“What do you mean?”
“You heard. You too had to pay for the training. They’re on the lookout for promising lads and bring them into the League, or so they call it. If you win a season, they’ll whisk you off to Moscow or somewhere. From what I heard, they took some guy to Grozny: they like the illegal fight scene over there. And if you prove yourself at this level, they'll set you up with an agent. That's where the money gets serious. None of our group has ever managed to make it. They’re more likely to have their brains punched out and seen off with a handicapped allowance.”
“Why won’t they make the tournament free, then?” I asked, sincerely surprised. “The more people that sign up, the more choice they’d have, wouldn’t they?”
“Phil, how am I supposed to know? I’ve had no part in their schemes. Let me just tell you that Matov really wanted me to join but I have no one to leave this little button with,” he turned and took a long look at the girl, “if anything ever happens to me.”
He slowed down to a walk, put his feet together and reached down to touch his toes.
In the meantime, I opened my interface and made a few mental commands. Kostya’s profile unfolded in front of me. This time it contained much more information than I normally saw. That’s level-3 Insight for you!
Konstantin “Kostya” Bekhterev
Age: 21
Current status: Web Programmer
Social status level: 6
Class: Boxer. Level: 8
Unmarried.
Children: none
Main characteristics:
Strength: 11/24
Aguility: 14/25
Intellect: 10/17
Stamina: 19/37
Perception: 15/15
Charisma: 6/19
Luck: 7/12
Secondary characteristics:
Vitality: 98%
Satisfaction: 73%
Vigor: 91%
Metabolism: 118%
Confidence: 88%
Self-Control: 99%
Spirit: 164%
Mood: 85%
Main skills and abilities:
Boxing: 8/14
Responsibility: 7/15
Self-Discipline: 7/12
PHP Programming: 6/11
So! Now I could see not only his full profile but also the maximum extent of the stat points he could earn. And what did that mean? It meant that now I could advise my clients on their potential development.
I couldn’t wait to see my own possibilities but decided to give it a miss for the time being. I might need to look into it first.
I remembered Martha’s request and scrolled through Kostya’s ability list, searching for Tutoring. I found it halfway through the list:
Tutoring: 5/11
Not bad. Having to raise his sister must have had something to do with it. And he had a lot to grow still, seeing as he was still level 5. So how could I help him?
I opened the map and run a quick search for any potential employment for him, concentrating on improving his working conditions and pay. Then I checked his profile again. He had the potential to reach level 14 in Boxing which was really a lot. Overall, he was very well-developed for his age.
“Phil, what are you hanging around for?” Kostya called out. “Are we done?”
“Wait a sec,” I said. “We haven’t finished talking yet. Hey listen, where are your parents? Don’t you have any relatives?”
He scowled. “Why the hell would you want to know? I’m training you, ain’t I? What else do you want?”
“Sorry, it’s none of my business. I just wanted to offer you something.”
“Like what?” he laughed. “Babysitter’s services? I’m doing okay as it is.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I sat down on the rubbery surface of the track, spread my legs and touched my toes. “Are you happy with your current job?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? They pay me on time. Suits me down to the ground.”
“Look, there’s a vacancy in a company who’re looking for somebody like you. There’s a high probability they might hire you.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
“Even during the trial period they pay sixty grand[47]. Try it! You’ve only just said you don’t earn enough.”
“Where is it?” he froze, looking at me closely.
“It’s a studio specializing in mid-range corporate sites. I can give you their number. Just call them and find out.”
“So what do I say?”
No matter how responsible and disciplined he was, his childishness was starting to grate on my nerves. Why should I have to talk him into another job where he might get paid twice as much for the same work?
“Listen, it’s not as if you’re stupid,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll work out what to tell them. Just say you’re a PHP code writer and you’re calling them about the vacancy. I’ll text you their number.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go,” he rose and brushed the bits of rubber off his track bottoms. “Julie’s already waving to us, look!”
“Come on, then,” I rose too. Together we leisurely walked over to Julie. “And let’s do one more thing. I’ll pay your entry fee for the tourna-”
“No,” he cut me short.
“Wait, listen! Why not?”
“I don’t need charity. Is that clear?” he stepped closer and glared at me, flaring his nostrils.
I promptly received a new system message informing me of a drop in my Reputation with him.
“Whoa whoa whoa! Wait up! What charity are you talking about?” I said, changing tactics. “What’s all that about? This is a business proposal!”
“What kind of business?” he squinted at me. “I just can’t work you out, Phil.”
“Listen up. The entry fee is ten grand. I can pay it, no problem. This isn’t a loan or charity, man, you listen to me! Once you win, you pay me ten percent. If you lose, you pay it back after Julie is cured. So? What do you think? Or are you already shitting yourself that they might carry you out feet first?”
“What?” he bellowed. “Me?”
“Yes, you. So I suggest you stuff your pride where the sun don’t shine and go fight for your sister. Will the prize money be enough for the surgery?”
“Eh... well,” he paused, making mental calculations. “Together with what I’ve already saved, it should be enough.”
