Hero

by Dan Sugralinov

  Dimedrol, however, kept sending reminders delivered by goons with predatory eyes who darkly hinted at some potential accidents involving Gleb’s kids or something even worse happening to his wife, adding that it would be in his own interests not to delay his payments.

  His family was still none the wiser even though his wife must have suspected something because she’d stopped talking to him altogether. It looked like she was about to file for divorce. To add insult to injury, Gleb had been fired for constantly not turning up for work — and whenever he had turned up, he was drunk.

  Having told me all that, Gleb passed out right in front of me.

  I carried him to the couch, surprised at how much weight he’d lost since our last meeting. He seemed to weigh barely a hundred pounds, like a teenager.

  I sat next to him and spent a long time looking at his gaunt face, the days of stubble, the disheveled hair. He looked old before his time. Even in his sleep he couldn’t relax. He wheezed heavily, breathing in fits, and startled as if fruitlessly trying to escape a never-ending nightmare.

  It took him about an hour to finally fall into a deep sleep. His features softened; he must have dreamed about playing with his children on a snow-white beach by the sea as his wife smiled at them from a deck chair.

  The idea which had started to form as he was recounting his somber story to me had by now crystallized into a clear-cut plan.

  “Sleep, sleep, my friend. Everything will come out fine. I’ll make sure you take your family to the sea, after all.”

  I powered up the laptop, opened the browser and found an online poker school site.

  To the accompaniment of Gleb’s snoring, I spent the next several hours studying their content until I’d brought my Poker Playing skill up to 4. Interestingly, during the last hour, my advance had almost stopped and any more theory study wasn’t producing any results.

  I looked at my Lucky Ring of Veles, kissed it and opened an online poker site.

  “Come on now, let’s play!”

  Chapter Fourteen. The Cheater

  He who’s not afraid of looking like a fool can fool anyone.

  Alexander Zorich, Rapid Fire

  “MIAOW,” Boris said gently as she jumped onto my lap and nudged my chest with her nose.

  “Wait a sec. You’ll get your breakfast in a moment,” I checked my watch, “say, in thirty or forty minutes?”

  Normally, I needed at least three hours of sleep. I didn’t have any training with Kostya that morning and I could give my running a miss. So I had until 8 a.m. to get some sleep which meant I had to go to bed around 4.30. It was now almost 3 a.m. and I had another 30% left to make my target level 5 in Poker.

  I’d only put $20 on the game account. I wasn’t striving for big wins at the moment. I only needed to level up.

  The main difference with online poker is that you can’t see your opponents’ faces. As a result, you can’t read their reactions, both to their own cards and everybody else’s. Novice poker players who can’t control their emotions very well can be easily discerned within the first hour of a real-world game. They behave somewhat differently depending on the hand they have. They bluff both ways, pretending a weak hand to be strong, and vice versa — but provided your Insight is sufficient, you can read them like an open book.

  When you play online, however, you don’t see your opponents’ faces. That’s when you have to pay attention to their way of playing. I spent the whole first hour doing just that, trying to play as unpredictably as I could. I’d raise the stakes with an empty hand, then lay again, fearful, the moment someone counterattacked, and basically, did everything to create the impression I was a “fish” — poker slang for a newbie. I wasn’t sure that any of the players had paid any attention to it — not at this petty bets stage, anyway — but those who had, must have drawn their own conclusions.

  Wrong conclusions, I have to admit, because as soon as I’d studied everybody else, I’d stopped betting on everything in sight and started playing in accordance with pure mathematics and the theory of probability, calculating my hand’s chances against the bank. By then, my partners must have been convinced they were dealing with a risk-taking idiot because they began to respond to my bets and raises exactly when I wanted them to.

  In the following hours, out of about thirty rounds I only had four decent hands. No idea what exactly had been at work here: whether it was pure chance, my good calculations or my high Luck numbers in combination with the Ring of Veles, but out of those four good hands three had brought in excellent winnings while the fourth one ended with my opponent throwing his hand in, not wanting to risk it.

  So now I was going all-in with two pairs on a flop of K and 10, with 5 as a third card. Both my remaining opponents had already demonstrated their inability to stop even when they’d been dealt terrible hands, so there was a decent chance of them staying in the game.

  And that’s exactly what happened. Both of them called, but one of them had three 5s which beat my hand.

  I mentally kissed my money goodbye. The entire range of emotions flashed through my heart in a mere couple of seconds, from anger and resentment — because the turn didn’t change anything — to hope and unbridled joy as another 10 came on the river. I had a senior full house.

  I’d won.

  I stared at my chips and the number $238 next to them, sensing the long-forgotten gambler’s high. In just two hours, I’d multiplied my money twelvefold!

  My heart was racing, bringing my heart rate well over 160. I hadn’t had such a pulse rate for a long time, even during my training sessions.

  You’d think the money was negligible. But had I placed larger bets...

  Bang! A new system message came down like a guillotine,

  You’re experiencing a Gambler’s High!

  Warning! You’re playing a game of chance! A massive surge of hormones has been detected: adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, endorphin...

