by Dmitry Bilik
“Keep your eyes open,” Hunter warned.
We walked for a while along the main street, then turned into a courtyard which seemed arrested in time. Ramshackle roofs gave us a disapproving look; an old, rusty motorbike squinted at us with a broken headlight. A one-eared alley cat stopped and gazed curiously after us. Time may have frozen here, but we had to keep walking.
We crossed courtyard after courtyard. That made no sense: at some point one of them had to lead to the street. But the low buildings suddenly parted, revealing a broad square that was swarming with Players. I felt lost at the sight of all the bright text boxes above their heads.
“The entry and this whole place are enchanted, just like all the communities in large cities. Your average commoner won’t wander in here.”
I looked around. Alchemy Shop; Swordsmith; Thrift Store; The Best Secondhand Items from Purgator; Top Brands from the Lower Swamps; Kalinin Brothers War Trophies; Protection by Smith; Arsenal; and so on.
I looked at the reflection in the true mirror. Just a bunch of abandoned buildings with boarded-up windows. Lots of fun indeed.
“Hunter,” a man with skin the color of a cooked carrot broke off from the scurrying crowd and stepped in front of us. He must have been bingeing on vitamin A. “I didn’t think you’d show your face here. I guess you’ve completely lost your memory, huh?”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Hunter said as he tried to edge past him.
“Well, I really want to talk to you. I’ve been looking for you. It’s your fault my buddy was killed. Meanwhile, I’m forced to rot here and I can’t go home.”
“Don’t you have enough dust to pay the Gatekeeper? Or are they only letting people with positive karma into Purgator and Elysium now?”
“Don’t you dare mock me,” a pistol materialized in the orange man’s hands. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was a Beretta. “You know very well what I mean. The moment I set foot there, I’m dead meat.”
“Whatever. It’s your call. Nothing to do with me.”
The orange man waved the pistol. “You owe me 300 grams of dust for my inconvenience.”
“I don’t owe you anything. Get your ass back to Firoll, you idiot.”
“Three hundred grams or...”
“Are you threatening me?”
Apparently, that word meant something here because a few people — or creatures, rather — immediately peeled off from the throng. Despite the difference in their age, build and hair color, they all looked like they could be brothers. It was probably because they were all dressed alike, in long robes and black masks that covered their faces.
“So you’re threatening me, Eriol?” Hunter said. “You’re threatening me in front of the Guards?”
He appeared surprised rather than concerned. His commanding voice grew louder; his gaze hardened. His inner calm and self-confidence — infallibility even — had a powerful effect on the orange-skinned man who nervously looked around and tried to smile, then holstered his gun.
“Just making conversation. Why would I do something stupid like that in the city? In public. I know the rules.”
His words didn’t seem to have appeased the Guards. The guys in the black masks kept approaching, their tunics rustling. One of them, who appeared to be their leader, addressed neither Hunter nor Eriol but me.
“Greetings, Player.”
I nodded. “Hi.”
“This is your first time visiting our community. May I ask you if you’re from this world?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How long have you been a Player?”
“Since the day before yesterday.”
“In that case, you need to come visit the sachem so he can explain a few rules of conduct in this world.”
I turned to Hunter. He nodded calmly as if he did nothing else but escorted newbies to see guys with funny nicknames.
I had no choice. I was willing to bet that these guys too were wearing firearms under their robes.
To my surprise, the building they led me to wasn’t the grandest one of all. Instead, they took me to a much more modest one that stood beyond a larger one. But the security detail posted at the door made it clear that this was the residence of some local bigwig. I could tell they weren’t the local guards but some hired mercenaries: two guys built like brick shithouses dressed in camouflage fatigues, with some sort of compact assault rifles slung over their shoulders. They were both Players. The one on the right sported the moniker Bulldozer, while the one on the left was called Champion, whatever that was supposed to mean. The two looked like they meant business.
They sized me up so intently that I felt like they were strip-searching me. The taller one pointed at my knife and authoritatively reached his hand out. Maybe when you’re at the airport you can play hard to get and have a bit of fun acting up in front of the customs agents, but I sensed that I’d better not fool around with these guys. So I handed over my knife without protest.
“You’ll get it back when you leave.”
I nodded. What else could I do? I wondered if I could use my time rewind ability to knock them down, then laughed at my own stupidity. Of course I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even bother trying.
It was rather dingy inside the house. The light hardly penetrated the murky splotches on the windows. The place smelled of dust with some perspiration mixed in.
I made out an expensive leather recliner that seemed out of place in the old, abandoned house. The man I had come to see was ensconced in the chair.
??? city sachem
???
???
???
Leader
???
