Labyrinth of reflections

0

The Portal through which "Labyrinth" is connected to the rest of the deep is really beautiful. It's a huge black marble ark going up into the sky. Purple sparks slide along it back and forth and low rumble is emitted by the stone, sometimes accompanied with deep nonhuman sighs. The ark's entrance is filled with swirling red fog.

And right into this fog people are coming, slowly as if mesmerized. Maybe not all or them are real, some of them are created by "Labyrinth"'s sysops for more solemnity but it's impressive anyway.

I join the common flow.

– Hey…

The guy walking by my side touches my shoulder:

– What's your name?

– Gunslinger.

– I'm Alex.

– Nice to meet you… – I turn away, but the guy doesn't leave me alone.

– Going to the first level?

– Yes.

– Let's go together? It's much simpler, honestly!

I examine him. He has obviously individually created appearance, his manners are somehow insolent but self confident.

– We'll pass 5-6 first levels together, – he goes on, – they are simple but it'll be easier to warm up. After that we'll separate if you want. Well?

– Okay.

We shake hands and walk side by side. The bloody fog envelops us, nothing can be seen around anymore. The voice comes from the sky:

– Your entrance mode?

– Pair entrance! – says Alex, – Alex and Gunslinger!

– Pair entrance, – I repeat, – Gunslinger and Alex!

The fog dissipates slightly. We're standing by the section car that rests on the rusted rails. Two overalls are scattered on it together with two mask helmets and two guns. All our 'fellow travelers' have vanished somewhere. We check the chargers and change.

– There'll be a trap by the station building, this is obvious… – mutters Alex, – We can't relax… Where are you from, Gunslinger?

– From Mommy and Daddy.

No more questions arise. We climb the section car and start pumping the lever. The old rattletrap accelerates quickly, we move through dissipating fog.

– Gunslinger, do you like [Stephen] King or what?

– Why?

– Well, your nick… or you just shoot well?

– You'll see.

We leave the fog. The rails are going along crumbling embankment, the station building is ahead burned like the Reichstag building after the storm. The likeness is improved by the red flag on the dome. Either it's an entourage detail (some Westerners are still setting their scores with the communism), or some Bolshevik have decided to commemorate the revolution anniversary. The latter is more likely, November 7th is in three days.

– Now look attentively and be prepared, – says Alex from behind my back, – The trap is there for sure. You know, everybody needs the spare charger…

– I know, – I say turning around. I shoot twice and the already aimed gun falls from the hand of my short-time ally. I bend down to him. Alex gulps the air with his mouth looking at me with senseless eyes. The program gives him 5 more seconds to understand his defeat. – And in fact, I like King too, – I inform him picking up his gun.

That's all. I had one gun with 8 cartridges, now I have two guns with 14 cartridges.

I throw the body down over the section car's skirting, under the embankment, onto the pile of similar looking bodies. It was me who was supposed to end up there according to Alex's plan.

– I was playing 'Deathmatch' when you even couldn't reach up to the keyboard, – I friendly say in parting. The body will decay quickly, in around 6 hours. That's how it is made here, otherwise all "Labyrinth"'s space would be filled up with bones.

The station building gets closer. I look at it trying to understand what have changed since my last time here. It seems to me that tower at the right wing was missing before.

The section car passes the frozen train, new and clean one, with people sitting by its windows. Their bodies are covered by some grayish film. This is the refugees' train that the aliens had burned when it attempted to leave the Twilight City. I look at the 'refugees' that sit decorously along the windows. Oh yeah. Lamers you are, dear "Labyrinth"'s creators. You have no idea what the REAL evacuation is and how do REAL refugees look like.

I jump over the skirting and roll down the embankment. Let the overconfident newbies ride to the very building. I'd better do it on my own feet… slowly.

This will be more reliable.

1

The first level is simple by definition. It must be like this in order for the newbies to draw themselves into the game and believe in their strengths… in order to come here more and more times. I approach the station building from its left wing and quickly check several familiar caches: in the sewer, in the power lowering booth and in the cabin of the overturned locomotive that lays across the tracks. There's nothing in the sewer, in the booth I find two chargers, and a sandwich wrapped in transparent wrapping is in the locomotive. No people or monsters show up yet and this is odd.

I approach one of the building's side entrances, stop by it for a second, then dash inside.

A-ha.

Two mutants run to me, two petty human-like demons. They are covered by some greenish mossy nasty stuff, rifles are in their knotty hypertrophied paws. The austere styled, 'professor' looking glasses remain on the face of one of them.

I shoot them point-blank, they even have no time to open fire. I change the charger and approach the bodies. Their rifles are destroyed by the bullets. Pity. One can't go very far with just a gun.

I walk through the building: the series of empty befouled halls, blood pools, walls covered by some desperate slogans and curses… Not a station building but the Brest fortress. { The fortress on Soviet-Polish border that was one of the first to be attacked by the Nazis in the morning of June 22, 1941 } According to the game's legend it was here where the last battle between the city police and the aliens took place. I know that one can find a dying sergeant somewhere in the building's basement who will tell the terrible story of invasion and will give away his rifle before he dies. But I'm too lazy to search for this tear-squeezing, endlessly dying program. I check some more caches one by one, finding brass-knuckles which I immediately put on my left hand, a couple of hand grenades and finally a two barrel carbine.

A couple of times I can see the human figures in the distance but they don't start the hunt and I leave them alone too: no time for that. I go to the exit to the building square. There, on the table with a bloodied female corpse under it… it always lays there… the computer is quietly working. The game menu is on the screen. I save my game, refuse an offer to quit and move further, to the second level.

Holding the rifle in my hands I run out of the building, creep to the road bending down low and hiding behind the trees. Not for nothing: I'm being shot at from somewhere like the higher stories of the building. They miss.

Most likely it's a human, monsters are dumb but keen.

The square is full of slightly dusty but quite operable cars. Their owners had boarded that train… I'm hiding behind the boxy and crumpled Ford and wait.

I always wait here…

In around five minutes a human dashes out of the building and approaches the cars in quick runs.

I raise and aim my rifle at him. The guy stops, he wasn't ready for a trap now, at the very end of the level…

– Get in! – I motion at the Ford with my rifle's barrel. Looks like the player doesn't understand me. I can't see the face from behind his mask but even if I could, the drawn face will say nothing about his nationality but he doesn't look like Russian.

– Get into the car and drive!

He understands, the interpreter program have kicked in. He approaches slowly, opens the door and sits inside.

– Hey! – the voice is hardly heard. I turn around not losing the sight of my captive. The slightly familiar figure stands in the breach in the dome. Alex. Wow, he managed to catch up with me, he entered the game again and caught up. Looks like it was him shooting at my back… – I'll make you! Do you hear me?! No peace for you! I'll make you!

The certain international gesture from me causes him to open volley fire but he has only a few loads while the distance is big. Throwing the rifle aside he tries to aim at me with a gun and at that moment the purple shadow rises behind his back. Geez, the fiery chokers can be encountered on the first level already. The glowing paws grab Alex by the throat and he falls down on his knees, flutters and shoots over his shoulder. I'm too lazy to wait for the outcome.

I sit into the car. The prisoner who submissively waited until the end of the talk, starts the car. He drives slowly, turning around often as if expecting a shot at the back of his head.

The highway is quite busy. Huge trailers try to catch up and ram us a couple of times. I lower the window and shoot them with rifle aiming at tires and windshield. These are just trifles yet, the monsters, "Labyrinth"'s creations. It's not them whom we should be afraid of.

The man in the front shudders when I shoot at first, then gets used to it.

The real enemies wait for us at the road junction. Three cars are blocking the road, armed people are hiding behind them, one stands openly in a casual, self confident pose. He has rocket launcher in his hands.

Shit. I have heard that there is heavy weaponry in the station building somewhere but never bothered to check.

– What will we do? – asks my prisoner.

One should be an idiot to try to fight the gang like this alone, it's easier to submit yourself and sacrifice some of your weapons hoping to be let go after that.

– Slow down gradually. Stop after my third shot.

He nods silently.

The bandit with rocket launcher looks at us amused, waiting.

Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours… let me go, Abyss…

I looked at the picture accustoming myself. The bandit… cars… the back of my driver's head … the sight's cross in the middle of the screen.

The cheater I am.

I stretched my hand, touched the mouse, moved it along the pad. The cross slid along the screen.

Here we go.

I opened fire, shooting with the left mouse button and reloading the rifle with the right one. The bright yellow shells flew across the whole screen, the headphones rumbled. After I shot those three who were visible, I moved my shooting at the cars. It's not easier to hit the fuel tank in virtuality than in reality but when you shoot at the drawn silhouettes, this is the task for a kid.

deep Enter What the hell, didn't I tell you to stop?!

– Stop! – I shout to the driver.

He stops right before the burning cars and turns around. Even through the dark glasses of the mask terror and admiration can be seen.

– How did you do that?

– Get out.

He obviously waits for one more shot, but I plainly point at the bodies, both shot by me and killed in the cars' explosions. Go gather the weapons. He won't dare to try to shoot me now. The speed and accuracy demonstrated by me is practically impossible for an ordinary player, only for the diver… and an old doomer who is used to the mouse.

Doomers already were divided into 'keyboardists' and 'mousists'. The eternal argument who is cooler was never solved: virtuality had come.

Now I dot the "i's".

One of the bandits is still alive. His foul language is so colorful and intricate that his national origin is obvious. The player's face is covered with blood, one hand is partially ripped off, with the other one he tries to reach the first-aid set. Only 5% of strength had left in him but the set would save him.

I pad closer, he notices me, jerks and shouts:

– Who? Who are you, asshole?!

And another 'multistory' phrase follows.

– Gunslinger, – I reply aiming the rifle barrel at the swearer's forehead. I don't like when one curses like this. Either the girl or a kid could be in my body after all.

We have to spend at least five minutes to gather all the trophies. Now I'm equipped excellently: guns, the rifle with an optical sight, the carbine, the rocket launcher, first-aid sets, grenades, the armor vest. My prisoner is equipped no worse, he just doesn't have the rocket launcher.

It's impossible to drag away such a pile of iron in reality, but here we all are Rambos a little.

– Let's go, – I say to the prisoner, getting into the car. He understands without translation.. We drive along the highway, I can't resist and shoot one more trailer using the rocket launcher. Of course I leave the car firstly… Labyrinth"'s creators had a good sense of humor and I don't want to watch my insides on the car's ceiling at all.

The second level ends at the suburbs of the Twilight City. We leave the car together and save our result using the computer which is diligently working on the ruins of a small cottage. Only after this my fellow traveler calms down. I wave my hand to him and go towards the sever cover hatch. The most reliable way through the third level lies through shit. A few people use it, it's too disgusting despite the shower at the end of the level. But I don't care, I'll pass the sewer looking at the screen and moving the mouse.

