Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Level Up: Hero by Dan Sugralinov

Level Up, Book 2
by Dan Sugralinov

Release - December 10, 2018


“OKAY, I’LL PUT it in a different way. How did you kill them?”
“There was this little boy... he suffocated. It just happened! Then there was a girl... she just died too... bled to death...”
The sound of a gunshot almost deafens me. A bullet to the shoulder throws the corrupt government official onto his back. My ears ringing, I can barely hear Vicky cuss under her breath as she flings the gun aside,
“Bastard, bastard, bastard! How I hate them!”
“Holy crap, Vick, what have you just done!”
Gleb Grechkin, a prominent figure in the Town Hall’s Cultural Department, is squirming on the floor, apparently not in a hurry to croak. His wound isn’t life-threatening and his Vitality is still in the green as a Bleed debuff ticks away, stripping the pedophile of his Health.

“He’s a scumbag, don’t you understand? He doesn’t deserve to live!”
“Uuugh,” he groans, “You’re gonna pay for that! I’m gonna wipe you out... Ooooh...”
“Enough! Wake up!” I shake Vicky by the shoulders, trying to bring her back to her senses. “Let’s go!”
“Where do you want us to go? We need to finish him off first!”
I'm a bit worried about her attitude but I can see the Fury and Righteous Indignation buffs hovering in the tag above her head. I grab her by the hand and drag her toward the door. I also pick up the gun, just to be on the safe side.
I open the trunk of Grechkin’s SUV and look for a hose and an empty can. While Vicky inspects the other cars, I syphon off the gas.
“Here, I’ve found another one,” Vicky hands me an empty can.
It takes us some time to fill both, then I take them and go back into Grechkin’s house.
Grechkin’s cowering behind the couch. A bloody trail lies in his wake. As I enter, he shudders and starts muttering.
I cuss as I remember something. I reach into my pocket for the handkerchief I’d taken off the corrupt Colonel “Dimedrol”[1], Grechkin’s best friend. I pour some vodka over it and wipe the gun clean. Vicky leaves to do the same with the fingerprints in Wheezie and Zak’s car: the two junkies who, on Dimedrol’s orders, have kidnapped me and Vicky in a dark alley, stuffed us in the trunk and brought us here.
“What are you doing here?” Grechkin asks clearly, enunciating every word. “I can’t feel my legs. What’s wrong with me?”
I peer at the profile of this non-entity which has already been sentenced to death by the mysterious program in my head. Social status level: -1. This has resulted in a dramatic drop in all of his characteristics. His debuffs aren’t exactly energy-promoting, either: his Metabolism is deep in the red, his Mobility virtually non-existent. Once he’d confessed to all his crimes, the game system declassified him, changing his social status to negative and issuing me a system quest to eliminate the pedophile.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do now.
I can hear someone moaning nearby but it’s not Grechkin. Wheezie raises his bloodied head, his foot twitching. He’s still alive but I don’t feel like killing him yet. He can stay alive... for the time being.
I glance at the clock hanging above the door. It’s well past three in the morning. Trying to stay away from the burning fireplace, I pour the gas over the bodies, the furniture and the pool table, then use the second can to douse the verandah, the hall and the wooden staircase leading to the second floor. The remainder I use to make a hot trail to the house.
I return to the lounge holding the gun in the handkerchief and lay it into Zak’s hands.
“Please don’t leave me...” Grechkin pleads. “A million dollars... in cash... please...”
I leave the empty cans in the house. Snatching a lighter from the couch’s armrest, I survey the scene of our nightmare.
Then I walk outside. Vicky stands next to me and lays her head on my shoulder.
Even if hell doesn’t exist, we’re going to make a personal one for him: here on planet Earth, in this particular local segment of our Galaxy.
Let it all burn to hell!
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a silhouette appear from around the corner.
The last thing I hear are the claps of several gunshots. As I pass out, Vicky’s scream echoes through my mind.

