For a while, he studied me with a stony face as if trying to work out what I was playing at. I looked back at him, perfectly relaxed. I wasn’t asking for a rise, after all.
He gave up first. “What’s up? Not happy with the bonus?”
“I’m afraid it’s personal.”
“Don’t tell me Valiadis has poached you!”
“Please don’t try to second-guess it. I’ve got nowhere to go. As I said, I have a lot of family responsibilities at the moment. I can’t afford to work nine to five.”
“Is that all?” he laughed. “That’s not a problem. You can be as flexible as you want. I can run it past the boss now if you wish. The wage might not be the same but a bonus is a bonus, right? Tell you what, I’m gonna talk him into giving J-Mart to you. You’ll be getting your monthly cut off their orders, what would you say to that? Come on, tell me!”
For a brief second, I hesitated. His offer was generous indeed. Still... no. Dashing around town like a headless chicken, meeting people... no. Too time-consuming. I could use it more productively, that’s for sure. And I couldn’t pretend I was working while doing other things. That wasn’t right. Somebody else needed this job more than I did. Marina, for instance.
“Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor,” I began, tracing the desk top with my finger from left to right. “Wizard, Warrior, Rogue or Gambler...”
He raised a surprised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” I said. “I’m very sorry.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Shame. So you did take offense.”
“I swear to you I didn’t. It was a joke. Just a joke,” I rose, about to shake his hand and leave.
He rose too. “Can you at least finish this week? Whatever you make, you’ll receive in your envelope as soon as the deal is closed. You don’t need to come to briefings, either. I can tell the guys that you... eeeer... that you had to go to the doctor, for instance. Would you like that?”
“How about my J-Mart earnings for this month?”
He scratched his head: an innocent, very human gesture which tipped the scales in his favor.
Why not? I could agree to his offer and work for another week. That might pay for a new laptop, too.
“Ah, fuck it,” Pavel said. “My karma could use a boost too. Very well!”
We shook on it.
“I have a few things to sort out today,” I said. “Is it all right?”
He nodded. “You can be as flexible as you want.”
As I left his office, a new message flashed before my eyes.
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: Perseverance
Current level: 3
XP received: 500
I closed the message. That was nice of them.
From Pavel’s office, I headed to Cyril. I had another skill to up.
“Cyril, man, can I borrow your laptop for an hour?”
“Do you know what you’re asking for? It’s like soliciting someone to spend an hour with their wife!”
“Okay, okay. I promise I won’t go anywhere near your adult sites bookmarks. The history of your BDSM adventures is safe with me. I just need to write a Word document. May I?”
“The things I do for my friends! I was about to break my own record, you know that? And now I’ll have to reopen it and start again! Come and take a seat. We have an appointment with a client, anyway.”
He rose and shouted at the top of his booming voice, “Greg! Where are you? Let’s go, man!”
“Thanks,” I said.
Cyril headed for the exit with a very reluctant Greg trailing behind him like a listless shadow. His Mood was deep in the red. I just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid.
I took Cyril’s place at the desk and opened a new Word document. Someone kept sniffing heavily behind my back. Ignoring the noise, I started typing, impatient to jot down a short story I’d been thinking about for quite a while but never got around to actually writing.
The sniffing behind my back grew louder. Menacing, even.
However, I was dead to the world. The story’s MC was quite young and also quite jealous, unsure whether his girlfriend was faithful to him. As the story unfolded, he received a gift: a supernatural ability to know the answer to any question. But the more important the question, the more life he would lose.
“You sure you have a heart?” Marina finally said.
I turned round. “Oh hi there!”
“Hi yourself,” she grumbled.
“Why didn’t you speak to me at the briefing?”
“Why, should I have?”
“Okay,” I said, returning my attention to the text. Still, I didn’t even get the chance to finish the next sentence.
“Phil!” she exploded.
I continued to type. “Speak up,” I said without turning.
“What are you writing?”
“A short story.”
“A what? Are you nuts? Do you realize what’s gonna happen if Pavel sees you doing this?”
“Well, if you keep your voice down, he won’t see anything.”
“Oh. Sorry. Well... I just wanted to apologize I didn’t reply to your greeting. I’m very mad at you.”
“Apology accepted. Do you need help?”
“Yes, please,” her voice shook, betraying whiney girly notes. “I need to draw up a base of all the clients I’ve already visited. And I've no idea how to make up those tables!”
“That’s not a problem. I’ll help you. You start making phone calls. I’ll finish this and give you a hand.”
After about an hour, I’d finally finished the three-page story which ended with the MC’s untimely demise of old age. I spent some more time trying out all sorts of styles and page layouts and even studied the Help pages, until finally, I had the desired result.
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: MS Word
Current level: 6
XP received: 500
This was a very useful skill... and the main kill candidate for the next Optimization.
