Project Daily Grind (Mirror World Book #1) (22 page)

“There’s something you need to know. Reflex Bank isn’t just a money-shifting machine.”

I hurried to wipe my glasses. “Tell me.”

“To put it short, they do loans too,” Dmitry said. “Just don’t hold your breath. At the moment, you can forget it. Both your account type and the narrow time frame are against you. But, say, in a year’s time...”

I tensed like a greyhound. Dmitry must have sensed what I was feeling.

“Look at him,” he said mockingly. “Never mind. I’ll explain it now. The bank where you keep your in-game currency is indeed only a cash dispenser with a few very basic functions. That’s all it is. If you want something more sophisticated, you need to address yourself to their head office in Mellenville—Mirror World’s capital city. I’m not sure if you know but low-level players aren’t even allowed within its city limits. But you’ve already sorted that problem out for yourself. When I realized it, I immediately thought about Reflex Bank.”

“Wait a sec,” I said. “This doesn’t add up, does it? An in-game bank capable of giving out wads of Monopoly money which you can then exchange for the real thing? That’s bullshit.”

“It would have been—had it not been for one peculiar detail. Reflex Bank is a baby of some five or six—can’t remember the exact number now—of the world’s biggest banks. When receiving an in-game loan, you choose one of them as your creditor.”

“So the money
is
real.”

“Of course. Basically, you’re signing a loan agreement with a proper bank, only you do it in Mirror World. If later you quit the game for some reason, you’re still under the same obligation to pay the money back in real life.”

“Hm,” I murmured. “The question is, where’s the catch? Would I be correct in suggesting that in order to get a loan, I first need to earn a certain reputation? Is that right?”

He nodded. “Exactly. And not only that. There’s a number of conditions you’re supposed to meet, otherwise they won’t even talk to you.”

“Which are?”

“An extended immersion without logging out for at least a month, for starters.”

I whistled in astonishment.

“If you do log out, you’ll have to start it all over again. Next thing. All these employer-paid communal modules won’t cut it anymore. You’ll have to shell out for a state-of-the-art capsule and medical support. It’s not as expensive as you might think, but still. Plus your own health, of course. Having said that, an Experienced Digger’s gear can keep the player in the game for even longer periods.”

“That’s not all, is it?”

“Oh, no. Far from it. They won’t even talk to you in the bank unless you have a registered Mellenville address. Normally, a player can just come and live there, no red tape involved. But
you
must have one. You can’t afford to buy a place, that little is clear. So you’ll either have to rent a room or stay at a hotel. And to have your address registered, the property owner has to sign for you. If ever you decide to go that route, you won’t get bored, that’s for sure.”

“Why all this song and dance?”

“The city’s reputation. The higher your own reputation, the more opportunities you’ll have all around the city. And that means at the bank too. You’ll be obliged to do certain tasks and quests—some simple, others quite complex. You can go and check the forums to see what everyone has to say about Mellenville. Just don’t expect to find any answers.

“Why so?”

“There’re no guidebooks on Mellenville. All the quests are individual and random. And one more thing. You really need to be on your best behavior there. Mellenville is an NPC city.”

“What city?”

“A city controlled by Non-Player Characters. Artificial Intellects. Robots, if the word can help you grasp the concept.

“I see,” I suppressed a yawn.

“Just don’t think you’ll be greeted by some primitive pieces of scrap metal. Right,” Dmitry slapped his shoulders and clambered to his feet, looking tired. “More on this tomorrow. Beddy-byes time. What a day! Try to get some rest now. The bedding’s in the wardrobe. The couch is quite comfortable. I’ve slept here on a number of occasions. I still have a few phone calls to make.”

“Thanks, Dmitry. No idea what I’d have done without you.”

He waved my words away and added in a rough voice, “Off to bed now... escape artist.”

Chapter Twenty-One

S
urprisingly, I slept like a baby that night. This is probably what happens to everyone who’s just made a life-changing decision like I had.

I was going to do the extended immersion thing. Sveta hadn’t liked the idea at all. Still, when I’d laid all the pros in front of her, she’d finally given in—but only because she had no idea of my last-night’s adventures. Dmitry, on the contrary, accepted my decision. I even got the impression he’d expected it from the start.

My move to the new module center was nothing to write home about. I’d been living out of a suitcase for the last few years anyway so I’d become quite immune to that sort of thing. A month’s subscription had put me back thirteen hundred bucks. More expenses—but at least I hoped it was worth it. Thank God I had money on my account! Between the ten grand transferred by Rrhorgus, all my starting money and whatever I’d earned in the last week, I hadn’t had to borrow from my brother.

By the way, Flint had managed to declare their last haul. As a result, I’d earned six hundred gold from that instance. Excellent. All because we’d had lots of bonus crystals that day.

I really didn’t want to part with the guys. They were a good team. Dmitry had told me they’d found another employer, somewhere closer to the frontier with the Darkies. Apparently, Flint and Co. had filed an official complaint against Slayer. Shantarsky pretended he’d known nothing about the Wild West nature of the situation in his cluster and had publicly kicked Slayer out of the clan. That was the end of it.

