At that moment, a long, eerie siren sounded in the distance, as if warning of something terrible. Delia Asia Vieira immediately activated all her sensors, aiming them at the surrounding area. The external environment gradually began to form an alarming picture. She found herself on the edge of some kind of guarded perimeter - an area she knew nothing about. High concrete walls topped with barbed wire surrounded her, as if creating an impenetrable barrier.
She looked around and noticed several armored Hummer transporters at the gate of an abandoned building. From the outside, it looked like a red brick manufacturing facility, about fifteen meters high. At home, it was as if the darkness was thickening around the place, so that no doors or windows were visible, only empty, dead walls. Instinct told Delia Asia Vieira that something was wrong here, that this object should not exist in her plans.
As she glanced around, she noticed that the area was completely empty. It was quiet, there were no footsteps, no noise - no shadows of people moving along the walls, no living creatures other than her. But as she focused on the building, the silence was suddenly broken.
From inside the vast, empty building, strange sounds came - first faint, dull thuds, like metal objects falling onto a concrete floor. Then terrible screams, desperate, as if someone was trapped and trying to escape. The screams were like those of a person who had lost all hope, but they became more and more painful with each passing moment.
"Please, don't leave me! Help!" someone's voice screamed.
It was distorted and torn with fear, as if the man was on the verge of madness. He continued to beg, but not for help. His words turned into wild sobs, turning into terrible hoarse moans. Each cry sounded like a ringing that squeezed the heart.
Then, for a second, everything was silent. It seemed that the sound had gone, but a moment later, from the very depths of the building, a terrible, terrifying scream erupted, echoing in the empty city. It was a cry of pain, despair and hurt, so strong that even the walls seemed to absorb it.
"No... no! I can't anymore! I can't!" the breaking voice continued to sound in the emptiness, like the cry of a soul torn apart from within.
Delia Asia Vieira froze in place. These cries were not just sounds, these were not just calls for help - they were distorted by something supernatural, something that could not belong to this world. She felt her sensors begin to malfunction from overload, trying to grasp their origin. Her recognition system could not explain these sounds - they were too strange and inexplicable.
Robotess took a step forward. She knew she had to explore this place, find out what was behind these walls. But at the same time, she felt something strange in the air - as if the very atmosphere here was saturated with tension, which only grew stronger with every move she made.
Her steps became cautious, slow, despite her confidence in her actions. Each step she took towards the building, towards this source of fear and pain, seemed like a challenge to herself. The thought that there was something much more hidden here than just an abandoned structure did not subside in her head.
As she got closer, Delia Asia Vieira noticed changes that couldn't be explained before her eyes. The sidewalk she was walking on slowly began to transform. The concrete tiles disappeared and were replaced by heavy rust, as if the ground itself was rotting under her feet. Metal grates and platforms began to crawl out from under the asphalt, as if an unknown force was pulling them out. Iron bars began to twist under her feet, and the entire street took on the appearance of a prison yard, in which the buildings around became cages for animals. Instead of windows and doors, there were now only metal bars on the walls, behind which advertising posters dimly flickered. They didn't have time to tell anything specific, but one word managed to flash through her head - "sale". And this word was somehow strange, frightening, as if it had no right to exist in this place.
Delia Asia Vieira froze in place, her sensors registering the changes, but her mental processes were disrupted by the very image that unfolded before her. The streets were no longer what they had been - the world she knew was disappearing, turning into something absurd and incomprehensible.
And then they appeared.
Two silhouettes, slowly and surely approaching along the crooked street. One was dressed like a priest, in the black cassock of the Capuchin order, but instead of the usual cross around his neck he had several gold chains, intertwined, glittering in the dim light of the lanterns. He moved with a special, almost ceremonial majesty, as if this place and this moment had been created exclusively for him.
The second man looked as if he was not a man at all. He was dressed in strange clothes, dark, very worn, and seemed alien to this world even under this dim lighting. His figure seemed to dissolve in the darkness, but despite this, he seemed twice as bright as everything around him.
