Labyrinth of reflections lor-1

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  The game have changed a little last year, now one has to start it as a lieutenant being in command of a small regiment in tactic battles, submitting to somebody else’s orders and to rise slowly up the hierarchy until he reaches the rank of the Chief Commander of his country. Now there’s a possibility of coups, betrayal, guerilla war ‘against everybody’… I don’t know, the game have become more interesting possibly, but I liked the previous rules more.

  ‘Mortal Combat’ is even simpler. This is a scuffle in virtual space. One might put on one of hundreds of ready-to-use guises or build his own and to take part in a multiple day tournament for the right to fight the main villain that plots to conquer the Earth. This is the useful game, nowhere else can one steam out his sick emotions like on the gloomy arenas of ‘Mortal Combat’, hitting his enemy with the heel on his forehead of thrusting magic spells onto him. Good game, I visit it once or twice a month but some people never quit the duels. They say that if one doesn’t abuse magic which unfortunately is not available in reality, it is possible to learn to fight pretty well. I doubt it though: the hit that one feels with the help of virtual suit is one thing but the real steel reinforcement that you’ll be hit with in the street is absolutely different.

  And of course there’s ‘Doom’, that very game getting into which had ushered the beginning of the virtual era.

  It’s main area is called simply “Labyrinth of Death”. This really is a labyrinth: 50 levels, some of them located in buildings and underground vaults, others-on the streets of the Twilight City, an imaginary megapolis captured by an alien civilization. It’s the Deep within a Deep with its own laws and rules.

  The game starts at the first level – the half ruined railway station where the player arrives by the section car, with a single gun as a weapon. The station building is crowded with monsters – former Twilight City inhabitants, and other players. It’s difficult to say who is more dangerous: monsters are armed better but the players are smarter than machines obviously. One can find weapons, defense gear, first-aid sets and food in the station building. When one leaves the first level, he gets to the second one: the highway full of abandoned cars… and of course, of other players and monsters. In order to win one must reach the 50th level, the ancient cathedral in the downtown and to destroy the alien ruler. It’s very hard. I did it before but since then “Labyrinth” have changed at least ten times: new buildings, weapons and monsters were added. And of course, new players have arrived: game addicts who can’t imagine their lives without shooting on the streets of Twilight City.

  It’s an interesting game, mainly because it requires constant communication with other people, not just ‘fighting to death’ like in

  ‘Mortal Combat’, not diplomatic notes and threats exchange like in ‘C&C’ but direct communication: making unions, convincing others, some small worldly wisdoms…

  But just what so unusual could happen in the “Labyrinth“‘s space?

  1010

  “Labyrinth“‘s administrative building is a two story house in Deeptown’s suburbs, faced with rose colored coquina. It looks peacefully and neat, more like a residential building than an office. Maybe American middle class families use to live in houses like this. Labyrinth entrance is a bit further and obviously it looks much more impressive. I stand in the garden and examine the guard by the entrance. He’s dressed into masking overalls, the standard players’ uniform, with carbine in his hands. His muzzle has absolutely ‘impenetrable’ expression, he stands motionless like a statue. Is he a human or not? It’s foolish to ask, at least because one can’t distinguish well made program from a human at once. I pass the guard and find myself in a small hall. The bright sunlight beams through windows, small tables and soft armchairs stand along the walls. More solid table is in the center of the hall, a smiling girl sits by it: the secretary and most likely live one.

  – Good afternoon, – I say.

  The secretary’s face changes a little.

  – Good afternoon, – she replies. The voice is soft and nice, looks like I was switched to Russian employee.

  – I need to meet with the management, – I begin without ceremonies.

  – Please be more specific if possible.

  The girl is the courtesy itself but it’s not easier to break through her barrier than through the monster by Al-Kabar’s bridge.

  – I have a confidential information for “Labyrinth“‘s management.

  – But still I’d like you to state the goal of your visit briefly.

  Ah well…

  – I’d like to relay to Mr Guillermo Aguirre that I’m informed about the small problem that have arisen recently and about the fact that divers cooperating with you had failed to solve it. I’m going to offer my services in solving this problem.

  The secretary nods.

  – One moment please.

  She stands up without a hurry and enters one of the inner doors. I wait patiently. Everything is very cute and patriarchal: no computers, no monsters. It’s not the office of the most expensive and dreadful ride in the history but a small toilet paper sales firm.

  The girl is away for long, I get tired of standing and sit into one of armchairs, browse through newspapers scattered on the nearby table. It’s quiet and peaceful, no other visitors except me, though they in fact are present most likely. We just can’t see each other and they communicate with other company’s employees.

  – Mister…

  – Gunslinger, – I say standing up. – Call me Gunslinger.

  The girl nods.

  – Mr Guillermo Aguirre will receive you.

  Slight curiosity in her voice, it looks like she had no idea that any problems might arise in “Labyrinth”.

  I enter the door and freeze.

  This is beautiful.

