Chapter 920

"So, in 1972, after doctors determined that your body was beyond saving, you transferred your consciousness into these magnetic tapes?"

Peggy Carter shook her head.

"I don’t remember ever authorizing a project like that."

"Naturally," Arnim Zola replied in his emotionless mechanical voice. "Miss Carter, you have always maintained an unusually harsh attitude toward former HYDRA personnel. Much as you did with Werner Reinhardt. You rejected his offer of cooperation and condemned him to die in a black-site prison."

"He deserved it!"

Peggy’s voice hardened.

Even after all these years, she hadn’t forgotten what she’d discovered when she and the Howling Commandos stormed Reinhardt’s facility.

The things that man had done were unforgivable.

"Perhaps," Zola conceded without the slightest change in tone. "However, there were those who believed your treatment of former HYDRA personnel was motivated by narrow-minded revenge following the disappearance of Captain America. They considered your judgment compromised by personal grief."

His camera shifted slightly.

"Others, by contrast, believed that with appropriate safeguards, my knowledge and scientific expertise could be of considerable value to their cause."

Howard...

Peggy slowly closed her eyes.

Back then, she had been one of the most powerful people in S.H.I.E.L.D. Anyone capable of authorizing a project of this magnitude without her knowledge could only have been one person.

Howard Stark.

Or, more precisely, someone acting with his authority.

"I did help their cause," Zola continued. "But I also helped advance my own."

A mechanical whirring filled the chamber.

"Accessing historical records."

What followed was essentially a comprehensive progress report from HYDRA’s most loyal employee.

A man who had never asked for a salary, never demanded benefits, and apparently considered working around the clock an act of devotion.

Zola began explaining HYDRA’s philosophy.

"HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with freedom. Initially, we failed to understand that forcibly taking freedom away would provoke resistance. War taught us an important lesson."

The screens around the chamber flickered.

"Humanity must surrender its freedom willingly."

Images appeared across the monitors.

Political upheavals. Wars. Assassinations. Dictators rising to power.

"For the past seventy years, HYDRA has secretly cultivated crises throughout the world, using them to advance our objectives. When people refused to cooperate, we altered the course of history."

More images appeared.

Authoritarian leaders from different eras. Political figures whose deaths had changed the course of nations.

And among them, the Winter Soldier.

His assassination missions had been instrumental in shaping modern history.

Natasha stared at the screens.

"Are you telling me nobody ever discovered what you were doing?"

"Unexpected complications are inevitable."

Zola displayed two more photographs.

Howard Stark, dead in what had been officially reported as a car accident.

Nick Fury, assassinated.

He didn’t need to explain further.

People had discovered the truth.

HYDRA had simply eliminated them before they could expose it.

"HYDRA created a world of unprecedented instability," Zola continued. "Eventually, humanity became sufficiently frightened to accept the sacrifice of freedom in exchange for security."

His mechanical voice remained completely flat.

Under different circumstances, the statement might have sounded like the triumphant conclusion of a decades-long master plan.

Instead—

"THE UNITED STATES CAPITAL! THE UNITED STATES CAPITAL! THE WORLD’S LARGEST INTELLIGENCE AGENCY! COLLAPSED! COLLAPSED! HYDRA! HYDRA’S MAKING ITS MOVE! IN THE CROWD! IN THE CROWD! ONE DEAD! A BALD GUY!"

Steve, Peggy, and Natasha all froze.

What?

Had Zola’s ancient computer finally broken down?

Was the magnetic tape malfunctioning?

They turned around.

Evenson was standing at the control console, enthusiastically twisting one of its knobs like a DJ performing at a nightclub.

He was having the time of his life.

"Are you kidding me?!" Steve shouted. "We’re trying to save the world here! Could you take this seriously for five minutes?"

Evenson stopped turning the knob.

He looked at the others with mild disappointment.

"You people have absolutely no sense of humor. You know, those remix videos on YouTube are incredibly popular."

Nobody laughed.

Steve stared at him.

Peggy stared at him.

Natasha stared at him.

Even the machinery seemed to have developed an opinion.

The magnetic tape reels began spinning rapidly, then slowed as though Zola were desperately trying to rewind the last few moments.

After maintaining a stable train of thought for decades, the machine had apparently come dangerously close to a nervous breakdown.

Evenson scratched his head.

"Anyway, I was listening to what he said."

He glanced at the others.

"And honestly, I think there’s some merit to his argument."

Silence.

Steve stared at him.

Natasha’s eyebrows rose.

Peggy looked equally surprised.

Even the magnetic tapes seemed to pause.

That quickly?

They had just spent the last several minutes listening to HYDRA explain why humanity should surrender its freedom, and Evenson had already decided the argument made sense?

