Labyrinth of reflections lor-1

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  – Gee, I like you, – says the guy, scratching his stomach, sunburned skin peeling off, – Hell, I really like you! Hee-hee… scary, huh? No, I’m not working here… well, I do but not like this… be careful not to be suddenly liked by those two by the water!

  I start feeling dizzy already, I squeeze out a pathetic smile, take a bottle of brut from the ice filled bucket and a couple of high wine-glasses.

  – Here, look… I was tanning too much yesterday! – says the guy in the meantime, tearing off a long piece of peeling skin. – I had a bet with the girls that I’ll be sunburned, they didn’t want to believe me. They come this morning – and I’m really burned!

  He pushes the pitiful remains of his hide under my nose.

  – Cool, huh? Worked like hell all night making tan simulation. I should try to offer it to somebody, they’ll really grab it from me together with my hands… but I won’t give my hands to them!

  I nod hastily and run away with my trophies. Vika waits for me choking the laughter.

  – Who is that? – I ask lowering myself on the chair. The soft whisper of waves by the shore seems to be the greatest bless.

  Vika continues to laugh, then becomes serious.

  – This is our computer genius, the hacker and the guard, the master of hard and soft… You can call him Computer Wiz or just Wiz. He likes that. Just don’t call him Zuko.

  – Zuko?

  – Yup. He loves those instant beverages: “Zuko”, “Spreem”, other chemical stuff. The girls call him that, it really hurts him.

  – But why is he… so weird? – I ask carefully.

  – I Dunn… Maybe he scares our gays off, maybe he’s really like that.

  I examine the guys by the water askance and they also watch me discussing something. Then one of them is slapped on the lips slightly by the other one and turns away in hurt feelings.

  I start feeling uncomfortable but Vika continues to smile and I ask with forced curiosity:

  – Why would you need the guys? Can’t the girls always manage the job?

  – Sure. Remember the blue album?

  I remember. The devil tempts me and I ask:

  – And where do you keep those she-goats?

  We laugh together and the tenseness disappears.

  – This is a program, – confesses Vika, – We tried to put on animals’ bodies but the behavior turns out inadequate. The customers for that don’t happen often but at least we have everything. Any weirdness.

  I pour the champaign into the glasses, we touch them.

  – Good, – says Vika.

  – Yeah, not bad, – I agree putting down the empty glass.

  – “Abrau-Durso” is never bad. It’s just for you – “not bad”. I just had a doubt how will you act in such a company.

  – Hm, what’s so special? – I ask in the tone of somebody who walks in the company of gays and prostitutes every day.

  Vika thinks for a while.

  – No, you don’t think so yet, – she says, – But it’s okay. The most important is that you at least express agreement. It means, you’ll make yourself to believe in it later.

  – May I? – Computer Wiz stands by the table, somehow weirdly bent over and with a pleading grimace, – aren’t you discussing me? I hope don’t interrupt? May I sit?

  – Sure, – sighs Vika looking doomed. The Wiz plops down on the empty chair, gets the glass and one more bottle from behind his back in a juggler’s gesture: some kind of banana liquor.

  – Vikochka dear, thanks! – he says, – I started to think I’m doomed to perish alone! Want some?

  Vika fills her glass with champaign in an answer, I also decline the liquor. The Wiz pours it in his glass.

  – For our acquaintance! – he proclaims, – I’m Computer Wiz!

  – I’m Gunslinger, – I say mechanically.

  – Oy! – The Wiz leans back on the chair, – Don’t kill me! It’s you who keeps “Labyrinth” so excited for the last two days, right? Vika, my congratulations, you’ve befriended the cool doomer! He makes everybody cry! He kills and kills, to the left and to the right!

  – Is it true? – asks Vika.

  I just nod.

  – I’d never imagine.

  – Well, I guess I should surprise you too.

  – Hey Gunslinger, don’t make too big mess in “Labyrinth”! – exclaims the Wiz, – Otherwise I’ll take a leave from Madam, will move myself over there and will rip everything into shreds! I’m a peaceful guy usually but it’s a nightmare when somebody pisses me off! Hold me three, two will fail… I remember once…

  – Wiz, – says Vika, – We were talking, we have a serious talk. Could you please chat with Tina or Lena?

