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Scientists say that a dream is a sequence of images drawn from our memory. Apparently, we don’t realize we’re asleep and believe the dream to be part of real life.

I’m not sure if being chased by gigantic spiders clad in rusty armor can qualify as part of real life. It was the bit with a girl in a wheelchair that had bothered me most in my dream: she was someone I’d been trying hard to remember—and couldn’t.

Then at a certain point everything had disappeared: both the girl and the spiders, replaced by tranquility. I dreamed of our old country cottage and the times when Sveta and I had just got married. Her, sitting on the river bank with a bamboo fishing rod. Me, lying on the soft grass watching her inconspicuously. Her small nose, her intense stare; her wavy hair pulled into a nice little ponytail. Me, smiling; calling her my little angler. She seemed to love it. Finally, sensing my stare on the back of her head, she turned around and made a face at me, bringing a warning finger to her lips. As in, be quiet, I’m about to catch a huge one!

I was happy. I knew it was only a dream and still I was happy. I lowered my eyelids with pleasure, then heard Sveta’s voice,

“Wake up, sleepy head! The fish are biting! Wake up now!”

A hand on my shoulder. A strange voice. “Wake up! Please wake up!”

“No,” I croaked with my eyes shut. “Why couldn’t you have woken me up when I was dreaming all sorts of junk...”

“I can see you’ve decided to move to the clinic permanently,” somebody else said.

I knew this voice. “Not my fault,” I wheezed. “The credit is all yours, Mr. Shantarsky, sir.”

“Please don’t say that,” Shantarsky’s voice kept urging. “What have I got to do with that? On the contrary—my workers keep me informed that you seem to be bent on working yourself into an early grave.”

I opened my eyes. I lay on a bed in a spacious single hospital room. Medical equipment beeped next to my headrest. Shantarsky sat on a chair in the far corner with his arms crossed, looking respectable and dignified as usual. He reeked of an expensive aftershave. His gold watch and cufflinks glistened in the sunlight.

A man in a lab coat was busy with the equipment. A doctor, probably—who else? Then again, nothing would surprise me after the trick Slayer had played on me.

I suppressed a sarcastic grin. Yeah, right. Talk about paranoid.

Apparently, Shantarsky misinterpreted my smirk. “Did I say something funny?”

“Oh no, not at all. Must be nerves.”

“I understand.”

“Do you really?”

Shantarsky must have picked up on the sarcasm in my voice. He winced. “Dear Oleg, you’re the last person I’d expect to lose his cool.”

“That’s because you didn’t have to prance around the cave in the company of jumbo spiders,” I blurted out.

The doctor—or whoever he was—finished whatever he was doing and left without a word. Once the door closed behind him, Shantarsky spoke apologetically,

“You have to believe me: I’m really, really sorry about what happened.”

I felt the blood pulsing in my face. My jaws clenched. I had to watch out not to tell him everything I thought about him. And about his son. And that bastard Slayer. Wait a sec... What was he going on about?

“I have to admit,” Shantarsky said, deliberately ignoring my mental state, “that you’ve found a very elegant solution to the problem. Bravo! Can you imagine the amazement of my men when they discovered there was virtually nothing left of you?”

“What do you mean, nothing?” I asked coldly.

“Virtually nothing. The moment I heard about my son’s escapades, I sent a rescue group to get you out. They promptly mopped up the instance—but by the time they’d reached level 7 they only discovered a few pieces of your gear. I had to pay them extra by way of apology for wasting their time—for my failing to let them know your group leader had already discarded you.”

He rubbed his clean-shaven chin, pensive. “The only problem is,” he said softly, “I had to lie to my employees. And that, as you can well imagine, is not the most pleasant thing in the world.”

Our eyes met. He knew everything, I could see that. But I could also see one other thing: the duel between keeping my secret and claiming compensation for damages was about to end in the former’s victory.

