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So, for a nominal sum, you could subscribe to two news feeds: one that covered the virtual and the other the real world. The moment I heard about them, I had them both hooked up to my account. I also ordered a couple of books and subscribed to new offers from some of my favorite authors. I was shaking in anticipation of the moment when I hit my bed in the Three Little Pigs, pressing the full screen button and opening the latest bestseller sequel.

Finally, they offered me a choice of ID rings for instant account access. Every ring was personal, bound on equip, with various extras to choose from.

"This is our local handwork," the clerk's voice rang with pride as he handed me the silver ring with a +5 Strength modifier.

Regular players received a plain copper ring with no extras. Only
 
permas were eligible for silver ones. I tried not to think who you had to be to get a gold one. Eric didn't wear his ring in public. Either he belonged to that choice category, or simply didn't want to publicize his perma status.

Problems were waiting at the bank's exit. I was still studying my new ring and only stopped when my head rammed a chainmail shirt. I raised my head. Tavor, the greedy Elf, was squinting at me. I didn't like what I read in his face. During my five days in the slammer, he'd kept leveling and was now 37. He didn't waste his time, did he? Having said that, his money and items could buy him any level he wanted.

Tavor grabbed my shoulder. "So, Drow savior? Fancy seeing you here. Mind following me to the arena? I've got something you might like... not."

I tried to shake his hand off but couldn't. The difference in our strength parameters was quite amazing. I should probably invest more into strength: you never knew when a
 
perma like myself might need it.

Besides, Tavor wasn't alone. Three of his fellow clan members surrounded us and pushed us away from the bank doors. Their actions were quick and smooth—they must have done it a thousand times before. No idea how it all would have ended, had Eric not come out to join us.

"Hey! What's going on here? Get your hands off him, quick."

He rammed through their barrier and shoved the Forest Cats aside. Tavor gave him a moody look studying his level and the Veterans' clan badge.

"Sorry, dude. I'm afraid it's none of your business. The kid owes me. You don't want to interfere."

I struggled myself free. "I owe you nothing. You attacked me first. Then you fucked off and now you're the man? When you've got your hoods with you? Whassup, dude? Can't you manage it on your own?"

Tavor spat at my feet ignoring my challenge. The ring around me drew tighter.

Eric splayed his elbows, pushing my assailants aside. "He's my friend. Enough now. Are you fucking mad, settling your accounts in town? One drop of blood and the place will be crawling with guards. Give it a rest."

Tavor squinted at us, weighing up his chances, then apparently decided not to push his luck. His glance happened upon my ring.

"A perma, are we? Well, well, well. You know what? You're toast."

He turned away and called out to his henchmen, "Come on, guys. He's not going anywhere."

Eric stared after them. "You're good at making enemies, bud. What you really need is to join a clan. A strong one. Lone permas are in for a lot of trouble."

"Problem?"

"You could say so," he mumbled. "Just something people say about them. All of them, not just the Cats, you understand. Keep your eyes peeled now. Watch your back. Practice some invisibility spells. I also suggest you get Crystal Vision and keep it on you at all times. It'll allow you to see stealthers. Never create resurrection points in deserted areas: they might track you down and run you through your own personal hell, a death a minute for a week. They have special guys with unlimited PK counters who do just that. By unspoken agreement, permas are supposed to be immune from this kind of treatment, but... You know what I mean. Don't flash your ring in town. Your status is nobody's business. By the way, why didn't you just call the guards? While you're in town, no one can hurt you."

"Yeah. Stupid of me."

"You've got to get savvy now. For you it's not a game anymore. Trust me, this place isn't as cute and cuddly as it may look."

I nodded absent-mindedly. Then a thought crossed my mind. "Is it," I snapped my fingers, searching for the right word, "all this Wild West, is it really necessary? Even the Olders, what do they get out of this pissing contest with these thugs?"