Chapter One

I COULD STILL SEE the smoky crimson flames imprinted on my retinas; I could smell the steely odor of blood and hear someone shrieking; I could taste the gas and the damp loose earth in my mouth when I woke up.
“Phil! I’m home!” Vicky’s cheerful voice rang in the hallway, awakening me from my nightmare.
She walked into the bedroom, leaned over me and kissed me.
“Vicky... sweetie...” I rubbed my eyes and stretched, feeling all my bones ache. Then I couldn’t help it any longer: I scooped her up and pulled her toward me.
Laughing, she fell into my embrace. Still holding her, I rolled onto her, supporting myself on my elbows.
“You didn’t expect me, did you?” Vicky gave me a brazen smile. “I thought you were enjoying your freedom! Maybe not with the girls but you could have gone out with your friends for the weekend!”
“No, I didn’t expect you. And no, I wasn’t going to enjoy my freedom. You know very well I don’t do weekends. I went for a jog in the morning, did some market research trying to work out a few things, then I had my boxing practice and pumped some weights. By the evening, I was so tired I zonked out reading some Adizes. His books are so beneficial they put me to sleep.”
She shut me up with a kiss and reached under my T-shirt.
“Why did you-” I began, meaning to ask her why she’d come back from her parents so early — she was supposed to spend all weekend there — but the blood drained from my brain. For the next quarter of an hour, I had no desire to ask her anything.
When we finally lay there quietly, I tried to pull together the tatters of my dream but could only remember a few images. The woods, a cellar, rain, some bad people and my utter helplessness.
I remembered my unasked question. “So what made you come back earlier than planned?”
“You know... we were sitting there at the table having dinner and talking; my parents, my brother and my daughter...” she fell silent, reminiscing. “And all of a sudden I felt I had to go and see you. I felt as if I was losing you. At first I wanted to just give you a call, but then Dad decided to go on an overnight fishing trip and Mum had her own things to do. So I gave Xena a kiss and jumped into the car. I was in such a hurry to get back home before nightfall I very nearly had an accident. I skidded into the opposite lane just when a white Land Cruiser sped right past me...” she droned as if it didn’t happen to her. “Then I walked in, heard you wheezing in your sleep and felt a whole lot better straight away!”
Impressed by her story, I pulled her toward me. That was my Empathy at work: I could physically sense the potential loss and something truly terrible that could have happened to us but luckily didn’t.
For a while, we lay in silence. Then Vicky lifted her head from my chest and sprang back to her feet. I got up too and followed her into the bathroom, unable to take my eyes off her well-rounded backside.
“How about we have dinner?” she asked as we took a shower together. “Mom sent us over a whole heap of pies.”
“No, toasted!” she lashed out at me with her sponge. “Some are egg and onions, some are cabbage and the others are potato!”
“I only asked!” I said, ducking out of the way. “Give her my thanks! Okay, okay, I give up!”
Her reaction was pretty understandable: she was sick and tired of my lecturing her about healthy eating. What did you expect me to do, if every time I took a bite of French fries, the system showered me with warnings and debuffs? If you listened to the interface, everything fried increased the risk of cancer and raised your cholesterol levels. It would have been okay but every time I saw my Health drop even one-thousandth of a percent, it eroded every pleasure I had in eating.
While Vicky was getting dressed, I managed to slice some fresh veg for our dinner. That was the only way I could neutralize the effects of fat food, courtesy of the system.
“Listen, Phil,” Vicky came back into the kitchen. “My Mom has been pestering me about you. I’d have loved to tell her something but what? I can’t keep explaining to them that you’re such a nice, reliable, intelligent guy, then drop the bombshell that you’re unemployed. Should we go and see them together next week, maybe? I’ll finally introduce you to them...”
My parents had indeed liked her. When we’d arrived at their place together a couple of weeks ago, they hadn’t known what to say because they’d expected me alone. But as soon as the effect had worn off, Mom began squawking,
“Don’t just stand there in the door, son! Come in and introduce us!”
“I’d like you to meet Vicky,” I said. “We’re seeing each other. We met at work. Vicky, these are-”
“I’m Kira, this wanker’s sister,” my sister gave Vicky a hug. “Come in, don’t stand on ceremony! Make yourself at home!”
It had gone well. Still, I was a bit worried how the meeting with her parents would go.
As I pondered over this, Vicky switched over to another sore subject, “Listen, so what’s on your agenda? Have you made up your mind? You sure you don’t want to try White Hill, Ltd? I know their HR manager. They’re major distributors in their field but their sales reps don't last long so they're constantly short of staff. How about you give them a try? Even an average rep ears a decent living there and you’re one helluva salesman. I could talk to them...”
”Please sweetie, don’t start. I know you’re used to only relying on yourself, so allow me to do the same. I’ve got a business idea and I’m sure it’s gonna work. But I still need a little bit of time to prepare everything and start everything properly. I’m not just doing all this market research for nothing...”
“But you never even talk about it! Why can’t you tell me? Could it be that you don’t even have an idea? Or are you not only trying to fool me but also yourself?”
“Yes, I do have an idea,” I began.
A telephone call interrupted me.