The sounds coming from them couldn't be anything ordinary. They weren't footsteps. They were a horrible, piercing grinding noise, as if their bodies weren't made of flesh and blood, but of metal that was clinging rigidly to the ground and creating sounds reminiscent of industrial music. The clanking of metal and mechanical grinding pierced the silence of the night, as if these people weren't living beings, but giant speakers on legs, hooked up to some kind of terrifying record players.
The sounds coming from them evoked the heavy chords of rock music, something from the late rock era. And in Delia Asia Vieira's mind, associations immediately arose with groups like Pink Floyd, but with some kind of inhuman, unimaginable melancholy. It was something like sounds that were not played on ordinary devices, but on super-powerful vinyl record players, distributing terrifying music as if it had been recorded in another time, in another dimension.
In the distance, at the end of the alley, her gaze caught on a small shop that seemed completely unremarkable at first glance, but something about its appearance caught her attention. She walked towards it, unable to ignore the strange attraction.
As she got closer, she noticed that it was a jewelry store, but it looked abandoned. The glass cases were covered in dust, and the doors creaked when she opened them, and it was so quiet inside that her footsteps seemed deafening.
The inside was empty, except for one odd element: a mannequin standing behind the counter. Around its neck hung two rows of gold chains, glittering in the dim light coming through the dirty windows. It seemed as if the mannequin shouldn't be there, just like the store itself. It looked unnatural, like something forgotten and abandoned.
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't explain to herself why she felt the need to go over and touch it. Maybe it was the underlying anxiety that everything in this place was not true. She walked up to the mannequin and gave it a gentle push with her hand. The mannequin wobbled and then fell to the floor, shattering against the marble tiles with a loud clang. But instead of shattering into pieces of plastic, it was as if it were made of glass, and the sound of its fall filled the air as if the world around her were cracking.
She froze, looking in surprise at the remains of the mannequin, but her attention was suddenly drawn to other sounds - light footsteps, almost inaudible, but they carried a threat. Delia Asia Vieira turned around, ready for any movement. On the threshold of the store stood figures that, despite their human outlines, immediately seemed unnatural to her. Small, with dark silhouettes, their faces were hidden in the shadows. In their hands were hypodermic syringes, hidden under their clothes.
They stood motionless, their small eyes staring at her without any expression. These people, or non-people, did not move, but something about their presence made Delia Asia Vieira feel threatened. Her sensors began to sound alarms, but she could not find it in herself to take a step back. She could not understand what was happening in this strange place.
The small figures began to approach, but Delia Asia Vieira could not resist the weariness that suddenly overwhelmed her. Her entire system, despite its artificial origin, was overcome by an unnatural weakness, as if something had broken in its mechanism. She tried to resist, but her body became too heavy. Her eyes began to close, and eventually, despite all her efforts, she fell onto the cold tiles right in the center of the store, swallowed by the fog of sleep.
At that moment, her thoughts became blurred and she sank into a dark silence, as if her body had completely dissolved into this strange and alien world. And then she slowly came to consciousness, feeling a strange heaviness in her body, as if she had spent long hours in some deep thought or oblivion. When her eyes opened, she found herself lying on a hard wooden bench, half-blindly looking at the dim light coming through the dusty windows. The room was covered in gray light, and the air was permeated with the smell of stale food and old wood. She sat up a little, trying to regain clarity in her thoughts. On the table in front of her stood several empty cans, forgotten bottles of drinks, and the whole scene resembled nothing more than a dusty world left behind by someone's tragedy.
"Where am I?" she wondered for the first time, feeling a strange uneasiness rising in her chest.
Her sensors scanned the space, but their usual signals returned no information she could work with. Her processor simply could not understand how she had ended up here, in this place that seemed forgotten and abandoned, as if the world around her had long since been abandoned by everyone.
