Pipe Dreams

It was a golden palace... Suits of armor wrought from pure gold hung upon life-sized marble sculptures. A scarlet carpet stretched all the way from the heights of the great hall down to the final marble step at its base, continuing along an elevated marble platform that rose high above the ground and stretched toward the distant horizon. Seen from above, the entire palace resembled a greatsword resting flat upon the earth. Its towering silhouette and magnificent presence perfectly embodied the Wilante people's distinctive aesthetic of monumentalism. Beneath the marble steps gathered a jubilant, cheering crowd. Lining both sides of the elevated platform, holding bouquets of fresh flowers, they seemed to be celebrating some grand occasion. A sudden breeze lifted flower petals from the people's hands, and the intoxicating fragrance momentarily blurred Kant's vision. *Who am I?* *Why am I standing here?* He looked down at his chest, which was covered in an entire wall of dazzling medals. Those countless honors felt familiar yet foreign, filling him with a touch of unease and dread. Right at that moment, hazy memories surged into his mind like a sweet spring, and in his disquiet, he suddenly remembered everything. He was a hero of the Wilante! The conqueror of Alpha Centauri! The butcher whose name terrified alien races! He had performed illustrious deeds expanding the frontiers of the Legion, and the Legion's 500th planet had been officially named after him! And the name the crowd chanted was none other than his own— "Kant!!" "Well done!!" "Long live the Legion! Long live the Marshal! Long live Kant!!" "By the Marshal above! He's looking at me!!" The deafening cheers echoing across the land straightened his spine. His steps grew confident as he walked forward, ascending the steps one by one until he reached the pinnacle of the grand hall. Just as he expected, the venerable Marshal sat upon the stone throne at the far end. That stern, majestic face was filled with paternal warmth. Kant's eyes welled with emotion. He knelt on one knee upon the stone stairs and bowed his head. Just then, the deep, dignified voice resonated from right above him. "...Kant, your loyalty and valor have won us the ultimate victory." "I hereby appoint you Legion Commander." "From this day forth, you shall serve as the Legion's hundredth Legion Commander." "...I trust you will not lose yourself in past glory and victory. Guard against pride and haste, continue to lead our people forward, and keep winning across this universe!" Surging with exhilaration, Kant raised his head with tears of gratitude and accepted the appointment. According to protocol, he was next to receive the Marshal's bestowals, after which he would return to the crowds draped in glory to accept their cheers and review. Yet right at that moment, an unfamiliar memory suddenly flooded into his mind. A jolt seized his chest, and compelled by an overwhelming impulse, he blurted out: "Respected Lord Marshal, I have a matter to report to you... Your soldiers are fiercely loyal to you, yet our logistics department harbors a nest of treasonous parasites. While we bled and fought the enemy, they stabbed us in the back and sucked our blood. I beseech you to thoroughly investigate this matter, punish those scoundrels, and bring justice to our soldiers." A sharp gleam flashed in the Marshal's eyes, piercing as an invincible spear. Yet what Kant felt from that glint was not chill, but the warmth of an afternoon sun. "They will be punished." The solemn promise struck like a heavy warhammer, shattering every foul scheme to dust. Kant had no doubt that the words were already reality. He could practically see those wretched fiends kneeling on the ground begging for mercy, and the corpses strewn across battlefields. A wave of profound relief swept through him, as if a great vengeance had been avenged. Having given thanks to the Marshal, he suddenly thought back to the people who had cheered for him, and so he spoke again. "Lord Marshal, we have campaigned across five hundred worlds, yet the vast majority of our people still live in poverty. Our victories were made possible only by their support. Perhaps we should distribute a share of the spoils to them." Having spoken, he pressed his forehead to the floor, anxiously awaiting the Marshal's response. He felt he was asking for too much. Moreover, taking a slice of the pie from vested interests was never an easy task. Yet the Marshal seemed to be in good spirits today—or perhaps Kant's concerns aligned with his own—for the commanding, unquestionable voice granted approval once more. "You speak truly. The spoils originally belonged to them, and henceforth they shall live prosperous lives." The moment the words fell, the cheering crowd outside the hall was suddenly adorned in silks and satins, their faces glowing