We stop only when the sun disappears in the paling of the mountains and the orange sheen in the clouds fades. We managed to walk some 10 kilometers, and this is much, very much. As for the night – only suicidal people wander in the mountains at night.
The last quarter hour we spend gathering brushwood. Fortunately, it's plenty of it around, we're on the border between the forest and the Alpine meadows. Together with Unfortunate we drag in the small pine tree fallen of the wind and I tear the small branches from it, scratching my hands, then arrange them in a cone pile.
– That's enough, boys, – decides Vika. She lights a cigarette and makes a fire quickly and with experience.
The supper is very symbolical – raspberry jam and dry crackers. Unfortunate doesn't care at all: he chews with an appetite of electrical mincer. I can't down a single piece, I wish I could have a big chunk of fried meat with hot sauce and green peas, with a couple of bottles of cold beer. And all this is so close! One just have to exit the Deep, reenter, come to "Old Hacker" or "Three Piglets"…
Me and Vika glance at each other without an agreement.
I'm not sure whether she dreams of pork with beer or of trout with white wine, but not of a cookies with jam for sure.
– Tastes good, Unfortunate? – inquires Vika.
– Um-hm.
– What do you eat usually?
– Nasty things…
Her patience ends instantly.
– Now hon, listen to me…
Unfortunate pulls his hand back from crackers and looks at Vika questionably. We are on one side from the fire, he's on the other. Opposition.
– We've got a problem, – starts Vika, – And this problem is you. Maybe you don't understand the situation we have now completely… well, I'll try to define it then. Correct me please if I make any mistake, okay?
Unfortunate nods. When you press somebody, it's very important to give him an opportunity to object… or at least to pretend to.
– You were in "Labyrinth" and couldn't exit by yourself, right? Leonid have spent tons of time and money to save you and he did that, right?
Not quite – "Labyrinth" paid for my work initially… but I stay silent and Unfortunate nods obediently.
– Lenia rescued you and brought you to my place. A reward was awaiting him, a very big one if he would hand you over but he didn't do that. As a result, he's wanted as a criminal, he's searched for across all the Net. Right? Then my Institution was ruined completely in an attempt to seize you. It's not that difficult to restore the programs but "Amusements"' reputation is lost forever. Now I'll have to start everything from scratch.
– I'm really sorry… – says Unfortunate quietly, – I…. I didn't mean to bring so many troubles for you.
– Wait. We're still on the run. If you haven't got that already, I'll explain to you: there's no ordinary way to exit this space. Exits might exist but nobody knows whether we'll be able to find them in foreseeable future or not. Me and Lenia are divers, we can leave this place at any moment but we won't be able to return here, ever, and you'll stay alone here. Maybe forever. That's the situation we have… from moral and ethical point of view.
– I'm so sorry, – repeats Unfortunate.
– Let's talk about you now? It is you who is the reason for everything that have happened after all.
Unfortunate shrinks but stays silent.
– You're either human or a creature of the machine mind. The latter is doubtful though. If you're human, then you obviously can enter and exit the Deep by yourself. Like divers, or even cooler. Right? Otherwise you wouldn't look so fresh during your fourth day in virtuality. Would you like to argue with that?
Silence.
– Come on man, I certainly assume such possibility, – says Vika, – After all, a kilo and a half of brains is much bigger mystery than a gram of silicon in a chip. I can imagine someone who managed to enter virtuality without helmets, modems, deep program… And I even imagine his joy… and some shock from this event. Why not to play the fool a little, why not to envelope himself in a mystery? Everything is quite explainable. But try to understand, it's not a joke anymore – you make us suffer, you make the conflict harder and harder to resolve with each minute. Try to understand, we can't tinker with you forever!
– I… I'm tired… just tired… – Unfortunate looks at me as if seeking support.
No way.
– And the last thing – how we can resolve this situation, – enunciates Vika, – It's ridiculous to proceed this way, lead-time of the conflict wouldn't do us any good. If you don't want to uncover yourself or don't trust us or don't want to spoil such a beautiful legend – just tell us and we'll leave. Then the newbies will tell tales of The One Lost In The Deep… If you consider us trustworthy, explain who you are and why you started all this. You have two ways out, it's not that little.
