In the name of freedom

Prologue

Cheap soap operas were being played on TV again. From hour to hour, persistently flooding prime time, stuffing, thrusting gum into the brains of citizens. To create the illusion of everyday life for them. As always, the shops were working, as always, the neighbor behind the wall was yelling at her little daughter, dressing her for school. As always, the youngster screamed and sobbed that she was forbidden to take her favorite toy with her. Considering this problem to be the most pressing in her narrow but personal Universe. Sleepy car drivers outside the window woke each other up with hysterical horns at traffic lights. Cleaners in offices, before the arrival of the bulk, considered themselves masters of territories. Saleswomen were opening the bars of stores. Silent puppets in autumn wet coats were crammed into public transport.

Only the scavengers cleaned out the boxes of computer equipment and mnemovisors from the tanks, and the janitors counted the number of glowing windows at night. If the light was on for several nights in a row, then a manager with a security guard was called to the apartment under the protocol. And almost always after that, a rotten corpse was taken out of there.

The people are dying more and more every week. And on TV, without raising a panic, they played endless series. The government stubbornly remained silent, but social networks were torn apart like a public toilet by weeds. The information Control Service could not cope with the flow of bugs. Forum admins were threatened with disabling servers. Activists offered to burn down data centers. Street blessed in torn windings waved cardboard stubs with calls to save the nation and live without electricity. Only computer hardware companies remained neutral, greedily raising prices in the last month and sharply raising salaries for all employees.The ideological youth tried, of course, to arrange armed attacks on the counters, but the companies also paid security guards. Why each service center began to resemble a guarded entrance to a bank vault.

They tried to keep the hysterics of the electronic world under control, but it still made its way into everyday life with juicy plops of growing shit.

Then a neighbor mother found a leaflet with a promo code for a virtual link thrown at her daughter.Then the elderly bus driver did not come out to replace him.Then another broken store gaped with empty shelves in the morning.And at the entrance of the neighboring house, the wrapped body was loaded into the ambulance again on a gurney.

The people now looked with predatory eyes at everyone who had a pinkish trace of a mnemovisor printed on their temples.Suddenly he will drown in the virtual next, and one day his body will stink all over the entrance.Anonymous forums even began to offer services for renting rooms under supervision for rent.With timely sanitation, complete isolation, and removal of the "bio-shell" immediately on the day when the "virtual will transfer life".And all because of some minor bug in the process of virtual immersion, some users lost consciousness, and then doctors recorded a complete cessation of brain activity.

For a long time, people blamed mnemovisor devices and overloads that affected the human visual-brain center.A wave of growing scandals tried to protect young people and cancel the use of massive helmets with screens.Doctors hastily began to study the effects of radiation on the brain.Hundreds of threats and demands were showered on monopolist companies to isolate defective batches of mnemovisors.However, the wave of hysteria did not have time to flood the companies, as players began to die even without helmets just in front of the monitor screen.

A new stage of panic and investigations has begun. Employees in the field of information technology have made the assumption that it is not technology that kills people, but a certain program.The difficulty of finding out was that the data on the last days of the computer's operation was burned, as if taking all traces and evidence with the person.

The history of the world has taken a new path.

Groups of volunteers were hired under the supervision of doctors. Centers for communication with the population and receiving calls were created.The investigation took into account any indicators of witnesses, while the best scientists, with the assistance of investigators in the field of information technology, decided to look for a killer program.It was interesting.They even came to the conclusion that a special frequency of visualization and graphics with a hidden frame can cause a person to overload the brain and simply turn it off.So there was a theory that the mysterious killer program is a computer game.

Office clerks and cinema lovers with virtual immersion calmed down a little, because the games do not concern them.And indeed, it soon became clear from a social survey that all the victims somehow liked to have fun in a virtual game sometimes.But then a new question arose in which?The investigation began to compare the dates of the first victims with the release time of the games.But the trouble is, all the world's long-awaited gaming titans did not meet the deadline and turned out to be completely safe.Then unpopular novelties from private developers came under the attention. And by some pure chance, someone and somewhere managed to spy and convey information that the little-known "Aden" turned out to be the killer game.

The young development of the only creator-programmer and designer, whose pseudonym has long been extinct on the world wide web, and the fame from the fans of the game went nowhere. A simple free game that once surfaced on a publicly available resource was first lost in the general mass of individual developments.But, as usually happens, fame overwhelmed the game thanks to the anti-advertising created.

At first, it was believed that the game kills everyone. The number of players was small at that time.A couple of tens of thousands, which is almost nothing compared to the population of the planet."Aden" was tried to be banned, then a global warning was announced on TV, and the administrators of game resources removed the program from their servers.But there are always experimental jerks.Half of the nation used virtual reality!The players who were beaten on the head continued to stick in the system.Others were able to create an archive based on the game installed on their computer and began secretly distributing it for download, assuring of complete safety, because they themselves had been living in this game for years.

In parallel, the information technology department began checking the game for hidden frames.It's hard to say whether they found something harmful to the human brain or not.But the "pure" analogue of the game did not appear on the servers in the public domain.While conversations about the source code occasionally surfaced on anonymous forums about online games.

Some brave players rejoiced that the base servers were dramatically emptied due to the panic of the population and they themselves quickly "divided the zones of influence."Some, on the contrary, howled that there was no tresh now, and "there was simply no one to fight with."The public masses listened. There was a temporary lull, and then

Then the deaths continued.

Because no one, even with the joint efforts of world experts, has been able to isolate and disable the virtual servers of Aden.The work of the specialists was carried out for the public in silence and secrecy, but the mass media service by this moment had raised the popularity of the game to the skies with just one mention.And world fame was provided by social resources.

A few weeks ago, this game was not the top, not the most action-packed.The usual network unhurried strategy.Everyone knew that some unknown author had riveted it fifteen years ago and posted it online without any hope of popularity.Indeed, who in our time needed an economic stratagem with a game of civilization, and even with full immersion?The whole mass of players loved to hack in arenas and break the faces of the enemy faction on the battlefields.Half of them were digging into auctions, crafting everything from armor to threads, and the second was fighting and venting her nerves into the virtual.

Almost no one needed a crappy strategy where they had to think.Almost Until the virtual machine began to issue bugs and kill on it.And the peak of its popularity was the day when some players started the news that they met their old living and healthy homies in the virtual. Who had died in the real world by that day.

The wave was rolling.

There was a moment when the game was really almost destroyed by spreading a virus program under the guise of updating the operating system.On online stores, it was removed from the download several times, but different users returned it to the network.Under the pretext of the memory of the players who have left the world still living there.It so happened that the forums were disabled.Links to the download file were forcibly removed from all popular sites, administrators who allowed the game on their resources were threatened with court.And the network put up an official warning about the danger of "Aden" for life.

Idiots.

There was simply no better advertisement for this small unpresentable game.And the warning of the nation in the news has become the best gaming advertisement in the entire history of mankind in principle!

People poured into the servers like a madman.Links to the download file have turned into one-dayers, flashing like an advertisement thrown in by someone else's hacking.The attendance of dubious corners of the network, where the game still lived, has increased many times.People went to check, to be interested, to tickle their nerves, to get used to... and someone even to live.

