初次尝了销魂少妇

“The city’s protectors, guardians, and sheriffs have been dispatched to various intersections. Movement between districts has been put on hold, and civilian vehicles have been banned from the roads,” reported a church pastor who had come to greet Agatha. “The city-dwellers who couldn’t make it home before the onset of the fog are being directed to seek shelter in the vicinity. Most of the designated shelters are already full to capacity. We’re working with the Security Department to guide the people towards churches, warehouses, and the closest subway stations.”

The pastor paused at this stage, releasing a heavy sigh. “It’s unfortunate… We could have accommodated more people in places like libraries, but any place storing books is now undergoing a sort of erosion. All repositories of books have been quarantined… This fog started to form right around the time of shift changes at the city’s factories. As a result, many people were stuck far from home.”

Throughout this, Agatha remained quiet. Instead, she slowly shifted her gaze from the deserted street, looking pensively towards the fog-blanketed sky.

The combination of dense cloud cover and the city’s engulfing fog obstructed everything, transforming what should be bright daylight into a dim, twilight-like atmosphere. In this sea of chaotic grey, the sun was nowhere to be found.

“Despite everything, it’s daytime now…” she murmured.

“Yes, it’s daytime, but this unusual fog might be blocking out the sun’s rays,” the pastor responded solemnly, a hint of anxiety seeping into his voice. “The erosion we observed in the library might be related to this…”

“Nothing can obstruct the sun’s power during the day. As long as Vision 001 is in the sky, the power of the sun will remain constant, even if the clouds block the sunlight and the city is as dark as night,” Agatha gently shook her head, contradicting the pastor. “In my opinion, this dense fog is not the cause, but more a ‘symptom’ of a larger crisis at hand… Tell me, what’s the situation on the peak?”

“The cathedral is currently filled to the brim with people,” the pastor quickly responded. Concurrently, several steam walkers, their warning lights flashing like disoriented stars, rumbled their way onto the wide expanse near the exit of the transport station. Among these mechanized behemoths, a vehicle emblazoned with the church’s emblem stood out. “This is your ride. We’ll head back to the mountain first and discuss the situation further during our journey.”

Together, Agatha and the pastor climbed into the flagged car. The steam walkers projected their high-powered beams into the fog, barely cutting through the soupy greyness to illuminate the road ahead. Unfortunately, the vehicle had no choice but to move noticeably slower than usual, charting its course towards the cathedral perched on the mountain peak.

“The onset of this fog caught many worshippers and tourists unprepared, leaving them stranded on the mountain. The cathedral has been doing its best to provide shelter to everyone. Those who we couldn’t accommodate were transferred to the nearby old church museum,” the priest continued to update Agatha as their car trudged along. “City Hall has also set up makeshift shelters, ensuring nobody is left out in the open. Archbishop Ivan has done an admirable job in maintaining a sense of calm within the cathedral and has been using psychic communication to keep in touch with the city’s various chapels. So far, no widespread panic or ensuing contamination has been reported…”

A deep, mechanical growl resonated from outside the car window, causing Agatha to swivel her head towards the source of the sound.

She saw a series of elongated aerial tracks jutting out from above the mountain road, disappearing into the foggy horizon. Like silent titans, immense support pillars held the tracks aloft, and a hefty cargo container hung from one of them, rumbling into the fog-shrouded distance. The container’s red warning lights blinked erratically, appearing like countless eyes peering out from the mist.

This was the transport system integral to Frost’s most significant industry. The mined raw ores would initially be moved to a crushing and sorting facility, and then further transported to a massive furnace at the base of the mountain, courtesy of these gigantic containers and mountain tracks.

“…Is the mining track still operational?” Agatha asked, turning towards the priest in surprise. “Didn’t the workers seek refuge?”

Her thoughts flashed back to a scene she had witnessed not long ago, deep underground in an ancient mining tunnel, which had been depleted decades ago.

