This time it's much less people in the column hall, but still around 10 people stand sipping beer and obviously waiting for me.
I go past them.
– Gunslinger!
I turn around. Two unfamiliar guys and long haired girl come towards me.
– I'm Gunslinger, – I agree.
– Who are you? – asks stooping guy with glasses. Many people pick such peaceful looking appearances to distract the vigilance of their rivals.
Looks like it'll be no fights with shooting today. Very good; yesterday everybody were pissed but their minds cooled down a bit as of late.
– This is not important.
– Gunslinger, what do you want? – the girl joins the talk, – Are you just playing?
– No.
– What do you want then? You were seen on the 33rd level all day. Are you stuck?
– No.
Delegation makes no headway, then the guy in glasses raises his hands.
– Peace Gunslinger?
– Okay, – I reply puzzled.
– People fear to go through the 33rd – he explains, – About half hundred of them gathered on the 32nd. Gunslinger, if you won't purposefully shoot the players, they won't touch you too. Otherwise the big hunt is gonna be declared, and not only in the Twilight City.
– Very good, – I agree, – But one condition… there is a guy with the pistol on the very beginning of the level. He must not be touched too.
The guy in glasses and the girl glance at each other.
– Deal, Gunslinger.
We shake hands.
– Let's go to "BFG"? – suggests the girl.
The deals are usually celebrated with beer, and I have six free hours anyway, so I nod. The rest of the group joins us and we leave the column hall in a dense group. I look around – either Alex is not among my companions or he hides in the different body.
– Guys, if anybody breaks the deal and attacks me…
– It'll be your and his problems, – confirms the guy in glasses.
– Great.
– Gunslinger, are you doomer? – asks the girl.
– Yes.
– Maybe yet played on the 'threes' { 386 }?
– On 'twos'.
– 'Doom'? On the 'two'? – asks the guy in glasses ironically.
– Sure not. 'Wolfstein'.
The crowd buzzes approvingly, most of them had only heard about the most primitive of 3D games.
– By the way, – says the girl, – I've recently met a guy, he entered Deeptown from the 'three'.
– What?! – the guy in glasses looks shocked.
– What you heard. As is, without the helmet or suit. He said he's a drafted sergeant, sits somewhere in tundra on the space communications station. Their equipment would just fit a museum, but they have a connection to the Internet through some military local server. He installed deep-program on 386-DX, entered Deeptown through some gate and ventured into the city. I noticed him because of his gait, shaky and jerky, obviously due to a crappy modem.
– Bull, – the guy in glasses shakes his head, – it's impossible to get into virtuality on the 'three'.
– Why not? Quite possible, if with 'sopr'. – objects somebody.
A long argument starts, about whether it's possible or not to enter virtuality on IBM-386 and whether the math coprocessor will help in this process. I just listen but don't meddle, even if I know the answer.
It's possible.
I started with the 'three' myself, also without helmet or suit, just like that hypothetical soldier in the most unusual leave in history. But this information is not for giving away.
In the meantime, the hall livens up. The guy with the guitar appears from somewhere, swarthy and long-haired. He smiles shyly, waves his hand and steps into the green substance which hisses under his feet. Then he walks into the center of the green zone, sits on the chair that stands on the small concrete patch and starts tuning his guitar without a hurry. I wave back to him, even if he can't recognize me in the Gunslinger's image. This is a legendary person in the Deep, one of the old hackers, and also – the bard. Our paths didn't cross for a very long time. He usually sings in "Three Piglets", where he even has a small share as they say. He's quite indifferent to "Labyrinth" and the fact of his being here is a rare luck. The singer brushes his hair off his forehead and starts singing.
The girl claps her hand against the table following the rhythm, the beer flows like a river. I get to know all the company, making Vika to remember all faces and names just in case. Using my distraction, one of them shakes my hand for the long time and sticks a primitive marker onto my shoulder. I pretend that I doesn't notice anything, hug the guy in a burst of friendliness and throw the marker back at him.
Go ahead and trace me now, lamer.
The fun reaches its peak, everybody's happy, including the smart lamer.
My head is already full with intoxicating fog, I stand up and smile to the players, – I have to go.
Nobody asks why or tries to make me stay longer. Being in the Deep isn't a free fun. I make my way among the tables, imaginary cubes hiss above my head, opening and spitting out monsters. I force myself not to duck.
I have around 5 more hours. Now "Labyrinth"'s divers are busy with Unfortunate, but for some reason I'm sure they'll fail.
Turning into the alley, I stop. Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours….
As a first thing after getting the helmet off, I opened the fridge, took out the soda, sausage and yogurt. It's time for lunch.