“Wait a sec, I’ll get it,” I said.
I looked at the phone screen. Look who’s calling! Alik, as large as life! I hadn’t seen nor heard from him for quite a while, almost since I gave him my old apartment.
With an understanding nod, Vicky got up and started doing the washing up. I walked out onto the balcony so that the noise of the running water didn’t drown my voice out. “Hi, Alik.”
“Good evening, Mr. Panfilov!”
“Evening, Romuald! Why are you so official?” I asked, slightly baffled by his formal manner. It had never happened to him before.
“There’s something I need to ask you, Mr. Panfilov,” he drawled glibly. “What’s with our business? When is the launch?”
I realized he was half-canned. “I can’t talk to you right now. We’re gonna start any week now. I’ll give you a call.”
I could hear a woman’s laughter and his voice whispering, “We’ll start any week now! You’re gonna be my secretary!”
“Mr. Panfilov,” Alik switched back to me. “Well, just make sure it’s all sorted! Because if you don’t-”
“Right,” I said. “I’ve no idea who you’re with or where but I suggest you split and call me back later. Over.”
I hung up. I really didn’t like the almost condescending tone of his voice. I stayed on the balcony waiting for him to call back.
“Everything all right?” Vicky’s voice came from the kitchen. “Who was it?”
“It’s okay. I won’t be long.”
I waited a couple of minutes until finally the screen lit up again, showing him grinning. It was the picture of him I’d taken for my phone book profile.
“Phil, I’m lone now, just like you asked,” Alik said in his normal voice. “What’s up?”
“You’d better tell me who you’re out boozing with. What did you want from me?”
“Eh, sorry if I upset you. Today’s a day off so I’ve had a few drinks with the guys from work and I’m just sitting here socializing. There is this girl, Irina... I think I like her,” Alik paused, reluctant to go on.
“Well, I told her I was going to quit and start my own business. Like, I was your partner. So she started nagging that she wanted to be in it too. And I-”
“I see. I’d like to ask you about something. Before you promise anything, please run everything past me first. Otherwise nothing will pan out. Agreed?”
“Word up. Sorry, Phil. You shouldn’t think I’m crocked. I’ve only had a few beers. I’m gonna get Irina now and we’ll go to my place.”
“Where do you live?”
“I’ve rented a place next to work. It’s really run down but at least it’s cheap, five grand all in. Listen... so do you want me to quit? And the guys as well?”
“Which guys?”
“My guys, the lads who very nearly beat the crap out of you, remember? Tarzan and the other two? I got them working with me. And if we do suddenly have to quit, we’ve still got a month’s work in front of us.”
‘Okay, just let them work for the time being seeing as you’ve got them already. But I might need your help very soon so you can quit from this Monday onwards. It’ll take us about a month to get this show on the road.”
“Yes, boss! Sorry for having troubled you. Don’t hold it against me!” he hung up.
By my calculations, three weeks should have been enough to finalize everything we still had to do to launch our little enterprise. I’d had a lot of ideas but they all summed up to a few things: to bring my physical stats above average, level up Insight and wait for Optimization. Once that done, I could concentrate on my business.
I planned to start with just one thing: opening a recruitment agency. One activity was much easier to promote than several. Also, I’d already had a few successful referrals like Alik and Fatso. And once our agency had made a name for itself, we could start broadening out the range of our services.
There were two more factors at paly there. Firstly, I still didn’t know what kinds of perks I could receive at the next level of Insight. You never know, I might be able to see hidden treasures by looking at maps, or even new plutonium deposits. And secondly, processing a large flow of job seekers would allow me to hand-pick the best people for my own company.
I went back to Vicky. She’d already poured out the tea and was sitting at the kitchen table hugging her legs, glued to her telephone. On seeing me, she looked up quizzically.
“That was Alik,” I answered her silent question. “He asked me the same thing as you: when we’re gonna start the business.”
“Alik? Who’s that?”
I realized they hadn’t met. They’d never had the occasion.
“Just a friend,” I said, unwilling to go into details. “He’s gonna help me with the business.”
She didn’t seem to convinced but she didn’t show it. All I could see in my interface was her slightly deflated mood and her prickled interest.
“You’re gonna meet him as soon as I get the chance. And as far this business is concerned...” I chuckled. “This isn’t just an idea. I know exactly how to launch and develop it. All I’m asking you for is a little bit of patience. You won’t be disappointed, I promise!”
“Phil, I’m only worried about you, don’t you understand! I just can’t work out what’s going on in your head. I’m afraid you’re thinking about going back to your old lifestyle...” he lowered her gaze.
“Look me in the eye, sweetie,” I pressed my hand to my heart. “I swear on everything that’s holy that I haven’t even thought of anything of the kind! I’m following a plan, and this plan is going to bring success to our family!”
There was a spark of surprise in her eyes. A smile lit up her face. “Are we a family, really?”
“Yes, we are. And next weekend we’re gonna see your parents just as you suggested.”
“In that case...” she said slyly as if she was up to something. She suddenly dropped her head, letting her hair fall over her face, then stood up, holding her outstretched arms in front of her, doing an impersonation of that girl from The Ring movie. “You’d better watch out! The ancient evil has awoken in me! It wants you!”