She stood up, swaying from weakness, and looked around. The setting was strange: the walls were covered in a layer of dust, the floor was littered with scraps of newspaper and old boxes that had once served as packaging for something important. In the corner stood a rickety refrigerator, next to it a display case with blurred yellow glowing letters on the sign, which bore the name: "At the Dead Writer's." This name sounded strange and mysterious, as if this place was connected with a tragic story that had swallowed someone's soul.
Her gaze fell on an old wooden counter where several fragments of faded photographs hung. Delia Asia Vieira moved closer, trying to figure out what could connect them to this abandoned corner of the world. Among the dusty frames, she noticed several old but still clear images - people sitting at tables, but whose faces looked erased, as if trying to hide their identity. Among them, one photograph stood out - a man with a sad expression, sitting with an empty bottle in his hands. Under the photo, scratched text read: "Not everyone can be saved."
Delia Asia Vieira slowly picked up the photograph and examined it, trying to find any clues about the place or time she found herself in. But that was only the beginning. The walls were covered with old signs advertising local dishes, and one wall in the corner caught her eye with its strange outline. Climbing up to it, robotess found an old door hidden behind scraps of paper and glass. She pulled it open and found complete darkness behind it.
In this pitch blackness, her sensors could barely make out the remains of the glowing signs, as if her system was working at its limit. She took a step forward and felt the floor creak under her feet. At that moment, the air was filled with a strange feeling, as if something invisible was looking at her from the darkness. Her heart stopped for a moment.
She stood up, gathering her strength and pumping up all her sensors for maximum clarity. There, in the darkness, her gaze suddenly caught sight of a silhouette. Her hands instinctively reached for the nearest object, hoping to somehow prepare for a possible threat.
However, as she got closer, she realized it was just an old mirror, slightly clouded with age. And yet, it reflected more than just her figure. It showed the same dusty diner, but with fragments of a story she couldn't understand.
She felt trapped, as if the setting itself was an ominous reflection of something greater - the secrets that lay hidden behind this place. A feeling stirred in her soul that her journey had only just begun. But what should she do next? Delia Asia Vieira continued to glance around the abandoned premises of the Dead Writer's Diner, trying to find any clue that might shed light on what was happening. She scanned the dust-covered shelves, past old boxes and random scraps of newspaper. Every movement of her sensors scanned the environment for hidden signals, but everything remained dead and lifeless, as if she were stuck in some strange time loop.
Then one detail caught her attention - an old metal shelf in the corner, on which, among a pile of forgotten newspapers and books, lay a file of an old magazine. The cover was dusty and slightly damaged, but nevertheless it could be seen. It depicted a portrait of a man with a sad look and dark, almost mystical eyes. The inscription read: "Newark's Last Writer. Special Edition." She carefully picked up the magazine, feeling the cold metal cover under her fingers.
When she opened the first page, she discovered that it was not a literary magazine, as she had expected. It was an entire comic book issue, each page of which depicted vampires and werewolves fighting in the night streets of Newark, Connecticut. Delia Asia Vieira could not believe her sensors. The bright colors, the graphic images, the mystical plots - all this had nothing to do with the reality in which she once lived.
"What nonsense?" she whispered, turning the pages again and again.
The comic was a dark and twisted tale of supernatural beings, secret societies, and battles for power. But at the very center of this chaos was one man-the writer whose face she had seen on the cover. His image seemed mysterious and familiar, as if she had met him somewhere before, although she couldn't remember where.
She flipped through a few more pages and realized that the magazine wasn't just a magazine, but part of something bigger, something elusive. Perhaps it wasn't just a comic book, but an attempt to convey the darkness and mystery that lay hidden in this place.
But the strangeness didn't go away. Each page became more confusing, leaving her with the feeling that someone was deliberately trying to confuse her. The story of vampires and werewolves suddenly felt very personal. The writer in question wrote about the events as if he had witnessed them all - but his word was hazy and distorted.
"It's impossible..." Delia Asia Vieira whispered, feeling her systems begin to overload.
