––––––––

I quit the game like a scalded cat. My brother's cell phone was out of range. I paced my temporary dwelling until I’d calmed down a little. Never mind. A shower first. Then I’d have to try Dmitry's number again.

As I stood under the shower's cooling jets, I kept humming an old song from a Russian fantasy movie. Magic ring, magic ring, take this man, bind him tight...tie his legs, chain his feet... Oh. I was definitely getting old. The way I was shaking you'd think I'd found Tolkien's Ring of Power.

Gradually I felt better. The day in the mine had taken its toll. This kind of job could finish you off, no problem. The game developers preferred to hide behind complex terminology, hiring high-brow professors to brainwash gullible TV viewers into buying the “Mirror World phenomenon” story. Just the other day I'd seen two such learned members on YouTube having an altercation as one of them insisted that Mirror World's creators had somehow managed to penetrate the players' brains to create a copy of the so-called virtual world. The other foamed at the mouth trying to assure the audience that this was due to the discovery of a time portal into another dimension. What a circus.

I always wanted to know why the powers that be considered all common people a bunch of brain-dead idiots. If one kept his mouth shut while watching a show like that, it didn't mean he or she believed it. It was just something in our nation's genes—the aftershock of several generations of Russians fighting and dying in several murderous continental wars. Our fathers and grandfathers had only one argument to counter the Soviet authorities' tyranny with: Please, not another war. We'd been raised with this phrase, passing it down to our own children and grandchildren. Please not another war, the rest we can manage; we'll grin and bear whatever it is—we're a nation of survivors, after all.

So now, watching Mirror World developers' attempt to sugar-coat the truth, I realized that no one would ever discover the real story. The program made me understand one thing, though: apparently, whatever happened in the virtual world directly affected the state of our physical bodies. All this uncertainty, this ambiguity and lack of information worried me. Still, I had my own story. I needed the money.

As I rubbed myself red with the towel, I kept thinking about everything that had just happened. Having said that, what had happened? Nothing really. I hadn't bought the dodgy ring. Too risky. I hadn't had the heart. This ring was bad news. Magic ring, magic ring, take this man, bind him tight... Oh well. Any other gamer would have snatched it even without thinking. A goodie like that?—sure! Wasn't it what gamers called things like this: a goodie?

But I wasn't a gamer, was I? Not by any stretch of the imagination. The shock of the Devious Routes skill disappearing had been too much for me. Constantly feeling that someone was playing with you like a cat with a mouse was beginning to take its toll. It made you nervous. And it's common knowledge that a nervous person starts making mistakes.

Enough. I had to calm down. Sveta was already waiting for my call. My voice had to be calm and cheerful. Otherwise she was bound to smell a rat. She had a knack of sensing these things.

* * *

I AWOKE IN THE MORNING feeling broken. I'd had all sorts of sick dreams the whole night.

I dialed my brother's number. Same story. True, he'd said that he'd be out of town for a couple of days but he hadn't told me he was going to switch off the phone.

Never mind. I had a big breakfast, called my wife, tried Dmitry again, then headed off to work.

Mirror World greeted me with a pleasant surprise. The in-box icon blinked with new messages. Was it reporting my future profits? It was indeed. Everything I'd put up for auction had sold. On top of that, the runic items had gone for almost twice the price. All in all, I was two hundred ten gold and some small silver change richer.

I grinned. No need to buy second-hand gear now: I could comfortably afford new items.

Rrhorgus wasn't in that morning. A young Dwand served customers instead. He bore a fleeting resemblance to my friend.

Finally, I faced the vendor. He grinned politely,

“Hi, Olgerd, how are you today? How can I help you?”

I still couldn't get used to the fact that my name was literally written over my head. “Where's Rrhorgus?”

“Dad's taken a day off. I'm filling in for him. He told me you'd be coming.”

“I see... er... Max. I meant to...”

“You've come to buy the Hardy Digger kit, haven't you?”

“Yeah. Plus a level-appropriate bag and belt.”

“Let's start with them then, shall we? This is a Capacious Backpack for 70 slots. Durability 50 pt. Next... a Stitched Leather Belt—fifteen pockets, durability 50. Plus a complete Hardy Digger kit. Would you like something else?”

“That's it,” I said.”

“That'll be fifty-four gold.”

“Here.”

“I suggest you auction off your old belt and bag,” he said. “They're always sought after, even if low on Durability.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Here you are.”

My virtual wallet became fifty-four gold poorer. A system message popped up, reporting the purchase. Without leaving the shop, I distributed the runes between the items and hurried off to change into my new best.

