by Arthur Stone
Cheater was disturbed, to put it mildly. Stories of the terrifying arbitrary nature of digis flashed into his memory. Innocent players and malicious players alike could end up imprisoned in freshly reset clusters at their mercy. When a cluster first came in, the police, military, and various security services did their best to handle the citizens as usual. They locked offenders up in jails, but when the prisoners were released, it was by beasts, not digis. In the worst cases, those so detained died not by monster but from thirst. Only immunes with skills that helped arrange escapes had a good chance. Otherwise, it was up to luck.
Cheater had no such skills, but his Luck was a different matter. Come on, Luck, don’t let me down. What other possible outcomes were there? Demand to see the interrogator, punch him in the jaw, and try to escape?
He fingered the bump on his head. It was big. Note to self: Grab a helmet next time. The pavement had scraped up his cheek badly, too. At least his clothing was still wearable, though damaged. No serious wounds and no fractures. Apparently.
Still, he had some doubt, for several reasons. The medic had assured the cops that Cheater was fine, but he had a hard time trusting an unknown, possibly hostile digi source. This was a jail. The bar for medical treatment was probably pretty high.
As he began to feel himself up and down for signs of trauma, a quiet, unpleasantly hoarse female voice mocked him.
“I’ve never even seen anybody grope me like that, never mind grope himself. To each his own, I guess.”
Cheater still couldn’t see anyone in the cell across. Darkness reigned in the room, especially in the corners. The police had failed to start any generators, unlike those hardware store employees. Was that even allowed, keeping and interrogating prisoners in the dark?
Not that what was “allowed” mattered for anyone anymore.
“Well? You mute? Never seen a woman quite like me?”
“No idea. I can’t see you at all. But if your voice is anything to go by, I’d better shut my eyes before my day is ruined.”
“Haven’t pumped your Perception yet? Whatever. I’m not offended. This place is boring, and I hate these bastards.”
“So you’re a player.”
“No. Just a digi who accidentally blurted out something about pumping Perception.”
“Sorry, that was stupid. I took a bad hit to the head.”
“Right. What happened?”
“I stole a motorcycle from some wannabe biker. But a car cut me off and spun me out. No idea how I’m still alive.”
“You got lucky. That happens. So they’re charging you with a bikejacking.”
“I had an ax and a bunch of knives, but they were all purchased at the hardware store, not stolen. And they’re utility knives.”
“Still, digis are dumb. I wouldn’t put anything past them. Doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“What are you in for?”
“Nothing in particular. I was just walking along minding my own business when a psycho with a hatchet rushed me. He cut one of his own kind down right in front of me, then turned his blade my way. I decided to take him out instead of fleeing. When I hit him with a sweep kick, his head swung right into a parking meter.”
“Doubt he’ll ever walk again.”
“It was worse than that. His skull shattered, and his brains were showing. As if the digis had real brains. As my luck would have it, there were a couple of cops right across the street. They charged at me screaming, guns drawn. Cuffed me and tossed me in here. What’s your ability, by the way? I know, I know, uncomfortable question. You can spare the details. But we have to get out of here, and my ability isn’t going to help.”
“If you’re asking whether I can take out locks and cuffs with brute force, I can’t, sadly.”
“Hmm. You know what’s going to happen to us, then.”
“The digis will turn and start their grumbling. That’ll bring something big enough to tear these bars apart, and then we’re off to respawn.”
“Exactly. How high’s your level? If your Strength is near 50 or so, I bet you could use your bare hands on these bars.”
“So you can see me but not see my level? You’re hardly ten feet away from me. What’s wrong?”
“That’s just how I am. My vision is, well, different than yours. I can’t see your nickname, even.”
“Nor I yours. What should I call you?”
“Why are you asking?” she snapped back.
“Huh? Pretty common question, no? I’m Cheater. Not the most clever nick, I know. But that’s what you can call me.”
“Stupid nickname, sure. But not near as bad as mine.”
“Well, no need to have a complex about it. We’re all in the same boat here.”
“Just promise you won’t laugh. I’m Titty Tat.”
“Not a bad name, really. I’ll call you Tat. I do wonder how you earned it, though.”
“Best not to ask. So what’s your Strength at? Enough to get through these bars?”
“That’s expecting a bit much. I’m just level 11.”
“Goddammit.”
“So I’m assuming your Strength is also pretty low.”
“I’m just level 17. Not much higher than yours, really. We’re stuck.”
“How about you try seducing the guard?”
“You try first, why don’t you? There aren’t any guards here, anyway. They locked you up and left. You can imagine how busy they are right now, dealing with a city that’s tearing itself apart, all while their own are losing their minds with everyone else. They’ll probably just forget about us.”
“Do you know how to pick locks?”
“You think I look like a burglar?”
“I honestly have no idea what you look like. I can’t see you.”
“Where are you gonna get the awl from?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Dammit. I’m trying not to think about that. Trying. Really. Hard. Look, are you joking, or do you really have an awl?”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking. But yeah, I do.”
