The Destroying Plague

by Dan Sugralinov

  I heard footsteps approaching. Someone wanted seconds? Apparently so. It was Yemi in the flesh. The shaman didn’t rush to come too close. He stopped at a safe distance and shouted.

  “Whoever you are, I, Yemi Iwobi, and all the Yoruba clan is at your service, great one! Merely summon us…”

  I had a little less than no plague energy whatsoever left, so I had to use a good old bluff. I pulled out my bow, drew it… and an instant later, my fan fled my sight, quitting the game. He ran away!

  Well, since my hospitable hosts had left me alone, that meant I could take their loot. I opened my inventory and swore in happiness; my bag was already full to bursting! Legendaries and epics mixed with garbage like a smoking pipe and empty potion flasks. I threw out the garbage, sighed and started picking up loot the old-fashioned way — by hand. I switched on the Magnetism filter at the same time, so the skill didn’t pull in everything at once.

  In the end there was so much valuable loot that I not only filled up my whole inventory after throwing out my cooking ingredients, but I carried a few things myself. As much as my carrying capacity allowed, of course. I even had someone’s dagger between my teeth. I wouldn’t have gone far that way, but I didn’t have to either.

  Depths Teleportation took me to the temple of Tiamat, the stunned faces of my friends and Bomber’s excited voice.

  “You training to be Santa Claus, Scyth? Christmas is a long way off!”

  I really did look like a Christmas tree covered in dangerous toys. I dropped my hands and a pile of swords, staffs, bows, crossbows and other weapons fell to the ground. Armor fell from under my elbows. Then I threw the rest out of my inventory, and my friends’ jaws dropped further with every next piece of gear until they couldn’t drop any lower; every item was either purple or orange.

  “What does all this mean, bro?” Crawler asked, his gaze serious.

  “Did you all see the snake?” I asked, and the guys nodded. “Well, he carried me off somewhere. I was knocked out, and when I woke up, I was on Shad’Erung. I figured Horvac and his Travelers had taken me. Fortunately, it wasn’t then, it was some dark clan called Yoruba. And they knew who I was! Obviously, they tried to kill me…”

  They listened to me with interest and I only complained that I couldn’t record any of it — Yoruba blocked video recording in their castle.

  “By the way, since they have their own beast-god at their disposal… I think their leader is a Threat. Shame I didn’t have time to check!”

  When I finished my short story, Crawler promised to dig up everything he could on the Yoruba. My intention to take their castle to pieces for resources hadn’t gone anywhere. Infect voiced the idea of putting a temple to the Sleeping Gods there, but it wasn’t realistic; nobody would let us build it or keep it. The place was too easily accessible.

  My friends started going through all the loot and I decided to level up my Archery. I took my best five minions and went to walk the perimeter of the construction site. I wanted to get the skill up to rank one before Distival, because afterwards…

  Afterwards, the landscape might change, and I wanted to be as ready for it as I could be.

  * * *

  The clan didn’t manage to level up as far as we wanted in the previous day. At midnight, our timers activated and kicked us out of the game. An instant before I logged out, I saw that the workers were staying at the construction site at their own risk. Because of the special aura of the place of power, mobs didn’t approach them, and the builders had enough sense not to leave the aura’s area of effect — each of them had tried it at least once and ended up lunch for the Montosaurus. Incidentally, the lost dinosaur still hadn’t shown up. Maybe it got sick from eating the undead?

  In the last lesson, modern history, Greg Kovac told us about one of the most serious problems of human history — overpopulation.

  “At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the planet’s population was only one million people. People died in wars, from hunger, from illness. Few lived to old age. That meant the average age was lower than in our time. Some countries introduced policies to limit birth rates, but that didn’t help. This meant that in the middle of the twenty first century, there were over ten billion of us, and as of now, counting non-citizens, there are twenty…

  According to the history teacher, it was precisely because of overpopulation and a lack of resources that the children of non-citizens were initially deprived of all state support. No free kindergartens, schools, hospitals — it was all on the parents’ shoulders. If they decided to have children, they could bear the consequences. Mr. Kovac made it clear that he fully supported those politics.

  “What can we say about non-citizens,” the teacher shook his head, “if the government was forced to cut back even on your program! In my days, we studied twelve years. For you, unfortunately, your mandatory education lasts only ten years. Although up there,” Greg pointed upwards, “they say that thanks to new technologies, you can absorb the study material more quickly. Think of it...!”

  After our lessons, we flew by my place to grab the Home Doctor. All the Awoken accompanied me apart from Tobias. Our family gadget was far older than the premium version that could perform operations, fix broken bones and alter the state of internal organs. Nonetheless, it could at least make diagnoses by connecting to the global database, and it could perform basic treatment. I was putting my hope in that very ability; if my non-citizen friends were seriously ill, then the entire clan treasury might not be enough to help them.

  The others sat in silence. Tissa was already mentally in tomorrow — we were supposed to be flying straight to Dubai for Distival right after school. Ed was probably thinking about how to deal with the loot I’d collected from the Yoruba clan corpses. The problem of transferring our game gold to real life stood out like a sore thumb.