The lack of energy weighed down on me. Only when I put the shirt on did I sense a relief. The pressure was gone. With every new item donned, my body shed some of the weight. The energy bar hit the green.

Max gave me a cheerful smile. “Feeling high? I bet.”

“Yeah, sort of,” I smiled back.

So what did we have here? This seven-item kit added +25 to Strength, +10 to Stamina and a bonus +18 to Speed. The three Stamina runes of nine points each and four Strength runes of ten each added their weight to the gear. All in all, my new stats began to look like this:

Strength, 68

Stamina, 40

Speed, 22

The kit's Durability was 70 which once again convinced me that I'd made the right decision buying new stuff. My Energy bar was especially pleasing to the eye with its 840-point calibration. Now I'd be able to spend more time working. I wouldn't have to quit the game so often. The only problem was, now I'd have to move into another room with a different type of capsule. The one I had now wasn't suitable for extended immersion.

And now down the malachite mine we go! Time to try out my acquisitions. I asked Max to remind his dad of our RV that evening and hurried out.

You could say I had a spring in my step all the way to the mines. They were situated at the same location. Already as I approached, I realized that something was wrong. If the agate mine had looked like a horror movie setting, the malachite fields were swarming with activity. Why all these people? Hadn't I read only the day before yesterday that no one was interested in mining malachite? And now it looked as if this place was experiencing some kind of industrial revolution!

As I moved closer, I was already getting some idea of what was going on. The place was packed with dwarves and gnomes. How many of them were there? Dozens? Hundreds?

I counted fifteen terminals in total, each with a small line of people in front of it. The queues moved and grew equally as fast, new diggers taking the place of those who’d declared their spoils.

The trolleys were brought out to special dedicated terminals that looked just like the one I'd been using. Wherever I turned, I saw none other than dwarves, gnomes and yet more dwarves. I remembered reading somewhere that the Stonefoot clan made up part of the Alliance of Light even though it didn't participate in any of its armed conflicts. The clan counted a handful of warriors but its bulk was made up by Grinders. They were actually more like a guild than a clan. And a very rich guild it was, too.

At first, no one paid any attention to me. Only when I finally stood in line at one of the terminals did I catch dozens of stares focusing on me—annoyed, indignant and openly sarcastic.

My turn came. I could physically sense the line behind me grow tense: I'd slowed their routine up.

Greetings, Olgerd!

This is Mine Terminal #22

Levels: 35 to 85

Resource: Malachite

Press Confirm to begin farming.

“Come on, move it!” voices shouted behind me. “Wretched noob! Quit stalling!”

I pressed Confirm. Still, the terminal wasn't in a hurry to let me go,

As of the latest lease agreement between the Stonefoot Clan and the Lord of Shantar, the clan's workers are denied access to the mines' three upper levels. You're welcome to farm resources at levels 4 and 5. Thank you for your consideration.

I stepped away from the terminal. The crowd heaved a sigh of relief. Yesterday I'd had no idea of any contract. The news had said nothing about it. Having said that, who'd be interested in a level-zero mine? Compared to breaking news of a conflict between the forces of Light and Dark in No-Man’s Lands or a report about the discovery of an ancient artifact in a sleeping god's tomb, a petty lease agreement would look admittedly out of place.

As for me... I knew of course I was just a nobody but had it really been so difficult to either send me a quick email or post a message on my page, informing me of these changes? I refused to believe I was the only Seasoned Digger working for Shantarsky. But still, as I climbed down the mine, I didn't see any of his employees. Only when I reached Level 4 did I understand why.

The descent had taken me about ten minutes—which meant that the round trip to the terminal and back would cost me twenty minutes of my time. I could already see that Level 4 wasn't equipped for using trolleys. And I dreaded to even think about Level 5.

The most I could take out on me would be 70 stones. Farming them would take me about ten minutes. So in theory, that meant 140 stones an hour. Minus queuing time, the stones’ regeneration time and other emergencies. Didn’t leave much. But at least I had a trump card up my sleeve: the Shrewd Operator. Plus my new gear kit which allowed me not to skimp on energy.

That's it! Enough procrastinating! Time to do some mining!

When I climbed out with my first dose of Malachite and lined up for the nearest terminal, I couldn't but notice their smirks. A comment reached my ears: He'll burn out by his third delivery and go for a beer.

Yeah yeah. They could laugh all they wanted. They hadn't seen me back in the agate mine, that's what it was. My new skill, all three points of it, pleased me even more. And this was just the beginning!

