Chapter 135: The Evans Calendar

Robert looked at the confession, picked up the ring-shaped pen, and after a long silence, a cold sneer appeared on his face.

The next moment, he grabbed the confession and tore it to shreds with a rapid, rhythmic sound.

Outside the room, there was still no sound to be heard.

However, the air conditioning switch in the confinement cell was turned on. As the sound of the wind began to play, the paper scraps on the floor were blown by the airflow emerging from the vents at ankle level, out through the gaps in the room.

Then, the noise inside the room resumed.

...

In his past life, because his jurisdiction did not include the "Spain Base" and he mainly operated in East Asia, Robert only knew of its existence. Like other high-ranking American officers and government officials, he tacitly accepted that the "Spain Base" existed.

After all—America always needs a dark side.

But when Robert himself fell into this dark side, he felt for the first time how cruel the "law beyond the law" could be, and he loathed himself for having held power in the past yet failing to ban such facilities in time.

However, even though Robert was subjected to endless torment by noise and light in the following days, with no single sleep session exceeding half an hour, and his mental and physical state nearing collapse, he persisted. He never chose to sign his name on that paper.

Even in such circumstances, despite being a man in his sixties, Robert still harbored hope, his fighting spirit growing ever stronger.

By now, he could figure out why Manken—or rather, the bureaucrats represented by Manken, along with the guys at the Pentagon—wanted to get rid of him.

—When America's East Asian strategy failed completely, it lost its greatest overseas affiliate power. Consequently, officers led by Robert appeared out of place within the United States.

Especially with the total destruction of the entire base in Japan, the American establishment needed someone of significant weight to shoulder the responsibility for this failure.

—Looking up and down the ranks, only someone like Robert—who lacked political family backing, whose father was merely an army captain, and who had risen solely through military merit and seniority—was suitable to be the scapegoat.

Furthermore, with the failure of the East Asian strategy and the rise of the superhuman Mio Ito, the citizens of the United States were likely experiencing panic and disillusionment under the influence of this superhuman.

Therefore, in order for the citizens of the United States to regain their confidence as the world's leading power, shifting the blame onto Robert and framing him as the primary factor in America's retreat—recasting "factual defeat" as "collusion with the corrupted"—was the only way to maintain the faith of the American public.

—Robert was crystal clear about all of this.

"Restoring" the confidence of the American public was indeed something he wanted to do, too.

However, he would never allow that confidence to be bought at the cost of his own life.

He still had people he wanted to see; he wanted to see his wife, his children, and the small house in the Kalorama district of Washington, filled with vibrant green plants...

So, he chose to fight to the end.

The time that followed was a test of strength between Robert and his captors.

Noise, glaring light, noise, glaring light...

Three meals a day, the trays polished to a mirror-like shine...

The food consisted of vitamin supplements, energy drinks, and nutritional shakes, ensuring his health...

Noise, glaring light, noise, glaring light...

Sleep was like a city that never sleeps, surrounded by noise and light. Even so, there were occasional gaps that allowed Robert a moment of relief—the noise would stop, the light would dim, and there would be a brief respite.

—But that was by no means an act of mercy from the other side. On the contrary, it was an invisible attack method designed to prevent Robert from dying of sudden cardiac arrest, while ensuring that after the brief rest, his nerves would become weak and his willpower fragile.

Yet, Robert would never let his guard down.

No matter how many times that "confession" was sent in, his choice remained the same: to tear it up.

And those guys at the Pentagon, seemingly wary of Robert's age and status, only dared to use noise and light as weapons, not daring to resort to truth serum or electric shocks.

However... he had to admit, Robert could feel that he was getting closer and closer to his limit.

The moment he opened his eyes, it was a world of pure, blinding white light.

Closing his eyes, he often felt an inexplicable sense of suffocation while sleeping.

His brain felt as if it were hollowed out, his consciousness becoming increasingly murky.

And—most crucially—Robert discovered with sorrow that even if he never confessed, he probably wouldn't be able to escape his current predicament.

So much time had passed, yet the other side hadn't shown a shred of hesitation, and no one from the "outside" had appeared at the "Spain Base"—this could only mean one thing: that "he" in the outside world had likely already been "convicted."

As for how they would do it, he could think of a dozen ways: "trial in absentia," "AI deepfakes," "body doubles"... what wouldn't those people do?

Day after day, Robert's spirit grew closer to despair.

Finally, one day, Robert's body reached its limit.

No matter how strong one's will, once pushed to the limit, collapse is inevitable.

So, one night, unable to endure the stimulation of the light and noise any longer, Robert completely blacked out.

It wasn't simple sleep, but a state of emptiness, as if his brain had lost consciousness after being mentally ravaged.

