Labyrinth of reflections lor-1

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  I shook my head, didn’t know that. It’s a shame to confess but I never visited those ‘establishments’ before.

  – So well… I decided to wait for half an hour, – went Maniac on with his story, – But you wouldn’t just hang there alone like stupid, right? So I called for one girl… we were just sitting, drinking beer… ‘Guinness’! – confessed Maniac in a sudden frank manner, – Well, and… somehow it happened… and in the very interesting moment – THWAP! a hit on my mug! The girl kisses me but I feel freaking pain… and then… unprogrammed exit from the deep… Gal’ka ripped the helmet out of the port..

  He poured himself more beer. I nodded sympathetically: unprogrammed exit is a very unpleasant thing.

  For not-diver, that is.

  – It’ll be fine, – I said, – Not for the first time, not for the last one either…

  – She said, it WAS the last time, – informed Maniac gloomily. – I haven’t visited these brothels for a year! My suit is even without sex stimulator!

  – Well, mine’s with it, – I said, – I just never visit these.

  – Too bad for you. Have your fun while young.

  In fact, Maniac is two years younger than me but he’s a cool hacker while I’m just an ordinary ‘newbie’, and also he’s married, and for the second time.

  – Okay, relax. You’ll make peace tomorrow.

  – We will, – agreed Maniac, – So at least today I’ll have to have the most fun possible…

  We exchanged understanding smiles and sipped more beer.

  – Buy the woman’s suit for Gal’ka, – I suggested, – Drag her into the Abyss… and no problem! { same in Russian original }

  – Yeah, thanks a lot…– growled Maniac with evident caution in his voice, – Have you ever seen the women who have tried the virtual sex? Their psyche is… different. No normal male will ever satisfy them!

  I nodded, even if I couldn’t really imagine women went crazy about virtual sex. I could imagine the men though, many got crazy over that, that’s why I didn’t hurry to try it. Experiments with adventure thirsty girls is one thing, but the professionals from virtual brothels is a very different case.

  – For the health, – I offered.

  We drank and filled the glasses for the third time. The canister was halved and we felt much better.

  – For the hub 5-0-83,207… – said Maniac, – For old good ‘Fido’…

  We drank in silence and without touching glasses, like we would for the dead.

  – Everything changes, Shurka, – I said quietly. – It was a ‘network of friends’, the chat about just anything, envy at the Internet, profanity towards Microsoft. But now there’s neither Internet nor Fidonet, only virtuality, and Windoze is the best program for it.

  – They’re hack-workers, – proclaimed Maniac stubbornly, – You what, still use Windows-Home?

  – Yep.

  – Maybe you’re right, – sighed Maniac drearily, – A pleasant voice, advices about amount of ‘brains’ and hardware quality… Pah!. No need to think at all, just drag the arrow along the screen and gaze at the piccies.

  – And what about you? Still fooling with ‘poluos’ ‘? { OS/2: ‘half-os’ }

  – Why ‘fooling’?!, – said Maniac with indignation, – It’s the best OS if not to count UNIX! I’ve installed the new version 2 days ago, it rocks!

  – I hear this every time I visit you, – I said, – “Have installed… new version… fucked up my brains for three days until managed to tune it up…” While I have Windows-Home for two years already.

  – Everybody gets what suits them best… – admitted Maniac, and asked suddenly, – Hey Lenia, how did you manage to burglarize Al-Kabar using Windoze by the way?

  I looked aside.

  – There were rumors on the Net that two divers have swindled Al-Kabar,

  – said Maniac insinuatingly.

  I made the last attempt to deviate:

  – Why two? One diver and one…. assistant.

  Maniac laughed softly:

  – Don’t consider me a lamer Lenia, otherwise you’ll receive such a nice ‘hello’ in the mail that you’ll have to reinstall whole freakin’ HD from scratch… Divers never pick an ordinary guys to assist them.

  I kept silence looking at Maniac.

  – I see, – he said. – Well, for the luck. For the rich fools and smart hackers.

  We touched the glasses.

  – What was there Len’ka?

  – Runny nose reliever.