Very well, but what was I supposed to do with this story now? I only had a couple of percent left till my next Creative Writing level. I edited the text, adding a couple of flashbacks and a few insights for my MC, and threw in a few detailed descriptions for a good measure.
Yes!
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: Creative Writing
Current level: 4
XP received: 500
I opened the writers’ portal where I’d once uploaded the first chapters of my unfinished book, and published the story there. I didn’t give a damn about feedback. I was fully prepared to write my proverbial million words of crap before I could master the craft.
I logged out, closed the laptop and walked over to Marina. She was typing something, squinting shortsightedly at the screen.
I pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “Show me.”
She pulled the laptop toward me. “Look. I keep moving it around but it just won’t budge. I type in numbers but they change to something completely different.”
“Jesus. You poor child of modern technologies! This isn’t an Apple tablet, is it? Do you have it all on paper?”
“Yeah. I’ve got it all here. The clients’ names, the contact persons, the approximate demand...”
“You wait a sec. I’m gonna make a chart now. All you need to do is enter the data.”
I habitually threw together a quick table with all the entries she needed. It had taken me five minutes at most. I glanced at the skill bar. I had a mere 6% left till the next level.
“Marina? Go and take a smoke break. You’re distracting me.”
She took offense. “How am I distracting you?”
“It must be your pheromones. Sorry. Would you please?”
She pushed the chair away, sprang to her feet and sashayed off, indignantly swaying her hips.
Now that she wasn’t looking over my shoulder, I opened a new document and created a new macro-based table, checking myself frequently against the Help pages. That took me another half-hour. Marina had been back twice, but I sent her off for another break and then to get us some coffee. By the time she was back with it, I’d got a new level. Easy XP!
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: MS Excel
Current level: 5
XP received: 500
I checked my XP bar:
XP points left until the next social status level: 4650/9000
I couldn’t help smiling. I’d made half a level in less than twenty-four hours.
“You’re so handsome when you smile,” Marina whispered. “Have you done it?”
“Oh, thank you. Yes, I have. Look,” I pointed at the table. “You enter the client’s name here and their contact person’s name here. Now you add the dates and-”
As I explained, an idea struck me. Pavel really should have the trainees connected to their CRM[29] database. What was he afraid of? That they might sell the data to someone else? Possible.
“That’s it, Marina, I must dash,” I finally said.
“Why? How about me?”
“You, my dear, are perfectly ready to work on your own now. Powerful you have become, my young Padawan.”
“Yeah right,” she replied, looking lost. “Does that mean I can now use the Force?”
“You’d better use Charisma. You’re totally good at it.”
As I left the office, I ran a quick map search for the nearest men’s salon. I had only one search criterion: “haircuts with a high chance of Charisma improvement”. No idea whether my query had done anything because all of the town’s salons remained on the map. It looked like any decent haircut could improve my Charisma.
I lingered next to the salon’s door. I really had to discuss this with Martha. She might help me choose the right hair style.
I summoned her.
“Hi Phil! How’s it hangin’?”
“Hi yourself. What kind of language is that? Where did you learn it?”
“Phil, Phil. I don’t have a memory, do I? I only know what I learn from you. So how’s it hangin’?”
“Straight down. Actually, I need your advice. I need to have my hair cut. What style would you suggest?”
“What do you want me to suggest?” she inquired, taking a languid pull on her fat e-cigarette.
“Can you choose a haircut with the most Charisma?”
“Do I need to? To me, you’re charismatic enough as you are, my lord and master.”
“Oh Martha, please! That’s not funny anymore. You’re wasting my Spirit!”
“Okay. Seriously, I can’t help you with that.”
“What can you do, then?”
“I can activate my virtual makeover tool featuring potential haircuts.”
“Excellent! Let’s do it!”
I worked my way though a good fifty images, from completely bald to a Mohawk, then picked the most neutral of the whole lot. Short back and sides and longer on top with slightly raised short bangs. Perfect for the summer weather.
Now that I knew exactly what I wanted, I bade goodbye to Martha and walked into the salon.
“Hi, my name’s Katerina,” the receptionist beamed. “How can I help you today?”
“I think I need a haircut. Could you do it now?”
“Just a moment. I’ll go and check with the stylist.”
She left her reception desk and disappeared into the salon, then promptly returned. Her beaming smile appeared perfectly sincere but I could see that the girl was in a foul mood. No idea what had happened to her but her composure was amazing.
“The stylist will be free in twenty minutes. You think you could wait?”
“Absolutely.”
“Please take a seat. Would you like a tea or a coffee?”
“A black coffee, please.”
As I sipped the piping-hot drink, I continued reading on my smartphone. With any luck, I could up my Reading skill already today. I also kept watching Katerina out of the corner of my eye. Now that she thought that no one was watching, she’d finally allowed her emotions to get the better of her. She sat cross-armed, frowning and staring at the floor in front of her.
