by Dmitry Bilik
Devils
Mission from the Order of Guards
Charged with: behaving aggressively, attacking commoners
Sentence: death
Location: in the vicinity of the local automobile factory. No commute required.
Proof of completion: devils’ ears
Reward: 10 grams
Feral House Goblin
Mission from the Order of Guards
Charged with: aggressive behavior, impairment of commoners’ psychological state
Sentence: catch and bring to the branch office of the Order of Guards
Location: The Grand Grocery Market
Reward: 15 grams
“So! The Seers have already gotten on it, I see,” Hunter said behind me.
“Who are they?”
“The order of psychics, to speak in human terms. They’re empaths and clairvoyants, if you will. They knew the Chorul was killed because they sensed it. But they don’t yet know where it happened; they only have suspicions. For now...”
I imagined going to these Seers and telling them about the location of the murdered Chorul. Three hundred grams would just fall out of nowhere. But that brought up another question: what would happen to me after that? I just hoped they wouldn’t lock me up in some secret underground lab to experiment on me.
“Why are some pieces of paper dark and others white? I could barely read about that mage, Talsian. The parchment is practically brown.”
“See for yourself,” Hunter said, motioning to the wall.
At that moment, a Player walked over to it, looked at the ads and pulled one off.
Then something strange happened. The piece of paper divided in two. Now it was simultaneously in his hand and on the wall. The one in his hand lit up and disappeared, while the one on the wall darkened.
Now it all made sense. That way you could tell which missions were more popular.
“How come no one’s taking the feral house goblin or those devils? The pieces of paper are almost pure white.”
“What, to run around town like a headless chicken for 10 grams?” Hunter made a face. “It’s not worth the while.”
“In that case, can’t you just collect a bunch of papers? Then when you happen to be in the right place, you just...”
“You’re not the only smart one here. You can’t take on more than ten missions at once. All that’s left on the board is garbage, the unpopular missions. If you come in the morning, you can raise up to 40 or 50 grams without leaving the city if you work hard enough. Without putting yourself in danger, mind you.”
“Hunter, you old Cabiri dog, I haven’t seen you in ages!” an Archalus exclaimed, heading toward us.
While Hunter was thus distracted, I hurried over to the wall and tore off the two missions that applied to our city. The sheets of paper flashed and disappeared, leaving two notifications in the air to my right which too faded almost straight away. One said, Devils, the other, Feral House Goblin.
Hunter turned around, so I had to pretend I was studying the messages on the board. He quickly wrapped up his conversation with the Archalus and came over to me. He was clearly about to ask a question, so I started talking first. It’s common knowledge that a good offense is the best defense.
“How come that some of them order you to kill the offenders while others just tell you to catch them or talk some sense into them?”
“That’s because the decision is influenced by the differences in their intelligence levels. For example, devils, they are just... devils. Pointless trying to reason with them. But a house goblin or a mountain giant are perfectly capable of communicating with sentient beings. In which case everything depends on you. You shouldn’t think that the Guards are harsh. They do their best to be fair.”
“OK. And if you kill an evil creature, does it improve your karma?”
“If you’re completing a mission, no. In that case the whole burden is on whoever issues the missions. Have you finished looking around?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s go. You’ve seen the most important things. You’ll have plenty of time to study this place. You’ve been told about the laws of the Cesspit. Now I’ll tell you the unspoken rules. For now try not to initiate conversations. You don’t know what might offend an Archalus or an Abbas. Don’t give them any attitude. And again, don’t joke around. Not everyone will understand. And above all, try not to annoy anyone.”
“If I quietly hang myself somewhere in a back lane, would that annoy anyone?”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t be such a smartass. It’s easy to provoke conflict. Some Seekers intentionally go for that.”
“What a boring place.”
Hunter ignored my statement. “How’s your job, all right?”
“Fine. It's my shift tomorrow.”
“What do you do?”
For the first time since this whole Game stuff had started, I felt embarrassed. On the one hand, there’s no such thing as a bad career. Uncle Nick himself wasn’t exactly elite. On the other hand, I wanted to make a good impression on him.
But, as they say, that wasn’t on the cards.
“I’m a warehouse loader.”
“What are your hours?”
“Ten to seven.”
“You should quit.”
“What, just like that?”
“If you don’t, you won’t have the time to level up. As a Player, even if you’re an errand boy, you can earn much more. Or are you an ideological loader?”
“Ideological? Is that a joke?”
