THE PRICE OF VICTORY

The guard didn't answer. He just pointed to the next door, and Iris knew she had no choice.

"Corvus," she said, turning to him. "I'll find a way to contact you. Be ready. Don't do anything stupid."

He looked at her, steely resolve in his eyes, but she saw fear-for her, for the squad, for everything they'd lost.

"Be careful, Doctor," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "You're our only hope."

She entered the room, and the door slammed shut behind her with a dull metallic thud echoing in her ears like a cage closing. She turned the handle-it was locked. She went to the window and tried to open it-it was secured. She ran her hand over the wall, looking for any crack, any gap, any way out, but the walls were perfectly smooth, like everything in this world.

She sat on the cot, strength leaving her, cold sweat on her forehead, breath ragged. She was trapped. She'd entered 'Eden,' but instead of answers, she was in quarantine, isolated from her squad, from Elias, from everything she knew.

She clenched her fists and looked out the window at the perfect pond, where golden fish swam in circles, never stopping, never straying. They were trapped too. They were puppets too.

"I'll get out," she whispered into the silence. "I'll find a way. I won't let them win."

But inside her, a cold feeling grew, telling her this was only the beginning. That something far worse than quarantine awaited.

She closed her eyes and began to wait.

The door opened exactly twenty-four hours later. Iris heard the lock click, and when she looked up, a woman in a white coat stood on the threshold-not a hybrid guard, but an ordinary person, with lively eyes and a slight smile. She was young, around thirty, with neat part in chestnut hair and delicate features, perfect, almost ideal, but not mechanical. A tablet was in her hands, held as if part of her body.

"Doctor Iris," she said, her voice warm, almost friendly. "Welcome to Eden. My name is Elian. I'll be your curator during adaptation. Please follow me."

Iris stood, stiff muscles protesting. She ran a hand over her face, wiping sleep, and looked at the woman. Elian-she noted the name. She had to remember everything, every face, every name, every detail that could be useful.

"And my squad?" she asked, trying to sound steady. "My people. Where are they?"

"Your companions are undergoing the same adaptation," Elian replied, her smile widening slightly. "They are perfectly safe. We have no reason to harm them. Eden is a place of peace and harmony."

Iris wanted to argue, to say she didn't believe a word, but she knew it was useless. She had to play by their rules until she found a way to act. She nodded and stepped out of the room, following Elian.

The corridor was as perfectly clean as everything else in this world. White walls without a single crack, floor gleaming, reflecting the light of built-in lamps burning with steady, warm light, casting no shadows. Iris walked, each step on the smooth floor echoing, thinking how there was no dust, no dirt, no traces of life. A place existing outside time.

They exited through a glass door that opened automatically, and Iris was again on the street. But now the city revealed itself in all its glory. The sun was high, its rays penetrating the dome, creating soft, diffused light, making everything almost fairytale-like. Wide streets paved with white stone, trees on both sides-neat, trimmed, emerald crowns not stirring, because there was no wind. The air was still, warm, smelling of roses and something sweet, like honey.

Iris looked around, her eyes unable to adjust to what she saw. People. They were everywhere. Walking, sitting on benches, talking, reading in small gardens near every house. Smiling. All of them smiling. But their smiles were strange-too even, too identical, as if their faces were fixed in one expression. They looked at her as she passed, their gazes polite but empty.

She stopped by a small fountain, spraying a perfect stream, and looked at a woman sitting on a nearby bench, holding a book. The woman looked up, and their eyes met. For a moment, Iris thought she saw something human flicker in her gaze-a spark hidden deep within. But then the woman smiled the same perfect smile, and the spark died.

"Hello," the woman said, her voice soft as a child's. "Welcome to Eden."

"Hello," Iris replied, trying to speak as softly. "Are you happy here?"

The woman looked at her, her smile widening, but her eyes remained lightless.

"Of course," she said. "We're all happy. No hunger, no war, no pain. Everyone has purpose, work, a place in society. We need each other. We matter."

"But do you have a choice?" Iris asked, a cold wave rising inside her. "Can you choose what to do, who to be with, where to live?"