She falls silent and I take and shake her hand gently. I never have enough cool to lead the situation to such clarity, to the 'either-or' state.
– I… – Unfortunate stops and looks at the fire. Brushwood scratches softly, sparks jump into the dark sky, – It's my fault. I'm tired, tired of silence… I shouldn't have done that…
– What are you talking about? – asks Vika, maybe in a bit too sharp tone. But Unfortunate is confused and demoralized now.
– Too quiet, – he mumbles, – It's impossible to comprehend beforehand, never. All sounds became dead, all colors faded. Seconds – like centuries. Billions of centuries. I was warned but I didn't want to believe.
He swallows some air and stretches his hand towards the fire. The flame touches his fingers.
– Neither pain nor joy, nothing. A Great Silence. Everywhere. Eternal Void. And the Void doesn't have any borders… I couldn't resist.
His hand pats the flame tenderly.
– I can't explain you anything. Leave.
I glance at Vika – now she'll get him… but there's only a reflection of fire in her eyes, black night and red flames. The Silence Unfortunate was talking about have touched her too, just as me last time.
I rise and pull Unfortunate from the fire. Auto-suggestion is a powerful thing: having burned in virtuality one can expect real blisters. I make him to squat by the stream and put his hand into cold water.
– Alrite, – I decide. – We'll sleep now. Just sleep instead of taking each other in. Me and Vika will surface keeping connection, we need to eat normally. As for you… do whatever. In the morning you'll decide what you want after all.
Unfortunate silently splashes his hand in cold water.
I return to Vika, she is okay again but all her passion have dissipated.
– Are you pliable to hypnosis? – I inquire. Vika snorts scornfully: it's just a rhetorical question, there's no hypnosis pliable among divers. If we manage to overcome the drug of the deep program, it's impossible to get us with words.
– My point exactly, – I say, – We all can play the fool, but what about dunking an interlocutor into Silence?
– I'm tired too, – whispers Vika, – You know, one more hour and I'll talk such riddles that even Unfortunate will be envious…
– We'll go to sleep now. Then we'll surface without breaking connection, to have a snack. Do you have any food at home?
– Sure.
– Excellent. Eat and get a nap. We'll come back in the morning and will decide everything.
We do exactly that. I make Unfortunate to help me, together we get three big piles of fur-grove and set them near the fire. The bed turns out to be so comfortable that I hardly overcome the idea to neglect the supper.
Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours…
The eyelids were so heavy, I hardly managed to part them. The fire was dancing on the screens, fur-grove was rustling in headphones – Vika was tossing and turning making herself comfortable.
– Lenia, are you interrupting the immersion? – asked Windows-Home.
– No.
I took the helmet off and looked at the watch.
Late evening. Not that late though to make it uncomfortable to visit the neighbors. Beer can wait a little.
Having unplugged the suit, I calmed down the panicking computer and looked at myself in the mirror.
A clown, with a plug on a belt. Should we scare old ladies a little?
Tights were lying in the laundry wash-basin. I picked 'em up and pulled on over the virtual suit, rolled the wire and stuck it under the belt, covering it with jacket. Not too bad, a normal guy, just a bit swollen one.
A guitar was ringing in the stairwell quietly. I peeked into the peephole and opened the door.
A company of youth was perched on the patch between the floors, one of them sang quietly torturing the strings:
– Oh the lonesome bird, you're flying high…
Seeing me, the teens seemed confused for some reason, just the neighbor from the apartment above asked quickly:
– Lenia, do you have something to smoke?
I shook my head and noticed that the guy squints at the tights distended on my side, just in the size of a cigarette pack. Hardly could he guess that some people live with plugs by their belts…
I rang to the neighboring apartment, waited for shuffling steps and suspicious "Who is there?". The old woman doesn't trust the peephole or her own eyes.
– Lyudmila Borisovna, excuse me for God's sake… – I said into the door, – May I please make a call from you? My phone is broken.
After a minute of hesitation the ancient locks started to rattle. I squeezed into the narrow opening and the door shut close immediately.
