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Seeing him overtaken by gloom, I promptly changed the subject. "This clan of yours, what's it about?"

Eric cheered up a bit. "Combat vets. Mainly the two Chechen wars, the second Georgian campaign and the Far East conflict. But we also have a few military advisors, foreign intelligence people, special forces, and even a few handicapped Afghan vets. No internal shit—no police or anti-riot men. They have a clan of their own. There's some sort of cold war going on between us. So you see, it's not much we can do with this chick. But we need to find her a place and something to do before she gets into trouble. Things aren't as easy as they seem here. We're now talking about building a nursery to train new players for the clan. We're short on healers and buffers. Normally we only get true blue warriors, if you know what I mean."

Honestly, I was quite surprised. I didn't expect to find so many professional military in the game.

Eric gave me a crooked grin. "I can't tell you how many of us are here. It's classified. Let's put it this way, it's a three-figure number. And as for why we're here... D'you know how I used the bathroom after the second Georgian campaign? You pull your pants down and clamp the drip. Then you unstick the plastic container from your hip, pour its contents down the toilet and stick it back on again. A frag in my stomach, half the bladder down the drain. Shit happens."

He paused. "Some motherfuckers made billions in army supplies. Those in the arms industry got their cut, too. And those on top helped them carve up the budget. And all the while young lost-eyed kids kept fertilizing the ground in strange lands with their blood. That's the way it goes..."

He turned to me. "D'you see that guy over there flirting with girls—blond hair, blue eyes? If you met him in the real world, you'd have had nightmares for a week. He spent twenty minutes keeping the enemy away from his APC, not letting them get close enough to finish off his guys. He was so burned that dogs pissed themselves with fear when they saw him. Do we still sound too many to you? Each of them here is a bodiless, soulless stump..."

He was right. Shit happened. But I had another question to ask him, too. "I've noticed a funny thing here. Whoever I speak to, they're all Russian. Your clan, too. Where are all the foreigners?"

"Oh, dude. You sure you read the Terms and Conditions? Or did you just tick the box? Relax. No one does. I didn't. I had it explained to me, too. The game localizes users using their IP addresses, their interface language, their address and credit card issuer. They know who we are and where we are from. So they throw us all into one language cluster using an algorithm that only the admins know. This is mainly a Russian-speaking zone. We have some Eastern European players, a handful of unidentified immigrants, but not many, just within statistical error."

"Wait a bit. And what happens if some
 
Frenchie wants to play for the High Elves? What's he gonna do?"

"P-lease. AlterWorld is quarter of the size of the globe. Plenty of Cities of Light to go around. I have a funny feeling the developers split us up for a reason. Once we sorted out our internal differences, we might start a new world war. Now that's some serious money—real money. Today's billions are peanuts in comparison."

I gave it some thought. Actually, he could be right.

Overall, our conversation proved quite productive. As night approached, I walked upstairs, slightly swaying. I sleepily looked over the clean and comfortable little room, pulled off my clothes and shut out, ending my first day in the new world.

* * *

Strictly confidential

Experiment Log 425 of the Globe 4 classified facility.

Subject: male, 35 year old, healthy. Digitized in the virtual world New Amazons Build 0.827.

The player 'went perma' after 70 hours of full immersion. Further consecutive disconnection of the Internet, the game client and the FIVR capsule did not affect the digitized character.

All attempts to log into the same account resulted in a brief message:

Connection error. Player already in game.

On the fifth day after going digital, the player reached level 12. But none of his achievements were logged into the server database. Manual changes to the database, including account removal, did not affect the digitized subject. This allows us to conclude that the perma effect creates an independent copy of a game character not covered by the game world's database. All our attempts to directly manipulate the player have failed. The only possibility to do so is by indirectly controlling him via the game world and other characters.

I
 
lounged in bed enjoying that blissful weekend feeling. No alarm clocks, no hasty breakfast before rushing off to work alongside equally sleepy and grumpy—never knew why—fellow citizens.

