Wiz sighs and looks at the sea dreamily.
– I have just wanted to score her but you were the first… – he confesses, – You know, she had a great crush on me… or maybe even still has… but don't worry, I never take girls from my friends.
Some time ago I thought that the soap opera computer guys are completely fictional characters. Hah! If it just was really so. They do really exist.
– But don't you even think to approach that blondie! – he adds, – She's so desperately in love with me, she suffers that for almost half a year…
The poor girl laughs aloud hugging her friend, not suspecting about her ill fortune.
– Or maybe I'd go after Natashka… – thinks Wiz, – they're all such lovable types here!
He picks up his liquor and moves towards the laughing blonde in a dancing walk, while I use the moment to get out.
101
I must have done a couple more turns on the spiral stairs than necessary and descend into the lobby. The recent visitors are not here anymore, they must be enjoying the life's pleasures already.
Just one guy stands by the table browsing through the black album, short and stooping, with a face like of a famished marmot, with long strands of hair breaking loose from under the cap that's hung low above his eyes. I almost pass him going to the door into the service area when I get it. In the meanwhile the guy had put the album back and started to move towards the door.
– Hey, Cap! – I call him.
He stops and turns around slowly, his eyes are empty and as cheerful as the ones of the boiled fish.
– You're Cap, – I repeat.
No reaction whatsoever, the guy goggles at me absolutely blankly.
– I don't like you! – I say with a sudden joy, – Do you hear me? I don't like you at all!
– 'Haha' three times, – replies Cap averting his pale gaze and turns to the door again. He doesn't have any curiosity at all. He's a compatriot at least.
– Stop! – I shout into his back and he stops, waiting indifferently, – You shouldn't return here anymore, – I say.
Cap smirks – the first emotion on his face, but it looks so mechanic as if I'm talking to a program instead of an alive person.
– What do you want here?
Looks like it's the question that he's ready to answer.
– Some collective psychology research.
– Conduct it elsewhere.
His pale eyes examine me from feet to the head.
– Do you work here?
– No.
– You're mutant then.
I feel myself lost after such a weird characteristic and Cap explains:
– The loss of social and ethical orientation. Personality decomposition. What an inevitable and disgusting metamorphosis.
Already opening the door, he adds:
– Boring…
…Vika's voice reaches me by the exit:
– Leonid, wait! Don't!
It's quite difficult to get back to my senses. I realize that my right hand clings to the belt and the left one squeezed in a fist. I look at Vika feeling how my fury slowly fades.
– Was it Cap? – I define just in case.
– Yes.
– I think I'm starting to understand your reaction.
– Have you cooled down already? – inquires Vika, – Good boy. Let's go.
I'm already feeling uncomfortable of my recent outbreak. Strange, I never thought it's so easy to start me, by in general quite meaningless words.
– Who is he, Vika?
She feels that she'll have to answer this question.
– Nothing special. Just a person who thinks he has a right to judge everyone around.
– Virtual prostitutes for instance?
– Not only. I know a couple more places where Cap conducts his experiments.
– He said something about psychology…
These words amuse Vika for some reason:
– The person that is unable to be creative always tries to justify his destructive behavior. Very often this is done in a form of aloof watching of the world's imperfections, especially ones such as our brothel…
We enter the door from which the black kitten is smiling, and Vika goes on:
– Psychology is a very simple science according to the general opinion. People aren't able to hammer the nail in by themselves or to rhyme at least a couple of lines never doubt in their ability to understand – and to judge others. In extreme cases it becomes the essence of their lives and the source of self-confidence.
– Who are you, Vika?
– A psychologist. PhD, if you want to know.
She sits down, sweeps the gravel from the table. The room obviously needs cleaning after the earthquake. Since there's no second chair here, I just squat nearby.
– And your Thesis' subject is?…
– "Abnormal behavioral reactions' sublimation in the virtual space environment".
As if in apology, she adds:
– It's common to formulate this way.
I see…
– You're studying those like Cap? – I ask, – The real hunter for the fake ones?
– No, and for a long time by now, Lenia. It was interesting to study for half a year or more. But now – all they are similar, that Cap and others alike. All pathologies are the same and if you know one psychopath, you can guess the behavior of thousand of them.
– Then why?..
– Because they exist. The destruction that comes out of them can hurt just a couple of people here. In the real world they'll leave a trace of broken lives, poisoned love, ridiculed friendship after them. Maybe even blood. But here they are harmless, all their arrogance, animal reactions and self-conceit is just a dust, dust on the wind.
– But it's hard for you here!
– So what? It's not real me who is hurt but a drawn one.
– Vika…
– I beg you – don't meddle in the Institution's business. Otherwise Madam will cancel your access.
She smiles and I feel confused.
– Okay, I'll not meddle in the Institution's business inside it.
– What about outside?
– This is a matter of my personal freedom.
Vika parts her hands.
– Leonid, how old are you?
– What about exchange? – I ask quickly, – Information for information?
Nobody does advertise their biographical data in virtuality but Vika doesn't have any idea how much am I not used to it.
– Okay Leonid. I'm 29.
Before I answer, I have time to rejoice.
– 34.
– I'd never think that, I'd give you just a little more than twenty.
It's not necessary to mention that my fears were quite opposite.
– Virtuality is deceitful.
– No, virtuality is like an ice, we freeze into it once and forever. It's impossible to take off our first mask. We can invent hundreds of bodies afterwards, but that, very first one will be evident always.
– Madam was your first mask?
Vika picks the purse from the table, takes the cigarette from it and lights it.
– Yes Lenia. We had got a grant for the research of human sexual behavior in virtuality, the Westerners were a little crazy about that… at least one third of all information in the Net was tied to sex somehow. So I've invented this personality – a brothel owner, self confident, experienced, the one who saw everything in this life.
– You were successful, – I admit.
Vika exhales the smoke and asks with a slight irony:
– Maybe I'm really like that deep inside, how do you know?
– I don't care.
I'm lying of course but Vika doesn't argue.
– Did Zuko reassure you?
– Almost.
– He's a good specialist. You can confidently bring your friend here.
I look at the watch, there's still some time left.
– It's not that easy, Vika. It's very important to guess right and come to fetch him in time.
– You hackers are funny folks, – says Vika. How interesting. Geez! I was considered a cool programmer.
– Will you allow me to sleep here for a while?
– What?
– To sleep. I'm in the Deep for almost 24 hours while it'd be better to work with a 'fresh' head.
Vika – how wonderful – approaches this business-like.