  – Really? Cool…

  We chewed a couple franks each and I was drearily thinking that my anonymity was broken after all. Yesterday there were three attempts to catch me.

  Today I was just ‘calculated’.

  – Lenia, I don’t know a single diver personally, – said Maniac, – And I ain’t gonna hunt for them. I don’t have any complexes… especially towards my friends.

  – Thanks, – I said.

  – But you know… Just one question.

  Sure, any hacker always has just one question. They think that it’s possible to ask something after which all divers’ mysteries become clear.

  – Well?

  -What does the diver do when he decides to exit virtuality, just thinks like ‘I want to return to reality’ or what?

  – I heard that one diver… – I looked aside, – Mutters the stupid rhyme.

  – Which one?

  – Abyss-abyss, I’m not yours.

  – And that’s it?

  – Sometimes he adds: “Abyss, let me go.”

  – And that’s it? – asked Maniac dolefully.

  – Yes.

  – My, how simple…

  Maniac searched in his pockets, took out the pack of ‘Lucky Strike’, lit the cigarette, then said with a slight resentment:

  – It was so much simpler before. There are hackers, honest ‘newbies’ and lamers. The first ones can do everything, the second ones are learning. The third ones are stupid, it’s not a sin to scoff at them. Just look at yourself: as you were a ‘newbie’ always, you’re still the one.

  I agreed.

  – But then the deep emerged… it seemed that all our dreams come true.

  – Maniac laughed bitterly – But in reality-hell no! I, the cool hacker, – he declared with a challenge, – am just one of the millions in the Abyss… well, just a little smarter possibly, I have some experience after all. But sometimes… such shit happens anyway…

  He kept silence for some time, twiddling the frank in his hands, then informed:

  – I ate a mouse a couple of days ago.

  – What?!

  – A computer mouse.. Well, not the mouse itself, it’s too hard… just bit off the wire.

  – Why? – I asked numbly.

  – It was an accident… I was in the deep.. We were sitting in “Rainbow” with some guys, drinking beer with smoked fish… Well, I ran out of fish and took some from Max’s plate..

  – But Max doesn’t drink beer!

  – He drank ‘Fiesta’. { orange soda }

  – ‘Fiesta’?! With smoked fish?

  – Well, just for a company.. – Maniac sighed, – And well, possibly it was too far to get to his plate, so… looks like I jerked a bit in reality. When I exited – gee, the mouse’s wire is bitten off! And, like… some wire is missing…

  – Does your stomach ache?

  – No, nothing so far…

  We filled our glasses.

  – Or this, – Maniac went on, – Do you know “Labyrinth of Death”?

  – Yes, – I sobered up in an instant.

  – I decided to have some fun not long ago, and entered the 17th level directly. They added so many stuff there recently! It’s a nightmare of a game… well, in brief, I was stuck.

  – What do you mean?

  – I couldn’t pass to the next level, but without passing it the exit menu doesn’t pop up.

  – And?…

  – And I was sitting there for thirty-six hours, –
said Maniac with rage, – The whole company of us idiots gathered there. We were shot dead at least ten times each, then we just blocked ourselves out in some basement, sang the songs, firing back at the monsters… until our timers went up.

  – You have thirty-six hours limit of continuous being in the deep?

  – Twenty-four now.

  – What about Gal’ka?

  – Ah, she was… at mother-in-law’s place… Len’ka, what time limit do you have?

  – I removed the limit, – I confessed.

  – I see… diver… – Shurka laughed forcefully. – Shit, I never completely believed in you, even if suspected.

  – Whom, me?

  – Sure. Why the hell would the ‘newbie’ need battle viruses and antidotes?

  I feel a little sad. Something have changed in our relations, and too sharply. Maybe it’ll pass in some time…

  – Shurka, I can’t do anything – except to exit virtuality, any program for me is just a heap of senseless symbols and a launching file.

  Maniac nodded.

  – I understand. But just tell me, would you like to change places with me? What is more interesting: to create the deep or to rule it?

  I’m silent.

  – Pour me some beer, – sighed Maniac.