I heaved a sigh and leaned back against the pillows. “Before we go on,” I began, all businesslike, “I need to make sure that none of the other group members have been hurt. I need to know where I am and contact my family and my brother. I suppose, your little son will come out of it smelling of roses. So it would be pointless to demand that justice be done. The other group members must have already been sufficiently warned off, I suppose. I just hope they’re all right. That’s all I have to say. So what is it you want?”

He flashed a smile. “You’re remarkably quick on the uptake. I didn’t even say anything.”

I just shrugged. For a while, he waited for me to continue.

“Very well,” he finally said. “If that’s how you want it. Your friends are fine. They’ve even been transferred to another job in a different cluster. Once they received compensation and found out that you had no claims against them, they shut up.”

“Did they?” I asked with a crooked smile.

“Oh, yes,” he hadn’t noticed my sarcasm. “Why not?”

I kept grinning. “Indeed, why not?”

“And as for where you are... You’re in my personal capsule center. As you can imagine, it’s considerably more comfortable that the ones you had to use before.”

“I was comfortable enough there.”

“Don’t speak too soon. You’ll see tomorrow.”

“You and I, do we have a tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled. “Most definitely. Now, your family. As soon as we finish talking, you’ll be able to speak to them.”

“Can’t we do it now?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Am I your prisoner?”

“You’re joking, aren’t you? It’s only because if you speak to them now, we might not be able to have a constructive discussion later. Which is only in your own interests, mind you.”

“Only mine?”

“And ours too.”

“Ours?”

“Yes. I speak not only of myself now.”

“It’s getting interesting. So what is it you want?”

Shantarsky rearranged the right cufflink. “We need an Expert Digger.”

It took me some effort to suppress a gasp.

“I thought you’d be surprised,” he continued. “Or did you really think your secret would be safe for much longer? Mirror World is just one big village. Every high level player, be he a warrior or an honest laborer, immediately comes to the attention of the stronger clans.”

“So what’s that got to do with me?”

He shook his head. “Please. I thought we had an understanding.”

I heaved a sigh and waved to him to get on with it.

“Very well,” he continued. “I’ve weighed up all the options and come to the conclusion that your character is in possession of some unique abilities. You’ve only been in the game for a month and you’re already an Experienced Digger!”

‘So what? I didn’t break the rules, did I?”

He smiled again. “Oleg, please don’t get so het up.”

He had a really creepy smile.

“It’s only that I,” Shantarsky continued, “have the necessary power to offer you an opportunity to make full use of these abilities of yours.”

In other words, to work me into an early grave. “Providing that this full use of me doesn’t include me popping my clogs in your service,” I said.

“Oh no, we can’t make that happen. You’re too valuable to us.”

“Us? Who do you mean?”

“The administration of the alliance that unites the strongest clans of Light.”

I whistled with surprise. “So!”

“What did you think I was talking about?”

“Well, I suppose I thought you’d come to apologize for your son and his actions,” I said.

He sat back and grinned again. “Now that you’ve mentioned him, my stance in his respect is quite clear. My son’s too young and too quick off the mark. Power is the only language he understands. For him, you’re nothing. There’s no way to convince him otherwise. You might say you’re a human being—which should be enough. Well, you might be right in your own way. But this philosophy doesn’t sit well with him. So I’m not going to discipline him, no. Why should I? I’ve been raising him a leader, proud and strong. I’ve taught him to never bow his head to any Tom, Dick or Harry. Are you angry? That’s good. But I don’t care what you think. I’ll tell you something else: you’ll have to swallow your pride. You’ll have to do what you’re told. And you know the funny thing about it? I’m going to tell you now so we can laugh together: strangely enough, you’ll be only too eager to obey my orders.”

I was furious.

