Labyrinth of reflections (11 page)

– Hold on.

I'm not smoking myself, but there's always a pack or two of cigarettes at home for

visiting hackers. Smoking is their professional trait. The guy waited by the door patiently while I put the canister on the floor and was searching in the closet.

– Here.

He nodded gratefully opening the pack, I waved my hand-keep it-and closed the door. The carnivores should be fed. A little. So they wouldn't become too impudent and would retain an idea of me being a 'nice guy' even in their alcohol intoxicated minds.

I undressed quickly, threw the clothes on the bed and came to the bathroom, stood under cold shower for a while.

No sleeping tonight, the deep is waiting.

For all day long I tried not to think about Man Without Face and the Medal of Complete Licence lying in the warehouse but now, in the darkness when virtuality was coming close I couldn't help not to think about that.

The Man and the Medal.

The whip and the cookie.

What so strange could happen in "Labyrinth" that even two divers couldn't manage, the professionals who work if anonymously but as permanent contractors nevertheless? Those who know "Labyrinth" as palms of their hands…

Something having no analogies?

Very odd.

I dried myself, threw the towel into the bowl with laundry, returned to the room, turned the computer on and started to pull on the virtual suit.

– Good evening Lenia, – said Vika.

– Hi old girl.

Female face is smiling on the screen. No, possibly I'm wrong, I need to set the different reaction to 'old girl' – slight resentment, pouting, a look cast slightly aside.

– Any mail?

– Seven letters.

– Read.

There was nothing interesting in the mail: invitations to visit two new clubs, price lists of some small trading company, the letter from Maniac sent in the morning…

– Delete everything, – I said sitting by the computer. I plugged the suit in and put on the helmet. – Vika, connect to Deeptown… through the spare channel. Person number seven.

I didn't use this connection for at least three months, as well as the 'person number seven': steel colored suit, black shirt, a necktie, high leather boots, slim agile body, swarthy narrow face, hair long to the shoulders, low and powerful voice.

– Spare channel, person number seven, – confirmed Vika.

The rainbow before my eyes, greedy flaming of the fiery wave, the deep.

I'm sitting in the tiny room: the bed, the table with the computer on it, not mine but absolutely abstract one, the door. "Journey Start" Hotel. Those Deeptown inhabitants who just occasionally visit the Deep rent rooms here for cheap.

– Is everything okay, Lenia?

– Yes.

I open the door and leave. There's the long corridor with doors outside, by one of those stands Sylvester Stallone looking at his hands with admiration.

– Hi Sly, – I say passing by. Almost for sure the guy is Russian, and what's definitely-he's a newbie.

– Do I really look like him? – asks the guy with hope.

– Yeah… – I stop. The beer makes my mood benevolent, – Are you new in the deep?

– In what? Ah yes.. new.

– It's a bad form to put on appearances of famous people, and also the sign of newbie. Try to construct your own personality… use 'Bioconstructor' for instance and work a little.

– 'Bioconstructor'? – asks the guy confused.

– Yes. A very simple program with Russian interface, it is scattered around on all servers in the novice directories.

– Thanks… – 'Stallone' drags himself along behind me. I notice that he started to stoop as if being ashamed of his appearance: a good sign.

We enter elevator together and descend to the first floor. The lobby is pretty spacious, four porters and two guards are always watching there.

– Come to any of them, – I advise, – And ask for consultation: where to go for the start, how to act…

– It's embarrassing…

– It's embarrassing to be a fool. These guys are here just for that: to help you. When in the streets ask for advice the people with an open hand sign on the sleeve, they are volunteer helpers, or policemen. Have you set your timer?

– Yes, sure! For two hours!

– Very good. Spend 15 minutes to talk to the porter and you'll save much more. Happy sailing!

– Happy sailing! – says admired novice behind me. It's so nice to be an old-timer…

I wink to the porter and nod towards 'Stallone' in case he'll be too shy to ask for help himself and leave the hotel. I raise my hand and the cab stops immediately: this is not reality…

– Deep-Transit is glad to welcome you, Gunslinger! – says the driver.

– To "Labyrinth of Death", administrative building, – I reply.

There exist the games and The Games.

The difference is in longevity.

Computer industry releases up to 1000 games every year, both intended for the Deep and for ordinary users.

The game usually 'lives' actively for around half a year. It is distributed legally and through the pirate channels, is being discussed, all its intended and random tricks are being caught. And then it dies… kept only by a couple of hundreds of fans.

Sometimes exceptions happen – and then the game lives for years. Many new, much more perfect and beautiful games appear but the old one retains crowds of fans too.

And there are three exceptions that are alive since the pre-virtual

era: 'Doom', 'C&C' and 'Mortal Combat'. They have changed dozens of times of course but these were more cosmetics than real changes.

'C&C' is a strategic game, it's virtual space is the whole planet. On this humble target range those never-to-be Napoleons and Zhukovs eternally fight for the world's dominance commanding nonexistent armies in imaginary headquarters. Tank tracks are rattling there and missiles fly up to the skies, new terrible weapons are being developed, world's capitals are being burned to ashes by nuclear explosions. One doesn't need to be quick or keen in this game, strategic thinking is most important. They say that the Military watches this game very attentively and sometimes successful players get offers to join the army. Some people seem scared by that, the others are attracted on the contrary. I have played these 'adult tin soldiers' a little. In my opinion the game is harmless and quiet. Dressed in a beautiful uniform, you walk with a cup of coffee back and forth in the headquarters crowded with trained aides and say : 'Ummm.. what if we drop an H-bomb at Los Angeles?'

The game have changed a little last year, now one has to start it as a lieutenant being in command of a small regiment in tactic battles, submitting to somebody else's orders and to rise slowly up the hierarchy until he reaches the rank of the Chief Commander of his country. Now there's a possibility of coups, betrayal, guerilla war 'against everybody'… I don't know, the game have become more interesting possibly, but I liked the previous rules more.