“That’s settled, then. Get your stuff and let’s go to my place to get the money. It’s right here nearby.”
“Eh... you don’t want to go to the lawyer? To certify that I owe you and all that?”
“Your word is enough for me. Let’s go.”
So we went. I walked first, followed by Kostya hand in hand with his little sister.
Before we’d reached the house, the system informed me of another Reputation change. This time to Amicality.
* * *
I’D GIVEN HIM the entry money from my own share of the poker tournament winnings.
Now I was standing on the balcony, watching them leave: Kostya, who was still so young, virtually a boy, and his little “button” Julie. He walked in the unhurried gait of a grown man while she scampered along, clutching her brother’s hand.
As I watched them, I realized that this young man barely twenty years old could better me in most things. I might be older and almost twice as smart, but no amount of my Intellect could hold a candle to him. Both his social status level and his stats were already higher than mine had been before I’d received the interface.
But most importantly, he was already a man — while I still had some way to go. Because it’s not sleeping with a woman that makes you a man. In order to become one, you need to accept the responsibility for someone in your life and bear this responsibility with the same dignity as Kostya, without whining or complaining.
I liked his character and I was prepared to do everything I could to help him and his sister. Some might say that I was screwing around instead of leveling up; ot
hers could say I did it for XP. Neither would be right. Something had changed in me the night when Yanna had left me and the only person who’d offered me some support was that street bum, Alik.
And once I’d helped him and his eternal gratitude had been confirmed by the interface, something shifted in me. Some cogs within me started crunching until they whirred into motion, clearing my rust-ridden soul and filling it with new blood, fresh and clean.
Since then, I’d learned to live not only with myself and my own flitting interests — but to also sympathize and relate to other people, becoming aware of my important but by far not unique persona in this enormous but tiny world. My new discoveries had been amazing. Instead of chatting, I now spoke to people; instead of just looking indifferently at them, I could see each and every one of them; and as we talked, I could hear and understand them.
Alik’s phone call disrupted my musings. “Hi, Phil. Did I wake you up?”
“Hi yourself. Whassup?”
“Eh... you know... Gorelik is holding a sales seminar. Wait a sec...” I could hear the rustle of him opening a piece of paper. “Listen here: Aram Ovsepyan is an Internet star and an expert in proactive selling,” he started reading theatrically. “The course’s curriculum contains a number of very important skills and practices indispensable for any sales manager striving for success!”
“Ah, that one. I remember. Why, do you want to sign up? Are you striving for success? Didn’t Gorelik say the tickets cost ten grand?”
“That’s exactly my point!” he laughed into the receiver. “He didn’t sell enough tickets! So now he’s prepared to let us in for a thousand!”
“Us? Who do you mean? Are you in the office? It’s the weekend!”
“Eh... yeah. We’re all here: me, Gleb and Veronica. Stacy’s the only one missing. Kesha’s here too but he’s in his print shop.”
“So what are you all doing there, may I ask?”
“It just happened. I’ve nothing to do, anyway. Then Gleb said he might come and make a tropotype...”
I could hear Gleb guffaw in the background. “Prototype, you idiot! It’s prototype!”
“Well, whatever,” Alik continued. “Basically, he wants to do our website. Veronica had a meeting here. And as for Kesha, I’ve no idea why he came. So what do you think about this seminar? They start in less than an hour. Are we going?”
“Who do you mean?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to listening for a bit. It’s Aram himself, after all. I think Kesha wanted to come, too. And also...”
The receiver rustled. “Hi, Phil,” I heard Veronica’s voice. “Listen, a thousand is no money. I suggest we all go...” I heard Gleb’s voice again in the background, “apart from Gleb. He says selling isn’t his thing, and seeing as we’re all such consummate salespeople, someone has to stay behind and do their work for them,” she giggled. “He can answer the phone as well, seeing as he’s in the office anyway. What do you think?”
I smiled. “Okay, let’s all go back to school on this fine Saturday morning. I’m coming now.”
I put the phone down. My plans for the day had been somewhat different — but then again, there was no hurry in dishing out the spare stat points. But the training might prove useful, you never know. Not just to advance the actual skill but also as a good example of spontaneous team building which I’d just witnessed.
Also, how could I have said no? The guys had come to the office on the weekend and were itching to get some training in. Who was I to put them off?
In the half-hour that was left, I managed to take a shower, feed the cat, get dressed and even pick up a bottle of yogurt to drink on the go.
Fifteen minutes before the training was supposed to start, I reached the office building.
A group of young people stood smoking on the porch. I thought I recognized the back of one of them. According to the interface, I was right: it was Greg “Bullshit Artist” Boyko, my illustrious Ultrapak ex-workmate.
“Greg?”
“Phil! Marina, look what’s the wind’s blown in!” Greg turned to the girl standing next to him, then reached out to give me a bear hug.
“Hi, Phil,” Marina laid her hands on my shoulders and gave me a peck on the cheek, dangerously close to my lips. “Are you going training as well?”