“No need to blow a fuse,” he continued in a calm voice. “Keep your hair on. You’re only slowing up your own recovery. As for Slayer—you might be happy to know that he’s been fired. Not because of you, actually. In your case he was only following my son’s orders. And he’s done an excellent job, I have to admit. No; it was his drug habit that was his undoing. We found out too late. Our clan has no place for drug abuse. But you know something? He seems to think it’s because of you. He blames it on you, heh! Talking of which, I know it may sound stupid but you have to thank this little incident in the Spider Grotto for your being able to stay in Mirror World at all. Surprised? I’ll explain it to you in a minute. Such a meteoric rise through levels couldn’t have remained unnoticed for much longer. Sooner or later, other players would have started asking questions. Or even filing complaints against you. I’m pretty sure that in less than a month, the admins would have been forced to delete your account. You’d have never been able to keep your abilities under wraps. Impossible. Those in the know would have found out. Just like I did.”

“What do you want?” I asked icily, shaking with fury.

Shantarsky raised a surprised eyebrow. “You can’t have already forgotten, surely! Didn’t I just tell you? We’re looking for an Expert Digger. Granted you’re only Experienced, but I can offer you every opportunity to level up.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“You sure you need it? We’re not forcing you to work with us. But you’re going to do your best anyway.”

“Why should I?”

He gave me a friendly smile. “We’ve signed a contract, haven’t we? Or did you think we’d use you as slave labor?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Nothing to understand, really. Your contract with me is still valid. All we‘ll do, we’ll extend it and tweak it in a few places. You have your daughter’s medical bills to pay, don’t you? That’s why you applied for a loan, right? The paperwork is on the table over there. Once we sign it, my bank will wire the money to Germany. All your problems will be solved with one stroke of a pen.”

I tensed; I even craned my neck, looking for the ominous contract. So this was my ticket into slavery? It couldn’t be. I could smell a rat there somewhere. I was only an ordinary Grinder. There were hundreds of thousands of them in Mirror World. True, Pierrot had endowed me with a few so-called cheat skills, but my experience had already taught me that his gifts were treacherously short-lived.

Plus Shantarsky had been threatening me with publicity. He’d said they might delete my account. But was it really possible? Publicity yes, why not—even though neither of us profited from it. But deleting my account? I’d signed a user’s agreement. I’d broken no rules. I’d chosen a character based on the characteristics offered to me by the system. There was no problem there.

Yes, I needed the loan. Or rather, I needed to raise the money for Christina’s hospital treatment. If it involved a stretch of slavery, so be it. Humiliation was nothing. I was quite prepared to eat dirt if it helped. My pride had died with my daughter’s first heart.

Still, there was something else I had to consider. I had a funny feeling that this contract was going to differ from the generic ones quite a bit. I was pretty sure it was stuffed with all sorts of restrictive conditions. I wasn’t a slave, yeah right! Had this snake spoken to me in the presence of my brother and and in somewhere neutral—maybe. Oh no siree, instead you’d kidnapped me and hadn’t allowed me to contact my family. Judging by the way my head was spinning, you might have even plied me with some nasty substances while I’d lain here unconscious. No, this was no way to conduct business.

There was also another argument against it, something that had kept bugging me since my flight to Germany. At first I’d tried not to even think of it, but little by little I’d forced myself to face it. The thing was... what if Christina’s body rejected the Japanese heart? What then? No one had promised us a 100% success rate. The odds were indeed very high, but still not a 100%. Been there. So what if this heart died too? And I’d be stuck here in Shantar’s mines working off the loan with my hands tied? Someone might say, never mind, I could always apply for another loan even if it meant selling myself down the river and becoming Shantar’s property. But what if my child’s body rejected this second heart too... and the third one... and the fourth one... What then? Sooner or later, I’d just choke on it all. Not because I’d give up—no, I just wouldn’t be in a position to help her anymore.

I firmly believed her new heart was going to take. Christina would get better. Then we’d be looking at a long-winded recovery process. We’d need money to buy groceries and pay the bills; we’d have to find a place for us all to stay; we’d also need to pay for her education. Life would have to go on. We’d need to give our girl a good start in life. We could finally live. Just live, dammit!