  Your breathing and heart rate have increased. Your reactions to pain and external stimuli are weakened. You’re at risk of experiencing manic obsession.

  Your metabolic rate has increased 33%.

  Warning! You’re at risk of losing control and acting irrationally to the point of becoming dysfunctional.

  Warning! High probability of spontaneously developing the Gambler debuff:

  -1 to Perception every 72 hrs.

  -2 to Intellect every 72 hrs.

  -10% to Satisfaction every 2 hrs.

  -10% to Vigor every 2 hrs.

  -75% to Self-Control

  -75% to Decision Making

  The abhorrent memories of my and Gleb’s ignominious gambling past flashed through my mind. My scared hand pressed the “Close window” icon almost on its own accord.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Self-Control

  Current level: 5

  XP received: 500

  Current level: 15. XP points gained: 12950/16000

  I rubbed my eyes and face, stretched my numb limbs, then got up quickly from the table and walked over to the balcony. Despite the AC blazing, Gleb’s breathing did nothing to freshen up the air in the room, filling it with the powerful stench of stale alcohol.

  Gradually I came back to my senses. I needed to sort a few things out, so I summoned Martha.

  “Hi, Phil!” she said. “Are you all right? You look a bit... tired.”

  “Hi yourself. Could you check the logs for me, please?”

  “I’ve already done it. Would you like me to look for something in particular?”

  “I’m curious about the Gambler debuff. In the description of the Gambler’s High it says that it can develop spontaneously.”

  “It can indeed. It depends on a lot of factors: whether the user’s life is exciting and eventful in other respects, his or her degree of happiness overall, as well as the respective levels of their spirit, willpower, self-control and self-discipline. These are only the main things.”

&
nbsp; “And how long can it last?”

  “In the case of an average human not being assisted by the interface, both the degree of addiction and the probability of recovery are comparable to those of alcohol and drug addiction. In the case of an interface user, it may take anywhere from seven to forty-nine days, depending on the development of the aforementioned skills. The debuff unfolds in several stages...”

  “I got it. Don’t worry.”

  We spent the next few minutes in silence as I weighed up all the risks. Poker playing still figured heavily in my plans to save Gleb, with the sole difference that now I’d have to finish playing before receiving the debuff. Otherwise such low Self-Control and Decision Making numbers could make me unfit for work for a good week at least. Not to mention Vigor and Satisfaction which might be a struggle to keep up.

  “Okay, Marth. I think I’d better go to bed.”

  “One moment, Phil.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Could you activate me more often, please? It would be a good idea if you asked my advice before making any big decisions. Because, you know, two heads...”

  “...are better than one, is that it? Very well, girl. In this case, I have something else to ask you. You don’t happen to have a real-life prototype, do you?”

  She gave me a teasing smile. “The current level of your Insight skill is insufficient to access the information you’ve requested. Bye, Phil. See you.”

  She disappeared. I yawned heartily, realizing that I felt okay again. The Gambler’s High was gone. In theory, I could go and play some more to bring the Poker Playing skill up to 5. Instead, I logged back in to the site from my phone, transferred my winnings to my bank card and went to sleep.

  My overwrought brain was still buzzing, my eidetic memory offering me images of mismatched playing cards, winning combinations and growing stacks of chips. I forced all that junk out of my head, replacing it with pictures of sheep jumping over a fence.

  By the ninety-sixth sheep, I was asleep.

  * * *

  I’D FORGOTTEN to reset the interface alarm clock, hadn’t I? It dutifully woke me up at 6 a.m. I’d have loved to have slept in but this bastard program had dutifully chosen “the best awakening time based upon the user’s sleep cycle” so I was wide awake now. I tossed and turned some more, fruitlessly trying to go back to sleep but my brain was already fully awake and making plans for today.

  At work, I still had to finish up yesterday’s conversation with Kesha. I had big plans for him in our future outsourcing sales department. I just hoped he’d agree.

  I also had to come up with a job role for Veronica. Headhunting services, why not? The only problem was, I hadn't yet tried to use my search function in reverse order — that is to say, trying not to match a man to a company but a company to a man.

  Should I try now, maybe?

  I opened the interface and activated the map, then conjured up the image of our agency, using all the KIDD points known to me: our name, address, field of expertise, and its workers: myself, Stacy and Alik. Keeping this data in mind, I tried to put myself in the shoes of some imaginary commercial director who’d be competent enough to sell our B2B services. I added some personal traits to the person’s description: good communication skills, experience in sales, high energy levels, efficiency and integrity.

  Then I clicked Search.

  The map of Russia lit up with hundreds of green markers. I restricted the search to our city. About twenty markers were still left. I added another search parameter regarding their wages and commission.

  That left me with six.

  I added another search parameter: the probability of quitting their current work and moving to our agency. That left me with two: a certain Irina Soltzman, 27 years old, and... Innokenty “Kesha” Dimidko, 34 years old.

  Bingo.