– Hey! – shouts my fellow traveler behind me – Why did you need me? You are the coolest one I've ever met!

Maybe he expects the reply like 'it's easier together' or even an offer to go together further, but I didn't like that he almost crashed into burning cars, so I tell the truth:

– I don't know how to drive and it's too long to walk on foot.

He just stays by the computer, bewildered and overfilled with impressions. And quite well equipped for the beginning of the third level, by the way…

10

I pass 14 levels. In 7 hours. The legend was born today.

Corpses and ruins were left behind my back. Only on the 6th level I was delayed for a while: it's very-very new and unwonted. Then I was stuck on the 12th, I've encountered similar levels before but the arena is always the arena and crushing a hundred plus monsters is not like pushing three buttons.

Fortunately other players almost never interfere anymore. The rumors are creeping across "Labyrinth" crossing levels with the ease impossible even for divers. The deep is not an obstacle for rumors, nothing could ever stop them.

Rumors are diver's enemy but now they spread fear across and this works to my advantage.

By the end of the 14th level I realize that I can't stand it anymore, I get out of the deep for a moment and see that it's almost 7 am. It's only bad for computers to be shut down, the opposite is true for humans.

The 14th level is the city's sport center. The computer with the game menu was standing on the judges' table by the huge swimming pool where corpses of crocodile-like amphibious monsters were lazily swaying in clear water. It's quite difficult to kill those so I had to use the plasma gun to boil up the water in the pool. When the water cooled down, I dived in the stinky broth and waited for the pursuers for about 10 minutes: two hysterical players, the guy and the gal that followed me for three levels already. They were in hurry being sure that I'll leave the sport center immediately and stormed into the hall recklessly yet beautifully: the guy with the plasma gun by his belt and the gal with the carbine atilt. I launched a rocket at them, right from underwater and they both vanished in the fiery swirl.

I crawled out of the pool leaning upon the boiled monster's body and looked into the crater. Nothing was left there, the guy's plasma gun's energy cells had detonated.

– I'm the Gunslinger, – I say anyway. It had become a ritual already and I like good traditions.

I save my result: "Gunslinger, 14" and click the exit button: we'll do everything right and honestly, I'll have a rest and return, return for sure.

The hatch opens in the floor by the judges' table and after jumping into it I find myself in the changing room.

The exit from "Labyrinth" is as solemn and magnificent as the entrance, though it's a different solemnity, a cheerful one. The room with pink marble walls, bright sunlight in the ceiling window, soft armchair, the table with fruits and food, the huge carved redwood closet. I take off my armor, helmet, masking overalls and stuff it into my 'individual closet' together with the pile of weapons. Only I will be able to use the goodies I've earned when reentering "Labyrinth". I take the shower and change. That's it, time to go. I don't want to break the program, enough headaches for me, after all it takes just 5 minutes to get to the hotel and exit in a regular fashion.

The changing rooms' doors lead to the spacious hall with columns from where Deeptown's streets can be seen. This is the border between the Twilight City and the rest of virtuality, as vague as a sound barrier in the ocean.

The hall is usually empty: players leave their changing rooms without hurry and then, in groups or alone they go to nearby restaurant "BFG-9000" or to "Kakodemon" bar to drink for their victory or defeat…

Today almost 100 people have gathered here and it was my merit. It seemed that everybody killed by me were present. Everyone leaving changing rooms is being closely examined as if they could see and remember my face under the mask-helmet. I'm being examined too but probably I don't fit into the image of merciless Gunslinger which they remembered during last moments of the game.

I approach the nearest group, the talk dies there and the muscular man with a square chin asks sharply:– Gunslinger?

Luckily, I get what he means and nod…

– Yeah… – resentment and rage are on my face, – With a rocket launcher, ass hole… and then says: "I'm the Gunslinger!"

Hm, it's a bit overdone possibly… it's pretty hard to hear just anything after being hit by the rocket, but Gunslinger's figure is already surrounded by mystical aura and my words about the rocket launcher are accounted as usual looser's excuses.

– You're the hundredth, – says the squared-chin guy, – I'm Tolik { Anatoly }

– I'm Lenia.

– Gee, he killed a hundred people on the spot, sucker! – informs Tolik with admiration and hate, – Just where did he come from, I wonder… Meet my friends: Jean, Damir, Katya… He made us all in the 9th level.

To be honest I don't remember, it was too noisy there: the one before the last attempt of the players to get together and crush the impudent Gunslinger in a body.

– And me – on 15th! – I say, – I was moving so well, but he…

– Have you heard this? – shouts Tolik, – The Gunslinger had moved on to the 15th!

The crowd answers with excited buzz.

I wave my hand hopelessly and head for the exit.

– Hey! – shouts Tolik, – Won't you wait for him?

– I don't have a rubber pocket! – I reply, – You'll soap up his mug by yourselves…

– This is true, – nods Tolik, – If we manage to recognize him.

He suspects me anyway but just can't confirm his suspicions.. I nod, make the next step and see Alex.

My first victim stands a little aside, silently listening to the dialogue with interest, it looks like he ain't gonna interfere. It's vendetta, one on one.

Works fine for me. I pass by him… a couple of seconds more and I'll enter Deeptown's street…

– Gunslinger! – I'm called from behind and a hundred of people exhales together.

I turn around, the voice was too insistent, it's no use to play the fool anymore.

It's not Alex, it's Guillermo.

– Gunslinger, – he comes closer, – I'm sorry to take your time… You have beaten 8 level records, yes?

Maybe. I look not at Guillermo but at the hundred of my recent victims. Their looks don't promise me any good.

– The management have decided to inform you that you can't pretend for the declared prizes… yes? Because you work on contract with us.

Thanks God, he talks quietly at least now and we can't be heard.

– I wasn't going to, – I inform him feeling dizzy of rage.

Looks like Guillermo understands that he began this talk at the bad moment, but he was ordered to.

– Nevertheless, we want to pay you a little bonus… 200 dollars… in appreciation of your intensive work. You've made a very good publicity for "Labyrinth"… we can barely handle the flow of new players.

He pauses, looks around the hall and says in apologizing tone:

– You can drop by to get the money right now, with me. There are many exits from our office.

Thanks a lot. What I don't like is to be pushed into the swamp to be cordially offered a helping hand afterwards.

– I'll come when I have the chance.

Guillermo sighs and pulls his hands aside as if to say, "I'm the dependent guy, was ordered to tell you that…" He leaves somewhere into the depths of the hall, into some service corridors.

99 pairs of eyes look at me.

– I'm the Gunslinger, – I say.

99 pairs of feet get off the floor. No, 98.

Alex stands where he was, just pulls the long sparkling gun from his bosom and shouts:

– Run you sucker!

I don't like the name but the advice is good. All insulted ones, except maybe Alex understand in the back of their minds that they were killed absolutely fairly but right opposite is being shouted out and that's why everyone is ready to avenge those friends of theirs who were hurt for nothing, forgetting that they also were competitors very recently.

I run like crazy.

Several shots can be heard from behind – Alex desperately tries to stop the pursuers, then shouts behind me:

– I'll make you by my own…….

The shout cuts out: he's not the one with the virus weapons usable in Deeptown streets or maybe "Labyrinth"'s security came into action.

I run like crazy.

The last thing I need at this point is to dissolve in the air. If insulted players understand that I'm also a diver, the hunt will turn into badgering.

But man, if somebody knew HOW I want to sleep…

The side street, another, and another one. I lower level of detail to increase the speed and almost pass the building with the sign "Any Amusements" in four main languages of Deeptown.

To my luck the sign is big enough and I understand its meaning in time as well as recollect Maniac telling me about virtual brothels' security systems.

The choice is simple and I storm into rotating glass doors.

11

The 'retro' style is accepted here: massive soft furniture, the wide table with big decanter on it, plates with fruits. The silent bearded man in the corner looks like a furniture item. Who knows, maybe it's in fact a security program.

And along the wooden stairs from the second floor descends the dark haired woman in long dress. She looks a bit older than 30 and has such a detailed face that I almost feel tempted to leave the deep to look at it in a normal way in order to understand how it was possible to achieve so unusually human appearance.

The woman comes closer and I finally understand the meaning of the words 'ripened beauty'.

It's really so, she has nothing of that youth that reigns Deeptown streets and obviously no idea of innocence comes to mind and very good that it doesn't, she doesn't need it at all.

The woman stays silent and smiles. I feel that the pause comes too long and mumble:

– Hello…

She nods.

– Good evening.

– It seems to me that it's night already, – I say.

– It's always evening here.

Well, let's note this.

– Call me Madam, – the woman goes on.

– I'm…

– No name please, it's not necessary at all.

– I'm Gunslinger.

She nods.

– Very good. Did you drop by for a business… – a smile, – or are you just hiding from annoying friends?

I instinctively look at the glass door, silence and emptiness is behind it.

– Don't worry. Those who enter here don't see each other. Never.

– In the second case I'll have to leave obviously? – I inquire.

– No. We're always glad to have guests. You can just sit here, drink some coffee or wine.

– Coffee, – I decide.

The silent guard disappears behind the door. I pad to the sofa and sit down, Madam sits across me with a smile.

– Don't such random guests ruin you? – I ask .

– There's nothing more useful than random fortuities. Besides, we have a rule: the guest must at least browse the albums.

I look at her confused.

– The pictures of the girls.

– Ah yes, the pictures… – I finally get it, – Sure. With pleasure.

The guard brings coffee in small pot, Madam accurately pours it into cups.

I put a little sugar in it and make a sip. Coffee is strong and fragrant, very hot. Even the sleepiness retreats as if I have really taken some caffeine in.

– Should I show you all albums? – asks Madam.

Looks like she puts a double meaning in the question but my head is still too slow and I nod. Madam smoothly crosses the hall and takes several thick albums in hard covers of differently colored velvet from the closet, puts them on the table before me.

– I'll return to my room if you don't mind Gunslinger. If by chance…

– she smiles, – something interests you, just call for me.

– Okay, – I agree.

On the stairs already, Madam stops and adds:

– By the way… if you like the picture and want to see it in more detail, rub the image with your finger.

I nod and drink my coffee glancing at the albums.

Do they have any emergency exits here I wonder? Most likely they do.

Though I also can pretend that my timer worked and to dissolve in the air. In any case I'm saved. I've got the better of the hundred of enraged doomers, earned the doubtful fame and came 14 levels closer to Unfortunate. Maybe he'll be dragged out before I reach him but I did my best anyway.

Coffee was finished, I looked into the pot… just look, it's full again! The magic thing from '1001 nights'. I fill the second cup and pick up the black album. Looks like African women are here?

It turns out that no.

There was a picture of the girl chained to the chair on the very first page. The thick brick wall was behind her, her head thrown back and the face can't be seen but half naked body promises much. The chains are shiny, with purposefully big links. The leather lash lies under girl's feet on the floor.