The woman paused, and Iris saw a faint shadow in her eyes-something like memory or doubt. But then it vanished, and she smiled again, even brighter.

"Happiness is the absence of choice," she said, her voice flat, as if reciting a learned phrase. "When you have no choice, you can't make mistakes. You just do what you must, and it brings satisfaction. We all do what we must, and we're all happy."

Iris looked at her, horror rising within her. She saw before her not a person, but a puppet unaware it's a puppet. A woman who'd lost herself, become part of the system, unable and unwilling to think otherwise.

"And if you had a choice," Iris asked softly, "would you change anything?"

The woman looked at her, and for a moment her smile faltered. Something like fear flickered in her eyes, but she quickly composed herself.

"We should go," Elian said, approaching Iris and gently touching her shoulder. "Lena is waiting. You shouldn't keep her waiting."

Iris turned and followed her, but she couldn't forget the woman's words. "Happiness is the absence of choice." She repeated them over and over, and they sounded like a verdict, a prophecy. Lena's philosophy. 'Eden's' philosophy.

She walked down perfect streets, and with every step, she saw more people smiling, talking, living in this perfect world. But their eyes were empty, their movements mechanical, and she knew behind every smile was emptiness. A paradise, but a paradise with no room for the soul.

She passed a school where children played perfect games, no shouting, no fighting. A market where sellers offered perfect fruits and vegetables, but no one haggled, argued. A park where young couples sat on benches holding hands, but their hands didn't clasp in passionate embraces-they just lay there, as if part of a ritual.

She saw clones-those she could identify by pale skin and too-perfect features-working in fields behind the houses. They moved with the same mechanical precision as the hybrid guards, faces blank, eyes staring into nothing. They didn't talk to each other, smile, or complain. They just worked, like machines.

Iris felt anger mingled with despair rising inside her. She saw 'Eden' wasn't a sanctuary, but a factory producing slaves who didn't know they were slaves. She saw Lena had created a system that robbed people of their will, their freedom, their humanity. And she knew she had to stop it. She had to find 'Protocol 7.' She had to destroy this world built on lies.

"We're almost there," Elian said, interrupting her thoughts. "You'll be placed in a guest room in the main building. Lena will receive you tomorrow morning. She wants to speak with you personally."

"Tomorrow?" Iris asked, disappointment gripping her chest. "I thought she wanted to see me immediately."

"Lena is a very busy woman," Elian replied, her smile becoming more strained. "She runs an entire city. But she's made time for you. Tomorrow at nine in the morning. She'll be waiting in her quarters."

Iris nodded, though inside she churned with impatience and anxiety. She wanted to meet Lena now, immediately, to ask all the questions that had piled up. But she knew she had to wait. Play by their rules until she understood how this system worked.

They approached a huge white building rising in the city center. It looked like a temple or palace, with tall columns and large windows reflecting the sky. Beautiful, majestic, but lifeless-like a tomb, and Iris felt a chill as she climbed the marble steps.

Elian led her inside, through a hall decorated with living flowers and fountains, and stopped at a massive wooden door covered in carvings. She opened it, and Iris saw a room as perfect as everything else-spacious, bright, with a large window overlooking a garden.

"Your room," Elian said, gesturing her in. "Rest and prepare for your meeting with Lena. I'll send for you tomorrow morning."

Iris stepped inside, and the door closed behind her. She was alone in a room like the one in quarantine-sterile, empty, lifeless. She walked to the window and looked at the garden, where perfect trees grew in perfect order, flowers bloomed at a perfect time, everything subject to control.

She clenched her fists and promised herself: she would escape. She would find a way. She would stop Lena. She would free these people, even if they didn't know they were in prison.

"I'll do it," she whispered into the silence. "I'll do it for my mother. For Cain. For Gora. For all who died."

She stood at the window, looking at the perfect garden, and the woman's words echoed in her head: "Happiness is the absence of choice." She repeated them again and again, and they sounded like a verdict, a prophecy.

Iris stood at the window of the guest room, but instead of resting, she watched the garden and waited. Waited for someone to come, for something to happen, for her chance to act. Silence pressed on her, and every minute of inaction stretched into eternity. She couldn't sit still. She couldn't wait for Lena to deign to receive her. She had to learn more. Understand how this world worked, to destroy it.

