"WAKE UP, HELLDIVERS! It's time to bring democracy to this planet!"
Sergeant Boyle's magnificent roar is capable of waking anyone. And yet, I was having a dream about my new Motherland, which had accepted me for who I am and raised me to be a loyal patriot and defender.
Ah, Super Earth—my dear new home. A wonderful place where freedom, equality, and democracy are not just empty words. Everything here is just like an idealist's fantasies. It's so wonderful that sometimes it's hard to believe it's reality and not a dream.
It's so good here.
Clean streets, friendly people. Order and tranquility at every step. Everyone labors for the glory of our great state so that humanity can continue to conquer the stars.
Each of us is part of something larger, that very thing, the great... And I will proudly fight for Super Earth, for its ideals are worth it.
Believe that? Don't hold your breath, you little shits.
Jumping out of bed, I immediately suit up in my armor. Toothbrushing will happen right inside the suit; I'll just flip on the emergency disinfection, and that's that. Then I can have a snack—paste from a tube. They brought in new ones yesterday—meat-flavored—so my hunger will be one hundred percent satisfied until lunch. Oh, blessed democracy. Good days do happen.
But none of my thoughts distracted me from the main task. Passing by the flag, I stop abruptly, pivot, and raise my fist to chest level. The military salute must always be performed; otherwise, the recording from the camera installed in the corner of my room will be sent where it needs to go, and my "happy" new life will come to an untimely end. Besides, I am proud of this flag; I've shed so much blood for it, after all.
"Yes, this is my life now."
Super Earth. A crazed state built on lies that I've soaked in completely, without even realizing it, hoping that my pretense would protect me. Like hell it did.
I've been corrupted; I let it crawl into my head and, without even noticing, became a perfect cog for the local state machine. I became one of them.
A damn dystopia where everyone smiles at you with idiotic faces, believing the propaganda blaring from everywhere. On uniforms, on posters, on the radio, on TV, on buildings, cars, on animals, children—hell, sometimes they even plant trees in the shape of the emblem or iconic symbols!
The anthem is always playing. Everywhere, someone is constantly swearing allegiance to the flag, while in dark alleys, those who slipped up or got confused by the words repeated day after day are dragged into paddy wagons.
And I became just like them. There is no other option here: those who go against the system disappear forever, and only their names flicker in tiny lists of traitors to the Motherland.
People here are generally divided into three categories.
Those who don't believe in democracy—crazed assholes. There are many of them, though you don't see them on the streets. I wonder why?
The second type are the idealists and fanatics, those who ask no questions at all. For example, Sergeant Boyle is exactly like that, ready to easily give his life if those in high offices decide it would be for the best.
The third type are people like me. Those who keep their traps shut, smile, and try not to arouse suspicion, but nonetheless slowly turn into either the second or the first type. I'm leaning more toward turning into the second, so... draw your own conclusions.
"Less thinking, more doing." Seeing myself in the mirror, I catch the insane, idiotic gaze of a true maniac. Usually, no one sees our faces; at some point, even we ourselves begin to perceive the helmet as our own head.
Packed up to my ears, I allow myself, as prescribed in the regulations, a few seconds to enjoy the moment, inhaling the scent of the disinfectant, after which I head out of the room with a confident stride, straight toward the bridge.
As I move along, music begins to play and screens light up on either side of me. Words about democracy, freedoms, equality, and a bright future pound against my ears. I listen to them, but I don't hear them, for I already know the text by heart, just like everyone else on the ship.
Following me from parallel corridors come three others exactly like me. Helldivers—the local elite, heroes of comic books and games, the ones they make movies about, and the ones who never return to Super Earth, because living heroes aren't needed.
No words. No greetings, not even basic nods of the head. We haven't had any contact with each other for a long time, as our work and lifestyle quickly beat that shit out of us, leaving only war and democracy.
Standing by the holoprojector, we habitually listen to a brief briefing consisting of a couple of sentences, after which I head toward my pod with a rhythmic step, for deployment begins immediately and there is no time to figure out what's happening.