O-ooo-kay…

I close the album and put it on the corner of the table. Let it wait for sadists/masochists.

It's definitely "All Amusements".

I look at the cover rainbow. Let's try to guess. The blue cover, for instance.

Hm, I guessed right. The Hollywood actor was smiling merrily from the first picture, the one named as a sex symbol for the third year already.. He's dressed in leather jacket, high boots and lacy underwear. Wow my friend, just look how lucky you are…

There's no title under the picture obviously. Even if the poor cutie who never suffered from homosexuality tries to sue the brothel, it'll be very hard to prove anything. The photo is slightly altered and nobody will accept it as an evidence except for those of course who were in the deep and know how the brain excited by the deep program imagines things. But those who really know virtuality know its main law as well.

The freedom.

In everything and for everybody.

Probably this is right…

I put the actor on top of the lady in chains. Let them have their fun, poor martyrs.

The pink album. Is it really lesbians? Strange…

No, just couples. Two girls with defiant stares, one stands on her knees, the other leans onto the first one's shoulders, gazing at me. No-no-no. Not today. Not after 14 levels of "Labyrinth". Just lie aside for now, you'll not be bored together either, I can feel it.

The brown album. My imagination gives up, and I have to open it.

The old woman in flabby dress.

Oh my God, it's really for all tastes! Stirred up by curiosity, I rub the picture with my finger. The old lady on the photo becomes alive, smiles winsomely, starts dancing tripping with her legs and unbuttons her loose overall.

Granny, you're fucking crazy…

I put the brown album on top of the pink one and start laughing loudly.

The guard in the corner glances at me but stays silent. I can't help it and ask:

– Do the … customers happen?

I poke the brown album with my finger. The guard nods slowly.

The violet album. I turn it over in my hands trying hard to think of anything, then open it at the first page carefully: what if granddads are there?

She-goat.

I mean it: she-goat, the young one, whitish, with sharp short horns.

I don't laugh, I'm too exhausted already. But it's impossible to take a real goat into the deep so it's either a human operator or a program… that imitates sexual stereotypes of the young spoiled she-goat.

Granny, go milk the goat.

The three albums remain: the white, the green, the yellow. I open the white one, for some reason being tortured by thoughts of elves, angels and other heavenly creatures. Wrong guess, it's just women. As it should be, the famous top-model dressed in an evening dress

from Cardin is on the first page. Okay, I'll examine the dress later. I weigh the green album in my hand. What else have left that could feed the mighty erotic fantasies? Kids, of course. I open the album. A-ha. Juvenile millionaire, the movie star and aging housewives' favorite. Go help your Granny to hold the goat kiddo.

The yellow album. I guessed right again. The girl's face is vaguely familiar, I think she's an actress too. The entourage is amazing: the beach spreading to the horizon under the rising sun. Instead of tanning idly, better bring the bucket of goat milk into the house, baby.

Having finished with the most 'all' of offered amusements, I fill the goblet with wine, gesture at the pile of albums with non-traditional partners, the guard picks them up silently and brings away.

I had to take a better look at that one, with animals. I wonder, are there young crocodiles and the swans, ripened as Madam? Though, even if there are not, they'll be organized at the customer's request. Even the green squid or pit-bull.

I start looking through the white book making the girls to strip from time to time.

The choice is staggering. The movie stars and models end quite soon, followed by unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar but cute. I can't help myself and look at the very end of the album.

The clean white sheet is there and the title: "Draw your own happiness yourself".

Yeah, nobody would leave this place unsatisfied.

I start to browse the album faster. After all, it's possible to look at naked beauties, both still and moving, by less expensive means that being in the deep.

The African in palm leaf skirt on her hips, the Eskimo in furs, the Korean on the mat, the Polynesian with the ring in her nose… there's no racism in virtuality.

I turn the pages even quicker. One page, another and another…

Vika.

I freeze gazing at the girl that smiles to me every morning.

100

Madam appears quietly as a ghost, sits by my side and asks:

– Do you want more wine, Gunslinger?

I nod. Looks like I have spent a long time sitting here and looking at Vika. It was an evening twilight on the picture, she sat on the railing of the wooden verandah, the dark forest could be seen behind her, the dim yellow lantern in the high grass, the black mirror of the pool.

– We have many different customers here, – says Madam thoughtfully, – Some of them prefer movie stars, others – goats…

A slight smirk.

– Who is this girl?

Madam looks at me puzzled.

– Does she have a real prototype? – I ask.

The brothel mistress leans on my shoulder and looks at the picture for a long time.

– I don't have right to answer such questions Gunslinger. I even have no idea. It's thousands of faces here. Many of them might seem familiar to you, – a slight grin, – but this is not more than just a coincidence. Does she remind you somebody?

– Yes.

– Somebody real?

– Not exactly… – I cut my one-side openness, – Madam, can I… meet this girl?

– Of course, – our gazes meet, our faces are close, irony and mockery are in her eyes. – Ten dollars an hour. Forty dollars a night. Our prices are moderate, affordable to any hacker.

– You're cruel, – I say.

– Yes. When it seems to me that a nice young gentleman starts getting crazy, I'm cruel.

I take out the credit card.

– Forty dollars?

– Yes.

She accepts the money, hesitates, then says:

– Gunslinger, please listen to one story… Once there was a small silly girl, she studied in college, liked to hang in discos and to flirt with guys. And she loved a singer. He appeared on TV often, was interviewed, his pictures always were on magazine covers. He was a good singer and he sang about love. The girl believed in love very much.

– I know how these stories end, – I say. Not only Madam can be cruel.

– Once the singer arrived in her town during his tour, – Madam goes on.

– The girl was on all of his concerts. She jumped out on the stage with flowers and the singer kissed her cheek. Of course she had got what she wanted. On the second evening she entered his hotel room and left in the morning only. And never came to his concerts since. No, the singer really turned out to be a nice guy and a beautiful man. He was tender and sweet, sharp minded and cheerful. The girl didn't regret anything. But she didn't believe in love anymore. You know why?

– She mixed an illusion and reality, – I answer.

– You understand. Yes, sure. It would be better if he was dumb and dirty bastard. It would be much better. The girl would find the other ideal or would still love the singer's image. But this way… it was too much like a mirror, the love to reflection, the true and perfectly clean one. She really had met her dream, had found her ideal while it must be loved from a distance.

I nod.

Sure, Madam… Of course, the wise brothel mistress. Definitely, all-knowing master of love and sex.

I know.

– I'm sorry Madam, please remind me, have I paid you already?

The woman sighs.

– Follow me Gunslinger…

We ascend the stairs, there's a corridor, doors. Madam takes me to the door with number 6 and touches my shoulder.

– Take care Gunslinger… And by the way, the story that I've told you

– it happened not to me. But I know lots of such stories.

101

There's not a room but a garden behind the door, the night garden, crickets chirp softly, the air is fresh and cool, the dense grass is under my feet.

What did I expect after all? The hotel room with a squeaky bed and sheets damp due to frequent washes? This is what's good about virtuality: one can make the house's inner space as big as desired.

I walk towards the lantern light in the grass, my movements are slow and sluggish, drowsiness have almost retreated but the lead-heavy exhaustion have come instead.

I see the small house, either a good 'dacha' or a modest cottage, nobody around. The lantern shines lonesomely and sadly. For a moment it seems to me that merciful Madam decided to leave me alone. No, hardly. Compassion is one thing but the business is always on the first place.

I sit by the lantern – this is an antique kerosene lamp in net case. Those are used to descend underground. Into the deep.

The tiny moth circle around the lamp, bounce against the glass powerlessly trying to break into the light. Humans are much more stupid than the moth, they always manage to find a fire to burn their wings, that's why they are humans.

I don't hear the steps, just the hands lie on my shoulders, unsurely, shyly as if accustoming.

– Is it always so silent here? – I ask.

– No.

I shiver. Even her voice sounds familiar.

– It depends on the guests.

– I like silence, – I say, still not turning around.

– Me too, – she agrees, maybe in order to make a good impression on me, maybe sincerely.

I dare to turn around.

She looks just as on that picture. A short skirt, not a 'sexually' short one, just comfortable summer clothes, smoke grayish blouse, gray sandals on her feet, dark hair tied up with a narrow band on her forehead. The girl looks at me seriously, examining me as if I'm not the customer whom she has to serve but really just a guest whom she might accept or kick out into the night.

– I was called Gunslinger all day long today but you better call me Leonid.

She nods in agreement.

– And… if you don't mind, – I add. – If possible, I'll call you Vika.

The girl stays silent for so long that I decide that I have hurt her accidentally. But finally she just asks:

– Why? Do I remind you somebody?

– Yes, – I confess. – I'll forget anyway and will call you by that name. Let's better avoid this.

– Okay, – she agrees sitting down by my side, outstretches her hands and warms them above the lantern as if above the fire, – I get used to names easily.

– Me too.

We sit in silence. I feel falling down slowly – deeper and deeper…

– Vika…

– Yes, Leonid?

– Will I look very stupid if I fall asleep now?

– I don't know, – she says, – Was it a hard day?

– The hard ones are still ahead.

– There's a bed in the house.. as you understand.

I nod. I don't want to stand up and leave alive silence for the dead one.

– But if you want, I'll bring you comforter.

– Thanks, this would be just great.

She rises and I gather remains of my strength.

Abyss, I'm not yours… let me go , Abyss…

Firstly, I went to the bathroom. Luckily the suit and the helmet have long enough wires. Then I lagged to the sofa and fell on it throwing the pillow aside: the head in the helmet is lifted high enough even without a pillow. My neck will grow numb by the morning, but I don't want to leave now.

– Vika, turn the deep on… – I whispered to Windows-Home. The colorful whirl follows and I'm in the deep again.

– What did you say? – Vika stands by me. The one that is alive… almost…

– No, nothing.

I take the comforter, spread it out on the grass and lie down. The girl sits by my side. I look up at the stars, they are so close, so alluringly bright. I lack just transparent light wings to fly up and crash against invisible glass…

– Vika, aren't you lonely here, in this nook?

– Why do you think it's a nook?

– The stars are too bright.

– No. I like it here…

She lies by my side and I shift on the comforter a little to give her more space.

– Do you like the sky? – asks Vika.

– Yes. I like to look at the stars. But I have no idea what their names are.

– Why would they need the names we give them… – Vika touches my hand.

– Look, the star have fallen. Just above us.

– We could go and search for it, – I say seriously. Vika doesn't answer right away and I understand with horror that I'll have to rise now.

– No, – she decides. – Your feet are failing you Gunslinger. We'll look for it in the morning. It'll just cool down by that time and it'll be possible to pick it up.

– It's too much light in the morning, – I note. – Better tomorrow in the evening.

– You're strange, – says the girl quietly. – Okay. Let's look for it tomorrow.

