Forward to Marvel Cinematic Universe

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***

One week later. London.

* * *

The atmosphere of the old city hadn't gone away. Except the English were annoying. Really. Even their faces were different, the kind you don't see even on Xandar - they were strange, the English. And a lot of blacks - Hindus, blacks, women in black hoods, who smelled of fanaticism towards something. I didn't even realise what it was.

I was standing on the Thames Embankment eating ice-cream. Talking to Bersey in my head, looking at the people passing by:

- "You know, we should get on with our business.

- What are we going to do? You're going to build a business?

- That's right. Only to use stolen funds as the authorised capital is kind of scary....

- Don't worry. I've studied the local banking systems and how to hack into them. I guarantee you that by all accounts my activities are completely clean.

- So be it, I leaned on the parapet. The English looked at me like a freak - it's February, it's minus four, and I'm eating ice cream... The English are wrapped up in their thin jackets, shivering from the cold. What about me? I'm not superman, I'm Russian.

- I remind you that I have the maximum number of modules connected to me. In order to conduct business, you must use one more iskine.

- Yes, yes, - I wondered, - how many units do we have left?

- Nine. Nine iskines. In time, I think you'll use them all.

- Good. Listen, can the seeker negotiate by phone and Skype? I don't want to deal with the hassle of the day-to-day, and I'm not good at business.

- Important negotiations have to be done in person, though. And yes, of course, the seeker can run the enterprise. As a rule, in the Empire, almost all the duties of the head of a large enterprise were performed by the seeker, leaving only creative activity to the managers.

This situation suited me much better. Low clouds hung over London. Frosted light. Absolutely unpleasant weather - no sunshine, no blue sky overhead... boring. I discarded the popsicle stick and moved towards the taxi rank, luckily there were plenty of taxis in central London.

- Let's get started, then.

- I started this a week ago. What shall we call our organisation?

* * *

The first organisational question was settled. The first of many. Since there was no Assassin's Creed game in this reality, I was happy to name the organisation after a similar one in my reality, I even took the logo. Why - much more stylish than most organisations, short and simple, just a triangle of three segments.

I flew from London to the moon and from the moon to New York. Because I'm an American citizen, I'm going to register an organisation in the States. And what the organisation would do... that's another question. Theoretically, what could I do? A lot of things.

Here I sat down to think about it, the seeker was no help to me in such matters - he had a lot of things to do, and the way of thinking is ultimativ-masculine, i.e. logic prevails. And here is a purely creative question. Here's what I can do to make money and reputation? The cheapest resource I have is computing power and energy. I had plenty of those.

I also had high-capacity ionisers, which would allow me to develop electric cars and electric transport in general. Electric transport... but that meant enmity with the Americans, because their world is based on oil. Even specially to dumb people produce films, like "Mad Max", where they actively promote the main propaganda stamp - without oil there is no life. And the fact that almost all electricity on earth is produced at thermal power plants, nuclear power plants and hydroelectric power plants, i.e. at the expense of coal, atoms or falling water - they tactfully keep silent, hammering into people's heads the idea that oil dependence is the norm.

Of course, Max was sponsored by the world's biggest businessmen. But what if you drive a wedge with a wedge? What if you made a film about the benefits of non-oil technology? Like a dystopia about how burning oil has killed the planet's ecology? And people fought over the leftover oil, including nuclear warfare. And in the end, the post-apocalyptic world is built on non-oil technologies?

We can, we must! OK, it's decided - I'm going to work on environmentally friendly electric transport and at the same time - invest in a film about the evils of oil. I can imagine how all the oil kings in power will be furious, but am I the best saboteur in the galaxy for nothing? In six months, all their secrets will be on wikileaks.

Environmentally friendly transport should, again, start with the types of public electric transport we already know - trams and trolleybuses. The only difference is that it is desirable to use them together with my reactors.

* * *

Sitting on the moon base, I've been looking through the tram and trolleybus catalogues. Monorail and theoretically electric aeroplanes and electric locomotives of traditional railways also belonged to public electric transport. With certain technical capabilities, this is a very profitable business. After all, on Xandar, especially in the colonies, electric locomotives were used as cheap, free public transport. They used to be everywhere, but then they were squeezed out to the outlying colonies. You could take Xandar technology as the basis for the design, reworking it slightly to suit new realities and less computing power.

And then there's another area, which is electronics. The most money-making area, the biggest payoff. The main thing is to patent all the key technologies and set up production of their electronics on Earth's technical base...

- Bersie, check out the electronics option. Tell me, what are the prospects?

- Very good. At the moment, the electronics market on Earth is not yet established. It's quite possible to break in and win the competition.

- That's good. Think if we orientate our company as a consumer electronics company - laptops, tablets, smartphones, what else?