  The Wiz nods sadly.

  – It’s always like this… Okay-okay, I’m leaving. Nobody likes me…

  – I like you very much but Tina is depressed since yesterday. Cheer her up, I know you can do it.

  – No problems! – Wiz brightens up. He picks up his bottle and in a dancing walk moves over to the table where the dark-haired splendid girl drinks vodka intently.

  I just shake my head.

  – This is our own small world here, – says Vika, – A pretty quiet and peaceful one. By the way, all girls come hear in their main bodies, not the ones we put on for the customers.

  – So this is your main body in virtuality?

  – Yes.

  I make the next step.

  – And the name too? Your name is Vika?

  – In the Deep – yes. That’s the only reason why I allowed you to come: you guessed it right.

  She smiles sadly.

  – In the beginning I even thought that you’re some sort of a spy, a hacker or a diver, that you had identified my personality…

  My heart starts beating hard.

  – And what about now? Do you still think so?

  Vika shrugs:

  – Who knows? But I like you. I just want everything to coincide this way by itself… in a wonderful and beautiful way.

  I don’t have time to reply, the curtain on the door opens and the girl’s face pokes in for a second:

  – Natasha, Tina, your call. The green and the yellow albums.

  The splendid girl by whom the Wiz have already made himself comfortable, throws the bottle at the door. Vika rises a little.

  – Alice! – she says quietly but clearly, – Substitute Tina!

  The girl by the nearby table nods but Tina raises her hands in protest,

  – Vika, I’m alright.

  She talks through the interpreter program but even through it one can hear feelings of tiredness and anger.

  – I’ll work as a kid, it’s okay… That Cap pissed me off yesterday. { a nick here } One of the gays stands up and quickly moves between the tables, he hugs Tina’s shoulders, whispers something to her and gently makes her sit, then looks at Vika questionably.

  – All right Anjei, – she agrees, – Thanks.

  The gay and one of the girls exit. Vika sits down and drinks her champaign in one shot, then suddenly says in a hissing whisper,

  – Assholes. All you males are assholes.

  – Who is Cap? – I ask.

  – A customer. A constant one. I usually work with him myself but yesterday… I was busy.

  – With me?

  – Yes, – she replies sharply. – The girls shouldn’t work with him, they are out of themselves afterwards.

  – What does he need?

  – The red album.

  I recollect yesterday’s evening.

  – I haven’t seen that one.

  – It’s an inclusion into the black album. It is not shown just to anybody. – Vika rises, – Damned… Sorry Lenia.

  I rise too.

  – Did you want to invite me somewhere?

  – Yes…

  – So go ahead!

  Back in the lobby, I look around expecting to see Madam but she doesn’t show up. I call the taxi and tell the address: “Three Piglets”. Vika cool
s down slowly. I want to ask her about Cap and the red album but stay silent. I can’t. Not yet.

  – So, I showed you how we live, – says Vika, – Interesting, isn’t it?

  – It’s okay, – I say, – Not too bad.

  – Okay… – Vika takes cigarettes from her purse, clicks her lighter, – Not too bad…

  I don’t like when girls smoke, even if in virtuality.

  – Vika, what did you expect of me? Screaming “How terrible!”? I’m not a hypocrite. Raptures? I can’t see any reason for that either.

  She touches my hand lightly.

  – Sorry Lenia. I’m little worried for girls. You know, you’re a random customer. You were fleeing from pursuit, ran into the brothel, went crazy on my picture… Sorry. You don’t have anything to do with that.

  We approach “Three Piglets”. There’s no ‘rush hours’ in virtuality: zone time canceled this term but some random fluxes and refluxes happen. For instance, now the hall is packed.

  We elbow our way to the bar and I shout, “Hi Andrei!” to the bartender.

  – Hi-hi… – says Andrei, giving a glass of cocktail to somebody, – And who are you?

  Wow, it’s really him, not a program.