Rumors about virtual still living players began to be checked and criticized.The public is divided.In official statements, they shouted about false rumors and killer hackers, and whispered about the truth that virtual dead players told them at the entrances.Farewell messages began to appear on the network, and next to them there is always a postscript with the game coordinates of the personal allotment.The people believed that they would flow there, into the game, for real.He believed that they would start living there!

And soon, after the first dozens of confirmed notes, faith passed, giving way to clear and unconditional knowledge.

The knowledge of the new opportunities that Aden gave spread like an avalanche across the network.Anyone could independently check the "dead".Their friends, on pain of their own death, installed a forbidden game and communicated.Corresponded. They asked and asked personal questions just to make sure that it wasn't all a hoax.Not evil killer hackers and not a fake artificial intelligence.

And it was a miracle when the "other side" still answered.

Mothers cried with happiness, communicating by correspondence with their departed sons.Loving boys and girls hugged their chosen ones, smiling and crying in virtual helmets.The elderly, rejuvenated and healthy, from the virtual environment called to their cities the infirm and old wives who were no longer able to move without a wheelchair.For hundreds of people, these meetings were a miracle, like a magical resurrection.It was all filmed on cameras and posted online as proof.

But most of humanity, led by the authorities, did not believe in it.

Happy relatives were found and interrogated.One by one they disappeared, taken away in cars.But when the world stood on the threshold of such mass confessions and revolutionary discoveries, it became impossible to stop the wave of truth.For a short period, there was a lull in the world again, while the ruling link of humanity was making the hardest decision for itself.

It was a turning point.It was as if the whole world was on pause, waiting for the only statement that was supposed to decide the fate of not only the game, but the entire planet.

Science fiction writers predicted the era of the virtual symbiont.Scientists in technical and biological terms denied any possibility of crossing people on both sides, except for correspondence.Economists have not seen the benefits.The dreamers hoped that humanity would invent cryocapsules for the migration of the mind from the virtual body to the current one.The players themselves claimed that there is no "virtual body", but there is simply a second body, which is not worse, and often better than the first.The ideological ones tried to sum up beautiful words about spiritual rebirth.Others destroyed them with naked physics, and a war of words between scientists and highly spiritual people broke out with renewed vigor.

The world is stuck on the brink of chaos and mass discord.Everyone understood how important the word of the rulers was, and that after one statement the world would change forever.The dissatisfied will remain in any case.The question was only in their number.

But life in and around the Aden did not stop for a minute.Meanwhile, the narrow possibilities of the game began to expand dramatically with mods.Soon the people began to build themselves virtual castles, fantastic flying cities, erect fortresses to the skies and grow winged peoples in them.Players sat on virtual thrones, lined themselves with skyscrapers, built roads and erected citadels with the flick of a finger, for which any romantic fantasies were enough.Each player became the ruler, lord, baron, khan and king of his personal growing limitless zone.

Only the cosmos did not take root in the program.All mods broke during installation and glitched on any attempt to rise above a certain barrier.Whether it was a hidden ban from the developer or the discworld simply did not provide for folding the map into a planet, the players did not know.Then they scored on the development of a global space supplement, sharply weeding out all future potential Star Emperors.Only players devoted to the fantasy and industrial world remained on the servers.

With the infusion of people into the game, deaths naturally became more frequent.No matter how happy the players on the other side were, in the original world, their body was dying.It was hard for students when classmates stopped coming to class.Young people were going through the death of friends very hard.Colleagues in the offices more often cursed the deceased employee, forcibly closing the work holes behind him.Frequent failures began in network resources programmers, engineers and technical support could not cope with the load due to a sharp failure in personnel.There was a series of long system failures, frequent network outages, it became impossible to reach providers, and telecom operators raised prices for connecting to the global web.Ordinary users and neighbors at the entrances began to talk about the problem when virtual equipment stores began to be smashed and robbed under their windows, and the streets were filled with leaflets with barcodes for links.

At that moment, the world government was still silent, weighing the decision for which they had to gather for a general council.Probably, only the phenomenon of alien intelligence could have caused even more excitement, but in the case of Aden, procrastination even in one day cost humanity a massive decrease in employees.

The next wave of quiet panic came to the network with rumors from engineers.

The government quietly tried to force hosting companies to manually disconnect all stratezhka game servers from the network, but ... even on the main world hosting, all efforts were in vain.The game has spread like a virus across the world wide web, supporting itself at the expense of users.And no matter how hard the authorities and monopolists of the gaming industry try, as long as the last computer in the world will work, "Aden" will live.

Even without an official response from the world assembly, the opinion of the rulers became obvious to the public.They wanted to kill the game. "Aden" tried to kill.And together with him, they could kill all the players who crossed over to the other side.After all, no one knew what would happen when the last server went out.Do these people live in virtuality?Or in another full-fledged world, the entrance to which lies through the game?What if, with the pulling out of the last "plug", people themselves, with their own hands, kill hundreds of thousands who have moved to another world?

Humanity, ideologically supporting "Aden", froze in horror.

And our world didn't believe in mysticism anyway.The best programmers were hired to hack the system and break the game, which had already ruined a significant percentage of the population.However, the situation was popularly called a gaming epidemic, and short-sighted residents soon began to fear even their electric kettle.What if the virtual world shocks them and kills them to take them away too

But hacking did not help, but only aggravated the situation.People raised a panic, stores raised prices for video cards, hard drives, and mnemovisors.And soon the situation with the game reached the level of mysticism, when in order to get the game, it was enough to attach a plug to a computer on which the download file was simply stored!The miracle of software distribution has reached an inexplicable level.No one could explain such a phenomenon.Without an obvious download, the game appeared everywhere, having already captured almost every computer. And thenHumanity faced a choice.Or stay in a panicking, pathetic, crumbling world, amid growing superstitions, obscurantism and calls to drive the nation into the medieval age with a kick, or ... take a deep breath, gain determination, remember your dreams and leave to build a civilization, becoming there ... everything you have enough imagination, arrogance and intelligence.

A choice that everyone made independently, under the pressure of public panic and persecution.When any work related to the virtual environment was condemned and subjected to negativity.When the world began to collapse from economic disasters, and there were not enough qualified personnel in the workplace.This choice had to be made under the fear of the world apocalypse, fearing that one day for words about the game you can become a victim of yard gangs.That one day the counters will be empty.And if humanity suddenly decides to disconnect from the network on a massive scale, it will have to accept and adopt a new way of life, radically abandoning the old way of life and habitual work.

It is not difficult to guess what our generation chose.

That's just the transition to another world from the desire of the players soon ceased to depend.Someone built their states in "Aden" for months, polishing every detail and preparing, but remained as always to live in their native world.And someone wore a helmet just to communicate with a friend, but soon died from the game.So there was an opinion that "Aden" takes only the chosen ones, those whom it needs.And then, when their time comes, the players no longer decided their fate.The program did it for them.

And only those who really rummaged through the work of the virtual game and networks really panicked.