  1000

  I was at Maniac’s place until late night, ‘Guinness’ was followed by ‘Baltic #6’, and for the dessert Shurka dug out the Christmas ‘Kronenburg’. Neither Irish nor Petersburg nor French beer failed.

  In the depth of my soul I was glad that I had opened to somebody. My hacker friends are divided into two groups: the first one keeps secrets until after the first bottle of beer, the other one kinda forgets all secrets by that point. Shurka belongs to the second one.

  At least now he’ll know what for do I need all this various virus soft which I drag out of him by all cunning means.

  – How much simpler would it be if the deep wouldn’t be so strong of an addiction, – I was thinking in the cab on my way home. – How much more right and simple… There wouldn’t be a division into the lucky and the unfortunate ones which can’t be overcome. There wouldn’t be that ridiculous situation: excellent programmers not being able to cross the border between reality and illusion, and clumsy guys like myself who don’t even notice this barrier.

  There wouldn’t ever be envy to each other and eternal hunt.

  But is it my fault? I don’t know why it happens myself, what flaw of consciousness makes one a diver, and it is of course a flaw since we are such a minority. It’d be stupid not to use this ability but too dreadful to offer it for everyone’s study.

  That’s how it goes: somebody can do long jumps of eight meters, somebody writes poems, somebody is not dependent on virtuality. But why, why it’s so few of us, so few that one should count not even in percent but by person?

  – Here? – asked the driver.

  – Yes, thanks.

  I paid him, got out of the car and went towards my house feeling inflated like a balloon. Now I have to either fall asleep submitting myself to the morning hangover or to submerge into the deep: it cures hangover well.

  On the second floor of the staircase where the light is on always for some reason, five teens were sitting, playing cards right on the floor, talking about something in dimmed voices… No, not talking, it’d be better to say growling to each other. I knew two of them, other three were unfamiliar. A little pack of smaller carnivores. They’d eagerly rip the loner apart in a dark corner but here I’m safe: carnivores don’t hunt near their den.

  – Hi, – said the guy who lives in the apartment above mine, in the same type of studio, together with his parents and older sister who often comes back only by the morning. Walls and ceilings in this house are thin enough for me to be well posted on all their troubles and quarrels.

  – Hi, – I said.

  – Lenia, do you have cigarettes?

  I’m at least 15 years older than him, but these guys keep me as almost one of their age, maybe because I’m not married and empty beer cans prevail in my garbage.

  – Hold on.

  I’m not smoking myself, but there’s always a pack or two of cigarettes at home for

  visiting hackers. Smoking is their professional trait. The guy waited by the door patiently while I put the canister on the floor and was searching in the closet.

  – Here.

  He nodded gratefully opening the pack, I waved my hand-keep it-and closed the door. The carnivores should be fed. A little. So they wouldn’t become too impudent and would retain an idea of me being a ‘nice guy’ even in their alcohol intoxicated minds.

  I undressed quickly, threw the clothes on the bed and came to the bathroom, stood under cold shower for a while.

  No sleeping tonight, the deep is waiting.

  For all day long I tried not to think about Man Without Face and the Medal of Complete Licence lying in the warehouse but now, in the darkness when virtuality was coming close I couldn’t help not to think about that.

  The Man and the Medal.

  The whip and the cookie.

  What so strange could happen in “Labyrinth” that even two divers couldn’t manage, the professionals who work if anonymously but as permanent contractors nevertheless? Those who know “Labyrinth” as palms of their hands…

  Something having no analogies?

  Very odd.

  I dried myself, threw the towel into the bowl with laundry, returned to the room, turned the computer on and started to pull on the virtual suit.

  – Good evening Lenia, – said Vika.

  – Hi old girl.

  Female face is smiling on the screen. No, possibly I’m wrong, I need to set the different reaction to ‘old girl’ – slight resentment, pouting, a look cast slightly aside.

  – Any mail?

  – Seven letters.

  – Read.

  There was nothing interesting in the mail: invitations to visit two new clubs, price lists of some small trading company, the letter from Maniac sent in the morning…

  – Delete everything, – I said sitting by the computer. I plugged the suit in and put on the helmet. – Vika, connect to Deeptown… through the spare channel. Person number seven.