“Hello,” I said, trying to be polite.
“Hi.” The sachem’s face was lifeless and jaundiced. Was he ill or something? “So you’re the new Player?”
Although I felt somewhat anxious — scared even, — I struggled to keep myself from blurting something sarcastic. You see, to put it mildly, I have a complicated personality. When I was in school, my big mouth often earned me a slap across the face. As they say, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But in this case I really did restrain myself — it’s usually a bad idea to try to be too witty when you meet someone new.
So I just nodded, using the opportunity to examine the sachem more closely. Oddly, his neck was a different color from his face. It was the same carrot color as Eriol, Hunter’s enemy.
Damn! He was wearing a mask! But unlike the Guards’ mask, his was made of gold.
“I’m guessing you have a lot of questions,” the sachem said. “I’ll answer some of them. Then, when you’ve heard everything I can tell you, you’ll need to make a choice. You can either remain in the Cesspit and accept its rules or you’ll have to leave and make your home in some other world of your choice.”
I what? He had a cheek, really! I hadn’t taken so much as my toothbrush with me, I hadn’t even turned off the water supply at home, and he was about to extradite me? Where to? Most importantly, what for?
Still, there was nothing I could do; I wasn’t the one making the rules here. Did he say ‘questions’?
“How long has this Game existed?” I asked.
“For at least as long as the Universe. Some of the Gods claim that they came across the very first Gatekeepers. But there are people who think that’s all bullshit. I think the Game came into being when man erected the first city. The Game created paths to new worlds and transformed and destroyed the old ones. It morphed on its own as it adapted to the Players’ perceptions. Now it’s in its current form.”
“Can you tell me a little more about these Gods? I was told that some of them travel between worlds, like regular Players.”
“We call them the Wandering Gods. They’re dangerous and unpredictable. Ordinary Seekers who achieve the Absolute — the highest point of enlightenment — become Gods. A Player like that generally departs for one of the worlds forever. There he either lives as an ascetic recluse or he creates a cult around himself.”
For some reason that made me think of my own Divine Avatar and the person it used to belong to two thousand years ago. A cold chill ran down my spine.
“Wandering Gods are Gods that haven’t found themselves after the ascension,” the sachem said. “An encounter with them doesn’t bode well.”
“How do you travel between worlds?”
“With help from the Gatekeepers. That’s the most powerful and ancient Order, and its job is to transport Players. But there are specific rules. A Seeker can only carry with him things that either he or other Seekers have created. Everything else scatters in transition like dust on a hot wind. A Gatekeeper can send you to any world, but your ability to access some of them is limited by your karma.”
“What does that mean?”
“Elysium, the residence of the Archali, is accessible to Players who gravitate to the Light. It’s the opposite with Firoll.”
“But can’t a Player use... what’s it called... the gap?”
The sachem nodded. “Nothing is impossible for a strong Player who has gained particular knowledge and strength, and acquired certain artifacts. Still, I haven’t heard any reliable accounts of any such feats. I don’t want to talk about hypotheses. There are too many.”
“Well then, what worlds can I get to from here?”
“It’s not for nothing that Earth is called the Cesspit. We’re off the beaten path, so the only place you can get to from here is the world where I come from, Purgator. To be honest, it’s not a good place. There are no protective pillars there. The local commoners know about Seekers. But Purgator opens several more routes to Elysium, Firoll, Mekilos, and Atrain. Any of those worlds can take you further to your own home world, which is Noggle. Except for Atrain. I recommend that you avoid that one.”
“My home wo... oh, you mean the place where the Korls live?”
“Exactly.”
“OK, I think that’s it. One last question: how is it that a Player might not leave anything but dust after he dies?”
“It just means that he only had dust on him.”
“No, that doesn’t make sense. He must have at least had clothes. I’ve seen them myself. But they weren’t there when he died.”
“It means that the clothes were only conjured up by a spell that must have dissipated after the conjurer died. The Player must have been a good wizard if he could conjure up warm protective clothing. Pure and simple.”
“But why would he want to do that?”
“The only one who can answer that is the Player who did it. All right, I think I’ve answered enough questions. Now listen to what I’m about to tell you.”
I wanted to protest that strictly speaking, I hadn’t asked that many questions. Anyway, the way I looked at it, this was just a pleasant chat between a neophyte and a hard-nosed Player. We’d just been making small talk, nothing more. But I doubted that the sachem would listen to the objections of a common Seeker. So I bit my tongue and gave him my undivided attention.
“Every world has its own laws. These are rules that help maintain order. In some places they’re strict and in others they’re lenient. But one way or another, they’re what holds everything together.”
“Let me guess. You have rules for planet Earth, too.”