* * *

EVEN IF MY RELATIONSHIP was going well, my leveling up strategy wasn’t. All I’d achieved in two weeks was a level 13 in social status, +1 to both Strength and Agility and +2 to Stamina. Just as I’d planned, I’d invested the three system characteristic points I’d invested into Perception (+2) and Intellect (+1).
Even if I had become any smarter, I hadn’t noticed it. But my heightened Perception had immediately made my world a lot brighter. I now had 20/20 vision, my hearing was excellent and so was my palate. Now I was even capable of telling the difference between various types of tea and coffee which I’d never noticed before. Just think that I used to enjoy that instant crap and proper freshly-ground coffee in equal measure!
As for my eyesight, the only thing I had been able to see in the night sky without glasses was the North Star. And now... now I derived a particular pleasure from studying the heavens. How fragile planet Earth was and with it, just how insignificant was humanity! You never know, maybe it was true about all those senior races visiting us from thousands of light years away and the mysterious Vaalphors who looked suspiciously like horror-movie demons.
I hadn’t yet touched the system skill points I’d received for leveling up so now I had a total of five. I wouldn’t have been wise to invest them now because the initial skill levels normally don’t take much time to achieve. Which was why I was waiting for the Learning Skills optimization period to finish so that I could invest all the available system points into it. If I’d calculated everything correctly, touch wood, then I might be able to learn new skills and level up my existing ones at a truly cosmic speed, almost like in the Game. I only had ten days left to wait.