Everything is quiet on the screen. Gunslinger stands propped against the wall, rare passers-by don't pay attention to him. Some queer fellow whisks into "Amusements'" door.
– Hey, not to Vika! – I said following him.
– I haven't understood you Lenia, – replied Windows-Home.
– Never mind, – I said hiding my eyes, – Everything's okay.
I start feeling uncomfortable suddenly, what if somebody have come to that, virtual Vika? I imagined myself starting the fight in the nonexistent brothel and smiled but began to eat much faster anyway.
– Lenia, – said Windows-Home, – I must do my monthly reminders to you.
– Fire away, – I growl.
– To call your parents, – reproachfully says Vika, – I can dial the number, but this will require the phone line to be freed…
– No.
Not very nice of course, but I better call them in the evening.
– To pay your utilities.
Yeah, it's better not to postpone that. They can shut down the phone line in the least desirable moment…
– Thanks.
– To clean the apartment.
I looked around quickly. Yup, it'd be great to wash the floor and to wipe the dust and to paint the rusty central heating unit.
– Thanks Vika, acknowledged.
– Also, one more time I draw you attention to the fact that the level of the given tasks doesn't always correspond to the capacity of my RAM…
– Shut up.
I put my hands on the keyboard, pushed the empty yogurt carton down to the floor so that it wouldn't hinder me.
deep Enter I glue off of the wall, enter brothel's glass doors and Madam comes out to meet me.
– You're early today Gunslinger.
– Well, at least not for long this time.
Madam smiles and strokes my cheek.
– Just don't take the girls in.
– I'll try, – I reply with a voice of well behaving kid.
Madam nods, not really sure and turns to the guard:
– Escort him to the service area. To Vika.
– Thanks a lot! – I say from all my heart. Madam waves her hand tiredly and goes to the stairs. The guard nods at the little door that he stands by.
With a little confusion I follow him, into the very heart of the brothel.
There's a clean corridor, the summer forest behind the windows, the river and the bright sun. Heh, but Madam said it's always evening here… still want some sun, don't you?
The row of doors along the corridor, no names or numbers on them but the pictures instead. Kittens, puppies, mice, hares… It reminds a kindergarten a little, but a half naked blonde suddenly looks out of one of the doors, oys, vividly covers her breasts and jumps back inside.
I try to keep the straight face. There are rustles behind the doors when I pass them, the light noise can be heard. I know that if I turn around I'll see a dozen curious faces looking into the corridor. That's why I don't turn.
The guard stops by the door with a thoughtful black kitten on it and knocks.
– Yes? – I hear the voice that I instantly recognize and start slightly.
– A visitor, – replies the guard.
– Let him enter.
The guard taps me on my shoulder slightly and walks away. He's asked in whispers about something from half opened doors, but doesn't reply.
I enter, followed by the mocking gaze of the kitten.
The room looks like a hut in the mountains. The window is opened and the gusts of chilly wind enter the room, the noise of the river can be heard. Vika sits on the simple wooden chair by the window, studying her face in the little mirror, the quite up-to-date cosmetic set is on the table nearby.
– Hi, – she says, – Sit here quietly for a little bit, okay?
I nod and look around. There are watercolors on the walls, unfamiliar ones, almost all of them show the mountains, the fog and pine trees. They seem monotonous at the first glance, like creations of a hack-worker, prepared for the weekly sale but I look closer and nod in approval, these are not a 'stamping' made by experienced hand but rather a series.
– How would you call them? – asks Vika without turning around. It's nice to have a mirror.
– I Dunn, – I confess, – I always had problems with names. Well, for instance…
I pass along the walls, touching frames carefully. The mountains or maybe just one mountain but at different points of view, dense lashes of the fog, pine trees stuck to the slopes. The morning chill and dry liquid air. The ringing stream, rustles of wind, as if the picture can make sounds.
– Labyrinth, – I say, – Labyrinth of reflections.
Vika makes-up her lips ans agrees thoughtfully:
– Maybe… The main thing: it's vague. They buy better with such names.
– These are your pictures?
I'm amazingly slow minded lately.
– Yes. Doesn't look like that?
– It does. But I just thought you selected them with good taste.
– Geez, men… – Vika stands up at last. She is dressed in the white linen knee-long dress, sandals, the silver pendant hangs on a chain from her neck. – Is it supposed to be a first date compliment?
– The second date, – I try to joke.
– No, the first one. It was work in the morning.
– Okay, then I'll start telling you compliments, – I mumble, – You're clever, beautiful, talented…
– Add 'punctual' to it, – Vika ties her hair with a white band.
– No, I better say – generous. It's a heroism to sell such paintings.
