Project Daily Grind (Mirror World Book #1)

by Alexey Osadchuk

  “I'm sorry too. Actually, how did you like Mirror World?”

  “Honestly? Not special. The real world is better, simply because both my girls are here.”

  “You know something? You've no idea how much we have in common.”

  He gave me a wink and left.

  I attacked my food as if I'd been starving for several days. I could barely remember ever having this kind of appetite. Finally I sat back, feeling drowsy. No, wait. First I had to give Sveta a ring. She was awake, anyway, listening to little Christina's heart.

  “How are you, sweetheart?” her anxious voice demanded.

  I grinned into the receiver. “I’ll live.”

  “I've checked a few sites and forums. There're lots of pictures there. Is it as real as they say it is?”

  “You can't even imagine. You're much smarter than I am, by the way. I haven't even thought of looking it up. I might do some browsing now before going to bed.”

  “Please take good care of yourself,” her voice quivered. “People say lots of things.”

  “I've already worked that out. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

  “They say you need to eat a lot when you log out.”

  “I've just wolfed down three times my usual portion—and I think I'm hungry again.”

  “Please don't! I'm telling you that as a doctor! You'll be sick!”

  “It's all right, don't worry. I'll grin and bear it. How's our Little Rabbit?”

  “She's still the same,” she said softly.

  “It's going to be all right, sweet, I assure you. Tomorrow first thing I'm going to the bank to sign for the loan. Dmitry is topping it up so they can start growing our baby's little heart. She'll make it, I know it.”

  She gave a sob. “It feels as if I'm losing both of you.”

  “What are you saying, babe? You know I'm strong. I only look like a wuss.”

  “I know... that's why I'm worried. You might overdo it. I know you. When it's for us, you'll do anything.”

  We talked for a long time—crying, laughing and dreaming. Finally, Sveta cut it short and demanded I hang up, making me promise I wouldn't stay up too late with the computer.

  The Internet, indeed, was packed with the information about the game. Everything you needed, it was there. Players' blogs bursting with pictures, clan sites, employment sites and forums... I found the official Stonefoot Clan's site. Indeed, they had no vacancies; a small announcement promised potential openings next year. A whole year! This was a huge amount of time in gaming terms. Would the game even be here in a year's time?

  Never mind. As I looked up my employer's site, I was chewing on the last slice of rye bread. Waste not, want not. But when I opened the biography of Lord Shantar, I very nearly choked on my fare. This Lord Shantar was none other than my very own bank manager friend Mr. Shantarsky! That's what had been giving me this constant déjà vu feeling all day.

  All right. So that's what it was, then. I didn't even know what I was supposed to feel about it. The next morning I'd have to raise the subject in the bank. I was dying to call my wife but stopped myself.

  Dmitry must have known all along. But he'd said nothing to me, the fox. Never mind.

  I went on reading. Lord Shantar, level 210. When did the guy find the time to play? A member of the Gold Guild clan which in turn made part of the Alliance of Light—was in its top 10, in fact. They looked like serious people. Apparently, the game was divided into the two sides of Light and Darkness respectively, constantly feuding with each other. Not that it had anything to do with me: I was a humble level-0 Grinder.

  So I gave that bit of info a miss. I couldn’t care less about their petty clan wars.

  The game's official site informed everyone of the beta testing of their water world. According to the news, it had been successfully tested on several local servers with a preliminary release date in roughly three months' time. Nice job. Those game developers didn’t rest on their laurels.

  From there, I switched to studying the various stats: professions, gear and point distribution.

  Apparently, I'd done rather well on my first day in the game. Some had it much worse. I read in a blog about an Italian, a total newb like myself, who'd managed to splurge all his points on Strength—naturally, completely immobilizing himself. After having sat still for two hours, he'd been forced to reset his characteristics, losing 20% in the process.

  A chill ran down my spine. I wouldn't have liked to have been in his shoes, that's for sure.

