Restart_LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  He gestured to me to stop, opened the door and shouted, “Misha!”

  After the briefest of delays, his assistant appeared in the sauna. “Sir?”

  “I want you to call Hermann and tell him to come now. It’s urgent.”

  Misha made himself scarce. Valiadis rose. “I suggest we move to the bar. They make good detox cocktails here-” he looked at me askance.

  “I’m Phil, sir.”

  “Nice to meet you, Phil. Come on, then.”

  Your Reputation with Nicholas “the Duke” Valiadis has improved!

  Current Reputation: Indifference 5/30

  Soon, a certain Alex Hermann arrived at the club. He blushed, shifting from one foot to the other, as Valiadis showered him with insults, wrestling from him the admission that yes, their suppliers indeed charged them extra for packaging materials.

  Valiadis turned to me. “You think you can supply our demand?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied, praying it was so.

  “Very well,” he glanced at his watch. “I need to be going. Alex and Phil, please exchange your details. Alex, I’m pretty sure the company CEO would like to see you personally, but I’d like you to speak with them in his presence,” he nodded at me.

  Our eyes met. “Mr. Valiadis, may I?” I asked, jumping at the opportunity.

  He leaned toward me.

  “I just wondered,” I whispered, “if the name of Mr. Samuel Panikoff rings any bells?”

  Valiadis startled ever so slightly. He gulped but didn’t reply. As he stepped back, I noticed a barely discernible nod.

  Finally, the big boss was gone, leaving me with Alex.

  I could see he was pretty pissed off. He didn’t like me. Still, you wouldn’t be able to tell it by the way he spoke.

  “Phil, here’s my card. When can I meet your employers?”

  I took a cab back to the office. As I rode, a new system message was bestowed on me,

  Your Luck has improved!

  Current Luck: 7

  Experience points received for improving a main characteristic: 1000

  Thanks to the message, I now felt I was moving in the right direction. I was bursting with confidence. The workday was nearly over. I absolutely had to see Pavel or the company’s CEO before my deadline expired.

  I was in luck. Pavel was still there.

  “May I speak with you?” I asked.

  He shook a dismissive head, preempting my possible excuses. “Please spare me the details. I won’t give you one more chance. Nor another day.”

  “I don’t need another day. I’ve just sold us to J-Mart. A long-term contract on our entire range. They want to meet up with you and the CEO now. They’ve just fired their previous supplier. They expect us to start deliveries tomorrow morning.”

  If you beach a shark, it’ll be just as helpless as some humble small fry. It’ll be squirming on the shore opening its toothy jaws and moving its gills but despite its predatory fame it’ll still remain a fish out of water. I watched Pavel open and close his mouth, gulping for air. His Interest bar had soared to a full 100%.

  Still, he recovered quickly. “Follow me,” he rose, put on his business jacket and strode toward the CEO’s office. I walked closely behind, followed by the workers and trainees’ stares. Cyril gave me a wink. I winked back at him.

  Pavel took me to the CEO’s office and gave him a brief run-down of the situation. He finished by saying, “I think you should be the one talking to them. It’s your level.”

  “With whom did you speak?” the fit, sinewy CEO asked me.

  “I first spoke to Valiadis, who then introduced me to Hermann. I heard him tell Hermann to make out a contract with you.”

  “Just look at him!” Pavel enthused. “How on earth did you meet Valiadis?”

  I shrugged. “Pure luck, I suppose.”

  Pavel tensed. “Are you sure? You’re not making this up, are you?”

  I gave him Hermann’s business card.

  New system messages promptly informed me of my improved Reputation with both. It was still Indifference but quite close to Amicability.

  “Point taken,” the CEO chuckled. “Well done. Should I give him a call, then?”

  He picked up his phone, then gave me a long look.

  “I could call them myself,” I said, “but I think Hermann wanted to discuss all the details with you.”