It's impossible! You hear, it's im-pos-sib-le, a skinny young man in a lopsided plaid shirt was typing words in a conversation with me.The pile of brown hair resembled a piece of straw after a night shift. The game is not a virus. It doesn't work like a virus.No virus will convert gigabytes of files into a microarchive. We were checking a fresh disk. The amount of occupied memory did not increase upon contact with an infected computer. There are no files there! We checked the connection of the mnemovisor to an infected computer and a clean one. And what do you think!? It's downloaded! But the mnemovisor does not transfer files. There's nothing to transmit. There's not even a memory card there. One video card. Except in it, but in it every cell is accounted for. Everything is at a minimum for the work of the picture.

The young man was sitting at my kitchen table and nervously tapping the tablet pen on its surface. It was infuriating.

Some kind of shit. It doesn't happen that way. We ran into some shit. They say that soon everyone will be forcibly disconnected from the network. In some countries, all virtual stores have already been closed. Private dealers are simply imprisoned. But people solder half-dead mnemovisors even from electronic balls for photos. You know these? For family albums and videos. They figured out how to connect this baida to the network and use it to enter the game. And what do you think?! Works. People are leaving. Just knocks in a real way into the network.

He ran his skinny fingers through his tangled hair and raised tired red eyes.

They say they found a game developer. They raised the logs, turned out to be dead for twelve years. What to do I think more and more that only disconnecting from the network will save everyone. Fuck it, we'll hang out offline sometime. But I will be calm that my little ones will grow up without this madness. I'm not afraid for my job. There are a lot of seats available.

The young man with a sour face gulped down the remains of the coffee offered.It was as if he was offered not a morning favorite drink, but a bitter poison.

In general, I was thinking of going somewhere to the islands. Buy family tickets for a charter flight, dump on resorts. And then settle down there with the ends.Warmth, sea, fresh food. I will engage the children in subsistence farming, I will teach them to farming. It's better to let them stare at the animals than to count the sad faces on the streets. Exactly. I'll do that. Before it's too late. I don't believe it will be better. Places, however, may not already be on the islands, but in any case it is better than in the metropolis.And I'll look after the network there. It will be necessary I will pull out all the sockets in the house with wires.

He started tapping the pen on the table again.How infuriating it was! From lack of sleep.

Just like on the head. On a tired heavy head. However, I do not know how to plant beds. My wife can. And mother-in-law. I don't want to take my mother-in-law, but apparently I will have to. And her sister will have to. And my aunt. And her brother. And then it's my friend. True, he's a nerd, he may not want to. Half of my office is already neurotic nerds. The boss fires you for mentioning the game. And he walks around all the time and wails out loud that there is a complete mess around. There is chaos in the department. There is lawlessness in the world. There is chaos all around. Be-e-useless. He was useless. Be-e

Be-e-e-e

Be-e-e

Bb-be-e-e

And I woke up again to the familiar sounds of fucking cattle.

Be-e-e!

Yes, I hear, I hear!

What could be more familiar than throwing a bundle of soft pillows from under your arm in the direction of the sound.

Be-e!

It didn't help. Who would doubt.A brute... and you can't argue.

Well, what do you want?

I turned over on my other side and stared with one eye at the snow-white goat's face sticking through the curtain of the caravan.

Leave me alone, let me sleep.

The goat persistently beat a sharp pair of hooves on the wooden threshold.With the same nasty monotony as my old friend with a tablet pen in a dream. Oh, you infection

As if hearing my thoughts, the goat cheekily yawned in its fanged mouth.The ears are apart, a double row of biters warmed up in motion, the cheeks were stirred with chewing gum, and the pink forked tongue arched.

He knows how annoying it is to me, and he's showing off anyway.

The mouth slammed shut with a quiet slurp, closing all the mandibles into an ordinary muzzle.Only the look of the scarlet eyes with a black cross-shaped pupil continued to squint at me with obvious malice.

I created it on my own head.Low-level goat, agriculturalWell, at least these "levels" are not demonstrated here.Only the term from the moment of creation can be found out.But only that he will give.

Well let me sleep, I begged.

The goat tapped its hoof again.And then the canvas of the door of the colorful caravan jerked open.

In the light of the morning sky, a tall, dark-skinned man was formed, with the body kit of a militant highlander.Leather clothes with white fur on the edge, a sling with a saber, greasy gloves, a dirty tuft of tail on the back of the head, a tank top that emphasizes the relief of muscles and an absolutely idiotic white smear of a fingerprint across the face.Type designation of military status.

Wake up, chamshire! The sentries reported

I told you that nickname pisses me off, I grumbled from under a fluffy goat-fur blanket.

The man guffawed and proudly puffed out his chest.

He called himself that!

I was tired and typed the first thing that came into my head, I opened the door sleepily.

But we are cheerful!,the head of the patrol squad put his hands on his hips and lowered the pathos.In general, the leader, the prince of the neighboring state has finally reached you.Less than a week has passed since I found the right path! The guys and I thought that since he owes you money, we will accompany him at the end of the way. Well, so that the goats don't devour

Yes, well done, we decided correctly, I answered, reluctantly bringing myself to a sitting position.Once they came to wake me up, then I have about two hours to swing and bring myself into the proper form.

The man looked at me without turning away and without leaving the threshold of the caravan.I had enough brains to create such an unprincipled people.It's useless to drive him, even as the nurse will make sure that I put everything on myself and did not forget any details of the uniform.

Caring!

Hey, Chief

I have a name, I muttered, pulling a colorful shirt over my head.It is useless to look at warriors stripped in armor they are not cold even in snowy areas in the mountains.I just know that in the morning I'll get drunk in the fresh air.

Hey, Sorin, the patroller corrected himself in a completely calm voice. What's so gloomy? Again?

Again," I nodded, jumping on the mattress and putting myself into thick windproof pants.

I was dreaming about the past again.An old life in a world that I have already lost the habit of calling my own."Past" and past. I tried to forget it as an unsuccessful boring dream, but the memories sometimes came back.Entrances, smoky stops, a network epidemic and a viscous panic of the nation, killing brains better than any virtual.

Can I give you milk tinctures? The guys are brewing turquoise flowers on it. They say it soothes, the man leaned over to the edge of my mattress and threw a heavy boot closer.

So that I don't sleep all night, but the whole day?, I grumbled, putting on my shoes and tightening my fur leggings.

You'll sleep like a kutsak!, the lookout grinned widely. Quietly, without dreams, not enough.

And piss yourself off from the cut?, I asked venomously.

The guys tried, all in a bunch!

I looked doubtfully at my evil babysitter.

Firstly, I did your body so that it even digested the poisonous moonlight, so you are not an indicator to me. And secondly, I got to my feet and took on a heavy fur status cloak. don't blurt out such expressions to anyone.

What's the big deal? the man spread his hands. Everything is in a bundle, everything is like clockwork, everything is fire! Come to the shaman for the night, he will burn you with a bunch of smoky, and smear you with oil, and consecrate you with fire. Who will believe us mountaineers that everything is not literal!

I shook my head in unconvincing reproach.After all, I made some cool people.They will not be lost.

