What exactly was Zima-12?
To the general public, it was nothing more than a rumored Soviet research facility somewhere in the Northern Belt. Most citizens only speculated about its existence, whispering outlandish theories on underground nets.
Some claimed it was a bunker filled with eldritch experiments. Others insisted it was a prison worse than any German concentration camp. There were even conspiracy boards insisting Zima-12 housed temporal anomalies or dormant superweapons left from previous wars.
All of it made for entertaining gossip.
But to those who actually knew, Zima-12 was far more than a classified research site.
It was the beating heart of the Soviet Union’s most guarded projects. A place where the boundaries between science, geopolitics, warfare, and ethics are mixed into one indistinguishable mass.
Entire fields of study that were banned, regulated, or heavily restricted in the rest of the world were conducted freely inside its walls.
Zima-12 was not a laboratory.
It was the frontier.
The Northern Belt housed twelve primary research sectors. Eleven of them were publicly acknowledged, though still classified. Zima-12 was the final and unspoken one, the crown jewel, built over a foundation of secrecy that stretched back generations.
Only a handful of the USSR’s highest officials had unrestricted access. Even researchers assigned to the Northern Belt often lived their entire careers without ever glimpsing the true scope of Zima-12.
More importantly, Zima-12 was not simply a research facility because it did not operate solely under the Ministry of Science.
It was a joint structure overseen by multiple branches, the Special Warfare Command, Internal Bureau, the Soviet Intelligence Directorate, and, on rare occasions, the Council of Premier Commissars. Each department contributed something.
The facility itself had grown into a closed ecosystem, developing its own culture, hierarchy, and internal politics. And worst of all, the rumors were not wrong about everything.
Some of the darkest stories carried grains of truth.
Zima-12 was where the USSR placed the things it could never afford to share.
But the most peculiar thing that Julius wanted to find out.
[2158]
[Zima-12 Officially Shuts Down Following Catastrophic Power Plant Explosion
By: The Novaya Pravda International Desk | 18 March 2163
In 2158, the Soviet Research Directorate released an official statement announcing the complete shutdown of Zima-12. According to them, the decision followed a "critical mechanical failure" inside the auxiliary power plant, which triggered a chain reaction that disabled multiple safety systems and caused extensive structural damage within the complex.
The Directorate concluded its statement by declaring that Zima-12 will remain closed indefinitely.
And Julius was certain every line of it was a lie.
"...."
He stared at the date, 2158, and felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. That was the exact same year the Triplet Tower incident occurred. If Zima-12 had closed its doors during that period, then Joachim Pascal Beißwenger would undoubtedly have been connected to the entire incident.
After another month, the final stage of processing had been completed. All identity verifications, background screenings, cross-border documentation reviews, and institution-to-institution confirmations had passed without raising a single flag.
The Soviet bureaucracy was notoriously slow, and even with Julius pushing the limits of what could be expedited, the entire procedure still consumed nearly six full months.
Six months of playing the role of Dimitri Ilya Mikhailov.
Six months of maintaining spotless records.
Six months of immersing himself into a life he had fabricated from the ground up.
Now, at long last, every approval had gone through. The official notice arrived in his inbox that morning. He was fully cleared for deployment to the Northern Belt, assigned directly under Professor Konstantin Lev Artyomov.
It had taken nearly half a year for Julius to reach this point. But this was the closest he had been to Zima-12.
And the closest he had been to Joachim Pascal Beißwenger.
At least, close in the technical sense. The real man would not be walking around under his own name.
Unlike Julius, who had constructed the identity of Dimitri Ilya Mikhailov only months ago, Joachim’s false life had been embedded in the USSR long before this moment.
This was not Joachim’s first rodeo, and he was not improvising the way Julius was. According to Emil, Joachim had already slipped into the Soviet system many times before.
The moment Julius stepped inside the facility for the first time, nothing greeted him. Not a single researcher lifted their head or spared him even a passing glance.
Everyone remained absorbed in their own terminals and data stacks, moving without a shred of interest in the newcomer.
It was a complete contrast to the previous team he had worked with, where colleagues always exchanged greetings and functioned like an organized corporate machine.
Julius adjusted the strap of his bag and continued walking through the cold corridor. The sliding doors opened one after another, each revealing rows of scientists.
Konstantin Lev Artyomov stood by the central console. When Julius entered the office, Konstantin finally looked up from the floating holograms and acknowledged him with a nod.
"Ah, you are finally here. Take a seat, Professor Mikhailov."
It was the first greeting he received inside Zima-12. The moment Konstantin addressed him, every researcher in the room finally turned his way.
——Ah, is that him?"
——Poor guy. To work under Professor Artyomov... what kind of sins did he commit in his previous life?
But their words were anything but pleasant.
Julius approached the desk and took a seat. Konstantin shifted a few holographic layers aside so they would not block his view of Julius.
