Hero

by Dan Sugralinov

  All this cooking effort had been worth its while!

  I felt weak at the knees. A wave of happiness surged over me. My blood boiled with endorphins and dopamine. I sank to the floor, unable to withstand the overwhelming sensations.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new level!

  Your current social status level: 17

  Characteristic points available: 2

  Skill points available: 1

  XP points left until the next social status level: 100/18000

  Once the surge of pleasure had abated, I just sat there feeling drained and depressed as if everything good had already happened and I had nothing left to look forward to.

  Still, I forced myself back to my senses. This was only a hormonal blip. The only thing that puzzled me was why would they do something like this to an interface user? No wonder those unlucky ones whose interfaces had encouraged their aggression, had farmed XP non-stop like the Legendary Moonlight Sculptor simply to experience these heavenly sensations once again.

  This time, I’d received two stat points for the new level: this was the Altruist bonus at work. Great. Now I had five available main characteristic points — plus a skill point which I might have to invest later once I’d finished what I was planning to do tonight.

  I finished my dinner and did the dishes. These days, I tried to never forgo the task because doing it later took the same amount of time but the caked-on grease was much harder to clean. That out of the way, I went for a nap.

  The night promised to be a sleepless one. I really needed to conserve my strength and top up my Spirit reserves. I needed to reload my brain and give my tired body a chance to recuperate.

  The moment I laid my head on the couch cushion and closed my eyes, a new system message barged its way into my mind’s blissful blankness.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Learning Skills

  Current level: 13

  XP received: 500

  Skill optimization complete!

  The 1 pt. of your secondary skill (Playing Mortal Kombat) have been converted into 0.5 pt. of the primary skill associated with it (Learning Skills).

  Your secondary skill (Playing Mortal Kombat) has been deleted without recovery option.

  Current level of your primary skill (Learning Skills): 13

  Would you like Learning Skills to be your primary skill by default?

  Accept / Decline

  I clicked Accept. Having kept Learning Skills as a primary skill, I received a 50% bonus to its development rate. Half a point of Optimization had been enough to receive a new level. Which was good news because now I could learn not 15 but 18 times faster!

  I opened the skill window. To be precise, I’d received 1785% to skill learning rate, and that’s without the achievement bonus.

  Thank you! Learning Skills is now your default primary skill.

  Please choose a new secondary skill

  I still had a shedload of useless skills, of course, like Playing Durak[50], but wasting a month to gain half a skill point sounded pretty stupid. In the end, I chose a different skill. Earlier this week, when I’d been saving some snapshots from the first days of our company, my Photography had reached level 4. In all honesty, it wasn’t the most useful of skills in my situation.

  Thank you! You’ve just chosen Photography as a secondary skill associated with your current primary skill.

  Would you like to convert the 4 pt. of your secondary skill (Photography) into 2 pt. of the primary skill associated with it (Learning Skills)?

  Yes / No

  I pressed Accept, thus launching my third Optimization. The window disappeared.

  Finally, I could doze off. Still, I kept tossing and turning until I realized I wasn’t going to get much sleep. I was buzzing too much, thinking about the upcoming poker game.

  In the end, I decided that the sooner I started, the quicker it would be over with. I scooped up all my cash and got myself ready to go to the club.

  I couldn’t remember the exact address of the Railway Workers Community Center because on my previous trip there I’d been both wound up and too sleepy to look out the window. Funny but instead of just Googling it, I tried to retrieve the KIDD points of those I’d met there. Most of them weren’t even there yet, at least I’d detected neither Raduk the Rhinestone Cowboy nor Dimedrol and his sidekicks. The only person already there was Anton, the club manager. I used his marker to detect the club’s location, then called a cab.

  As we drove, I was slightly jittery. My intuition was screaming that the whole thing was a very bad idea. But I went there, anyway.

  In order to keep myself busy and dispel the bad premonitions I was having, I decided to check on my clan members. The young and single ones — Alik, Veronica and Marina — were now in a local bar called The Perimeter together with Cyril and Kesha who were both divorced and therefore, technically also single. The map wouldn’t tell me what exactly they were doing there but judging by all the Intoxication debuffs, I didn’t even need to guess. It looked like Marina might have plenty of choice tonight.

  Gleb and his family had gone to the movies. Greg was at home with his pregnant wife Alina, as was the Katz family.

  For a brief moment, I felt like canceling this crazy idea and heading for the bar, just to compete with the other guys for Marina’s attention. I was young and single too, after all, despite being threatened by the reappearance of the spontaneous erection debuff.

  Still, I dismissed the thought. The moment wasn’t right for me to do any extended partying.

  I remembered the old song,

  Our house will sag in my absence,

  And my dog died a long time ago.

  Me, I’ll die without compassion

  In the crooked streets of Moscow, I know...[51]

  If I didn’t want my house to “sag in my absence” and for Boris to die “a long time ago”, I had to walk with my head held high along the crooked streets of our little town. Otherwise, I might spend the rest of my life beating myself up because everything had been in vain.

