Survival Quest (The Way of the Shaman: Book #1) (32 page)

"All right, but that still doesn't explain how you connected me and the Shaman."

"Ah, yes. Aside from what I said, there's the main thing. Just think how this sounds: Shaman Mahan, who entered the hall of fame and prisoner Daniel Mahan, who's been through a Dungeon. You really think it's so hard to guess that you're him?"

I'm such a fool! My bad to start suspecting a good guy like that of anything.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think properly. You mentioned hints: is there some way for me to get access to them? After all, I've left the mine now and will be living in the main gameworld, where you're totally lost without the manuals."

"You may as well ask for access to the forums," laughed Roberts. "Of all the documentation, prisoners only have access to the legislative statutes. Although..."

I missed a heartbeat as I waited for the decision. If Roberts helped me, the game would immediately become considerably easier.

"If you're brought a new capsule model, it contains access to manuals and the internal game forums by default. It's just that for prisoners, it's disabled with a jammer. And it's not a program, but a small nib in the capsule hull... It might even get knocked out during transport..." said Roberts, staring into space, but then snapped out of it and went on: "I owe you a thank you, by the way, for helping me to spend time with my grandson!"

I gave Roberts a look of surprise. What's he on about?

"When you fouled up that lake, my children remembered that their old man lived out of town. They came to visit straight away, although I've been inviting them with little success for three years before that - asking them to bring the kid and let him run around in the grass. They're making him all high-tech - he even goes to the bathroom with a handheld and he's just four! He should be playing with blocks and soldiers, but he's chattering about image manipulation. They're really spoiling the kid! Well, never mind, I've lost track of time with you here. You need to go rest," said Roberts, getting up from the chair. I wrapped myself in the blanket, got comfortable and closed my eyes, unexpectedly and immediately dropping into sleep.

"Where is he?" someone's worried voice woke me up.

"He's asleep, where else would he be? He's spent three months in the capsule, so he's catching up on his sleep after all that time," Roberts's voice replied.

"What do you mean 'catching up on his sleep'?"

"Ah, it seems you don't know this. The in-game sleep doesn't provide adequate psychological relaxation, so every three months prisoners are disconnected and allowed to have normal sleep. Ten hours of sleep is just enough for the next three months. As far as the subject himself is concerned, he just suddenly wakes up the next day in the game."

"So what's with this one, then?"

"That's not our problem. For some reason his capsule got disconnected from the game and the automated systems transported him to the rehabilitation centre and even broke the lid during transportation, dammit. So we're waiting for a new capsule and installation technician. Then we'll put the prisoner back in and..."

I didn't hear the rest. My eyes closed and I was once again in the kingdom of Morpheus.

"Get up," I was once again brought back to reality. For a few moments I had to fight to open my eyes. It was so good to just get some sleep, without hurrying anywhere or thinking about handing in the daily quota. Beautiful! I looked around the room with sleepy eyes and then focused on the people standing next to me. Bah! I knew one of them! That's the technician who put me in the capsule. He was the one cracking jokes at the time: 'in you jump', and all that. Now I could have a better look at him - despite an ordinary face that you could come across anywhere, his appearance made me smile. First of all, the unbuttoned lab coat had a sweater underneath. In the three months of my imprisonment little had changed in the world of fashion - this sweater was very expensive and very popular among the progressive youth. It could be worn at minus forty as well as plus thirty degrees, as the internal temperature control system ensured comfort within that range. The sweater could change color and texture at the owner's whim, and could even feel different - from smooth to fluffy. Aside from the sweater, Peter (as his electronic ID told me) wore classic trousers. The trousers were thoroughly ironed with creases and tucked into old, dirty and worn army boots. If each thing looked normal by itself, together they created an unforgettable image. Knowing modern technicians, perpetually bearded, in ordinary sweaters, work trousers and boots like these, I concluded that Peter had made a considerable effort to dress up. At least, on top. But he had never got around to the bottom half, or had just forgotten about it in the process. The fact that he was getting ready for something could be seen from his fairly good haircut, which must have been done in a salon several days ago. Why several days? Because the two- or three-day-old stubble completed the image of a technician getting ready for a date of some sort. Despite his somewhat comical look, you could guess that something unpleasant had happened to Peter. The vacant stare, frozen facial expression and the fact that he bumped into every available corner as he left the room, all pointed to that. I even became curious about what had happened to him.

Surrounded by the police, I entered the room where the technicians were already preparing the capsule for me. So my unexpected odyssey into freedom had come to an end. The policemen sat themselves on the chairs by the entrance and I headed for the capsule.

"Ah, you're here already," said Peter absent-mindedly, when I stood myself nearby and coughed quietly. "Take off your capsule and get into the clothes."

It looked like something really did happen to this guy. How could they send him to work in a condition like that? Unless I was mistaken, every morning all the technical personnel underwent express-examination, and, depending on its results, were issued the permission to work. The Corporation didn't keep any 'zombies', that is employees who'd play all night and then come to work to catch up on their sleep. By the looks of it in his current condition he'll end up calibrating my capsule so 'well' that I'll end up inside some goblin's body. I looked questioningly at his partner.

"Take no notice," was the reply to my silent question. "It's just our Petruccio's been through some tough times. His girl dumped him about an hour ago. Just before we came here. Yes, Petruccio? You want me to toss you that spanner? And pass me that thing as well please."

I see. So if one guy was struck by misfortune, the other would be making fun of it. What a 'wonderful' partner to get stuck with. 

"Peter, is everything all right with you? You're not looking too well. What if you make a mess of the settings and I end up 'enjoying' it for the next eight years."