I tried to tune in to her and feel what she was feeling. She was definitely upset but still it wasn’t anything too serious. This wasn’t grief but something rather mundane and annoying.
What could it be? Had she had an argument with a neighbor? Or her boyfriend? Or maybe one of the clients had been rude to her?
I set my phone down on the coffee table, rose and walked over to her.
Noticing that, she transformed immediately. She sat up, laid her hands on the desk and squinted her eyes in a smile, showing her readiness to hear me out. “Yes?”
“Katerina, I hope you’ll excuse me.. I know it’s none of my business but I just wanted to tell you... it’s all gonna work out. I know it will.”
“Really? Oh, I’m sorry!” her face turned crimson. “But how do you... Where did you...”
I looked her in the eye and repeated, “It’s all gonna be fine.”
As I walked back to my seat, I noticed that her Mood had grown a notch. A couple percent, maybe, but she definitely felt better.
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: Empathy
Current level: 7
XP received: 500
Oh. I hadn’t done it for the XP! I’d known, of course, that I’d had very little left till next level but I’d had no idea how to advance Empathy.
And now I knew. You had to place yourself in another person’s shoes and try to feel their pain.
The process of having my hair cut unfolded without any further ado. The stylist — a middle-aged woman with shaven temples — listened to my explanations and nodded her understanding, then switched on her trimmer. I watched my transformation in the mirror as a long strand of hair dropped to the floor to my right. And another one... With every passing moment, I looked more like Gary Oldman’s character in The Fifth Element.
The shampoo, cut and blow-dry resulted in a new system message,
Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!
Skill name: Charisma
Current level: 14
XP received: 1000
That’s leveling strategy for you. I studied myself in the mirror, thanked the stylist, left her a tip and walked back to the receptionist’s desk. As I paid, I gave her a wink,
“Chin up, Katerina!”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you. See you next time!”
Having thus satisfied my tonsorial needs, I stepped into a coffee shop next door. Leveling strategy was all well and good, but I still needed to find a roof over my head. Time was an issue: I had less than a week until the landlady kicked me out.
I checked the available rental options, then sorted them by location. I wanted to move to the same neighborhood as my parents. They had a very good park there, ideal for jogging, and an excellent but affordable gym with its own swimming pool and boxing group. Sounded perfect. Also, they seemed to have a very nice office building which offered small office spaces for rent. I might need one later on when my budding business idea finally took shape.
I called several numbers but each was answered by a real estate rep. After speaking to one of them twice, I decided to ask him to help me. I described my needs to him and he immediately came up with a few offers, suggesting I started viewing them later in the afternoon. I made an appointment to see him.
I glanced at my watch. I still had about three hours left until our RV. What could I do? I really didn’t feel like meeting new clients today. Should I go home for lunch? Another waste of time.
I gave my parents a ring, then called Kira to share all my latest news. Then I took one final swig of coffee and dialed Vicky.
It took her a while to reply. Finally, she
did pick up, “Yes, Phil?”
“Hi. I wondered if you could give me Greg’s address? You must have it in your database.”
“Why?” her voice tensed. “Is he all right?”
“Well, you remember, the night when you and I-”
“Yes, I remember. You can skip it.”
“That night, Greg came home drunk early in the morning but his wife wouldn’t let him in. He’s been crashing at Cyril’s ever since. Last night they went to see her but she didn’t want to know. He’s pretty desperate. His wife is pregnant. The child needs a father!”
“This I understand very well,” she said pensively. “What I don’t understand is where you come into it.”
“Well, I just thought I might go and speak with her. Why not?”
“Is your name Mother Teresa? Why is it you always need to interfere?”
“So is that how you see it? Really?”
Silence. I looked around the café and gestured to the waiter to bring me the tab.
Vicky cleared her throat. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Here’s the address...”
The Uber driver — a stout highlander from the Caucasus complete with a bushy moustache — kept talking about his grandchildren as we drove. I listened, inserting the right noises into his soliloquy.
What was I doing? Did I really have to meddle in other people’s affairs? Or was I simply after more “socially meaningful actions”? If I managed to bring a family back together, I could expect a hefty XP reward.
Or was I trying to improve my Reputation with Greg? Even worse, did I think I had the right to control other people’s lives for them?
I shook my head in disagreement.
I meant none of these things. All I wanted was to help a friend.
And I fully intended to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Six. Against All Odds
“Once you've taken a few punches and realize you're not made of glass, you don't feel alive unless you're pushing yourself as far as you can go.”
Green Street Hooligans
GREG’S WIFE lived in a brand-new housing complex, so new that its infrastructure was still in a sorry state. The evidence of barely-finished construction works was everywhere: gravel sidewalks and driveways awaiting a layer of tarmac, large heaps of sand and stacks of concrete slabs. The sad sight was somewhat compensated by the freshly-planted young trees and flowerbeds by the apartment towers’ front doors.
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