– Had you ever found a fallen star?

Vika stays silent but I can feel how she shakes her head.

– Virtuality took the sky from us, – I whisper.

– You understood it too?

– Of course. The world leaves into the deep, into reflection of reality. Why would one fly to the Moon or to Mars if any planet is reachable here and now? The passion have gone. The interest have gone too.

– But computer technologies are developing rapidly.

– Oh really? "Octium" is not more than just very cool "686"… – I purposefully call Pentium-Pro by unaccepted name. – Nothing new was invented in last five years, we are just marking time.

Vika laughs softly

– Oh geez… an argument about technological developments… Leonid, you're in the brothel, remember?

– I know… You're bored?

– No, but… I just have weaned of the talks like this…

She pauses then slightly touches my cheek with her lips.

– Sleep. You falter, Lenia.

I don't argue, I don't want to argue with her.

All the more, she is right.

I close my eyes and fall asleep – instantly.

110

I see a dream. I often see dreams – the consciousness gets so exhausted during the day that relief is absolutely necessary, it's what the dreams are for, to save us from overload of impressions, to finish what was left unsaid.

I don't remember my dreams usually, just messy remains whirl in my head, not completely understood. But now the dream is bright and imprints into consciousness, maybe because I sleep in virtuality.

I'm standing on the stage, the heavy curtains' cloth is behind me. There's a man with a guitar on the stage, he's motionless as if chained by invisible chains. He sings but the words don't reach me. It's the deep between us, the Deep that became alive, that turned into transparent wall. I strain myself trying to walk to him, to break the wall and to hear the words but the deep is heavy and resilient like a rubber slab. It throws me back, I fall on my knees and freeze, unable to move. The singer turns his head and looks at me. It seems that he starts to sing louder, but I can't hear him anyway. I'm chained by the deep, I'm swaddled, helpless.

The singer nods and turns away, I suddenly understand that this is Unfortunate from "Labyrinth", the one I have to save… to save instead of standing on my knees under invisible rubber heaviness.

But I have no strength anyway.

From the opposite side of the stage, from behind the curtains another man appears. He's dressed in camouflage overalls and has a shotgun in his hands, he looks at me, smirks and raises his weapon. This is Alex.

I shout, – NOOOO! – but the sound is bogged in the deep.

Alex shoots, the bullet breaks the guitar's neck, the strings scream curling up in elastic rings, the silence barrier breaks. I jump up, the heaviness disappeared. The singer looks at the dead guitar with surprise. Alex pulls the lock of his gun, I jump, knocking the singer down and blocking him by my body.

– I told that I'll make you, – says Alex.

He shoots, the bullet hits my chest, tears my heart into pieces, goes through and stabs the singer. His body shivers and becomes dead.

This means – it's over. This means – I was too late.

I rise and go to Alex. My heart doesn't beat anymore, but I don't care. I'm the diver, the only enemy of the deep, the guard between the worlds, the one who had to be here in time. I got used to live without heart, it's not that simple to kill me.

The audience roars behind my back, whistles and stamps their feet.

– I've made you, – says Alex and lowers the shotgun.

Vika comes out from behind his back, outstretches her hand – there's greasy looking gray ash in it.

– I found that star, – she whispers and opens her hand.

The ash streams down to the floor circling in the air.

And then I die.

111

Awaken, I swallow the air greedily. The sun have risen already, the air is intoxicating fresh.

Vika sleeps, pressed against my shoulder, shrunk of the chill.

Very nice dream I've had indeed…

Like in that anecdote about Freud… "You know my dear daughter, sometimes there are JUST dreams…"

They say that it's a bad sign to sleep in virtuality.

– Vika… – I touch her shoulder, she shivers but doesn't wake up. I rise and cover her with the comforter. The lantern in the grass had went out. I go to the house.

It is small, just one luxury bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen. I take cream, cheese and pate from the fridge, make coffee on the small stove, several sandwiches, put all that on the small tray and return back to Vika.

She's still sleeping.

Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours…

Well, not bad of a rest: 3 pm. I visited the bathroom, got myself into order, even brushed my teeth holding the helmet under arm, returned into the room, took a can of soda, yogurt and a piece of sausage from the fridge. A stupid combination but who cares what I eat in reality? The main thing is just to stuff the stomach.

The Vika on the computer monitor is dozing too. I felt the slight shame before the program whom I'm being unfaithful to with the human.

deep Enter.

I caress 'almost alive' Vika's hair and whisper, – Time to wake up…

She opens her eyes, looks at me in puzzlement, then smiles.

– Thanks.

– For what?

– Well… I had such a great rest. It doesn't happen often.

– I brought the breakfast.

– This is MY duty, – sighs Vika with imposed resentment, – Thank you, Leonid.

We drink coffee and eat sandwiches. Somewhere far in the forest the bird's voice rings.

– I had a bad dream, – informs Vika.

– About the stage? – I ask and my heart stops as if pierced by the bullet again.

– No, it was like I found the fallen star but it have already burnt. Utterly.

The heart shivers again, it echoes in the temples, hollowly and dully.

It's a bad sign to sleep in virtuality.

What links were between us, fallen asleep in the deep? Unheard whispers and sleepy grimaces, strained muscles and shaking eyelashes – everything was melted into electronic impulses and was transmitted through the deep.

To touch the one who was by my side.

Sleeping, just as me.

To slip into her dream.

It's a bad sign – to sleep in the deep.

– We'll look for it tomorrow, – I say. Vika looks at me ironically and asks:

– You're what, a millionaire's nephew?

I shrug.

– I want to see you again. Just to see you.

She hesitates before asking:

– Tell me… Don't I attract you?

– Sexually?

Vika nods.

– You do.

– Then… why?

– This shouldn't be so easy, – I also can't decide to finish at once, – And it should not be for sale.

– Lenia, you go crazy.

– Maybe.

– You even don't know who I am. This, – she raises her hands to her face, – is a mask. A make-up. I can be whoever.

I'm silent, you're surely right, I don't argue.

– I can be old in reality, – says Vika without mercy. – Or terribly ugly. Or perverted male. Do you understand?

I understand. It's doubtful about the male though…

– Don't be stupid, Lenia, don't fall in love with the mirage.

– I just want to see you again.

She decides finally.

– Come to "Amusements" and ask for Vika. Without 'order'. Okay?

– Won't Madam be angry?

– No.

– Okay, – I touch her hand. – Deal.

We finish coffee and sandwiches, Vika looks at me but says nothing.

Let her.

I rejoice inside. Inside I'm concentrated and business-like.

I'm a 20-year old again, flirting with the whimsical coeval. The only difference is, the thought about the bed doesn't thrill me as much as then.

Together we leave the garden, exchanging meaningless phrases. The door stands right on the grass, reminding of the scene from some old kid's movie. Vika opens it and enters the brothel's corridor, I follow.

It's quiet and sad in there.

The customers never see each other. Come here everyone and find your cure..

– My time is over, – says Vika, – my timer will come up now.

I nod. It's pretty understandable, the timer is a holy thing.

– Thank you.

– What for?

– For the fallen star.

Looks like she wants to say something, but obviously her time was really up.

Vika dissolves in the air.

I whisper, – Bye… – and descend the stairs. There is another guard in the hall now, I wink to him and pad to the door, not waiting for the answer.

– Gunslinger!

I turn around.

Madam stands on the upper landing, leaning on the railing heavily.

– I think you shouldn't have come here, young man.

-Maybe, – I agree, – But it so happened.

Madam sighs and turns away. Let her.

I don't need Deep-Transit today, I still remember the route of yesterday's flight, and the exit from "Labyrinth" and the entrance are just five minutes apart.. I walk along ever-evening Deeptown's streets, looking around, expecting the ambush.

But either the pursuers' passion have exhausted since yesterday, or their finances had.

– I'm Gunslinger! – I shout entering the red fog in the portal. Others turn to me and I laugh raising my hands up to the lightning pierced arch, – I'm Gunslinger! Gunslinger!!!

1000

Today I've become the Death and the Death have become me.

This happens sometimes.

I cross "Labyrinth"'s levels almost without hiding, shooting the monsters and passing the other players. The players try to avoid me too. Except those who feel offended since yesterday or consider themselves heroes.

Those I kill.

I was killed myself twice too. At the first time I've lost all my weapons and was thrown back to the beginning of the 19th, the water level. The whole team had worked here, at least 20 people, I can't imagine what "Labyrinth"'s servers manage to coordinate actions of such a crowd.

I feel offended and kill them all, one by one, catching them in the swampy growth that covers the city's water reservoir, diving and dragging them under water where I could survive longer than any of them because of leaving virtuality. To the last of them, it was Tolik if I'm not mistaken, I cut the throat with the razor sharp leaf of the alien sedge. This is something new in "Labyrinth"'s program – the possibility to use improvised means.

Then I gather their gear and proceed forward.

On the 24th level, this is the bridge that connects industrial and residential blocks of the Twilight City, Alex catches up with me.

I'm finishing passing the bridge, the procedure that mostly requires the sense of balance and strong nerves than the ability to shoot well. Fortunately, I have the method proved back on the hair bridge of Al-Kabar.

The explosion bangs before me when I jump from the last slab that hangs over the chasm. The fiery whirl blossoms on the bridge, I'm thrown against the concrete parapet by the explosion blast.

Alex stands at the beginning of the level. When I look in the binoculars found in the main cache of the 20th level, I manage to examine him better. He has just a minimal gear – a carbine, a rocket launcher and a couple of first-aid kits.

– Gunslinger! – he shouts and waves his hand.

He has plenty of loads but doesn't shoot. I don't either.

– I'll make you pal! – he shouts, – Do you hear me? You're dead!

He follows me from the very first level and almost manages to catch up. Maybe he's a diver too, one more candidate for the Medal? My nerves start failing me, I leave the deep, catch Alex in the sight's mesh and launch three rockets one by one.

Somehow he manages to evade them and explosions thunder behind his back, ripping into pieces some poor guy who just have entered the level. Alex is stunned too though, he squats and shakes his head trying to rise. I aim the launcher again but then lower it. The anger have passed.

– Cool down, you lamer! – I shout throwing the launcher behind my back and leave the level. If he's not a diver, he'll get stuck on the bridge for quite long.

The monsters get to use me well on the 31st level. It's at least a couple of hundreds of them here, beginning with the weak and dumb mutants and ending with the scum flying, jumping and digging into the ground and asphalt.

I'm standing at the beginning of the level for approximately seven minutes – this is the skyscraper's lobby and shoot the cheerfully gathering monsters. Carbine shells are over as well as the rockets. I throw away the useless weapons. I'm being wounded twice and have to use several first-aid kits.

The lobby's window cracks and the half transparent muzzle shoves inside. Other monsters keep running in.

I take the plasma gun from my shoulder and open fire. I have lots of energy cells, so far saving the most powerful weapon available.