Philip “Phil” Panfilov
Age: 32
Current status: unemployed
Social status level: 13
Classes: Book Reader, level: 8
Children: none

Main Characteristics:
Strength: 9
Agility: 7
Intellect: 20
Stamina: 9
Perception: 111
Charisma: 14
Luck: 10

At 8 pt., my Reading skill had already overtaken Empathy. These days, I wasn’t perusing books on sales anymore. I chose the books relevant to my skills because I’d already found out, through trial and error, that knowing the theory of a given skill — be it boxing or vending — considerably increased its leveling rate. I hadn’t yet attacked Martha Stewart’s cooking books but I fully intended to because a high level of Cooking just might allow me to prepare buff-rich food. Heh! Wouldn’t it be cool to eat a hearty bowlful of borsch[2] knowing that it gives you +2 to Strength and 30% to Satisfaction for three hours!
These days, I was cooking much more compared to the time when I’d lived with Yanna which had allowed me to make another level in Cooking.
These days, whenever Vicky was at work I concentrated on XP grinding. We’d get out of bed together and have breakfast sharing our plans for the day or discussing a movie or a series we’d watched the night before. Then she’d leave for work and I would head for a run to a dilapidated school stadium nearby, its soccer pitch with lopsided netless goal mouths overgrown with yellowed weeds.
Grass peeked out of the holes in the rubberized running track which I used to circle every day, trying to improve my distance. With every training session and every fraction of the skill gained, my running felt increasingly easier.
One fine morning I’d discovered that I was already on my fifth mile and I wasn’t even out of breath. Nothing was hurting. If someone called me on my phone, I’d be able to speak to them normally without them even noticing I was running. I’d raised Running three more points and made level 5.
Once I’d realized that it took me very little time to restore — thanks to the booster — I started going to the gym every day. Ditto for my boxing sessions. Even though my Strength wasn’t growing as fast as in the beginning, I still had less than 20% left to the average 10 pt. which was about a week’s training.
I’d also received a new skill: Athletics. It came without a description so I’d had to ask Martha about it. Apparently, unlike in Morrowind where Athletics only conditioned a character for running and swimming, my game system used it as the ability to compete. In other words, having this skill activated meant that the system now considered you a proper athlete (albeit an amateur) and not a wimp.
Admittedly, I was starting to feel like an athlete. My six-pack might still be concealed under a layer of fat but there wasn’t much of that fat left, either. When I’d put my old glasses on just to check if my increase in Perception had indeed improved my eyesight, they refused to stay put. In actual fact, my goofy mug had thinned out so much that it now fit in the proverbial mug shot. If Kira were to be believed, I’d “shed a few years”. The only thing which still reminded me of my past was my admittedly shrunken belly which although it had stopped pouring over my belt, was still visible unless pulled in.
Last time I’d seen Alik was when he’d moved out of my old apartment. That day, I’d gone there early to make sure everything was hunky dory. He hadn’t let me down. The place looked fine; he'd even managed to do some repairs. The only thing my former landlady found to complain about was the claw marks in the couch left by Boris the she-cat. We came to a reasonable agreement about this, considering the couch’s ancient history.
The same day, I’d come across Fatso in the yard. He'd changed an awful lot. Maybe not on the outside but his Vitality had considerably grown and his Mood figures were high. The stable job seemed to have instilled a bit of discipline in him. It had also calmed his wife down, disabling her built-in Scold mode. Altogether it had improved his Satisfaction, pacifying the formerly unemployed juicehead and considerably improving his Health.
Last week I’d received an invitation for a birthday party from Cyril Cyrilenko, my ex-coworker from Ultrapak. I’d wanted to invite Vicky along but she refused saying she wouldn’t feel comfortable after what had happened with Marina and Dennis. So in the end I went there alone.
Cyril had chosen a modest but cozy venue with attentive waiters, cold beer, good food and upbeat live music. There were about ten of us, all his friends and colleagues. I didn’t know some of them so I sat at a table between Greg and Marina. Their trial period had nearly come to an end but neither of them seemed to be too worried about it. Seeing as Dennis had been fired for sexually harassing Marina and I had also left, Pavel was likely to keep both trainees. Especially as their sales results had been excellent. Greg was one of those people who could sell sand to Arabs while Marina was enthusiastically working her way through the client list I’d compiled for her, working on the “not a day without a sale” basis.
After Greg had made up with his pregnant wife Alina, his paternal instinct seemed to have kicked in. Having sat with us for a couple of hours, he apologized to Cyril and went home. As for Marina, she’d brought a date along, some postgraduate or other.