Apparently, Flint hadn’t had a chance to delete me from the group. Slayer had done his best to stop them too. By the time they’d got their act together, I was already engaged in combat while Flint stood by the entrance to the grotto trying to disband the group. Imagine his surprise when I dropped out of the instance, then quit the game!

I just hoped he understood enough to keep his mouth shut. At some later date, we might meet up and discuss it all. But not now.

Admittedly I couldn’t even remember how I’d quit the game. It was irrelevant, anyway. I had other things to worry about. My main objective was to raise a hundred and eighty-five grand.

Time to start all over again. My “extended immersion” was looming. Perusing the multitude of forums and blogs had only added to my confusion. The amount of contradictory and superfluous information on Reflex Bank was mind-boggling. It gave me the impression that seventy percent of it was a clever decoy. It made one thing clear though: it wasn’t going to be easy. Especially for me with my humble Grinder’s account.

But as far as NPCs were concerned, the information on them was pretty clear-cut. The so-called ‘
Glasshouse NPCs
’ were considerably different from their counterparts in other computer games. Mirror World’s developers had created a special program called A Mirror Soul. This was a truly grandiose concept that allowed the Non-Player Characters to go far beyond their usual “emotion imitation” stuff. Instead of just generating joy, pleasure or fear, these NPCs could express their own attitude toward the situation and their role within it. Basically, a Mirror Soul was nothing other than a high tech clone of the human mind.

Jesus. A virtual world. A virtual mind. The more I learned about this place, the less comfortable I felt. I had a hunch that something had changed—that the world had moved on while I was lagging behind, choking on the dust raised by the avant-garde.

* * *

“Are you ready?” my brother asked me.

“Yeah,” I nodded, suspended in the jelly-like substance.

Now more than ever he reminded me of Dad. I’d been eight at the time; Dad had taught me to ride a bike. The same emotionless face and the same vivid eyes filled with care and concern.

“Make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

I grinned. “Will do my best.”

“Good luck, then!”

“Likewise.”

Noiselessly the lid of my “coffin” slid shut. I found myself in the familiar pitch darkness. A piercing light assaulted my eyes. I was back in Mirror World.

A large 3D inscription hovered before my eyes,

Greetings, Olgerd! Welcome to Mirror World!

Please choose your entry point.

I stared at a list of some fifty major towns within Mirror World’s realm of Light, supplied courtesy of the game’s administration. I suppressed a sarcastic chuckle. How very nice. Freakin’ do-gooders. It’s the thought that counts, anyway.

I chose
The Outskirts of Verdaille City
. Leuton was more or less off limits for me now.

I heaved a sigh. That was it. I was in it for a month. No way back.

I was standing with my back to a forest, facing a neat corn field. The clock showed 7 a.m. The sun was just kissing the horizon.

I turned around. The forest was still dark and damp. The moist grass felt cold on my bare feet. Oh. I’d love to know who was wearing my boots now. They must have already flogged them for a nice bit of profit, as well as the gloves. What a shame.

Never mind. Once I got to the nearest city shop and compared their prices with the auction, I could kit myself out again.

Oh, before I forgot. I opened my Friends list. Nobody online yet.

Would you like to delete yourself from your Friends list?

Sure. This way they’d have no way of locating me. Sorry, Rrhorgus, Greg and Sandra. It was for your own good. Seeing me now wasn’t a healthy idea: you were still in Shantarsky’s employment. One day we might meet up and discuss it all over a nice long drink. At least I hoped we might.

Now, the clothes. Oh. That Steel Widow had done a nice job on me. My damaged gear was worth jack shit now. But what could I do? It was a good thing I still had something to wear.

Wait a sec. What was that now? How could I have ever forgotten? Actually, no wonder. I’d been too busy thinking of other things.

The Apps tab was blinking orange. Let’s have a look.

Would you like to install the Der Swyor app suite?

Oh, no. No need to rush. A new surprise from Pierrot was the last thing I needed right now. Later, all later.

I’d completely forgotten all about the clan’s ring and the app that came with it. What a shame. I couldn’t even pick Dmitry’s brains on the subject now. Actually, I hadn’t asked anyone’s advice before downloading the file, had I? So it was only fair I had to use my own head. I was still kicking myself for having stayed behind in the cave that day instead of leaving with the rest of the group.

“Never mind,” I mumbled. “Time to get going. I have lots to do still.”

I walked along the road past golden corn fields, watching the farmers heading off to work. They all smiled. I could hear them joking. The air rang with women’s laughter. Someone had already got down to work, singing. For a brief moment I had the illusion I was back in my childhood home, standing amid the boundless corn fields of Ukraine. I could almost hear the voice of Grandpa Stephan asking me to fetch him some water.

I shook my head free of the unwelcome memories and squinted at the workers for a better look, making out the pointy ears of Alven women and the Dwandes’ impressive fangs.

