The response was another uproarious fit of laugher, which would have done justice to any stable. Sasha even squatted down right there on the sidewalk and began slapping his knees.
“Oh, Kiera…” he managed somehow. “Is this the effect we’re having on you or were you always so cruel?”
“The plan occurred to me a while ago, but since I’m switching to the Dark Side, I guess it’s time to put my evil machinations into motion.”
“See?” Sasha said to Pasha proudly. “My young and talented student is already making progress! Onward, Darth Lori. A well-room awaits, full of pungent mineral water!”
Given that Sasha dressed up in imitation of Fievel from the eponymous cartoon, his appearance was quite…singular. For whatever reason, his red shit and yellow neckerchief didn’t evoke a Sith Lord, and the ten-gallon hat didn’t give him more gravitas.
Ironically or coincidentally (depending on which you prefer), the well-room turned out to be a venerable building of white stone, stone columns and tables outfitted with the strangest taps I’d ever seen. There were no sensors here, no motion sensors—a simple old-fashioned button which you pressed to get the water to come out. And the water looked just like the one from the tap in the kitchen, but its scent was quite different. Looking around, I saw a vending machine full of glasses—from disposable ones that cost a penny to oddly-shaped ones with spouts like the ancient teapots I’d seen in the movies.
“What’s this mug with a trunk?” I asked surprised.
“That’s for drinking mineral water, Kiera. You pour the water in the top and drink from the spout. The idea is that you can drink this way while lying on your back without spilling anything on yourself.”
“All right you gourmands. Try everything out, enjoy yourselves,” Sasha interrupted, scrunching his long (or ‘aristocratic,’ as he had characterized this facial misunderstanding) nose in disgust. “Meanwhile, I, as a person who is sick and tired of Narzan, will wait for you outside.”
He produced a spintronic cigarette from his pocket—the descendant of the e-cigarettes invented at the beginning of the century for those who wanted to quit smoking—stuck it in his mouth and headed for the exit, having pushed his hat back onto the back of his head.
“What a fopling,” Pasha muttered gently in his wake. “So what should we begin with?”
“Let’s buy a mug that I can drink from lying down,” I announced decisively and stuck my card into the machine.
Drinking from the newly-acquired vessel was fun and pretty convenient, once I got used to it. It was like a stationary straw. The mineral water, on the other hand, I had mixed feelings about. This well-room had three different types: Two taps poured water from hot springs and one from a cold spring. The hottest, which was about 40 degrees, was utterly revolting to both taste and smell. The warm one turned out to be pretty tolerable, and the cold one was almost like the kind you’d buy in the store, only a bit carbonated and entirely free.
“No way!” I shared my impressions. “A question—why aren’t there lines of mineral-water-nerds here with cisterns on their shoulders?”
“Why who the hell needs this stuff?” Pasha asked, astounded. “After an hour and a half the springs are exhausted and you get ordinary smelly water, like from a puddle that’s been filtered,” he glanced up behind me and yelled: “Cut it out! Sasha! Kiera, stop him!”
‘Him’ was Alex who had begun a conversation with two representatives of the local street-life, bums who were wearing their customary T-shirts with holo-images of expensive cars, bright gym pants and high-tops festooned with several expensive brand labels at once.
I did not understand who had to be stopped and why: The conversation seemed peaceful enough and had clearly not transitioned from ‘Hey, buy us a beer,’ to a more critical phase. It’d be nice to call local law enforcement so that they could get here before this critical phase began, but why Pasha was demanding that I stop his friend remained a mystery…which was solved less than a second later when Sasha took off his hat and then…I didn’t see the blow. The bum was simply standing there and suddenly he threw up his arms and flopped down on his ass. His companion turned out to be a bit more intelligent—as soon as Sasha dropped his friend, the other bum turned and ran, yelling, “I’ll find you, you fuck!”
“You already found me!” Sasha yelled in reply. “Come back and pick up this trash you left here!”
Oddly this generous offer received no response. Hearing it, the bum hunched his shoulders around his head and pumped his feet with redoubled effort. Sasha whistled in his wake but didn’t continue the chase, preferring to return to us. Seeing this, the ‘casualty’ stopped shaking his head, got to his feet and stole away limping.
“Does this happen frequently with him?” I asked Pasha. I had seen my share of fights but I’d never seen one end so quickly.
“He’s a pain in the neck!” Pasha fumed, guiding his chair to the exit. “Not a day goes by without some adventure…What the hell is wrong with you, Sasha?”
Sasha looked down guiltily and admitted unwillingly:
“I wigged out. They say, let them have it in the teeth so hard that their heads start to smoke. Well, so I let them have it…”
Pasha drilled his friend with his stare and then waved his hand:
“It’s easier to put you down than retrain you. When are you going to stop swinging your fists around? You could have simply explained things to them…”
“They wouldn’t understand. They’re bums,” sighed Sasha. “Kiera, you uh, well, forgive me.”
“I’ve been friends with Beast since childhood,” I shrugged. “I’m used to it. Only difference is, it typically starts with, ‘Hey, Kiera, hold my axe.’”
Judging by Sasha’s face, this wasn’t much consolation.
“It’s always this way with him,” Pasha explained. “First his reflexes kick in and later his brains. All right, you C-list last action hero, what’s for dinner?”
“I have baked a fish,” reported Sasha. “In aluminum foil. Oh Kiera, I forgot to ask, do you eat fish?”