  On this note, I carried on toward the club whiling the time away by looking at my skill progress over the last couple of weeks. Because my work involved constantly trying to tune into my clients’ moods and feelings, I’d managed to bring Empathy up to 11.

  I’d brought Reading Skills up to 10. These days, I read quickly and copiously. At 9, my Vending Skills were slightly lagging, with Communication Skills to match. I’d managed to raise Running up to 8 while bringing both Marketing and Leadership Skills up to 7.

  Triggered by my cardinal change of lifestyle, both Planning and Self-Discipline had still been evolving in synch, reaching levels 5 and 6 respectively, with Decision Making and Erudition slightly higher. And a couple of days ago, I’d finally upped Company Management to level 2.

  There were a few less significant ups too. Like First Aid which had risen to level 2 due to the fact that I’d had to treat my own gym injuries a lot recently. As for Singing, it had just grown naturally — probably because of my stupid habit of humming in the shower. And seeing as I was showering three times a day just lately...

  “We’ve arrived!” the cabbie brought me back to reality.

  “Thanks a lot,” I got out of the car and headed for the entrance to the community center — or should I say the illegal gambling den?

  I climbed to the third floor. Two guards stood watch by the same door leading to the building's right wing. Same black suits, same crew cuts, different faces.

  “Hello. I’d like to play, please.”

  “Have you been here before?” one of them asked.

  “Yes, last week.”

  “Have you got a club card?”

  “Unfortunately, not. Last time I came just to get a feel for the place.”

  The second bouncer nodded to his partner who swung the door open before me. “Please go on in.”

  A new girl stood behind the familiar reception desk, together
with Anton, the club manager.

  “Hi,” I said.”

  “Phil!” he beamed. “Good evening! How are you? We’re so happy to see you back!”

  “Do you remember my name?”

  “Of course we do,” he said, faking offense. “A beginner who won at the high-stakes table? You’re a legend. Everybody’s trying to work out who you really are. Is your name really Phil?”

  “It is,” I admitted. Being a cheat was nothing to be proud of but still his words had rung nicely.

  “So you don’t play professionally? Unfortunately, we couldn’t get hold of your contact information. And your friend Gleb doesn’t answer his cell number anymore.”

  I tensed up. “What do you mean?”

  “You see, our club selects the best players and sponsors their participation in major world tournaments. Very soon there’ll be one such competition in the US. The prize fund is huge. If you wish, I could introduce you to our management.”

  I shrugged. “Sounds good. I might think about it. Can I get some chips, please?” I dumped all my cash on the desk.

  The manager scooped it up and counted off a stack of their gaming chips.

  “Have a good evening! And good luck!” both said almost in unison.

  “Thanks!”

  “I suggest you consider becoming a club member,” Anton shouted after me.

  I nodded without turning. Their carrots didn’t tempt me at all. All I wanted was to do what I’d come here for and get back out again safely. My previous death had been enough for me.

  Also, my latest memories of my second life had given me a pretty good idea of who Dimedrol — that douchebag police colonel — truly was. If people like him had any sort of influence or even a share in this place, I really wasn’t interested in their offers.

  I made my way directly to the high-stakes table. There were no tournaments in the club tonight which meant I’d have to take money from ordinary players — probably addicts like Gleb used to be.

  Apart from me and the dealer, there were six people at the table, two of them women. The younger one wasn’t playing: she must have arrived here as someone’s guest and was now sitting staring at her phone while twisting a slim cigarette in her long delicate fingers.

  The other woman, however, was completely engrossed in the game. Her name was Jaqueline. Well, she may not have been Jaqueline Onassis, but she still seemed pretty loaded. At least she had tons of chips. The precious fur mantle draped over her shoulders despite the hot July weather spoke volumes about her status. Having said that, the room was rather chilly with the air conditioning going at full tilt.

  She was the person I had to confront once I’d had a winning hand of three Jacks. I knew she already had two pairs but was waiting for a straight or a full house — and she wasn’t likely to get either.

  That’s exactly how it happened, bringing me almost five hundred bucks.

  “Congratulations,” she said, sounding puzzled. “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She tilted her head back and gave me the once-over. I didn’t care. I wasn’t too impressed by her, anyway. Her eyelashes appeared way too thick and long to be real. I didn’t like this kind of artificially enhanced beauty. I much prefer a natural charm.

  As I focused on the next cards being dealt, I heard someone whisper to Jaqueline that I was “the same beginner” who’d won last Friday’s tournament.

  Before I could take in my own popularity, my Spirit plummeted almost to zero which was a sure sign of the program kicking in.

  My vision shrank, coloring everything an intense crimson. I could see nothing now apart from a few lines of text.

  A wave of inexplicable fear came over me, a bit like a panic attack. All I wanted was to chuck in the cards and scramble to the safety of my home.

  “It’s your turn,” the person next to me said, shaking my shoulder. “You’re holding everybody up.”

  Blindly I pushed the cards away from me as I peered at the terrible message. “Pass.”