Cheater spared her the details. It was a miracle that he had the awl at all. On his shopping spree, he had purchased the tiniest blade he could find and had placed it in one of his personal inventory cells. It was small, but that was the point. He could end up a prisoner at any time in this world, and a weapon that couldn’t be located even by a thorough search could save his life. Cheater’s absurd Accuracy meant he could hurl it about a dozen feet and still hit his target right in the eye, or right up the ear canal.
“I don’t know what the deal is with these locks, but I’ve seen a guy unlock handcuffs with a paperclip before. See if you can pull that off.”
“I’m not handcuffed.”
“What? Then why am I?”
“No idea. I wasn’t the one who cuffed you.”
“Chauvinist bastards!”
“I agree with you on that.”
“Try opening the door before anyone shows up.”
“Isn’t it a little early for that? This is a police station. How will we break out from a city police station with a single awl? Or will you just slay them with your dazzling beauty?”
“I think you’re more of their type. Anyway, there are only a couple. Like I said, everyone’s out on patrol. As long as they still have some semblance of sanity, they’ll try to keep things under control. I can take two down with my bare hands. You get a third, and we have a chance. I only saw four of them when they brought me in. Did you see more?”
“No. I was unconscious. Head wound. I didn’t see anything.”
“You’re worthless.”
“Like I said. I have no idea how to pick locks, either.”
“I get it, I get it—you’re not exactly the man of my dreams.”
“Is every girl here like this?”
“Like what?”
“I knew this girl. Er—know this girl. She talked like you. We didn’t get along at first. Her tongue was sharp as a sword, and she was alw
ays jabbing it at me.”
“A sharp tongue is an important part of a woman’s defense.”
“And modesty, too.”
“Enough chatting. Just unlock your door with that awl of yours.”
Cheater had already expressed his doubts about picking the lock, but as he actually approached it, he realized there was no point to even trying. The keyhole was on the outside of the door in the bars, of course, so he could only grope at it, without being able to see anything.
How could he blindly do something that was likely hopeless even with a pair of eyes? But he began to poke around anyway. Sometimes he found something he could press, and once there was even an encouraging click, but neither phenomenon led anywhere.
The door was as locked as it had been when he began.
“This will take me a year, at least. I can’t see shit.”
“So we’re stuck?”
“Completely. Unless we come up with something else.”
“Get back!” Titty Tat whispered urgently. “I hear someone coming!”
Cheater jumped back from the bars and sat on the bench, hiding the awl back in its inventory cell and pretending he was the pinnacle of innocence.
He didn’t hear the footsteps himself until another ten seconds had passed. His neighbor’s perceptiveness surprised him. She had detected the incoming cops and reacted, while Cheated had been clueless.
There were two of them, and they stopped in front of his cell. The light in the hallway was so poor that he could make out nothing about them besides the fact they were in uniform.
One of them muttered with a voice Cheater hadn’t heard before.
“Right, right, this one is uncuffed. They told me he was secure.”
“No problem on this side. The girl is cuffed.”
Cheater remembered that voice. He was one of those who had been talking when he came to.
“So why is this guy just sitting there?”
“Look, they just forgot. It’s been a tough day.”
“It sure has.”
“Hey, you! Come over here and stretch out your hands.”
Cheater had naively believed that the police would come inside his cell in order to handcuff him. Alas, they knew that wasn’t the right call for them. How could he deal with two adversaries when a full set of steel bars separated them from him?
He pretended not to have heard them.
Displeasure darkened the policeman’s voice.
“Are you deaf? Up and over here, to the bars, now!”
“Sorry, boys, I can’t do that. My doctor told me to take it easy, so you guys can go. Oh wait, he actually said ‘bed rest.’ Have you come to tuck me in? Hurry it up then. Clean sheets, pronto!”
“How about I make sheets out of your skin, huh? Man is it gonna hurt to pee after this,” the cop said unconvincingly, as he attempted an ominous rattle of his keys.
Lame. Digis were so bad at threats.
But events took a pleasant turn, then. The key went into a different hole, not the one Cheater had been attempting to pick, and the double bolt of the lock turned. The door creaked open.
If both of the cops got into the dark cell, they’d probably have the advantage, so Cheater went for the attack. A body check, and out the door. A kick at the policeman going for his baton, then a blow to the other’s head, then a feint and a sidestep, smashing his elbow into the man’s face.
It wasn’t a knockout blow, but it was certainly disorienting. The cop Cheater had punched leaped back and unbuttoned his holster. But he should have leaped to the side, for he ended up with his back to the bars holding Titty Tat. She didn’t disappoint. Like lightning she seized the policeman’s head and slammed it backwards, repeatedly and mercilessly, against the iron bars. With a direct hit to the jaw, Cheater’s opponent finally went limp.
He crouched down to retrieve the pistol. “Open my cell!” he heard the woman bark.
