The Lag

by Alex Bobl

  Aberrations flashed in the air, going off one after another. Attila stared at the firewall which began to shake, its shell of lightning sparking and dying.

  The room filled with the strong odor of ozone. The wizards slid to the floor, convulsing. Only the fair-haired Assur kept walking toward Attila, his arms outstretched in front of him, like a zombie in a movie.

  A toxic-green smoke poured down the shaft of sapphire light. Was it Wayfarer's virus? Had Yanna managed to run it?

  Purple lightning flashed through the air. Assur staggered, flailing his arms. His body disintegrated into an avalanche of colored pixels that scattered all over the floor.

  Beast sat behind the coffin, his legs still pinned to the floor. He was holding the mythogun, staring at Attila and the blinking cylinder of the firewall.

  "Whassup, man?" he wheezed. "What happened?"

  Attila could barely shake his head.

  "Take that!" Beast bellowed, firing a bolt of lightning at one of the coffins. He hurled the gun aside and began casting fireballs, clapping his hands and waving them in a special way.

  He fired two into each coffin and gasped with exhaustion. "How about helping me, maybe? My leg is falling off! It hurts like hell!"

  The firewall cylinder exploded, sending a wheel of sparks circling around the room, fading and disappearing. The acid-green smoke filled almost the entire beam of light, pouring down and seeping into the floor, spreading and filling the coffins.

  The walls around them shook. Sunlight burst in. The tower listed; the floor bucked underfoot. Two deep vertical cracks zigzagged through the thick granite walls. A large chunk of the wall collapsed in a deafening avalanche of black rocks.

  Slowly Attila stood up, peering through the gap. The room was rather high: he could see other Citadel buildings and the wall encircling them. Behind it, swords clashed and battle spells boomed, illuminating the sky with fiery explosions. The crimson of the sky was gone, replaced by a large dome of celestial blue. A few clouds floated slowly across it like wads of cotton wool.

  The wizards' bodies were gone. They weren't in the coffins anymore. Stepping awkwardly on his still unfeeling legs, Attila staggered toward Beast and grabbed at the coffin that pinned him down.

  "Pull it! Harder!" Beast winced with pain, releasing his legs. Grimacing, he climbed to his feet. "Listen, I... What happened to me?"

  "Alpha seized control over your body."

  "No! He really did? I don't remember anything. All I know is that I came to already squashed by this coffin. My legs hurt like hell. That's all. But we've done him, eh? We've finished off Alpha, right?"

  Attila nodded. "I think so."

  "Does it mean we can quit the game now?"

  "I hope so. And that's exactly what I'm going to try," Attila stepped back, holding onto the coffin, then slumped down on top of it. "I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

  "No, but listen... how about those outside the gate? They're still fighting, aren't they?"

  "They have mythoguns and your exosuit. Besides, Alpha's gone. And I... I don't think I can fight anyone now. You can't, either. Just tell me... how can I find you back in real life?"

  "I'm Misha, Misha Bolshakov," Beast said. "Didn't I tell you? My Skype ID is mike_beast."

  "I'm outta here, then," Attila cast one last glance at the sunlit world surrounding the Citadel. He lowered his eyelids and opened the logout window.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For a few seconds he lay motionless, not quite grasping what he could see before him. Or rather, above him. Mentally he understood it, of course: a girl's face leaned over him, what was there not to understand? Still, he couldn't work out what she was doing here and why she looked so familiar.

  His head was empty as a drum. Not a thought in sight. The pretty blonde lay her hand on his forehead. A soft cool hand. It felt so good. And he'd definitely seen her somewhere. What's the name now... yeah, Yanna, wasn't it? Only she looked different somehow.

  "Are you all right?" a voice reached him as if through cotton wool.

  He sat up and looked around. The Citadel was gone. There were no clerics nor monsters around. The vast expanse of the Canyon was gone. Gone were its cliffs and its gloomy sky, gone were the fields rippling in the wind. The Conclave wizards were gone too. The tower topped with a giant eye had disappeared. He was back. He was home!