with vitality. The golden furnishings inside the hall continued to gleam with radiant light, including the scarlet carpet... Their spoils had not diminished in the slightest from being shared with the people. Sitting upon the throne, the Marshal was like a deity whose every word became law, turning each utterance into reality. Like a living wish-granting machine. Kant was overwhelmed with emotion. Pressing his forehead to the stone floor once more, another thought struck him. "I have one more presumptuous request..." Showing no trace of impatience, the Marshal continued in a gentle tone. "Speak, my most loyal warrior." Kant swallowed hard and said in a hurried rush: "That battle was far from easy... Many brothers fell, and many more were left maimed. Though they can no longer offer their loyalty on the front lines, their lives should not end in ruin. I wish to request a habitable planet where they and their families may settle." The Marshal nodded and granted the request without hesitation. "Granted. We shall use the five-hundredth world you conquered for us to settle those brave children. Four hundred and ninety-nine star systems shall provide inexhaustible material wealth to that land... It will become a paradise on earth, the center of a prosperous universe." Kant's heart surged with excitement, but soon a new doubt surfaced in his mind. *Then what about the other four hundred and ninety-nine worlds?* *What will they become?* He knew that if he kept pushing, anyone would grow impatient... even the great and benevolent Marshal. Yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to voice the conflict in his heart. Because an intuitive voice told him that anything he desired could be realized in this world. This was a universe that existed for him— Yet just as he was about to speak, everything before his eyes blurred once more. Kant startled in panic and scrambled to his feet. *Wait—* *Give me one more minute!* The soft warmth enveloping his mind was steadily replaced by chilly air. He snapped his eyes open, only to find the golden hall gone, replaced by a familiar yet alien ceiling. "You're finally awake." A raspy voice came from the side. He turned his head and saw his superior, Daniel, seated beside him. Sitting up in bed, Kant looked around the room and then down at his chest, only to see that the uniform laden with medals had turned into a thin, plain undershirt. His brain felt like a waterlogged sponge. He pressed a hand to his sweat-drenched forehead and slapped it hard with his palm. "...Where is this?" Daniel lit a cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke as he gave a succinct reply. "The Marshal's Armory. The Wasp's nest." Sluggish memories flooded into his mind, and Kant finally remembered what had happened before his blackout. "Damn it... I inhaled the vaporized snake oil powder." Daniel let out a deep sigh. "You took in an overdose of hallucinogenic substance. I thought you weren't going to wake up." Kant asked immediately, "Where are the others?" Daniel replied, "Talan is next door to your room, knocked out cold just like you. As for the others, we sent them over to Katnode Prison, including the gang members and the smuggled Brahma Province laborers." Kant nodded, then abruptly remembered the medicine vials he had found in the warehouse. He whipped his head toward Daniel. "Right, I found some—" Before he could finish, a calloused hand clamped over his mouth. "Whatever you found, the fire burned it all to ash." Kant froze. "...Fire?" Pulling his hand back, Daniel plucked a cigarette from his pack and offered it to him. "With an explosion that big, it's only natural for a fire to start, isn't it?" Those nonchalant words drifted away like the smoke dispersing beneath the incandescent lamp. Kant's Adam's apple bobbed. He wanted to speak, but held back in the end. He understood the look in Daniel's eyes—it was both a warning and a reminder. Before powers of a higher magnitude, all their efforts and calculations were as fragile as ants. Those above could crush them with a casual flick of a finger. For some reason, Kant suddenly thought of the surreal dream from moments ago, a bitter taste rising in his throat. Reality and dreams seemed entirely inverted. For a fleeting moment, he even felt an urge to retreat completely into that dream. *If only I never woke up...* "By the way, how are you feeling?" Hearing his superior's concerned inquiry, Kant looked up blankly. "Feeling about what?" "The snake oil. You inhaled quite a bit," Daniel said, tapping the ashes into an ashtray and fixing his gaze on Kant's eyes. "I hear that stuff induces hallucinations... Everyone who touches it eventually gets addicted. It starts with mental derangement and ends with babbling nonsense." Kant shook his head. "...I'm fine. Perhaps because it was my first time." "Good." Daniel clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. "I've heard that those with steadfast faith aren't affected by snake oil. I'd hate to lose a man just as our plan is getting started. Good to see you're alright." *Steadfast faith, huh...