  – Leonid, – I reply.

  Andrei knits his brow, he never saw me in this body and makes precautions.

  – Hey man! – I say in a scary whisper, – What’s wrong? Tortured by taxes again? The racket filched your file stuff? Just tell, we’ll find…

  Andrei leans over the bar and shouts:

  – Ah! Haven’t recognized you! Just look how you’ve grown! A real man!

  Vika hesitates nearby patiently, obviously feeling out of place. Just like I did in the brothel’s recreation zone.

  – You want it as usual? – asks Andrei and outstretches his hand towards the bottles.

  – Gin-Tonic, fifty-fifty, – I smirk, – It’s me, it’s me. We’d like to sit somewhere above the river. Alone.

  Andrei frowns slightly and looks under the bar, at the terminal.

  – Are all channels busy? – I’m horrified.

  – We’ll find one for you, – decides Andrei. He pushes some button, – A penny deal… Oh, what a perfect timing! Sudden disconnect, one channel’s free! Go ahead, quick!

  I grab Vika’s hand and pull her to the stone wall of the restaurant. In the tambour I order:

  – Individual space for us two. No access to anyone else.

  – Acknowledged, – whispers the ceiling, – No access. You’re guests of the restaurant. “Three Piglets” wishes you a nice rest.

  – How cool, – says Vika ironically, – And you’re their permanent customer?

  – Yes.

  I don’t tell her all the tiny details, like about that little diver’s fraud when I found and kicked some racketeers’ butts. They stole original financial files from restaurant’s owner. If I failed to persuade that gang of undereducated hackers, Andrei would have to fork up quite an amount… either for racket or for Deeptown’s tax inspection. But in this case… everything ended in peace, even racketeers were happy… to get out of this so easily.

  We enter the autumn.

  Vika stops for a second looking around, picks decayed leaf from the ground, crumbles it in her hands, touches the tree trunk.

  I wait. Usually I waver the same way when I enter unfamiliar virtual spaces. I also usually leave the deep to evaluate the real look of the landscape. Vika can’t do that but spatial designers must have their own methods.

  – Beautiful, – she whispers, – Maybe Carl Siegsgourd himself worked. I’m envious.

  – Yours is not worse. – I console her but Vika shakes her head.

  – Not in everything, he has an excellent sense of measure, while I can be carried away easily.

  She kicks fallen leaves in childish manner, they slowly fly up and fall down again. Their flights are over already.

  – Let’s go, – I take her hand and lead her to the river. The table is laid for a banquet. The specialty of the house – fried pork ‘a-la Piglet’ is on the table in a big plate, also my favorite mulled wine and decent set of other wines.

  Vika doesn’t look at the table, she stands by the steep looking in the distance. I stand by her side. The stream washes over leaves of a fallen tree on the opposite bank. Looks like it was a storm lately. This space is alive too, just as Vika’s mountains.

  – Thank you, – says Vika and I feel great. I think I yet should show her the sea shore and the part of old Moscow that are adjoined to the restaurant but all this – later. I’m sure that we’ll yet have time for that.

  Otherwise why is everything?

  – You know, I leave my space very seldom, – says Vika, – I don’t know why.

  She hesitates, then goes on:

  – Maybe I’m just afraid to meet those who comes to us… to see them as the ones they can be– kind, cheerful, nice people.

  – Why?

  – Then it’ll be true that all people are bifacial. You know, we’re a garbage can Leonid. The one in which all shit which was accumulated in peoples’ souls is dumped. Fear, aggression, unsatisfied desires, disdain to themselves. I think your “Labyrinth” is the same in this way.

  – It’s not ‘mine’. I’m there for business.

  – Then it’s easier for you. But who comes to us? Milksops who can’t wait to become men… who grew tired of being ones, some guys pissed off by their girlfriends with a wish to swagger… Some of them come and try all albums. They say: “We must try everything in this life.”…

  Again I restrain myself and don’t ask why the hell does she work there then.