  The hall is in the form of unequal sided triangle, one wall is completely transparent and one can see the city from the big height, lighted by red sunset light. Not Deeptown but Twilight City most likely. The table of “Labyrinth“‘s security manager, Mr Guillermo is horseshoe-shaped, three monitors are installed on it, a keyboard and nothing else. Mr Guillermo himself already rises to meet me, he’s aged, lean, very suntanned, dressed in blinders and T-shirt.

  – Hello, – he says stretching his hand to me first. – So you are the Gunslinger, yes? Call me just Willy.

  Okay, let it be Willy.

  I shake his hand.

  – You said so interesting things, yes? About problems, divers, help…

  – Willy laughs and waves his hands, – Boom! Boom! That help?

  Very interesting interpreter program, the strong accent, parasite words like Guillermo speaks Russian himself. One starts feel different towards the guy immediately.

  – Let’s be honest, okay? – I offer. Willy-Guillermo knits his brow and nods. – I’m diver.

  – Yes?– inquires Willy politely – And what is that?

  I smile in return and say:

  – I think that your Ukranian and Canadian employees would explain that to you quicker. I mean the divers working on permanent contract with you.

  Willy looks at me silently for a long time, then nods:

  – I thought that Anatol is Russian. He’s Ukranian?

  Yeah, Man Without Face is informed much better than “Labyrinth“‘s security manager.

  – These are just details.

  – Take a seat Gunslinger… – Willy moves an armchair to me then pads to the window looking at the city poured by blood colored blaze, – So, you’re diver?

  I nod.

  – This is very interesting. Unusual! – Willy raises his forefinger, – Everybody look for divers, everybody have requests, business, questions… you came to us by yourself.

  I stay silent.

  Willy turns around and looks at me.

  – You have a nice suit Gunslinger, – he says, – It’d be good to add… a small cap to it. A small gray cap.

  I see. A simple test.

  – Vika…


  Willie smiles: it’s the same little trick as was done by Man Without Face, I’m cut off from my operating system, I could expect that type of surprise.

  Abyss-abyss, I’m not yours…

  It turned out that my head is aching badly. Must be the beer…

  I took off the helmet, grabbed the mouse, launched ‘Bioconstructor’, hastily opened the ‘Clothing’ window, then ‘Headgear’, found something looking like beret or cap. Then I filled it with steel gray color and hooked it on my figure, person number seven, Gunslinger…

  deep Enter Beret is on my head. I’m not sure whether it’s what Mr Aguirre wanted or not but he looks satisfied.

  – We value the divers’ work. – says Willy. – But our permanent employees quite manage it. We need time, small. We’ll offer you interesting work, yes?

  I shake my head, beret slides to the side.

  – Mr Guillermo, – I say respectfully but resolutely, – I’m talking about one certain problem which I want to help “Labyrinth” to solve.

  I see his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  – Recently a strange accident have happened in “Labyrinth”…

  I fall silent and wait for his reaction. Willy is obviously deep in thought.

  – Accident? – he nods towards the window, – We have thousands of accidents here every day. War! Shooting! Cheerfulness!

  Was Man Without Face really mistaken? I start feeling myself like an idiot.

  – Your divers… – I start. – Did they manage their duties yesterday for instance?

  This is the only thing I know: “Labyrinth“‘s divers hadn’t justified hopes.

  – Ah! – Willy nods, – Ah! Unfortunate!

  I nod just in case.

  – Is it a problem? – Aguirre becomes serious.

  – As far as I know, yes.

  Pause. Guillermo weighs something in his mind.

  – Mr Gunslinger, what do you know?

  It’s no use to lie, the man before me is not the one it’s worthy to bluff with.

  – Very little. I was informed that there’s a problem in “Labyrinth”, that your divers failed to solve it. I was asked to render an assistance to you.

  A pause again. I’m anonymous and it’s risky to let me into unpleasant sides of the Company’s life but Guillermo has a ‘good nose’ for troubles and methods of overcoming them.

  – You’ll sign a single-time contract? – his tone becomes quick and business-like.

  – Yes.

  – Complete nondisclosure of the situation, – he adds, – with all possible penalties.

  – Yes…

  – Please Gunslinger, – he points at his table. I pad closer being sure that it’ll be now when I’ll sign the cooperation documents but Willy points at the monitor in the middle. – This is 33rd level of “Labyrinth” Mr Gunslinger, ‘Disneyland’.

  I look at the level and don’t like it at all, at least because when I was there last time it looked completely different.

  – Very-very bad level, – says Willy. – Hard. This is the beginning: ‘Russian Hills’ { roller coaster }. This is… – he puts his hand on the keyboard and the picture slides a little aside, – a Grabber Demon. Bad!

  Gee, as if good demons ever came out of “Labyrinth” creators’ minds…

  – This is him… – one more touching the keys, – Unfortunate.

  Guillermo keeps silent, not for theatrical pause – it’s nothing unusual on the screen. He’s just thinking.

  – So the problem is this Gunslinger? Yes?