- Stationary workstations.

- That's right. Stationary. Tell me, if that's what we're targeting, how much is it going to cost us?

- About $50 million.

* * *

Three days later.

* * *

Okay, here we go. We are the American corporation Abstergo, which produces electronics - computers and tablets, smartphones. I'm busy making the first prototype, the image of which will be used to build our electronics. Our competitors, Apple, are still a step behind. Bersi has produced a ready-made processor, about twice as powerful as the one installed in Apple's latest tablet. Just in case, we're making an Android device. It's good when all the programmers are replaced by one single Bersi, who can write such a simple programme code for him in a minute.

What was our competitive advantage? Bright, non-glare display technology, a thirty-two megapixel camera with a high-quality lens, an ioniser battery that was far more efficient than Apple's gadgets. The gimmick was precisely that Apple couldn't physically replicate my ionistor - I used galactic metals, which are too rare for earth.

The slim, stylish black case. The display withstood a hammer blow or a five metre drop. The waterproofing is such that you can shoot underwater videos without additional protection.

However, Bersey reckoned the target audience was dumb people. Simply put, dumb people. If they bought Apple's "new products", which update the model range, only that this very ponty bull would buy ... and not a single buyer asked the question - why a smartphone with 64 gigabytes of memory, twice as expensive as a smartphone with 8 gigabytes ... memory - a flash drive, costs pennies. Ten dollars, and the rest of the price is a markup for bullshit. And it worked! It worked, and people started buying it. And they were not embarrassed by tracking programmes from the CIA, and a non-removable battery - so that firstly - it was impossible to extend the life of the smartphone, and secondly - to deactivate it completely. So that Uncle Sam could listen to their conversation even when the gadget is "off".

It's useless to explain to this crowd that it's cheaper to pay for my smartphone and use it for ten years without grief - they need to show off to each other. That's why Bersi advised to change the sales policy. Firstly, to target the masses, i.e. idiots. To exploit their basest desires - to show off, to show off a new, expensive toy. That's why I removed everything from the prototype except the camera, reduced the processor power, reduced the battery capacity. The result was a smartphone that was noticeably better than Apple's - on top of that, I made it bendable and the battery was non-removable. And it was charged only from a specific charger, no "USB charging".

After designing the smartphone, which took about a day, the questions about production started.

- Hyarty, I'm telling you, it's cheaper to use industrial robots.

- What's wrong with the Chinese? - I wondered.

- They need wages. And your reactors, plus my control, make a perfect assembly factory.

- But really..." I wondered, "how many of these smarts can we produce in our factory?

- You mean the equipment we brought with us? About 200 a day. However, I'll point out that an automatic line by itself is unprofitable - it's much better to build a multifunctional flexible production line.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bersey was right. The process chain can change in the process.

* * *

Russia was chosen as the location for the factory. Ekaterinburg to be exact. There are several reasons for this - firstly, it will be difficult for American businessmen to reach me there. The sanctions do not apply to American companies, which means that I will be able to continue my business relatively cheaply and safely. The Russians are unlikely to give up high-tech production on their territory.

* * *

That's how it worked out. I didn't have to negotiate with federal officials - I flew straight to Ekaterinburg. It was an unknown town to me, except that it was located somewhere in the Urals. And here it was easier. The thievery of officials did its job - the mayor of Ekaterinburg was happy to accept the idea of an American businessman to build in his region the production of computers and other high-tech things. The mayor was a fat man with running eyes and a carefully camouflaged bald spot. The negotiations with him were very short - I only promised that the rent to the city budget would be decent. He almost pissed himself with joy and immediately allocated me a territory - a huge wasteland to the east of the city. For him I gave five hundred thousand dollars a year ... according to the documents. The accompanying documents - from the registration authorities, from the surveying centre, and so on, were produced in three days. I was just preparing and buying equipment. It was unprofitable to produce electronics using conventional methods - new approaches were needed. For example - the method of synthesising graphene wafers instead of sawing silicon - it's much cheaper.

* * * *

- Bersie, what about this, what's his name... Rogers? - I asked the seeker.

- Steve Rogers? Missing in action on his last mission to the North Pole.

- So he's in the middle of nowhere... a serum sample. Look, can we find him?

- Theoretically, yes. The coordinates of his flight from Germany to America can be calculated and scanned. Do you want me to do it?

- Preferably.

- We'd have to bring up LC310. It's the only one with scanners.

- You're welcome. Just don't let them see you," I said.