When will the prince appear there?, I asked, putting on a shaggy hat with sharp semicircular horns and pulling up my invariable metal beads on a strap.

Yes, as soon as you're ready, I'll give my signal, they'll take him out of the loop of trails in half an hour. And so at least half a day can drive there.

Sadists," I replied phlegmatically, clinging to my belt the only richly decorated accessory in the village.A pointless curved saber with a cut of scarlet stones on the pommel.Just like the color of goat's eyes.

You taught me," the lookout replied, handing me a bundle of breakfast.Probably with selected cheese, fresh tortilla, which warmed through the fabric.The flask was served separately.

He remembers that I asked for an open-air breakfast in the morning.

Sometimes I like the exotic. Like today.

I got out of the caravan with my hands busy and stretched quite, savorily.My entire allotment met me without changing in any way.The lush green plateau was painted in several spots by small groups of grazing goats.A couple dozen caravans with red domes, jingling in the wind with a small ritual fringe.Motley fabrics fluttered with flags and decorative canvases on strong ties made of bent wood.Some residents, with whom I crossed eyes, nodded to me in greeting from afar.And the predatory goat gently butted in the thigh.It's been a while since I've surfaced.The people had time to miss their leader.Even the cattle happily clung, recognizing their creator.

We need to get up more often.I stayed too long in the caves.Administration, urban planning, work on charming with storage devices is all cool, no doubt.My scumbags perfectly assimilated both in the foothill capital and in decorative caravans.But sometimes you have to remind yourself how to hold a mug.My mountaineers even like to play wild tribes.

Filth. And at home, the hydroponics is idle.The wiring of the elevator to the lower tiers had to be postponed because of this tsar.The guys themselves will not go down, I reconfigured the touch panel of the drill so that they would not try for my absence.Otherwise I know them. You'll leave, then you'll come back, and they've already finalized the fortification shield, and they're cutting through kilometer-long corridors on gliders.

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.

The coffee maker gurgled, pumping my coffee into a mug. Now I can take a short break. Coffee is a ritual. Pause. Setting up for a new stage of work. Taste meditation before a long visit to a difficult project. It's a pity that the mug ended almost imperceptibly.

Will Hoona call the security guards? Don't know.Rather, he will complain to his friends. Or he will call, but with what presentation? What did he think he saw there? So they won't come because of this. There's too much work to do. The patrols are all loaded. Rather, Huna and her friends will appear at my door. But then I'll call the security service. Because I'm a designer, I need iron to work, and these gifted people thought who knows what!

The plan was so-so, but I couldn't think of more. My computer was waiting for me.

The assembly took a couple of hours. With all the preparations, saving backup files, installing drivers, checking compatibility. The decisive moment came when I was checking the work of the game designer and the rendering speed.

Does not slow down! Great

And now let's have some fun.

I clapped my hands, gathering my thoughts, but the sound abruptly knocked me out of the mood when one nasty thought whistled through my head. Namely, what will I do if the game does not accept me? That's something I hadn't thought of. I spent all my savings on iron, naively deciding that What? Will I press the button and my consciousness will be dragged into the "Aden"? Yes, of course! I'm a fucking idiot. I forgot that nothing depends on my desire.

Stop. You can't get to work like that. Just not with this mood! I jerked out of my chair and began pacing my small room. The last stage before the final decision. The last choice. Yes, I bought iron, but it can still be wrapped in work. You can even join a group of hackers who are still trying to break the game.

So what do I want. No, not like that. Who am I? And where will I find my place? On the islands? In the resistance? Or in a new world?

I could weigh the pros and cons for hours. He could inflate himself, tormenting himself with doubts. But I looked at my hands, which had recently been covered in blood from a fight, and I was afraid of becoming a cripple through the fault of such attackers. What if I die from a blow to the head, with my muzzle in a garbage bag?What if they break my back, my arms, or gut my stomach with rebar, just to get me to the hospital? This is no longer public kindness. It's hate. Contempt. And the thirst for harassment over those who, in their opinion, are weaker.

I won't survive here. I just can't. I don't want to respond to the same familiar neighbors with retaliatory violence and fighting. I don't want to prove my right to live here. I do not want I don't want anything. This apocalypse is not for me. I'm afraid to die in it!

Fear pushes for action. Fear pushes you to madness. Being squeezed into a corner, people are often able to change for the sake of their freedom. And now, the adrenaline rush that tickled my nerves again from fear made me stop panicking and rush to work.

Spinning the chair sharply, I collapsed into it, and as if I had started some kind of preparatory ritual. I pulled the keyboard panel closer, started the connection to the network, adjusted the armrests, adjusted the screen to graphic mode. Actions. Small actions, as if I was sitting at the helm of my own spaceship, taking me to a distant other world. When the last stage of preparation was the map of the city I had prepared earlier, called for demonstration.

Like most players, I used to start building the capital on a flat plateau with access to the coastal zone. I'm not a fan of castles, so my cities resembled smeared megacities. It was assumed that I would protect myself from my neighbors with a wall, a border with a patrol, techno and riding aircraft. I will build a fleet, let the people follow the mago-technical path of development, I will feed my equipment with the energy of crystals already scattered by players in the form of deposits around the world.

I thought I could build a perfect city with a population of creators and inventors. But... the words of my engineer friend stopped me in time. Big cities pose a threat.

Megacities are always the safest place for any problem. If some kind of mess starts in the game reality, from war to infection, then every open city is like a target. A lavishly spread tablecloth for any conqueror. Therefore, I kept my first project in reserve, got more powerful hardware and started a new one from scratch.

I called up the developer environment for the player "Aden" on the screen. Icons and sidebars with parameters flashed in front of me, generously supplemented with various mods and plugins. Among them were hundreds of standard sets of different baida to choose from. From castle throne rooms to ship bridges. But the main thing I need now is a simple threedimensional game environment with a flexible ability to "sculpt" the desired objects. I fundamentally don't want to use someone else's standards. If someone managed to design them, then he can just as easily break it.

No way. I'd rather use my brain. Fortunately, nothing is hurrying me yet, and I am able to come up with everything I need myself. I'll go from the opposite. What if we make the habitat as unsuitable and unsightly as possible for others? What if we hide in a place where no one just wants to go? I myself will find where to hide and how to survive. But outside I need a place that will alienate any potential neighbor or invader.

So. Start. Landscape. Let it be a sharp impassable mountain ridge. Shallow valleys. Green foothills. It is worth tweaking the height differences so that they no longer look passable. And also to grind off part of the rocks. Sprinkle large boulders at the foot. No decor. No mountain romance and beautiful views. Untidy, rude, boring, crooked. No passable passes.

My hand with the tablet pen froze over the screen when I decided that the crooked daub was enough. Otherwise it will be too much. The three-dimensional landscape of the mountain range already resembled the killer ridge, in which you can only settle at the very foot, and everything else is meaningless and merciless in terms of surface development. Well, yes, I love mountains! I've always dreamed of living with a view of the ridge.

Further. Weather: from minus fifty degrees on the peaks to plus fifteen at the foot of the mountains.

Nobody likes the cold. Me too. But I'll get dressed!