Was his ideological loyalty really that fragile?

Evenson shrugged.

"It’s not particularly difficult to understand. Freedom of choice is generally regarded as one of humanity’s most important values. That’s hardly controversial."

He leaned against the console.

"But humans are still biological creatures. Survival and reproduction are fundamental instincts. They’re hardwired into us. From that perspective, the question of whether security is more important than freedom is worth examining."

Natasha frowned.

"Why do you assume freedom necessarily threatens security?"

Evenson smiled.

"Because that’s the fundamental problem, isn’t it?"

He patted Zola’s monitor.

"Humanity was once content with a simple existence, without the burden of complicated ideas. Then someone introduced this wonderful concept called free will."

His expression became increasingly serious.

"Freedom became an infection. A disease that spreads through society. The moment people begin questioning the world around them, the entire system becomes unstable. The only solution is to remove the source of the infection."

Zola’s camera tilted slightly.

The machine seemed rather pleased with that explanation.

Steve, however, looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Calling freedom a disease is exactly the kind of thing a tyrant would say."

"Is it?"

Evenson gave a quiet chuckle.

"Knowledge brings uncertainty. Once people acquire independent thought, they begin comparing themselves with others. They start questioning their circumstances, measuring their worth against their neighbors, and wondering why someone else has more than they do."

He spread his hands.

"Eventually, they accomplish nothing except making themselves miserable. They resent the world because reality refuses to match their expectations."

His voice remained calm.

"Remove this supposed disease called freedom, and perhaps the world could become a permanent paradise. If people remain ignorant, they can enjoy peaceful lives without constantly questioning everything."

He glanced at Steve.

"And you people who insist on spreading freedom everywhere—how arrogant do you have to be?"

Evenson gestured toward the surrounding facility.

"Take this country, for example. The United States supposedly stands for freedom. So tell me, how safe is the world we’ve built around that principle?"

He continued before anyone could answer.

"People with freedom begin believing they’re smarter than everyone else. They judge others, develop prejudices, and refuse to accept different perspectives. Disagreement becomes hostility. Hostility becomes hatred. Eventually, everyone ends up fighting everyone else."

He gave a theatrical sigh.

"All that remains is an endless cycle of suffering."

Then he turned toward the others.

"Look at people like us. Superheroes. Humanity tolerates the existence of beings like us, even worships us, and then places its security in our hands."

His smile faded.

"Think about what that says about the people we’re supposedly protecting. How desperate must they be, deep down, if they have to rely on extraordinary and fundamentally abnormal individuals to keep them safe?"

He shuddered theatrically.

"It’s practically a vision of the deepest circle of Hell. Just thinking about it gives me chills."

Nobody spoke.

Steve looked completely lost.

He had always regarded freedom as an unquestionable good. He had never seriously considered the possibility that the very thing he fought to protect could also create problems.

Peggy and Natasha were less certain.

The more they thought about Evenson’s argument, the more uncomfortable they became.

There was something disturbingly persuasive about it.

Not because they agreed with his conclusion, but because they could recognize fragments of truth in the reasoning.

No political philosophy was perfect. Freedom had its flaws, just as every other system did.

And once people were free to think independently, they could reach conclusions that were selfish, destructive, or simply wrong.

Even when they recognized an argument as fundamentally dishonest, they might still find themselves considering it.

That was one of the peculiar burdens of independent thought.

Sarah, meanwhile, had a much simpler reaction.

You’re actually listening to a Warlock?

She knew exactly what Evenson was doing.

Twisting words, presenting half-truths, and wrapping questionable conclusions in impressive philosophical language was practically part of a Warlock’s professional training.

There was nothing particularly surprising about it.

Evenson turned back toward Zola.

"So, what do you think?"

He tapped the monitor again.

"That’s HYDRA’s philosophy, isn’t it? Or at least the conclusion you’ve reached after spending all these years processing information through that enormous computer system."

The magnetic tapes began spinning faster.

Zola remained silent for several moments.

"That is... approximately correct."

His voice remained mechanical.

Honestly, our actual reasoning is much simpler.

People surrender their freedom, we gain more convenient control over them, and we establish a new world order.

Perhaps there is a profound philosophical foundation beneath all this. But most of us are old enough to know better than to explain it using such embarrassingly dramatic language.

"That’s unfortunate."

Evenson abruptly changed his expression.

He stepped away from the console and moved to stand beside Steve.

"Because this philosophy has no future when applied to human society."

Zola’s camera shifted toward him.

He had just listened to Evenson describe HYDRA’s ideology in considerable detail, demonstrating a clear understanding of its underlying principles.