"Welcome to Zima-12. You will shadow me directly for the first phase. Later, you will be assigned independent modules. Your access level will be increased accordingly, but as of now, you will only operate under my clearance."
"That is acceptable."
Konstantin folded his hands together. "Good. Then our work begins immediately. I have something to show you."
He rose from his seat. Julius stood as well. Konstantin did not look back to check if Julius was following. He simply walked out of the office with the expectation that Julius would keep up, and Julius did exactly that.
When they approached a reinforced steel door at the far end of the corridor, Konstantin slowed his steps. He stopped directly in front of it and turned to Julius with a level gaze.
"I am sure you have heard the rumors," he said. "Since you will be working here, I will not sugarcoat anything. This area is classified as unrestricted access. You are not permitted to enter under any circumstances. If you make a mistake and step inside, even by accident, you will be grounds for immediate sanctions."
"...."
Julius looked at the blank metal. There was no label on it and not even an access panel. Just a door that existed without context, which made it all the more peculiar.
"You are free to imagine what lies beyond that door. Most new staff do. But do not question the colleagues who come out of it. Do not stare at them. Do not ask them about their department. Do not ask about their assignments."
"Understood."
Konstantin resumed walking. "Good. Curiosity has ruined far more promising researchers than incompetence ever has. In Zima-12, the line between what is permissible and what is forbidden is very thin. Learn where that line is."
From inside, muffled screams echoed, but Julius did not question it, as if he had heard nothing at all.
’Human experiments?’
That was the only conclusion he could draw in his head.
If that were the case, then it wasn’t any different from German concentration camps.
* * *
"How was it, Dimitri, working under my father?"
Julius had only just managed to slip away for a short break when he heard her voice. Yuliya appeared at his side, offering him a canned drink with a smile.
The first thing he noticed was the ID badge hanging from her coat. Unlike Julius, she did not work directly under her father. That alone was already a privilege she seemed grateful for.
Julius took the can from her and nodded once. "Thank you."
Yuliya leaned against the vending machine. "So? How did it go? Did he terrify you yet? I heard most people last ten minutes before wanting to quit."
Julius cracked open the can and took a small sip. "It was productive."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the most accurate one."
Yuliya groaned and looked toward the corridor where her father’s department branch was located.
"I knew it. He already put you through the grinder," she said. "You have no idea how relieved I am that I don’t work under him. I would never hear the end of it at home."
"He is... demanding, but that is expected. Zima-12 is not an ordinary facility."
"That’s an understatement," she muttered. "Father sets impossible standards. I’ve heard most researchers burn out within a month. You should see the turnover rate in his division. It’s practically a revolving door."
"...I don’t think that’s a way to speak about your own father."
"I’m speaking like this because he is my father."
Yuliya sighed and rested her back against the vending machine. Her voice softened a little, but the irritation in her tone remained.
"By the way, Dimitri, aren’t you curious?"
He glanced at her. "About what?"
"You know..."
She tilted her head slightly, gesturing toward the reinforced door down the hall.
"It’d be a lie to say I’m not," he said. "But curiosity alone isn’t worth losing my job. Or my head."
A knowing smile curved Yuliya’s lips. "I can tell you."
"...."
"I work there."
Julius looked at her more carefully. Yuliya had begun her assignment inside Zima-12 a month earlier than he had, though her father did not oversee that wing directly.
Technically, she belonged to the Genetics and Applied Neural Sciences division, which answered only to the Deputy Director, but her placement still granted her clearance that far exceeded his own.
She took a sip of her drink and leaned forward slightly. "I can tell you what’s inside. What we actually do. The real work the USSR never discloses."
"Miss Artyomov..."
"Only..." she emphasized. "If you grant me a wish. So, are you curious, Dimitri?"
Humans were curious creatures. Even the near-perfect machine known as Dimitri Ilya Mikhailov was not exempt from that. Yuliya understood this better than anyone.
Curiosity was the greatest quality of a researcher. It was the spark that made a person keep digging when everyone else walked away. It was the flaw that led geniuses to ruin themselves in their pursuit of mysteries.
It was also the weakness she knew Dimitri had, and she played it with confidence.
"If it is within my capabilities..."
"Great." Yuliya brightened as if she had been waiting for him to say those exact words. "Then, are you free this Saturday?"
"I have a modular data review queued. There is also a systems calibration session I am supposed to attend. And after that, I planned to reorganize the project logs I inherited from Professor Artyomov’s previous assistant. I also intended to run diagnostics on—"
"...."
Yuliya’s lips slowly curved downward.
Her shoulders lowered. She even poked the side of her can with one finger, as if she had just been told her favorite show was being cancelled. The disappointment was quite a pitiful sight.
He stared at her for a moment.
"...I can clear my schedule," he said.
Yuliya’s head snapped up. Her eyes lit up like someone had just flipped a switch inside her.
"Really?"
"Yes," he replied. "I can make time."
It was a date.