The level is burning. Blue lightning bolts of my shots ruin the storeys together with monsters and other players. I burn the whole block down to the ground.

The monsters calm down. I move through the wreckage.

Several attacks more, much weaker this time.

I leave the level being empty. Very, very nasty level. The monsters are far less smart than the people despite any programmers' efforts, but they suppress by their numbers.

I was instantly killed on the 32nd level. There was a guy with winchester at the entrance and he shot me point-blank. I don't have any ammunition, I try to run towards my enemy to beat him to death with brass-knuckles, but three bullets in a row blast the remains of life out of me.

I begin the level again from scratch, without the armor and with just a single gun, as usual.

Blacked out with rage, I shoot the bastard approaching him is zig-zags, he drops his winchester and falls backwards. I start hitting his head against the asphalt, with each blow shaking out one percent of strength. He doesn't even defend himself, just mumbling cheerfully:

– I killed Gunslinger! I killed Gunslinger…

I take all his weapons – he had too little unfortunately, and leave the half dead idiot for the monsters to lacerate.

The good thing is, this level – "shopping mall" – is pretty easy, a little break for those who survived the 'mincer' of the previous one. It's long rows of supermarkets and small shops… if one doesn't go too far into them, there's no particular danger.

I obtain the carbine, the rocket launcher, the armor vest and some ammo. Then, not getting into fights, I proceed to the exit.

To Unfortunate… damn him.

When I enter the Disneyland (the blood stained doll and a pile of little bones by the cheerful entrance), I start thinking that Unfortunate could have been saved already. This would be funny.

But Unfortunate is still here.

I look around for some time to remember the surroundings. When I passed "Labyrinth" for the last time, this amusement park was not here. The 33rd level was unpleasant but quite standard.

Unfortunate sits by the fence of "Russian Hills", huddled up… I still prefer to call them "American Hills". From one side he's covered by the elegant booth with the ride control mechanisms, from the other – by the wall that encircles all "Disneyland". A comfortable place, it's impossible to stalk him unnoticed. I would hide here too.

But not for so long anyway, not for more than two days.

I approach Unfortunate openly, raising empty hands. He doesn't react. Maybe he's sleeping.

Maybe he's dead.

Death in virtuality is quite an unpleasant thing. I saw one such corpse… the most horrible thing was that it was "alive" – continued to walk along the street, colliding with passers by, shaking, repeating last convulsions of its unlucky owner. He was shut down manually, after two hours of his channel tracing. Nasty thing is it – the dead body walking in the street…

But Unfortunate shivers and raises his head.

– Privet! – I shout – Hello! Ne strelyaj! Don't shoot!

He doesn't answer, but doesn't rise the gun from his knees either.

– I came to help you! – I hear the rustle behind my back and turn around. Some guy with the plasma gun looks at me in shock.

I wave my finger at him and nod – go on.

It's not necessary to convince him, he recognized Gunslinger and is not very eager to compete in keenness.

– Let's talk! – I say approaching Unfortunate, – Okay? I'm your friend! Go steady!

Looks like he doesn't want anything, neither to befriend, nor to shoot me.

I squat by his side, outstretch my hand and carefully take the gun from him. He doesn't resist.

– Do you understand me? – I almost shout. And Unfortunate condescends to answer.

His lips move and I more guess than hear: "Yes…" { in this case – in Russian } At least something. The compatriot…

– Are you here for long? – I ask carefully. Interesting, have he lost the sense of time already?

He nods. At least this he does understand.

– Is your timer on?

No reaction.

I shake his shoulder and repeat:

– Did you turn the timer on? Is the timer on?

Unfortunate shakes his head. Uh-oh. The worst case. I turn around – most likely Guillermo watches me, and shout:

– You see? He can't exit by himself! Trace his channel!

I don't quite believe in the success of this though. Thus, I'll have to drag Unfortunate to the end of the level and convince or force him to push the exit button there.

Though, it's nothing impossible in this.

– Now we'll stand up and go, – I say softly, as if talking to the little kid. Although, he surely might be one who managed to seize upon the desired toy in his parents' absence. This happened before. – Can you walk?

An unsure nod.

– Let's rest, – I understand that I talk nonsense, Unfortunate 'rests' here for more than 30 hours already but I go on: – We'll rest, eat and go forward. There'll be nothing terrible anymore. I'll lead you.

I take off my mask-helmet, the air is clean enough on this level and open the package with food. I give him a huge sandwich and a can of soda. The virtual food won't help his body but will give him a fake vivacity in the deep.

I take a bite, chew and look at Unfortunate. He just sits with the sandwich in his hand.

Yeah. A hard case. I wish I came here a day earlier.

– Eat, – I urge him. I outstretch my hand and take his mask off. The red oval from the respirator stays on his face. Otherwise, it's a pretty nice face, a normal, not a standard one: the blond young guy, just his eyes are tired and dim. – Come on! – I encourage him.

He raises the sandwich to his mouth and starts chewing slowly. Good. A piece for Mommy, a piece for Daddy, a piece for Uncle Diver… Maybe he's really just a little kid?

– My name is Gunslinger. What's yours? – I ask. He doesn't answer, too busy with his food. – How old are you?

The last question is a serious offence. Everyone is equal in virtuality. If he has at least a little experience in Deeptown life, he'll certainly answer… Oh, HOW will he answer…!

But he's silent.

Hard work is ahead.

Well, the prize isn't small either. I wouldn't ever exchange it for precious "Labyrinth"'s half a million. It's impossible to buy the Medal of Complete License – a single case like this would immediately ruin it's value.

– Feel better? – I ask Unfortunate. He nods. – Very good. Stand up.

He raises submissively and I return him his gun. This is not more than just a symbolic weapon on 33rd level, but at least he'll feel himself more confident. I really want to believe in this.

– And now let's go, calmly and confidently.

I'm an idiot.

I forgot about the 'grabber' demon around the corner, forgot how Guillermo demonstrated it to me. I walk along the "American Hill"'s fence, stepping like in the parade.

And surely the demon grabs me cheerfully with his long hand, rakes me up and raises into the air. The demon looks like a stomp, covered with tentacles… baobab's stomp most likely. The toothy mouth is in the center of it, strong seven fingered paw grows from the butt, now turning me over in the air, kneading, turning me into an accurate, one-bite meatball.

The Unfortunate's gun whispers: "Tak-tak-tak", shooting the charger out at the monster.

Hanging in the air, I have time to be amazed by his strange posture: the body bent forward, his shoulders drawn back, the gun is in outstretched left hand.

It's impossible to kill the demon with this weapon.

But the paw suddenly stops breaking my ribs, weakens and I fall from the three meters height right down into the greedily opened gob.

To my great luck, the monster can't chew and swallow anymore. I scramble out of the stinking hole trying not to look at the teeth at least ten centimeters long. There are shreds of clothes on them. Not mine.

I'm covered with saliva and it hisses on my armor vest. I wipe myself with tufts of yellow dry grass, then pad to Unfortunate. He's relaxed, sluggish and barely alive again.

It appears so…

– Thanks, – I mutter, press the first-aid kit to the hand, it clicks injecting the medications and disintegrates. Pretty well was I crumpled.

– You're welcome, – Unfortunate says quietly but clearly. Though, this name doesn't quite fit him anymore. To kill the demon with a gun!

Theoretically it's possible though. "Labyrinth"'s creators declared many times that one can kill any monster with a gun or even by the brass-knuckles. Theoretically. If one knows one single super-vulnerable point on the monster's body.

But I haven't heard about such deeds yet.

I drop the winchester from my shoulder and give it to Unfortunate. He takes the weapon melancholically.

I'm armed with the launcher. It's only four loads there, but we'll try to get more now.

– What is your name? – I ask.

No answer.

What the hell… let you be Unfortunate then.

"Disneyland" is made beautifully. I Dunn whether it copies any real park or only embodies the fantasy of game designers. But the monsters riding the view wheel, throwing the fireballs at each other must have been born in somebody's sick mind. The sight is so amusing that I look at it for a couple of minutes before shooting a rocket at the wheel's pivot. Explosion and it falls on it's side slowly. Debris flies at least 20 meters high.

I look at Unfortunate askance: will he appreciate the show?

Not in a freaking bit.

– Let's go, – I growl. Looks like I start to get used to my silent companion.

We pass the water rides. There's blood in the pools instead of water. Some boats sliding along the purple smooth are filled with sitting skeletons, others are empty. The nasty shrilling screech is heard – mechanisms were not made to work in this type of liquid.

Disgusting.

And over there – the whole family of mutants: two adults and three little ones in bright flower patterned dresses, made themselves comfortable for the picnic. On the small gas stove they fry a piece of leg in leather boot. I waste one more rocket. They don't even try to run: those are not a fighter monsters but ones created just to pump up the dread.

I wish I could find the one who created all this vileness and kick his ass. Not in virtuality.

– We'll soon be there, – I say to Unfortunate. – You do pretty good.

He nods, as if with slight gratitude. Why did "Labyrinth"'s divers waste so much time?

The guy proceeds great.

Together we deflect the attack of the flock of petty flying monsters. Unfortunate shoots sparingly and keenly, leather wings break, clumsy bodies fall down and burst.

– Let's go, – I say.

It's only by the big concrete field with small cars sliding along it where the little delay happens.

There's a little kid in one of the cars, a little black boy. He steers trying to dodge from three mutants that drive him across the field with screeching laughter. Once the kid passes close to the fence glancing at us with utter terror.

Unfortunate raises his carbine.

– This is not a player, – I explain tiredly. – This is a part of the program. Some bonus points. You rescue the child, take him to the safe place and get some weapon or an armor as a bonus. Let's go, no need to waste the time.

But Unfortunate had obviously lost the contact with reality completely. He starts shooting.

Three shots – three mutants. They try to fight back throwing fireballs at us but Unfortunate is quicker and much more keen.

The giant spider crawls out from somewhere attracted by shooting sounds and starts pouring on us the bursts from the machine gun implanted into his muzzle. I have to meddle. Two rockets – under the cat's tail { wasted. ;-P }… more precisely: under the spider's mandibles.

The silence falls, just the kid who have got out of the car squats and cries.

– Let's go, – I decide. Now nothing is left but to bring the kid to the shelter and take the well earned ammunition.

We walk through the fence torn by machine gun fire and pad to the boy. I lag slightly, pick at the spider's remains with my foot trying to figure out whether it's possible to use his machine gun.

Slime, chitin and iron debris. Nothing to look for.

Unfortunate approaches me holding the kid in his hands carefully and I feel sympathy to him involuntarily. He's a fool, turned off the timer and got lost in the deep, but he's a nice guy after all.

– Where are your parents? – I ask the boy hoping that the proggy is not too complicated and I won't have to waste the time for persuasion and care. The boy silently points at the building nearby. Thanks God…

We approach the building, I keep the launcher ready, Unfortunate is not battle-worthy.