  "Hi, Yanna... oh wow!" Attila stared at her open-mouthed. This was the same girl that he'd seen in the game, only her clothes were different. But she looked identical.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" Yanna's smirking told him that she knew the answer perfectly well.

  "You," Attila faltered, trying to put his thoughts into words, "I thought..."

  "You thought I was an ugly cow?"

  "Sort of. I thought you were some nerd chick trying to take it out on people in a virtual way."

  She nodded. "I did. But not because of what you think. Doesn't matter. It's all in the past now. I'm very happy you're alive, Attila... Ivan. And I'm very pleased I survived to see it. How's Beast?"

  "He's alive too. Wait a sec. I need to grab a shower."

  He left her sitting on the couch, picked up a few clothes and headed for the bathroom. Impatiently he peeled off the suit and stood under the hot jets, working himself over with a generously soaped sponge. He cleaned his teeth twice and used half a box of ear sticks. After giving himself a good shave, he climbed in the shower again for another five minutes, then rubbed his skin with a towel until it glowed red. When he finally pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and walked out, Yanna was sitting by the computer checking newsfeeds.

  "They report that players have begun to wake up," she said. "They also say that RussoVirt offices are taped off by the virtual police and Federal Security. Actually, I meant to ask you. What's this?" she pointed at the wheelchair by the wall.

  Attila looked in its direction. All of a sudden, his face felt hot. Both of them looked down at his legs.

  Attila staggered. He took a step. And another. His knees buckled under him. The realization tolled in his head like a heavy bell. He could walk! He really could walk! Not in game but in real life!

  The room swam before his eyes. He reeled. Yanna rushed toward him. Attila set his leg aside and shifted the whole weight of his body onto it.

  Yanna grabbed his elbow but Attila eased himself away. "I can do it."

  He took a tentative step. Then another one. And yet another. Now that he'd remembered he couldn't walk there was a high chance his legs would refuse to obey him. But they didn't. He kept walking, unblinking and focused, holding his breath and staring in front of himself. He walked past the desk and around the chair. Yanna behind him held her breath too, watching him approach his goal by the wall.

  Attila kept on going, each step level and confident. If he failed, if his legs gave under him now, he knew he'd never be able to walk again. But if he made it... then he knew what he'd do.

  He made it. He took a swing with his leg and kicked the wheelchair hard — first with one foot and then the other. The wheelchair was heavy but his legs were strong and obedient — not just obedient even, they were part of him now, just like his arms or his head. It wasn't for nothing he'd spent all these months using special machines to stimulate his motionless muscles.

  Attila turned the chair round and continued kicking it, mauling the frame and bending the axle.

  A minute later the chair was only good for the scrap heap. Attila's legs under the sweatpants were covered with cuts and bruises but he didn't care. The main thing was, he'd destroyed this symbol of his past life. From now on, he could walk again.

  Gasping, Attila turned his triumphant face to Yanna. He stepped away from the defeated monster and sank onto a chair. Then he rose again and reached for the pinups of the woman who'd caused his accident. He tore the pictures into shreds and lobbed them onto what was left of the chair.

  Finally he sat down. But before he had a chance to catch his breat
h, Yanna rushed toward him, threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips.

  "Wow," Attila finally gasped a breath when they let go of each other.

  "You did a nice job on your chair."

  "You tell me. It was all purely psychological, you know. While we were in the game, I completely forgot I couldn't walk. We had more pressing things to take care of. So I-"

  "Don't. It's in the past now. How are your legs now? Ah, you've been using those new machines, I see. They told us at school they worked wonders for atrophied muscles."

  She paused. "Listen, but how about Beast? Have you got his contacts? I thought he said he lived in Switzerland?"

  "He does. He gave me his Skype address. It's mike_beast."

  She shook her head. "What is it with men? They seem to love being viewed as beasts. Don't they understand it's not what a woman values in a man? Okay, wait."

  She leaned over to the keyboard, opened his list of Skype contacts and entered the address. Attila gazed at her waist and the graceful curve of her back, imagining her and himself cuddled up on that couch... but first he'd have to clear it of all the Sensorica packaging and disks.