  Big Hung sat jabbing at his comm. We knew that our friend had met a cute girl from T-Modus in Dis, and he was hoping to meet her at the festival in real life.

  Malik… Malik probably wasn’t thinking about anything serious. He was just looking through the flyer window and smiling. Maybe he was remembering that he’d gotten his hands on some cool legendaries yesterday, a couple of which didn’t have any level requirements.

  We flew over the gardens of Florida, crossed the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, but then, over the continent on the approach to Cali Bottom, we ran into problems. First a police bot forced us to stop. Its matt-black streamlined shape impressed us and… scared us, especially with its plasma machine guns aimed at our flyer.

  “Please keep your hands visible and look in this direction…” we heard from the speakers in the flyer’s cabin.

  We bared our wrists with the invisible identification codes on them. The scanner’s invisible ray read our data, then passed over our faces. We passed the identity check, but still weren’t allowed to fly away.

  “Underage dependent citizens Hung, Schafer, Rodriguez, Abdualim and Sheppard, state the purpose of your visit to the uncategorized zone Cali!”

  We didn’t see who the voice behind the dark glass of the police bot belonged to; it could be a robot or a person. In any case, it sounded genderless. For some time now, the police had been recommended not to introduce themselves.

  Ed lightly shook his head. It wasn’t forbidden to talk to non-citizens, but it did raise questions. What business could respectable citizens have, even underage ones, with the despised inwinova? Remembering how we flew through such districts with Mr. Kovac, I answered:

  “We’re collecting material for a school writing assignment on the subject of citizenship categories and the importance of the concept of citizenship in conditions of overpopulation.”

  “Wait a moment,” the police voice ordered. He stayed quiet for around a minute, then spoke again. “The indicated subject is part of your school’s curriculum. Thank you for cooperating and…” the voice faltered, and it became clear that it was a human speaking. “Be careful, kids. It can be dangerous here.”<
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  The police bot switched off its holding beam and we started moving again. We flew less than three hundred feet before the dot of a military flyer took off from the roof of a building and rushed toward us. One of the ‘Sharks’ that Gyula warned us of.

  Unlike the police bot, it didn’t look respectable in the least. A huge hull with enough space to store a squad of peacekeepers and an EMP cannon, alongside turrets with deadly-looking plasma machine gun barrels. This model had been actively used during the Third World War, and recently became available to private individuals.

  The identification procedure was repeated. We were politely asked to show our wrists, to explain the purpose of our visit to Cali Bottom, only this time my cover story invited a different reaction.

  “Well, well, well… All the Awoken clan members in one flyer. The victors of the Junior Arena, levels… hidden. Heh. How’s it going, guys?”

  “Who are you?” Ed asked impassively.

  The Shark door opened, revealing a heavyset man in a camouflage uniform. He lifted his helmet visor and we saw that he was over forty, with grey hair.

  “Speaking to you, boy, is Hairo Morales, officer of the Excommunicado clan security service. And you must be Crawler, the fire mage. What’s your level, mage? And what about you, Scyth? Infect? Bomber? You guys are in the one percent of players that don’t want to advertise their progress. I won’t ask Tissa, she has nothing to hide… at least, yet. What is it, girl, did you hit the ceiling in the sandbox?”

  “Since when has it been forbidden to hide your profile, Mr. Morales?” Hung asked, smiling widely.

  “Since the preventers realized that the only people that hide it are people with something to hide. And you guys are under suspicion. Land your flyer and we’ll talk. I won’t ask a second time. The cops here are well fed, and there isn’t anyone else to seriously investigate the tragic crash of a public transport flyer with a few students on board…”

  “What a mess, …!” Ed swore.

  While I deliberately slowly flew the flyer to the roof of a skyscraper, we thought over our course of action: we’d stick to our story. We were writing a school assignment. Why in Cali Bottom? We knew some workers here from Tristad, and they’d agreed to show us their homes and tell us about their lives. Why so many of us? It was a group project!

  None of that was any good. The Excommunicado security officer was far more intelligent than his clanmate Banger, the elephant man. Taking a careful look at each of us — and, I’m sure, noticing Malik biting his lip, Hung putting on a deliberately neutral face, Ed frowning and me hiding my hands in my pockets — Morales spoke. Without asking questions, just making statements.

  “One of you is a top Threat. I know that for sure, because according to our intel, certain inwinovas from Cali Bottom are related to the Threat. In the future, kids, bear in mind that humans are the most unreliable of creatures. There’s always at least one tongue without a spine that will give up all your plots and secrets. Just because that’s human nature. Look at me, for example! I know something important! I’m involved in this! And that means I’m a big deal too! Heh-heh-heh…”

  Chuckling, Morales’s piercing gaze settled on me and didn’t move off again.

