In the name of freedom

It's time, of course, to remember how to play the village chamshire, but it's better not to sit around just like that.To pump diplomacy and go home.

Well, Grax," I called out to my lookout. get in touch with your own. Let them push this tsar in half an hour.

Whatever you say!, the highlander nodded contentedly, and then took in his hand a boulder of raw crystal hanging from his neck with beads, rubbed the side faces, outlined a communication rune on the surface and, as if into a walkie-talkie, transmitted simple but key words to his watchers in the gorge. Take the feathered one to the camp.

Chapter 1. Chamshir from the Singing Winds Pass

The past

That was fifteen years ago.

The next day, after an engineer friend came to me after a night shift.His panic only spurred me to action.I was finally convinced of the soundness of my decision and poured most of the savings into the purchase of a video card and RAM cards.

I knew I didn't have much time.For some reason I felt it.I had to pay extra at the online store for the rush, arrange delivery to the pick-up point in the shortest possible time.A new wave of madness was threatening to go around the world, and time was running out for a day.A week ago, the equipment cost one and a half times cheaper.A day after the adoption of the law on global disconnection from the network, prices will soar to astronomical peaks.There will still be a way out. But not here, not in the public domain, not for ordinary users.

They do it right, actually.Otherwise, soon the planet will simply lose its population in an avalanche.No, not all of them. Someone will probably stay on their own, the other part will not be accepted by the "Aden" itself, and the world as a whole will become even better and more pleasant than in times of economic crisis or starvation from lack of resources.But the very possibility of choice was corrupting and enticing.After all, "Aden" gave Life!In another world and under different conditions.Where you can build your own personal state and get complete freedom of action.

Someone called gamers fugitives.Someone called cowards.Others tried to declare them enemies of the nation for a mind-shattering idea.The players were blamed, hated, could be ambushed in the evening in a doorway and beaten, making them disabled.The scumbags thought it was better to keep a neighbor crippled here than to let him go into the game.Yes, to die, as they thought.Well, or go to the dream world, as the players themselves believed.

Any choice has consequences.Whether it's fairy-tale dreams of airy pink castles, where dozens of favorites circle their duchess in a waltz, feasting on top of a diamond platform under the colorful colors of the sunset.The game took only personalities.Souls. A lot of information. But she always left bodies.This is a natural and inevitable process.It is impossible to transfer such a voluminous physical object as a body through a virtual platform.But you can direct the flow of information and energy of the soul.Activists found many beautiful words explaining the physics of such a process, but, as usual, they were not believed.Even if the players from Aden themselves claimed that they remember the moment of the "transition" as a long tunnel.Any fantasy had consequences.Although, what would have changed if the players disappeared with the bodies irrevocably? Nothing!Few people think about the consequences of the transition.Everyone cares about their present.Just think what will happen to relatives and friends!You never know how they will then go crazy.Who cares No one.

Idiots.

But if not for the aggressive hysteria of the world, if not for the hopot waiting around the corner...If it weren't for the insanity leading to the complete degradation of the nation and the total madness of every passerby... I would still think of staying.

The example of a farm on the islands sounded even cute and seductive.But if you wait a bit, save up money, then soon you will be able to buy an abandoned alien mansion on a small island.You don't have to build it yourself.Take it, move in, start farming, raise livestock, grab just a couple of other villagers who will teach you how to milk a goat properly, and then you can cope.After all, I have long wanted some kind of life in nature, outside the metropolis and the crowd of citizens.Here is my chance! You just have to agree and... do nothing.Just live as it is, on the wave of the current, following the flow and humbly accepting the technological apocalypse.But... it's always a "but". Something was bothering me from the inside.It made me nervous, looking out on the streets and listening to news feeds.The thickened panic of the people acted on me like poison and I could not imagine what kind of people would surround me further. Not here. Not in this world.Not surrounded by such a mood among the people.They pushed people into the game themselves.