Not a muscle moved on Hunter’s face. “Of course. You’re not the only one who knows how to be funny. Many Players in the Cesspit have jobs if they live in one place for a long time, meaning that they’re on the books somewhere. Just so as not to attract the commoners’ attention.”
“OK, I’ll give it a think. By the way, I have a question. At the Tavern they asked me if I wanted to pay in dust or cash. Can you change one for the other? I’m having some cash problems at the moment.”
Hunter nodded. “Of course.”
We returned to the square and headed to a small, round kiosk, like the ones where you buy tickets for city events. There was a slate board hanging above it with currency exchange rates written on it. Holy crap. 1 gram cost a whopping $11.50.
“We’d like to exchange some dust for cash, please,” Hunter said.
A tiny mechanical scale appeared behind the grilled window. I couldn’t see the money changer’s face. But seeing as Uncle Nick was standing next to me, I might take the risk.
I took out the small bag and poured out 10 grams of dust. After a momentary delay, I was paid cash. They even gave me the petty copper change, every penny of it.
“I need to go,” Hunter said, looking around rather than directly at me. “If you finish your business before midnight, come by. If not, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. Good luck,” he shook my hand and headed out of the community.
Two figures immediately set off after him. One of them must have been Eriol, judging by his orange skin.
It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to react. Should I be a good citizen and warn Hunter? Unfortunately, three seconds wouldn’t be enough in this case. I’d only attract attention. I wasn’t quite ready yet to risk my own hide for my neighbor.
I pulled out my phone to call him but I still couldn’t get a signal. Dammit! I ran out into the alley after the Players, but there was no one there. I reached the exit and nearly shouted with joy: my cell had signal now, two bars out of three. Better than nothing.
I dialed Hunter. Either his phone was off or he was out of range. Bummer!
I felt like shit. All I could do was hope that Uncle Nick was the seasoned Player he appeared to be.
I glanced at my watch. It was almost 3 p.m.. I needed to dash home, take a quick shower, and bolt to my parents’ house. If I was late, the consequences would be so dire that they’d make death seem like a mere misunderstanding.
Chapter 7<
br />
THE HARDEST THING for parents is to accept that their children are growing up. They need to take their decisions seriously, learn to live with the mistakes they make because of their lack of experience, and stop talking down to them, treating them like adults instead. There are parents who undergo this rite of passage when their child is 16, and others who go through it when the child is over 20. My mother, though, still saw me as she always had, as her little boy.
“Sergei, have you lost weight? You look pale.”
Of course I’m pale! I’m a Korl, aren’t I? I nearly blurted out.
I looked around the entryway. Judging by all the shoes, my sisters had already assembled. It made sense for Darya: she was only 17 and still lived at home. But Lily, who was perpetually late, had also arrived. That made things awkward.
But what was with those filthy army boots? I looked at Mom questioningly.
“Uncle Denis just got back from an expedition,” she explained.
That was amazing news. Uncle Denis stood out among my father’s tiresome friends, his presence illuminating the memory of my childhood. He would burst into our mundane life, bearing a heap of gifts or just interesting things from his expeditions, and then disappear again. Uncle Denis was a geologist and he was one of those rare people who loved his job.
I went into the living room with a huge smile on my face and froze.
One of those rare people? You sure could say that.
Uncle Denis was a Korl.
Just like my father.
And here I was wondering how two such different people could have become friends. It was all so simple. You could call it a sort of genetic attraction.
“Are you gonna stand like that all night?” a blond Korl with familiar eyes asked in my father’s voice.
“He’s practicing for the part of the wife of Lot,” Uncle Denis joined in. “Hey, Sergei!”
I managed to unstick myself and went to shake his hand, glancing around at everyone else. Strangely, the Korl features weren’t very pronounced in my sisters. No, of course I could see that they’d changed: their hair and eyes had become lighter, but not much. Mom was just as she’d always been.
“Sit down, Sergei,” she said.
I plopped down at the table.
“Nice sweater,” Lily said.
“Did you get it in a thrift store?” promptly butted in my youngest sister — a.k.a. our family’s trolling queen.
She had no idea how right she was. I decided to change the subject. “Uncle Denis, when did you get back?”
“Today. I’m fresh off the boat — or plane, rather. You can see how lucky I got. Finally I might get some human food.”
“It’s a good thing you showed up,” Darya said. “Otherwise we’d be stuck listening to the latest news about the economy and about how Sergei has disappointed our parents,” she put an imaginary gun to her head and pretended to shoot herself.
I found it odd that my father didn’t react. It must be true what they say about younger siblings getting all the love. If I said something like that, I’d definitely be scolded. But in Darya’s case, my father was pretending not to notice.
