I Have A Super USB Drive Chapter 92: Contact Again

Chapter 92: Contact Again

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Deep into the night, in the wealthy coastal area of Cape Town, a private manor that was as luxurious as a royal palace was shrouded in a strange silence.

It was as heavily guarded as a palace. One could hardly take one step without running into a sentry or a guard. Dozens of bodyguards dressed in black patrolled tirelessly within the grounds, alert to even the tiniest movement of a blade of gra.s.s.

In the heart of the private estate, in a bedroom of highest security, a skinny, haggard-looking man lay asleep. There was nothing left of his former glory.

It was Dlamini, who had lost a lot of weight.

If he was once called a lion, then after the kidnapping incident, he had become a cruel, paranoid jackal.

In the past three months, Dlamini’s temperament had changed drastically from a calm, strategizing man to someone who beat and scolded his underlings at every turn. Some of his cronies, due to certain minor mistakes, were even tied up in burlap sacks and drowned in the sea.

He was visibly much thinner. His once st.u.r.dy frame had gradually shrunk. Add this to his frost-white complexion, and anyone would believe that he was seventy years old, let alone fifty.

Everyone found that Dlamini had changed. Now, he was afraid of the cold and of light, plagued by a perpetual sense of insecurity. He dared not even go out the door. He just locked himself in his manor all day long, dealing with his own affairs.

Currently, Dlamini was sleeping on the wide oak bed. The room was scented with soothing agarwood but his furrowed brows indicated that he was not sleeping well at the moment.

“Beep, notification of task!”

Suddenly, a cold, mechanical female voice barged into Dlamini’s mind. In an instant, his eyes flew open, filled with endless bloodshot veins.

“You again!”

Dlamini’s pupils contracted as he grumbled in a low voice.

By now, he was no longer in the same pathetic state he was in the first time he heard this voice. After all, he was a formidable character who had held life and death in his hands. Three months was enough for him to prepare for this.

He drew in a deep breath and immediately barked coldly. “Speak!”

“No. Gamma20220001, you’ve received a task from Sigma05. Please turn on your computer within half an hour to check it.”

“Turn on the computer?”

Dlamini was silent for a moment. He did not turn on the lights but moved to his desk in the dark and turned on his laptop. “Then?”

“Beep?”

However, before Dlamini could finish his question, the screen of the laptop he had just turned on suddenly went black. The original interface of the laptop transformed into a black and red pattern.

Dlamini squinted and groped around the side of his desk. At last, he took out a pair of reading gla.s.ses and put them on.

Only then could he see the image on the laptop.

It was a black and red circular pattern, otherwise known as a logo.

In the logo, two hands were about to touch, set against a blood-red backdrop.

The two hands reached in from both sides of the logo. The one on the left was lower down, while the right one extended an index figure. It was as if the two fingers were about to touch.

The structure and position of this pattern reminded Dlamini of a fresco painting in the Sistine Chapel of Vatican City.

It was a mural called Genesis.

The hand on the left represented the human, Adam while the right hand represented G.o.d, Jehovah.

Nevertheless, unlike the mural, the hand representing G.o.d in the logo was not a human hand but a fully mechanical structure.

When Dlamini saw this, he suddenly realized that this logo was the symbol of that mysterious organization.

“Mr. Dlamini.”

Just as Dlamini felt overcome with awe, a human voice rang out from the computer.

“Who’s there?”

Dlamini shuddered and his body tensed up instinctively, but he relaxed again in the next moment. He simply asked in a disbelieving voice, “Who are you? How did you hack into my computer?”

“We’ve met before, Mr. Dlamini.”

This was what the husky, youthful voice said.

When Dlamini heard this, his pupils shrank. He instantly recalled that gloomy, b.l.o.o.d.y living room, that cheap, trashy hotel...

It was a nightmare he did not wish to revisit.

“Don’t panic, Mr. Dlamini. Let me introduce myself properly.”

However, today seemed different. This voice did not seem to be mocking him, only solemnly proclaiming, “I belong to the ‘G.o.d’s Forbidden Zone’ organization and I’m one of the members of the Disciple Council. My number is 05 and you can call me —

“Judas.”

Judas?

Dlamini inhaled sharply. The information in this greeting was explosively momentous. G.o.d’s Forbidden Zone, the Disciple Council, code number, and Judas...

What sort of organization had he been dragged into?

“Mr. Dlamini, your current status in the organization is due to a recruitment process I’ve developed. Initially, you belonged to the lowest Delta-level but because you’ve completed the A-level task given by the organization three months ago, we made an exception and promoted you to Gamma-level.”

The voice slowly said, “I apologize. As your mentor, I haven’t done the best job. I didn’t teach you what to do at the beginning, so I’m determined to give you compensation.”

After a pause, the voice added. “Of course, you can also choose to refuse.”

Recruitment process? Compensation?

Dlamini’s throat felt dry. He wanted to burst out yelling at this voice, but his rationality stopped him in time. He could only swallow his frustration and asked hoa.r.s.ely, “Before that, can I learn more about this organization you speak of?”

“Of course.”

The voice paused and then said, “Our G.o.d’s Forbidden Zone is a group of people who are brought together by their commitment to pursue longevity and even immortality. Our members come from all over the Federation. Whether in the West or the East or right where you are, we’ve made our mark.”

As the voice spoke, Dlamini noticed the image on the computer had changed and a doc.u.ment appeared. “I’ve sent you our organization’s handbook. But please, don’t try to print it or record it in any other way. Otherwise, you know what will happen.”

The voice contained no trace of a threat but when Dlamini heard this, he trembled all over. Subconsciously, he touched the back of his neck and his face turned pale.

The doc.u.ment mentioned by the voice was a lengthy agreement. It included the important notes of G.o.d’s Forbidden Zone as well as an explanation of the G.o.d chip.

Only then did Dlamini understood for the first time what the h*ll was in that wound behind his neck...

“The G.o.d chip is a kind of biological brain that a.s.sists human beings in work and life. You could say that it’s a sort of technological revolution, an intelligent auxiliary system for the new generation of humans. You can use it to record everything you see and ask it to transmit the video over the network whenever you need it.

“At the same time, it can connect to the Internet anytime and anywhere, looking up information for you or guide you when you encounter a problem.

“When you’re in danger, it can even call the police automatically or take over your body to help you escape or kill your opponent.

“One by one, these functions will become accessible to you as your level in the organization increases...

“This is the G.o.d chip.”

The voice said serenely, “Surely now you understand. The fact that we chose you isn’t a misfortune. It just might be your opportunity for true glory.”

Finally, the voice said in a hushed tone, “Mr. Dlamini, do you want to become the next Mandela?”

Dlamini’s pupils flared fiercely.