She walked to the door and tried the handle-it was locked. She walked to the window and tried to open it-it was secured. She ran her hand over the walls, searching for any crack, any gap, any way out, but the walls were perfectly smooth, like everything else. She was trapped. A perfect room, a perfect prison.

But then she heard a sound outside the door-soft, insistent, like the scrape of metal. She froze, listening. The sound repeated, and she realized someone was trying to open the door from outside. She stepped closer, and at that moment, the lock clicked, and the door opened a crack.

On the threshold stood Elian. Her face was pale, looking around as if afraid of being seen. In her hands was an old rusty key, looking alien in this perfect world.

"Doctor Iris," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We don't have much time. I need to show you something. But you must promise not to tell Lena."

Iris looked at her and saw something in her eyes she hadn't seen before-fear. Real, human fear. And at that moment, she understood: Elian wasn't part of the system. She was part of the resistance.

"I promise," Iris said, her voice firm. "Lead me."

Elian nodded and gestured for her to follow. They left the room, and Elian led her through a labyrinth of white rooms and staircases, seemingly endless. They passed patrols standing motionless like statues, not noticing them. Through a kitchen where robots prepared perfect food, through a warehouse storing perfect supplies. Finally, they exited through a back door, into the street, outside the main building.

"Hurry," Elian said, her voice trembling. "If we're seen, we'll die. Both of us."

They ran down a narrow path leading past residential blocks, towards the fields. Iris felt the wind on her face, dust on her skin, her heart beating faster with adrenaline. She ran after Elian until they stopped at the edge of a vast field stretching for kilometers.

Iris froze. She looked at the field, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

The field was huge, stretching to the horizon, covered in perfect rows of crops. Wheat, corn, vegetables-all growing in straight lines, as if planted by laser. Tall and green, without a single weed, without damage. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

Clones were working in the field. Hundreds, maybe thousands. They moved through the rows, harvesting, their movements mechanical, synchronized, like robots. Bending, picking vegetables, placing them in baskets at their belts, moving on. Not talking, smiling, complaining. Just working, like machines.

Iris stepped closer and saw their faces. Young, almost childish, with perfect features and pale skin. Their eyes were empty, like the hybrid guards', but there was something else-a shadow, an echo of what was once a soul. They were alive, but not living. Existing, but meaninglessly.

She approached one of them-a young man of about eighteen, with delicate features and light hair. Bending, picking, moving on. Not noticing her, not reacting. She reached out and touched his shoulder.

He froze. Slowly turned his head and looked at her. His eyes were empty, like a doll's, but for a moment, she thought a spark flickered-recognition or surprise. He looked at her, his lips parting, as if wanting to speak.

"Who are you?" she asked softly. "Do you remember yourself? Do you remember who you were?"

He looked at her, face still, but in his eyes she saw a struggle-between what he was and what he'd been made. His lips moved, and she heard a faint, nearly inaudible whisper:

"I... I was... human..."

But before he could say more, an overseer approached-a hybrid guard in a silver bodysuit, empty eyes, mechanical movements. He raised a hand and aimed a device at the young man, which emitted a short, sharp sound. The young man flinched, and the spark in his eyes died. His face went blank, and he turned to her, movements mechanical, like a puppet.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice flat, without inflection. "I must continue working. Please do not interfere."

He turned and walked on, bending, picking, placing in the basket. He didn't look at her again. He was a machine performing its function.

Iris stared at him, rage and despair rising within her. She saw 'Eden' wasn't paradise. It was a factory producing slaves who didn't know they were slaves. A machine grinding people up, turning them into cogs.

Elian stepped up to her and touched her shoulder.

"Now you understand," she said, her voice quiet, almost broken. "They're all like that. They don't remember themselves. Don't know who they were. Lena took their lives, their memories, their personalities. They just work until they die."

"But how?" Iris asked, her voice trembling with anger. "How does she do it? How does she make them forget?"