“The workers did seek refuge,” the priest looked surprised at the sight of the cargo container but replied confidently, “The church at the mining site confirmed it. It’s likely the last batch of raw ore from the excavation site just arriving. It was probably dispatched automatically by the sorting machine. As you know, the extracted ores are stored in a holding area for some time before they’re shipped out. It’s part of the programmed routine. The machine will simply…”

Suddenly, an ominous rumble cut through the fog, abruptly halting the priest’s confident explanation. Every pair of eyes in the car darted towards the source of the sound, only to spot another dark cargo container barrelling down the same aerial track from the opposite direction—on a collision course with the container that had just passed over the mountain road.

“They’re going to crash!”

The priest barely had enough time to yell a warning before the catastrophic collision ensued. The two cargo containers clashed violently on the aerial track, creating a horrifying cacophony and an explosive burst of energy. The side of one container was ripped open like a tin can, scattering minerals that shimmered with a gentle golden glow all over the mountainside as if it were raining nuggets of gold. Following the violent oscillation of the containers on the track, the drive and auxiliary wheels dislodged, the axles snapped, and the mangled container plunged into the valley below, trailing a shower of sparks and a plume of thick smoke.

A shard of debris hurtling from above narrowly missed the car Agatha was in and crashed into the roadside.

Before anyone in the car could react to this initial disaster, another distressing sound of metal rending echoed from above.

The aerial track, which had borne the brunt of the violent impact, was warping and twisting grotesquely. Sparks erupted from the peak of one of the towering iron supports holding the track, and the steel beams and cables, taut from the tension, snapped with a resounding twang. Then, a whole segment of the track descended from the sky, plummeting towards them!

“Evade!”

The priest in the car screamed out in terror, but even before his outcry could fully escape his lips, the convoy had already begun to avoid the rain of debris from above. The steam walkers dispersed rapidly, and the steam car at the convoy’s center accelerated. After a few heart-stopping seconds, a thunderous crash echoed from behind Agatha.

Whirling around, she saw the shattered track that had obliterated the main mountain road. Two steam walkers were stranded on the other side of the debris, thankfully unscathed. They immediately started to clamber up the rubble with their long mechanical limbs, high-pressure steam venting from the seams in their armor, merging with the foggy backdrop.

“The second and fourth walkers can’t navigate through the wreckage. They’re likely planning to ascend and reach the smaller path above and reroute back to the cathedral. We needn’t wait for them,” Agatha quickly assessed the situation and commanded, “Keep moving.”

“That was too close…” The priest beside her couldn’t resist wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, “We nearly got hit.”

Agatha couldn’t agree more and lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

“Was this a mere coincidence? Or could it have been a deliberate act? Why was a cargo carriage traversing in the opposite direction on a mining track explicitly designed for unidirectional traffic? At this time, all the miners should have sought shelter. The track system operator should have also evacuated after initiating the last train… Also, loading cargo onto the track entails a safety mechanism that prevents departure if another carriage is already on the track. The sorting machine is responsible for this process, and a properly functioning device wouldn’t make such errors; instead, it would diligently execute the program encoded on the punched tape. There’s no room for mishap in this mechanical ballet. This means the sorting machine at the mine might be malfunctioning…” Agatha mused out loud. “But it might not just be the sorting machine at the mine that’s experiencing difficulties. If malevolent spirits could penetrate the library during the day, the scope and urgency of this anomaly could potentially exceed everyone’s initial estimates.”

….

The distant ringing of alarm bells from the city streets subtly permeated the air. A wild, icy wind swept unimpeded across the desolate cemetery while the dense fog shrouded everything in an opaque veil. Within this impenetrable haze, it felt as if countless whispered secrets were blending and reverberating, akin to the restless murmurings of the departed.

Suddenly, the sound of a gun being cocked splintered the silence hanging over the cemetery. The weak glow of a lantern pushed back the foggy shadows. An aged man with a stooped posture tightly clutched a reliable double-barreled shotgun, standing watch on the path, his eyes trained on the orderly array of coffins lurking in the fog.

For now, the whispers were just figments of the imagination. The coffins remained stationary on their funeral platforms, and their inhabitants continued to lie in undisturbed repose. Yet, the eerie sense of foreboding in the atmosphere couldn’t fool the veteran soldier.

He knew something was wrong. The cemetery wouldn’t retain its peace tonight, and some of the “residents” he was “caring for” were slowly beginning to stir.