Funny. Humanity has always written fiction about virtuality and parallel worlds.It was as if they were preparing that someday there would be a huge choice for life and self-realization.People made films about the game industry, introduced virtual fights into professional sports, did everything to register the electronic world in everyday life.But in fact, when people began to leave in a stream, the nation was not ready to accept virtual as a second field for life.After all, they could have come up with a common trading exchange, they could have developed a bio-shell stasis system, then a system for exiting the game.We could do everything as long as the players were willing to cooperate and go to the general network.But they were no longer needed by the native nation.And after that moreover the nation nurtured xenophobes.

It was scary. It's just scary to miss some chance or the last ticket without any fuss.But it's scary even just to go outside.While, on the contrary, there was no fear of a virtual helmet and a mnemovisor.Although, they say, cases have become more frequent around the world when the game took people with the first signal of the user's exit to the regular network.

It was a time of chaos.

I had to get up at five in the morning to come across the city to the opening of the electronics store by seven.I was guided not by thirst, but by ordinary security.I decided that at eight or nine in the morning my spies would still be sleeping, and they would not catch me at the entrance.

Once I was already beaten for a flat container from a work tablet in which I was carrying a stack of working sketches.Thanks, I don't want to limp anymore.Of course, I was also a moron and didn't think that these scumbags would make a rack for electronics packaging.But then I only got the sketches dirty.And now I'm taking real equipment!

To the security guards to complain about the hopot is useless.These guys will support me, but they'll put me in jail.Supposedly, I will be healthier this way.And you can't argue, life is safer behind bars now.Caring, she is so Like a stasis of frozen carcasses and souls with personalities in plastic boxes.Somewhere I already remember it... I dreamed about it once.

In short, an alarm clock, a quick snack, a more decent look, an office briefcase, sketches, newspapers to fill the space and, most importantly, a secret makeshift compartment in the wall of the briefcase.I sewed this shit on for half a day yesterday, carefully tucking all the seams under the frame of the dense case.

Survived

I had breakfast already on the street on the move.

The buses were getting more spacious every week.They say people left for small towns and villages to wait out the panic somewhere in a quiet place.It's better this way than playing the game en masse.I would not like to meet all this crowd of neurotics in the virtual.

I got to the store without any problems. It's even strange.He entered, however, looking around to find out if anything, faces at the exit.

They didn't take any extra money from me.I paid for everything in advance.Received the boxes, signed.The seller only looked sympathetically. I'm on it too.But at least he is transported by corporate transport to the entrance, unless, of course, he was moved to a separate working town.And I have to get back by public transport.

At the store, I asked for time to repack and get rid of the boxes.The seller spread his hands and gave up the counter.So that everyone around is so understanding.In general, the interesting guys here stayed to work.Either phlegmatic and stress-resistant, or ideological.Or maybe they get paid tenfold, and they have mountains of gold at home outside the city.

I packed everything in a briefcase carefully.Gentle technique will not tolerate blows and strong shaking.You can't run with her. But you shouldn't linger either.He filled up the secret compartment, put his sketches on top again and, gathering his courage, rushed home.

On the way, it seemed like the whole bus was staring at me.Either they didn't like my face.Either I hid my excitement badly.Either the briefcase was pressed too hard. I don't know!I saw predatory eyes of mothers and reproachful glances of grandfathers.Some schoolboy tried to explain himself with conditional gestures on his fingers, but I turned away from him.I checked myself in the reflection of the glass again, just in case.Nothing critical.Only his eyes are a little red from fatigue and he looks disheveled.Then why the fuck am I worried!?

But problems began at the entrance.

Hey, Sohrin!

Filth

Yes, Hoona?, I asked, turning around dejectedly and not stopping.

Why are you going home so early?, a yawning guy in a T-shirt and gray pants peeled off from the wall and followed me.

I'm coming back from the interview, I muttered.

What, draftsmen are not needed anywhere today?, he guffawed.

I turned away and made a face.

Show me the pictures, it sounded almost in my ear.

Hoona, leave me

I was grabbed by the shoulder, turned around and pressed against the dirty wall of the house next to a large dumpster.

Show me the bag. Now, the guy got to the bottom of it, breathing fumes on me.

There was no fear as such. There was confusion.But a wave of adrenaline hit my head sharply, depicting panic on my face.

Well?

I slowly obeyed.A petty thought said that maybe, after seeing the papers, the type would fall off?