Birds' songs poured in through the open window. The heavy door all but blocked out the ground-floor sounds: quiet voices and the rattling of plates. Someone burst out in cheerful laughter. The smell of fried bacon tickled my nostrils. I stretched with a happy smile—my joints made no cracking or clicking—and sat up in one smooth motion, enjoying the sensation of a perfectly healthy body. The thought of its potential use intoxicated me. Enough larking about. Time to kill some gnolls. They had to be missing me.

Before I left I decided to spend my last gold piece on another night. The innkeeper scooped the coin off the bar. "What time should I expect you?"

"Not before nighttime, I suppose. Time to let some gnolls' blood."

He nodded his
 
understanding. "Wait a sec. I'll arrange for some sandwiches."

Shit. I kept forgetting to eat. This wasn't real life where you could skip a meal. Here, once you're hungry, you'd better quit whatever you're doing double quick before you're flat out of mana.

"Thank you, Sir. I completely forgot."

The innkeeper gave me a knowing smile, like, he'd been young too once.

The red-faced waitress rushed in from the kitchen and handed me a sizable packet and a still warm flask. I looked inside.

Three Little Pigs Sandwich, courtesy of chef. Amt: 5.

Use: +3 to Strength, +3 to Constitution for 2 hrs.

Strong Herbal Tea

Use: Speeds up mana regeneration 3% for 2 hrs.

Surprised, I looked up at the innkeeper. "Are you sure? This stuff sure costs more than the gold piece I gave you for the room."

He gave me a wink, grinning. "On the house, kid. Eric gave me a whisper about you last night. You're one of the locals, almost. It's all right, really. Just enjoy your food."

I thanked him again, wistfully packed up the delicious-smelling goodies and headed for the door.

On my way to the Gnoll Hill I checked my friend list. Cryl was offline. But the sad Taali girl was there. I sent her a toothy smiley, just to cheer her up. A couple minutes later I received a cheeky winking face. My mood upped a few degrees. Life was moving on.

There it was, the hill from yesterday. Still lots of people but nothing like last night. I wasn't going to join a group, not quite yet. I wanted to play solo for a while to explore my char's potential.

I raised a rather average zombie, attracting a few curious glances in the process. It wasn't often they saw a Necro right here in the heart of the Lands of Light. I placed the remaining Soul Stone in a separate pocket in case I had to raise the pet again right in the heat of battle.

And then we got cooking.

Four hours and two stupid deaths later, I was almost level nine. Two gold pieces clinked in my wallet, plus about six hundred copper. Luckily, virtual money didn't weigh much: a thousand pieces equaled two and a half pounds. Twice I'd been to town to get rid of my hefty nickel-and-dime loot. I had about forty bracelets and the same amount of Soul Stones. I kept leveling slowly but surely, the few deaths resulting mainly from a couple of unlucky pulls. Gnolls had a large aggro zone what with their constant scurrying about, messengers running to and fro. Turned out it wasn't a good place for an easy hunt.

I wasn't bored, running an angler's adrenaline rush as I scooped the loot out of bodies. I spent meditation breaks scrolling through the location chat. Somebody was still looking for a Red Bear,
 
offering first three and later ten gold for the creature's whereabouts. A quest pet, apparently. Petty peddlers squabbled among themselves buying and selling stuff. Bracelets were in constant demand so I could have done a bit of haggling if I wanted to. Plenty of buyers around.

Having restored mana to full, I rose, mechanically dusting my pants. I had to get myself some clothes, really, walking around in a basic free kit like a green newb. And the cloak... better not say anything about it. I just hoped that Taali had chosen a different leveling location.

I noticed a ranger player appearing from the nearby woods, his health flashing an orange alarm. He took a dozen paces, turned toward the trees and shot a few arrows at a yet unseen target. His gear was quite impressive, his armor gleaming with complex traceries, his rings glistening with gems. Even the arrows he shot left strange purple residue in the air.

I peered at him.
 
Karish. Level 38.

A big fish, too big for this location. Who was he firing off at?