  Squinting shortsightedly, the man (name: Mr. Peter Ivanov, age: 48, current status: Chief Executive Officer at Ultrapak Ltd) began dialing Hermann’s number.

  Then we went to meet Hermann and two more execs at the J-Mart HQ. There were three of us: Pavel, Mr. Ivanov and myself. An hour into the talks, the parties shook hands on the deal.

  I very much doubted they normally closed new contracts with such speed. Or the fact that Hermann’s presence would normally be required. He must have been there on personal orders from Valiadis.

  I could almost see him ask Hermann at their meeting the next morning, “How was that thing with the packaging deal?” And Hermann would reply, “It’s all done, sir. We’ve signed the contract and received the first delivery already. That’ll give us a saving of hundreds of millions a year. Our security team is currently investigating the old buyers. Two-timing rats!”

  Everybody was happy. With the exception of the bribe-taking buyers and their associates, of course.

  Two teams of company lawyers worked on the contract until late at night. None of the workers and trainees dared leave before the top brass. I was starving. I wanted to pop out to grab something quick to eat but Pavel didn’t let me. He wanted me to stay in the office. He probably wanted me to watch every stage of the contract making, learning from the pros.

  It was already past 10 p.m. when Mr. Ivanov walked out of his office, holding two bottles of good single malt whisky.

  Pavel joined him. “May I have your attention, please? Phil, will you come over here?”

  Can’t say I was pleased. I hate being the center of attention.

  “Tonight we celebrate!” Pavel announced. “Let’s have a quick drink and then we’ll go to a restaurant for a nice meal. It’s on the company. Mr. Ivanov, your turn to speak.”

  “Dear colleagues... and friends,” the CEO paused and cleared his throat. “Our company has just arrived at a new level by getting an exclusive contract with J-Mart. I don’t need to tell you what it means to us all. And what’s even funnier, the person who closed it is our new trainee! It’s his first day at work! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Phil!”

  I’d have loved to say that his last words were drowned out by a standing ovation. They weren’t. A few unenthusiastic claps was all I received — and even that was probably because I’d earned them all a free dinner.

  “Pavel, where are those bottles?” Mr. Ivanov concluded. Everybody sprang into action, lining up with plastic cups in their hands.

  What worried me was that I hadn’t yet received a “Quest completed!” message. According to the game, the One-Day Chance quest was still active. I asked Pavel if my trial period was over.

  He faltered, then replied cheerfully, “Well, what do you think? Tomorrow we’ll put you on the payroll.”

  Why tomorrow, I wondered. All the HR people were here, congratulating Mr. Ivanov and toasting their success.

  Pavel left me. I stood whisky in hand, not knowing what to do with myself.

  Finally, I saw Marina sulking in the far corner. I walked over to her.

  “Hi,” I said. “Why aren’t you celebrating?”

  “Ah, it’s you,” she mouthed. “Congratulations. Well done. Wish I could say the same.”

  “Why, whassup?”

  She sighed, ignoring my question. Both her Mood and her Interest in the conversation were nearing zero.

  I left her alone. I could see she would have loved to have gone home but felt obliged to stick with the crowd and keep the corporate spirit.

  Greg left his group of sales reps and walked over to me.

  “So how was your d
ay?” I asked him.

  “Congratulations,” he said dryly, overcoming his jealousy. We clinked our plastic cups. I thanked him and he returned to his group.

  His group? He hadn’t even quit his old job yet! Selling those windows or whatever it was. And he was already friends with everybody else!

  I caught their sideways glances and overheard a few whispers.

  My boss’ praise had done its job, alienating everybody against me. I received a chain of warning messages, informing me of loss of Reputation with virtually all of my new workmates.

  How were you supposed to work in a team whose every member envied and despised you?

  And what bonuses could I expect from today’s sale if I wasn’t even officially hired?

  “Hello!” Pavel called, attracting everybody’s attention. “We’re all going to the Tsar’s Grill now. Dinner’s on the firm!”

