Great, one more mean of death is found.
– Hey! – I shout, approaching him, – It's me!
Unfortunate raises his head, maybe it's a good sign.
– Bored?
I sit down by his side and Unfortunate takes off his respirator himself, looks at me tiredly and hopelessly.
– Are you a human or a program? – I ask directly. Unfortunate shakes his head: go ahead and understand the negation the way you want…
– Do you know that you've got the nick 'Unfortunate'? – I say, – But you know man, even biblical Iov was more lucky than you! Your bad luck is something really unique!
Finally he replies:
– This is not only my… bad luck.
– Do you want to say you were rescued bad?
I'm talkative and bucked up like after a good drink, I need to stir up Unfortunate a little and, as stupid as it might sound, I need to become sure that he's not a program.
– I was rescued well. It's that just nobody could cross the border.
– What border?
– Of consciousness.
Unfortunate is patient in his explanations, but so what? They don't clarify anything.
– Let's go away from under this shit, – I nod at the rocking cab, – We have very little time.
– You won't be able to anyway… – whispers Unfortunate but stands up submissively and moves aside.
– We'll see, we'll see…
I'm waiting for I don't know what… for the action promised by Urman, for the level's shutdown?
– Unfortunate… may I call you that? Do you like poetry?
Silence.
The program might imitate the talk, making answers from my own words, but no program can create anything by itself.
– "My uncle's a man of honest rules", – I recite, – Go on! Huh? Unfortunate?
He looks back at me with such an irony that I feel uncomfortable:
– "… When seriously fallen ill…" Say Gunslinger, do all Russian divers know only Pushkin by heart?
– Anatol'?
– Yes. He "remembered the wonderful moment".
I could just laugh at my own stupidity, at all those clich s hammered into mind. Instead I ask, feeling as something breaks inside, either the notorious 'border' or just a common sense:
– Well, what did Dick read you? Shakespeare?
– Carroll, – the answer comes from behind.
Dick stands close, Anatol in some 5 meters away, with BFG at the ready.
– Just as you, I sat by his side, – says Dick, – I sat down…
He sits facing indifferent Unfortunate and says: { in English here } Twas brilling, and the skithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
I wait in fascination, and Unfortunate goes on:
All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
From the huge distance I hear Windows-Home squeaking in warning and whispering:
– Impossible to translate! It doesn't present in the main dictionary! Impossible to translate!
Dick looks up at me and asks:
– So Unfortunate is Russian according to your opinion?
Didn't Urman ask the same question?
– Who are you? – I ask Unfortunate. He smiles and rises, – Who the hell are you?! – I shout.
On vstal pod derevo i zhdet I vdrug graahnul grom…
– says Unfortunate.
Anatol laughs and goes on:
Letit uzhasnyj Barmaglot I pylkaet ognem!
{ a part of one of Russian translations } A real psycho clinic, and I'm the dumbest patient in here.
– Get out diver, – orders Dick, – The rescue games are over, everything is much more serious than you might think.
As if in confirmation of his words, a thick mechanic siren roar sounds, so strong that my ears start aching. Then the silence falls, only alarmed monsters boo, scream and chirp. A female voice falls from the sky, covering all sounds:
– Attention! Vnimanie! To everybody located on the 33rd level of "Labyrinth of Death"! You must leave the game area immediately! This is an official warning! You have 30 seconds to exit the game area! You may use your weapons to commit suicide and to return to the "Labyrinth"'s column hall. All necessary explanations will be provided, reimbursements will be paid. Attention! To everybody…
– Do you need help? – asks Anatol aiming his BFG at me, – Or maybe you'll do it yourself?
– You'll hurt Unfortunate too, – I say and Anatol nods, throws BFG aside and takes the rocket launcher instead.
But right at this moment I tear out the leather Gunslinger's belt from under my overalls. It's just an ordinary belt – as long as it stays on my body.
Once in my hand, the leather strip shrinks with a boom, stretches in length, enveloping itself into blueish sparks. Maniac have made Warlock-9000 in a form of lash. One stroke – and the lash outstretches, greedily trying to break free from my hand, the end of it strikes against Anatol's armor.
The blue fiery stream flows along the lash, sucking into Anatol's body. This is a real battle weapon, for it there's no difference between the armor or bare flesh. The diver disappears in the swirl of purple flames, falls through the ground. The whirlpool doesn't calm down though. The fiery crater buzzes, slowly becoming wider.
– You! – shouts Dick, – You've smuggled the virus!
Our faces are colored by the blue glow, Unfortunate looks at the growing twister in enchantment. I just nod, the words are unnecessary.
– Fifteen seconds… – says the voice from the sky.
– You've hit Anatol! You've broke the Diver's Code! – Dick doesn't attempt to take the weapon and I'm glad he doesn't: I don't want to kill him.
– Everything is much more serious, – I repeat his own words.
The new sound comes – the sound of breaking glass, crashing walls, squeaking of the metal being crumpled.
The silvery ring falls down from the purple clouds, the darkness following it, as if the giant glass is covering the 33rd level. I would think that this is how the level's encapsulation looks like if there wasn't terror and confusion on Dick's face.
Al-Kabar have entered the game.
But Dick blames me in everything, he tears the carbine from his shoulder – and I react without thinking. The lash hits his neck, beheading him with enthusiasm of unemployed butcher.
One-two! One-two! The grass ablaze!
Vzee-vzee… the grazing sword…
– says Unfortunate.
I grab him by the shoulders and push towards the fiery crater. The new twister grows where Crazy Tosser was behind our backs.
– Why? – asks Unfortunate.
We must hurry up. Now, when "Labyrinth"'s and Al-Kabar's hackers fight over the 33rd level it's a high time to flee. Warlock is not only the killer, it's also a tunnel drilled through the Deep.
– In order to return! – I shout pushing Unfortunate into the blue flame and jumping after him.
The fire.
We are falling.
The spiral of blue fire is a tunnel wall, the violet mist is its flesh.
The foggy mirrors appear under our feet, we break them as we fall, the faces in the mirrors are like shadows, the spaces like pale watercolors.
Ruined railway station of the first level… the hospital of the 21st… the Cathedral of the 50th! I even can see the grinned muzzle of the Alien Prince, a fiery blink from his on-shoulder rocket launcher – but we have flown by already.
Deeptown street – faces of passers-by, the hood of a taxi, the ad "Only after you work for…"
The bookstore – the rainbow of covers, the girl in glasses looking through the magazine, rustling of pages like thunder in my ears, the guy at the cash register…
Blue lightings crawl along my arms.
Unfortunate in the cloud of greenish fire.
A supermarket – an orange jam jar blinks past my eyes – empty.
A pet shop – a white bunny in the cage.
Are there hallucinations in the Deep I wonder?
"Warlock" must calm down, the counter of passed spaces is built into it but Maniac didn't promise that it'll work properly. He didn't have a chance to test the virus.