* Kant offered a feeble smile. In the past, he likely would have nodded without hesitation, but now he didn't even have the confidence to claim such a thing. "...Right, now that the military is involved, are we still continuing the investigation?" "Of course we are," Daniel said flatly. "We haven't found proof of Alliance involvement yet." Kant couldn't help but ask, "...What if there isn't any?" Daniel pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray, grinding it into a crumpled wad of paper. Just like the frustrated scowl knitting his brow. "Then we figure out a way to manufacture it." *** Meanwhile, on the official *Wasteland OL* website. Having no direct contact info for the top players, Talan had to cast a wide net by sending private messages one by one, chatting with whoever took the time to reply. "Big bro, save me, I can't log in! QAQ" Fang Chang: "What happened to you? (Sweat)" Talan Raider: "I think I inhaled some hallucinogen and got booted right out of the server. (Cry)" Fang Chang: "Ummm... Generally speaking, exceeding the pain threshold causes a disconnection from the server. Hallucinations probably count as a trigger condition as well. I remember back in the early versions, someone disconnected after accidentally eating poisonous mushrooms. Once the toxicity wore off, they were fine." Fang Chang figured that, in all likelihood, the game simply hadn't implemented a "hallucination" experience and used unconsciousness as a substitute. Of course, it was also possible they had built it, but stripped it out to save computing power. Hearing Fang Chang's explanation, Talan felt much better. "I see. I thought I was a goner." Fang Chang: "Hardly. You're level 30-something by now, right? Normally speaking, even for an Intelligence-type player, your Constitution stat is more than three times that of an average person. Just sleep it off and you'll be fine." A question like this was hardly high-tech. Having replied, Fang Chang said nothing more. Taking Fang Chang's advice, Talan lay in bed intending to sleep, but having grown accustomed to falling asleep through the gaming helmet, he tossed and turned without success. In the end, he simply strapped the helmet over his head. After staring blankly into the pitch-black void for three or four hours, a sliver of light finally met his eyes. Delighted, Talan immediately opened his eyes and indeed found himself back in the world of *Wasteland OL*. "You're awake?" Sitting up in bed, Talan looked over and saw his partner Kant sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette. "What happened?" Kant's expression was grim. He remained silent for a long while before speaking slowly. "A mishap occurred. All the evidence we managed to gather went up in smoke." "Burned up?!" Talan's eyes went wide. "What the hell happened?! I don't remember any fire starting!" Kant's expression turned increasingly complicated. His lips remained tightly sealed, silent for a long time. Talan took a deep breath, sorting through the thoughts in his head. A sudden notion struck him, and he asked: "...Speaking of which, what did you see?" Kant didn't hide it, answering concisely. "Victory." Talan: "Victory?" "Having conquered five hundred star systems, we finally ushered in a golden age for the Wilante. The Lord Marshal led us in establishing a true utopia..." Kant seemed reluctant to dwell on the dream, brushing it off with a couple of evasive remarks. Even so, Talan grasped the general idea and was left dumbfounded. *Holy crap.* *Five hundred star systems to beat the game?!* *These big-nosed bastards sure play on hard mode!* *** With the evidence destroyed, the investigation ground to a halt. Fortunately, the witnesses were still alive, and Talan decided to use them as a breakthrough. According to Kant, the garrison forces that arrived on the scene afterward rounded up everyone found at the blast site, transported them to Katnode Prison, and charged them as arson suspects. With the assistance of their "guide," Daniel, Talan accompanied Kant back to Katnode Prison. The smuggled Brahma Province laborers were locked in ten-man holding cells, while the gang members from the Hyenas and the Iron Hands were treated to private cells. Passing by one of the communal barracks, a Brahma laborer pressed his face against the iron bars, pleading tearfully with Talan as he walked down the corridor. "Milord, we're just day laborers! We don't know anything... Please, have mercy and let us go!" "That's right... Those thugs forced us to do it!" "We were swindled! We really didn't know we were making... making that kind of stuff!" "*Sob sob sob*... I want