The entrance looks suspicious to me, the door is torn from its hinges and screeches, even if there's no wind. Behind it is full darkness. Windows are covered with blue moss from inside.

– There? – I ask. The boy nods. I raise my foot above the threshold.

– I'm sorry… – the boy whispers clearly, – they said that they'll let Mommy go if I…

In the last instant I manage to jump back and the jet of fire misses me. Something is heavily moving inside the building and rolls on the floor. I launch my last rocket in there.

An explosion bangs, but sounds only become louder after it. The boy screams, breaks free from Unfortunate's hands who tries to hold him, but the kid scratches his face, slips down and rushes into the door.

– Mommy!!! – his thin scream can be heard followed by the muffled champ and the silence falls.

– What a nice walk for beer it was… – I mumble dragging Unfortunate by the shoulder out from the building. He seems to be ready to storm inside after the boy, right into the welcoming gob of the unknown monster.

– Why? – he whispers, turning to me, – Why did he do this?

It's useless to explain him the logic of "Labyrinth"'s creators, he obviously takes everything what's going on seriously.

– They forced the boy to lure the passers by into the ambush, – I say,

– They threatened to kill his mother. That's why he submitted.

Unfortunate stays quite for some time as if thinking over my words. Then asks:

– And why did he rush inside?

At least now my ward have become a little more talkative.

– He was afraid for his mother.

– We need to help them, – says Unfortunate gripping the carbine more comfortably.

He's definitely ready to crawl even in the devil's gob.

– They're already dead! – I shout, – They have perished, believe me!

He believes and lowers the weapon. Thanks God he doesn't insist on revenge for the poor kid.

We go further.

I have an empty launcher, the Unfortunate's winchester has 10 loads at the most. Aren't we armed great?… What a beautiful walk.. And when I notice the guy standing in some 100 meters from us with the corner of my eye, my mood becomes even more lousy.

– Knock him off, – I command. Unfortunate turns to me in surprise.

– Why?

Sure. If he believes in reality of events he would never shoot at people. What a nice guy.

– Give me the weapon! – I insist, looking at the stranger intently. Is it Alex or not? Gee, how I need my binoculars now…

– No! – says Unfortunate firmly and hides the winchester behind his back.

I even don't want to argue with him, I just stand and watch the alien. He studies us too for some time, then steps behind the building's corner and vanishes.

Looks like it wasn't Alex.

– Let's go, my grief you…

In half an hour our situation improves a little. The purple clouds in the sky disappear opening the evil Southern sun. We're almost near the exit from Disneyland. Unfortunate managed to deflect the attack of two spider-like monsters, I find the loads for the launcher and the plasma gun with one energy cell. The life becomes better.

We take a break in the shade of the ruined pizzeria. This time I don't have to ask Unfortunate to eat. He chews the last sandwich very concentrated, I watch him. I don't need food, but at least he could offer to share it, lamer…

– Why did you want to kill that man? – asks Unfortunate.

I don't dare to tell him that his gear would be useful for us.

– He could attack us.

– No. Dick is good.

– Dick?

– Yes. He tried to help me. This morning.

My brains screech in strain.

So, one of "Labyrinth"'s divers watches us? Without interference, without offering help. All this is odd.

– Is Anatol good too? – I launch a probe.

Unfortunate shakes his head energetically, but doesn't try to explain the reasons for his dislike towards the second diver.

– What about me? – this becomes interesting. Unfortunate stops chewing and thinks.

– I don't know yet, – he concludes. Then adds in apologetic tone, – Most likely, good.

It's better not to stop the talk. I carefully take Unfortunate's hand and say:

– Do you understand that everything around is virtual reality?

– Yes.

Perfect. This is half of success.

– Hey kid… What is your name?

– I can't say, – he confesses with obvious regret.

– Are you sure?

– I can't.

– Kid, you're in virtuality for one and a half day already. this is much, very much. Your body is tired, it requires rest, food, water…

I really hope that my voice sounds insinuatingly, like hypnotizer's.

– I need to exit, – he agrees.

– I'll help you, – I promise again, – We're already close. but if something goes wrong, it'll be easier to help you by other means.

Unfortunate swallows the remains of sandwich and looks at me questionably.

– Tell me your Net address, – I ask, – "Labyrinth" will inform your providers, they will send a guy who will eject you from the deep manually. There's nothing shameful in this, I swear, it can happen to anybody.

– No, this is impossible.

– Listen to me… If you are so shy about what happened, or fear something… I'll personally come to you. Wherever you might be. I'm a private party. I don't care about "Labyrinth". I just want to solve your problem! Do you believe me?

– Yes.

– Then tell me the address… – for a moment I think that I've won. I'm really ready to jump out of the deep, to buy the plane ticket and go to Unfortunate's home, even to the Sakhalin [Island] or to Magadan.

– No.

Annoyed, I hit the wall and hurt the finger bones.

– Then stand up! – I command.

The exit from Disneyland is made inside the mirror labyrinth. The labyrinth inside "Labyrinth"… I start feeling dizzy imagining this inclusion of virtual spaces.

– Okay… – I say when we pass the stone statue of the moustached old man with the pile of some sort of ad brochures in granite fingers. The statue watches exiting players sadly. – I'll go in front of you. You'll keep close behind, okay? And try to notice the enemy first, you have keen eyes.

– All right, – says Unfortunate.

We enter the mirror labyrinth. In the beginning it's just a corridor with mirror walls, then it begins to branch, alternating with columns and I lose orientation completely. There's ten pairs of divers and Unfortunates around me. The world breaks into pieces, rotates and flows.

Shit.

It's absolutely different from the mirror labyrinths they like to show in cheap sci-fi movie tales. It's impossible to confuse reality and illusion, no matter how directors try.

Here it's no difference.

I think about leaving the deep, though it'll not help: the detailed illusion will be replaced with the schematic one, that's all.

– Careful, Unfortunate! – I warn, mechanically calling him by the name invented by Guillermo.

He doesn't protest.

We wander in the labyrinth for twenty minutes and finally enter the big hall.

It's a mirror one also: 13-edge prism. Computers are installed along the walls. It's the exit!

And just under the ceiling there are small balconies where monsters stand in pairs. I haven't seen those before – big bulging eyes, long hands holding carbines firmly, scaly bodies.

Except this, they're quite human-like.

– Get back! – I shout, and Unfortunate seems to try to jump back into the mirror corridor.

But at this moment monsters open fire.

Bullets pierce the mirror floor, sharp needles stick into my body. I shoot at random at one of the balconies, clearly understanding that only one of them is real, all others are just reflections.

The fiery whirl, the hall overcasts with a smoke. The shots are thundering, my right hand is wounded, I jerk with pain, throw the heavy tube of the launcher at the left shoulder. I don't even have time to exit virtuality.

And Unfortunate rushes back.

We stand side by side, shooting at the damned mirrors and they shatter with mocking jingle. I'm wounded one more time, scream but continue shooting.

The last rocket doesn't find its aim too, I throw the launcher up, at one of the still intact balconies, hit it – the glass!… – grab the plasma gun and make the hard choice between the last two targets.

Wrong choice.

The blue fiery blast hits the dimming mirror.

The energy cell is empty.

One of the monsters is dead, either hit by the shot or just badly cut by the shattering glass. But the second one continues shooting. His carbine is aimed straight at me and he hits the trigger.

Unfortunate covers me with his body.

The whole volley hits him and he sinks down. The monster recharges his carbine, quickly, with experience…. and I stand frozen, unable to comprehend what happened. And anyway, I don't have anything to answer with, I don't have any loads.

The shot thunders right above my shoulder, deafening me. The fiery sphere flashes on the balcony, burning the monster down to ashes, splashing tenacious threads of charges in all directions trying to find any other target.

BFG-9000.

The weapon that I failed to get in my hurry rush through the levels.

I even don't look who was shooting and bend down to Unfortunate.

His face is a bloody mask, the chest is torn by the bullets but he's still alive – five farewell seconds given by the game.

– Reflection… – he whispers.

I wipe the blood from his face and rise.

The husky guy in full armor stands behind me, weapons hang on him like ornaments on the Xmas tree. His face is dry and calm, breathing filter pulled down on his chin.

– It's hard to kill the Alien Prince's escort guards. – he says. The voice is quiet but one can feel boiling emotions under this calmness.

– You're the diver… – I say.

– You too.

The armored giant doesn't look like the guy who was watching us before.

– Anatol'?

He nods and I remember divers' courtesy rules.

– Leonid, – I introduce myself.

"Labyrinth"'s diver nods, throwing the bulky "BFG-9000" on his shoulder.

Most likely we had met at some gathering, he just was in some other body, as well as I was though.

Anatol' pads to the Unfortunate's body, looks into his face and nods again.

– As always.

He slightly kicks him as if making sure that Unfortunate is really dead.

And then I hit him on the face, hit so hard that Anatol is thrown against the wall.

1001

Dick, the second "Labyrinth"'s diver, whom Unfortunate called a 'nice guy', is the one who pulls us apart.

We fight for around five minutes, without intention to kill each other, just venting out the rage and hate. Dick pushes the barrel of his "BFG-9000" between our bodies and informs quietly:

– Three more hits and I shoot.

Anatol looks at him askance, lets me go and then hits me under the ribs in a short blow. I catch my breath and kick him in the groin. Now it's Anatol's turn to writhe in pain.

Dick calmly waits for the third hit but we stand still.

– Good, – decides Dick lowering his weapon. He speaks Russian, clearly and almost without accent, – D-divers… motherf***ers.

– This imbecile lamer… – hisses Anatol, – This asshole…

– Cool down, – advises Dick. – He went well, I was watching. Not always honestly, but always well.

Dick is not high, lean and lithe, but in this pair he's the boss. Anatol calms down and starts wiping the blood from his face. I get busy with the same.

– You played well, – says Dick, – but everything isn't that simple.

– I understood that, – I agree shifting my gaze from the Unfortunate's body, – What's going on?

– Explain him, An, – throws Dick out and sits on smoked shattered glass of the floor.

Anatol winces as if was asked to eat a handful of leeches but submits himself.

– Did you weirdo really think we're playing the fool here? – he asks.

– You know better, – I growl.

– We try to drive him out every hour! – screams Anatol, – I led him seven times! And Dick – eight times! Do you understand, dumbass? We know every corner here! We can smell when something changes! Understand?

I start to understand.

– Had Guillermo told you that we're trying to pull the guy out? – asks Dick in a dull voice.

– Yes, – I sniffle with my broken nose.

– Great! – cheers up Dick, – Then why the… – he swallows the swear and just waves his hand tiredly.

– Who is this guy for you? – asks Anatol looking at me with a heavy gaze.

– Who?