  I also found out that the few lucky ones who'd managed to reach level 3 in farming—which seemed virtually impossible doing standard mining—received access to a second profession: a crafting one. Its choice depended on one's racial characteristics. In other words, I wouldn't be able to choose freely anymore: I had to accept what I was offered. According to the bloggers, this second profession was akin to a ticket to heaven. It took a lot of elbow grease, but in another year or two such a hard-working bastard could afford a Silver plan, no less.

  I whistled with surprise. My hands shook as I entered my race in the search box. Right...

  Excuse me? No results found? None at all? I checked the connection. It was working. What was wrong, then?

  I entered the word into the advanced search. Aha! One of the forums seemed to have the search term mentioned in a dialogue—the whole two lines of it. A certain MedVed was writing,

  Hi all,

  Checked the admins site today. They've introduced this new race, the Ennan. I mean, WTF? What's wrong with all the dwarves and other underground midgets? Nothing about their abilities anywhere. Just another stupid beta they'll have to delete after a while.

  A certain Ginger Dwarfa answered,

  Who are you calling midgets, jerk?

  That was about it. I stared at their brief teenage squabble trying to work out what was going on.

  I did another check, just in case, of some of the biggest and most influential sites and forums. Nothing.

  That was a let-down! Did that mean I'd chosen a non-existent race? How on earth had I managed to do that? I'd already spent half a day playing it!

  Finally I located the info that comforted me somewhat. Apparently, the game included lots of races that hadn't become part of it. That didn't mean anything. Quite a few players were happy about it. Choosing one of the so-called “dead races” was even trendy in a way. But being a single player of some esoteric dead race was admittedly weird.

  As I fell asleep, I kept thinking about my wife and daughter. Strangely enough, I was looking forward to the next morning. The Ennan's gloomy glare puzzled me. What kind of beast are you? How am I supposed to level you? You don't even have a simple manual, let alone a guidebook.

  I'd managed to stake everything on a dark horse. Just my luck.

  Chapter Seven

  Next morning, I couldn't get to the bank fast enough. I was standing at its doors twenty minutes before opening time.

  As it turned out, my loan was already halfway through. Sandra hadn't let me down and sent the contract in. Even though Shantarsky wasn't in the office, one of the girls there told me that he'd okayed my loan yesterday and authorized her to offer me nineteen thousand dollars.

  Deep inside, I was jumping for joy. No, it wasn't the amount I'd initially counted on. But after my escapades in the game I hadn't counted on more than fifteen thousand. That's what Dmitry had thought, too. But I was lucky: I'd got another four thousand on top.

  The paperwork didn't take long. I was already their client, anyway: I'd been with them for over four years.

  So now I had thirty-six thousand two hundred dollars on my account. The agreement with Dmitry was for eleven thousand but he'd transferred twelve saying the extra thousand was just emergency money to make sure I had a bit of extra cash to spend.

  I gave Sveta a quick ring. She cried with joy. Managing the money was her job. Ecstatic about my first victory, I hurried to the address Sandra had given me.

  As I rode the bus,
my cell rang. Sveta's number appeared on the screen. I could hear her triumphant voice, “The money's on its way! Her heart is already growing!”

  I felt tears well up in my eyes.

  “You've done it! We love you!”

  “I love you too,” I managed.

  “I need to go, sweetheart,” she said. “The doctors will be doing their rounds in a moment. You take care of yourself. If something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  We said our goodbyes. By then, the bus was almost empty. I stared at the houses behind the window, the passersby and the traffic lights flashing past. An autumn drizzle was in the air. I tried not to think that I only had twelve hundred dollars left on the account. Or that I had to pay the loan back somehow. Too much thinking might burn me out—and then I'd be sorry. I needed to stay healthy more than anything now. I was facing a problem that didn't seem to have a solution—but I was going to brave it no matter what.