When that void ended and Robert reopened his eyes, he was stunned to see only flickering dim light in the cell, the noise had stopped, and more importantly, the door to the confinement cell was wide open.

"This is..."

As if reborn after an illness, Robert climbed up from the floor with numb hands and feet, stumbling as he walked toward the exit of the cell.

Outside was a nearly pitch-black corridor, with only the green light of the "Emergency Exit" glowing; the fully sealed corridor was filled with a tranquil atmosphere.

Robert moved forward step by step, almost leaning against the wall. He took deep breaths of fresh air, feeling as though his lungs were expanding boundlessly, full of a renewed sense of vitality.

His mind felt clearer than it had in all this time, and the pressure in his lungs while breathing had vanished.

Robert found it hard to imagine—how long had he been asleep? Why did he wake up to such a situation? Where were the captors? The guys at the Pentagon? Why did they open the door? Was this another one of their tricks?

Various doubts swirled in his mind, but Robert knew that at this moment, he could only move forward.

He slowly made his way to the end of the corridor, where there was a staircase leading upward.

Climbing the stairs, one step, two steps—having not walked upstairs for so long, Robert felt his body was like a rusted toy, but as his knees creaked and moved, he could feel the rusted gears slowly being lubricated with oil once more.

"Huff..."

Panting, Robert estimated he had climbed dozens of stairs when he finally reached the top, where a closed door stood.

He turned the handle; it opened.

"OK."

He thought to himself.

And then—one, two, three.

The door opened.

Light poured into Robert's eyes.

But it was not the monotonous white light of the confinement cell.

It was sunlight, shining in from behind a glass door outdoors.

For a moment, Robert was so moved that tears welled up in his eyes.

Yet the next second, while the tears were still in his eyes, an unimaginable spectacle was reflected on his retinas.

It was a sight he could never forget.

He never expected that when he finally regained his freedom, the first thing he would see would be this...

It was like a scene from science fiction.

—There, in the hall drenched in sunlight, were individuals stripped of their clothes...

That...

Should be called...

—Androids?!!

They were entirely constructed of silver-white metal, with obvious modular components nested within their bodies, and the parts above the neck—the head—were emitting a faint fluorescent glow.

They sat in the center of the hall, their external brain interfaces connected to electronic equipment in the room via data cables, seemingly in the process of transmitting data.

Beyond that, some androids were gliding rapidly through the hall, having replaced the parts below their ankles with some kind of pulley structure; they were transporting paper materials and other equipment.

The moment Robert opened the door, several androids glided to his front. Their wrists split open, revealing dark, hollow gun barrels; it was clearly no joke.

Robert was so frightened that he froze.

The androids stared at him, their eyes emitting a soft light that enveloped his entire body, scanning him from head to toe. At the same time, a mechanical voice rang out:

"...Identity confirmed: Robert Heinleis... Former Four-Star General of the United States... Separated from the old government system... Non-hostile member... No threat detected..."

"...Eligible for 'Standard Citizen' certification."

Following the final sentence, Robert's vision blurred. At the same time, the other androids seemed to lose interest in him and scattered, seemingly returning to their tasks.

Though filled with shock, Robert still retained a shred of sanity. He thought for a moment and called out:

"...Please wait—"

The android that had mentioned the "'Standard Citizen' certification" turned around and looked at Robert with its dark, hollow eye sockets.

"Hello, Citizen Robert. Do you have any requests?"

"I'd like to ask... what is the date now?"

"If calculated by the historical Anno Domini calendar, it is April 12, 2027..."

Robert felt a slight sense of relief. This date was less than a month after he had entered the "Spain Base." It seemed he hadn't experienced a scenario where he slept for a decade or several decades, only to find the world completely changed upon waking.

But just as he caught his breath, the next sentence from the android's mouth made his nerves tense up again:

"...If calculated by the Evans Era, today is April 12, the first year of the Evans Era, the third day since the promotion of the Evans calendar."

"...The Evans calendar?"

Robert was stunned, his voice turning hoarse from the sheer shock.

"Yes, Evans."

Above the android's head, a holographic image suddenly flashed, showing a man with an expressionless face looking away from the screen.

The man looked Latino, but his skin wasn't as dark as a typical Latino's, and his eyes were deeply sunken, possessing a piercing quality as if he were constantly staring through the person watching him.

As Robert looked at this man, lost in confusion, the android's voice added fuel to his inner turmoil.

For the first time, its tone carried a hint of fanaticism as it spoke rapidly:

"Navarri Evans—the Emperor of Machines, First Citizen, the sole President for Life of the United States... and also, our Master."