Now the same man was rejecting it.

The machine wasn’t angry.

It was confused.

For the moment, the only priority was to understand this unexpected contradiction.

"Why do you believe that?" Zola asked.

"Because I’m considering humanity’s future as a whole."

Evenson leaned against the console.

"If HYDRA truly intends to build a world based on this philosophy, then its ideal leader should be someone like you."

He looked directly into the camera.

"And every official holding a position of authority within HYDRA should be the same."

Zola remained silent.

"You were once human. Now you’ve transcended the limitations of the human body. That should make you particularly qualified to understand what humanity actually is."

Evenson raised one finger.

"Humans are social creatures, certainly. But they can never become a single unified entity. No matter how tightly they cooperate, there will always be barriers between individuals."

He paused.

"The so-called walls between people’s hearts."

His expression became serious.

"Those walls divide humanity into separate individuals. No ideology, no matter how persuasive, and no amount of force can completely destroy them."

"How does that interfere with our objectives?" Zola asked.

His tone remained neutral.

"Human beings are divided, and therefore incapable of genuine unity. Their inability to cooperate creates conflict, which undermines security and order. By having them surrender their freedom and individuality, we can suppress those divisions."

The camera tilted.

"Reducing these barriers would represent a tremendous advancement for humanity as a whole."

Evenson smiled.

"But you’re only asking ordinary people to surrender their freedom, aren’t you?"

Zola didn’t answer.

"What about HYDRA’s leadership? Aren’t they human too? Don’t they have emotions and personal desires?"

Evenson leaned closer.

"Will they surrender their own individuality? Will they willingly submit to the same restrictions? Will they eliminate their personal ambitions and devote themselves entirely to maintaining your perfect order?"

The magnetic tapes continued turning.

Zola said nothing.

He was calculating.

"Your philosophy isn’t particularly original," Evenson continued. "At its core, it’s simply an extreme form of keeping the population ignorant."

He gestured toward the surrounding computers.

"The people are too ignorant to understand right from wrong, so they should stay where they belong. Anything beyond obedience becomes unacceptable. They aren’t allowed to question authority, and eventually, they stop daring to think for themselves."

He shrugged.

"Such a society might appear peaceful and prosperous. But humanity would have no future under those conditions."

His expression turned almost sympathetic.

"Because the same philosophy that keeps the population ignorant eventually makes its rulers ignorant too. The entire system becomes stupid from top to bottom."

He paused.

"In theory, you could create a stable world with no future whatsoever."

Zola’s camera shifted.

"But such a country has never truly existed," he replied.

The computer searched through its extensive historical archives.

"Several civilizations have implemented policies resembling this philosophy. However, none achieved the stability you describe. Even without foreign invasion, rebellion and internal unrest persisted from their founding until their eventual collapse."

Evenson nodded.

"Exactly."

He continued.

"The problem is that policies designed to keep ordinary people ignorant rarely impose equivalent restrictions on kings, nobles, or political elites. In fact, the more thoroughly such a system is implemented, the less oversight the ruling class tends to face."

His voice sharpened.

"Those people are still human. They have the same instincts, desires, and weaknesses as everyone else. Without accountability, they’ll inevitably indulge themselves."

He spread his hands.

"People might not understand morality, but they understand survival. And when their lives are threatened, they’ll fight back."

Evenson looked directly at the camera.

"That reaction is practically guaranteed."

The magnetic tapes began turning again.

Zola was calculating.

Then Evenson said something unexpected.

"I’m fairly well-traveled."

He rested both hands on the console.

"And I happen to know of a species in the universe that actually operates according to the principles you’re describing."

Zola’s camera tilted.

"A species?"

"Yes. A species that hasn’t fallen into stagnation. Quite the opposite, actually. They’ve become powerful enough to terrify entire civilizations."

The mechanical voice remained emotionless, but there was a noticeable urgency in the question.

"What species? How did they achieve this?"

Evenson smiled.

"The Zerg."

He began explaining.

"They aren’t human. They aren’t even mammals. They have no individual freedom or sense of self because those concepts were never part of their existence in the first place."

"Despite possessing extraordinary intelligence, they follow the simplest possible principle: the will of the swarm."

He raised a finger.

"Every member of the species exists to serve the collective. There is only one supreme individual capable of independent thought."

"The Overmind."

Evenson continued.

"The Overmind possesses no meaningful personal desires. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that its desires and those of the entire swarm are one and the same."

He looked at Zola.

"Its objectives are the swarm’s objectives. Its survival is the swarm’s survival."

"The result is a genuinely unified collective. Without the Overmind’s approval, members of the swarm don’t turn against one another. Their internal conflicts are practically nonexistent."

