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.