"It's 'Protocol 7,'" Elian said, her eyes widening with fear, as if uttering a forbidden word. "Or rather, Lena's version of it. She didn't destroy it, as your mother said. She repurposed it. Uses it to erase memories, reprogram people, make them obedient. She says it's for good. Gives people a chance to start a new life, free from pain. But really, she just turns them into slaves."

Iris looked at the field, where hundreds of clones worked in perfect order, and felt her heart breaking. She saw before her not just workers. People who'd lost themselves. People created to serve the system. People whose freedom, memory, soul had been stolen.

She remembered the woman at the fountain: "Happiness is the absence of choice." Now she understood what it meant. 'Eden' stole people's will and called it happiness. Lena had created a perfect world at the cost of human lives.

"I have to stop this," she said, her voice hard as steel. "I have to find 'Protocol 7.' I have to destroy this system."

"It's not that simple," Elian said, pain in her voice. "Lena is clever. She hid the 'Protocol' where no one can find it. Even I don't know where it is. But I know who does. Lena knows. She's the only one with access."

Iris looked at her, resolve appearing in her eyes. She had to meet Lena. Force her to talk. Find a way to stop this mad world.

"Then I'll talk to her," she said. "I'll make her tell me the truth."

"Be careful," Elian said, fear in her voice. "Lena is dangerous. She's not just a leader. She believes in what she does. Thinks she's saving the world. And she'll stop at nothing to protect her creation."

Iris nodded. She knew it would be dangerous. Lena might try to kill her or use her. But she had no choice. She had to take the risk. For her mother, for Cain, for Gora, for all who died. For all still alive.

"I'm ready," she said. "I'll meet her tomorrow. And I'll learn the truth."

They returned to the main building by the same path, avoiding patrols. Iris felt resolve rising within her, sweeping away all doubt. She'd seen how 'Eden' worked. How it destroyed people, turning them into slaves. And she knew she had to stop it. Find 'Protocol 7.' Free these people, even if they didn't know they were in prison.

When they returned to the room, Elian opened the door and gestured her inside.

"Rest," she said. "Tomorrow is an important day. I'll send for you in the morning."

Iris entered, and the door closed behind her. She walked to the window and looked at the field in the distance. Saw clones still working, movements growing more mechanical, faces emptier. Saw 'Eden' consuming them, grinding them in its mill.

"I will stop this," she whispered into the silence. "I will stop you, Lena. I promise."

Iris closed the door behind her and leaned against it, feeling cold metal press into her back through her thin shirt. Her heart still pounded-not from the run, but from what she'd seen in the fields. Those clones, their empty eyes, mechanical movements, quiet voices almost saying they still remembered themselves. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She had to remember this. Every face, every moment, so when the time came, she'd have the strength.

She stepped away from the door and slowly surveyed the room. She'd seen it before, but now, after what she'd learned, she saw it differently. Not a guest room, but a cage. Perfect, beautiful, but a cage. White, smooth walls, no cracks, no stains. Simple, elegant furniture-a neatly made bed, table, chair, small wardrobe. A perfect landscape painting on the wall-mountains and a lake, too perfect to be real. A soft carpet, feet sinking into it. Everything designed for comfort. Everything designed to make guests not want to leave.

Iris walked to the window and looked down. The garden she'd seen before now seemed different. Trees in neat rows, crowns precisely trimmed, looking like decorations, not living things. Flowers blooming in perfect buds, petals not falling, as if time had stopped. Everything was controlled. Every plant, every bush, every leaf part of the system governing this world.

She ran her hand over the glass. Cold and smooth, like everything else. She tried to find a way to open the window, but it was secured, like in the quarantine room. She wasn't surprised. Lena wouldn't leave her openings.

She stepped away from the window and approached the bed. Sat on the edge, the mattress soft and comfortable. Silk coverlet, smooth and cool. Everything in this room designed to calm, lull, make you forget why you're here. But Iris couldn't forget. Couldn't allow herself to relax.

