Web of Worlds

by Michael Atamanov

  The security director traced the outline of the face, entered some command and almost immediately a brief dossier showed up, excerpts of which Alexander Antipov read aloud:

  “Ahsanuddin Hussein Rahman. Citizen of Canada. Family immigrated from Bangladesh. So... education, career... Everything looks normal. At present he works at the Canadian Embassy in Moscow. What’s wrong with him, Kirill?”

  “What’s wrong? Well we can start from the fact that this ‘Hussein Rahman’ is definitely not from our earth, but the parallel magocratic one!”

  The security director stumbled back and looked at me, batting his red eyes in surprise and his mouth agape:

  “Impossible! Are you sure, Kirill?!”

  “One hundred percent. I’ve seen many Dark Faction people, and a few of them very close up. I mean, I’m married to someone from that world, so I can recognize the characteristics of their race immediately! That ‘native of Bengal’ is wearing makeup to cover up the fact that his skin is ash-gray, but that isn’t enough to stop me from recognizing a person from the magocratic world! And his dark glasses, I suspect, are for the very same purpose as mine,” I said, removing the dark glasses, which I usually wore under the Dome to keep a low profile. Then I laid them on the table and finished my sentence: “to hide his glowing mage eyes!”

  This was turning out much more complicated than it looked at first glance. The Dark Faction not only know a surprising amount about our plans, but had help from at least one faction from our version of Earth and had even sent agents into our world.

  Antipov was alarmed and asked me to stay under the Dome for the next hour and a half or so and not disappear, then ran to the “secure room for communicating with Moscow” to tell the curators the news about the Dark Faction. But before he could leave, I asked the director to tell the Moscow bigwigs the thing I actually came here to tell him: The Dark Faction knew everything we said at the recent meeting of key players.

  “The information is authentic, I got it through Princess Minn-O La-Fin from enemy leader General Ui-Taka himself. He misspoke in her presence and mentioned a timeframe he should not have known. That means someone from the very top of our faction is working for the enemy and the circle of suspects is no wider than everyone who was at that meeting!”

  I thought Alexander Antipov would latch onto the new information like a tick and start sucking out more details. But his reaction caught me off guard. The fed started boring into me with his eyes, and spoke in an angered tone:

  “Kirill, you must know how much I don’t like all this! You’re up to some behind-the-scenes negotiations with the enemy through your wife and circumventing our official Diplomat. And you’re using a totally unregulated channel. No one knows what information is being sent over! What’s more, you’re just one person removed from a clear enemy — the leader of our enemies in fact! And let me remind you that you were present at the key-players meeting. All that, Kirill, means that you are our main suspect!”

  If Alexander Antipov was trying to throw me or scare me with fearsome words and accusations, he had severely miscalculated. What was more, I could read complete bewilderment in his thoughts. Most importantly, the fed didn’t himself believe I was guilty and was merely trying to scare me “just in case.” What was more, I discovered that the intelligence director had an unexpectedly high opinion of me. Alexander Antipov considered my work very important and useful to the faction. So in response to his contrived allegations, I just laughed:

  “Well I also know the Geckho leader Kung Waid Shishish, and not through someone else, directly. But does that make me a Geckho agent? By the way, I have requested secret one-on-one negotiations with the Kung through my business partner Uline Tar. I have something to offer the commander of the Second Geckho Strike Fleet, and I’m greatly counting on his gratitude. I don’t want to predict the future, but it’s possible we will repeat the trick I pulled off with the Graveyard node before. Or at the very least get rid of that penalty.”

  While he sat there, batting his eyes and digesting the information, I continued:

  “I am also personally acquainted with the Great Prophet of the Miyelonian race Leng Amiru U-Mayaoo, as well as the commander of the Miyelonian fleet in this part of the galaxy, Leng Keetsie-Myau. Following your logic, does that make me a Miyelonian agent? And yes, just so you know, the great Miyelonian commander gave me an assurance that the fleet of the Union of Miyelonian Prides will not attack Earth after our planet’s grace period is up. And although Keetsie told me that mentally, such a famous figure’s promise is as valuable as an officially signed treaty covered with stamps and signatures.”