Somehow I doubted that I could achieve all this working for Shantarsky. And there was also another thing to consider. Something that I hadn’t noticed until now—because I’d been either too thick or too set in my ways. For hundreds of thousands of people, this wasn’t a game anymore. Take Shantarsky himself, for instance. What was he doing playing a game, with his money? What kept drawing him here? How much money had he already invested into this project? And how much did he intend to invest still? Was it because he enjoyed it? Or was it because he liked spending time here? The list could go on, but still I had the strange feeling he was in it for the money. Because the potential money turnover here was huge.

My not taking Mirror World too seriously had prevented me from asking myself the very important question: what if I too could achieve something bigger in this world? Yes, the world. It had become one for me, anyway. The downside was that I’d only realized the fact now, imprisoned by that bastard Shantarsky and under his control, facing slavery.

Never mind. I’d have to bide my time. The most important thing to do now was to get in contact with Dmitry. Together we could sort it all out.

“You’ll keep on working and leveling up as usual,” Shantarsky continued his sales pitch. “You’ll have a special module center at your disposal. Everything will remain the same. The only things that will change are zero risks and a minimum of interactions with other players. You’ll be working in the most remote cluster of our alliance.”

Oh. He hadn’t even mentioned the pay yet. I had a bad feeling about this contract already. I needed to prize some more intel out of him. “But this, as far as I understand, is only the beginning?”

“Exactly,” he beamed. “Do you know anything about the neutral zone?”

I shook my head. Let him tell me himself.

“Even the very greenest of newbs knows about it,” he said. “The neutral lands are virtually uncharted. Our groups venture there to gradually explore the most inaccessible areas.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’ll see in a moment. We’ve discovered quite a few instances that offer some really rare resources in addition to the usual loot. We’re especially interested in gem stones.”

“I see. Mining in combat conditions, eh?”

“You could say that,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it.”

I smiled. Worth it—for whom? And at what price? And more importantly, what would it cost me?

“As far as I understand, Expert Diggers are quite well-off,” I repeated what I’d heard from the other guys. “And they don’t seem to be particularly interested in risky schemes like mining to the accompaniment of volleying cannons and bullets whizzing past.”

What would he say to that?

“Overall, what you’ve just said makes sense,” Shantarsky said calmly. “But from experience I can tell you that your logic is slightly flawed. There are certain stones that keep resurfacing at our closed auctions—the kind of stones only Expert Diggers can mine. Take a guess: do you think you can name a game where an especially rare stone can fetch a million bucks?”

So that’s what he wanted me for. To tie my loan to a new work contract—thus leaving me no room for maneuver.

I frowned, faking disbelief, “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“Sorry. It’s just that that kind of money-”

“I need to tell you something,” he leaned closer. “There’re many people for whom Mirror World is much more than a game. And some of them are prepared to pay tenfold more than the sum I’ve just mentioned,” he smiled carnivorously. “There’re some top level players in our alliance. We guard those people closely. No one knows they exist. You might call us conspiracy freaks and you’d be right in your own way. You might say we’ve taken the joke too far. But I believe that given another month, you might catch up with them.”

Yeah right, Mister Snake. He wanted me to be his personal Expert Digger! Bound hand and foot by the promise of a loan? I beg to differ. His pitch was well-rehearsed but not subtle enough.

I decided to check. “I don’t need so much.”

“So much what?” he asked, uncomprehending.

“If you give me everything I need, I won’t need a month to make Expert level.”

I could see dollar signs flash in his eyes. “I’m all ears,” Shantarsky said.

Time to fly the coop, as the saying goes. “I’d like to call my wife,” I said aloud. “She must be worried out of her mind. How long have I been here, actually?”

“Less than twenty-four hours,” Shantarsky said. “No need to indulge in conspiracy theories. The only reason we’ve had you moved here from the communal center was to provide better conditions for your recovery.”

