"Pablo, take the handcuffs and cuff him. I'll cover you," sounded the guard's muffled whisper. "Damned automation, couldn't wait for the police to get here. They promised to be here in thirty minutes. Until then we're on our own. What if he's violent? Why did this crap have to happen on my watch?"
"Hey, you" that one was for me now, "hands behind your back!"
Behind the back means behind the back, I wasn't going to argue. There was a click of closing handcuffs and an immediate sigh of relief from the other four. They've done it. They caught the malicious criminal, cuffed him and could now go and have their coffee.
"You can sit down, but you better not try anything." Ah, so there are some decent people still around. I rolled on my side and sat down, propping my back against the capsule. By the looks of it I was in the laboratory where the prisoners were taken once they served their term.
That's how we spent the next two minutes: I sat and watched the technicians and the guard, who never took his gun off me. The whole crowd stared at me in silence, too scared to move. Although no - one of the technicians was vigorously reading something in the hand-held communicator.
"Your floor is so cold here. I'll catch a cold and die and you won't be getting any medals for that," I decided to break the long silence. "Can you please at least bring a blanket I can cover myself with?"
"Yeah, right, you don't want a coffee to go with that too?" asked the guard roughly, but was elbowed by one of the technicians.
"Peterson, the guy's got a point - sitting with your bare ass on the floor is a pain", the reading technician looked up from his device.
"Get up," he said, addressing me now. "I've scanned through your file, waste collector killer. You seem normal enough, even handed yourself in. How are you feeling, by the way?"
"I'm frozen, my hands are uncomfortable and though I may be clean I'd give a lot for a hot shower. You have no idea what it's like to live in a dusty mine for three months," was my honest response.
"Ah, so he's the one?" said the guard, surprised, and lowered his gun. "That's why I thought his face looked familiar. He was on all the channels a couple of months ago. Some mess you got yourself in, man. I know someone who works at the building management service and he said they had to do so many repairs that the officials had a panic about how to pay for it all."
"Yes, I know. They hung all that debt on me. In total I have to pay off a hundred million game gold or serve out my entire eight-year term."
The guard and the technicians even whistled on hearing this figure. I had to admit - that was some debt that I was landed with. They stayed silent for a while.
"What should we do, Roberts?" the guard asked the senior technician.
"Not much for it. You're not going to try anything funny if we take the cuffs off? They'd be a bother in the shower."
"Like I'd even think about it. Do I look like I need more trouble? I still have over seven years of time to do and have no intention of adding to that," I assured him.
"Turn around," said Roberts and unlocked the handcuffs. Peterson automatically aimed the gun at me, but a few moments later relaxed and put it back in the holster.
"The shower is straight ahead, the soap and the rest is provided. Everything's disposable. Hurry up. In and out."
I never thought that a shower could provide that much pleasure. I stood under the water and relished every moment and every drop, until they started banging on the cabin and telling me to get out. I changed into the underwear offered me by the machine, returned to the common room and sat on the sofa, wrapping myself in the blanket that was on it. Now you can send me anywhere, I'm ready.
"Why did you leave the game?" asked Roberts, perching himself on a chair nearby.
"How should I know? The mine where I was working had a Dungeon with a portal. I jumped in the portal and ended up in some technical location. Then there was a flash of light and I was here. That's it."
"So you're the one behind it all? You sure got all our admins in a panic. There was a lot of swearing going back and forth on the intranet - they were trying to find out who left around an entrance into the technical location." For a while Roberts was silent and then went on: "But you did well. Not everyone can earn Respect in three months; just a couple of people did that, in my memory. And completing that Dungeon without any hints ensured that all five of you gained a place in Barliona's history. All the top guilds are incensed that some prisoners have made it into the pioneers' hall of fame. On the forums they are saying that several clans swore to hunt you down - meaning that you'll all end up in a clan one way or another: either as members or on their blacklist."
"What do you mean, 'all five of us'? There were only four," I asked in surprise.
"Well, yes, just four went through the Dungeon, but the achievement was earned by five. That's what it said in the achievement. You figure out how that's happened yourself."
Karachun! I never removed him from the group! He remained there in the frames. This meant that Karachun also earned this achievement along with the heightened interest of all the leading players of this world. Some 'favor' we did him, and ourselves too, for that matter. Players like Hellfire from Phoenix don't like taking no for an answer. He'd offer you to join his clan so that he could add this Dungeon to his collection in the race between first pioneers, and if you refused, he'd be very upset. Being on the black list of the top guilds is a pretty unpleasant business - they kill you at every opportunity and you won't be able to buy anything from them, even at an auction. There were probably some other downsides I didn't know about, but which could be found in the manuals. Stop! How does Roberts know that I and Mahan are one and the same? It's a prosecutable offence to dig up this information!
"Roberts, where did you get the information that I went through a Dungeon or that I've earned Respect in three months?"
"You're a bit slow not to figure this out yourself. You said that you were in a Dungeon. Out of all the mines only Dolma has a Dungeon. That's one thing. The other is that only people with Respect get sent to Dolma, as a test to see if you're ready to work in a team. Moreover, prisoners from all the parallel mines get sent there."