“So, Sergei, are you still disappointing your father?” Uncle Denis asked with a wink.
“I stay up at night thinking about what else I can do to let him down,” I said.
“You’ve already done everything you need to,” my father retorted.
“Stop,” my mother intervened. “Why don’t you take some salad? Denis, it has beans in it, just the way you like.”
“Oh, I missed my chance with you, Nadia. I should have never let this chump chase after you,” Uncle Denis chuckled. “I fell asleep at the switch. But then Sergei would be disappointing me now.”
“What with all your traveling, he might still have been my son,” my father said coolly.
The rest of our supper proceeded relatively calmly. Uncle Denis entertained everyone, Mom and my sisters laughed loudly, and even Dad had a good-natured smile on his face. It was perfect. No chance of me being thrust back into the limelight.
“Sergei, let’s go have a smoke.”
We threw on our jackets and went out to the balcony. Uncle Denis smoked greedily, taking deep tugs on his cigarette. Incidentally, that’s also how he lived. He hated to do things halfway.
“Sergei, can be we serious for a minute? What’re you up to at the moment?”
“Oh, I can’t just sum it up like that.”
“Please understand that your father isn’t bothered just for the sake of it. He has his quirks, and there are lots of things I disagree with him about. But you’re almost thirty.”
“I’m quitting my job tomorrow.”
“Are you really? What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Freelance,” I lied.
“What kind of abomination is that?”
“Uncle Denis, don’t pretend to be clueless. I know that you’re smart.”
“Smart is as smart does, Sergei. OK, I’m aware of what freelance is. Could you be more specific?”
“A courier company. I’ll give it a go, then I might hire a couple of people to help me. Just don’t tell anybody.”
Your Lying skill has increased to level 1.
“You know me. Silent as the grave.”
I didn’t regret my lie at all. So yeah, I’d lied. It wasn’t even really a lie — more like a half truth. I really was quitting my job, and it was true that I would be doing little errands that were a bit like courier jobs. And I especially couldn’t tell a clueless commoner the whole truth.
A new notification flashed open before my eyes. It hung in the air briefly, then began to fade.
The Wandering House Goblin mission has been updated.
If you catch the house goblin within the next 24 hours, your reward will increase by 15 grams.
Explanations have been added.
OK, what were these explanations? I mentally opened the mission and found the note at the bottom:
To enter the place where the house goblin lives, simply tell the commoners you work for pest control. If they demand certification, show them the paper that contains the mission.
“Cat got your tongue, Sergei?”
“I was just busy thinking about my life.”
“Oh, you can’t do that on a sober head. Thinking goes much better with some vodka. Let’s go unload.”
“Sorry, Uncle Denis, I need to run.”
“Why, whassup?”
“Well, you see... there’s this girl...”
Lying was like skiing downhill. Once you start, it’s hard to stop.
“You’ve traded your friends for chicks?” Uncle Denis asked in mock anger. “That’s what you kids do. In my time, half the girls’ dormitory went through me. Hm, I seem to be rambling a bit.”
“D’you think you could cover my back?”
“You’ll owe me one. I’m gonna pay you a surprise visit one day. And then you’ll have to drink with me. Vodka — no, brandy.”
“Please spare my liver.”
“Something that’s already dead can’t die! I heard that on a TV show.”
“Uncle Denis!”
About a half hour later, pleading urgent business, I escaped from the parental nest. My father was on the verge of getting angry, but Uncle Denis distracted him by launching into reminiscences of the good old days.
I couldn’t help it. I was all restless and jittery.
The store where the feral goblin was supposed to be hiding was all of three blocks from my parents’ house. I’d Googled it beforehand. Completing this task first was definitely worth it for me, since it would give me a bonus of 15 grams of dust, or around $170. Not bad.
I lit up a cigarette and punched “pest control” into the search engine. Aha. Apparently, there were a lot of complex methods to eradicate rats and other rodents. So the commoners mistook a house goblin for a rat? Was he really so tiny? Whatever. Let’s go check out this Tom Thumb.
When I was halfway there, I realized
that my breathing had gone south. I got a metallic taste in my mouth. The green Vigor bar was at zero. The message the system was sending me couldn’t have been clearer: a healthy lifestyle would do me a lot of good. Very well. There was no way I’d quit smoking, but at least I might keep on drinking. Joke.
As if to spite the Game, I pulled out a cigarette, took a couple of drags and coughed until my eyes watered. Bastard!
