The Time Master

by Dmitry Bilik

  I sat back from my empty plate feeling happy and sated. I finished the beer and took out my wallet. It turned out not to be so cheap — $6 for a portion of dumplings and $3.50 for the pint of their Czech ambrosia. What the hell, it was worth it. I didn’t know if it was customary to leave a tip here, but I added one anyway and started for the door.

  Still, the moment I’d polished off my dinner, I realized that I felt uncomfortable here. A bit like a farmer in ripped overalls who suddenly ends up at the White House. Every passing minute increased the risk of me being found out. So I did the only thing I could. I left money on the table and quietly exited. Fortunately, everyone, including the bartender, was fixated on the next gruesome story on TV.

  I got outside and took a deep breath. The air was warm and pleasant, and even the snow falling on my face felt familiar. And it wasn’t hot outside at all — this Traug guy had been talking a lot of BS.

  I strode over to the intersection and searched for an old lady to help cross, but had no luck. I crossed the street empty-handed and went to the bus stop. By some sort of miracle, my bus showed up almost immediately. I plopped down in an empty seat, ignoring the messages above people’s heads. I’d gotten sick and tired of it all in the last two days.

  I must have dozed off because I very nearly missed my stop. I jumped out at the traffic light as the migrant driver swore at me in his own language. It was almost 9 p.m. already. All because of that foolish trip to the bar.

  And what had I learned? Apparently, there were these creatures called Players. I wasn’t the only pretty face around. If I were to believe Traug, there was also this other world called Elysium. And maybe there were also others like it. The existence of all those different races suggested that that there might also be lots of worlds. The Players had their own currency which they called dust. I doubted that it was the same dust that collected on my shelves. What else?

  I was lost in thought when I got to the door of my building. There was no one sitting on the benches. That wasn’t surprising — a snowstorm was brewing, gusts of wind blowing handfuls of prickly snow in my face.

  I opened the security door and nearly knocked heads with the upstairs neighbors, a married couple.

  “Hello,” I said mechanically.

  “Hello, Sergei,” the woman said. “Nicky, why are you stopping? Let’s go.”

  But both I and the fifty-year-old Uncle Nick had stopped dead in our tracks.

  Because I was staring at yet another Player.

  Chapter 4

  ACCORDING TO LEO TOLSTOY, happy families are all alike while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. I totally disagreed with this. Just take a look at Lydia who ran her family with the heavy hand of a matriarch. She was both god and emperor for them; her husband gave in to all her whims, and still everyone seemed perfectly happy.

  Or take my parents’ relationship, where my father always had the last word. Even if it was sometimes incorrect, it was always ironclad and left no room for objection. And that, in my particular household, was normal. Somehow my parents had raised three kids, and the family didn’t seem unhappy in any way.

  At first glance, it didn’t look like anyone had the upper hand in Uncle Nick and Aunt Nina’s relationship. They were cordial and respectful toward each other. And as unthinkable as it was, they didn’t suffer for it.

  So there was no way that Count Tolstoy, who deflowered more than one village girl on his family estate and who near the end of his life ran off into the night, fleeing his own wife, was in a position to talk about family happiness. The guy was full of hot air, if you ask me.

  My ruminations on the influence of literary genius on matrimonial stereotypes were interrupted by Uncle Nick’s voice.

  “You gonna stand like this for long?” he asked. “I don’t have much time. I told my wife you needed help.”

  He set his toolbox down in the hall and took off his boots. I ushered him into the kitchen, where there was hot tea waiting, and observed him intently.

  Uncle Nick looked just like he always did — in other words, he hadn’t undergone a metamorphosis like I had. The only thing that gave him away as a Player was the brightly illuminated text box over his head.

  ???, Nick

  Shadow

  ???

  ???

  ???

  ???

  ???

  ???

  Judging by the number of question marks, he wasn’t your ordinary Player. All the better for me. I wanted more information, didn't I? All right, let’s begin.

  “Nick isn’t your real name, is it?” I asked.

  “How-” he asked guardedly, but then nodded to himself. “Insight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”

  That actually suited me just fine. Right now I desperately needed someone who’d help break everything down for me. But if you’re demanding that someone be honest with you, you should be prepared to pay by being honest with them too. This was even more true seeing as I had a good relationship with Uncle Nick — or at least, the Uncle Nick of the past, the one who was my upstairs neighbor and who worked as a lathe operator at the factory, or whatever he was supposed to be doing there.

  Now I needed to figure out how I might get on with Nick the Player.

  “I see. Well, that’s more or less how he said it woul-” Uncle Nick broke off, as if he’d blurted something he shouldn’t have. “I meant to say, how on earth did you end up in this mess?”