to go home!" Looking at those unsightly faces, Kant felt an instinctive revulsion. All humans lied; he was no exception. Yet not a single word out of these fellows' mouths was genuine. They were like born swindlers—every sentence a lie, either being unreasonable or twisting facts, deceiving not just others, but themselves. However, that was merely his own view. The "Alliance spy" standing beside him clearly took a different stance. That guy didn't even realize how many slips he had shown through the subtle details of his words and conduct. "...Don't panic, everyone. I believe that as long as you cooperate with us, the garrison will see justice done for you." Seeing someone respond to their prayers, the Brahma men behind the bars wept with gratitude. One burly fellow with thick eyebrows and large eyes thumped his chest, acting as though he was ready to fight the criminal underworld to the very end. "Rest assured, milord! Whatever you ask, we'll answer! We wouldn't dare hide a thing!" "That's the spirit." Talan nodded with a smile, pulled out a small notepad, and asked, "Where are you all from? Which state in Brahma Province?" The men scrambled to answer. "I'm from Snake State!" "Me too!" "I'm from Wolf State..." Talan listened carefully: Snake State was the most common, followed by Wolf State, and only then Lion State and Dog State. The latter two were occupied territories of the Southern Legion, while Snake State and Wolf State were domain of the State of Brahma. "Who referred you here?" Hearing this, the men looked at each other in hesitation. Finally, the burly fellow with thick eyebrows bit the bullet and spoke up. "Milord, I don't know about the brothers from other states, but Snake State... that was all Commissioner Shahrukh's idea. Every household had to provide an able-bodied man, either to head to the front line or go out to make money... Wherever he told us to go, we had to go. We had no choice!" "Yeah!" "That's truly how it is in Snake State!" "We'll take that as the working assumption for now." Talan jotted down a couple of notes in his pad, then looked at the others. "What about you guys from Wolf State?" He did a quick round of questioning. According to the laborers, more than half had been dispatched by local warlords to earn extra income. Typically, the warlords paid them an allowance in Brahma currency, while the dinars they earned abroad went straight to the warlords. This scheme looked rather familiar to Talan—most likely copied from Laxi. Mammoth State had been the very first in all of Brahma Province to launch labor exports; it made sense for the other states to follow suit. As for whether it was truly forced, every single one claimed coercion, which for now had to be taken with a grain of salt. Having probed every suspicious detail, Talan had a sudden thought and looked at them again. "By the way... after inhaling the snake oil, what did you see in your dreams?" The men blinked in surprise, offering a colorful array of answers. "I saw lots and lots of houses—the kind that don't leak in the rain!" "There was a really fast ox cart, and I drove it to make lots and lots of money!" "I saw Mr. Zayed! He pinned a medal on me and said he'd make me a grand general!" "Ahem... Heh heh, I saw big, pale... schoolgirls." Listening to these diverse testimonies, Talan didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but he extracted the key words and jotted them into his notepad. Houses, money, power, women... They seemed to see many things, but what they remembered came down to the same basic desires. It appeared everyone saw something different after inhaling snake oil. As for its addictive nature... That was plain as day. From the greedy glint in their eyes whenever they spoke of that sweet dream, it was easy to see how desperately they craved another hit to return to that bizarre, tender paradise. Talan was now certain that Ah Guang had indeed created the "hallucination" mechanics, but perhaps to prevent the illusions from feeling too real and causing an effect akin to snake oil, they hadn't implemented it in the live build. Of course, that was merely his half-baked guess as an ordinary player. Maybe Ah Guang was simply being lazy. Glancing at Kant, who was smoking an untold number of cigarettes, Talan shook the little notebook in his hand. "...The testimony mentions the warlords of Brahma Province. Is that enough to prove the Alliance's involvement?" "A bit too tenuous," Kant replied curtly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "We need stronger evidence." He couldn't very well come right out and say that such things didn't matter at all—that he was just waiting for Talan to slip up. Moreover, he had begun to doubt whether what he was doing was truly right. And if it wasn't, what had he marched onto the battlefield for in the first place...? *I really want to see the Lord Marshal again.