"By the way, what are these parallel mines?" I asked Roberts. "I met a couple of guys on Dolma who were from a parallel Pryke mine. But why?"
"Because it's unprofitable to keep more than 250 prisoners in one mine. That would mean weakened control. And multiplying mines isn't an answer either. Why take up the extra space? That's why they introduced parallel ones - we have to put you lot somewhere, in the end. They have the same governor and the same quota collector, but the rest is separate. It's simpler that way."
"All right, but that still doesn't explain how you connected me and the Shaman."
"Ah, yes. Aside from what I said, there's the main thing. Just think how this sounds: Shaman Mahan, who entered the hall of fame and prisoner Daniel Mahan, who's been through a Dungeon. You really think it's so hard to guess that you're him?"
I'm such a fool! My bad to start suspecting a good guy like that of anything.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think properly. You mentioned hints: is there some way for me to get access to them? After all, I've left the mine now and will be living in the main gameworld, where you're totally lost without the manuals."
"You may as well ask for access to the forums," laughed Roberts. "Of all the documentation, prisoners only have access to the legislative statutes. Although..."
I missed a heartbeat as I waited for the decision. If Roberts helped me, the game would immediately become considerably easier.
"If you're brought a new capsule model, it contains access to manuals and the internal game forums by default. It's just that for prisoners, it's disabled with a jammer. And it's not a program, but a small nib in the capsule hull... It might even get knocked out during transport..." said Roberts, staring into space, but then snapped out of it and went on: "I owe you a thank you, by the way, for helping me to spend time with my grandson!"
I gave Robe
rts a look of surprise. What's he on about?
"When you fouled up that lake, my children remembered that their old man lived out of town. They came to visit straight away, although I've been inviting them with little success for three years before that - asking them to bring the kid and let him run around in the grass. They're making him all high-tech - he even goes to the bathroom with a handheld and he's just four! He should be playing with blocks and soldiers, but he's chattering about image manipulation. They're really spoiling the kid! Well, never mind, I've lost track of time with you here. You need to go rest," said Roberts, getting up from the chair. I wrapped myself in the blanket, got comfortable and closed my eyes, unexpectedly and immediately dropping into sleep.
"Where is he?" someone's worried voice woke me up.
"He's asleep, where else would he be? He's spent three months in the capsule, so he's catching up on his sleep after all that time," Roberts's voice replied.
"What do you mean 'catching up on his sleep'?"
"Ah, it seems you don't know this. The in-game sleep doesn't provide adequate psychological relaxation, so every three months prisoners are disconnected and allowed to have normal sleep. Ten hours of sleep is just enough for the next three months. As far as the subject himself is concerned, he just suddenly wakes up the next day in the game."
"So what's with this one, then?"
"That's not our problem. For some reason his capsule got disconnected from the game and the automated systems transported him to the rehabilitation centre and even broke the lid during transportation, dammit. So we're waiting for a new capsule and installation technician. Then we'll put the prisoner back in and..."
I didn't hear the rest. My eyes closed and I was once again in the kingdom of Morpheus.
"Get up," I was once again brought back to reality. For a few moments I had to fight to open my eyes. It was so good to just get some sleep, without hurrying anywhere or thinking about handing in the daily quota. Beautiful! I looked around the room with sleepy eyes and then focused on the people standing next to me. Bah! I knew one of them! That's the technician who put me in the capsule. He was the one cracking jokes at the time: 'in you jump', and all that. Now I could have a better look at him - despite an ordinary face that you could come across anywhere, his appearance made me smile. First of all, the unbuttoned lab coat had a sweater underneath. In the three months of my imprisonment little had changed in the world of fashion - this sweater was very expensive and very popular among the progressive youth. It could be worn at minus forty as well as plus thirty degrees, as the internal temperature control system ensured comfort within that range. The sweater could change color and texture at the owner's whim, and could even feel different - from smooth to fluffy. Aside from the sweater, Peter (as his electronic ID told me) wore classic trousers. The trousers were thoroughly ironed with creases and tucked into old, dirty and worn army boots. If each thing looked normal by itself, together they created an unforgettable image. Knowing modern technicians, perpetually bearded, in ordinary sweaters, work trousers and boots like these, I concluded that Peter had made a considerable effort to dress up. At least, on top. But he had never got around to the bottom half, or had just forgotten about it in the process. The fact that he was getting ready for something could be seen from his fairly good haircut, which must have been done in a salon several days ago. Why several days? Because the two- or three-day-old stubble completed the image of a technician getting ready for a date of some sort. Despite his somewhat comical look, you could guess that something unpleasant had happened to Peter. The vacant stare, frozen facial expression and the fact that he bumped into every available corner as he left the room, all pointed to that. I even became curious about what had happened to him.
Surrounded by the police, I entered the room where the technicians were already preparing the capsule for me. So my unexpected odyssey into freedom had come to an end. The policemen sat themselves on the chairs by the entrance and I headed for the capsule.