  Beast answered instantly. He must have waited for them to contact him. A little cartoon pencil began running to and fro in the chat window:

  Hi there call me

  Yanna clicked the Call icon. A face appeared in the window: plump, freckled and good-natured with ginger hair, a snub nose and laughing eyes. The face of a teenager.

  "Guys!" Beast bellowed. "You there? Hey, man, are you hugging her? How about me? I mean, I don't want you to hug me, I want to hug her myse- never mind. You okay? I've had a total falling-out with my dad, imagine. I called him and told him there was no way he could make me read physics. I said, it's either I choose what I want to do with my life or I disown him. He's coming back tonight so I'm bracing myself. My dad is a right piece of work. Even Mom does what he tells her to do. His job at the European Nuclear Research Organization must have gone to his head. He thinks if he's so smart he can boss us around... no, sir! Never mind. I'll sort it out myself. How about you?"

  "It's all right," Attila answered. "Hungry as hell. Did you see the news? Other players have started to wake up."

  "I saw it."

  Yanna reached for another chair and sat next to Attila.

  "Wait a sec," Beast hurried, "I still don't understand. Why did Alpha lock us all in the game? What did he want with us?"

  "My theory is, he was studying human psychology," Yanna explained.

  "Human what?"

  Attila nodded. "She's right. I realized it too at the end when we were already in the Citadel. Alpha must have been studying human behavior under pressure. He wanted to see how we'd behave in crisis. In order to better-"

  "In order to better control us," Yanna finished. "Using those new helmets and suits. To get control over leading politicians, celebrities and businessmen. Or so I think."

  "You're right," Attila agreed. "I'll be back in a moment. I'm thirsty as hell. And you've used all the water in the bottle on me."

  He found a half-gallon water bottle in the fridge and drank a good third of it, then grabbed a large chunk of sausage and choked on it, washing it down with more water until the bottle was empty. While he was alone, he pulled down his sweatpants and studied his legs. They looked perfectly fine. A bit skinny, but that was easily fixed. The cuts and bruises would soon go.

  He did a few situps, enjoying the sight of his legs bend and stretch. Then he threw the right leg onto the window sill and felt it all over.

  His friends' cheerful voices reached him from the room. Attila pulled the pants back on, took his auntie's half-full bottle of red wine out of the fridge and headed back.

  Yanna stopped mid-word and turned to him, "I want some too."

  Attila took a swig and offered her the bottle. Beast sighed as she drank, "I have no booze. Dad doesn't drink anything, even beer. He says alcohol kills brain cells."

  "He's absolutely right," Yanna said, then took two more swigs and placed the bottle onto the desk. "Listen," she turned to Attila, "Beast here has an idea. As we've just seen, the virtual world isn't free from nasty evil overlords. All kinds of things can happen there leading to real-life disasters."

  "That's right," Attila nodded. "Look at RussoVirt. They've just shown that virtuality makes up part of the world's economics — and its crime scene. Naturally, the number of such crises will only grow. And the criminals will become more and more sophisticated. There're not even any laws made for such fraudsters yet. Which is only natural, I suppose."

  "Exactly," Beast interrupted him. "What I was saying was, who are the biggest experts in games? Who are the best at cheating and stuff? You tell me!"

  Attila shrugged. "What do you mean? The biggest experts... it's people, I suppose. Like, players. Gamers."

  "Nearly there!" Beast shouted. "Young gamers! Young people! Now ask me why! Because," he knocked his knuckles on his forehead, "our brains are fresher. Or so my Dad says. We learn faster and we adapt quicker to all sorts of unusual situations. Which makes us more important than adults, at least in the virtual world. Here, they won't let us do anything because they want to be in control themselves! But in the virtual world, we're just as good as they are — probably better!"

  "Who are we?" Attila suppressed a smile. "We are both older than you, man."

  "Don't matter! I mean, all of us. All young people. So I suggest. Let's make a... A..."

  "A crime detection agency," Yanna offered.

  "Well, not quite. More like a... a special-service unit?"