The loss of my boots and gloves hadn’t affected my mood that much. My speed hadn’t dropped. Even incomplete, the Seasoned Digger’s gear set allowed you to comfortably travel the vast expanses of this world. I remembered the trials and tribulations of my first-day journey. That had been a feat!

After fifteen minutes of brisk walking, I checked my Energy levels. I’d only spent 20 pt. Excellent! That was a drop in the ocean. And if I set the bot to economy mode, I wouldn’t even need to check it: it would restore Energy levels automatically.

I could see the city walls from far away. Verdaille, if the truth were known, was just another one-horse town. Same as Leuton really, only with a bigger population and three times as many mines.

The Outskirts of Verdaille City
was a location controlled by the Steel Shirts clan. Or, to be more precise, it was Lady Melorie’s domain—the clan leader’s wife’s. Even if you disregarded her high standing, The Lady of Storms was a very influential figure in Mirror World. A level 270-wizard, she obviously wasn’t the kind of woman to indulge in needlework in the safety of her own castle.

Once again I congratulated myself on my choice of seigneur. It meant safety for me too. She wouldn’t even know I was there. The less I stuck my neck out, the better. I had to level up my skill first, and then we’d see.

The city gates were pretty crowded. I’d never seen so many people in one place here before. The air hummed with voices. My eyes watered from all the loud colors and the glittering of armor. Domestic animals crowded the road: horses of every race and size, clumsy cows and bleating sheep. I noticed quite a few identical carts, heavy and unyielding—apparently standard-issue transportation. I focused on one of them.

Name: Wooden Cart

Durability:
3554/5000

Restriction: Requires the Slow Coach skill.

“Eh, she’s not as she used to be,” the driver said, noticing my interest in his vehicle. “I’m gonna get her some new wheels at the market and add a few points to the shaft, then you won’t know her! She’ll roll off the road like some freakin’ Mercedes, by God! Only I need to sell my beasties first.”

“Good morning,” I hurried to greet him.

“Same to you,” the man answered. He spoke almost in a singsong, with a soft and melodious Ukrainian accent. I glanced at his tag.
Zachary
.

I did a quick check on him. A Daily Grinder like myself. A Farmer. Race: Human. Level: Prosperous. From what I remembered, it was equal to Seasoned Digger. Did I have access to the driving skill, I wondered, or was it only available to farmers?

I took a look around me, focusing on every driver. Lots of Farmers among them, but also quite a few Herbalists and Fishermen. Which meant that the skill was available to everyone. I’d have to check it out later. What a shame the game didn’t have Internet access. That would have simplified a whole bunch of things.

“Excuse my asking, dear sir, but what’s actually going on here?” I said, walking next to his slowly advancing cart. “Why all these people?”

“There’s a fair today, isn’t there?” he answered eagerly. “It’s like this every six months.”

I could see he was in the talkative mood. Such long, slow queues usually make one disposed to shoot the breeze.

“I see,” I commented. “How long does it last?”

“The whole week, what do you think?” he grinned back.

The man was positively beaming. He probably hoped to sell his “beasties” for a good profit.

“How are things overall, then?” I asked. “Is it quiet here? Any robbers or highwaymen?”

Zachary shrugged off my suggestion. “Forget it! What would they want with us? The idiot hasn’t been born yet who’d mess around in Lady Mel’s lands! She’d make quick work of any evil-doers.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. This was exactly what I wanted to hear.

Noticing this, Zachary asked sympathetically, “You must have had it rough in other parts of the world.”

With a sad smile I nodded at my feet, “You could say that. Even my boots are gone.”

The farmer threw his hands up in dismay. “What kind of creature is man? You tell me! Always trying to profit from others’ misfortune!”

I sighed. “Sort of.”

“Why won’t you stay here with us?” Zachary suggested. “I can see you’re a Seasoned Digger. We have lots of work for the likes of you. Plenty of mines around.”

I smiled back. “That’s exactly what I’ve come here for. I’d like to make a new start.”

“Good decision. You won’t regret it.”

“Actually,” I asked, “where does one go here to look for work?”

“Well, if it’s the dwarves you want, their office is in the Craftsmen’s Quarter.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, sir. I’d rather apply to Lady Mel. I liked how you spoke about her.”

The farmer beamed like a newly-minted gold coin, puffing out his cheeks. My compliment had struck the right chord.

“I thought you were going to join your own,” he said. “In this case you need to go to the high street. That’s exactly where I’m heading. Get in, I’ll give you a lift. No good marching barefoot on the cold stone.”

Did he need to ask? A few saved Energy points were always welcome.

Apparently, Zachary must have taken me for a dwarf. Ennans did bear some resemblance to those fabled creatures. He must have glanced me over without bothering to check my tag. A short guy with a beard and a Digger to boot—he had to be a dwarf. I didn’t mind. He'd also called me a Seasoned Digger—probably judging by my clothes. I had yet to get myself some new gear.