  “Great work!” Alexander Antipov finally stated his own position. “I imagine Ivan Lozovsky is also gonna appreciate your diplomatic success and will write you out a bonus!” the deputy faction leader assured me, but I just waved it off because a bonus was the last thing I cared about at this point.

  It was actually with a certain degree of surprise that I suddenly realized I had no expectations of my faction. Or actually, not even that. The faction had nothing for me that I didn’t already have or could get in the game that bends reality. Reality itself had become just a dull, faded shadow of the bright and interesting virtual world. That was frightening. I really didn’t want to become some jack-off game addict, spending days and nights on end in a computer game to the detriment of real life.

  As if reading my thoughts, he told me that Irina Chusovkina the psychologist really wanted me to go see her and that she had a “very tempting proposition” for me. Apparently, the leader of the Second Legion Gerd Tamara also wanted to see me and wanted me told that she was willing to meet whenever I could. Antipov again repeated his request that I not go right back into the game because the list of targets for attack from space would be ready in an hour, then declared our meeting over.

  The fed clearly couldn’t wait to report to Moscow that Dark Faction agents had reached our world, but still I took up another few minutes, asking him to tell me about the situation with the allied Human-6 Faction. Neither Lozovsky nor Antipov had said a word about the German faction during today’s conversation, and I was seriously worried that the very worst had come to pass. But fortunately I was wrong:

  “The Germans are still in control of the two coastal nodes. We have reinforced their defenses with Centaurs and our troops, but the Dark Faction hasn’t attacked yet because their southern battle group has been tied up in the Rainforest and Tropics. Now the Second Legion is latched into the enemy like a bull terrier and drawing their attention while we try to figure out how long it will take the Human-6 Faction to repopulate.”

  “To... what? What do you mean repopulate?” I didn’t understand what he said.

  The security director was eager to explain:

  “We gave our allies a choice of two nodes to avoid the threat of complete destruction. One is to the south east of the Yellow Mountains: Phylira the Centaur mare gifted it to us yesterday as part of a previous understanding. The other is on the opposite shore of the bay... I don’t know how much you heard about Project Exodus, former faction leader Radugin’s pet project. Have you even heard of it? Weird, it was meant to be top-secret. Well then you won’t be surprised to hear that a level-one citadel is almost finished on the far shore of the bay to the south of the Geckho spaceport. The node is almost ready to settle, and the Germans chose it so they can get farther from this war and the Dark Faction as a whole.”

  * * *

  None of the Second Legion soldiers could find Gerd Tamara anywhere under the Dome. And no surprise: our faction was engaged in a counterattack on the southern front with battles in the swampy forests of the Tropics node. That meant the leader of the Second Legion was needed in the game. But our psychologist came and tracked me down as I was heading to the canteen with Imran. From afar, I heard rustling on the gravel path and, when I turned around I saw a middle-aged dark-haired woman wearing a track suit catching up to us.

  “Kirill, what rare luck to catch you
under the Dome! You got a couple minutes? I’d just like to have a chat alone, without your guard,” she said, pointing to my Dagestani friend.

  Slowing down, I asked Imran to go to the cafeteria alone, promising to catch up soon. Irina Chusovkina suggested we sit on a nearby bench, but I refused. I didn’t feel any discomfort after all those hours in the virt pod, but still assumed my real body needed more real motion to keep my muscles in shape. And so, I suggested to the faction psychologist that we have our talk over a little run through the park. We were both already in tracksuits anyway.

  “If you say so, Kirill,” she agreed easily and set the pace of the run. Not wasting time, she got right to business. “It’s been a fairly long time since our last conversation. I see you didn’t take my advice to smooth things over with our faction. In fact, you only distanced yourself further and dove head first into the game. In the last five days, you’ve spent at best three hours in the real world.”