  By now, I knew too much about the role of luck to believe in such coincidences. Even if you took my agency, I’d come across that business center by sheer coincidence: I’d simply called them and spoken to Gorelik, of all people, exactly when I’d needed something to show Vicky.

  On a hunch, I repeated the entire procedure, this time looking for a PR director, and heaved a sigh of relief. Veronica wasn’t the best person by far. There were much stronger candidates.

  Wait a sec. I’d forgotten to add the wage filter! I ran the four runners-up through it which left me with only one candidate: our beautiful carrot top. Judging by the search results, she was quite prepared to work for ten grand a month.

  Curiouser and curiouser. Or could the search results have had something to do with the fact that I knew them both and that I’d helped them? Was that why the program had picked them? Possible.

  I still needed to call that Panchenko guy, Ultrapak’s new commercial director, and offer him our sales services. It wasn’t too urgent but then again, procrastination wasn’t really my thing. I’d already met Valiadis without any help from Ivanov. But it looked like the chain of events that had started with our conversation had to end with my offering our cooperation to Panchenko.

  If so, so be it. I didn’t really care about his response. All I cared about was bringing this whole thing to its logical conclusion.

  That was workwise. As for non-job-related stuff, my priorities were visiting Cyril in hospital and if possible, check out the other antique shops in town. You never know, I might come across something worthwhile again.

  And the most important and difficult task for today was to save Gleb from the loan sharks.

  I splashed some water on my face and headed off for a run. I hadn’t planned on training this morning but seeing as I’d been stupid enough not to have reset the alarm, I might just as well make the most of these morning hours.

  My Stamina was still at level 11 and showing no intention of growing, but at least I’d earned my 6% progress by running this morning.

  When I’d come back home, something in the peacefully sleeping Gleb had attracted my attention. His eyeballs under his closed eyelids moved frantically. Whatever he was dreaming of, his stats left a lot to be desired. Even in his sleep, he was still frightened — and I knew perfectly well what it was. He was too scared of losing his family and his home — and with that, probably also his life.

  By “life” I didn’t mean his physical existence but everything that had made up his life in the past few years.

  I studied his stats. He had plenty of debuffs: Gambler, Alcohol Addiction and Nicotine Addiction, all of them well-advanced. Those were only the major ones, not to even mention all the contributing ones, such as Nicotine Withdrawal, Intoxication, Exhaustion and even Thirst — apparently caused by last night’s beer binge.

  And if you added to this all the secondary characteristics, it was time to sound the alarm and put him in a hospital ward. His Vitality was just over 60%, his Satisfaction virtually negative, his Vigor non-existent, his Confidence, Self-Control, Spirit and Mood all in the red.

  My friend needed healing.

  I picked up my vibrating phone from the table and went out onto the balcony in order not to wake up Gleb. “Hello?”

  “Sorry for calling so early,” a voice said. “I’m from a courier service. I’ve got a packet for you. Are you going to be at home by midday?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ll still be at work.”

  “Can I drop it off at your workplace?”

  “Sure. Here’s the address. It’s the Chekhov Business Center...”

  Having finished talking, I wondered briefly who it might be from, then promptly forgot all about it.

  Feeling energized after a hot and cold shower, I made a huge quantity of the strongest tea, courtesy of the landlord’s enormous teapot. I then rummaged through my medicine cabinet for some Aspirin and Analgin[33], pulled a new bottle of water out of the fridge and went to wake Gleb up.

  “Wakey wakey!”

  He mumbled something in his sleep. I had to shake him awake.

  “Eh? What? Phil?” he croaked, barely moving his
parched lips.

  “Drink this,” I offered him the bottle.

  As he gulped it down, I handed him a couple of Aspirins and an Analgin. “Take this.”

  He was so apathetic he didn’t even ask what pills I was feeding him. He just nonchalantly popped them in his mouth and took a swig from the bottle.

  Now that his Thirst debuff icon had disappeared, he started frisking his pockets.

  “Not now,” I said. “You can have a smoke later. Take a shower first. You stink so bad even the cat won’t come near you.”

  “Come on, Phil! Let me have a smoke and then I’ll take a shower.”

  “Now listen up,” I said. “This is how it’s going to be now. Do you remember what you told me last night? About your debts and the loan sharks who threaten to take your apartment away? Remember what you said about some thugs threatening your children?”

  His face changed. He sprang from the couch.

  “Sit yourself back down,” I said. “Is it true or not?”

  I knew it was true. I’d had Lie Detection on last night. Still, I really wanted him to realize the sheer depth of the abyss he’d found himself in — the abyss he’d so naively hoped to avoid by escaping into his fantasy world of hitting the jackpot.

  He nodded.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yes... it’s true.”

  “Is it also true that you want to take your family away to the seaside?”

  “Yes,” he shrugged. “I can’t even think about it at the moment. Only if...” his face lit up with hope. “You did promise to lend me some money, didn’t you? Now I know exactly how I’m going to play! I’ll be smart! I’ll be extra careful! I’ll do it in small steps! I know how to win it all back!”

  “You don’t know jack shit, mister. Can you think logically for a second?”