“Yeah. We actually have an office here. And you, which wind blew you two in?”
Greg cringed. “Boss’ orders. I’ve had it with his new fads up to here!”
“Orders? What does that mean?” I asked, sincerely surprised. “If the company pays for your professional development, it can only be a good thing, can’t it?”
“Listen Phil,” Marina butted in. “First of all, do you have any idea who this Aram is? He knows very well how to sell his courses but that’s the only thing he does know!”
“Sure. A good sales manager should be an expert on the kinds of goods he sells,” Greg said theatrically with a nasal accent. “And this guy is just like our Panchenko: all he can do is repeat sets of clichés in a pretty wrapper.”
“But that’s not really important,” Marina fumed. “They don’t pay us anything. Or rather, they do but-”
“No, they don’t!” Greg exploded. “Panchenko has his own secret arrangements with Aram. They’re going to deduct the course’s cost from our wages.”
“No! Are you serious? And you agreed to it?”
Marina sighed. “He simply didn’t leave us any choice. He just said that all of us needed to improve ASAP. According to him, we were a bunch of useless bastards who didn’t know how to do their jobs, and he was the only one keeping the department afloat. So we all had to master the art of selling.”
“And just then, the great expert Aram arrived in town. What a lucky coincidence,” Greg continued. “And those who didn’t want to study, didn’t deserve the proud title of an Ultrapak sales rep.”
“But what did Ivanov say?”
“The old boy seems to have completely lost all interest,” Marina explained. “Any questions we have, he sends us to Panchenko. Like, he’s the one to decide.”
“I’m sick and tired of it all,” Greg added. “They fired Cyril, can you imagine? I think it’s time we jumped ship. But where would we go?”
“You know, guys,” I paused, making some mental calculations. “Would you like to meet our commercial director after the training? His name is Kesha. You never know, we might end up working together.”
They exchanged glances.
Marina beamed. “With pleasure!”
“I’m all for kicking up a stink!” Greg laughed. “What are we gonna sell?”
“Everything,” I said, giving them both a high-five. “As soon as Cyril gets better, I’ll poach him too.”
The rest of my team appeared on the porch: Alik, Veronica and Kesha, looking for me in the crowd. They saw me and waved,
“Come on, Phil! The show’s about to start!” Kesha shouted.
Is it indeed, I thought as I laced my hands around Greg and Marina’s shoulders and steered them away to introduce them to the intrepid staff of the Great Job Agency.
* * *
MEETING GREG and Marina proved to have been the best thing about Aram Ovsepyan’s seminar. Even though the training had added a few meager points to my Vending skill, watching the speaker turned out to be far more entertaining than listening to what he’d had to say.
Here I might mention that although his Vending level was the same as mine, his Public Speaking, Motivation and Communication Skills were indeed very high. Especially Motivation. No wonder the audience left his seminars feeling elated.
My crowd wasn’t an exception.
After the training, we all got together in our office. Suddenly the room had become very cramped. I shared my outsourcing sales department idea with them. If Kesha could indeed take on the responsibility of closing the department’s contracts, then Greg, Marina and hopefully soon also Cyril, were supposed to sell the products and services of our new customers.
In the end, we shook on it. Greg and Marina were so excited that they decided to quit Ultrapak the moment Kesha brought in our first contract. I was quite adamant that this would happen very soon because we had a unique business proposition as we were working on a percentage basis without charging them any additional fees. I’d already eyed up a few potential contracts and was going to suggest them inconspicuously to Kesha if he began to stall.
As we parted, Marina dropped a dark hint that she’d split up with her grad student and was back on the market. Greg chuckled. Both Alik and Gleb ignored this new piece of information entirely. Kesha, however, perked up and somehow ended up seeing her home.
I took Alik aside and suggested he took Veronica to the flicks. At first he threw up a few excuses but in the end he plucked up enough courage to speak to her. After their conversation, he rejoined me red in the face, looking embarrassed but happy. He grinned and gave me a big thumbs-up.
“Tomorrow!” he mouthed.
* * *
SEEING AS THEY’D kicked me out of the gym, I now had to find a new one. As I signed on at a small fitness club next to my house, I replayed the events of the past few days. So many things had happened to me this last week.
On Tuesday, Stacy had arrived at our office. The same night, I’d had a fight with Mohammed and had been expelled from Matov’s boxing group. Right after that, Vicky had left me.
On Wednesday, I’d had the first of my two training sessions with Kostya, followed by me meeting Valiadis. After that, I’d come across the Ring of Veles. It also had been the first of Stacy’s three days working with us. And right after that, I’d come across Gleb waiting on my doorstep in a lamentable state.
On Thursday, he'd come with me to the office where I’d talked Veronica and Kesha into working for us. That day, I’d also received the complimentary copy of the first book I’d ever written. In the evening, I’d visited my parents after which I’d plunged into the whirlwind of gambling adventures, stupidly wasted my last available life but saved Gleb and brought him back into the fold.
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