"Ah, you're here already," said Peter absent-mindedly, when I stood myself nearby and coughed quietly. "Take off your capsule and get into the clothes."
It looked like something really did happen to this guy. How could they send him to work in a condition like that? Unless I was mistaken, every morning all the technical personnel underwent express-examination, and, depending on its results, were issued the permission to work. The Corporation didn't keep any 'zombies', that is employees who'd play all night and then come to work to catch up on their sleep. By the looks of it in his current condition he'll end up calibrating my capsule so 'well' that I'll end up inside some goblin's body. I looked questioningly at his partner.
"Take no notice," was the reply to my silent question. "It's just our Petruccio's been through some tough times. His girl dumped him about an hour ago. Just before we came here. Yes, Petruccio? You want me to toss you that spanner? And pass me that thing as well please."
I see. So if one guy was struck by misfortune, the other would be making fun of it. What a 'wonderful' partner to get stuck with.
"Peter, is everything all right with you? You're not looking too well. What if you make a mess of the settings and I end up 'enjoying' it for the next eight years."
"Yes. No. It's all right. Yes. Everything is fine," he said, somewhat absent-mindedly. He then swore quietly, reset the settings and started again.
"Peter! Just look at you - you better leave off all this playing around with the settings!"
"Leave... Leave! Leaving!!!! I've had it with everyone!" shouted Peter. "I don't leave people, they leave me! I've been going out with a girl for three months and thought she liked me. I thought she was interested in my work, because she asked about it from time to time, When I told her that I'll be putting the 'waste collector killer' himself into the capsule, she even asked me to give you a present - to let you choose your own name. And then what? Today, when I was called out here, I looked at the prisoner information and then called her, because I thought it would make her happy to know that the prisoner to whom she made the gift of the name was about to enter the main gameworld. I thought I'd make her happy... When she heard this news about you, she said that it was all over between us. Why? What did I do wrong? Can you tell me?"
I looked at the technician in surprise, getting myself more comfortable in the capsule. So then, the ability to choose my name wasn't the choice of the technician, but the idea of some flighty girl. Flighty?
"What was her name?" I thought to continue the conversation, but Peter silently turned and walked away from the capsule. Yeah, poor guy. I know for myself: when you get dumped, you can even lose interest in life. And he's got a crappy work partner as well.
"Marina," his partner replied for him. "Personally, my feeling is that she left him because of you. Of course that's none of my business, but I've been trying to get Petruccio back to normal for the best part of an hour now. He even thought to jump under a car once he finished talking to her. When we get back I'll take him to a psychologist; he's my partner after all - we've worked together for some years now. But I have a strong hunch that you've had a hand in this. She even asked for you to be given the chance to choose your own name and then left Pete as soon as she heard about you. Is there anything you'd like to say?"
Dammit! Was it really the same girl?
"You don't happen to have her picture on you? I know a certain Marina, who's very similar to this one in the way she does things. She also ditched me just before I went to prison."
The technician turned the screen of his communicator and I saw Peter embracing a rather attractive girl. The same one whose wager got me stuck in Barliona for eight years.
"No, that's not the one," I spoke in neutral tones, trying not to betray the agitation that engulfed me. "She's pretty. Maybe you should tell Peter to fight for her? What if something happened to her: a bad mood or she got up on the wrong side of the bed? You never know with women."
"That's what I intend to do. On our way back I'll try
to talk some sense into him and snap him out of it. That he's started screaming is already a good sign - if he's visibly taken offence it means he's coming back to normal! Well, good luck to you, man," said Peter's partner, put the last pipe in place and closed the lid. There was a flash of light and I was back in Barliona.
I opened my eyes and found myself inside a room. I had a quick glance at my stats, my bag and my character - everything was still there. I held my breath as I went into the settings and selected the forum. Before it was inaccessible, but now...
Welcome to the in-game forum of Barliona. Please read the rules...
Thank you Roberts! A big heartfelt thanks!
The room contained a small table and two chairs. 'One is probably for me', I thought and tried to get myself comfortable in it. If I'm correct about the sequence of events, now I would be meeting the committee for parole from the mine; they'll read me the riot act and decide what settlement to send me to.
Right, while no-one's here I could do some thinking. So it appeared that Marina was looking for me. But what for? To pay her debt and become my girl for a month? Yeah, right, that's really 'essential' in the virtual world. Barliona had firm restrictions on physical sexual contact between players. You could not even completely strip yourself: loin cloths, as well as chest wraps for women, could never come off. The only exception for this were special Tolerance Houses, located in each large city. Local brothels. In these a player could do anything his perverted mind wished - only imitators worked in these houses. But if two players voluntarily entered such a house, they could have contact with each other. Truth be told, I've been to such places myself a few times, especially when I started to play. Elf maids, dwarven lasses, worgen ladies and orc women... Everything exotic! According to official statistics, in Barliona the brothels were the second most popular destinations, after the Dungeons. The figures, however, didn't specify that the comparison was made between only one Tolerance House and all of the region's Dungeons.
Survival Quest (The Way of the Shaman: Book #1) Page 27