My feet settle into the grooves as usual, the floor lowers, and the hatch slams shut over my head, locking me in the Hellpod.
Three. Two. One. No one likes to wait here.
With a roar, I and three of my comrades are launched into open space and hurtle toward the surface at full speed, piercing the atmosphere. Fire roars around us, while I, conversely, feel calm, for this place is the best in the entire damn universe. Five minutes of silence where no one will touch me and I can relax my face, letting my true emotions come to the surface.
The helmet cameras aren't connected yet, and there are none inside the pod at all!
Memories of how I ended up here crawled into my head.
I'd like to say that my life took a sharp turn for the better. Но that would be such a blatant lie that even the most hardened and brazen politician on Super Earth would look at me with skepticism.
How does it usually go in these situations? All those stories about "isekai" protagonists are full of this kind of stuff... You save someone or die tragically, regretting that you didn't experience the taste of life...
And then, at the crossroads of worlds, you meet a god, a goddess, or a higher being who rewards you or apologizes for the mistake that led to your untimely death...
It admires your courage, praises your calm and sober mind, and therefore allows you to choose the world where you will live your new life as a gift. Taking advantage of the perks of meta-knowledge...
Yeah, right! And what kind of idiot would ever want to come here anyway?!
I have no idea if I died or not. Maybe I was just pulled here, though more likely it's that very chance of error that is worth cursing.
There were no goddesses, only a vicious, frenzied Master Sergeant who met me with a punch to the liver instead of a greeting. I remember that day for the rest of my life, damn it. Sometimes I still see him in my nightmares.
I was worked over so hard for stupid questions and slow reactions to orders that I was pissing blood for a week afterward. My whole body was covered in hematomas; even sleeping was painful.
And that happened more than once. Because I found myself in a truly incredible place, which is worth telling you about in more detail.
Super Earth. A future where human hegemony has slowly but surely begun to spread beyond our Solar System. People have conquered the abysses of cosmic space, easily traversing distances to other planets in mere hours.
We attained longevity, created incredible cities on other planets, settled countless worlds, and united into a single state...
But the price of this victory was, to put it mildly, high. Super Earth is—forgive me for saying so... it's just a complete clusterfuck.
Super Earth represents a cruel parody of an ideal society where everyone is equal, but in reality, it's just a facade, a sign on a building covering a stifling reality. People live in constant fear of punishment for any deviations from the rules, and even thoughts of freedom or independence are considered rebellion.
Don't want to sing the anthem with your neighbors at six in the morning? Solitary confinement and community service await you.
Didn't stand up when you heard the anthem or failed to show respect to the flag? A month of house arrest and community service.
Power on Super Earth is concentrated in the hands of a small group of leaders who control all aspects of people's lives, from the economy to education. These rulers use modern technologies for surveillance and the suppression of dissent. Propaganda is active at all levels: the media, advertising, and even educational institutions are filled with ideas about how wonderful it is to live under their rule.
On TV, on street posters, in schools, at work, in any cafe, hell, even in the latrines... Everywhere you will find booklets, posters, hear announcements, or listen to an emergency message.
The culture of Super Earth is formed around the idea of the "collective good," however, in practice, this means that individual needs are ignored. Freedom of speech and self-expression are practically non-existent, and any creative endeavors are carefully controlled. People are conditioned to the idea that happiness can only be found in loyalty to the system.
The irony is that even the local music, movies, games—everything, really—is under state control. There is no bohemia here, no bloggers, no stars, and so on. Only responsible workers, civil servants performing their assigned tasks.
Technology on Super Earth serves as both a tool of control and a method of mass manipulation. For example, biometric technologies are used to track the location of citizens. Discoveries in the medical field are aimed at creating the "ideal" citizen rather than genuinely improving the quality of life. Artificial intelligence manages many aspects of daily life, limiting individual choice and autonomy.
Cameras are everywhere, patrols are everywhere, and microphones are embedded in every citizen's clothing to constantly monitor their speech.
Now that, bitch, is what I call a state of freedom and equality...
