So this is how levels are constructed. Or rather their skeleton which then will live its own electronic life, inhabited by monsters and players. It will excite imagination of "Labyrinth"'s habitues for several months then it'll be changed.
– Are you Gunslinger?
The girl approaches me quietly and unnoticed, she's blonde and cute.
– Yes.
– Let's go, Mr. Aguirre is waiting for you.
I follow her. In general I know what they'll tell me now but why not to spend several minutes on formalities?
Guillermo stands by the window into "Labyrinth", the dark silhouette against the blood-red blaze. Everything is well thought through in the triangular shaped room – the office's owner seems small and lost against the window but draws attention at the same time. The visitor is on the crest of the pyramid and feels himself important involuntarily… and uncomfortable.
– Oh, Gunslinger! – Guillermo moves to meet me in energetic pace, – Sit down, sit down…
– You cancel the contract? – I ask directly.
Guillermo stops and rubs his nose bridge.
– Mmmm… yeah… Have you talked to Anatol, Gunslinger?
– I have.
As if he didn't controlled our talk…
– Gunslinger, you agree with our divers' opinion, no?
– No.
– Why?
– Will it change anything anyway? – I ask in return. – You have already decided to give up with the rescue.
– I didn't decide. – says Guillermo, slightly accenting on "I".
– But you cancel the contract anyway?
Guillermo sighs.
– We appreciate your attempts to help… very appreciate.
His speech becomes noticeably incorrect and I understand: Guillermo doesn't use interpreter program, he knows Russian, and knows it damn well. It's pleasant to know but I'm not surprised: Russians make a considerable part of the players, maybe because our famous native lack of system is still alive… and many companies pay for their employees' fun instead of for their work in the Deep.
– … But there is an opinion that now we encounter the action of hostile diver. Proceeding with rescue means supporting his plans. Right?
I nod. There's no confidence in Guillermo's voice but I have nothing to oppose to "Labyrinth"'s divers' words either.
Yet.
It's useless to argue.
– The company will pay you a bonus, – says Guillermo, – We even can argue about the amount… a little.
He smiles friendly and a bit slyly.
– The amount is up to you., – I say.
Guillermo looks at me intently then sits by his table and draws the check. The gold plated Parker in his hand, the checkbook was issued by Chase Manhattan. The amount doesn't strike me as much as it could happen before Al-Kabar operation but it commands respect nevertheless.
– Thank you, – says Guillermo solemnly, handing the check over to me. It's nothing more than just a formality, the money have already been transferred to my secret account given in the contract but anyway it's pleasant to hold the nonexistent check in my hand.
I nod and shake Guillermo's hand. That's it, I can get out. The little boy was given a candy and kicked out of the adults' company which plays serious games.
– For the good parting? – Mr Aguirre gets the bottle from under the table, the real French Armagnac. It doesn't cost much more than Coke in virtuality but the gesture itself is pleasant, as if Aguirre has no doubt that the taste of this drink is familiar to me.
We touch glasses and I make a small sip. I'm not a big lover of cognacs and brandy but it's flattering to be considered a connoisseur of noble drinks for a minute anyway.
– I can guess how you will spend this money, – says Guillermo suddenly.
– Well, how?
– They'll return to the "Labyrinth"'s account, – Guillermo smirks.
– Nope.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
– You will give up? Yes?
– I'll rescue Unfortunate but I have enough money for this. As for this check… I'll return it. In order for you to change the amount.
Guillermo nods, he was expecting my insistence and is quite satisfied with the promise.
– Good luck, diver.
– If something unexpected happens in "Labyrinth"… could you please notify me? – I inquire, – Unofficially?
– Your address, – says Guillermo in business-like manner.
I give him my business card with the Net address, it's not my real 'coordinates', just a mailbox where I can get the letter for Gunslinger after supplying the password.
– Do you want me to call the taxi? – asks Mr Aguirre at parting.
– Thanks Willy, it's not necessary.
I stop the Deep-Transit's cab a couple of blocks away. Not that I was afraid of shadowing but it's better not to change good habits.
– Al-Kabar block, – I order. This time the driver is a nice red haired woman with tiny wrinkles around her eyes, excellently made face.
– This address doesn't exist, – she disappoints me.
– Al-Kabar. 8-7-7-3-8.
– Acknowledged.
The car starts, streets flash by. I ask Vika to change the masculine look of Gunslinger to the ingenuous mug of Ivan The Prince. One second – and the white-clad hero is reflecting in the rear-view mirror.
Pictures, just pictures and nothing more. Now Deep-Transit's programs toss my comm channel from server to server, preparing to connect me to Al-Kabar – to bring me to the horsehair bridge with the genie guard. Nothing more than pictures. The Deep can't have its own intellect!
But despite anything, I don't feel myself so confident in my own thoughts.
1
The desert meets me with its hot breath and the genie – with deafening roar:
– You dared to come back, the thief of thieves?
Good program… with memory.
The genie tears his legs from the sand, makes one step, then another. The hair bridge stretches and rings slightly but does not tear yet. Something new – Al-Kabar's programmers have added mobility to the guard program!
– Stop! – I shout raising my hand, – I came to Friedrich Urman! I'm not in your mercy!
The giant fist quivers above my head, sparks scratching between the fingers.
– Unfamiliar virus detected! – whispers Windows-Home in alarm, – Attention! I turn the "Web" on!
The space covers with slight mist, the antivirus program "Web" starts to cut off a part of incoming information trying to guard the computer from the virus. Not an ideal defense, a good virus will slip into my computer anyway but I don't stop Vika – she's in panic… if this word is appropriate here. The genie's shape flows and becomes blurry.
– Who are you? – roars the monster, its voice is distorted too.
– Diver! – I shout having nothing to hide this time.
– Wait! – orders the genie. Sparks on his palms go off and Vika stops the "Web".
Nothing else to do and I wait. The monster is motionless, just its eyes sparkle examining me with a strong, almost physically felt gaze. It was just a joke last time – I was let into the mousetrap because they were sure I won't be able to escape. Now, having their butts kicked, corporate programmers are able to cast all creations of their fantasy on my head and I'm sure that among them is a lot of those that might terrify not only me, not only Maniac but even the old guy Lozinsky himself. It's a perfect time to remember tales about viruses that destroy the hardware…