– Nonsense, – Vika waves her hand lightly, – I sell the originals, these stay with me. They are better.
She didn't notice her mistake, and I'm really glad for it; I say quickly:
– Why?
– They sound.
Oh, that's what it is… The sound of wind and splashing of water coming from the paintings wasn't an illusion.
– The new art is being born, – I say.
– It was born long time ago and not only one new art. We just don't understand yet that this is an art. When the cave people were drawing deer on the walls it wasn't instantly recognized as an art either.
– Well, in this case all Deeptown is a work of art.
– Sure. Not all of it but some places sure are. Come here.
Vika grabs my hand without ceremonies and drags me to the window.
– Look.
Now I see, Vika was painting from nature… but do such mountains really exist? The central peak – hardly. It is at least ten kilometers high, it breaks out of the mountains chain as a proud rebel. The clouds circle its crest, unable to cover it. The mountain looks like cut into layers – the dark green of the forests, the light green of alpine meadows, the snowy ring and the gray lifeless granite of the peak itself.
The lake is spread out between the mountain and our hut which stands on considerable height too. The lake is not too big but is perfectly round, I'd say – looking drawn if it wasn't so alive. The water is dark blue, heavy, on the point of freezing.
I stay silent.
– Don't you fear it's just an entourage for whimsical customers? – asks Vika.
– Yeah right… They'll manage without it.
We look at the mountains.
– Did it take you long to draw that? – I ask quietly.
– Two years, – says Vika carelessly.
I nod. One could spend even more time on this. These are not standard beauties outside the window being sold on every corner. It seems to me that even if I take a very strong binoculars I'll not have to imagine anything, the picture is done completely, full volume.
– I want to descend there, – says Vika looking at the lake.
I silently nod in agreement.
– It's scary though, the path is too hard, – Vika sighs, – If you tie the rope to the window it's easy to get out there. But the landslide happened on the North slope half a year ago and it's most likely that the path is blocked.
I turn and look into her eyes. No, she doesn't joke or laugh.
– You want to say that all this is alive? – I ask, – You can enter there, climb the mountain, swim in the lake?
– The water is freezing, you'll catch cold.
– And this all lives? The snow is falling, avalanches and storms happen?
Vika nods.
– A separate server is needed to support such space!
– Two servers. One is completely full, the other one also supports the whole 'institution'.
I swallow the cold air and ask:
– So… why do you work here then? Any company would hire you as a spatial designer, just let them look into this window!
– I have my own reasons, – says Vika in a slightly raised tone and I understand that the question was inappropriate.
The freedom for everybody and in everything.
Who knows, maybe she likes to be a virtual prostitute?
– Thanks, – I say.
Vika frowns in puzzlement.
– Thanks for letting me to see it, – I explain, – You don't bring just anyone here, right?
– No. But will you show me your paintings? – she asks with a smile and I start. – You said you can't think out the names. It means, you had to do it before.
Uh-oh… My fault too and like Vika I haven't noticed that.
– I'm not drawing for a long time, – I confess, – It so happened… Maybe for good, I can't do anything like this anyway.
She doesn't even try to argue politely, she knows what she is worth.
– You know, I wanted to invite you to the restaurant, – I say, – If you want…
– No.
I feel myself spat all over. For some reason I was sure that Vika will accept, that she'll like "Three Piglets", that we'll stand above the mountain stream; even if it wasn't me who created the landscape I love it anyway…
– I understand, – I say.
– No, you don't. It's not because of the customers, it's a quiet hour now anyway and the girls can work for me. I want to invite you myself, to our restaurant.
I can't understand but accept. Vika examines me critically and straightens the collar of my shirt.
– Good enough, – she decides, – Let's go.
– Is it far?
Vika just smiles and grabs the small leather purse from the table. We enter the corridor and I notice that the doors don't squeak in curiosity anymore. We walk hand in hand, with decorum, like well-behaving kids on a walk. The corridor ends with winding stairs, I count 7 turns until the heavy velvet curtains block our way. For a second I think that the space is 'turned inside out' here and now we'll exit into the lobby on the first floor.
– Don't be surprised by anything, – says Vika and steps forward.
I follow her being absolutely sure that I'll be able to do it.
We exit to the sea shore.
The sunshine colors the sky in orange and gold. The sea breathes tiredly, caressing the shore. The sand under our feet is black, the entire beach is coal black. I know that such beaches exist, I never thought it's so beautiful.
White tables under umbrellas are standing on the shore, some people sitting by them. All are alive, not program fakes, I feel it instantly. Most of them are girls except two muscular guys by the table closest to the water and also a lean guy in blinders by the bar.