  He wasn’t actually demanding an answer; he just drummed his fingers on the table, looking around at my crudely decorated kitchen. For a moment I felt self-conscious on account of the soot-covered air vent and the grease-stained lace curtain on the window. I made a mental note to do a major clean the next time I had a day off. Probably...

  “Anyway, listen. For now try to take everything I’m gonna say with a pinch of salt. Because to put it mildly, this sort of information is rather unusual for a Commoner like yourself.”

  My hackles went up. The Uncle Nick I knew from before used to be rather tongue-tied, but this one expressed himself like an educated person with at least one university behind him.

  “Let’s suppose that there are many worlds all around us,” he said.

  “How many?”

  “Thousands. No one knows exactly how many. And it’s unlikely that we’ll ever find out. They seem to be strung on a long, intricately twisted thread; you might call it an interworld network. The worlds located closer to the middle of the thread are more numerous, and they’re better developed, too. Each world has its own laws and unspoken rules. That’s also logical. The only thing that connects them together is the presence of the Seekers, or the Players, as you called us.”

  “They are the only ones who can travel between worlds?”

  “Exactly. The Gateway is closed to Commoners, that is, the ordinary people.”

  “The Gateway?”

  “The path to the other worlds. It’s the most common method of travel, and the simplest one. All you need to do is use the services of a Gatekeeper. The only restriction is, you can only travel between neighboring worlds.”

  “A Gatekeeper?” I exclaimed, remembering what my new friend Traug had said. “Is there a Gatekeeper in our city too?”

  “Of course, as in any large settlement or strategically important place. He can help you travel to the other Gateways of either this world or the next one. It’s just a question of cost. As you’ve already figured out, our currency is a dry magic substance otherwise known as Dust.”

  “But what if I don’t want to use the Gatekeepers’ services? Is there a way to travel to another world without their help?”

  “Five hundred years ago I would have said absolutely not. But in the last couple of centuries there have been more and more rumors about Players who are using some sorts of gaps in the fabric of time and space. Don’t ask me how, but as far as I can tell, there are fewer and fewer Gatekeepers. Maybe the day will come when there
'll be no need for them at all.”

  “OK, tell me about the dust. What does it do?”

  “The dust is used to make potions, elixirs, maps, spells, and weapons. To put it simply, it’s in everything that’s somehow connected to the Seekers. By the way, tomorrow morning we’re going to the foundation pit to look for some.”

  “Uncle Nick...”

  “Call me Hunter. That’s the name the Seekers in this world and a couple of the neighboring ones know me by.”

  “OK, Hunter. What’s the point of all of this? If there are Players, doesn’t that mean that there’s a Game? And every game has an object.”

  “What’s the meaning of life?”

  I shrugged in confusion.

  “Everything that has a beginning has an end. But I can’t tell you what all of this is for. Just like I can’t explain the meaning of life. I spent many years roaming around the worlds searching for an answer to that question. I killed other Seekers; many a time I almost died myself. But I only found meaning in simple human happiness. I got married and stayed here.”

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘many years’?”

  “‘Many’ means many,” Hunter said with a sarcastic chuckle. “A lot more than you can imagine.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Let me put it this way: I’ve already lived a few dozen human lives. Maybe even hundreds. You know, in the past people used to die pretty young.”

  “Are you immortal?”

  “Everyone is mortal. Especially the Seekers. A lot of people want to kill us, both Commoners and Players like ourselves. There are only a few worlds, including the Cesspit” — for some reason he motioned to my kitchen — “where you can feel safe, or relatively safe. But time doesn’t have as much power over us as over other people. And Players don’t get sick. Anyway, speaking of time” — Uncle Nick looked at his watch — “I’ll come by in the morning, after my wife leaves for work. Be ready.”

  “Hunter,” I caught up with him in the hall. “Apparently I’d gained some sort of Light spell. But how am I supposed to use it?”

  “Light?” for some reason, the word made Uncle Nick laugh. “You need to calm down, close your eyes, and look inside yourself. Then you’ll find out everything. One more thing: Players don’t reveal their spells, abilities, and main development branches. Even to friends, if you ever have any. Because indiscretion can attract unwanted attention.”

  I shut the door behind him and scratched the back of my neck. Was he making fun of me? I’d told him everything just now without a second thought. Couldn’t he have clued me in on some of the finer details beforehand?

  I went into the living room and slumped onto my sagging couch. What did he mean by ‘looking inside oneself’? Meditate? To be honest, I hardly had any experience with that. But there was no harm in trying. I doubted it would make things worse.