Precipitation: heavy. Snow, wind, blizzard. Low cloud cover. No airworthy weather. So that no fucking pterodactyl flies by. A kilometer up, and then all the rocks will be covered with an even layer of white snow.

I will have huge supplies of drinking water! Clean, fresh, frozen and always safe. And it is also convenient to cover crystal deposits with snow, if it is possible to form them there. But that's a little later.

No one likes to settle in the mountains. Give everyone plains, roads, small navigable rivers And I will have streams that are outgunned. Just to get my feet wet. And no mountain rafting on boats.

Greenery: grass. Rare bushes, steppe trees in patches. A few variegated berry plants on rare plateaus between rocks. There was not much greenery, but enough for small-scale construction. Still, I don't need to make a wooden fleet out of this forest later, but let it go for small needs.

And now we need to figure out how to settle my people in all this

Mansions don't disappear here. It would look strange. No jerks would live in such a zone in stationary, monolithic mansions. Suddenly the blizzard will descend lower. Suddenly an avalanche will start. Or a mudslide. In the end, I do not rule out seismic activity. Only nomads will be saved in such an environment. And nomads are caravans. Lightweight portable frame houses.

Wow... I, a squeamish and devoted lover of all the benefits of civilization, am building myself... caravans!

The main thing is to finish my plan to the end and not fall off, stopping only on these caravans.

I was a little scared, but I quickly pulled myself together. It's too late to be afraid! We have to work. So, he pulled himself together, took his brains, did not look at the clock. We need to get back to where we left off.

Well. The number of tents: twenty pieces is enough for now. I will multiply three more of the same groups on other plateaus.

Choosing a rounded kibitka tablet from standard models of buildings, I added uniqueness of forms to it with sweeping strokes of the tablet pen. I turned on a random search of the color scheme of warm tones. I downloaded several examples of angular ornaments from the web, mixed, glued, got something of my own. But this is not the main thing.

The main thing is not to get carried away with the bullshit that I will cover the main city with.

So. And what will my potential people do in the eyes of others?

Mining and gathering? Nonsense. Not profitable. Agriculture? Where?.. on the rocks? But cattle breeding is a thought! Exactly. What survives well in the mountains? I remember being conquered by mountain goats at one time. It seems that such a beast will pass everywhere. Not even sheep. They're dumb buggers compared to goats!

I brought a model of an ordinary white goat to the screen and thought, tapping the back end of the pen on my lips.

So, this will be the main visible source of survival. Goats are milk, cheese, cottage cheese and other edible joy. Fur is clothing and material for tents. Horns are objects and weapons.

Weapons?

And what if we strengthen their horns? In the mountains, in theory, there are always predators. I don't want my goats to be eaten by predators!

Stop. If I didn't make predators there, then they won't be there. Is it logical? Yes. But I need predators to control the mountains and attack uninvited guests! But after all, at other times they will eat my

Filth! I don't have time to get carried away and dig into the external biome! That's not what I got in for. I really need to do the underground territory, and I can't think of external predators here. Some fucking goats.

What if

This is my land and my game. My territory. My animals. Then what limits me?

With a lopsided smile, I finished drawing and grew sharp fangs from a three-dimensional goat model. I liked the view. I added another row of teeth. Then he opened his mouth, dug into the settings of the plastic forms. I'm a designer.

Under the pen of the tablet, the goat's mouth turned into mandibles. A row of canines and molars was added inside. There will be omnivores. Outwardly, it is impossible to distinguish from herbivores.

Further. External forms. Predators are usually flexible. So, it is necessary to remove the fat belly of my goats. Smaller intestines. They will eat more meat. And I will cover the flexible structure with fur.

And you can also add a cutting edge on the hooves. For self-defense. Straighten the antelope horns. It will come in handy for an attack.

Keep the weight the same. Strengthen the backbone.

Eyes set up for night vision including. The pupil is wider.Add the possibility of polarization. Improve visibility in bad weather. A heat sensor? Come on!

Strengthen the smell receptors. Snake tongue? Even ironic.

Strengthen the fur. We will make fabrics stronger than nylon

Milk. To leave. How about goats without milk!?

Method of reproduction

I hung up for a while. The shit that I get can only become an even bigger problem in one case.

Method of reproduction: hermaphroditism.

So that if some bastard decides to steal at least one goat from me, then this bastard would run away and multiply in the nearest forest! And then she would have arranged genocide for my neighbor. For it's no good stealing my cattle!

And these goats must also be smart enough not to flood my entire zone in the first place and turn it into one big goat house. Everything is in moderation. Instincts are cool. But the brains should dominate even the instinct of reproduction, being aware of their habitat, the minimum sufficient population size and the possibility of satisfying feeding of each individual.

And they will also need brains to distinguish their own from others. And allow yourself to be stolen, without harm to your health, so that you can then escape and arrange sabotage.

This will be my first and most implicit line of defense... Goats.

No one will suspect the goats. And so that no one would guess that they are reproducible, then I will make the second subspecies larger and a little darker. They will be conditionally males.

But if anyone comes to me in the mountains... I will create a separate black nightmare for them.

I never thought that I would fix the models of black mountain shaggy bulls for wild monsters. There is something predatory and dangerous about this animal. Fascinating and powerful. If you fix the skeleton, then you can hide the real muscle relief behind the fur. And behind the bangs a few extra pairs of eyes.

These creatures will tyrannize over everything they see in the mountains. Guard all mines, ventilation, emergency exits. Everything I can't see through.

The work took time. Not all changes were easy in a couple of strokes. I sculpted my monsters with such interest and dedication, with which I probably have not worked on any project before. I woke up at night.

When I accidentally held my gaze at the window and realized that it had been dark outside for a long time. I don't remember turning on the light. And I didn't go to lunch. The whole full day was taken up by some fucking goats!

I clutched my head in horror when I realized how I had killed time. I told myself not to dig into nonsense! I haven't even started work in the capital, and I

Having saved everything, he sadly left to cook dinner for himself. I'll have to work all night. You can't sleep. The excitement will pass. And a clever thought seems to fall out of my head. While designing the unfortunate hooves and the material of the horns, I managed to come up with the properties of another material. You can't stay away for long. We need to write down the idea.

Piling a heated ration of food into a plate, I ate at the monitor, making hasty theses with a pen and forming a three-dimensional blank into the archive of the future project.

The metal is dark, oily gray. It has the properties of a crystal lattice. Capable of growth. It is difficult to melt. Low thermal conductivity. Low electrical conductivity. High hardness, elasticity. It can be deformed and chipped only when exposed to the force of a certain polarization ... in other words, magic.

Does not oxidize, does not corrode.

Stop. It's all nonsense.

The main thing is different. Metal is materialized energy. Its effects on any other type of energy are enormous. It doesn't matter what gets in his way. Wood, other metal, polymer it will cut through everything. Not at the expense of sharpness and molecular sharpening. I need a substance that will retain its cutting properties, even remaining just a sharp sawn crystal.

I think I've started to get confused in my desires. I had to divide the properties and the principle of action into two columns of theses and form a request for several types of substances. As a result of the work, I received three groups.