By my fifth trip, the dwarves glanced at me with undisguised curiosity. I must have looked like an idiot. So what? I'd already farmed 350 stones and raised my skill to 11 pt. I didn't even feel any energy loss. After the agate mine, this was a pleasure cruise.

I kept at it for almost nine hours. Finally, I exited the mine for the sixteenth time. My last trip. My skill was at 53. Shrewd Operator began glitching with a worrying regularity. It was probably some admins' regulation. According to my own count, I should have made much more already. I’d have to discuss this with Dmitry, even though he was unlikely to tell me. Possibly, he didn't even know. I was still pleased with the results. I'd already earned seventy gold. Had it not been for my friends and our outing, I'd have stayed in the mine for a little longer.

Dwarves cast respectful glances my way. And they hadn't even seen my stats! I waved to the terminal—it had already become a habit—and set off for Leuton.

My PM box pinged with a message from Rrhorgus.

We're in the Old Bell tavern. Waiting for you.

I'm on my way!

I entered the tavern's name into my satnav. It was within fifteen minutes' brisk walk. Excellent. I strode faster.

As I walked, I checked my email. Both the bag and the belt had sold. Good. I had a hundred seventy gold in my purse. Tonight we'd party, and tomorrow I'd transfer the extra to the bank. I didn't need so much money in the game.

I tensed as I checked on Pierrot's ring. Nothing. The ring was gone. Probably, the bidding time was up. That was good news. One trouble less. I was doing perfectly fine without any suspect artifacts. If it all went like this, very soon I'd move on to emeralds. That would allow me to resume my loan negotiations with Shantarsky.

The Old Bell tavern was a very picturesque place—like everything in Mirror World, really. It sported wide lattice windows made of hundreds of tiny colored glass panes. Red rounded tiles covered the roof. Little bells laced with fancy patterns hung from the roof ridges.

Virtually every part of the building was marked with a small picture of a bell. Its massive front doors, carved shutters and wrought railings all bore the same logo.

A system message greeted me at the doors,

Welcome to the Old Bell Tavern!

Would you like to download and install our free Menu app?

I accepted.

The tavern met me with a cloud of tantalizing aromas and the hubbub of voices. Players were chilling out after another hard day. No one was making trouble. Little wonder: two wardrobe-sized Horruds levels 40-plus kept the room peaceful. This was the first time I saw Greg's fellow counterparts in full combat gear: weapons, armor and all. They looked impressive. Apparently, the tavern owner was on the rise. It must have cost him a pretty penny to hire two such hulks as bouncers. Or was I missing the point?

I looked around me. The customers were mainly Grinders. Two level-forty men would be well enough to bring any number of trouble-makers to heel. Their service was excellent too: a bunch of petite Alven girls fluttered around the room in their uniforms resembling that of the German national costume: calico aprons embroidered with little bells and navy pinafores with full skirts worn over white wide-sleeved blouses with demure cleavages. Men cast surreptitious glances at the pretty girls but didn't allow themselves anything immoderate. Rrhorgus had chosen a very decent place. I really liked it here. If only I could bring my two girls here one day! We'd have had a lovely evening, the three of us.

Greg rose from a far table and waved his shovel of an arm at me. I threaded my way between the tables trying not to inconvenience anyone.

“What took you so long?” Greg thundered.

I smiled. “Sorry I'm late.”

Sandra, Greg and Rrhorgus stared at me cheerfully.

“You don't mess about, Mister Goner, do you?” Sandra said. “We thought we'd have to chip in for a nice little coffin for you—and you’re a Seasoned Sonovabitch already! Congrats!”

“Thanks! As the classic said, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“You like it here?” Rrhorgus asked.

“Very much. Sort of like Munich away from Munich.”

“You got it,” Rrhorgus nodded. “The owner is German. He started off as a Grinder too.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “One day I'm gonna save enough money for a Bronze plan. Then I'll spend some quality time mopping up dungeons until I make enough gold to open something like this. What do you think, Sandy? Would you marry a well-fed sour craft lover? We could make a few baby Horruds, brew beer and live happily ever after.”

“It's sauerkraut, stupid, not sour craft,” she corrected him. “Making babies and drinking beer, that's all you can think of. You seem to be too content to stick to your hourly wage. Look at our Grinder friend here and try to level your skill up a bit too. You need to start growing otherwise you risk lugging granite around for the rest of your life.”

“It's all right,” Greg waved her words away. “Every dog has its day.”

“If you say so,” she murmured. “So do groundhogs.”