– This is our recreation area, – whispers Vika, – Let's go.
We sit by the empty table, Vika turns to me:
– It's self service here. Go to the bar, bring me some champaign.
I walk over sticking in the sand. Three men and twenty women watch me. Everything looks extremely strange, as if a terrible typhoon had swept along the shoreline blowing away hotels and houses but leaving only this part of an open restaurant. The impression is enhanced by the door through which we have entered – it stands in the sand lonesomely.
– Hi there, – says the guy by the bar quickly and shoves me his hand.
I shake it automatically.
– Vika prefers dry champaign, – says the guy, – But don't take the French one, take Abrau-Durso, it should be somewhere to the left under the bar… Are you here for the first time? I never saw you before. A quiet day today, all girls are here. Now they'll have a topic to discuss…
He chatters with the energy of Robinson who have met Friday for the first time. He has a very vivid face, a couple of teeth are missing.
– Gee, I like you, – says the guy, scratching his stomach, sunburned skin peeling off, – Hell, I really like you! Hee-hee… scary, huh? No, I'm not working here… well, I do but not like this… be careful not to be suddenly liked by those two by the water!
I start feeling dizzy already, I squeeze out a pathetic smile, take a bottle of brut from the ice filled bucket and a couple of high wine-glasses.
– Here, look… I was tanning too much yesterday! – says the guy in the meantime, tearing off a long piece of peeling skin. – I had a bet with the girls that I'll be sunburned, they didn't want to believe me. They come this morning – and I'm really burned!
He pushes the pitiful remains of his hide under my nose.
– Cool, huh? Worked like hell all night making tan simulation. I should try to offer it to somebody, they'll really grab it from me together with my hands… but I won't give my hands to them!
I nod hastily and run away with my trophies. Vika waits for me choking the laughter.
– Who is that? – I ask lowering myself on the chair. The soft whisper of waves by the shore seems to be the greatest bless.
Vika continues to laugh, then becomes serious.
– This is our computer genius, the hacker and the guard, the master of hard and soft… You can call him Computer Wiz or just Wiz. He likes that. Just don't call him Zuko.
– Zuko?
– Yup. He loves those instant beverages: "Zuko", "Spreem", other chemical stuff. The girls call him that, it really hurts him.
– But why is he… so weird? – I ask carefully.
– I Dunn… Maybe he scares our gays off, maybe he's really like that.
I examine the guys by the water askance and they also watch me discussing something. Then one of them is slapped on the lips slightly by the other one and turns away in hurt feelings.
I start feeling uncomfortable but Vika continues to smile and I ask with forced curiosity:
– Why would you need the guys? Can't the girls always manage the job?
– Sure. Remember the blue album?
I remember. The devil tempts me and I ask:
– And where do you keep those she-goats?
We laugh together and the tenseness disappears.
– This is a program, – confesses Vika, – We tried to put on animals' bodies but the behavior turns out inadequate. The customers for that don't happen often but at least we have everything. Any weirdness.
I pour the champaign into the glasses, we touch them.
– Good, – says Vika.
– Yeah, not bad, – I agree putting down the empty glass.
– "Abrau-Durso" is never bad. It's just for you – "not bad". I just had a doubt how will you act in such a company.
– Hm, what's so special? – I ask in the tone of somebody who walks in the company of gays and prostitutes every day.
Vika thinks for a while.
– No, you don't think so yet, – she says, – But it's okay. The most important is that you at least express agreement. It means, you'll make yourself to believe in it later.
– May I? – Computer Wiz stands by the table, somehow weirdly bent over and with a pleading grimace, – aren't you discussing me? I hope don't interrupt? May I sit?
– Sure, – sighs Vika looking doomed. The Wiz plops down on the empty chair, gets the glass and one more bottle from behind his back in a juggler's gesture: some kind of banana liquor.
– Vikochka dear, thanks! – he says, – I started to think I'm doomed to perish alone! Want some?
Vika fills her glass with champaign in an answer, I also decline the liquor. The Wiz pours it in his glass.
– For our acquaintance! – he proclaims, – I'm Computer Wiz!
– I'm Gunslinger, – I say mechanically.
– Oy! – The Wiz leans back on the chair, – Don't kill me! It's you who keeps "Labyrinth" so excited for the last two days, right? Vika, my congratulations, you've befriended the cool doomer! He makes everybody cry! He kills and kills, to the left and to the right!
– Is it true? – asks Vika.
I just nod.
– I'd never imagine.
– Well, I guess I should surprise you too.