“Yes. There are only three, and they’re all connected. If you break one of them, that might make you break another one. So it’s important to follow all of them. Are you ready to hear what they are?”
I gave a quick nod. The sachem certainly knew how to arouse interest. Also, three rules sounded like a no-brainer compared to the 100+ articles of Russia’s Constitution. At least you could remember them.
“A Player may not stay any longer than one human life in the same country governed by commoners. Is that clear?”
I pondered on his words for a bit. What this gold-masked dude had just said seemed to make sense. Anyone who has been alive for more than 100 years is bound to attract attention. Even if his or her next-door neighbors failed to notice it, the Pension Fund certainly would — and that particular governmental structure was infinitely more lethal than any Player. So, all kidding aside, you needed to live quietly and inconspicuously, and when the time came, you just disappeared. You had to be on the go all the time, moving country... or world.
“I got it. What else?”
“A Player may not attack another Player within the boundaries of local settlements without an apparent reason. He also may not rob them or cause any other harm.”
Is that why Eriol had just backpedaled? He couldn’t attack Hunter here, otherwise he’d be declared an outlaw. Those burly dudes in robes and black masks were anything but lenient.
“So for example, if I kill a Player in a place where there are no people around, there won’t be any claims against me?”
“That’s right.”
How interesting. I’d never been a nature lover, but now there was no way you’d catch me backpacking now. It looked like feral bears would be the least of my problems.
“It’s important to understand that a Player can’t feel safe anywhere, not even in a quiet, calm place like the Cesspit. It attracts a lot of strangers from other worlds who just don’t bother following the local rules. So keep your eyes peeled. The Guards may be strong but they’re not omnipotent.”
Well, that sure put me at ease. In other words, I couldn’t do anything at all just to make sure I stayed out of hot water. But even if I did, abiding by the laws wouldn’t get me out of trouble.
I was suddenly a lot less interested in becoming a Player. When you’re a human being, at least you know the lay of the land. True, you can get attacked or even mugged. But when someone does that to you, it’s to take your valuables, not just because you exist.
“So what’s the last rule?”
“It’s simple, but at the same time it’s the most complicated one. At least, it’s the most complicated for a Player who has fallen in love with a mortal,” he continued, building suspense and making me almost dance with impatience. “A Player may not reveal his true identity to a commoner.”
Hm. Indeed, the rule was both simple and complicated. What could be easier: just keep your mouth shut, no big deal. If you want to talk, go find other Players. But what do you do in case of intermarriage, which, as I gathered, weren’t that rare? It looked like Hunter managed it admirably. Whenever his wife was around, he promptly transformed into a tongue-tied factory worker.
And one of my ancestors must have also kept his or her mouth shut. But could I live a fake life alongside a person who would grow old and eventually die?
“Do you understand the rules?” the sachem asked.
“Totally.”
“Then you need to make a choice right now: either accept the rules of the Cesspit or leave this world.”
“One last question, just to be sure. Do these rules only apply in this country or everywhere else on Earth?”
The sachem hesitated. After a pause, he nodded. “The other sachems, my brothers, monitor order in the local settlements. They’re the eyes. The antenors, the most virtuous of the sachems, keep watch over the vast branches of this world’s many cities. They’re the arms. The Kaheed, who is chosen from among the antenors, watches over the entire Cesspit. He’s the head. Does that answer your question?”
“Plenty.”
“Then make your choice.”
“What the heck, I accept. Do I need to sign somewhere in blood or something?”
“Your word is enough.”
Before he could finish speaking, a brilliant gold mist emanated from my lips. It floated to the sachem in his chair and was absorbed by his mask, illuminating it for a moment. Then once again everything was submerged in the soft gloom.
“You are now initiated as a Seeker of this world. If it’s more convenient for you, in the language of the commoners, you are now a citizen of the Cesspit. No matter what happens in other worlds, you can always come back to this one. Provided. . .”
“Provided I don’t break the laws
of the Cesspit.”
“Exactly.” You’re now a full-fledged Player. Dismissed.”
A “full-fledged Player”! That didn’t sound like something to be proud of. I sure wouldn’t be bragging about it in decent company. But the sachem had spoken and I’d heard him. I bowed just in case and hurried outside, wiping away the sweat that had broken out on my face.
One of the guards stopped me outside. I tucked my head into my shoulders and was just about to rewind time when he handed me my knife. Whew. I’d forgotten all about it.
Other Players didn’t seem to notice me. They ignored me entirely; a few eyed me with contempt. Well, so much the better. I didn’t have to worry about fitting in. This was just like the regular human world. No one gave a damn about anyone else.