Sure. Those eyes couldn’t lie. Freakin’ snake. Kidnapper. He had no idea he was playing with fire. Either he was so cock sure of himself and his connections or he didn’t expect me to decline his offer. Him blackmailing me! Threatening me with “publicity“! Actually, this could be his cover story: he could always say he’d had me moved to his place out of fear for my well-being. I’d love to know how the center’s security had allowed him to do so... then again, I was working for him, wasn’t I? He must have sent some goons in lab coats to collect his employee, as simple as that. As in, he was worried about me! He must have had his people among the center’s security, too.

Just you wait till Dmitry finds out. Heads will roll, that’s for sure.

They’d try to sweep the whole thing under the carpet, of course. There must have been some very influential people standing behind all of this. They didn’t need unwanted publicity. Kidnapping an innocent player out of a communal module center in broad daylight? Please. Who would trust them after that? So yes, they would definitely try to sweep the whole thing under the carpet. Even if it meant hurting me.

So I’d have to swallow my pride. It wasn’t the right moment to blow the whistle. But still, I’d have to send Dmitry a word somehow.

“I’m going to send somebody to your module now to collect your things,” Shantarsky said. “In the meantime, you can take a look at the contract.”

He rose and walked out of the room.

Once I was alone, I sprang from my bed. No, sprang was probably the wrong word choice. Scrambled was more like it. Wheezing and ouching, I crawled from under the blanket. Why was I so weak? They must have slipped me a Mickey Finn somehow. Then again, this was probably how I was supposed to feel after my Spider Grotto escapades.

I walked over to the window. I was on the third floor. A lawn; some trees; a river or a lake glistening at a distance. I was out of town, that little was clear. The window wasn’t barred. I suppose I had to be grateful for small mercies.

I turned around. What was that over there? Aha, a bathroom. No window.

I went back into the room. The window frames were blocked. If I wanted to get out, I’d have to break the glass. And then what? Jump? I’d only break my legs. No, I couldn’t escape that way.

How about the door?

A burly individual sat in the corridor just outside the door. He glared at me like a python at a rabbit.

“Whassup?” his voice rang with threat. “Go back in.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” I pleaded shyly.

“Use the one in your room. Good enough. Now get in and stay in before I tear you a new one. Understood?”

I pulled the door shut. I was trapped. Might Dmitry be looking for me already? He was supposed to have gone on a business trip, wasn’t he? Then again, he’d been planning to return about the same time as I’d finished the instance. In which case he must have already visited my room in the module center. If what Shantarsky had told me was indeed true, I’d been in suspended animation for quite a while. Also, I’d promised my wife to contact her as soon as I logged out, so she must have raised the alarm already.

In which case Dmitry would definitely try and contact Rrhorgus. Flint wouldn’t keep his mouth shut either, I was sure of that. They must have already been looking for me.

Still, time was an issue. I had to do something—but what?

I reached for the chair, about to smash it against the window pane, when the door opened and closed again.

A hulk of a man towered in the doorway.

“Towered” being the operative word. He was a good seven foot tall, built like a professional weight lifter... or a wrestler. No, a weight lifter. He didn’t have the stoop typical of wrestlers and boxers and was much broader in the chest. Bulging with muscle, if you know what I mean.

I sort of deflated. Still, I kept clutching the chair, trying to shield myself with it.

“Excuse me, sir,” the giant boomed, “please leave the chair alone and follow me.”

“Follow you, where?” my voice broke. “My friends are looking for me,” I added, trying to regain face.

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted me. “Keep your cool. I’ve come to take you out of here. Follow me.”

He reopened the door and walked out first. No idea who he was or what his intentions were. I just knew I wasn’t going to stay in this cage of a room for much longer. There was also a slim possibility of me giving him the slip on our way. I just hoped this troll of a man was indeed as muscle-bound as he looked.