  “I’ve heard from the Geckho that you can spend up to five days in the game that bends reality without suffering negative consequences. So I have been keeping to the recommendations of our experienced and wise suzerains.”

  “Nevertheless, you aren’t really sure they’re right, which is why you decided to get a workout in, even though I’ve never seen you do that before,” the psychologist called me out with ease. “Three hours in five days, that is nowhere near enough to understand what matters most to our people. Kirill, do you even know there’s a war on?”

  I didn’t answer her acrid and provocative question so I wouldn’t blow up in her face. I understood that the experienced psychologist was trying to draw me out, hoping to apply some of her know-how and clever tactics. Keep dreaming! We both kept quiet for a minute, just running next to one another unhurriedly before Irina understood she was mistaken and came at it another way:

  “Alright, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I understand that your mission in the distant cosmos is important to all humanity as well. I can only guess how anxious you must be, not being able to help your friends and colleagues. Wait... I can’t keep going... I’m all out of breath...” Irina slowed to a walk and I had to follow her even though I wasn’t one bit tired.

  My companion headed to a nearby bench and sat down, lowering her head very far and breathing heavily. I didn’t sit down though, and stayed standing next to Irina Chusovkina as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I guess I’ve really let myself go... I need to exercise more often. I’m just all out of breath, and it looks like my blood pressure is up. My head is splitting! Don’t pout, Kirill!” the psychologist gave a tortured smile. “You want me to tell you a little secret? After your group of gamer students, the curators of the project deemed the experiment a success and brought another two similar groups under the Dome. Cyberathletes, professional gamers, winners of many international tournaments and championships in all kinds of online games. We even got a very famous Russian-Ukrainian team of cyberathletes to come under the Dome in its entirety.”

  “Yeah? And how are they doing?” I asked, my interest piqued. “We got a new levelling speed record yet?”

  “If only...” she sighed grievously. “It hasn’t produced the desired result. Their progress is the same as faction average, it’s all within the bounds of statistical error. And that’s why they keep sending me back to the issue again and again, hoping to discover just what makes you so special. You are the shining star of our faction beyond all doubt. You shine so bright that you make our faction’s other high-profile players look dim by comparison. So I have to ask you, have you thought about what I said about the faction and your choice?”

  Damn, this difficult conversation again...Five days ago I trembled to think about returning to this topic and giving her an answer. No matter how badly I might have wanted to ignore external problems and simply live my life like an ostrich with its head buried in sand, to my enormous pity, it was not possible.

  “Irina, I thought this over five days ago. And I don’t understand why they’re so determined to squeeze me out of the faction. So Ivan Lozovsky can become Leng? Is that his idea? But would these new abilities make up for the potential loss of the only Listener in the game, together with his starship and all Team Gnat?”

  I thought that framing would throw her off. However, I was wrong. Irina was noticeably pleased that I was finally willing to discuss this touchy issue.

  “Kirill, what makes you think Russia only has one Dome? Yes, this is the largest and has the most players, but there are others. And the First Legion even took a little trip to teach our brethren the ABC’s of the game that bends reality. By and large, it makes no difference which Russian faction you, your starship and Team Gnat belong to, because in the end all new technologies, all new discoveries brought in from space will be going to the same destination. And sure the new faction has just thirty players and one level-one node. But that means the administrative requirements are minimal and, with your Fame and Authority, you will immediately become a Leng.”

  Here it was... I immediately realized this offer had come from above, and Ivan Lozovsky was nowhere near its original source. The curators wanted to split me from the careerist diplomat and all other key players because I was holding them back. But that didn’t really mean much to me... I chose my words for a delicate refusal, but I didn’t have to say anything. Irina suddenly sat back in her bench and held her head in her hands:

  “Gnat... Kirill... For some reason I feel really nasty. My eyes are going dark... Help me to the medical unit. Or call a doctor.”