She remembered the field, the clones, their empty eyes. The young man who'd almost said he was human. The overseer snuffing out that spark, turning him back into a machine. Anger and despair rose within her. She was in the enemy's heart, but helpless. Didn't know where 'Protocol 7' was. How to stop this system. If she could do anything at all.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. She had to think clearly. Find a way to buy time, a weak spot in this perfect system. She remembered Elian's words: "Lena knows where the 'Protocol' is. She's the only one with access." So she had to make Lena talk. Meet her tomorrow and ask the right questions. But Lena wouldn't talk without pressure. She had to find a way to force her.

She opened her eyes and looked at her hands. Thin, with long fingers, used to microscopes and test tubes. Not made for fighting. But they could do more than research. Hold a weapon if needed. Clench fists. Fight.

She stood and began examining the room more thoroughly. Every corner, every crack, every surface. Searching for hidden cameras, microphones, any surveillance devices. In a place like 'Eden,' she was certainly being watched. A guest, but also a prisoner.

She found them. Three small devices hidden in walls, behind the picture, under the table. Nearly invisible, but she knew how to look. She took a small screwdriver from her pocket-carried in case she needed to fix something-and began carefully disconnecting them, trying not to damage the wiring. She didn't want Lena to know she knew about them. She left one, the smallest, hidden in the corner, to give them the illusion of control.

When she finished, she sat on the bed, exhaustion washing over her. She hadn't slept for nearly two days, her body demanding rest. But she couldn't sleep. Couldn't relax until she was sure she was safe.

She stood and walked to the table. A note lay on it, which she hadn't noticed before. She picked it up and read: "Welcome to Eden. We hope you find peace and tranquility here. If you need anything, just press the call button. We're always happy to help." Written in perfect handwriting, no smudges. Like a brochure, not a personal message.

Iris crumpled the note and tore it into pieces. She didn't want peace and tranquility. She wanted the truth. And she was ready to fight for it.

She walked to the wardrobe and opened it. Simple, comfortable clothes hung inside, perfectly sized. Another sign she was being watched. They knew her size, habits, preferences. They knew everything about her. But not the main thing. Not that she was ready to sacrifice herself to stop them.

She chose a simple white blouse and dark pants. She didn't want to look like a guest come for tea. She wanted to look like someone ready for battle. She changed, feeling the fabric settle on her body, becoming part of her. She was ready.

She walked to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. White, smooth, without cracks. She stared at it, thoughts churning like broken wheels. She thought of her mother, holding her hand the last time, saying: "I will leave you the key. You know what to do." She thought of Cain, his smile, holding her hand and promising everything would be fine. She thought of Gora, stern eyes, teaching her to be strong.

She thought of what she had to do tomorrow. Meet Lena. Make her talk. Find 'Protocol 7.' Stop this world.

She closed her eyes and let herself drift into darkness. She didn't know what awaited her tomorrow, but she knew one thing: she wouldn't give up. She would fight to the end. For her mother. For Cain. For Gora. For all who died, and all still alive.

She fell into a restless, disturbed sleep, full of images of clones with empty eyes, perfect trees, and Lena's voice whispering: "Happiness is the absence of choice."

She woke to a soft knock at the door. She opened her eyes, heart beating faster. She stood, fatigue still lingering, but adrenaline already flooding her blood.

The door opened, and Elian stood on the threshold.

"Good morning, Doctor Iris," she said, her voice as quiet as the day before. "Lena is ready to receive you. She's waiting in her quarters."

Iris nodded.

"I'm ready," she said. "Lead the way."

She stepped out, resolve rising within her. She was ready for anything. She would meet Lena. Ask all her questions. Learn the truth. And do what she came to do.

She followed Elian through the labyrinth of white corridors, her steps firm, confident. She knew this was only the beginning. A long battle lay ahead. But she was ready. Ready to fight to the end. For all who believed in her. For all who waited for her return. For freedom.

Elian left, leaving Iris alone in the corridor before the door leading back to her room. She stood for a few seconds, listening to the silence enveloping her like a thick blanket. Not a sound-no guards' steps, no voices, no wind outside. Only silence. Deep, oppressive, almost tangible.

Iris entered the room and closed the door. She walked to the window and looked at the garden, now dark. Artificial lights softly illuminated the paths, reflecting in perfect puddles that never dried even at night. Everything was calm, peaceful, perfect. But she knew the calm was deceptive.