  Everybody got their stuff and began leaving the office in small groups. I walked down the stairs with them and waited outside as they got into their cars and left.

  Five minutes later, I was standing on the street alone.

  Chapter Fifteen. Only Human

  “Late last night and the night before,

  Tommyknockers, Tommyknockers

  knocking at my door.

  I want to go out, don't know if I can

  'cuz I'm so afraid

  of the Tommyknocker man.”

  Stephen King, The Tommyknockers

  IN A GAME, a character’s main and secondary characteristics have a very discriminatory relationship. Intellect can affect one’s magic and mana numbers; Strength can add to one’s damage and load capacity while Agility improves your attack speed and dodging chances. But in a game, there’s no way Strength can affect Intellect, neither can Stamina improve Agility. You just can’t do it.

  Life is different. You don’t need an interface to know that. In real life, a person’s body and their personality have a much more intimate bond than a player’s avatar and the actual person controlling it.

  In life, good Perception Skills depend on one’s health. Smoking prevents you from enjoying the entire plethora of tastes and smells that surround you. Good eyesight allows you to notice things unavailable to a bespectacled geek. You can’t have good health if your stamina is low but here, stamina isn’t just a number on the life bar. It’s your heart and your blood vessels, strong and sufficiently leveled up. A healthy mind in a healthy body, indeed! Apart from several honorable exceptions, most inventions and works of art in human history have been created by healthy people between thirty and forty — that is to say, at the peak of their brain activity.

  And now I could see it all in my own interface. A 100% full Self-Control bar allowed one to remain cool under pressure. Ditto for the Confidence bar: at 100%, you just didn’t question your own actions and decisions.

  Now, however, my Self-Control was deep in the yellow. What had just happened to me was so unfair.

  Low Self-Control numbers logically resulted in low Confidence. So should I even go to that restaurant? What was the point? Could they have left me behind on purpose? Maybe they’d already lost all interest in me?

  Funny, really: I had a piece of state-of-the-art software uploaded to my head, with all the knowledge of and insight into people’s actions and their attitude towards me. And still there I was, standing alone in the rain like some starved loser from an old movie while my workmates were stuffing their faces in the warmth of an expensive restaurant, celebrating my sale.

  They weren’t even my workmates, come to think about it. All the other trainees had already signed their work contracts, albeit for a trial period. Everyone but me.

  I didn’t have to join them, of course. I could always wallow in self-pity, feeling sorry for myself. Look at me: I’d done the impossible! Where was my well-deserved work contract and a seat in the CEO’s limousine?

  Oh no. Whining wouldn’t get me anywhere. I should stop suspecting them of trying to rip me off. Pointless seeing enemies in my future co-workers. ‘Life isn’t fair,’ yeah right. Enough. As Martha would have said, this wasn’t a productive tactic.

  A productive tactic would be to switch my overworked imagination off and go to the restaurant. So they’d left me behind, big deal. They weren’t obliged to chaperone me around. They’d been all pretty drunk already, anyway. I was invited. I knew the address. What was my problem, then? Joining them or not was entirely my choice.

  I suppressed my uneasiness, feeling pretty foul as I did so. My wounded pride wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  I left the safety of the doorway and offered my face to the rain. With my arms spread wide, I enjoyed the moment. I didn’t give a damn about my workmates’ jealousy. I couldn’t care less about my bosses’ lack of consideration. Right, so I hadn’t made any friends today. But at least I’d done what I’d said I would. I’d made it. Never mind I hadn’t closed the quest. And even if I lost today’s bonus, what did that matter? If I’d done it today, I could do it again.

  I smiled to the rain which at the moment epitomized the entire world to me — good and bad, kind and evil, ugly and beautiful. Suddenly I realized it wasn’t me against the world. The world wasn’t against me, either.

  My confidence soared. My self-control hit the 100% mark.

  I was alive. I was in good health. I was happy. Everything would work out just fine.