But Super Earth wouldn't have stood long on tyranny and prohibitions alone.
There really is no crime here. The streets are safe and clean, and many—even the majority—are happy, believing in tomorrow. Something like that is worth fighting for, for the sake of the common people, probably...
But it's not just the perfect facade of happiness that helps keep the people in check.
To whitewash their actions and justify all the surrealism and horror happening here, the government constantly searches for enemies and those who will become an external threat to direct humanity's wrath against them.
Managed Democracy, damn it.
Sometimes, "accidentally," dwarf human states that split off in ancient times are discovered in space, and sometimes true enclaves of "godless heathens and communists" are found, who surely want to attack and destroy us.
And recently, other forms of life were discovered... Oh, that became a true holiday for the government. A numerous, terrifying-looking, easily killable enemy that would make an excellent punching bag.
And we will be the ones punching it. The Helldivers.
Of course, for a state like Super Earth, ordinary infantrymen wouldn't do. Classic troops exist here, and they are strong, dangerous, and numerous—they are precisely the tool that shouldn't be sent to the front. The army is needed at home to make sure the people don't raise their heads.
But as for underage idiots like the previous owner of this body—there are plenty of them, and they aren't missed; they can be sent into the inferno to bring democracy to desolate planets... Where there's absolutely nothing!
Besides, there is a small secret here as to how Super Earth can sacrifice millions of divers every day and not worry about it. And I'll tell you about it, but first, a little prelude to make it go down smoother.
Everything happening to me in this world wouldn't be so terrifying if I had taken the bold step of a weak man as soon as I ended up here. Realizing that death would end the suffering and I wouldn't have to slowly make a deal with my conscience, I delayed the moment, more or less convincing myself that there was nothing scary about Super Democracy... But, unfortunately, my character wasn't so hardened back then; I hadn't seen so much shit and hadn't believed in democracy, and therefore I couldn't end it all with one pull of the trigger.
Back then in boot camp, I wanted to kill myself, fearing life in such a society. This "isekai" business, the constant beatings, the drilling, and the propaganda, propaganda, propaganda...
All that shit was pounding my brain, so I almost gave up, but at the last moment, I couldn't do it. And, my god, how I regret that now.
Helldivers, the bastion of freedoms beyond the metropolis... Great warriors, pillars of freedom in wild worlds inhabited by cyborgs, outcasts, and carnivorous bugs.
Every single one of them. Clones. Yes, damn it, clones.
My memories were interrupted by the pod's impact with the ground. The walls nimbly retracted into the earth, revealing a vast orange wasteland where fiery storms lashed down from the heavens.
Grabbing my rifle, I was already about to look around and find my squad, but then a rocket flew into my face, blowing me to pieces.
The agony didn't last long this time. Just a moment and—boom—I'm crawling out of a special pod where the clone bodies are stored again. Information copied directly from the brain before sleep helped me get my bearings...
Only thing is. While ordinary divers remembered everything up until yesterday, I remembered my own death too. I don't know the reason, but every time I died, I returned to a clone's body, perfectly aware and understanding everything. But it's not supposed to be like that!
When I was burned.
Torn to pieces.
Blown up by my own.
Dissolved by acid.
Shot by robots.
Or eaten by bugs.
Every...
Damn...
Time.
Everything, down to the last second. And I repeat, it's not supposed to be like that! My displacement into this world is to blame! Chaos Gods, Spirits, or the Great Force! Whoever did this, I hope that one day I can get to you, because as long as even one clone is alive—my goddamn soul returns to their bodies, constantly forcing me to experience all this shit all over again.
Holy freedom, how sick I am of this. Fighting and killing. Eating paste and dying. I swear by everything I have, if I ever get to be reborn again, I will become the kindest person and solve all issues with words, not fists. Well, almost all of them.
Griping my rifle with disgust, I enter the pod again.
This time I didn't even make it to the ground. Goddamn robots shot me down on the approach. Cursed machines. We're out here trying to bring them blessed freedom, and they...