One substance is quite plastic and easily amenable to forging.But only once. Its durability was colossal.The substance could, over time and under the influence of magic, restore its structure to the basis that it grasped after solidification. In other words, it had the property of molecular memory.

The second substance, on the contrary, is fluid and light, has not yet experienced the effects of magic. After that, it changed its property, became elastic, durable and practically indestructible.

And the third substance... It cut through everything. By affecting the very essence of game items, it invaded their code structure and directly affected the energy. It broke the integrity to the depth of the basic properties. It could wound the shell, while scratching even the fragile information stuffing. That is, the soul. It would leave heavy damage on everything, making both mobs and players powerless in front of it.You cannot re-enter the game or update your skin. It is impossible to restart from the base zone and heal the damage. The wound inflicted by this metal will heal slowly, as in ordinary life, and first aid kits and healing spells will not help from it.

A kind of virus? No. Cheat code? I don't think. The game allows such things. It gives players the right to shape the landscape and attack a neighbor. The captured zones are transferred by right of the winner. So what prevents you from creating weapons that will pose a real threat not just to mobs on the territory, but also to players?

They will have to be afraid of something. We will have to be afraid. Otherwise, having grown up on permissiveness, we will not have a natural stopper, and our new life will turn into a series of eternal wars and useless pitching. As far as I know, it has almost turned. Old-timers in "Aden" try newcomers for resilience and imagination. They arrange small raids and bite a neighbor if he is too deep into his personal life. Well-being behind someone else's fence does not please everyone, and even now the game is shaken by short wars of conquest. Fortunately, this is still only a training competition, because players do not die. They are reborn on bases, gain new strength, call up troops and win back their cities.

While "Aden" is being watched from our world, the players show a beautiful and joyful picture here. A peaceful and prosperous oasis of fantasy and dreams come true. Yes, only the same people who lived in our neighborhood are playing the game. And I don't believe, I just don't believe that one day they won't fight each other out of spite or for the sake of self-assertion. In this way, someone will definitely want to attack me. And what I'm going to build, I don't want to give into the wrong hands under any circumstances. Whether there will be a rebirth on the base or not. It is necessary to play and prepare as if the whole mode is the most difficult level with one life and no right to make mistakes. Otherwise, permissiveness will corrupt and can give rise to a lot of follies worse than just killing the enemy.

In this case, only the fear of real death will stimulate someone else's sanity and unwillingness to attack me. That's why I need such a weapon. And also, if something in the game becomes a threat to me, I will be able to protect myself. I myself, personally. Even if, for some reason, my protectors are not around. Only I, as a player, will always remain a figure more deadly and influential than any mobs. My future army, even armed with such terrible blades, will always remain only a game mechanic, subject to strict, albeit flexible, laws of the reviving world. I have to be prepared for the fact that they probably won't be able to do much harm to another player. Grab, catch, rob, roll back in force yes. But not

I looked at the result of my research and was horrified. After all, I am naturally preparing for survival in the "Aden" and the war.I'm not going to start it. I don't need it for nothing. But I seriously intend to survive at any cost and win back my freedom.

It remains to translate all this into a game.

I am familiar with the principle of operation of each group of metals. From somewhere in my head, details of such strange properties sometimes surfaced. Outside the window, it began to light up when I entered the parameters of substances into the table. It's good that the game was not outraged because of the wildness and impossibility of the given material. I know it's possible. I've seen this! And I don't give a fuck how the game world turns out so that I get it.

Closing my eyes, I imagined the shapes of growing colored druze, the coolness of a liquid stream flowing through the crevices between the stones. I saw the brilliance of the spring's sub-mountain crystals and knew that these stones would form on the edges of the most valuable ugly substance. Angular, broken, growing in places like a smoky dirty druze. If anyone sees this picture, they will greedily chip away at the surface energy colored crystals. Someone may spread rumors that I live on these shimmering power stones. But in fact In fact, it may turn out that there is nothing more valuable in that world than that dusty black piece of substance on which luxurious druzes bloom.

I am sure there will be few geologists in our world. And even fewer professional gemologists and chemists to assess this shit and its strangeness by eye. Ordinary players, as a rule, see value only in a flashy coloring or a bright shine. They won't bite the cobblestone. And if I trade metal, then I will not allow rumors about its real, unprocessed appearance.

Outside the window, the bright sun began to shine in my eye.

A day has passed since the work. And I haven't even started work on the capital!

I didn't feel like sleeping. I was getting excited.

However, I was somewhat afraid of sleep. Considering that I shouldn't switch off until I finish the job.

A quick breakfast. A break to clean up. An invigorating shower. I wanted to eat badly, and I cooked myself a quick bagged meal again. Such a regime will kill the body, I know, but this is a natural payment for work, after which, apparently, I will fall off to sleep for a day.

I drew the capital loving. Not the caravans that I made in a couple of strokes. And that huge city that I was laying under the thickness of my rocks. Several implicit descents down.Power elevators, lifts for equipment, ventilation. No fucking single doors. If trouble happens down there, we should have available escape routes. Everything is hidden in the snow outside.

Tiers, tiers, tiers... corridors, passages, wide spans and tall halls. Comfortable dwellings, video panels on the walls, imitating windows. No closed bunkers and the effect of a stone barrel. I may be paranoid, but I don't like caves! However, I'm going to live in a cave. But so that the view pleases me.

Light crystals on the high ceiling. I will have the effect of sunlight. Lots of greenery below. Gardens, parks, hydroponics, inland lakes, and even inland hills covered with wild vegetation. I will have a normal full-fledged biome underground. It is on this biome that the main windows will go out.

Heating due to thermal springs. Below lava channels. It should be luxurious! And no, it won't float. No, it won't be hot. My state needs a lot of territory, within which it will have to maintain an adequate habitat. But without the cold and spontaneous blizzards! The lava output will be controlled, and its temperature will be regulated by power crystals.

Farther. Infrastructure.

Own autonomous social network. Everything related to education, schools, professional institutions. There will be an opportunity, there will be a download of information from our network. Enough for initial development. I can't upload our entire global network to the game, but the game lives in this network. How do I upload information? Don't know. We'll put it off for later.

Transport. Both riding and power on crystals. Other players have made many models of gliders, levitating cars, trains and ships. It's stupid not to use it. In the mines where metal or crystals will be mined, I will establish an engineering system of trolleys. So that extra magic does not resonate with open deposits.

Economy. The game adopted a conditional currency, but with the advent of a large number of players, all early "gold" reserves lose value. Officially, I will sell goat cheese and fur. Not officially I have mines. There is a self-sufficiency system and commodity-energy exchange inside the city.

All banks, exchanges, fairs, exchanges and marketing are only for trading with the outside world. Inside the state, with full prosperity and a life similar to a huge expansion ark, it is not necessary for nothing.

Military infrastructure... a fully armed and military-trained population. No circles and sections. The training is exclusively professional. According to the capabilities of each individual.

Production is aimed at fully providing the people with everything necessary for life. It is advisable to do without purchasing on the side. Therefore, it is necessary to design all possible deposits in the underground zone. They will give me industry, polymers, machinery, and everyday life.