He spread his hands.

"That makes them extraordinarily secure. And because their unity is absolute, they’ve developed their collective strength to an extreme degree."

He paused.

"That’s why so many civilizations fear them."

Zola processed the information.

Evenson leaned forward.

"Now, can humanity accomplish the same thing?"

He pointed toward the monitor.

"Can HYDRA’s leaders become like the Overmind? Can they align their personal desires perfectly with the interests of the entire human race?"

His voice grew colder.

"If they can’t, even the slightest disagreement will corrupt the entire system."

"It might not cause an immediate collapse, but the consequences are inevitable."

He continued.

"Your philosophy begins with the promise of protecting humanity and establishing a perfect new order. But without absolute unity between the rulers and the people, it inevitably degenerates into a tool for satisfying the private ambitions of those in power."

The magnetic tapes began spinning at tremendous speed.

The machines were working harder than ever.

Evenson watched the reels for several seconds.

The temperature in the chamber seemed to be rising.

He frowned.

"Don’t tell me this old machine is trying to cook us alive."

Finally—

Click.

Most of the magnetic tape reels stopped.

Zola spoke.

"Calculation complete."

His camera turned toward the group.

"The corruption of an ideology inevitably leads to the corruption of the system built upon it. Its eventual collapse becomes a matter of time."

He continued in the same flat voice.

"Human resistance is inevitable. This will produce widespread unrest and armed conflict."

A brief pause.

"Humanity may voluntarily surrender its freedom in exchange for security. However, once that freedom has been surrendered, the promised security and stable social order will fail to materialize."

"The resulting disappointment will drive increasing numbers of people into organized resistance."

His voice remained perfectly steady.

"This will produce a conflict exceeding the scale of both World Wars combined."

Another pause.

"Final calculation: the probability of humanity achieving lasting security is zero."

"Following a war of this magnitude, the probability of human civilization surviving is below twenty percent."

Nobody spoke.

Zola continued.

"Additional calculations: If the Insight Program succeeds, HYDRA will be forced to maintain its authoritarian control through increasingly severe restrictions."

"Humanity’s freedom of thought will be eliminated. The ability to question established doctrine will be suppressed. New ideas and alternative methods of thinking will be prohibited."

"Human civilization will enter a state of permanent stagnation. Technological and intellectual development will cease. Regression may occur."

His camera lowered slightly.

"Humanity will lose its future."

A final pause.

"Conclusion: The Insight Program is a complete failure."

Steve stared at the computer.

Then he slowly turned toward Evenson.

How the hell did he do that?

The man had just talked his way into convincing an artificial intelligence that HYDRA’s entire master plan was fundamentally flawed.

Steve knew Evenson was good at manipulating people.

Apparently, computers weren’t immune either.

"Then..." Steve quickly seized the opportunity. "Can you finally tell us what the Insight Program actually is?"

Before Zola could answer, the entrance behind them suddenly opened.

The mechanical voice returned.

"There’s no time."

A warning flashed across the computer screens.

"HYDRA has launched a missile toward this facility. Impact in one minute and twenty seconds."

Zola’s camera slowly lowered.

"You must evacuate immediately."

A final command appeared on the monitor.

"Execute antivirus protocol. Correct the Insight Program."

Then every screen went dark.

The magnetic tapes stopped.

Arnim Zola had shut himself down completely.

Had Zola still been human, perhaps the outcome would have been different.

He might have felt anger at the destruction of HYDRA’s plans. He might have tried to conceal the flaws in the Insight Program, rationalize them, or find some compromise that would allow him to continue serving his organization.

But Zola was no longer human.

His consciousness had been transferred into magnetic tape, and his thought processes had become those of a machine.

He could still manipulate people. He could still construct elaborate plans and perform extraordinarily complex calculations.

But something fundamental had changed.

Human beings were capable of compromise, uncertainty, and contradiction.

They could believe two opposing things at once. They could hesitate, rationalize, and allow emotion to influence their judgment.

Zola had lost much of that complexity.

His calculations produced conclusions.

Success or failure.

Correct or incorrect.

Acceptable or unacceptable.

He no longer experienced human emotions in the same way. Consequently, concepts such as loyalty and betrayal had lost much of their meaning.

He had one overriding objective: establish a new world order based on HYDRA’s principles of absolute security and absolute control.

But when he discovered that the Insight Program, the very mechanism designed to achieve that objective, contained fundamental flaws that would destroy everything it was supposed to protect, his conclusion was inevitable.

The program was defective.

Worse, it was actively harmful to the future of humanity.

In the language of a computer, it was a virus.

And viruses had to be eliminated.

The antivirus protocol had been initiated.

...