– Unfortunate! – shouts Anatol'. He obviously wants to kick the body one more time to illustrate his words but stops just in time. – Your brother? Your brother in law? Who is he? You're what, in really dire straits that signed for doing our job?

– Well, I can see how YOU do it.

– Anatol' asked right, – notes Dick, – Who is he for you?

– Nobody.

– Listen man, if you know his address, it's better to drag Unfortunate out manually.

– I don't know his address, – I say, – Can you believe me? This is just a customer. I was hired to save him.

– By whom?

– I don't know either. The guy had no face.

I watch their reaction, but there's none. They took my phrase about Man Without Face as a figure of speech.

– No better, – says Dick.

– No easier, – Anatol' mechanically corrects him, – No easier. { The Russian saying was here… Impossible to translate adequately. :-/ }

– Thanks, – Dick looks at me askance, – What's your name, man?

– Leonid.

Dick nods.

– You know me as Crazy Tosser. { same in Russian original } I just blink. Crazy Tosser is one of the oldest and respected divers, an aged cheerful pot-bellied guy… at least he has this appearance on the gatherings. So this is where Crazy earns his living…

– Guys, I ain't gonna take over your job, – I say. – I have a definite request – to rescue Unfortunate. I couldn't refuse.

Both divers soften instantly. Looks like yesterday's stir and my headlong journey through "Labyrinth"'s levels have planted certain apprehension into their minds.

– You're doomer, right? – asks Anatol' – One of the old ones…

– Yes.

– Oh well… You were going fine… – says Anatol' turning away. – I heard the stories. Even if a half of those is bull…

– Thanks, – I say. Nice words are pleasant even for a newbie… { remake of another Russian saying…. ;-) It gets harder… }

– It's impossible to save Unfortunate, – says Dick.

– What? – I feel lost.

– Impossible.

– Dick is our fatalist, – smirks Anatol, – Okay. Sit down, I'll explain.

We sit around the Unfortunate's body and Anatol' starts his story. I listen, skipping details and remembering the main facts.

Unfortunate doesn't tell his name and address.

Unfortunate is a perfect shooter… and would he be more lucky he could pass "Labyrinth" in one day and get all the prizes.

Unfortunate never shoots at other players.

– What? – I ask.

– What you've heard. He doesn't shoot at the players. He kills the monsters in a snap, -mutters Anatol, – One feels envious seeing it… But he didn't shoot at humans even once. When I was dragging him out for the first time, it was the thing why I failed. I was sure he'll help…

– He "flows"… – I say – He considers what's going on real… well no! He said it himself that it's virtuality around…

– Um-hmm, – agrees Anatol – He didn't lose orientation but the humanism is his quirk.

– Religion? – I guess, – Pacifist?

Anatol just shrugs.

– So it were the players who killed him each time?

– The fate killed him, – Dick enters the talk, – He was killed by players, by monsters, by ruined ceiling, by ricochet, he drowned in melted asphalt and fell down from the height. Fifteen deaths, all different.

– It's impossible, – I note. – Unless he does it himself.

– If he's suicidal, then he must be very-very cunning, – Dick doesn't agree, – Everything looks like an accident. It's just too many accidents already.

– Dick thinks it's his karma, – says Anatol – He had earned this fate somehow. And whatever we do, it's impossible to get him out.

– Crazy, this is bull, – I say. Dick just smiles, – Guys, isn't there ANY mean to shut the player down forcefully? Without knowing his address?

"Labyrinth"'s divers look at each other.

– Don't hide it, – I beg, – It's serious..

– There was a method, – confesses Dick. – Anatol have tried it.

I look at Anatol waiting for explanations.

– Thirteen deaths in a row, – he answers reluctantly, – If the player perishes thirteen times in a row with interval of less than five minutes, the program kicks him out without notice. This is a barrier for absolute dummies.

I still don't understand.

– I tried it this morning, – says Anatol, – I haven't drag Unfortunate through the level, just stood at the beginning of it and started to kill him. Thirteen times, then two times more, I thought that I did a mistake in count. And nothing happened!

– Stop! – shouts Dick jumping up, – Leonid, one more step and I'll kill you. This is a game, understand?

I retreat from Anatol. Dick is right, one can't measure what's going on in "Labyrinth" with the real world's or even Deeptown's measures. This is deep within the deep.

– How did he respond? – I ask.

– I explained everything to him before! – Anatol hardly refrains himself too, – Don't think I enjoy that! I explained everything, was shooting at his head with the carbine. I thought maybe he'll resist somehow, but in the beginning he tried to hide, then just sat and waited!

Now it's clear why Unfortunate thinks so about him.

– Leonid, it's a game, – repeats Dick. – On the 17th level you had to shoot the boy tied to the tunnel door in order to pass. Did you do it?

Sure I did, it was impossible to untie him…

– That was just a program Dick, a drawing and a sound file. It prevented me from getting to the real guy.

– And how many people did you shoot in the first day earning reputation? – shouts Anatol,– And don't tell me about fair fight! You're the doomer of the old training, you're diver! All "Labyrinth"'s heroes don't have even a half of your abilities in a fight! You can jump out of the Deep and not feeling any pain! You can shoot like being in the shooting-range! You can walk along the wire as a rope-walker!

He silences and frowns, – Was Al-Kabar your work?

I nod.

– Beautifully done… – Anatol calms down as fast as he fires up, – So listen up, Leonid. We won't interfere in your business. Make a try. But don't vent out on us! We're doing our own job.

– And now it's our turn, – adds Dick. – Return in six hours. If we don't get the guy out by that time, it'll be your turn again.

I don't argue. They are hosts, I'm the guest. I rise and walk to the computer by the wall.

– Hey Leonid! – shouts Anatol' behind, – Do you know why you couldn't kill those escort guards at once?

I shake my head.

– The programs can cheat too. Wherever you shoot, only the last target will be the real one.

Well, thanks for info… I touch the keyboard and save my result.

– In six hours! – says Dick behind my back, – Not earlier!

1010

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.

1011

The first thing I see entering the 33rd level is Anatol sprawled on the grass. My first thought is that even a professional can fail but Anatol raises his head and waves to me.

Unfortunate is also here – in his corner.

– Hey Gunslinger! – it is obvious that Anatol is not going to change his horizontal position into vertical one, – Crawl over here!

I sit down nearby and nod questionably.

– We're gonna refuse from that… – Anatol nods towards Unfortunate, – …assignment.

I stay silent, letting him to relieve himself.

– I don't believe in karma, – says Anatol, – If one brings the guy to the exit with such a care as if he's a crystal vase but he still dies, it means he wants it himself.

– Oh?

Anatol lowers his voice to whispering:

– Look, you have your own reasons to save him… go ahead and try. But think first – he's in the Deep for two days. Have you seen such heroes before?

– Yes.

– Hoarse voice, walks like a robot, understands everything from the third attempt… Right?

I look at Unfortunate and shake my head.

– So, it means that he eats and drinks, he visits bathroom and orients himself in what's going on.

Anatol rises a little and squats.

– Gunslinger, this guy thinks we're idiots. Either he's here on an assignment from the management checking how we're doing our job or he's another diver, just as we are. Or both at the same time.

I have nothing to say. Of course Anatol is right. There's no other options from the normal logic's point of view. But I just have some problems with 'normality' as of late.

– Crazy came to see the management, – says Anatol, – Either they confess that they are checking our abilities or they stop demanding impossible from us.

– They'll conclude that Unfortunate is a diver.

– See?

– This is a very comfortable version Anatol. Some diver trickster making fun of entertainment industry and his colleagues… Of course, nobody would shut down "Labyrinth" because of such a trinket.

– Gunslinger, I dragged him through the whole damned level, – says Anatol tiredly, – I've shoot all guards in the mirror hall…

I nod, it's sure possible with his gear and experience.

– You know what happened next? – an anger appears in diver's voice, – He dropped his carbine. And it shoot him right between the eyes!

I stay silent. What can I say? Unfortunate doesn't want to leave the level…

– I'm completely exhausted… – Anatol spits on the grass, – I can't even look at this asshole anymore, not to mention to save him…

– Anatol, nothing is done without reason.

– Then what does he tries to achieve? Huh? Well, I'll tell you. He wants us to cancel our contracts! To get the warm place himself! Alone or… in a pair with somebody. With the diver who will kinda save him!

He looks into my eyes and I take the challenge.

– You accuse me of double play?

Divers never frame divers. It's too little of us. That was the main purpose of the Code, that's why we meet three times a year neglecting our usual caution and mutual distrust.

If the divers start fighting each other in Deeptown the whole Net will suffer while the Net's well-being is the most important thing, it has enough enemies in the real world beside that.

– I don't know, – Anatol lowers his gaze, – Maybe not. I'm sorry. But you're being framed too. Who ordered you to save Unfortunate?

– The anonymous. I have a channel to communicate with him, but I fear it's for a single use only and too well secured one.

– Can this anonymous guy be diver?

I shrug.

– So make your conclusions. We have already failed, you've stirred up the whole "Labyrinth" but you'll flop too. Then some Unkie will arrive from nowhere, will save Unfortunate and get the contract.

Anatol stands up, unties the armor on his chest and offers in a business-like tone:

– Fire.

– What?

– Kill me. Then you'll be able to get all my gear. Or you're gonna fight the war with the carbine?

I hesitate and Anatol shakes his head:

– Gee Gunslinger, you're just like Unfortunate himself…

He presses the plasma gun to his chest and pulls the trigger. A short blow, blood splashes out but he's still alive. Huge is the strength of "Labyrinth"'s divers.

– Fuck this! – croaks Anatol and shoots again.

The armor is bloodied all over but I try to ignore that. I take it off of him and pull on myself, then I pick up weapons and ammo.

Either Unfortunate doesn't look at us or he just doesn't react to such an unusual gear exchange procedure.

I pad closer and sit down beside him. Everything is like in the first time: lowered head, dull eyes behind the mask. Is he really the diver, now sitting by the computer with a sandwich and a cup of coffee? Glancing at the screen from time to time, ready to jump into the Deep at any moment – and to start to take me in…

– Aren't you bored here? – I ask. One second pause… Interesting, what did he use it for: to think of the answer or to start the deep-program? Then Unfortunate says hoarsely:

– I don't have a choice.

– Why not? Let's exit "Labyrinth". Have you ever been in "Three Piglets"? Or in "The Old Hacker"?

Unfortunate shakes his head.

– It's much more interesting there, – I say. We sit side by side, I hold BFG-9000 on my laps, ready to burn any enemy at any second. We'll definitely pass with such a gear. We can't fail. But I'm not in hurry for now, – Thank you by the way.

– For what?

– You covered me in that mirror hall.

Unfortunate takes off his respirator. I suddenly notice how strange his gestures are. Some rare softness and fluidness – as if every movement is a pleasure for him. Narcissistic actors act this way sometimes but unlike them Unfortunate doesn't irritate me.