Then I saw it. Red Bear himself, as large as life and twice as ugly. About six foot eight shoulder height, he was studded with arrows like a pin cushion and was also twice as scary for it. His frantic eyes sparkled yellow, each the size of a saucer. The beast bared his teeth, each a good dagger long.

The ranger lunged forward, shortening the distance between them. The bear was having a hard time. He had barely 10% life left.

As the fighters approached, I looked around for a place as far from the bear as possible. One swing of his paw, and I could do another corpse run.

The archer stopped within ten paces from me. He turned round and grabbed his bow. Twang, twang, twang. The bear's life bar shrunk to the size of a hair. He was toast.

But the bear still had enough in him to surprise us. He reared up, knocked an arrow aside in full flight and bellowed. Not just any old bellow, either:

You hear the wild roar of a primeval beast! You're petrified! Your body is paralyzed with fear!

Jesus. Just then my pet remembered his default owner-protection settings, grumbled and lunged toward the bear. Where did he think he was going?

Veins bulged on the motionless raider's neck as he struggled against the invisible chains. The bear limped toward the man and in one powerful jolt pulled him under himself. I could hear the smacking of heavy paws. A few seconds later, everything was over. A small grave appeared where the archer had died.

The bear turned to my zombie pet who had during all that time pounded the beast's wide back. Absolutely pointless. The level gap was too big. The zombie either missed or couldn't pierce the armor resulting in zero damage hits. When the paralysis finally ended, I stirred, racking my brains for a solution. The pet was little help, I could see that. He could only defer the monster two seconds max. And if I cast the DoT or the Deadman's Hand? He was almost sure to resist both. The only thing that might work was Life Absorption. It had always worked, ignoring the target's resistance to magic. How much life could the bear have left? One or two percent at most. Definitely not a hundred. I couldn't escape so I could just as well try it.

I selected the bear as target and activated the spell.

Red Bear has sustained 14 points Damage!

You've received 14 points Life! 90/90

The zombie gnoll has been clawed! Damage sustained: 190 points!

The zombie gnoll tried to punch Red Bear but missed!

Red Bear has sustained 15 points Damage!

You've received 15pt Life! 90/90

A critical hit received! Red Bear has clawed the zombie gnoll resulting in 390 points Damage!

The zombie gnoll is dead!

The bear hobbled toward me. Pointless running: even though he could barely move his legs, each step was so wide he'd catch up with me in no time. And he also had that bellowing skill. He'd just paralyze me and kill me. Oh shit. He was rearing up.

The bear stood up glaring at me with hatred.

Red Bear has sustained 13 points Damage!

You've received 13 points Life! 90/90.

The beast opened his jaws wide and bellowed just as I finished casting the spell again.

You hear the wild roar of a primeval beast! You're petrified! Your body is paralyzed with fear!

You've dealt a critical hit! Red Bear has sustained 28 points Damage!

You've received 28 points Life! 90/90.

Red Bear is dead!

You've received Experience!

Congratulations! You've reached level 9!

Racial bonus: +1 to Intellect!

Class bonus: +1 to Intellect, +1 to Spirit!

5 Characteristic points available! You now have 20 Characteristic points!

Congratulations! You've received achievement: Goliath!

You've killed a creature 10 levels higher than you!

You've been awarded +100 points Fame!

Congratulations! You've received achievement: Colossus!

You've killed a creature 20 levels higher than you!

You've been awarded +500 points Fame!

I just stood there frozen, my mouth gaping in a silent whoopee, my dropped jaw fully describing my feelings. What a coincidence. Un-freakin'-believable. Had the archer stayed alive, I'd have dealt a certain amount of damage but gotten no experience at all. More than that: had the ranger been bound to this location, then he'd have received all of the experience even in death. But the archer must have either arrived from afar or teleported to the city and hadn't yet bound to the location. Enter me. His damage list was now empty. God only knows where he'd respawn now. Having said that, hardly any class allowed you to wrestle down a bear while there was at least one percent life in him. No steel or magic would have made a dent in him. What incredible, enormous luck.