I stepped to the door and peeked out. My rescuer’s broad back hovered a few paces in front: he was striding away without even looking back. He didn’t look as if he was escorting me to some torture chamber. He didn’t even seem to care whether I followed him or not.

The sight of the goon by the door gave me hope. He was still sitting there, his arms crossed on his chest. His head hung listlessly to one side. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep?

I must have stopped in my tracks. The giant’s calm voice brought me back to my senses,

“He’ll live. But we need to hurry.”

The elevator dinged. The giant was already inside, holding the door open for me. I looked around, shrugged and followed my surprise escort.

“Did my brother send you?” I asked, hoping against hope.

I watched the floor panel surreptitiously as he pressed the button for level -1. We must have been heading for the underground parking. The floor numbers on the shimmering blue display began to dwindle.

“No, he didn’t,” he said. “But that’s where I’m taking you.”

“But-”

“The person who sent me means you no harm. On the contrary. You’ll see in a moment.”

I drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. The moment the elevator opened, I would dart for freedom. I was still weak but this guy was heavy. And if I ever got out of this mess, I’d make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me again.

The elevator’s display panel finally blinked. The elevator jerked to a halt. I tensed myself and prepared to bolt for it.

Slowly the silvery door slid open. I didn’t bolt. In fact, I froze. A light poke in the back brought me back to my senses.

“Please step out,” the giant boomed.

I did so, but—was this a dream or something? I was facing a wheelchair. Not any old cheap one, either: I’d seen my fair share of wheelchairs over the last few years.

A girl sat in the chair. Or rather, a young woman. Slim and petite. Slender wrists. Pasty face. Pallid lips. She reminded me of a frail pot plant, brittle but struggling to survive.

She sat motionless in her wheelchair that next to her looked heavy and unyielding. Her chest barely rose with her each breath.

Then her eyes met mine.

The emerald eyes, heart-wrenchingly alive. I remembered them. I didn’t need words to tune into her sadness. Into her concern. Her warmth. Her regret.

* * *

THE CAR SPED ALONG the highway. It whizzed past road posts, trees and the oncoming traffic, ignoring the blurry faces of roadside vendors offering their humble wares: wild mushrooms, hand-picked forest fruit and penny souvenirs.

The distant fields were one boundless sea of green grass. A clumsy tractor raised dust, rattling along the dirt track that ran parallel to the highway.

The car’s interior was neither hot nor cold. The driver, a young guy of about twenty years of age, kept his eyes on the road, checking the mirrors but ignoring me entirely.

I sat in the back seat, rereading a brief printout,

Dear Oleg,

I’m very sorry about what happened to you. It’s the first time in my life I disobeyed my father. For the first time in my life I’m ashamed of what he’s done.

Please forgive us if you can.

This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have stopped and talked to you.

I’m very sorry.

I do hope your daughter gets better soon.

Sincerely,

Isa

I prized myself away from the letter and sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t think about anything just now. My head was a mess. My heart was heavy. I closed my eyes. I’d have loved to drink myself senseless.

I awoke when someone gently shook my arm.

“Here we are,” the driver said. “This is the place, right?”

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The driver was right. We’d arrived. I could see the familiar poster and the sign above the door. My brother’s office.

“Thanks,” I said, opening the car door.

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” the driver echoed.

For a moment, I watched the dark sedan pull away and disappear round the corner. Then I headed for the door.

The familiar guard posted by the entrance stared at me as if he was looking at a fruitcake. Of course. I was still wearing my hospital duds. My unshaven face was a mess. My hair was standing on end.

Still, he flagged me through. As I walked up the stairs, I hear his voice below,

“He’s here, sir... Yes. Already. He’s coming up.”

My brother met me by his office door. Surprise filled his eyes. He was trying to say something when I interrupted him, “You have some alcohol?”

Then I corrected myself. “Sorry. Not now. First I should call Sveta. Then I’ll get drunk.”