She stood up, clutching the magazine in her hands, when suddenly Jonathan Sheffer, the conductor of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, appeared from a dark closet where nothing seemed to be alive. He was holding a pool cue in his hands, like a weapon. There was a certain madness in his eyes, and Delia Asia Vieira did not immediately understand what he was going to do with it. But as soon as she realized the intentions of this strange man, something even stranger happened.
From another closet, slightly to the right, as if on cue, a group of samurai in traditional costumes, with swords and insignia on their shoulders, rushed out. There was a look of determination on their faces, and their movements were precise and polished, as if they were training for some great battle.
They surrounded Jonathan Sheffer, not giving him any chance to maneuver, and with stern expressions on their faces, they began to speak to him as if it were a matter of honor. One of the samurai, tall and sharp-featured, stepped forward and spoke:
"We, the loyal servants of Sensei Shinoda Okamura, command you to stop this mockery of our culture immediately!" he said. "We do not wish to hear your talentless Mahler Sixth Symphony for a second longer than necessary. It is an insult to our ears!"
The other samurai, drawing themselves up, added in unison:
"If you want to play your music so much, play it until the morning, but don't touch our culture!"
Jonathan Sheffer remained standing among them, his face tense and his hands tightly gripping his cue, as if he were trying to find the moment to attack. His gaze slid over the samurai, apparently thinking of how to break through their defense. But the samurai, although not moving, were listening to his every gesture, waiting for the moment to act.
Delia Asia Vieira stood to the side, watching the scene unfold. Her sensors analyzed the situation, trying to figure out what would happen next. But she couldn't figure out what exactly had caused this man, the orchestra conductor, to suddenly appear here with a weapon in his hands. And why were these samurai, clearly from another era, interfering with his plans?
She listened to their conversation, trying to understand the motivation of the samurai and understand the connection between Mahler's music and their national culture. Apparently, these people viewed the composer's music as something alien and offensive to their ideals, which seemed rather strange in their context.
Jonathan Sheffer still hadn't given up. He held his cue tightly, his body braced for an attack, but the samurai were watching his every move. One of them had a hand ready to touch the hilt of his sword, and there was a feeling in the air that any moment could be decisive.
But despite all the tension, the situation remained in balance. Everything was so absurd and unexpected that Delia Asia Vieira could not understand what to do. It was like a scene from a nightmare - a musician with a gun, samurai demanding that the music stop, and she, standing in the middle of this chaos, as the only observer. The logic of what was happening did not fit into her mind.
Meanwhile, the samurai began to relax slightly, their pressure weakened, and for a moment there was silence in the air, as if they were expecting Jonathan to finally give in. But he, on the contrary, did not retreat, and his tension became even more obvious.
"Get out of here," the samurai finally said with a wicked expression on his face. "Otherwise we'll be forced to intervene."
Jonathan, still clutching the cue, looked at them and slowly, step by step, began to retreat, his eyes full of fire. The samurai watched his every move. One of the samurai, who seemed to be the leader of the group, approached Delia Asia Vieira. He was taller than the others, with dark, slightly loose hair, and there was something unusual in his eyes - a mixture of determination and respect. He silently handed her a miniature katana, exquisitely decorated and sharpened to perfection. The blade was thin, but there was an invisible power in it, as if it could sense the moment when it was to be used.
"This is a sign of respect and faith in your abilities," the samurai said in a soft but confident voice. "Use it wisely, and perhaps you will be able to find answers to your questions. Do not be afraid to go further."
Delia Asia Vieira took the katana carefully, and in that moment, something inside her changed. She felt her sensors reacting to the new object, its physical form, its lightness and at the same time incredible strength. With each passing moment, her hand became more confident in its grip.
The samurai seemed ready to add something, but suddenly he turned and, glancing at the others, said:
"We will return. Don't forget that our help will always be there if you search for answers. But for now, you need to be alone."
Delia Asia Vieira watched his retreating figure, then turned to Jonathan, who seemed to have finally realized that he shouldn't interfere. He hesitated on the threshold, pool cue in hand, unsure of what to do next, but he walked silently into the night.
