I Am Extraordinary Alone
Chapter 509 - 507: Erase That Name

Chapter 509: Chapter 507: Erase That Name

Spencer raised his hand to glance at his wristwatch.

It was 12 noon.

At this moment, he was sitting in a bulletproof sedan, with a sealed space outside the window.

To put it bluntly, the car was stopped inside a large underground elevator which, along with the platform, was slowly descending along the tracks.

meters underground, behind the surrounding walls and ceiling, lay a 50-meter-thick lead layer that blocked all electronic signals and could also prevent X-ray-based scrutiny.

Not only that, it was also a quasi-nuclear-proof facility, so that even if a nuclear war raged above, the people inside could still party with peace of mind.

Spencer believed that the Human Connection Plan Foundation was currently facing a tremendous threat.

Although governments from various countries around the world were still trying to contact him and ally with him, hoping to use him as a tool to exert pressure on their adversaries in politics and the military, just as before.

But evidently, Spencer had severed such thoughts.

No one could make use of Wei Tianyang now, not even himself. He was no longer the spokesperson he had wanted to be.

When a person falls into the abyss of historical nihilism and existential void, denying their past beliefs and choices, they could either continue to sink or bounce back suddenly, doing their utmost to make up for their futile times.

Spencer believed that Wei Tianyang had chosen the latter, and moreover, he had begun to use some extreme methods.

He wasn’t sure whether this change was a mere psychological compensation, or if Wei Tianyang had lost his humanity and become a true outsider, but one thing was for sure, Wei Tianyang had become a threat.

The large elevator had reached the bottom, and the car started up again. In the rearview mirror, several SUVs filled with superpower agents followed behind.

Down the long corridor, only the roaring of the engines could be heard as the convoy passed rows of hanging lights, arriving in front of a huge iron gate.

Several seconds later, the thick metal gate emitted a ding ding sound of metal parts moving from within, followed by the clanking noise, the gate slid open.

The vehicles entered the real bunker inside, and the thick iron gate closed behind them.

Spencer got out of the car; the space was as big as a football field with a height of about 80 meters. The ground around was a parking lot, where numerous bulletproof vehicles of a low-profile yet sturdy appearance were already parked.

And in the center of this space stood a lead-colored six-story rectangular building, not too big.

The building was like a cast from a single mold – no excessive decor, bare on the outside, with even electrical wires and water pipes exposed, and without windows, there were only four sets of double doors on the front, back, left, and right that acted as passageways.

Spencer was escorted by a dozen agents into the building.

The entire corridor was also gray, lit by the incandescent bulbs overhead. The doors to each room were uniform, windowless iron-gray, making the place look like a prison.

However, this was the last bastion of the Human Connection Plan Foundation.

The truly effective way of isolating from the outside world was to close oneself off, burying oneself underground, thus rejecting the voices from the entire world.

Spencer arrived at the large conference hall on the fourth floor, which alone took up the entire floor and could accommodate a thousand people.

Circular seating gathered from the walls toward the center of the room, with the highest seats nearly reaching the ceiling, and in the very center of the room, there was a small circular podium, enough for one person to stand there.

People had started to take their seats in the conference room, having been summoned here from all over the world over the past few days, wearing memetic-blocking masks, some even self-hypnotized to forget Wei Tianyang’s name.

Now, they sat here to discuss only one topic: how to deal with a god.

After Spencer took his seat, he waited another ten minutes until everyone had arrived. Then, he issued the command to seal the building through his mobile phone; the entire structure was locked down from the inside, no one could enter, and no one could leave. Meanwhile, outside the building, hundreds of superpower agents had the building tightly surrounded, remaining vigilant even in this underground sealed space.

"Then, let’s forgo the niceties, everyone. I sent out an email a few days ago, that name... it should no longer be mentioned," Spencer said into the microphone.

Everyone remained silent.

"From today forward, we’ll refer to the individual who was supposed to become our god as ’It’. Regardless of the language, uttering Its name will alert It to your location, and after touching you, It can read your memories. In Its presence, no one has any secrets," Spencer continued.

Everyone understood what this meant.

"We can’t rely solely on the frail will of humanity to prevent errors, so I’ve called everyone here, myself included, to undergo a form of memetic infection," Spencer said, taking off his glasses and looking back at the people in their seats.

Everyone nodded in understanding.

"In a moment, a neurotoxic gas will be released. We will completely lose the ability to utter Its name; the sensation will be akin to transient amnesia or a loss of tongue muscle control. Our bodies will restrict us as naturally as our fear of snakes, inscribed into our DNA," Spencer explained.

He took a deep breath, and after several minutes, a faint aroma of whiskey malt spread throughout the hall.

"A delightful scent, I selected it carefully," Spencer said with a smile.

Everyone also began to smile, the aroma entering their nostrils as if someone had placed a glass of good liquor under their noses. It was just that brief moment, and then, the scent was gone.

The entire process lasted less than five minutes. The gas inside the room hadn’t even evacuated, but those who had breathed it soon lost the ability to recognize the scent, feeling nothing. They removed their memetic-blocking masks, yet still dared not try to utter that name.

"Alright, now, at least within our circle, It has died, in the context of Its name," Spencer declared.

Did it really work? Everyone exchanged silent glances.

"You might as well try it, try to say that name. To be honest, I’ve already forgotten what It was called," Spencer suggested.

Then, those who were slightly more daring opened their mouths, ready to speak, but they had forgotten what to say.

"I really forgot," stated one lady calmly.

"I tried to recall in my mind, but I can’t find that name. It means we are safe now," added one gentleman.

After everyone had tried and confirmed that the name had indeed been erased from their minds, they couldn’t help but cheer.

"Ezekiel once saw a future, one that portended the end of mankind. At first, we thought this apocalyptic crisis came from above, but now, having witnessed Its actions, I am reluctant to think this way, but it’s also possible that the future was crafted by It," Spencer stated.

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