Eric walked and dragged me along, explaining as he went. "All these old-age citizens, all the crafters, bankers and pacifists—normally, they just don't want to go beyond level 10 so they can preserve their startup immunity. So not every noob is a newbie, if you know what I mean. Some of them take a different route. They pay to be power-leveled. After two months, they are level 200-plus and all done up in so much epic gear you'd need a raid party to get one up on them. I may be exaggerating a bit, but not much."

We
 
stopped by an affluent alchemy shop. Eric froze for a bit, checking the map. Then he pointed confidently, "This one. We'll go in together, I'll close the quest, you accept it right after me and close it, too."

Once inside, I was instantly distracted by the shop's contents. Before, I just couldn't afford to use any of those potions so now I eagerly studied their choice and prices. They had some classics: life and mana elixirs which worked over a period of time, allowing you to use them in battle but not giving you any considerable leveling advantage.

I picked up a Minor Health Potion. A tiny vial contained barely a mouthful of bright red liquid. It cost one gold piece. You squeezed it in your hand, and the stopper came out on its own. It started working thirty seconds after being swallowed, restoring up to 40 points health over a period of 10 ticks 5 seconds each, followed by a 3-minute cooldown during which you couldn't use it again. The idea was to minimize the time wasted on mana and hits regen while complicating protracted combat, allowing for easier soloing to those classes traditionally weak in solo leveling. Plus it helped relieve players of their money, no question about that.

The shop also had all sorts of potions: various armor and attack speed buffs as well as those increasing strength, agility, intellect and crit probability. Plus Eye of a Cat, Fish Breath and Crystal Vision as well as tons of other things.

Next to them stood a small collection of attack elixirs: poisons, acids and Molotov cocktails. Launching them was just like hurling gold at a target. An expensive exercise.

Safely tucked behind the shop owner's back, a protective magic field glittered over a special display. I studied its contents and phewed. For five hundred gold, those little vials raised any basic characteristic 1 point. Cooldown: twenty-four hours. Max cap: 200 extra points. For two thousand gold, you could get yourself an extra Talent point. Cooldown: five days. Cap: fifty points. Oh well. Tough toys for tough boys, and prices to match.

Then I heard a bear bellowing outside, followed by Eric's shrieks of delight. My heart shrunk and fluttered in my chest. Hummungus, sweet old Ted! I hurriedly approached the owner.

"Is it true, Sir, that you're looking for some rare elixir ingredients?"

The Elf owner, a picturesque type with bleak expressionless eyes, nodded gravely. "I am. I'm quite prepared to pay for any internal organs of rare beings."

New quest alert! The alchemist shop owner spends a lot of time looking for new magic formulas. For that purpose, he eagerly buys body parts from monsters level 100 and beyond.

Reward: Gold or Unknown Elixir.

Pardon me? I did accept the quest, no question about that. But where's my Teddy?

I felt a bit nervous. "Excuse me? Are you looking for something in particular?"

The owner didn't play hard to get. "Sure. There are a few things I'd buy from you right now. Or if money isn't what you're after, I could offer a swap for the resulting monster."

New quest alert! Bring the alchemist the heart and some blood of Red Bear, indigenous to the City of Light area.

Reward: Money or a unique mount.

Phew. Relieved, I dug into my bag for the quest objects. "I think I just happen to have what you're looking for."

The alchemist, wonderfully impassive, only wished to know what kind of reward I preferred. For a brief moment, he disappeared into a side room. When he came out, he placed on the counter a bone whistle on a leather strap.

Summoning Whistle. Binds when picked up. Summons a unique mount: Red Bear.

I grabbed the precious object and brought it to my lips. The alchemist recoiled, shielding himself with his hands. "Please don't! Not in my shop!"

Oops. That was a bit stupid. I mumbled my thanks and rushed out. Once in the street, I gave the whistle an almighty blow.

"WRRRGHRRRAAAAH!"

"Hummungus!"

Congratulations! This is your first riding mount. Would you like to rename Red Bear?

Yes!

A system window popped up displaying the mount's name. I deleted it and entered a new one:

Hummungus!

Teddy was good: tall, strong and perfectly alive. His old zombie incarnation was not a patch on this one. I patted his hairy head and, unable to control myself, gave him a peck on his wonderfully moist nose.