* He suddenly realized that rather than making wishes to that great man, he wanted nothing more than to talk through the confusion in his heart... Seeing Kant's taciturn demeanor, Talan shrugged helplessly. *These big-nosed bastards are hard to please.* *Since this is about slinging mud rather than solving a real case, shouldn't a few flimsy leads and some creative spin be plenty?* "...Then we have no choice but to keep digging. I have a hunch we're getting closer to the big fish." "Yeah. Keep digging, then." Kant waved the index finger holding his cigarette dismissively, ending the conversation. The two continued down the corridor, accompanied by the warden, reaching the depths of the prison blocks to find Morse kept in solitary confinement. The man exuded a sinister chill, sitting in the corner with a nonchalant smirk. Seeing Talan and Kant appear at the door, a pleased smile finally spread across his face. Just as he had anticipated, his capabilities had won the recognition of the Enlightenment Society. His reckless gamble earlier hadn't been in vain... "Did I pass your test?" Grinning, Morse asked a question whose answer he already knew. Kant sneered inwardly, mocking this little ant who understood nothing. Yet he soon realized that he too was merely an ant in a different cage, and the way the true big shots looked at him was no different from how he looked at Morse right now. The sneer in his heart wavered. Talan, on the other hand, was completely immersed in his role, fully embodying an Enlightenment Society Disciple. Looking at Morse's faintly expectant face, he smiled and nodded. "Congratulations, Mr. Morse. You've proven your worth. From now on, you are officially one of us, with the status of a Disciple." Regarding Morse's recruitment into the Enlightenment Society, Talan had already consulted their "guide," Daniel. Though somewhat hesitant, Daniel had ultimately nodded in agreement under Talan's persuasion. Morse let out a sigh of relief. When he first entered the prison, he had felt a lingering anxiety, but now all of it had vanished into thin air. He didn't know what being a Disciple entailed, but he knew he now had powerful backing. "Right, what about my boys...?" Talan looked toward Kant, who cleared his throat softly and spoke in a strictly official tone. "The garrison will drop all charges and indictments against them. It was merely an abandoned factory building, and the dead were just a few wanted fugitives. You didn't cause any loss to this settlement." A radiant smile broke across Morse's face. Walking out of Katnode Prison completely unscathed—and taking his crew with him, no less. Without question, starting tomorrow, his name would become a legend throughout Blackwater Lane! "Thank you..." "Don't mention it. We still need you to work for us... Due to a fire, the evidence we uncovered unfortunately went up in smoke. Fortunately, the living witnesses are right here in prison. We plan to go straight to that Tony and end this guessing game once and for all." Morse rolled his neck, his vertebrae popping with a crisp crunch, his grin growing cruel. "Suits me just fine. I've wanted to pay him a visit for a long damn time." Admiring the man's ruthless edge, Talan nodded approvingly. "Very good... By the way, while you were unconscious earlier, what did you dream about?" *Dream about?* Morse paused slightly, a flicker of confusion surfacing in his murky eyes. Seeing his silence, Talan smiled and prompted him: "Generally speaking, we see what we desire most. For example, what Mr. Kant and I saw... er, a golden age belonging to those of noble blood." He had originally intended to say a golden age belonging to the Wilante, but realized it might sound strange coming from an outsider's mouth, so he cleverly framed it in an all-encompassing way. After all, no Wilante would ever deny the nobility of their own blood, saving him the trouble of further explanation. Sure enough, Kant didn't object. Hearing Talan's hint, the murky fog in Morse's pupils finally cleared into a sharp, gritty focus. His Adam's apple twitched as he squeezed an uncanny grin onto his face. "Becoming a legend in Blackwater Lane, of course... I've dreamed of standing on everyone's heads." Kant let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "What a transparent fellow." "Nothing wrong with that. Simple people are easier to satisfy, and becoming a legend in Blackwater Lane is a hell of a lot easier than conquering five hundred planets." Talan smiled and rested a hand on his partner's shoulder, then looked at Morse and said, "Listen up: as long as you do as you're told, we'll make your dream come true." As he spoke, he tossed a ring of keys into Morse's hands. "Now, go let your buddies out. Make sure you don't release the wrong people." Morse gave a respectful, slight bow. "Understood."