Looking up, he saw her for the first time. A tall girl looking about twenty, with an athletic build. Too athletic for Cheater’s tastes. Either because of her natural figure, or because her shoulders were scrunched up too much—looking too manly—in her current situation. This could be compensated for with other virtues, but she didn’t pull that off. Her face was pretty, strictly speaking, but most men would be unable to see past the fact that her hair was completely shaved off. The earrings she wore were angular and confusing, like they were made of smelted bullets. They didn’t help.
“What are you staring at me for? Never seen a woman before? The key is in the lock. In your door.”
Once she was free, she snagged a baton as she described the situation.
“That’s two down. Two more by the entrance. If you have to shoot them, don’t you dare hit me.”
Titty Tat led Cheater through the labyrinth of the police station basement without a misstep, but at the top of the tall flight of stairs, she stopped, puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
She was tense. “I don’t know. There’s nobody here. There should be, but there’s not. Deserted.”
“Good, we can slip out quietly.”
“Slip out? You really did take a hit to the head. This is a decent-sized police station. We loot the whole thing, especially the armory.”
“You sure you didn’t get a concussion, too? This place is a vipers’ nest.”
“Yeah, an empty one. All of the cops are out on the streets. Nobody left here. We’d be wasting our luck to just leave.”
“But you have a personal cache, so you’ve got stuff to get anyway.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Quit yanking my chain.”
“What? What did I say?”
“I’m only level 17. Nobody my level is rich enough to pay to bind anything. And what would I bind anyway? Nothing’s worth it. So quit joking around and let me get to looting.”
Titty Tat moved among the corridors and cubicles, ignoring Cheater’s protests. Ten minutes later, he was so bored that he decided to just leave on his own, without saying a word.
He had no plans of adopting a traveling companion anyway, but he had planned to at least part on friendly terms. So much for that.
But something happened just then which offered a possible solution to any number of problems in his near future.
Titty Tat found the keys to the armory. Inside one unremarkable cubicle, in the top drawer of the first unremarkable desk, she found a key, and with that key she opened the safe containing all of the keys. How?
How had she found the right cubicle, the right desk, and the right drawer in this not-too-small building? Had she known? She had only looked at the others, not even touched them.
Cheater started getting ideas.
* * *
Titty was annoyed. “The homeless people under the bridge are richer than these cops. Nothing but a couple of old machine guns and pistols.”
“What were you hoping for? At least it’s something. This is just a small branch. If you want something bigger, you need the central station.”
“No, something’s wrong. I thought this was the kind of place where they kept weapons that were among the evidence against their suspects. Which sometimes means good guns.”
“Guns which our ammo doesn’t work with.”
“They’re still good. Still valuable. Fetch a good price at any stable. And I need money.”
“Everybody needs money.”
“Whatever. I’m taking the ammo, at least. I saw a police car through one of the windows. The digis don’t like to mess with police cars, usually, so we should have no trouble getting out of town. Then we’ll split up. Take as much as you can.”
Folding AK rifle, AKS-74U, shortened. Ammunition: 5.45×39mm cartridges. Condition: working order, significant wear. Additional abilities: none. Special features: simple weapon. Modifications cannot be installed on this weapon. Installed modifications: none.
Titty Tat really planned to make money on this g
arbage? Based on his experience, Cheater knew that a life trading this trash would force you onto a diet of bread and water. Stale bread. And water from the nearest puddle. The girl was poor, to be sure.
Cheater slung the rifle over his back and began to stock up on ammo.
“How do we start the car?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m no good at hot wiring, and I doubt they left the keys in the ignition.”
“We’ll have the keys. I’ll find them.”
“The same way you found the armory keys?”
She tensed again. “Yeah. So?”
“Relax, I’m not your enemy here. And I have a reason for asking. I might have work for you. Mutually profitable work.”
“What do you need?”
“How did you find the keys? Some kind of ability?”
“You know it’s not socially acceptable to ask about abilities, right?”
“I might have heard that. I don’t need to know all your secrets. Just one thing. Let’s say I drop a spore over there, in the corner. And I cover it with a rag. Could you find it?”
“Sure, but so you could.”
“Could you find it without picking up the rag?”
“Yes.”
“From how far away?”
“Look...”
“You don’t have to answer that. Especially if earning some spores doesn’t interest you.”
“How many spores are we talking?”
“This half-working gun will earn ten grapes tops. Right?”
“Depending on where you go. Some stables will give you twice that, if you bargain.”
“Fine then, twenty spores. How about a thousand instead? That’s fifty of these guns.”
“You don’t have a thousand spores.”
“Oh but I will, Tat. Trust me. So, are you interested? Or are we still splitting up when we reach the country?”
Chapter 12
Life Seven: Fatal Luck
Ever since he had started his seventh life, Cheater had been haunted by one particular aspect of his hastily-constructed loot trap. The player Executive had found them and had been blown up by the grenades underneath.
“Underneath” was the key word there. Both grenades had exploded as soon as the weight hold their levers in place had been lifted. Executive had picked up the rifle and its magazines, and then the weight of the plastic had no longer been sufficient to hold the levers down.