– Hey Gunslinger, don't make too big mess in "Labyrinth"! – exclaims the Wiz, – Otherwise I'll take a leave from Madam, will move myself over there and will rip everything into shreds! I'm a peaceful guy usually but it's a nightmare when somebody pisses me off! Hold me three, two will fail… I remember once…
– Wiz, – says Vika, – We were talking, we have a serious talk. Could you please chat with Tina or Lena?
The Wiz nods sadly.
– It's always like this… Okay-okay, I'm leaving. Nobody likes me…
– I like you very much but Tina is depressed since yesterday. Cheer her up, I know you can do it.
– No problems! – Wiz brightens up. He picks up his bottle and in a dancing walk moves over to the table where the dark-haired splendid girl drinks vodka intently.
I just shake my head.
– This is our own small world here, – says Vika, – A pretty quiet and peaceful one. By the way, all girls come hear in their main bodies, not the ones we put on for the customers.
– So this is your main body in virtuality?
– Yes.
I make the next step.
– And the name too? Your name is Vika?
– In the Deep – yes. That's the only reason why I allowed you to come: you guessed it right.
She smiles sadly.
– In the beginning I even thought that you're some sort of a spy, a hacker or a diver, that you had identified my personality…
My heart starts beating hard.
– And what about now? Do you still think so?
Vika shrugs:
– Who knows? But I like you. I just want everything to coincide this way by itself… in a wonderful and beautiful way.
I don't have time to reply, the curtain on the door opens and the girl's face pokes in for a second:
– Natasha, Tina, your call. The green and the yellow albums.
The splendid girl by whom the Wiz have already made himself comfortable, throws the bottle at the door. Vika rises a little.
– Alice! – she says quietly but clearly, – Substitute Tina!
The girl by the nearby table nods but Tina raises her hands in protest,
– Vika, I'm alright.
She talks through the interpreter program but even through it one can hear feelings of tiredness and anger.
– I'll work as a kid, it's okay… That Cap pissed me off yesterday. { a nick here } One of the gays stands up and quickly moves between the tables, he hugs Tina's shoulders, whispers something to her and gently makes her sit, then looks at Vika questionably.
– All right Anjei, – she agrees, – Thanks.
The gay and one of the girls exit. Vika sits down and drinks her champaign in one shot, then suddenly says in a hissing whisper,
– Assholes. All you males are assholes.
– Who is Cap? – I ask.
– A customer. A constant one. I usually work with him myself but yesterday… I was busy.
– With me?
– Yes, – she replies sharply. – The girls shouldn't work with him, they are out of themselves afterwards.
– What does he need?
– The red album.
I recollect yesterday's evening.
– I haven't seen that one.
– It's an inclusion into the black album. It is not shown just to anybody. – Vika rises, – Damned… Sorry Lenia.
I rise too.
– Did you want to invite me somewhere?
– Yes…
– So go ahead!
Back in the lobby, I look around expecting to see Madam but she doesn't show up. I call the taxi and tell the address: "Three Piglets". Vika cools down slowly. I want to ask her about Cap and the red album but stay silent. I can't. Not yet.
– So, I showed you how we live, – says Vika, – Interesting, isn't it?
– It's okay, – I say, – Not too bad.
– Okay… – Vika takes cigarettes from her purse, clicks her lighter, – Not too bad…
I don't like when girls smoke, even if in virtuality.
– Vika, what did you expect of me? Screaming "How terrible!"? I'm not a hypocrite. Raptures? I can't see any reason for that either.
She touches my hand lightly.
– Sorry Lenia. I'm little worried for girls. You know, you're a random customer. You were fleeing from pursuit, ran into the brothel, went crazy on my picture… Sorry. You don't have anything to do with that.
We approach "Three Piglets". There's no 'rush hours' in virtuality: zone time canceled this term but some random fluxes and refluxes happen. For instance, now the hall is packed.
We elbow our way to the bar and I shout, "Hi Andrei!" to the bartender.
– Hi-hi… – says Andrei, giving a glass of cocktail to somebody, – And who are you?
Wow, it's really him, not a program.
– Leonid, – I reply.
Andrei knits his brow, he never saw me in this body and makes precautions.
– Hey man! – I say in a scary whisper, – What's wrong? Tortured by taxes again? The racket filched your file stuff? Just tell, we'll find…
Andrei leans over the bar and shouts:
– Ah! Haven't recognized you! Just look how you've grown! A real man!
Vika hesitates nearby patiently, obviously feeling out of place. Just like I did in the brothel's recreation zone.
– You want it as usual? – asks Andrei and outstretches his hand towards the bottles.
– Gin-Tonic, fifty-fifty, – I smirk, – It's me, it's me. We'd like to sit somewhere above the river. Alone.
Andrei frowns slightly and looks under the bar, at the terminal.