I wake up in cryo-freeze again and, staggering, exit the pod, making my way to the bridge. Everything around me is plastered with Super Earth symbols, and the Sergeant is giving the crew pompous speeches, proudly watching me go.
How tired I am of this. Sometimes I just want to be in silence... Find a girl, have a beer, travel, or do something dangerous and idiotic that is forbidden here.
Many will ask why not try to destroy the ship myself, escape, or do anything else...
I tried. I experimented. I devised plans.
But it always ends the same way.
The brig, torture, interrogations, and finally a scene in the style of "A Clockwork Orange." By the forty-sixth time, I was so filled with the movies they forced me to watch that I just waved it off.
And they returned me to service. And all the clones from that batch were deemed defective and scrapped, as were, most likely, the workers who created them. Equality, what can you say.
This time I managed to run a couple of dozen meters before a beam of incandescent plasma hit us from the sky. Scorching the earth ten meters deep, it swept through the area, destroying everyone and us along with them.
The pod again.
Where was I? Ah right, Super Earth and all its perks... Perhaps someone will say that I'm whining for nothing and should have become better, cooler, and more dangerous. Kill enemies in droves, fight my way to the "mythical top of the ranks," and maybe one day become something more.
At first, I wanted to. But after dying a few hundred times, it all becomes tedious and moves to the background, and you yourself just want to live peacefully. Though, it's unlikely I'll ever be able to become a normal and sane person.
New deployment. Loading. Flight. Impact.
This time everything went better. Two hours had passed while I was alive, and here we were reaching the last Automaton point, preparing to bring the righteous flame of freedom down on their heads.
But something went wrong. Preparing to throw the beacon for an orbital strike, I looked uncomprehendingly at the darkened wrist screen, staring at my own reflection on the black surface.
"U-u-um. There's no signal from the Soul of Justice..."
"Did the fleet leave?" One of my battle brothers stepped closer.
"No, it..."
Right then, an explosion occurred in the sky above our heads. Tearing through the clouds, massive Automaton ships began to enter the planet's atmosphere, gunning down our cruisers. One after another, dozens of vessels were destroyed and, as it turned out, one of ours was among them.
"Well, shit. The Soul of Justice was shot down."
"Yeah?"
"Yep, there it goes, falling."
"That sucks."
That's the kind of conversation you have with mental invalids. Among whom I feel like one of my own.
"Great democracy... What are we going to do?"
We all glanced at each other simultaneously, shrugging. In the sky above our heads, the Super Earth fleet continued to perish, and we just stood and watched.
"Oh, look, a tin-can ship is coming in for a strike."
One of the guys pointed a finger at a large aircraft glowing with a scarlet light. None of us moved. What was the point? No ammo, no support. The mission was definitely failed, and there was no new task.
But...
Unlike my colleagues, I felt a smile blooming on my face under the helmet. Finally, it would all end, and the cherished freedom would come to me.
Hanging my rifle on my belt, I spread my arms wide as if trying to embrace the approaching ship.
The other divers glanced at each other silently and began to settle in more comfortably. One sat down on the rocks, relaxing his tired back.
Another pressed his fist to his chest, standing proudly with his head held high, stubbornly facing approaching death.
The last one stood next to me, mimicking my pose.
This clearly isn't normal, you might say. Well, yeah, that's how it is. We all stopped giving a damn about death a long time ago, and no one here is definitely going to surrender.
The seconds flew by quickly, and in an all-consuming flash, I finally felt what seemed long forgotten. The cold of death. Real and all-cleansing.
It was magical. Such a lightness, as if all the shackles that had held me for long years had fallen away... And I don't even know how many years I lived in such a frantic and tense mode.
Feeling myself dissolving into non-existence, I smiled one last time, only to wake up with a wild scream in a soft bed.
"A-a-a-ah!"
Falling onto the floor, feeling a spasm and a shiver run through my body, I look around frantically, noting... the mundanity. A simple child's room, toys, scattered things, a bit of trash.
But then the full horror of the situation hit me.
"For fuck's sake! Again!"