  I didn’t use this connection for at least three months, as well as the ‘person number seven’: steel colored suit, black shirt, a necktie, high leather boots, slim agile body, swarthy narrow face, hair long to the shoulders, low and powerful voice.

  – Spare channel, person number seven, – confirmed Vika.

  The rainbow before my eyes, greedy flaming of the fiery wave, the deep.

  I’m sitting in the tiny room: the bed, the table with the computer on it, not mine but absolutely abstract one, the door. “Journey Start” Hotel. Those Deeptown inhabitants who just occasionally visit the Deep rent rooms here for cheap.

  – Is everything okay, Lenia?

  – Yes.

  I open the door and leave. There’s the long corridor with doors outside, by one of those stands Sylvester Stallone looking at his hands with admiration.

  – Hi Sly, – I say passing by. Almost for sure the guy is Russian, and what’s definitely-he’s a newbie.

  – Do I really look like him? – asks the guy with hope.

  – Yeah… – I stop. The beer makes my mood benevolent, – Are you new in the deep?

  – In what? Ah yes.. new.

  – It’s a bad form to put on appearances of famous people, and also the sign of newbie. Try to construct your own personality… use ‘Bioconstructor’ for instance and work a little.

  – ‘Bioconstructor’? – asks the guy confused.

  – Yes. A very simple program with Russian interface, it is scattered around on all servers in the novice directories.

  – Thanks… – ‘Stallone’ drags himself along behind me. I notice that he started to stoop as if being ashamed of his appearance: a good sign.

  We enter elevator together and descend to the first floor. The lobby is pret
ty spacious, four porters and two guards are always watching there.

  – Come to any of them, – I advise, – And ask for consultation: where to go for the start, how to act…

  – It’s embarrassing…

  – It’s embarrassing to be a fool. These guys are here just for that: to help you. When in the streets ask for advice the people with an open hand sign on the sleeve, they are volunteer helpers, or policemen. Have you set your timer?

  – Yes, sure! For two hours!

  – Very good. Spend 15 minutes to talk to the porter and you’ll save much more. Happy sailing!

  – Happy sailing! – says admired novice behind me. It’s so nice to be an old-timer…

  I wink to the porter and nod towards ‘Stallone’ in case he’ll be too shy to ask for help himself and leave the hotel. I raise my hand and the cab stops immediately: this is not reality…

  – Deep-Transit is glad to welcome you, Gunslinger! – says the driver.

  – To “Labyrinth of Death”, administrative building, – I reply.

  1001

  There exist the games and The Games.

  The difference is in longevity.

  Computer industry releases up to 1000 games every year, both intended for the Deep and for ordinary users.

  The game usually ‘lives’ actively for around half a year. It is distributed legally and through the pirate channels, is being discussed, all its intended and random tricks are being caught. And then it dies… kept only by a couple of hundreds of fans.

  Sometimes exceptions happen – and then the game lives for years. Many new, much more perfect and beautiful games appear but the old one retains crowds of fans too.

  And there are three exceptions that are alive since the pre-virtual

  era: ‘Doom’, ‘C&C’ and ‘Mortal Combat’. They have changed dozens of times of course but these were more cosmetics than real changes.

  ‘C&C’ is a strategic game, it’s virtual space is the whole planet. On this humble target range those never-to-be Napoleons and Zhukovs eternally fight for the world’s dominance commanding nonexistent armies in imaginary headquarters. Tank tracks are rattling there and missiles fly up to the skies, new terrible weapons are being developed, world’s capitals are being burned to ashes by nuclear explosions. One doesn’t need to be quick or keen in this game, strategic thinking is most important. They say that the Military watches this game very attentively and sometimes successful players get offers to join the army. Some people seem scared by that, the others are attracted on the contrary. I have played these ‘adult tin soldiers’ a little. In my opinion the game is harmless and quiet. Dressed in a beautiful uniform, you walk with a cup of coffee back and forth in the headquarters crowded with trained aides and say : ‘Ummm.. what if we drop an H-bomb at Los Angeles?’