– Are all channels busy? – I'm horrified.
– We'll find one for you, – decides Andrei. He pushes some button, – A penny deal… Oh, what a perfect timing! Sudden disconnect, one channel's free! Go ahead, quick!
I grab Vika's hand and pull her to the stone wall of the restaurant. In the tambour I order:
– Individual space for us two. No access to anyone else.
– Acknowledged, – whispers the ceiling, – No access. You're guests of the restaurant. "Three Piglets" wishes you a nice rest.
– How cool, – says Vika ironically, – And you're their permanent customer?
– Yes.
I don't tell her all the tiny details, like about that little diver's fraud when I found and kicked some racketeers' butts. They stole original financial files from restaurant's owner. If I failed to persuade that gang of undereducated hackers, Andrei would have to fork up quite an amount… either for racket or for Deeptown's tax inspection. But in this case… everything ended in peace, even racketeers were happy… to get out of this so easily.
We enter the autumn.
Vika stops for a second looking around, picks decayed leaf from the ground, crumbles it in her hands, touches the tree trunk.
I wait. Usually I waver the same way when I enter unfamiliar virtual spaces. I also usually leave the deep to evaluate the real look of the landscape. Vika can't do that but spatial designers must have their own methods.
– Beautiful, – she whispers, – Maybe Carl Siegsgourd himself worked. I'm envious.
– Yours is not worse. – I console her but Vika shakes her head.
– Not in everything, he has an excellent sense of measure, while I can be carried away easily.
She kicks fallen leaves in childish manner, they slowly fly up and fall down again. Their flights are over already.
– Let's go, – I take her hand and lead her to the river. The table is laid for a banquet. The specialty of the house – fried pork 'a-la Piglet' is on the table in a big plate, also my favorite mulled wine and decent set of other wines.
Vika doesn't look at the table, she stands by the steep looking in the distance. I stand by her side. The stream washes over leaves of a fallen tree on the opposite bank. Looks like it was a storm lately. This space is alive too, just as Vika's mountains.
– Thank you, – says Vika and I feel great. I think I yet should show her the sea shore and the part of old Moscow that are adjoined to the restaurant but all this – later. I'm sure that we'll yet have time for that.
Otherwise why is everything?
– You know, I leave my space very seldom, – says Vika, – I don't know why.
She hesitates, then goes on:
– Maybe I'm just afraid to meet those who comes to us… to see them as the ones they can be– kind, cheerful, nice people.
– Why?
– Then it'll be true that all people are bifacial. You know, we're a garbage can Leonid. The one in which all shit which was accumulated in peoples' souls is dumped. Fear, aggression, unsatisfied desires, disdain to themselves. I think your "Labyrinth" is the same in this way.
– It's not 'mine'. I'm there for business.
– Then it's easier for you. But who comes to us? Milksops who can't wait to become men… who grew tired of being ones, some guys pissed off by their girlfriends with a wish to swagger… Some of them come and try all albums. They say: "We must try everything in this life."…
Again I restrain myself and don't ask why the hell does she work there then.
– Why do we drag the worst that we have in the future with us? – says Vika
– Because it does exist and we can't do anything about it. Just imagine that everyone around us are gentlemen in tuxedos, ladies in evening dresses, everybody speak in clever beautiful words, are nice and civilized…
Vika laughs softly,
– I don't believe in this.
– Neither do I. No society change, be it technical, social or a complex one like the Deep, ever changed individual moral principles. Everything was postulated: from disdain towards the bond-slaves to brotherhood and equality, from ascetism to complete license. But the choice was always made individually. It's stupid to say that virtuality have made people worse than they were and it's naive to hope that it'll make them better. We were given an instrument and it depends on us whether we'll build using it or crush skulls.
– Wrong instrument, Lenia. Everybody understand that they are really at home or at work, sitting by a computer in a helmet or just gazing at the screen and therefore everything is allowed. It's a game, a mirage.
– You're speaking like Alexandrians.
– No, I don't like their approach either. I have no wish to turn into the stream of electronic impulses.
– Vika… – I put my hand on her shoulder, – It's not worthy to guess or worry. The Deep is only 5 years old. It's yet a child. It grabs everything it can reach, speaks nonsense, laughs and cries irrelevantly. We have no idea what it'll grow into, we don't know whether it'll have brothers and sisters that will be better. We just must give it some time.
– We need to give it a goal, Lenia. We have dived into this world without defining for ourselves what have we left behind. Being unable to live in one world we have created another one and we don't know where to go, what to aspire to.
– The goal will appear, – I say without great confidence, – Again, just allow it some time… let the Deep to become aware of itself.