  I inhaled and exhaled deeply and shut my eyes. Cars were driving by outside the window. A television was blaring on the other side of the wall. The third-floor neighbor’s cat was soliciting a partner. How could I possibly engage in spiritual practices under these conditions? I chuckled to myself and already wanted to open my eyes when I suddenly realized that some unfamiliar outlines were taking shape in the darkness.

  It was like flying through the universe. I was a tiny speck of dust surrounded by the boundless cosmos. My consciousness was whizzing at a speed that would have amazed all the scientists in this world, and then it returned to the point where it started.

  By then, the cat downstairs had apparently switched to summoning Lucifer. Some political TV show continued to drone on beyond the wall.

  But none of this mattered anymore. Because something that looked like a stat chart had appeared before my eyes:

  Sergei Demidov

  Age: 25 Earth years

  Human (15/16), Korl (1/16)

  Race characteristics:

  Heightened cold resistance

  Heightened resistance to Water and Frost spells

  Accelerated leveling of the Rhetoric branch.

  Karma: -90. You gravitate to the Dark Side.

  Strength: 20

  Intellect: 15

  Resilience: 20

  Agility: 10

  Stamina: 15

  Rhetoric: 8

  Speed: 12

  Health: 30

  Mana: 25

  Vigor: 25

  Charge: 30

  Development branch: Time Master

  Abilities: Insight

  Spells: Light

  Divine Avatar: Savior

  But most important of all, I could click on all the information. By hovering over any component, I got an expanded view.

  I started off with Resilience.

  Affects the ability to withstand magic, and the use of spells from the Transformation, Destruction, Mysticism, Witchcraft, Illusion, and Regeneration schools.

  Well then.

  Light (Illusion school) is the creation of a small illuminated area. Use: on self. Cost: 10 mana points. Duration: 60 seconds.

  Now things were starting to make sense. I understood that the gold bar showed the amount of charges used for rewinding time. I’d need to figure out the rest as I went along.

  I opened my eyes and saw my old room in a new way. It’s like when you returned to your old stomping grounds after a long absence. But I’d only been gone for a few seconds. Or...

  No matter. Logically, I now had enough mana to cast spells. All I needed to do was try to figure out what kind of animal it was and what I could do with it.

  An icon popped up on my right. I used my eyes to move it to the farthest edge and activated it.

  Now. My arm stretched out like it had a mind of its own, palm facing front, and then it flashed like a 70-watt bulb even though my body temperature didn’t change.

  Your Illusion skill has increased to level 1.

  The spell ended exactly one minute later. I stayed rooted to the spot, readjusting to the semidarkness. Whether a curse or a spell, this was a bomb, no doubt about it. I might use it to walk around dark backstreets shouting “Leave the Twilight![8]” to put the fear of God into local thugs. Or I could get a job at the local power station with a work schedule that was two minutes per hour.

  But I still needed to check to see how fast mana was replenished. On the whole, things didn’t turn out as awesome as I’d initially thought.

  The only plus was that if I leveled up this spell, my overall level will grow too. I didn’t know how many points I needed to go up. But I fully intended to try.

  I activated Light again, but to no avail: the skill didn’t increase. Mana was dangerously close to zero but at least now I knew what to aim for. OK, let’s read a little more.

  Divine Avatar: Savior

  Activation requires 1000+ karma points.

  Holy crap! With my -90 I’d better shut up and forget all about it. I really should post an ad on a bidding website for transporting old ladies across busy thoroughfares. Or start thinking about other ways to get above zero. I had a feeling that incentives would be given for any good deed, big or small. I just needed to understand what “big” meant in the context of the Game. What kind of a goody-two-shoes did you need to be to make 1000 points?

  I spent the rest of the evening perusing my inner manuals, or whatever this System or Game had issued me. No idea what the actual name of their guide was. While I was at it, I saved money on electricity bill by using Light. I brought the Illusions skill up to level 4, and feeling as satisfied as a bull leaving the proverbial china shop, I finally went to bed.

  I had a funny feeling that I was on the right path.

  * * *

  Sometimes you wake up for no apparent reason a few seconds before your alarm goes off. That’s what happened to me today, but it was because of the knocking at the door.

  I unstuck my eyes and looked around the familiar room even though I didn’t completely understand what had jolted me awake. It was only when I heard the sound of knuckles rapping
on the door that I jumped to my feet.

  It was 8 a.m.. Even when I had to go to work, I usually didn’t wake up until half an hour before I had to leave. But I’d already figured out who it could be.

  My gut feeling was correct. Uncle Nick a.k.a. Hunter was standing in the doorway, clean-shaven and full of energy, as though to taunt me. He hadn’t come empty-handed, either.