Unbuttoning the bag, I showed its contents.Slowly, like in a fog.Watching every wrong move.

Hoona began to dig through the leaflets.Rude, harsh, not interested in their content.I almost tore something, crumpled some sketches.I didn't give a shit about that.

Really pieces of paper. Stupid job you have. Take you to the factory. But they won't accept it there either. Skinnyopa. And this what?

Hoona's meaty hand rode over the protruding corner of the board under the secret compartment.Fingers felt the contour, pressed the fabric.And then it came to the type.

You went for iron!

A heavy fist hit me in the face quickly and without a swing.Good shot, high-quality.I didn't have time to react.The world erupted with pain, knocking out tears and turbidity.The head seemed to split in half.Through my clenched eyes, I sensed something pulling the bag out of my hands with a rough effort. My bag! Out of my hands!

Mine!

And then, something in me clicked

I opened my eyes and stared wildly at the guy.Slowly and sleepily, he tugged at the edge of the bag.It's too uncomfortable scratching your fingers on the zipper.Adrenaline turned emotions into a frenzy, and I spun around sharply, snatching the briefcase from someone else's fingers.There was some kind of scream. I wanted to hit that sound.But I suppressed the urge to hit with a briefcase.Just not with valuable boards! Throw it on the ground? I'll trample it.Throw it aside and I'll break it.

An almost full container with garbage caught my eye.Without thinking, I threw the briefcase on the soft bags.Hoona won't rush into the trash, he needs me

And then, on the rest of the turn, when the guy pulled me by the shoulder, I hit back with all the stupidity.Only at the last moment did he squint his fist so that he would not drive the broken nasal septa into the skull.

The victim howled in a bad tone and grabbed his face.The unintelligible mat sounded from under the palm.I raised my fist and waited. He was furious, saw the goal, did not notice his pain and waited.Why did you wait? Don't know.He understood how to hit the open back of the head with his elbow.I knew that if I added, amplified the blow, I could finish him off, but ... this is a living person!You can't do that! I'm not a murderer!But... then how do I know what to do?

Calculations, force, impact angle

Kill in your home world... or kill in a game that has become a reality.Is there a difference? There is, because they are resurrected in the game.

Sick bastard!,Hoona howled more clearly, and then, backing up, met my gaze and ran away altogether.

For a few more seconds I stood in a fighting stance, looking at the fleeing... enemy?And then the sense of reality began to return. Did I do it?! I..?

It began to pound all the muscles finely. Like a cramp. Like a waste product.I had to force myself to single-tasking. Briefcase. Get.In the dumpster. Does it stink? Fuck it.

He leaned over the dirty side.He twisted his arm in some kind of slime.Grabbed the briefcase. And now run home! Everyone's home.

Entrance. Ladder. Apartment keys dropped from trembling hands.His own quiet growl at the disobedient organism.Slow to handle... one lock. Second.

I'm inside! The main thing is not to forget to close.I wanted to slide down the wall to the floor, but I put down my briefcase and rushed to the sink. Wash your hands! Faster.From slime and fighting. Convulsively, to the point of frenzy lather.As if the foam can wash away the memories of once blood-stained hands.But I didn't kill! I'm a fucking designer. Artist

...who once wrote scarlet runes on a stone slab.

Filth!

It took me a while to figure out why the soap foam on my hands was scarlet.I saw when a fat drop from my nose fell on my palm.Then I guessed to look in the mirror.

Bitch

From the sight of a broken nose, it seemed that I had eaten someone.Quickly washed off the foam with water, began to wash hurriedly.Why would I, a moron, do all this?I don't know if it's possible to plug my nose with cotton wool or not, but I did, so as not to dirty the floors of the apartment.I didn't sit down, I didn't rest, because it seemed that I would pass out on nerves for several hours.

Got busy with the coffee maker.While she was grinding grains, I laid out the purchased computer parts on the table.They all look intact. I'll be installing it soon.It is necessary to replace the previous boards with new ones.With the past ones, I didn't have enough RAM and graphics to create what I want.And I'm not an idiot to deprive myself of a potential future because of a lame iron that I didn't manage to replace with a better one in time.