  I started freaking out and looked around, trying to figure out where the medical unit was from there. I saw Imran running down the path in my direction. Before he got near, the Dagestani athlete shouted from the distance:

  “There’s something weird going on, Gnat! Two of the chefs in the cafeteria had an attack. They fell on the floor and are writhing around saying they feel sick and have a horrible headache! People are panicking, everyone is shouting that the food is severely poisoned! And some are also complaining that they feel sick.”

  I pointed my friend to Irina Chusovkina, who was quietly sobbing in pain and pressing her hands to her temples:

  “I can see that. And Antipov the fed was also complaining of a bad headache! Pick Irina up and get her to treatment stat! Have the doctors sort out her poisoning, or whatever this is. And step to! Every second might be precious!”

  Imran didn’t argue, grabbed the woman by the arms and ran after me right over some bushes to the medical building. Already in the doorway of the med unit, we ran into Alexander Antipov leaving the doctor and looking displeased:

  “Yeah right they don’t have stronger pain killers. I’d never believe that in my life!” he started complaining about the obduracy of the medical staff. “After the information about the darksiders breaking into our world, the curators called me to an emergency meeting in Moscow, and my head is just splitting. Its unbearable. How can I possibly make a report when I’m in so much pain it’s hard to speak?!”

  “Alexander, this is very important. Did you go to the cafeteria today?” I asked the director in a strict tone.

  “No, there was no time to eat breakfast or lunch today because of all the stuff going on. I just had coffee and sandwiches. Why do you ask?”

  I looked at Irina, who was passed out and limp in the arms of the Dagestani athlete, then at the security director writhing with a headache in front of me unhappily, and made a decisive announcement:

  “No one is flying to Moscow!!! The best-case scenario here is a mass poisoning but, most likely, this is an outbreak of a highly infectious disease! We must give an order to isolate the Dome from the outside world and strictly forbid anyone from going outside!!!”

  Alexander Antipov looked at me in strain for a few seconds then nodded, took his radio off his belt and sent an order to “post one” saying not let anyone leave the Dome regardless of passes and signatures even from the top bosses. Then the fed voiced the very though
t dancing on the tip of my tongue:

  “I think I’m beginning to understand why Anna left the Dome in such a hurry yesterday! And what brought her back to the secret facility after her brother’s wedding, even though she could have easily just fled two days earlier.”

  “Yes, this looks very much like the Dark Faction’s payback,” I agreed with a heavy sigh. “Revenge for blowing up the large number of mages at Thumor-Anhu La-Fin’s funeral and the combat maneuvers spilling over into the real world from the game. And this looks like they’re just showing us what they’re capable of. After all, most of the people working here under the Dome don’t have to fear disease. The game will heal everything. Only the auxiliary staff are at risk along with the few people connected with the game but without a character.”

  “Yes, like me or our psychologist,” Alexander Antipov agreed thoughtfully.

  “Exactly. They bet on a military victory but it didn’t pay off. Our faction held out despite the suddenness and ferocity of the darksider onslaught. So now they’re changing tactics. What happened here under the Dome is the Dark Faction trying to gain leverage for the upcoming peace talks. If we aren’t sufficiently pliable, they may use biological weapons not just here but in Moscow with its millions of inhabitants!”

  Chapter Ten. Fire from the Sky

  I WAS SITTING on the bridge in front of my console, waiting for a response from the space port dispatchers and just seething with rage. Eduard, who left to the real world after Imran and me, confirmed that a biological weapon had been used under the Dome. Six of the Dome’s civilian staff had died. Another twenty-seven were in quarantine in the medical unit, most in severe condition, and the medics were having a hard time making any sort of prognosis. The first to get sick and die worked in the building for high-profile players, which gave a basis to suggest that the disease had spread from there. Next were the driver of the irrigation vehicle, the old chef, and a nurse. They were also unable to save faction psychologist Irina Chusovkina.