I was sitting in my office, on the moon. On the table in front of me was a folder with newspapers, a mug of hot tea in my hands... beauty. The moon base had been completely rebuilt. It really is a base - everything was here to accommodate a large number of people, hundreds. Back at the moon base, I gave myself some rest. I walked around the base, played with the equipment, rode around the moon on the lunar howler, visited the compartment with computers LK310. The "Director" ISKIN got to work - it was he who was in charge of building the plant. It watched from above, from the reconnaissance satellite we'd released, as well as working through several drones on the ground. Simple flying quadrocopters that watched the construction site tirelessly. The director had already carried out a bunch of layoffs - employees who started kicking arse and slacking off were warned for the first and last time. The diligence was enough for a short time - a few days they worked as they should, and then again - they would turn up drunk at work, or even go to hell during working hours... Almost all the hired construction workers went away, only a few engineers and ex-military men remained - the most disciplined ones. The director even raised their wages.

The factory building had six floors - the production of parts requiring tightness took place in special closed chambers, by robots, and from the outside... from the outside the building was ordinary, built by monolithic technology - a frame of concrete. It is convenient when a manager - literally, can be in many places at the same time. The director simultaneously monitored the consumption of materials, ordered new ones, submitted through couriers documentation to the registration authorities and bought equipment that was unprofitable to replace ours. The director was also in charge of licensing our products - since they did not contain any extraterrestrial materials and all technologies were already patented - there were no problems with this. It's probably not superfluous to mention the factory's security system - from high walls to thoroughly checking everyone entering on a fingerprint and retina scanner. Weapons are banned in Russia - too much hassle, and a pity. I would also arm the guards to the teeth, so that no one would want to show off.

So far, I've stayed out of the Director's business - he quickly got the hang of things and immediately started a flurry of activity. He spoke almost non-stop on Skype - in all languages and with all possible partners. For example, titanium and aluminium were imported locally, and the plant had an electric furnace where melting, alloying, casting and all subsequent processing stages took place. I did not change the titanium alloy case for plastic - plastic is much more problematic. And mechanical strength is not an empty sound.

* * *

Ice field, miles of ice. Yeah, it's a hell of a place. I looked around, my armour made me look like a black sheep in the middle of the ice. Or, rather, like a black crow... ah, I'm confused! I stood out, anyway. Next to me was a shuttlecraft from the moon base. On it I went down to the right place, where Bersie, to my surprise, found an anomaly. Metal at a depth of seventeen metres, in ice. We landed ten metres from the anomaly.

- I reckon it's down there.

- Let's have a look,' I pointed my glove at the ice, but Bercy stopped me:

- No, this could be the cause of the ice collapse. It is necessary to melt the block carefully.....

That's it? Okay...

- Can you de-force the turbolaser to minimum?

- It's no use.

- Shit, what do we do? - I wondered.

Bersi came up with the idea - he suggested using mechanical damage to the ice. To be exact - to cut it with my swords, ice is a very hard substance, so the vibrocline enters it like butter, creating around itself a crumb of ice flakes. All right, here we go!

I drew my swords and plunged them into the ice - they went right through. The ice cut like butter. I cut the ice in big chunks. In an hour of work Bersie had to call more droids from the moon and give them vibroblades - it went faster. The angular ice flakes that were left after cutting were thrown out.

* * *

Boring. We've already cut a deep shaft and no results! Just when I thought about it, though, the blade started to go harder.

- What is it? - I asked the seeker.

- Metal. Congratulations, Captain, you have successfully descended.

I stepped aside, and with a measured stroke, I carved myself a hatch with four strokes. He went down. I jumped down next, braking myself slightly with the engines. There was a piece of aircraft skin lying on the floor, with ice frozen on it. I switched to night vision mode. Yeah, what a situation. There's steel beams all over the place, crossbars.

- Maybe it's a submarine.

- No, you see these beams? - Bersih pointed to a metal beam. They've got holes in them. That's to lighten the structure, and they don't do that in submarines or ships. And judging by its size, this plane is much bigger than the World War II machines.

There was a metal floor underfoot. Everything around me was covered in frost. I moved to one side, putting my sword away in subspace and looking around. Some sort of electrical toggle switches and switches, signs in German, in familiar Gothic script. Bercy was looking through the suit, too. We reached the end - here the metal had been torn away and only ice was visible.

- Holy shit," was all I said, "let's go the other way.

- I'm just an observer. Yeah, judging by the narrowing of the fuselage, this was the rear end.

The return journey brought us the find we were looking for. Cockpit, in the cockpit, was what appeared to be a live person. Fantastic! He's alive! Steven sat gripping the steering wheel, crouched down and covered by his shield. A shield, by the way, made of a rather strong metal that I wasn't familiar with. But back to Steven - too bad he didn't have a climate-controlled suit like mine. I froze, but my heart was beating slow-slow-slow. Body temperature, ten degrees centigrade. Phenomenal survivability!

- Bersey? - I asked, "Are you seeing this too?

- I'm shocked. Let's take him back to base. I want to see what's in his blood.