Medicine

But for this, first I have to think over the average ideal indicators of my species. Man, it's cool, but even people have differences in health and stamina across nations. Someone is better adapted to the cold, someone to the heat. Others are immune to half of the bacteria that kill others. Well, still others just live longer than the previous ones. In general, you need to design your appearance from scratch as well, but take a standard human model for the appearance.I want them to be like goats they don't look interesting to others. I know that some players have even moved away from the usual human models and surrounded themselves with furry or lizard-like relatives. I don't want that. It's too noticeable. Too recognizable. But if you tweak at least one parameter in a person's genetics, and it already becomes not a fucking person.

The first is the average life expectancy. So Is it even necessary? Let them live until they die. They will multiply and spread out in breadth along the tiers. My mountains are big.

The second is the climatic parameters of the ideal environment. From and to And let's make the most of it! It's cold in the mountains, it's hot near the lava.

Wow... the system even accepted this. Let's go further.

Poisons, digestion Don't get your hopes up.Vsesozhruns. And what is not digested will help eliminate the medical wing.

The breeding system. Let it be standard. Hermaphrodite goats are enough. Or maybe go completely on a unique path and make them same-sex? As I dreamed once in a gloomy dream, where a strange separate predatory species got lost secretly on the planet among people, but multiplied at the expense of humanity. It was wild, strange, I woke up with a sore head and a feeling that something was not told to me or I did not understand myself. However, then when I began to deal with sleep out of boredom, I realized that all this does not bother me, contrary to expectation! Biology of this kind fit into my consciousness through my sleep so tightly and naturally that it bypassed all the usual triggers for impossibility due to the permissiveness of sleep. I already know that this is possible. And if I know, I can make it into a game. But then all the players in a row will ask me where my women are, and I will again highlight my people with unnecessary attention. Okay, I'll think about it again. Maybe I'll just make a second look for them.

Although, if the population is completely military-trained What the fuck are women and a bisexual kind? No, not like that. The population should not have a physiologically weak half. No matter how I twist the parameters of the species, but if I stop at bisexual reproduction, then one half will not be able to survive and reproduce without the second. And also one half will be heavily repurposed for reproduction. Therefore, it is dependent on hormonal changes, mood, physical strength, limited dexterity, seasons, external factors And the other "male" half will also go with distortions into the battle for seniority, for the best "female", for territory, for offspring, for leadership. The natural differentiation of the population will begin, and nothing but a rigid culture will save them. And it's easier to break a culture with someone else's mores and a neighboring example. No. You can't do that. The separation of the sexes returns the people to the familiar rails of my native world, and I am not ready to carry them through the stages of our cultural evolution that have already been passed. Not to mention the fact that I just don't like women's tears, snot, sick tantrums, menstruation that is always at the wrong time, sick heads, assholes, heart. Enough already for my immodest years. Then they climbed to communicate themselves, then they suffered and cried over voice communication from lack of attention, then they were jealous of work, and when they were just going to come for unromantic sex, they faced a sore head. I'm sick of it. I don't understand them. Maybe I was unlucky, of course. But I didn't understand my family friends either, and in the end I lost them all.

Well, whatever, in short! Spit. I'm doing two same-sex species for now, and then let it be what it will be. Only one kind should be made prettier, so that they will be taken for women, and there will be no problems. Although, of course, over time, maybe I'll make them a female branch of the species. Yet no one has canceled the aesthetics and visual beauty of the body and female grace. And I love when there are a lot of beautiful and intelligent different faces around. I'm not ready to deal with girls right now. I don't understand them. And if I don't understand, I don't want to spoil it with vulgarity or weakness. Then, when I gain experience, I will decide exactly what I want to invest in them, then I will do it. I don't want template ones. But I don't have time and understanding to think now. After all, I want a diverse people, not a beehive. But there were also such players who literally made their own kind of hive. It's creepy. How is that possible? I don't know. But in terms of reproduction, everything is simple and clear for them.

Oh, yes! Reproduction. No screaming babies in caves! So that the mountains folded inside me or did everything fall asleep with landslides? And if there is still some kind of animal unintended by me formed?! Fuck it. The dungeon path is the path of silence. I don't remember who said it. In total, returning to reproduction, I will make a small-cocoon birth for them with ripening in an external nutrient medium. Eggs are not suitable they will not allow the baby to grow inside the shell. While cocoons will give this opportunity. And with cocoons, the parent himself will be released faster and will enter the system, and the little thing will be able to mature and get stronger to an independent state, so that after hatching he can move and eat small products or meat at once.

...What kind of crazy shit am I doing?!

Farther. Superpowers. What do they need magic for? In short innate magic and the ability to work with energy. We will finish off the specifics with ritualism. And we will collect the skills from the game mechanics. In the end, no one canceled the exploits.

Let's make a random search in the appearance parameters: color and straightness-wavy-curly hair, eyes color, height, weight. But no very skinny and gluttons. Digestion and metabolism will burn all the excess.

Immunity To the maximum. As much as the system allows.

Oh, it allows itself nothing! I want it so much for myself!

And in general, speaking of myself I remembered that in time. Fuck the last avatar! I don't want to appear there as an ordinary short-lived, constantly ill, infirm, suffering from everything from a runny nose to diarrhea. So, the view. It makes sense if I choose the same species that my people are made of. Not for nothing did loving him so much make him so strong and hardy. I can choose such an avatar for myself, right? I can! But I can't imagine myself as that tall, dark-skinned bully from the first invented group. And if I become a kid of the second kind, then the rest of the players will still take me for a girl. Also not an option. Filth. What to choose? Okay, fuck it, I'll tweak the appearance settings so that the face looks boyish, but not as cute as the others. And the height is slightly above their average.

Name. I hate my local name. And if you remove one letter? Sorin. Excellent.

The name of the leader ... yes, the dick knows him! There are no such peoples in the database to choose default ones. Chamyr... no. Chakhyr... also not. Chafyr... what a chifir. Filth! Why is everything on H? Apparently, the caravans and the second day of wakefulness give their own. It's time for me to rest, otherwise I forget half of it and don't have time to think through the consequences. Chamrir... Chamshir Fuck it.

The finger wavered and accidentally pressed the input button on the machine.

What?! Yes, I haven't... your shit... chumshire yet. I accidentally typed. What should I do now, redo everything? Well, whatever. I'd rather be a chamshire. What a shame

It's a shame.

I don't like punctures. Even such small ones.

In frustration, I went to make myself lunch. While I was cooking, I sadly noted the onset of evening. There was still no less work to do. Calculate the biome, think over vegetation in hydroponics, identify places and filling of livestock farms. Natural enemies, again, are usually found in caves. We need to think about the defense system, the starting number of the nation.

