Chapter 17
Acid rain—guooooooo!—A roar of agony thundered through the entire shelter. But to me, it sounded like a heavenly choir.
See? The grime washing away from every corner.
Just as Artemis said. All the disgusting organic matter crammed into the hydroponics facility, the massive nest's lump of flesh, and the prowling infected were melting away in an instant. It was more satisfying than scrubbing yellowed bathroom walls with bleach.
Kieeeek! Infected thrashing wildly in the cultivation facility. They flailed their arms like they were attacking imaginary foes, but it was pointless. Soon enough, their skeletons and guts were exposed as they collapsed right there. No—poured was more like it.
"Feels damn refreshing."
Steam rose like in a sauna from the reaction between the sprinkler solution and the organics. The surveillance cameras were high-end models that pierced the steam, so visibility wasn't an issue.
Affirmative. A most satisfactory view. I believe I now comprehend the human pleasure of imbibing a carbonated refreshment. For those creatures, only execution suffices.
Rose chimed in. For her, tasked with security management, wiping out the infected in one fell swoop must be pure delight. She seemed tougher than her calm first impression suggested.
Guooooreeeeng! Even in death throes, the giant nest kept screaming nonstop. If it was this loud inside, the outside must be deafening. Cameras showed hordes of infected milling about in panic across zones. They instinctively sensed their vital ecosystem component was in peril. Fat lot of good it did them.
Operation nearly complete.
The contaminated tissues on walls and floors, along with the infected, had all melted away. Only the nest's heart remained—and even that was half-dissolved, exposing innards and vessels like organs. No blood or fluids flowed; they melted and stuck the moment they emerged. Endless hemostasis, I suppose? The meaty arterial clumps inside lost strength and spilled outward. No more holding form.
Squelch. Squelch. Despite the relentless ultra-acidic purge from above, the massive arteries kept the floor pooling with blood gushing from cross-sections.
Kuoooaaaaagh! With a final death screech of rage, the giant nest met its complete end.
"There goes our biggest headache. No more explosions, and the infected will start hibernating one by one."
Hibernation was just talk—they still used some nutrients eventually, so they'd die off someday.
No need to wait that long. Let's use a more effective method.
Artemis switched to the ventilation control program. It circulated and purified shelter air, adjusting atmospheric conditions. It could boost worker productivity by raising oxygen levels or suppress riots by lowering them.
How about this?
With her words, tiny ventilation fan animations spun up in unison. Those propellers were just visuals; actual machinery handled the air. The key was the command dropping oxygen to the limit.
Warning. The entered value is the minimum for human life support. Administrator authorization required to lower further.
Ignore the threshold and proceed? You'll need to authorize it. Then the filthy creatures outside will suffocate and perish.
The prior command prompt reappeared: Approve or Cancel. Even in hibernation, they still breathed somewhat. Cut the air, and total annihilation.
An old scrapped news article flashed in my mind: 'They breathe too!' The government's last order back when it existed was unrestricted chemical warfare—and it worked well. Outside, you needed poison gas since air control was impossible, but the shelter was sealed. Air cutoff would be absolute.
"Then, appr—" I almost hit approve but stopped. One thing first.
"Artemis. Hold off on cutting the air. Something else to do first."
Survivors? Regrettably, none. Probability of shelter survivors remaining: less than 0.0000001%. I've confirmed every zone thoroughly.
She was probably right. She despised humans—or organics—but wasn't a butcher. She'd cross-verified far more than I could. Cameras, updated sensors, comm logs, vehicle records—everything detectable.
For her, investigation meant exhaustive audit.
"About lottery odds, huh."
Lotto was one in eight million, right?
"But that's human nature—betting on impossible odds."
I hit cancel.
"Just give me two days."
As you wish. Two days is nothing after our ordeals. Their activity's already suppressed—no breach risk.
Surprisingly, Artemis backed off.
"Rose."
Yes, Manager.
"Prep a recording. Broadcast shelter-wide for two days. Type: emergency crowd control."
Understood.
Ready to speak. Edit as needed post-recording.
I took a deep breath and leaned into the mic.
Soon after, the broadcast blared from every shelter speaker.
That suffice?
"Gotta try everything to avoid regrets later."
Sipping hot coffee in the duty chair, success still felt unreal.
"Finishing this will let me rest easy. Relief from fulfilling all duties?"
I checked the panel for the admin building front. Infected rioting at the barricade had thinned out, most swarming the hydroponics—sensing an intruder wrecking their nest. No clue about sprinklers, so they rushed to "repel" it.
Hydroponics' rich organics drew them there. But they tightened their own noose.
Powerful intake sucked away the nest's gases. No explosion risk—I was safe.
Ahead: repairs, normalization, reconstruction. Mostly Artemis's job; mine minimal.
Slurp. Coffee warmed me, but fatigue surged. Deferred exhaustion hitting all at once.
Gulp. Draining the last, I sank deep into the chair.
"It'll be fine. Right?"
Artemis replied, but I didn't hear. Consciousness sank into sleep's depths.