A valley, unbelievably flat, burnt, four vehicles crawling across it…
Either clouds or just a sea of white down, crystal trees until the horizon, white-haired old man in the ground long chlamys looking after us un confusion, sounds of harps…
The purple and black whirl, low rumbling roar, sulphurous stench and steel sparkling in the dark…
Blue discharges pierce through us, every hair on the skin scratches and stings as if rooting into the body…
A green clearing with a small puppy running across it, crazed by enthusiasm and energy, yelping behind our backs.
Stop Warlock, stop already!
A stormy sea, the stars in gaps between the clouds, salty taste on the lips, a tiny yacht sliding down the wave, a boy naked down to his waist clinging to the cordage, harpoon in his hands….
A twilight, round hall, the walls built of screens, the seat looking like a throne…
This mirror doesn't break, pulls us inside itself – and throws out on the cold marble floor. No time to check the bones, I jump up raising the lash to strike.
But it looks like there's no obvious danger. The solid middle aged man is perched on the throne, dressed in something unbelievably luxurious and military type at the same time. His chest is covered with decorations. He doesn't seem to see us – all his attention is drawn towards the creature on the biggest screen. The creature looks like a huge red ant.
– We must join our efforts! – pontificates the man, – Together our races could…
I help Unfortunate to stand up. We fell into some game server, that's not bad.
– Humans have made their lying nature evident! – snaps the ant from the screen, – We will disperse the very memory of you like a dust in the wind!
The screen dims, the man presses his hands against his face and rocks from side to side.
– What is this? – asks Unfortunate.
– A game, – I explain looking around in a search for an exit. There is a door but it doesn't seem like it's possible to just open it. The room looks as a command bunker of some sort of a missile base, as it is shown in the movies. The austerity of the interior is only spoiled by a torn hole in the ceiling – some purple mist still flows down from it along with mirror splinters that fall from it and shatter into dust on the floor. "Warlock" still works, clung to several nearest servers.
– What is the game about?
– Star wars.
I pad to the man, the steps to the throne are made of crystaclass="underline" it's very slippery and damned uncomfortable.
– Hey, human race savior! – I tap the player on the shoulder.
The man straightens on the throne, the miser man's tears well in his eyes.
– Deneb! – he orders. The screen flashes, the officer appears on it, the number of his decorations close to our player's. – Colonel! Move the squadron to the Sol's orbit!
– But Emperor, our planet is defenseless…
– The main thing is to retain the cradle of the human race! – speaks the Emperor abruptly.
The colonel nods, suffer on his face:
– Your order will be fulfilled, Emperor!
I block 'Emperor's' view with my hand. Maybe he doesn't see us? But the man pushes my hand aside and mumbles:
– Interference… communication unreliable…
Oh Gosh! Just see how did I find some work for myself suddenly… Deep-psychosis at its height. The man just doesn't WANT to see us – this wouldn't fit into stereotypes of the simple strategic game he's so deep into.
– How to exit? – I shout, – Exit!
He outstretches his hand, pushes some button. He doesn't take us by consciousness, but unconsciously he's ready to do everything to get rid of 'interference'. His movements are limp and unsure: at least 24 hours in the Deep. The door rumbles behind my back, opening.
– What's the matter with him? – asks Unfortunate.
– Deep psychosis.
I turn back to the door, we must hurry: 'Warlock' must have left some traces, they will be detected sooner or later while the poor Emperor's timer is on most likely.
– Are we leaving? – asks Unfortunate.
Yes, I did break the Diver's Code when using weapon against Anatol and Dick but I'm diver anyway, the Deep's guardian. Who will do it if not me?
– Vika! – I command.
– Lenia? – the voice of Windows-Home is dull and muffled, the machine is overloaded and doesn't have any more strength for goodies.
– The standard set of gear.
Pause, a very long one – then the pockets start feeling heavy with load.
I rip off the remains of the overalls from me – was it tattered in the fall through mirrors? – and stay in the Gunslinger's costume, I wrap the lash carefully and it turns into a belt again.
– What are you gonna do? – Unfortunate is curiosity itself.
– Drag him out!
Now I need to intercept the comm channel that connects the player with his computer at home, then to break the security system, hardly it's too complicated – obviously the guy is a typical 'newbie'. Then I'll have to either run the exit deep-program or to just nullify the timer.
I take sunglasses from the left pocket and put them on, the darkness is almost complete, just one sparkling orange winding thread at the base of the throne can be seen. Here it is, his channel. I look around the room and see my own navel-string, scattered on the floor in rings and disappearing in the tunnel gnawed through by 'Warlock'. That's bad, it means we haven't connected to the player's server but entered from nobody knows where. My channel now may circle through the different continents, jump up through satellites, slide along fiber optics along the ocean floor… Too many spaces have we passed on our way from "Labyrinth"… and they are still near: I can see flashes of light in the tunnel, dimming pieces of threads fall from it from time to time.
And there's really no signal coming from Unfortunate, or there is but too well hidden for my simple scanner: just a dark silhouette watching me working.
There's a little metal box in my right pocket, I open it – a sparkling emerald beetle lies on the soft padding, moving his paws. I pick him up, he tries to break free aiming at my own channel. Oh no pal, not there…
I put the beetle at the throne base and step back. The beetle freezes for a moment quivering his head, then dives into the orange thread.
Now we'll wait and hope that there's only a standard antivirus set installed on the Emperor's computer.
– Who?
For a moment it seems to me that I hear Unfortunate's voice: just as smooth and unemotional, but when I turn around, it's four of us in the hall already… if to consider the 'Emperor' as a real events' participant. The glowing white thread is hanging from the tunnel, a long writhed figure on its end. Its contours are distorted, movements are jerky and erratic. The guy looks around but hardly can he see what's going on. Lord, from what distance have he fallen from, how could he survive the tunnel journey? Well done 'Warlock', nothing I can say…
– None of your business! – I growl as aggressively as I can. If the anonymous is just a common Net user he won't be able to hinder me. But the guest obviously doesn't like my reaction, he outstretches his hands and flexible glowing cord starts crawling towards me. Not to me to be exact but towards my channel.
Very funny. Nobody could make such situation on purpose – to drag I-don't-know– whom out, starting to rescue an idiot with deep-psychosis half-way, and on top of that all to bump into a hacker with a set of service programs.
At least good that his channel is extremely narrow, barely alive. I take and pull on 'gloves', grab the cord and tie it in a knot, then advise:
– Fuck off. I'm diver.
Usually this works instantly, but the guest either considers himself the coolest in the Deep or doesn't believe me.