  1011

  No ordinary Deeptown inhabitant can exit the deep by himself: he’ll just never see the computer, won’t be able to enter the exit command or to contact the operating system with voice. It’s only in virtual houses with drawn analogs of real computers installed where subconsciousness gives a kind break. One can exit the deep only where it was entered: in his imaginary home which might be a palace or a hut but with a ‘real’ computer.

  That’s why timers exist. They are plugged into all programs, from Microsoft’s Windows-Home to Russian ‘Virt-Navigator’ and ‘Deep-Commander’. The longest time for being in the deep is 48 hours, the time during which the human won’t die of starvation and water loss. Reasonable users always set their timers for less though: a couple of hours, a day… Maniac who set his timer for 36 hours was already an exception. The waking of somebody who have spent two days in the deep is…. a foul smelling sight.

  Of course it is possible to break and disable the timer. Or to break it and add a couple of zeros to the number ‘48’ but such kamikaze are rarely found and their end is mournful.

  Like Unfortunate’s.

  It’s impossible to pass “Labyrinth of Death” in a single attempt, one can’t just have strength for that. The drowsiness retreats in virtuality but there are the limits of stamina anyway. That’s why players get access to the game menu at the end of each level where there’s an option to save their coordinates and to exit to the outer deep, to exit in order to return later.

  But sometimes there are optimists that decide to pass “Labyrinth” in one attempt to repeat that very first legendary submersion into virtuality. They break the security timer, sometimes by themselves, sometimes using some hacker’s program, they cut off their guaranteed retreat and dive to the very bottom.

  It’s the divers who drag them back. All big game centers have communication with somebody of us. The biggest ones even keep anonymous employees on permanent contract. It’s cheaper to pay us than relatives of the player who died of exhaustion.

  I was looking at Unfortunate. He was dressed in regular masking overalls, protection mask-helmet and had only a gun as a weapon: he either entered the 33rd level like this or was killed here already. After demise in “Labyrinth” the player is being restored at the beginning of the level automatically, with minimum of gear.

  – This is ridiculous, – I said.

  – What? – Guillermo is interested.

  – For how long is he there?

  – For 39 hours. We trace players since their getting into the system.

  So Man Without Face got interested in Unfortunate almost as soon as he got into “Labyrinth”? He watched him attentively and began his search for divers immediately.

  – His timer could be set for 48 hours.

  – Yeah. Ah, how unappetizing! – sighs Guillermo, – Pee-pee, poo-poo into the virtual suit… EWW.

  Why did Man Without Face set the alarm?

  Nothing terrible have happened yet anyway, it’s just yet another self confident game addict.

  – Does he sit like this for a long time?

  – For almost 24 hours, – nodded Guillermo, – Yes, it’s strange. He tried to pass the level for five times… then submitted himself… sat by the entrance.

  – And what did you do?

  – We’ve sent Anatol, – Guillermo pulls his hands apart, – He can do that… to lead to the end of the level…

  – And?…

  I have to drag the information from him with wild horses, not because Guillermo hides something from me, he just can’t understand what exactly interests me, he got used to communicate with well prepared divers that understand everything on the fly.

  – Please explain the situation in an orderly fashion, Willy.

  Guillermo nods.

  – The player entered the level 39 hours ago. He was killed 5 times, very quickly.

  – By the Demon?

  – Oh no… he poof-poofed the Demon! By other players. Then he sat down and is still sitting. We sent Anatol, he drove the Unfortunate and they were both killed. Anatol started for the second time but they failed again: the customer was killed. Anatol was very angry, he shot dead everybody there, – Guillermo laughs leniently, – Today divers were supposed to try together. I’ll request the report, yes?

  – Yes… – I say not turning my eyes from the screen. A young guy is there, dressed in overalls and holding a gun. What scared Man Without Face? Why does he think that eve
nts don’t have analogies? Why does he offer the Medal of Complete License for a simple task? – Willy, have anything else strange happened?

  I get the weak hope that the different task was meant.

  – No.

  – Nothing?

  – Nothing-nothing! – Guillermo parts his hands – We take care of our customers. Everything is under control in “Labyrinth”.

  I’m looking at the screen, waiting.

  – A-ha… – sais Aguirre curiously, – yes-yes… There were two more attempts to lead him out this morning… and three times more in the afternoon. All failed.

  – And surely you didn’t know about that? – I can’t resist to be mordant.

  – We don’t fetter our employees’ initiative, – answers Guillermo with dignity, – The situation isn’t critical yet.

  Of course he’s right but I get a slight, vague anxiety. Who is he, the player gotten into trouble, US President, the Pope, Dmitry Dibenko?

  – Who is he? – I ask aloud. Guillermo shrugs.

  – This is unknown.

  – You don’t control your users?

  – We’re an entertainment center, not the KGB, – he answers with taste,

  – Information can be stolen. How do you think, will the solid top corporate manager or Arabian sheikh be happy if some tabloid publishes an article about their adventures in the drawn world?

  – And what’s so bad?

  – For you – nothing. The ordinary person will laugh. But solid people like little-little when they are laughed at.