After they all left the café, leaving Delia Asia Vieira with a miniature katana, she felt the tension recede. However, there was an unknown emptiness inside. She was alone, surrounded by a deserted silence. The city outside the window now seemed even more mysterious and dangerous than before. Who were these samurai? And why did they leave her with this weapon?
She glanced at her katana and moved forward quietly through the half-empty diner, lit only by the dim light from the street lamps coming through the broken windows. Dust and cobwebs accumulated in the corners, and the smell of old age and mustiness hung in the air, as if no human had set foot in this place for a long time. Her sensors were working at full capacity, she scanned the space, analyzing everything around her, but was there a purpose here or just an intuitive desire to find at least some traces that would help understand where she was and how she ended up in this strange place?
The shelves behind the counter were piled high with objects-vintage cans of food, empty bottles, yellowed magazines and newspapers. Delia Asia Vieira couldn't believe that all of this had been abandoned for so long. But more importantly, something about the place felt...off. Nothing was as it should be. Every movement of air seemed drawn out, as if the world itself was trying to keep secrets from view.
She walked over to the nearest shelf and, carefully rummaging through the items, soon came across small wooden figurines. They were carefully carved, with fine details-obviously something antique, perhaps even handmade. Each figurine depicted a different animal: birds, deer, even some creature that looked more like a mythological dragon. What did it all mean? Why were they here, in an abandoned diner, and not in a museum or an exhibit? She shook them, but nothing changed. These figurines couldn't be simple decorations.
Her gaze fell on two bronze masks that were almost unnoticeable on one of the shelves. They were covered in a layer of dust, but they gave the impression of being expensive and very old. The masks looked rather sinister, with expressions that could be described as a mixture of fear and anger. These were not just decorative objects, but something more significant that could be connected to ancient rituals or even a forgotten culture.
However, what caught Delia Asia Vieira's attention the most was a small metal tube lying among all this junk. At first glance, it seemed unremarkable - thin, slightly twisted, with old traces of rust. But its shape and size clearly did not match the things she was used to. It was something more than just a piece of metal. Perhaps it was part of some ancient weapon? Or even an artifact from the past that once played a role in some forgotten history? Delia Asia Vieira carefully took the tube in her hand and immediately felt the coldness of the metal, as if it still retained the power from the times when it was used.
When Delia Asia Vieira looked around the empty diner and decided that there was nothing more to find, she headed for the exit. But as she took a few steps toward the door, a strange sound suddenly began to sound on a nearby table in the corner, as if a radio had turned on by itself. The noise coming from the speakers was unclear and intermittent, at first resembling static electricity, and then growing louder, turning into something strange and ominous. Robotess stopped. Intuitively, she understood: this was not a coincidence.
She turned and walked back to the table. The radio continued to hum, as if someone was trying to make a connection from another world, or from a time long gone. With her sensors tuned to even the smallest changes, it was clear that the source of the noise was no ordinary signal.
She looked carefully at the table and, following her gut feeling, pulled out the drawer underneath. Inside, among the wrappers and empty bags, she found another hiding place. In this dark, hidden place were several candy wrappers, old juice boxes, and a faded photograph of someone Delia Asia Vieira did not recognize. On the back was a date written - many years ago. It was strange. Why exactly were these items hidden here? Something inside made her wary, something was wrong.
But before she could make a decision, something flew in from the street. It flew through the window, leaving glass shards, and suddenly appeared right behind her. Delia Asia Vieira only had time to feel the hot air when it attacked - a black shadow with sharp claws and flying wings. The creature tried to grab her neck, but the robotess wasted no time. She quickly turned, grabbed it by the neck and, using her mechanical powers, fixed it in a chokehold.
Despite its aggression and attempts to resist, the creature was quickly subdued, falling helplessly to the floor. Delia Asia Vieira stood over it, stunned by the moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The monster no longer moved, but something else suddenly caught her attention. Suddenly, her eyes registered something missing. One of the two bronze masks she had found earlier was gone. The mask she clearly remembered on the shelf was no longer in its place. Where could it be? Why had it disappeared?