– But what if it did already? – says Vika mockingly, – …and became alive? Like in imagination of those people who never been here? Maybe there are people here among us that don't exist in real world? Reflections of void? What if you or me don't really exist at all? And what if all our ideas of reality are just fantasies of the Net that became alive?
Suddenly I feel scared.
No, I don't think that I don't really exist.
And I'm almost sure about Vika.
But I think I know the candidate for being the 'reflection of void'…
Vika goes on as if wishing to drive me crazy:
– Just imagine how it can happen. Hundreds of thousands or maybe millions of computers are already plugged into the Net permanently. Flows of information rush between the continents, accumulate on different hosts/routers, in machine memory. Nonexistent spaces live according to their own laws, change. Leaves are falling, our steps leave traces, our voices start avalanches. Information copies over, becomes tangled, mixes. Docile programs create plaster casts, shells but who knows how soon those shells will be filled with real intelligence?
– Any hacker will die of laughter listening to you, – I say in a 'wooden' voice.
– I'm not hacker. I just see what is going on around and I try to imagine what would somebody who came from nowhere think if he appears in Deeptown being sure that he is alive and real? Grimacing buffoons? People running around in "Labyrinth" and cheerfully killing each other? Psychos having fun in brothels? Everything that exists in reality we have here too. The sky and the Sun, mountains and seas, cities and palaces. Spaces within spaces, the mixture of times and nations, merits and vices. Everything! Everything and nothing. We need only what we hate in real life. Death, blood, fake beauty and borrowed wisdom. So what might the Deep think of people if it learns how to think?
I stay silent, remembering Unfortunate who kills monsters with a pistol but never shoots at players. Who doesn't tell his name and address. Who have spent two days in the virtuality already but his tongue doesn't falter of thirst and his feet don't stagger. Who doesn't understand that the kid that flees from mutants is nothing more than a hundred kilobytes of a program on the 33rd level's server.
I remember the words of Man Without Face: "Something have changed now." This was the direct hint, together with memoirs about 'Invisible Boss' and 'Lost Point'. Something had happened that doesn't have any analogies except in the folklore.
I start to shiver.
Accidents can't happen fifteen times in a row – "Labyrinth"'s divers would rescue Unfortunate… if the Net itself wouldn't resist that. There's nowhere to get Unfortunate out, he lives in this world only. He's chained to "Labyrinth"'s world, the world of shooting and betrayal, blood and ruins. He dies and resurrects not understanding what happens to him.
– Vika… – I whisper, – Vika, God forbid…
– What? – she looks at me and makes one step from me, – What's wrong with you?
– God forbid you're right… And I do think you're right.
She grabs my hand, squeezes it strongly, almost painfully and shouts:
– For how long have you set your timer? Where do you live? Lenia, wake up! You're alive, you're real! I'm talking nonsense!
It feels funny: Vika was scared for me.
– I'm fine, – I say, – I'm alive and real. I'm not having Deep-psychosis. But I know the guy who can't be alive.
As strange as it seems, Vika calms down. If I were her, I would feel even more scared.
– I had met those too… – she declares.
I shake my head.
– Vika, I know a man who behaves just as in your fantasy. He doesn't tell reality and virtuality, he lives in the Deep, not plays.
She gets it instantly, – In "Labyrinth"?
– Yes.
– This is called lost sense of reality… it's neural related, but nothing more.
– I saw what is it when the nervous system fails… This… is different.
– Lenia, – Vika smiles, – I've told lots of nonsense and scared you… You know, similarities are confusing.
I want to tell her about Man Without Face and Unfortunate. About accidents that became systematic. But I signed the contract and promised to keep it confidential.
And also – I'll have to confess that I'm diver.
I have enough experience of such confessions.
I can imagine what do the girls think kissing the diver, "Now he'll leave the Deep and my face will turn into the mask of tiny pixels. He's free here and I'm a prisoner."
I don't want Vika to think so, don't want it to be a wall between us.
– You're right, – I whisper and Vika snugs close to me.
We stand above the steep, kissing each other, the river roars below and the wind tousles our hair. A lonesome bird's cry, a momentary flash of the sunlight is the clouds, the leaf carpet beneath our feet. It's soft and smells spicy. I take off Vika's dress and she helps me to undress too. I kiss her body, my lips touch the live warmth, it's not me in the Deep but the Deep inside me, it's our world around, I'll never leave it, we'll get lost in these forests and will find a way to the mountains seen from her window.
Vika whispers something but I can't hear words, we are too deep, we left the boundaries of all spaces.
Then there comes a short moment when spaces merge.
We are together despite all distances and uncertainties.