  The communal module center was in the industrial zone almost out of town. My module was located on the second floor of a refurbished building of what used to be a clothes factory. Now it looked modern and spanking-new. I dreaded to even think how much money they'd poured into it. The place was swarming with staff and security. Little wonder: all that equipment must have cost millions.

  Each module was located in its own small space, a bit like a hotel room with a shower and a toilet. A small fridge sat in one corner next to a microwave and an electric plate. A bed; a table; two chairs and a narrow wardrobe. Once again I tried to imagine the scope of the company's investment in all this—and failed.

  At the reception, they’d given me a user's manual. It looked pretty straightforward.

  All the modules were connected to the host computer. A special program monitored each client's bodily functions: their pulse, blood pressure, body temperature and such. The building had its own medical center with doctors on call day and night just in case someone overdid it. The whole thing ran like clockwork... or like an assembly line. And I was quickly becoming a cog in their works.

  Already at the bank they'd told me that I could move into the center permanently. All out-of-town clients did so. Both the room and the module were paid by the employer—who, I suppose, would later deduct it from my wages. A health check was also included.

  It was pointless dragging it out. I packed up my things, gave my heartfelt thanks to the landlady and hurried on to the center. As I stepped into my room, I tried to get used to the thought that it was to become my home for a very long time.

  It was already half past midday and I hadn't shown up at work yet. I set my suitcase down in the corner: I could unpack later. I undressed, kissed the picture of my two girls, then plunged into the gelatinous bed.

  I pressed Start.

  All systems go! Time was an issue.

  The familiar darkness enveloped me, followed by the approaching light. This time I logged in much quicker. Dmitry had told me that every time I entered the game, the contrast between the two realities would continue to erode: very soon it would feel like walking from my lounge into the bedroom.

  I was standing in the square, on the exact same spot where I'd logged out yesterday. I had Greg to thank for that—among other things.

  Actually, he was offline despite the fact that the workday was in full swing. Could he have taken a day off? Never mind. That could wait.

  I opened the courtesy map of the settlement. The Digger's Store was two blocks away from the town hall. Off we go, then.

  In the morning, my wife had insisted I put a hundred dollars on my in-game account. I'd protested but she would hear nothing of it. She wanted me to deposit more money but then it was my turn to refuse point blank. That's how it happened that I had a hundred gold glittering in my purse. I just hoped I wouldn't have to spend much.

  Remembering my earlier mistakes, I walked in a controlled even pace. I had to go easy on my energy resources. Today I felt a bit more confident: the world around me had lost some of its absurd mystery. The Internet was a great thing any way you looked at it: I'd gleaned a lot of useful intel last night. So now as I headed for the shop, I already had a strategy.

  The Diggers' Store reminded me of its counterparts in cowboy movies. Wooden shelves lined the walls. Hooks were hung with clusters of boots. Tools everywhere: from fishing rods to hoes and spades. The mannequins in the shop window were kitted out in all sorts of gear complete with bags and belts.

  As I walked in, I had to slip past two very unpleasant fanged individuals. Their animal glares drilled holes in me. I pretended I hadn't noticed, just brushed past them through the closing doors. A conflict was the last thing I needed right now.

  “Morning, sir,” a Rock Dwand said from behind the counter. The shop owner was rather small, with gray skin and small pointy ears. He beamed, exposing a row of small but very sharp teeth within his wide frog-like mouth. “How can I help you? Ah, don't bother. An Ennan, a Mine Digger, current profession level: zero.”

  I smiled back. “You've nailed it,” I said, then hurried to add, “A very good morning to you too.”

  “So! At the moment, you have three sets of clothes available, a tool and a shoulder bag. What exactly do you have in mind? A Hulk? Speedo? A Duracell Bunny? Or is the price an issue?”

  “The price?”

  “Exactly. I can offer a Goner’s Universal kit. Its elements fit any kit without affecting its bonuses. Its pros: low price and zero durability. Which means it's fatigue-free, if you'll excuse the pun. You just can't wear it out. Its cons: a drop in characteristics and no bonus. What would you prefer?”

