Nothing happens for a second, then – I can't catch the moment of change
– Vika and Madam change places. Not Vika but Madam backs from the helplessly hanging body.
– That's it, – says Madam in her low voice.
– Why… in such a disgusting way? – I ask, – These hooks… this morgue… why? Vika?
Madam looks at Vika, nods sadly:
– Vika my dear, why? Should we explain to Lenia?
Vika, threaded on the hook by her nape stays silent.
– In order to never forget, Leonid. Not to forget for even a second – they are not alive.
I look at Madam, far more calm and wise than Vika, and if to approach it unbiased – much more beautiful.
– You had to see it, – says Madam.
– I have.
We exit the 'human meat warehouse' through the other door, the one that leads into Madam's room. This is a completely different world. There's a noisy and crowded beach behind the window, the hot sun in the sky, the room itself is full of luxurious old furniture, books are scattered everywhere along with opened candy boxes, clothes, cheap jewelry and golden bracelets, half-empty perfume bottles, playing cards. The huge bed under the plush canopy is uncovered, the slipper is lying under it. A variety of started bottles is in the sideboard, the dusty guitar hangs on the wall, Persian carpet on the floor is bitten by moth and is stained with wine in patches.
– Now you can try to guess which me is a real one, – says Madam.
I ain't going to. There's no other truth in the world except the one we want to believe in anyway.
We don't stay in Madam's room for long and I'm glad about that very much, it's too stiffly in there.
– Lenia, sometimes I tend to think that you're just a young boy, – says Madam, – one can't be so naive after all.
– Why not?
– It's too hard to live that way.
– Nobody had promised me it'll be easy.
I walk by Madam's side thinking about how could we look from the side. A pale and tall Gunslinger fits to be Madam's son in his age but there's no resemblance between them. Maybe it must look like a disguised aristocrat 's visit to the cheap brothel.
– Steep stairs here, – warns Madam.
– I remember.
We enter the recreation area and the girls under umbrellas greet Madam with cheerful squeals. The gay splashing in the water just by the shore quickly stands up and waves his hand. The tousled head of Computer Wiz pokes up from behind the bar and ducks back down quickly.
– You see, Vika is not here, – says Madam to me loudly, then protectively puts her hand on my shoulder, – Girls, Gunslinger will wait for his girlfriend here! Don't hurt him!
The general meaning of the answers summarizes to the idea that they'll hurt me for sure but I'll like that. Madam waves her finger at the girls, then goes to the bar. The Wiz appears at once, as if feeling her approaching.
– Talk to Gunslinger, – Madam asks him gently, – He has some questions… answer all of them.
– Absolutely all? – inquires Wiz.
– Absolutely.
– Well Madam, don't say later that I forced this out of you.
– I wish it was necessary… – sighs Madam.
I'm waiting for Wiz by the table which stands a little aside from the others, the girls don't need to hear our talk.
– Champaign! – declares Wiz, approaching me, – Hi Gunslinger! You're drinking champaign, right? I don't, it's too many bubbles in it, my stomach rumbles after that!
He moves in an odd manner, very smoothly as if being on asphalt. I glance at his feet, they don't touch the sand: the shabby slippers are on Wiz's feet, with tiny wings growing from their sides that hammer the air quickly.
– I'm drinking champaign with the girls only, – I refuse, – Do you have vodka over there?
– Everything is there! – Wiz plops the bottle of caustically violet colored liquor on the table and runs away with unclaimed Abrau-Durso. Just in a minute he returns in the same gliding manner with a bottle of Ursus vodka, a crystal pitcher filled with water and a package of Zuko.
– Here, mix that…
I never tried Ursus but it's a good vodka as they say. Hoping that subconsciousness will work out the taste for me, I pour in a cup. Wiz grabs the pitcher and mixes the beverage by himself using his own hand as a mixer.
We're in virtuality after all… mo germs here. I swallow the vodka in one shot and take a mouthful directly from the pitcher, then ask:
– Where did you get this cute footwear from?
– These slippers? Ah, made them myself today… was sick and tired of bogging in the sand. You like them? You see, in Deeptown it's possible to walk on the floor only. So I had to glue a piece of floor to the soles. It's no problems now: walk on air as long as you want, until tired!
Wiz laughs and makes several small steps, ascending almost to the table level, then crosses his legs, falls into the armchair, opens the liquor and drops to the bottle with a smacking sound.
– Superb thing! – he declares, – Sweet-sweet! Real Cura ao!
– Do you spend the whole day here?, – I inquire.
– Whole day? Ha! I exit this place to eat something, and pardon me, to visit bathroom!
– Madam says, all security here depends on you.
– Wrong word! Everything depends on me here.
– May a stranger enter here?
– And how could we earn the living if we wouldn't let them in?
– I'm not about that. Is it possible to penetrate into the brothel's service areas?
– Institution's! This is not a brothel, but Institution! No, it is not.
– Absolutely?
Wiz sighs and becomes more serious.
– Are you hacker or lamer?
– A 'newbie'.
– Okie, I see… The absolute security doesn't exist. The closer you're to the absolute reliability, the less comfortable you feel in virtuality. It's a quadratic dependence here – your ability to receive and to transmit data falls as the security level becomes higher. The most important thing is to find the optimal ratio between comfort and security. Our security system was created with the elements of artificial intelligence. When breaking attempts are detected, the warning is broadcasted, additional passwords are implemented, dummies are activated…
– Dummies?
– Autonomous mobile security programs, phagocytes. I call them dummies, they are all dumb. Why don't you drink?
I pour myself more.
– If an intensive attack happens, – Wiz goes on, – then the degree of security grows unlimited, up to the complete encapsulation of the Institution. Of course it never happened before, but it's meant to work this way.
– So you want to say that the security IS ideal after all?
Wiz hesitates, the vanity which he obviously has struggles with objectivity.
– No… If the big group of professionals would plan the break-in, they'll be able to enter before the defense starts to work in full volume. But who on the Earth would want to do that, huh?
I understand that it'd be stupid to expect any different answer. There's a sword for any shield.
– Thank you, Wiz.
– Ah, don't mention it! – he waves his hand, – Do you want to make your own security system? Drag it in here, I'll help. Or better yet, let's go to your place! – Wiz fires up, – I'll do everything myself, I'm so bored of sitting here!
I shake my head, he guessed wrong.
– I'm just interested in how it's handled here.
– Ah, you're the auditor? – starts Wiz, – Hushhh… I've got it, I'm quiet… Why haven't Madam told me immediately?
Who might audit the brothel I wonder? What for? Very interesting… but I don't dare to question Wiz any more.
– Okay, time to go… and Vika must have freed already. – I say. Wiz becomes solemn and serious instantly:
– You watch it, don't hurt her!, – he warns, – she is… a great girl, I'd kick anyone's ass for her.