  "No. Special services work for the government. And besides-"

  "Wait," Attila said. "How about the virtual police and its cyber terrorism units? They are the ones who deal with this sort of thing."

  "So what?" Beast demanded, hyped up as ever. "Police have always been around, but it never prevented private shops from doing their work. All those bounty hunters and such. But what can we call it?"

  Attila gave it some thought. "How about Special Solutions Agency?"

  "Why agency?" Beast sounded offended. "Agencies are more about fashion and modeling. It sends the wrong message."

  "Agencies can be anything, and not just modeling," Attila said. "Never mind. If you're so against it, let's call it a bureau."

  "That's all right," Beast agreed. "What kind of bureau?"

  "Special Solutions?" Yanna repeated. "Or how about Virtual Solutions?"

  Still Beast wasn't happy. "Why Virtual? The fact that they happen in the virtual world doesn't make them any less real!"

  "Then how about Virtual Solutions to Your Problems?"

  "Which would be what, VSYP? Nah. Besides, I don't like this "your problems" thing. Sounds a bit like a Viagra spam subject line."

  "There's no pleasing you, is there?" Yanna said. "Your turn. Let's listen to your suggestions."

  Beast moved his lips silently, mouthing his versions.

  "Crises," Attila said.

  "Crises what?" the other two asked in unison.

  "Not problems. Crises. Crisis Solutions Bureau. CSB. Or even better, the Crisis Bureau. The CB."

  The three stared at each other — not directly but via webcams, of course.

  "Awesome," Beast finally said. "I like it. And the full name? The Crisis Bureau what?"

  "Use our names," Yanna suggested. "The YAM Crisis Bureau."

  "Actually, I'm Ivan," Attila pointed out. "And we'd better use our nicknames, not real names. Like..."

  "Like BAY," Beast blurted. " BAY Crisis Bureau. Just don't say anything! It's perfect! I love it! It will knock the clients off their feet. By the time they come round, they're already signed up and we're ready to solve their crises!"

  "Dunno," Yanna said. "Sounds a bit weird to me."

  "It's not!" Beast announced, pleased with himself. "Wayfarer never gave us the bank account number. Very well, sir, you had us over but we'll earn that money ourselves, just wait and see. That's the way I
look at it: I'm going to leave my parents, in which case I'll need the money."

  "But what are we going to do?" Yanna asked.

  "Just gaming stuff," Attila answered. "Solve gaming problems for people. I actually like it. The idea was just begging to be born. I have a funny feeling they'll now mushroom all over the virtual worlds. We need to jump on the bandwagon while we can. Especially as we already have one solved crisis on our resume: Alpha."

  The speakers clicked. They heard the familiar synthetic voice, the one used by Wayfarer,

  "Not really."

  They fell silent, dumbfounded. A third Skype user — war_khan — had joined their conversation, even though neither Beast nor Attila had authorized him to use their chat.

  "But how did you-" Beast began in a sunken voice.

  "Alpha is alive," Wayfarer cut him short. "We've only destroyed a small part of him. Alpha has left Gryad but he's still alive. He controls Bagrov — and through him, all of RussoVirt. I don't think he'll strike back straight away after his first major defeat. Most likely, he'll be acting discreetly and systematically. And he won't forget you. Here, have a look."

  Yanna leaned closer to the monitor. Attila moved his chair closer. Two long sequences of letters and digits appeared in the chat window.

  "What's this?" Beast asked breathlessly even though you could tell by the sound of his voice that he'd already worked out what it was.

  "This is the anonymous account number in the Bloodmyst Isle First United Bank," Wayfarer explained. "In the World of Warcraft. There's two hundred thousand gold doubloons on the account. It's yours."

  Silence fell. In the Skype window, Beast blinked and squinted, his broad freckled face betraying a whole range of emotions.

  Attila was trying to calculate the rate. Two hundred thousand gold doubloons, it was... it was... He was about to Google the current in-game currencies rate but reconsidered. It was clear enough that this was one hell of a pile of money. He could always work out its exact size later.