Three girls fluttered out of the kitchen carrying large trays groaning with food. Expertly navigating the room, they headed for our table.

Noticing their advance, Greg tensed in anticipation.

“I wish you were as enthusiastic when you saw a slab of rock,” Sandra commented.

While they exchanged quips, I leafed through the menu. Oh well. It looked very respectable, neat and quite cheap too.

Rrhorgus smiled at the other two's banter. “We've already ordered while we waited for you.”

The table began to fill with various dishes. A deep clay bowl was filled to the brim with sour... er, sauerkraut. An oblong plate heaving with fried sausage of every kind and shape stood next to it. Pig shanks and spare ribs were followed by a few misted pitchers of light beer. The whole caboodle looked and smelled delicious.

I surveyed the table in bewilderment, then looked at my friends. All three stared at me in anticipation. “What?”

“Just waiting for you to try,” Rrhorgus said. “As far as I understand, this is your first meal in Mirror World.”

“Ah yeah,” I forked the nearest sausage. “That's good. Why? What's wrong?”

“Good? Is that all you can say?” Sandra couldn't conceal her disappointment.

“Our Olgerd must be so used to his virtual body now he can't even understand what we expect from him,” Rrhorgus explained.

“Honestly, I can't,” I admitted. “What's all this about?”

“It's about you sitting here eating virtual food. And the fact that you can smell and taste it,” Sandra couldn't help herself.

“Ah. I see.”

Rrhorgus smiled and sent a piece of bread tumbling into his mouth. “It's just that your reaction is unusual,” he said. “One might think you've been a gamer for at least a couple of years.”

“I remember the shock I had the first time,” Greg confirmed, necking down some pork and potatoes.

I shrugged. “I never looked at it that way.”

“It's all right,” Sandra summarized. “What difference does it make? The main thing is, he's enjoying it.”

Rrhorgus swigged some beer from his mug. “What have you done over there at the malachite mine?”

I didn't understand the question. “What have I done?”

“While I was waiting, I got a message from Flint, one of the Seasoned players, a nice guy. He told me about a certain Olgerd who apparently got one over on the dwarves. The guy walked in, checked in as if it was the most natural thing in the world, went down to Level 4 without as much as breaking into a sweat, delivered a very decent turnover, finished his work and left without saying a word.”

I could have done more had it not been for this particular appointment, I wanted to say but kept it to myself. I didn't want to hurt their feelings.

“Flint?” Sandra said. “I know him. Nice guy, a Dwand. His group are all nice.”

Greg nodded. “I know him too.”

I shrugged and said what I'd been thinking, “After the agate mine doing malachite is a walk in the park. Not even to mention my gear.”

“You see?” Sandra turned to Greg. “That's the attitude!”

“Flint would like to see you tomorrow,” Rrhorgus said.

“Why?”

“He's the permanent leader of the Dungeon Busters group.”

“But there have always been four of them,” Sandra sounded surprised.

“Apparently, he was sufficiently impressed by the escapades of our Seasoned friend.”

Mechanically Greg raised his enormous paw to slap my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut. My jacket's Durability was about to take some damage. Still, he stopped himself just in time.

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I won't do it again.”

“Please don't,” Sandra giggled. “Our dear Olgerd still has a few years' life in him.”

Rrhorgus paused and went on. “Flint knows about your instance application. The guild included it in the newsletter it sends out to all group leaders. It's basically just a lucky coincidence. For my part I can say that both Flint and his guys are very correct.”

Sandra and Greg nodded their agreement.

“I'm all for it,” I said. “I was quite prepared to join any group at all.”

“Excellent,” Rrhorgus said. “I want you to come over to see me tomorrow. I'll introduce you.”

“That calls for a toast,” Greg announced. “To the future dungeon buster!”

Our clay mugs thudded their fat sides in unison.

“That's not all,” Rrhorgus continued once we'd drunk the toast. “We have a gift for you. You're a Seasoned Digger now, after all.”

“What kind of gift?” I asked.

Greg grinned. “It's a surprise!”

“Come on, give it to him already!” Sandra opened her eyes wide in anticipation.

What were they up to? Judging by their hyped attitude, it must have been something interesting.

“Here, take it,” Rrhorgus said.

Rrhorgus would like to give you a Surprise Gift.

Accept: Yes/No

I smiled. This was an easy choice.

You've received a Surprise Gift!

Would you like to open it?

“Come on, open it already!”

“Go ahead, dude!”

“You're like children, really,” still smiling, I opened the gift.

You've opened a Surprise Gift!

You've received the Truth Will Out Ring!