"Yes. No. It's all right. Yes. Everything is fine," he said, somewhat absent-mindedly. He then swore quietly, reset the settings and started again.

"Peter! Just look at you - you better leave off all this playing around with the settings!"

"Leave... Leave! Leaving!!!! I've had it with everyone!" shouted Peter. "I don't leave people, they leave me! I've been going out with a girl for three months and thought she liked me. I thought she was interested in my work, because she asked about it from time to time, When I told her that I'll be putting the 'waste collector killer' himself into the capsule, she even asked me to give you a present - to let you choose your own name. And then what? Today, when I was called out here, I looked at the prisoner information and then called her, because I thought it would make her happy to know that the prisoner to whom she made the gift of the name was about to enter the main gameworld. I thought I'd make her happy... When she heard this news about you, she said that it was all over between us. Why? What did I do wrong? Can you tell me?"

I looked at the technician in surprise, getting myself more comfortable in the capsule. So then, the ability to choose my name wasn't the choice of the technician, but the idea of some flighty girl. Flighty?

"What was her name?" I thought to continue the conversation, but Peter silently turned and walked away from the capsule. Yeah, poor guy. I know for myself: when you get dumped, you can even lose interest in life. And he's got a crappy work partner as well.

"Marina," his partner replied for him. "Personally, my feeling is that she left him because of you. Of course that's none of my business, but I've been trying to get Petruccio back to normal for the best part of an hour now. He even thought to jump under a car once he finished talking to her. When we get back I'll take him to a psychologist; he's my partner after all - we've worked together for some years now. But I have a strong hunch that you've had a hand in this. She even asked for you to be given the chance to choose your own name and then left Pete as soon as she heard about you. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Dammit! Was it really the same girl?

"You don't happen to have her picture on you? I know a certain Marina, who's very similar to this one in the way she does things. She also ditched me just before I went to prison."

The technician turned the screen of his communicator and I saw Peter embracing a rather attractive girl. The same one whose wager got me stuck in Barliona for eight years.

"No, that's not the one," I spoke in neutral tones, trying not to betray the agitation that engulfed me. "She's pretty. Maybe you should tell Peter to fight for her? What if something happened to her: a bad mood or she got up on the wrong side of the bed? You never know with women."

"That's what I intend to do. On our way back I'll try to talk some sense into him and snap him out of it. That he's started screaming is already a good sign - if he's visibly taken offence it means he's coming back to normal! Well, good luck to you, man," said Peter's partner, put the last pipe in place and closed the lid. There was a flash of light and I was back in Barliona.

I opened my eyes and found myself inside a room. I had a quick glance at my stats, my bag and my character - everything was still there. I held my breath as I went into the settings and selected the forum. Before it was inaccessible, but now...

Welcome to the in-game forum of Barliona. Please read the rules...

Thank you Roberts! A big heartfelt thanks!

The room contained a small table and two chairs. 'One is probably for me', I thought and tried to get myself comfortable in it. If I'm correct about the sequence of events, now I would be meeting the committee for parole from the mine; they'll read me the riot act and decide what settlement to send me to.

Right, while no-one's here I could do some thinking. So it appeared that Marina was looking for me. But what for? To pay her debt and become my girl for a month? Yeah, right, that's really 'essential' in the virtual world. Barliona had firm restrictions on physical sexual contact between players. You could not even completely strip yourself: loin cloths, as well as chest wraps for women, could never come off. The only exception for this were special Tolerance Houses, located in each large city. Local brothels. In these a player could do anything his perverted mind wished - only imitators worked in these houses. But if two players voluntarily entered such a house, they could have contact with each other. Truth be told, I've been to such places myself a few times, especially when I started to play. Elf maids, dwarven lasses, worgen ladies and orc women... Everything exotic! According to official statistics, in Barliona the brothels were the second most popular destinations, after the Dungeons. The figures, however, didn't specify that the comparison was made between only one Tolerance House and all of the region's Dungeons.

And, as always, there was a 'BUT'. I had no idea whom Marina was playing. Perhaps she's a hardcore player and had chosen an unusual race for herself - kobold, lizardfolk, goblin or something else even more extreme. In Barliona, aside from just playing, you could make it a goal to prove yourself a good player. For this purpose unique races were introduced, with deadly racial bonuses, aggressive mobs in starting locations or negative reputation with almost all the factions. Just so you could prove that you could play such a character. When a player decided to test his strength that way, the old character didn't even get deleted, but simply disabled. If the attempt was unsuccessful, the player could have his old character back. What if Marina was a kobold? I don't think I'd... dare to go with something like that into a brothel. Although I would like to meet and have a proper chat: I don't like girls who get what they want by selling their body. Why did she treat Peter like that? He seemed an all right guy. If we meet, I'll tell her exactly what I think about all this.

My thoughts were cut off by a portal that appeared in the room, from which an energetic young man of about twenty emerged, with a sharp professional look about him: in a suit and tie and a neat haircut.

"Good day, Daniel, let me introduce myself: I'm Alexis, the junior assistant of the parole secretary, and here to read you the minutes of the meeting of the committee on your parole," he fired off. "Thus, under article 78 section 24 of the Penal Code, you have the right to be relocated to the main gameworld. Because you were in prison less than half a year, your place of settlement will be chosen at random. To determine the place of your settlement you must return to your mine, where the destination will be chosen. The incident with your going back to the real world has been examined, it has been noted that you have conducted yourself in a correct manner, and a decision has been made that no punishments will be imposed upon you.