  – Why do we drag the worst that we have in the future with us? – says Vika

  – Because it does exist and we can’t do anything about it. Just imagine that everyone around us are gentlemen in tuxedos, ladies in evening dresses, everybody speak in clever beautiful words, are nice and civilized…

  Vika laughs softly,

  – I don’t believe in this.

  – Neither do I. No society change, be it technical, social or a complex one like the Deep, ever changed individual moral principles. Everything was postulated: from disdain towards the bond-slaves to brotherhood and equality, from ascetism to complete license. But the choice was always made individually. It’s stupid to say that virtuality have made people worse than they were and it’s naive to hope that it’ll make them better. We were given an instrument and it depends on us whether we’ll build using it or crush skulls.

  – Wrong instrument, Lenia. Everybody understand that they are really at home or at work, sitting by a computer in a helmet or just gazing at the screen and therefore everything is allowed. It’s a game, a mirage.

  – You’re speaking like Alexandrians.

  – No, I don’t like their approach either. I have no wish to turn into the stream of electronic impulses.

  – Vika… – I put my hand on her shoulder, – It’s not worthy to guess or worry. The Deep is only 5 years old. It’s yet a child. It grabs everything it can reach, speaks nonsense, laughs and cries irrelevantly. We have no idea what it’ll grow into, we don’t know whether it’ll have brothers and sisters that will be better. We just must give it some time.

  – We need to give it a goal, Lenia. We have dived into this world without defining for ourselves what have we left behind. Being unable to live in one world we have created another one and we don’t know where to go, what to aspire to.

  – The goal will appear, – I say without great confidence, – Again, just allow it some time… let the Deep to become aware of itself.

  – But what if it did already? – says Vika mockingly, – …and became alive? Like in imagination of those people who never been here? Maybe there are people here among us that don’t exist in real world? Reflections of void? What if you or me don’t really exist at all? And what if all our ideas of reality are just fantasies of the Net that became alive?

  Suddenly I feel scared.

  No
, I don’t think that I don’t really exist.

  And I’m almost sure about Vika.

  But I think I know the candidate for being the ‘reflection of void’…

  Vika goes on as if wishing to drive me crazy:

  – Just imagine how it can happen. Hundreds of thousands or maybe millions of computers are already plugged into the Net permanently. Flows of information rush between the continents, accumulate on different hosts/routers, in machine memory. Nonexistent spaces live according to their own laws, change. Leaves are falling, our steps leave traces, our voices start avalanches. Information copies over, becomes tangled, mixes. Docile programs create plaster casts, shells but who knows how soon those shells will be filled with real intelligence?

  – Any hacker will die of laughter listening to you, – I say in a ‘wooden’ voice.

  – I’m not hacker. I just see what is going on around and I try to imagine what would somebody who came from nowhere think if he appears in Deeptown being sure that he is alive and real? Grimacing buffoons? People running around in “Labyrinth” and cheerfully killing each other? Psychos having fun in brothels? Everything that exists in reality we have here too. The sky and the Sun, mountains and seas, cities and palaces. Spaces within spaces, the mixture of times and nations, merits and vices. Everything! Everything and nothing. We need only what we hate in real life. Death, blood, fake beauty and borrowed wisdom. So what might the Deep think of people if it learns how to think?

  I stay silent, remembering Unfortunate who kills monsters with a pistol but never shoots at players. Who doesn’t tell his name and address. Who have spent two days in the virtuality already but his tongue doesn’t falter of thirst and his feet don’t stagger. Who doesn’t understand that the kid that flees from mutants is nothing more than a hundred kilobytes of a program on the 33rd level’s server.

  I remember the words of Man Without Face: “Something have changed now.” This was the direct hint, together with memoirs about ‘Invisible Boss’ and ‘Lost Point’. Something had happened that doesn’t have any analogies except in the folklore.

  I start to shiver.

  Accidents can’t happen fifteen times in a row – “Labyrinth“‘s divers would rescue Unfortunate… if the Net itself wouldn’t resist that. There’s nowhere to get Unfortunate out, he lives in this world only. He’s chained to “Labyrinth“‘s world, the world of shooting and betrayal, blood and ruins. He dies and resurrects not understanding what happens to him.