  Eh,” I faltered. “Honestly, I've looked it up and I was thinking about the speedy one. Doesn't it have an energy bonus?”

  “Absolutely,” the Dwand said. “I can tell you more: all the chars of your build seem to go for it,”

  “You mind if I give it some thought?”

  “Of course,” he smiled. “To tell you the truth, it's the first time I see someone contemplating the purchase of a zero-level kit. You'll kill it in a week and be back here with me.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You heard. It only has 20 pt. Durability. The first rockfall, a ricocheting pick or even a friendly slap on the shoulder from a Horrud will all shave some off. An herbalist can afford to roam around the fields in the same gear week in, week out. A Mine Digger can't. It's a dangerous trade—accident-prone, if you know what I mean.”

  “I see,” I said. “So this generous promise of 'gear kit on the employer' has strings attached.”

  “Heh! You haven't read the fine print. The start-up gear kit is on the employer.”

  “Very well. So how much is this Speedo kit?”

  “Let me see. The start-up kit contains five pieces: some clothing plus a pick which too has a tendency to break often. It is... thirteen gold and seventy silver.”

  “Which makes it about sixty gold a month. Plus energy restoration. So!”

  “Well, at an average wage of four hundred and fifty gold a week, it won't break the bank, will it?”

  “I’m getting paid piecework plus extracted value,” I mumbled, desperately trying to find a solution.

  “You don't mean it!” the Dwand shook his head. “Talk about bad luck!”

  “I know, I know,” I waved his sympathy away. “Everybody and their grandmother have already told me about the local mines.”

  “Here, if you’re paid piecework, the most you can make is two hundred gold a week after taxes. Give or take a few. I might be wrong, of course. Eight hundred gold a month,” he paused and added, “That's if you live that long.”

  “Is it so bad?”

  He shrugged. “You won’t understand until you try.”

  I sighed. “Four hundred and fifty a week just won't cut it, I'm afraid.”

  He chuckled. “You have some appetite!”

  I looked up at him. He promptly shut up.

  Apparently, there was something in
my stare these days. That’s the second time it had happened to me here. I couldn't remember any such reactions to my gaze in the past. But then again, imagine a sullen Ennan with a pitch-dark glare... it couldn't be that nice.

  I felt awkward. “My daughter's dying,” I explained.

  He nodded. What did I care about his feelings? And if so, why should he care about my problems?

  He stepped back behind the counter, giving me some space to think. I concentrated on the gear's stats. The five items of Speedo, counting the pick, offered 25 to Speed, 11 to Strength and a bonus of +5 to Stamina. I opened the stat simulator and did a rough calculation. This was what I had:

  Speed: 29

  Strength: 15

  Stamina: 8

  I had 30 points left to spare, but I'd better save those for any additional skills. I had big plans regarding them. I opened the Goner’s kit. This was how it looked:

  Speed: 19

  Strength: 9

  Stamina: 3

  Stamina was so low because the Goner had no bonus. So I'd have to splurge on it from my reserve. Apart from that, the Goner looked rather decent. Why not? Indestructible duds, what’s there not to like? I could use some in real life, that's for sure. No idea about down the mine though. What if I died within the first hour just through wearing the kit? I needed to do something about my energy levels.

  “So? Have you decided?” the vendor's voice made me jump.

  “I think so.”

  This was one choice I was going to regret. “I think I'll take the Goner.”

  The Dwand—I focused to read his name tag—aha, Rrhorgus—stared at me. This was the kind of gaze one reserves for idiots or suicide cases.

  A system message helpfully popped up.

  Congratulations! You've just acquired a Goner’s Universal gear kit.

  A Ragged Shirt: receipt confirmed.

  A pair of Worn-Out Pants: receipt confirmed

  A Creased Jacket: receipt confirmed

  A Misshapen Hard Hat: receipt confirmed