'Mortal Combat' is even simpler. This is a scuffle in virtual space. One might put on one of hundreds of ready-to-use guises or build his own and to take part in a multiple day tournament for the right to fight the main villain that plots to conquer the Earth. This is the useful game, nowhere else can one steam out his sick emotions like on the gloomy arenas of 'Mortal Combat', hitting his enemy with the heel on his forehead of thrusting magic spells onto him. Good game, I visit it once or twice a month but some people never quit the duels. They say that if one doesn't abuse magic which unfortunately is not available in reality, it is possible to learn to fight pretty well. I doubt it though: the hit that one feels with the help of virtual suit is one thing but the real steel reinforcement that you'll be hit with in the street is absolutely different.

And of course there's 'Doom', that very game getting into which had ushered the beginning of the virtual era.

It's main area is called simply "Labyrinth of Death". This really is a labyrinth: 50 levels, some of them located in buildings and underground vaults, others-on the streets of the Twilight City, an imaginary megapolis captured by an alien civilization. It's the Deep within a Deep with its own laws and rules.

The game starts at the first level – the half ruined railway station where the player arrives by the section car, with a single gun as a weapon. The station building is crowded with monsters – former Twilight City inhabitants, and other players. It's difficult to say who is more dangerous: monsters are armed better but the players are smarter than machines obviously. One can find weapons, defense gear, first-aid sets and food in the station building. When one leaves the first level, he gets to the second one: the highway full of abandoned cars… and of course, of other players and monsters. In order to win one must reach the 50th level, the ancient cathedral in the downtown and to destroy the alien ruler. It's very hard. I did it before but since then "Labyrinth" have changed at least ten times: new buildings, weapons and monsters were added. And of course, new players have arrived: game addicts who can't imagine their lives without shooting on the streets of Twilight City.

It's an interesting game, mainly because it requires constant communication with other people, not just 'fighting to death' like in

'Mortal Combat', not diplomatic notes and threats exchange like in 'C&C' but direct communication: making unions, convincing others, some small worldly wisdoms…

But just what so unusual could happen in the "Labyrinth"'s space?

"Labyrinth"'s administrative building is a two story house in Deeptown's suburbs, faced with rose colored coquina. It looks peacefully and neat, more like a residential building than an office. Maybe American middle class families use to live in houses like this. Labyrinth entrance is a bit further and obviously it looks much more impressive. I stand in the garden and examine the guard by the entrance. He's dressed into masking overalls, the standard players' uniform, with carbine in his hands. His muzzle has absolutely 'impenetrable' expression, he stands motionless like a statue. Is he a human or not? It's foolish to ask, at least because one can't distinguish well made program from a human at once. I pass the guard and find myself in a small hall. The bright sunlight beams through windows, small tables and soft armchairs stand along the walls. More solid table is in the center of the hall, a smiling girl sits by it: the secretary and most likely live one.

– Good afternoon, – I say.

The secretary's face changes a little.

– Good afternoon, – she replies. The voice is soft and nice, looks like I was switched to Russian employee.

– I need to meet with the management, – I begin without ceremonies.

– Please be more specific if possible.

The girl is the courtesy itself but it's not easier to break through her barrier than through the monster by Al-Kabar's bridge.

– I have a confidential information for "Labyrinth"'s management.

– But still I'd like you to state the goal of your visit briefly.

Ah well…

– I'd like to relay to Mr Guillermo Aguirre that I'm informed about the small problem that have arisen recently and about the fact that divers cooperating with you had failed to solve it. I'm going to offer my services in solving this problem.

The secretary nods.

– One moment please.

She stands up without a hurry and enters one of the inner doors. I wait patiently. Everything is very cute and patriarchal: no computers, no monsters. It's not the office of the most expensive and dreadful ride in the history but a small toilet paper sales firm.

The girl is away for long, I get tired of standing and sit into one of armchairs, browse through newspapers scattered on the nearby table. It's quiet and peaceful, no other visitors except me, though they in fact are present most likely. We just can't see each other and they communicate with other company's employees.

– Mister…

– Gunslinger, – I say standing up. – Call me Gunslinger.

The girl nods.

– Mr Guillermo Aguirre will receive you.

Slight curiosity in her voice, it looks like she had no idea that any problems might arise in "Labyrinth".

I enter the door and freeze.

This is beautiful.

The hall is in the form of unequal sided triangle, one wall is completely transparent and one can see the city from the big height, lighted by red sunset light. Not Deeptown but Twilight City most likely. The table of "Labyrinth"'s security manager, Mr Guillermo is horseshoe-shaped, three monitors are installed on it, a keyboard and nothing else. Mr Guillermo himself already rises to meet me, he's aged, lean, very suntanned, dressed in blinders and T-shirt.

– Hello, – he says stretching his hand to me first. – So you are the Gunslinger, yes? Call me just Willy.

Okay, let it be Willy.

I shake his hand.

– You said so interesting things, yes? About problems, divers, help…

– Willy laughs and waves his hands, – Boom! Boom! That help?

Very interesting interpreter program, the strong accent, parasite words like Guillermo speaks Russian himself. One starts feel different towards the guy immediately.

– Let's be honest, okay? – I offer. Willy-Guillermo knits his brow and nods. – I'm diver.

– Yes?– inquires Willy politely – And what is that?

I smile in return and say:

– I think that your Ukranian and Canadian employees would explain that to you quicker. I mean the divers working on permanent contract with you.

Willy looks at me silently for a long time, then nods:

– I thought that Anatol is Russian. He's Ukranian?

Yeah, Man Without Face is informed much better than "Labyrinth"'s security manager.

– These are just details.