  Warning! You’ve just performed a socially detrimental action!

  The interface will be disconnected in 3... 2... 1...

  The world around me faded, the noise of the busy gaming hall — the dealer’s comments and the voices of my fellow players — being the only indication I was still alive.

  Suddenly everything came back. Frozen and bathed in cold sweat, I was still sitting at the poker table and the game was still in full swing.

  Only now my interface was gone.

  I must have appeared lost and helpless like someone with impaired eyesight who’d dropped his glasses. It made no sense to play on or to stay here at all.

  The world looked different now, sort of bleached and weird. Don’t get me wrong, my eyesight was still fine. All the improvements I’d received from the interface seemed to still be there. But... how can I explain it to you? If you ever played RPG games, just try to envision yourself in such a game but without any kind of prompts. No health and mana bars, no description of your opponents, no mini-map. The first thing you might do in a situation like that is log out in order to work out what had happened and why your interface had disappeared. Because you simply can’t play without one, can you?

  This wasn’t going to work in my case, was it? You couldn’t walk out on a game like this.

  I couldn’t even summon Martha, dammit! Which meant I couldn’t work out what had happened.

  Without waiting for the game to end, I scooped up my chips, thanked my fellow players and headed for the exit under their uncomprehending stares.

  “Are you going already?” Anton asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m afraid I feel real bad. I can’t even think about playing.”

  I cashed in my chips and left the club. Anton asked me once again to leave him my coordinates but I refused. I wasn’t going to ever come back here.

  I’d had three of the biggest frights of my life. The first was to lose someone close to me, the second was to lose the interface, and the third, to die myself. All three had successfully come true within the walls of this den of iniquity.

  Back home, as I tossed and turned in my bed, I was trying to think what might have caused the program to close down but came up with nothing except my own cheating. The only thing that didn’t fit in was the fact that I’d done exactly the same already a week ago and hadn’t received any penalties or system warnings.

  Or might it have been the actual goal for which I’d been playing? But by the same token, wouldn’t that imply that you could rob, steal and cheat with impunity provided it was for a noble cause?

  It just didn’t sum up. Also, I hadn’t been doing it for myself. I meant to spend the money on the company’s development. It didn’t make sense.

  Finally I fell asleep despite all these desperate ponderings.

  In the absence of my good old inner alarm clock, I’d slept in well until midday. I’d had no dreams or nightmares but still I awoke bathed in sweat. Without even opening my eyes, I knew that the interface was gone. I’d secretly hoped that it would still be there.

  It was hot and stifling in the room. I hadn’t opened the window during the night nor had I turned on the aircon. So I scooped up all the bedding and headed melancholically for the shower, throwing everything into the washer on my way.

  With or without the interface, I wasn’t going to give up.

  After breakfast, I spent an hour finishing reading All the King’s Men by Robert Warren whose tedious digressions were more than compensated by a long pensive aftertaste.

  Having finished reading, I went for a run. My next boxing training with Kostya wasn’t until tomorrow lunchtime. Apparently, he had something important to do in the morning. In the afternoon, I was taking my nephew to the movies. Kira had been seriously overworked just lately, so her son was staying with our parents every weekend.

  I found running even easier without the interface — probably because nothing was distracting me from the monotony o
f my feet meeting the crumbling rubberized track. In this heat, I quickly started sweating, wiping my eyes with the already-wet long sleeves of my track jacket. By the end of my run, I’d stopped worrying about my interface and started wondering about how to raise the money for the company.

  That’s when I remembered the boxing tournament.

  At first, the idea seemed crazy. Who was I to challenge fighters of this caliber?

  Then I remembered I’d managed to knock Mohammed out — and he was one of Matov’s best. My sparring bouts with Kostya were becoming easier by the day and I wouldn’t have said that he now had any considerable advantage. Which meant that if I came prepared and provided the cards fell in my favor, I still stood a decent chance. There were two weeks left till the tournament which was at least six more sessions with Kostya. Add to this my times-18 leveling boost and the 10% leveling rate bonus...

  Oh well. I might be lucky. Especially considering I’d only been level 5 when I’d KO’d Mohammed — and now I was level 7. And I might also be lucky to receive another buff, something like Passion to Win, for instance.

  Very well. All I needed to do was call my ex-coach.

  I stopped, took the phone out of my pocket and dialed Matov’s number.

  “Speaking,” his cold voice replied.

  “Hello, Sir. This is Phil...”

  “I hear you. What do you want?”

  “I’d like to sign up for the tournament. Could you tell me where I can do so?”

  “They’re not accepting any more applications. You’re too late.”

  “But there’s still loads of time left till the tournament...”

  “Sorry, can’t help you. We have the world and his mother wanting to sign up. We already have five hundred applicants as it is. We might have to do some preliminaries.”

  “Are you sure I can’t sign? What if someone drops out?”

  “Then he’ll lose by default. Only if someone changes his mind and relinquishes his place to you. Right, I need to be off now,” he hung up.