  It wasn’t as if I’d always made the right choices in the past. Often I’d selected my own selfish desires over what was really important. Like when Yanna had needed help cleaning the house and I’d had a raid to do. Or when my parents had invited us over for a meal and I was like, “sorry, some other time,” because I’d had a raid to do. Or when I hadn’t delivered a file to a client, “oh sorry, I’m in sick, you’ll get it Monday!” because — no, I hadn’t had a raid to do, I was just too lazy to do it. You didn’t need an analyst to see where this strategy had taken me.

  Unhesitantly I hailed a cab and went back home. I knew I was making the right decision. Because whenever you’re faced with a tough choice, you should always choose family above everything else.

  And I had Richie waiting for me back home, desperate for his walk.

  In fact, it was a rational decision. I had loads of time. My workmates had to get to the restaurant first. Then they’d have to wait for their tables, pore over their menus and place their orders talking over each other... And then another long wait until they finally got their food. I had an hour at least — and seeing as my house wasn’t very far and the streets were virtually empty by now, I could get back home, walk the dog, change into dry clothes and drive back to the restaurant.

  I could hear Richie whine already in the elevator. The moment I unlocked the door, opening it a crack, he darted out like a black bolt of lightning, poked the flat of my hand with his moist nose and hurried toward the elevator.

  “Hi there, Richie,” I said, pressing the elevator button. “Time for walkies!”

  Richie scratched the elevator door with an impatient paw. As we rode down, he very nearly climbed the walls in desperation but held it. Which is more than I can say about some of the human beings living in our apartment block.

  It didn’t take him long to do his business. Half an hour later, I was already sitting in a cab heading for the restaurant.

  “Just look at this weather,” the level-5 cab driver started the conversation. “The best thing to do in this weather is stay at home having a TV dinner. A nice hot bowl of borsch and cream, a slice of rye garlic bread and a healthy shot of vodka...”

  My stomach rumbled its protest. The heating inside the cab was insufferable. I yawned but felt obliged to keep the conversation going. “Good idea. I haven’t had anything to eat yet, either. Been running around like a headless chicken all day.”

  “That’s something you should never do, son,” the driver said. “You should never skip meals. Didn’t they teach you that in the army?” he paused, then glanced at me in the mirror. “You did serve in the army,
didn’t you?”

  I could see by his stats that he was getting angry with me.

  “Or did you dodge the draft?” his voice tensed. “That’s what you all do these days! It’s okay shirking around — but when your country needs you, you’re gone with the wind!” he gave me a long look in the mirror, waiting for me to answer his question.

  What could I say? I had indeed dodged the draft. Still, neither his accusations nor his patronizing tone sat well with me.

  I closed my eyes, unwilling to speak.

  A phone call saved me from having to answer his question. The driver put the radio down — either to be tactful or just not to miss what I was about to say.

  “Phil? Is that you?”

  It was Pavel’s voice.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Aha. Well, it’s probably better that way. Mr. Ivanov asked me to tell you that we won’t be needing you, after all. You don’t have to come. Best of luck elsewhere.”

  Best of luck? Were they out of their minds?

  “No, wait a sec, man,” I said, suppressing my fury.

  “What now, man?” he mimicked my tone, then laughed. “Sorry, I don’t have much time,” he added, suddenly deadly serious. “They’re serving the main course already.”

  “Just tell me what this is all about! Why? Okay, I thought your offer of a bonus was too good to be true but this? In less than six hours, I gave you your dream deal! Do you still think I can’t do it?”

  He didn’t reply. I could hear him rise from the table and walk to a quieter corner, away from the cheerful clamor around the table.

  “That’s the problem. I still don’t know,” he finally replied. “Today you’ve been lucky. You met Valiadis purely by accident, you said so yourself. The rest was entirely due to Ivanov and myself. We closed the deal and signed the contract. What was your part in that? You just sat there doing nothing.”

  “You’d have closed jack had I not spoken to him first!”