Thoughts flashed through robotess's head. Everything that happened here was no accident. This monster, the strange radio, the missing mask - all of this was part of some big, intricate puzzle, in the center of which was herself. A shadow of thought flashed in the depths of her black eyes. It seemed that the solution was somewhere nearby. And as strange as it sounded, she had to take another step into the unknown. Leaving the abandoned diner, she headed towards the nearest building that caught her attention.
It was a restaurant with a sign that said "Chocolate Girl," which seemed rather odd in the context of the deserted, empty city. There were no signs of life or movement in its shop windows - everything around seemed frozen in some strange pause. There was a slight tension in the air, almost tangible, and all around there was silence, as if time had stood still here.
Delia walked closer, examining the display case, and noticed that, unlike the diner, the inside was completely clean. Everything was in its place in this empty place: snow-white tablecloths on the tables, glasses and cutlery neatly arranged along the bar, but there were no people. However, for her, as a robot, the absence of life was not something too surprising. After all, her own existence was also an exception to some extent.
She noticed that the restaurant showed no signs of being visited and decided to enter. As soon as she stepped through the door, her attention was immediately drawn to a strange device on the bar. It was an old radio that didn't seem to work given the abandoned atmosphere, but it still emitted a faint static.
Seledoy, not even aware of her feet moving on the cold marble floor, walked over to the radio. It was weak and intermittent, as if it was trying to transmit something through the darkness and emptiness of the city. Gradually the static grew louder, and when Delia Asia Vieira turned up the volume, a restaurant menu appeared on the screen. Unusual for a diner, or any place in this city, the menu changed before her eyes. Strange dishes she had never seen before began to appear one after another, each page with a different language and symbols, strange in appearance, as if the menu had not been written for this reality.
"Paradoxical desserts from parallel universes," she read the inscription out loud, and immediately felt how her sensors instantly began to process new data.
The names that caught her attention were "Etheria Cupcakes," "Acid Heart Molecular Cake," "Shadow World Dark Chocolate," "Memory Cream Pie." These dishes made no sense in her reality, but they were becoming increasingly intriguing.
As the menu continued to change pages, Delia Asia Vieira noticed that the radio was becoming more and more powerful, filling with strange beeps and sounds. She felt information seeping into her system. Each new dish's name, like some kind of spell, brought more and more revelations about the world she had previously considered her own.
"This is impossible," she thought.
Until now, it had seemed to her that the universe, like her place in it, existed in only one dimension - this one. But now, faced with such incomprehensible things, she could no longer be sure that her world was the only one. As if in fact there were many worlds, and these worlds intersected in the most unexpected places.
"Is this all just some kind of experiment? Maybe it's just a game? Or have I ended up in a place where reality breaks down, where everything is possible?" she wondered.
The Chocolate Girl restaurant became for her at that moment not just an abandoned place, but a whole portal opening up new horizons. She could have stayed here for a long time, if not for the strange feeling that her journey was just beginning.
But as soon as she tried to touch the screen with the last menu item, the sound of the radio changed dramatically - it became even more shrill, emitting frequent, seemingly distorted interference.
"The world is not what it seems," came from the speakers, and the menu changed again, but to something completely different.
"You can see more than others. You can know more. Accept it," she whispered to herself.
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't ignore it and walked forward along the street, cautiously studying every corner around her. After many months of searching, every detail, every hint became important. She couldn't believe that she had stumbled upon such a trace - a tiny clue in an anonymous book about a restaurant chain that she had accidentally found in the library of an abandoned cafe. In this book there was a strange chapter dedicated to the "secret history of desserts", which spoke of a crazy pastry chef and a hidden diary. The author pointed to an abandoned school as the place where the diary was hidden, in some old room in the attic.
For Delia Asia Vieira, who seemingly had nothing to lose, this diary became an obsession. She might be a robot, created to perform tasks, but now she was inspired by an entirely different goal - to unravel the mystery hidden in these strange clues.