– Does it require any thanks? – he asks with irony.

– Yes, – I reply, – Of course.

– Wouldn't you do the same?

– No, if I were you.

Pause. Looks like Unfortunate is surprised.

– Why?

– You're in trouble. It's you whom I must get out of "Labyrinth".

– It's not me who is in trouble, – Unfortunate shakes his head.

– Are you a diver? – I ask directly.

– No.

– Listen man, stop taking me in. You're in the deep for more than two days. You must be dying of thirst and hunger by now.

– Thirst is not the most terrible thing.

– So, what is more terrible?

– The silence.

– What?

– The silence, Gunslinger.

He looks into my eyes and I don't pull away my gaze, our faces are very close.

His eyes become alive, there's no more dull helplessness in them. The black deepness… the endless darkness as if I look into the sky where all stars came out simultaneously, into the maelstrom of darkness, the silent one that drags into itself, beyond the border of worlds.

– The Silence, – he whispers.

I can feel it, this Great Silence which he tries to tell me about and it's good he doesn't say a word now. Any words are helpless, they only scratch the layer of the Silence too weak to break through it and only hinder to comprehend it.

The Silence.

Whoever you are Unfortunate, you know more about it than anybody else in this world.

One more second – and I'll fall into the Silence, will understand Unfortunate.

I don't want to understand him!

– That's what I fear of… – he says and the delusion disappears. I just sit beside him, two drawn guys exchanging vague phrases.

Is it possible to get crazy in the Deep I wonder? Maybe I'll be the first?

– Why did you kill yourself? – I ask.

– When?

– Anatol pulled you through, you dropped your carbine and shoot yourself into forehead. Do you want to tell me that it was an accident?

– Accidents don't exist.

– Then why?

– Anatol won't be able to get me out.

– Why?! – I shout. The talk of two deaf people, answers that don't explain anything.

Unfortunate doesn't reply.

Ah well, so be it.

Enough riddles for me, I'll just get him out of here. He won't have any choice – not any except to leave the level.

– Get up! – I shout, grab Unfortunate by the shoulders forcing him to stand up, pull his pistol out of the holster, discharge it and throw away.

– Go! March!

He doesn't argue – geez, if he would even try to… I'll drag him out on my own shoulders if necessary.

He won't have any choice.

We pass the Disneyland, I shoot the monsters not sparing the ammo, I have more than enough for this level.

The rocket launcher gets red-hot of constant shooting, I burn my shoulder even through the armor. Nevermind.

We see the kid that flees from three quick demons on the car ride again. This time he's not black though but Latin-American. Gee, those American racial complexes… Unfortunate stops dead and we have to repeat the short duel with demons and the machine-gun spider. Then we move to the building the kid pointed at. This time Unfortunate holds him really tight and he can't break free. I enter the door instead of him. The hall is filled with half transparent shaking wineskin with teeth almost completely. Rockets pass through it without blowing up. I burn the beast using plasma gun, wasting two energy cells.

A couple is twitching in the next room, tied with a sticky cobweb: a man and a woman. They are guarded by a petty monster who even doesn't try to attack me but rushes to kill the prisoners instead. I shoot it with the carbine and free the kid's parents with Unfortunate's help. Further everything happens along the standard scenario: the tale of dreadful alien invasion, advises on passing the mirror labyrinth and the solemn gift: the plasma gun. Programs are primitive, they even don't notice that I already have this weapon. I yawn taking the gift. The rejoined family walks away. Everything is disgustingly vivid – the kid walks between his Mom and Dad, clinging to their hands… One should assume that they'll successfully get out of the Twilight City. I glance at Unfortunate – he's quite serious, as if he have really saved three lives.

We proceed towards the mirror labyrinth, I still don't give any weapon to Unfortunate. The least I need now is the trick with falling and shooting winchesters.

– Okay, – I command, – You will stop by the hall entrance. You will wait for me to call for you. Then we quietly come to the computers, and you get your ass home, outta here. Okay?

– Yes.

– Do you understand me? You won't do anything stupid, will you?

Unfortunate looks me in the eyes.

– Stupid – is to cover you?

– Yes! I'll sort everything out by myself and you will get out of here, understood?

– Understood.

Oh, I don't believe in his sincerity… but I have no other choice. We pass mirror corridors, I tap Unfortunate on the shoulder by the hall entrance. He stops obediently.

– Wait here. Wait for me and I'll be back, – I say. I make a step towards the entrance but can't help it and turn back to him.

– Look… whoever you are… I'm so tired.

Unfortunate nods.

– I'm sick of this insanity, – I go on, – Promise me that you won't jump out into the shooting. Promise me that you won't go anywhere. I want to get you out and to return home.

– I'll do everything as you say, – pronounces Unfortunate and I suddenly believe him.

– Thanks, – I whisper before storming into the hall.

And the fiery carousel starts.

The Alien Prince's Guards fire at me from thirteen balconies, I shoot back – point– blank. BFG-9000 burns three mirrors at once, the hall is filled with silvery smoke. Bullets drum against my armor knocking me down to the floor. I shoot while falling down, rotate quickly on my back as if in the forgotten dance of my youth – "break", then shoot three more times. Three mirrors, three mirrors, three mirrors…

The last reflecting edge, and now I see the real balcony with two monsters on it, washed over with green blood. My BFG have seriously damaged their scaly bodies while my armor is still fine, even if crumpled and red-hot, but still reliable.

The last shot – the fiery blast, the scratching sound of secondary discharges… Monsters scream dying, turning into whirls of black ash.

And the silence falls.

The mirror hall is burned to the ground and ruined, just the computer screen triumphantly glows in the midst of the mess.

– And the silence came… – I whisper rising on my knees. Thanks for the armor Anatol, many thanks… – Hey Unfortunate!

The quiet sound from the corridor – a hesitating step… and two short popping sounds – carbine shots.

I don't need any explanations.

And I don't need any comfort.

I drag myself towards the entrance, step over Unfortunate's bloody corpse and look into the reflective infinity of the corridor.

Alex is standing surrounded by his ghostly twins lowering his carbine. He has remains of the armor on him, the face covered in blood, the carbine's barrel points down at its reflection on the floor.

– I'm out of ammo, – he says.

I throw away BFG, pull the gun from behind my belt and push the barrel into Alex' forehead with such force that he shrinks back.

I even don't have anger anymore.

Alex waits for the shot silently.

– Sit down, – I say lowering my weapon, – Sit down, you bastard.

He sits down, I sit by him on the floor and the body of Unfortunate who was so unlucky again blindly stares at the ceiling.

– Why did you kill him?

– I… wanted to kill you, – says Alex, – I was after you. I feared to be late, I haven't noticed that he was unarmed.

– Okay, then why me?

Alex smirks.

– You shoot me down on the first level, have you forgot?

– No. And this is the only reason?

– But we had a deal to go together, hadn't we?

Oh Lord, why do you punish me?

– Do you want to say that you weren't going to shoot me yourself for the spare cartridge?

– I was considering that, – confesses Alex calmly, – But I had not decided yet. And you killed me.

At this point the laughter gets me, I fall on the floor, nudge my helmet into Unfortunate's leg, hit the floor with my hand.

– You freak! – I shout, – Dumbass!

Alex feels hurt for some reason.

– I had not shoot you! – he shouts, – But you had!

– Man, are you screwed! – I say, – Fucking avenger… unfinished Zorro… I'm diver! Do you understand? The guy whom you shoot down is for two days in the Deep already! His timer is off! He will croak if I don't get him out! And you, with your complexes… idiot, idiot…

– Diver? – Alex repeats dumbly.

– Diver! – I don't care about our eternal conspiration now, – I'd spit on this "Labyrinth" from the 40th floor! I'm trying to save the human – and you're playing war games, sucker! How old are you, kid?

Alex doesn't reply at once, but does anyway.

– Forty-two.

I get the next laughter attack.

Here it is, Piter Pan's kingdom, the island of eternal kids.

The war games' lover, entering his fifth decade.

There's no age in virtuality. Both a solid aged businessman and an immature youth who managed to get to the computer with modem at work – are equal.

Everyone has a right to run along drawn labyrinths remembering kids' rules of honor and shouting, "Not fair!".

Everyone can play noble heroes and brave knights forgetting that the life is much more complicated than ten Old Testament commandments.

– I'm really sorry, – says Alex, – I didn't know that you're doing such an important job…

Oh Lord, how funny… No, nothing serious, I've just dropped in here to pee.

– If I can help somehow… – says Alex in muffled voice, – …to pay for the time you've spent…

– You can't buy the time. – I reply. It would be really better if Alex was keeping to act like a young programmer… – The guy in whom you've stuck your fucking bullets is now dying somewhere of hunger and thirst!

– I'm really sorry, – Alex rises and pads to me. I look up at him, not even trying to stand up. – It's just that you were acting in non-ethical way. You had shot me without any obvious reason.

It's useless to talk to him…

– Maybe I was wrong, – his voice gains some strength, – But you should understand that your initial conduct was the reason for all that followed. Obviously, you're younger than me…

I look at the ceiling, at the dead bony Unfortunate's face.

– Though, you should understand like I do that we are in the unreal world, the one that doesn't exist, – pontificates Alex, – This is a dangerous illusion… people can easily lose their life's guiding points, their moral norms, they can submit to the feeling of complete license. Maybe my actions were not completely right but I always try to keep usual human categories. "Labyrinth" is a game but it embodies eternal ideals. Ideals of chivalry if you want, the fight of the good against the evil.

Yet another illusion fighter. Geez, how many of those do I remember – the people who tried to make the Deep the exact copy of the real world. The funniest thing that the most noisy one among them was sci-fi writer…

– You were acting not honestly from the very beginning, – says Alex, – and here… is the sad conclusion. You know diver, it was always like this. From the very world's creation. All the history is the living example!

– … And in the boiling cauldrons of past slaughters and troubles… – I whisper, – … there's so much food for those petty brains of ours…

Alex shuts up.

– Have you squared your accounts with me? – I ask, – Go ahead, tell me, have you? Or you also want to shoot me by yourself? Come on, do it!

I throw a pistol to him and outstretch my hands apart.

– I… didn't mean that… – mumbles Alex, – If you would just admit your being wrong, it would be quite enough…

– I admit it, – I say, pressing the rocket launcher's tube opening against my chest, – I admit it. I should had waited for you to shoot me. Now you're satisfied?

Alex retreats one step, waves his hands in protest. Obviously he's not satisfied with such an outcome, he haven't yet justified himself.

Abyss-abyss, I'm not yours…

The trigger is so hard, I barely managed to pull it.

Blood on the helmet's screens.

And complete silence inside me.

No, I haven't pulled the unfortunate player from the Deep, and haven't tried to outwit my unprincipled colleague. It's just how it IS.

The virtuality itself have risen against me.