  “We knew you’d turn up here sooner or later. We weren’t expecting you specifically, of course, but any citizens that dared to fly in here. There’s a reason you’re cooking something up with the inwinovas after all, right? There were others too, of course, but their characters were clear. Whereas yours are cloudy…”

  “Mister…”

  Morales, very pleased with himself, gestured for me to be quiet. He took out a cigar, bit off the end, spat it out and lit it. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he spoke again softly.

  “Alright, here’s the deal, kids. Keep your fake excuses to yourselves and listen to me. We don’t need any answers from you right now anyway. Got it?”

  Waiting for us all to nod, he continued.

  “My partner Willy and I have felt for a while that the Colonel is getting a little greedy. The main staff is living it up, while guys like me and my partner just get crumbs. Like now… We aren’t going to hold you. In literally a minute you’ll be flying off to get back to whatever you’re plotting. And Willy and I will make a report to the chief, and then the boys upstairs will decide how to pick you up and how to strong-arm you. Of course, I value my position and I’m simply obliged to report your arrival here, but… But I could sell you some time. Maybe I could even keep the report to myself for a week. If I don’t hear anything from you, it’ll go upstairs. If you want to extend the deadline, then let’s say — a million phoenixes a month. Gold works for us too.”

  “Just out of interest, how do you imagine this working?” Tissa said, having wanted to say something for a while and unable to hold back. “You realize that financial transfers so large are tracked, right? Snowstorm will have questions!”

  “That’s what I like to hear!” Morales said in glee. “No stunned silences, no shocked giggles, no attempts to haggle, heh-heh-heh! That means I’m right, and the amount doesn’t bother you. All you need to know is the how, right? Not a problem! Ladies and gentlemen… the Goblin Auction! You know that the League respects the anonymity of its clients, right? Sure, the fees there are way higher, but do you think the corporation will miss the chance to earn a little extra from people who don’t want their business made public? Especially since all the factions have access to the auction house. What, is this news to you?”

  I glanced at Ed, moved my gaze to Tissa, but they just shook their heads. In the meantime, Morales got more serious and dropped the jokes.

  An unusual bar of copper ore will show up there today. One. And it will be unusual because the lot price will be precisely one million. The lot will last a week. If certain mystery customers don’t buy the lot… well, then I’ll have to let matters develop.”

  He carefully put out his cigar against the lug sole of his army boots, put the remainder back into the pack and walked back to his Shark, whistling as he went.

  * * *

  I returned home lost in dark thoughts. On the way back, the guys chewed out Tissa for her big mouth, argued about whether to pay the blackmailers, then started estimating the value of the trophies from Shad’Erung. I didn’t bother taking part in their debates. I already knew we’d have to pay. At least until we fell off the radar. Until recently I’d believed that I didn’t have to fear openly criminal acts from the preventers, but when it wasn’t money at stake, but power in Dis, which had long since replaced real life for so many…

  They’d kidnap me, fill me with drugs, put me in a hacked capsule and force me to personally go to their castle and ask to be eliminated. How could I prove it later, and to whom? I doubt they’d even find me. Missing: senior student Alex Sheppard, 16 years old. Distinguishing characteristics include… — notifications like this went around the comms daily, and that was just in our district. The sad conclusion was that we had to find shelter. And certainly not in Cali Bottom, where we’d already been made. In any case, we couldn’t risk our workers’ lives either.

  We found them in a poor state. At least they were all on their feet, nobody was lying down and dying of fever, and the Home Doctor detected only slightly raised temperatures.

  “It was worse yesterday,” Manny said. “And only the ones that turned undead got sick! The others were just fine! To tell the truth, we’re about ready to blame Dis, but you guys are fine, right?”

  We were fine, but I recalled how bad I felt after I first transformed and pointed out that Manny’s words had sense. Ed, Malik and Hung also remembered that they felt a little ill a day after they turned undead. It was a strange effect.

  “Alright, we’ll come around,” the foreman waved his hand, exchanging glances with Gyula.

  He coughed and reported on the construction progress. They’d finished building the temple in the desert and were ready to get started on upgrading the fort. I suggested that they kept out of Dis until they completely re
covered and promised they wouldn’t lose any pay.

  Chaos reigned at home. AT was in his dog form and seemed to be glitching out, yapping constantly, but that was the least of the problems. Mom was packing suitcases, at the same time shouting all kinds of accusations at dad. He was sitting on the couch with his face in his hands. I thought it was probably something to do with mom’s affairs or dad’s binges, but it turned out to be far more serious.

  “We’re both going to lose our licenses, and it’s your fault! How am I supposed to live, you bastard?!” mom shouted.

  “Don’t put this on me, Helene,” dad answered tiredly. “You made a mistake in your calculations…”

  “On your design!” mom spat. “One million and two hundred thousand in fines! A million and two hundred thousand! We don’t even have a hundred thousand in our account! You can deal with the courts yourself…”

  Once she saw me, mom shut up, turned red, rushed over to me and hugged me.

  “Forgive us, son!” Forgive us!” mom cried, pouring tears all over my neck.