– Don't leave me Gunslinger, – whispers Vika, – Just dare to leave me.
– I'll never leave you, – I say. We snuggle together, the wind slides against the skin, damp leaves cool my back, I look up but clouds whirl circling above, one moment – and I'll fall into the sky, will lose myself in realities following Unfortunate.
– Who are you Lenia?
But I can't answer, I hug Vika again and our lips touch making all words empty and unnecessary.
My time is up, – whispers Vika, – I'll have to leave… soon.
I understand, hug her even tighter as if I can stop the timer on the opposite end of invisible thread, to hold her in the Deep for a minute, for a second longer…
– Come to me again, – Vika raises her head and rises on her elbows above me, – Come today, I'll wait for you.
I nod, reach out for her but it's too late.
Her body turns pale and dims, dissolves in the cloud of violet sparks, the dress melts on the ground like a handful of snow. One moment and I stay alone under the sky that wants me to fall into it, to be lost in cloudy fog, to become one more human who doesn't understand the border between the worlds.
And Vika will be with me always, we'll become equal and I'll never have to answer the question with a kiss…
I shake my head and force myself face forward into withered leaves.
It happens, all divers know the moment when they want so much to become just like the others.
I need to flee.
Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours… Let me go…
Tiny screens before my eyes, cool wind from the conditioner.
– Ate me? – I asked the Deep, – Tasty, huh? Aren't your teeth aching?
The deep was silent. It had nothing to answer, it have lost again.
As if the world have broken into two halves, the one where it was love and the one where I was rolling on the floor hugging the void. Damn this split personality after which one feels himself an idiot!
I took off the helmet. The body was feeling like stuffed with cotton wool. I need a good sleep. I outstretched my hand and tore the virtual suit's cable from the port.
– Device fault! – said Windows-Home scared, – Lenia, check the plug of the virtual suit!
– Pause, – I said standing up and stretching. The suit needs washing.
I entered the bathroom, undressed and padded under the shower, stood there for a minute feeling tight jets of water on my face. Then picked the suit up from the floor, took a piece of laundry soap and began washing it.
Yup, this is how they usually ruin costly things – being too lazy… or too shy to bring it to the cleaners.
After washing the suit with extreme care, I hung it on the hangers and that on the hook above the bathtub. The water started flowing down. Squeezing the fabric that has hundreds of tiny wires, sensors and pressure imitators inside is even more insane than washing. Well, let's rely on Philips' reputation, maybe they even took the Russian carelessness into consideration.
My old virtual suit, Chinese made but still quite decent one, was lied about in the closet. I was going to sell it all the time but never found a time to post an ad in the Net. Now I was happy I haven't.
After pulling on cheerfully colored knitted fabric I walked along the room for some time. Feels quite okay, it became a little tight but not too much. I even started whistling something waving the suit cable in the air.
Vika's words are nonsense. She really was imagining things and I've lost my sense of critic. The Net is nothing more than just hundreds of thousands of computers plugged into phone lines. Virtuality is just a trick of subconsciousness.
Electronic intelligence is impossible on the basis of Pentiums and 'forths'. Any computer specialist will explain that to you if he won't feel too lazy to argue with an obvious stupidity.
I plugged the suit into the port and Windows-Home declared cheerfully:
– New device was detected! Do you want to install it?
– Yes.
My main suit will be drying for at least three days. Let Windows-Home better install the old suit properly.
– Movement sensors… test passed… pressure imitators… test passed… power consumption… test passed… critical overloads' limitation… test failed! Warning, the given virtual suit model doesn't conform to acceptable safety standards! Discomfort is possible during virtual contacts! It's not recommended to…
– Proceed with testing. – I ordered. All Chinese made suits suffer this drawback – unacceptable one from the point of view of Western Europeans or Americans. If the concrete slab squashes me in virtuality, the suit might react too eagerly and leave a pair of bruises on my body.
To be honest, I don't care much.
– Testing complete. I recommend to cancel device installation.
– Complete installation. – I said putting the helmet on.
– Are you serious? – asked Windows-Home.
– Yes.
– Device installed, – agreed the program with grief.
deep Enter The wind blows stronger, I shiver stepping back from the steep. My head is wet and it's not too comfortable to stand here.
Especially being alone.
I pick up the thermos and pour myself some mulled wine, take a couple of sips just to warm up a little. We yet will come here again, together with Vika. I really hope she liked it here, there's not too many places in virtuality that I like unconditionally.
– See you, – I say to the river, to the wind and to the autumn forest, then pad to the exit.
If I walk to "Labyrinth" I'll just kill the rest of the time and the divers will finish their attempts to save Unfortunate.
For some reason I'm sure they'll fail.