“I’ll try it and find out. Let’s head home. All this mineral water has got me starving like a beast.”
As it turned out, there was no band practice as such. As soon as the guys heard about my joining the side of Shadow, they placed the instruments to the side and began to discuss the news.
“Get out!” Straus said for the millionth time. “This is the hot thing! After that video Anastaria uploaded, everyone wants to know about Geranika and what he’s up to.”
“What video?” Charsky and I asked in unison.
“Are you two not aware of the latest and greatest?” Straus stared at us, clearly struck by the depths of our ignorance.
“No, why?” Hal said what everyone was thinking.
“To understand what’s going on in the world, you newbs!” Straus replied admonishingly, reaching for his tablet. “Hang on, I’ll show you. It’s all about joining the Dark Side.”
We stared at the keyboardist with interest as he looked up the video.
“Here. The video was edited together from footage recorded in different capsules: Anastaria’s, Plinto’s and some other players’.”
The video really was pretty interesting. Extremely so, actually. A certain player named Mahan, who played as a shaman, agreed to become Geranika’s student, wiped out a metric mob of players in a scenario, underwent a series of trials, earned a new spell for the entire class and at the last moment, rejected his apprenticeship and impaled Geranika on a unicorn’s horn. As a result of these epic events, shamans, warriors, rogues, paladins and druids from all over the continent unlocked new abilities that would help them fight the creatures of Shadow.
“Damn, that’s cool,” Beast summed up everyone’s opinion after the video had ended. “So Kiera was supposed to figure a way out and unlock new spells for the bards, and instead she just ended up a renegade?”
“Looks like it,” Straus tossed his tablet on the ancient sofa and
pensively played the familiar chords from the Doors’ classic on his keyboard. “This is the end, beautiful friend. This is the end, my only friend, the end…”
“Screw all that,” I waved them away. “At least now I have access to the renegades and perhaps even Geranika. I can record any new happenings. Imagine how they’ll spread across the webz…We need to hurry and record something that fits. If we work it out, everyone will hear it when they watch the video.”
“I uphold this motion,” Charsky nodded his shaggy head. “Kiera, your task is to get into every nook and cranny of the renegades’ camp and shake everyone down for info, so we can get as much material as possible. To hell with rep, penalties and the ruin of your character. The most important thing is the video and the content. Everyone else gets to work on suitable music. We’ll meet once a day and each person will present what they have. This doesn’t extend to you Kiera—you’re working on the Geranika thing. You can join us whenever you die.”
“I can think of some tunes in-game too. I’ll send you the video and you can edit it yourselves,” I proposed.
“Uh-huh, let’s do it that way,” Beast hummed approvingly. “Just try and send us any interesting footage you get. We’ll be working on it as it comes in. And now, turn the holoprojector off and get in that capsule. Oh and say hi to Pasha and Sasha.”
“Will do.”
The indicated individuals were waiting for me at a decked-out table and welcomed the new plan with measured skepticism and immeasurable appetite.
“Ah’ you shure…you…wont…” Sasha said with a stuffed mouth, for which he earned an unkind look from Chip. Getting the hint, he swallowed his mouthful and went on with his question: “…get sick of marinating in the capsule for days on end?”
“Well if I manage to avoid dying, then I’ll marinate as long as I can. I think the embassy should be arriving soon and that means that things will come to a head. I need to make it in time for that momentous occasion.”
“And what am I supposed to do all alone?” Chip asked pitifully. “Killing bunnies on my lonesome is pretty boring. Maybe I should join the schismatics too?”
“They’re renegades, not schismatics,” I corrected Pasha proudly. “I don’t know…Maybe let’s play it differently? When you respawn, ask for a meeting with Eben and tell him that I joined the renegades as a double agent and that I’ll be sending him information through you. In this manner, you’ll get embroiled in the conflict, but on the other side, which will help us see the full picture a lot better.”
Pasha thought a bit, twirled his juice straw in his fingers and replied:
“Yeah, we could do it this way. There’s even a chance that they’ll forgive you in exchange for your work, but…I’m not Austin Powers or James Bond. I’m not sure I’m much of a spy at all, in fact.”
“There is time for us to consider what to do,” I sighed. Meanwhile, Sasha had perked up.
“Heed me, oh Darth Lori, now you can cross the Arras without any trouble, so you can pick me up and then take me with you on your way back. You’ve already borked your reputation and I couldn’t care what those triffids think.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you were sick of the game?” I asked with surprise.
“I mean, it’s not like I’ll have anything to do anyway if you two are stuck in your glorified jars day and night. Lena’s wedding’s over, the barbecue’s eaten, the vodka’s drunk and now there’s nothing to do. And here’s a chance to become a Sith Lord.”
He made a grimace worthy of an epic hero of antiquity caught in the loo—his best imitation of Darth Maul.
“And how will you get through half a continent’s worth of raging mobs?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“By means of shuttle diplomacy,” Sasha replied enigmatically. “You just make sure to make it through to the Arras. I’ll hash out the details once you’re there. And while you’re at it, you should map the blighted part of the forest along the way.”
“Deal!” I raised the wine glass full of juice and triumphantly announced: “To the Dark Side of the Force!”
Three glasses clinked against each other, welcoming the arrival of a new life in Barliona.
“To the Shadow Bard.”
End of Book One
__________________________
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From the Authors:
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