While brewing a cup of tea, I thought I should leave a message on the forum. They will track the game address there. If everything works out. Or maybe it won't work out, and I'll hang out here. I also thought that I was stupid and didn't think about my personal life, having got too used to a single bachelor life with a designer computer. On the other hand, don't you give a fuck? As I have lived, so I will. It was not enough to plan your future personal life. Although the girls wrote how they drew princes and kings for themselves. They're funny. Girls. I've never heard of any of the boys drawing a queen or a wife in advance. Mistresses, yes. And immediately more. And so that the choice was in the mood. Or fighting friends! And so that he himself was a superhero and beautiful, like a girl's dream. They are funny So when I'm ready to come up with my ideal women for all this horde, then I'll decide what I want from my personal life. Then I will pick up the character, and I will create a face for my established taste.

Yawning, I grinned, outlined a few more points of the plan for the female type of the species, but now I realized that I wanted to sleep stupidly. Just sleep, not even eat. A plate of food looked at me with tentacle-like pasta, and I tried not to hang out and chew. The spoon rattled on the mug, lulling attention. I just put my hands on the table and put my head on them.

Right now I'll sit for five minutes, and then I'll eat and sleep

The spoon is still clinking

Spoon...

...

Dilin-dilin

Dilin

The wind is whistling outside. Heavy canvases slap against the fabric. Metal bells tinkle under the blows.

Dilin-dilin

And lying so soft and so good. The blanket is warm. The pillow is fluffy. And the ringing of bells is so soothing.

But I don't have bells at home.

I don't even have canvases.

And I don't have such a heavy blanket at home either!

I jumped up in horror, afraid that I had been taken to a mental hospital or a hospital. But instead of a white ward and doctors with syringes, I saw colorful walls of a caravan.

Which

Stumbling, getting tangled in the blanket, I scraped up to the wall of the caravan and threw back the flapping canvas.

...Where a phlegmatic white goat yawned at me from the street with its whole predatory mouth.

I almost shit myself out of fear! How not to yell the dick knows. If that brute had twitched, he would have screamed for sure!

The goat bent down to the grass, pinched a tuft with her lips, bent the edge of a flat leaf, and then with a quick, small jerk she snatched a nimble lizard from the grass and sucked it whole like pasta.

Fucking psychedelic!

I stared in silence while this brute chewed meditatively with a crunch of small bones. The eyes are already squinted with pleasure. Lush white eyelashes and tremble. I was startled by the sound when small hooves stamped on the side and another goat was joyfully galloping towards me. I made a fool of myself and quickly hid in a caravan, forgetting how to deal with predators. The brute rushed to the door at full speed, stuck its horned head in and stretched its muzzle towards me.

Unable to stand it, I still screamed.

And this bastard climbed to lick like a faithful dog! Another one stuck in with her, breathing on me the smell of fresh grass and blood.

Yes, your shit!!!

At my shout, someone ran up to the kibitka, burst into the opening, barked at the goats in a bass voice and dragged both predators away from me by the scruff of their necks.

Hush, chamshire! Quiet.

Are you kidding me

You're safe! You're home!, A big man with the appearance of a mountaineer and in fur leather armor tried to grab me in his arms like a child, but I crawled away from him to the other end of the caravan.

Are you serious, or what

You are on your native land, chamshire!, The man did not pursue me, but raised his hands in a conciliatory manner.Only one goat was shooed back behind the canopy.

Don't call it that,it just came out of my mouth.

The highlander was taken aback.As if something didn't work out for him.

But you called yourself that!, he tried to declare good-naturedly.

I was wrong, I muttered.

The guy thought about it.He turned something over in his head.He appreciated my wild, hunted look, and then asked at random:

Sorin?

Yes.

Well, praise the whole world, you're with us!

He still caught me in a moment of confusion and squeezed me joyfully by the shoulders.As soon as nothing broke.He squeezed all the air out of his lungs!

We've been waiting for you!We were preparing, the marathon was set up, the goats were combed, here is the rookery prepared!

What the fuck goats, what a rookery, I got out of his arms. I shouldn't have

Looking around, I realized that whatever I didn't want there, everything had already happened.I'm either on the spot or I'm dreaming about it.I don't remember going into the game.I don't remember connecting or putting on a mnemovisor.I remember that I went to cook for myself to eat, and then... just fell asleep at the table?

Filth. Did I turn off the stove at least?I think so.Whether I'm dreaming or not, I turned off the stove.At least, bitch, I did something useful.

But what about the entrance?What about the mnemovisor?Did I have lunch at all or did I dream it all?I haven't slept for almost a day and a half.I could start having glitches, exhaustion, hungry fainting, deep sleep, but I couldn't just die!Not in the right condition and not in the right physical shape.The man looked at me with good-natured sympathy and waited.He has a familiar face.I think I was thinking of someone like that for the role of one of my assistants.

But I didn't manage to upload any of this to the servers!No city! No materials!No infrastructure!

I didn't saved!!!

It seems that my horror has become clear to the man.

Sorin, it's okay, it's okay.

I didn't upload the city

Yes, your city is in place.

I have not scattered a network of resources.

You've scattered everything, we're already working.

I didn't launch

You. Everything. Did.

But the caravan

Well, you didn't make a house for yourself, that's right,the man shrugged his shoulders guiltily.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

Ah, well, yes... the spawn point

Well, at least he appeared on the plateau, and not in the mountains.The goats smelled you first, they called us.

I felt like an idiot.

Goats?

Yes, they guarded you with the whole herd and warmed you until we picked you up.

They survived.

It was only now that I noticed that my arms and torso were not wearing anything.Convulsively lifted the blanket and realized that I was also naked in addition!Fucking bitch shame. What kind of a jerk am I.

And my stones?

Are you talking about these?, the man grinned contentedly and handed me the uncut, primordial metal chips lovingly collected on a leather strap. In the center of the artisanal composition hung one rather large, finger-sized block of natural stone of a familiar dirty black color.

I stared at the beads in fascination until they brought them closer to me.

Take it, it's for you. We have collected the best. The first one!

Thank you.

I picked up the shoelace, expecting it to feel heavy in my hand, but all the elements in it turned out to be light. Perfectly adjusted in weight, comfortably worn on a drawstring. Thoughtfully twirling the gift in my hand, I slowly and meditatively wrapped it around my palm. That's a nice thing. It fits snugly, without prickling or aching on the fingers. Smooth segments fall on bones, and sharp cutting edges of metal stand up like spikes on improvised... weapons.

You like it, don't you? the satisfied man asked.

Yes I slowly unwound the strap and tied the jewelry in a loose knot around my neck. Interesting skills that I didn't know before.

What name should I call you by?

The Nexar. Call me Nex for short. And anyway, let's go show you the city!

I was taken aback again.

What, just like that? I pointed to the blanketcovered body.

Nex silently pointed to the pile of cloth next to my bed. I felt awkward again. But it only got worse when I lifted the edge of the garment with my finger. Then, doubtfully, he stretched it with his other hand.

Is it outerwear? I asked hopefully.

No.

T-shirt?

No.

Pants?..

Nex furrowed his brows sympathetically. The guy seemed touched.

How do I put it on? I asked gloomily, burning with shame because of my stupidity.

If you'll let me, I'll help. The big guy replied without a trace of emotion and irony. Somehow I had to put up with it. If I'm going to get here, I'll have to study the place I'm in for the first time.