– The youth sits again? – inquired Lyudmila Borisovna. The old lady is 70+ old and doesn't risk to argue with young punks.
– Yeah.
– Why wouldn't at least you tell them, Lenia! No rest whatsoever!
No sounds from the staircase can be heard here, the granny has the powerful door but I don't argue:
– Sure I'll tell them.
– And what's wrong with your phone, huh? Didn't pay in time, got disconnected?
I nod obediently, admiring her acumen.
– You like to chat too much, don't you? – growls the old lady. We had a parallel number some time ago { two phones connected to one number }, but obviously it was impossible to live like this anymore. I paid for the number split and also subsidized the granny – a parallel phone was a bit cheaper for her. I think she decided I'm an idiot. But our relations greatly improved since.
– Sure, go ahead, call… – Lyudmila Borisovna nodded at the phone. Obviously she wasn't going to leave me alone.
Ah well, curiosity isn't a vice…
I dialed Maniac's number trying to ignore dirty dial disk and sticky handset.
– Allo?
– Shura, evening…
– A-ha…. – said Maniac in a satisfied voice, – Here he is… a criminal.
– Shura, they…
– Relax, I'm sorting this out. I have a license for local virus creation, they won't pick on this.
– Have you registered 'Warlock'?
– Of course, at Lozinsky's himself. All sources conform to the Moscow Convention, so they'll get nothing.
I feel relieved a little. If the virus wasn't registered with some antivirus creator, Maniac could get in a serious trouble. Certainly, I can be accused of reckless weapon use or of damage… but they'll have to find me first.
– Were you asked who bought the virus?
– Sure thing. I gave them your address… the most puny one.
A couple of years ago, when I just started to balance on the border of the law, one diver advised me to buy a couple of addresses and to never use them. So afterwards it were these nonexistent 'comrades' on whom all viruses taken from Maniac were wrote off.
– I said that you paid a grand for the virus. – Shurka goes on.
– You know, it'd be right if I…
– Relax, I have 5 requests for 'Warlock' at this price already. – Maniac laughs joyfully, – Coolness! I'm ready to buy beer for Jordan for such an advertisement. The whole Deeptown is stirred.
– Isn't the sale forbidden?
– Not yet. They are studying the source. You better tell me where were you an hour or a bit more ago?
– Well… As usual.
Lyudmila Borisovna coughed slightly, curiosity was fighting in her with an old woman's greed. The hourly charge is the worst enemy of computer people and windbags.
– Okie, in the Deep. I've dropped by, wanted to drink beer with you.
Maniac hesitates suddenly.
– You… look out of your door.
– What for?
– I rang, then sat on the bench outside, drank some beer, then ascended and rang again… Then I left a couple of Holstens under your door. Light. Look, are they still there?
I emitted the sound like the one of an old disk drive.
– Shura, what do you think, communism was declared this morning? What's wrong with you?
– Well, you just look, maybe they're there… – mumbled Maniac.
– No, they are NOT there! I'm calling from the neighbors'.
– Ah well… what the hell…
Sometimes my mind falters when I deal with real computer guys. Maybe Shurka had confused the real world and the Deep where beer costs peanuts?
– Tell somebody, they won't ever believe…
– Those who drank will, – noted Maniac gloomily.
– Come tomorrow around ten, – I asked, – We need to discuss something.
– Just don't forget to surface. I'll come.
– Bye Shurka.
I put the handset on the hook and looked at Lyudmila Borisovna confused.
– Was it too long?
– No, that's okay, – the old lady shook her head, – It's the business, don't I understand? What do you sell at least?
– Beer, – I said point-blankly.
– I liked beer myself… but is it really possible to indulge myself having such a pension?
– Lyudmila Borisovna, what if I treat you, huh? – I offered joyfully, – I just have some samples at home!
This would be the best way out, otherwise the old one will definitely drag herself to my place to call from my phone… as a compensation of her damages. But the people with weak nerves should better not enter my apartment.
– Well, if just a bottle… – the old one livens up.
The youth on the patch traced me with greedy gazes when I was carrying a bottle of 'Oranienbaum' to the next apartment. Needless to say, two bottles of light beer for four sound loafers isn't serious.