"Man, I missed you. We'll be together a long time now."

"Just look at them," a sarcastic voice said behind me.

I turned round—and shrunk back with a yelp. At about an arm's length from me, Eric sat astride his own bear. The creature was done up in gray and green camo patterns and bore the befitting name: LAV. From what I remembered from my army days, it stood for Light Armored Vehicle. On one side it carried the Vet Clan's logo: a shield with a star, enwreathed by an olive branch and a St. George's ribbon. On the other side was the bear's registration number 171, drawn in white paint by a rather unsteady hand.

"What on earth have you done with it?"

Eric sat up. "Cool, eh? I'm sure you haven't checked his settings yet. You can edit his appearance to your heart's content—within certain limits, of course."

I shook my head.

"Looks like AI's idea of limits offers a lot of room for interpretation. What's with the registration number?"

Eric rubbed his beast's muscly side with a look of nostalgia. "It was my lucky LAV, that one. Two years I drove it. In the end, it got scorched in Tskhinvali during the Second Georgian campaign. All my guys survived, though. So it's my lucky number. Come along, then. We need to get some grub. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut."

My bear was well-appointed with a quality bridle and saddle. He wasn't hard to mount but very comfortable to ride. I told Hummungus to follow Eric and dug deep into his settings.

Riding Mount: Hummungus (Red Bear)

Level: 1

Strength: 30

Constitution: 30

Attack: 10-20

Speed: 3 mph

Rider: 1

Weight-carrying capacity: 0

Special abilities: none

For your information: A mount can participate in combat alongside his owner. A mount can follow the same key commands as a summoned creature, plus special path commands. In case of death, a mount loses all of its current level experience and remains unsummonable for the next twenty-four hours.

Nothing difficult. I had to keep him safe: his respawning, albeit delayed, was already good news. I opened his appearance settings. Aha. That's where Eric let his fantasy run wild. It did cost him, though. Twenty gold for changing the pet's color plus another ten for each logo added. You could also upload your own patterns to change the bear's skin. Should I too go for camo? Or maybe, white with a blue stripe? And blues'n'twos on top, yeah right. In the end, I decided against trying the beast's patience. I was quite happy with the way it looked for the time being. Still, I had a funny feeling that the local mounts held quite a few surprises in store for me, including Barbie-Doll pink lions and fluffy rhinestone-studded ponies.

With a beep, the PM icon flashed. Again. And again. What's all the rush? I opened my inbox and my jaw dropped. That Elven chick, Taali, could cuss when she wanted to! I didn't even know you could convey the simple question,
 
Where have you been all this time?
, in as many F-words.

I chuckled and shot off a reply, inviting her to dinner at the Three Little Pigs and promising to explain everything there. She didn't answer. Could she be angry with me? Never mind. This could actually make a good acid test for our friendship. If she did come to the Pigs that night, prepared to listen to me and accept the truth—great stuff, we were still friends. If she didn't... well, then she was just another whacky gaming chick. In which case it wasn't meant to happen, as simple as that.

While I was at it, I checked my friend list. Both my rogue friends, Bug and Cryl, were online. I invited them to the Three Little Pigs, too. Bug replied straight away,

OK. Will pick up cash from the bank on my way.

Good kid. I'd have to look at the results of our Wardrobe op. If it worked, I'd better keep in touch with him. I had a funny feeling you couldn't very easily survive here on your own.

Cryl didn't answer, even though the green light of his online status kept glowing. Wonder if he'd blacklisted me by mistake? Pressed the wrong button? I'd love to cross paths with him again somewhere, he was too funny to lose contact with.

We arrived at the inn to numerous sighs of delight. Eric must have PM'd all his friends, impatient to impress them. They met us by the inn's gates. A small crowd gathered around LAV, studying and touching the patient phlegmatic creature. They preferred to give mine a wide berth, though. Hummungus cast warning glances at the strangers and bared his teeth, growling when someone came too close. The two Red Bear clones definitely didn't share the same character.