I was so happy I’d been able to help my friends and change the course of their lives in some way. Who knows? Maybe this small readjustment would change their lives dramatically for the better. Or was it already doing so?
By the way, the system had classified my attendance as a meaningful social action and rewarded it with some XP points. Apparently, the ability to always stand by your friends in good times as well as bad was considered a virtue.
I hadn’t heard from Yanna even though my Mom had called her mother Mrs. Orlova for some unknown reason and asked how she was doing. That’s my Mom for you: she’s constantly worrying about everyone. As far as I understood, their conversation had been curt and brief, ending with Mrs. Orlova’s demand to “leave her family alone”.
Mom had accepted this with comprehension. I’d only found this out by pure chance from Dad when the two of us went to our summer cottage last weekend to help build the sauna. I’d used the occasion to weed the vegetable garden, bringing my Agriculture skill to level 2. I’d also used the hand pump to water the whole garden. No amount of time in the gym can compare to hand-watering a garden. My muscles are still indignant of the fact, remembering all the effort.
One morning on my way back home from my run I’d met Mr. Panikoff, the dear old-age pensioner. I tensed up: by then, the whole dark incident involving Valiadis and Khphor had already begun to fade from my memory. Deep inside I’d been expecting something like this to happen. Still, my worst expectations hadn’t come true. All that had happened was he’d issued me another quest. Apparently, his children had given him a tablet with his favorite sports newspaper app already installed — but it stopped working whenever his Wi-Fi was out of range. As soon as I walked the old gentleman back to our building’s door and within range of his Wi-Fi, the app started up and the quest was closed, rewarding me with 5 more Reputation points and a negligible amount of XP.
I’d bought myself a mid-range laptop, perfect for writing and doing online search. It was light with a wide screen and a long-life battery. I’d developed the habit of taking it with me in my sports bag so that I could pop into a café on my way back from a gym practice and do a bit of writing. This had become my favorite time of the day. I was yet to tackle novel-length manuscripts but at least my vignettes and short stories had found their reader, harvesting likes and comments. That in itself was motivation enough, not to mention the fact that they improved my ranking on that particular writers’ portal.
I’d gone as far as to write the story of Alik and Fatso whom I’d rolled into one character. It had become a one-day wonder, hitting the portal’s “most read” list. The readers demanded a sequel which I didn’t have because the story’s prototypes were too busy working and basically leading an uneventful life. If it went on like this, I might write a sci-fi story in which the MC would receive the same kind of interface as I now had. Like about some puny guy who was too scared to fight. Why not? It might be interesting.
In any case, my Writing and MS Word skills kept leveling at the rate of knots. That showed both in their numerical values and in the way I felt. Words came easier; my fingers flitted over the keyboard and ideas seemed to come out of nowhere so that I’d even had to start a special file in my smartphone to jot them down.
The change in my lifestyle had also indirectly affected my other skills: Self-Discipline (+2), Self-Control (+1), Persistence (+2), Long-Term Planning (+1). Indeed. These days I found it easier to follow my own plans, nipping all attempts at procrastination and cowardly moments of “I don’t feel like it” in the bud.
The major part of XP I now had I’d amassed by leveling up skills and characteristics — but some of it I’s also received for completing the tasks I’d set for myself. Any athletics-related goals counted (like an effort to run a hundred meters more than the day before), as well as helping my family with their everyday tasks. For instance, helping my Dad at their summer cottage that day had resulted in me receiving a hefty 500 pt.
What upset me a little was that I still couldn’t level up Insight. I’d already got into the habit of IDying everything in sight. It had become as involuntary and automatic as turning round in the street to double-check a pretty woman’s posterior. Still, it didn’t seem enough. The skill seemed to have frozen at about 40% halfway between levels 2 and 3. All the hundreds of object identifications I performed every day garnered me a fraction of a percent.
Ditto for using the interface map. Whenever I asked Martha about it, her response was like a Catch-22 situation: my level of Insight wasn’t enough to receive the answer to the question of how to level up Insight. I had this idea that its leveling rate could increase whenever I used to interface for the benefit of society. Alternatively, the skill’s level cap could be tied to the current social status level — but I had no means of checking out these two theories yet.
But the biggest improvement, apart from Running, had proven to be my Boxing skill (+3) which had brought the total up to level 4.
Main Skills and Abilities:

·       Learning Skills (3) (a primary skill currently undergoing Optimization: +4)
·       Reading (8)
·       MS Word (7)
·       Empathy (7)
·       PC skills (7).
·       Vending (6).
·       Communication Skills (6).
·       Creative Writing (6).
·       Russian language (6).
·       Running (5).
·       Intuition (5).
·       Cooking skills (5).
·       Online search (5).
·       MS Excel (5).
·       Boxing (4).
·       Perseverance (4).
·       Decision Making (4).
·       Hand-to-Hand combat (4).
·       Self-Discipline (4).
·       Self-Control (4).
·       Seduction (4).
·       English Language (3).
·       Long-Term Planning (3).
·       Speed Typing (3).
·       Manners (3).
·       Driving (2).
·       Pushbike riding (2).
·       Leadership (2).
·       Marketing (2).
·       Map reading (2).
·       Public Speaking (2).
·       Fishing (2).
·       Agriculture (2).
·       Persuasion (2).
·       Athletics (1).
·       Playing World of Warcraft (8) (a secondary skill currently undergoing Optimization: −8).

System Skills:
·       Insight (2).
·       Optimization (1).
·       Heroism (1).

System skill points available: 5.

But as for the money, I was slowly but surely running out. After I’d paid the rent on the new flat and bought the notebook, I had to shell out a lot for my individual boxing lessons and taking Vicky out from time to time.
I had put a certain amount away for a rainy day but I loathed to dip into it, determined to level up financial discipline. Spending is easy; saving and making the money grow is much harder.

* * *

THE TWO GRAND I had to pay my coach for every boxing session was quickly depleting my budget. If I wanted to continue training with what little money I still had left, I had to join the group. It would certainly be wise and much cheaper.
So once the next session was over, I stopped him, “Mr. Matov, I need a quick word with you.”
“What is it?” he glanced at his watch, apparently in a hurry. “Go on then but make it quick.”
“Do you remember when I first came you refused to let me join the group? Do you think I’m good enough now? Am I ready?”
He frowned. “When you’re ready I’ll let you know. In my personal opinion, you’re still a while behind the other guys. You’ll be holding them back. You’ve made some progress, I agree. You’re night and day compared to what you used to be. But they’re young guys who’ve been training since early childhood and you’re still a wimp. Every boxer that’s worth his salt will punch your lights out.”
“Yeah but-”
“Are you serious? Listen, I have an important tournament coming up and I won’t have the time to mollycoddle you in the group. It’s one thing when you pay for your own training and quite another when you start impinging on the time of the really promising guys who work hard to prepare for the competition. It’s absolutely out of the question. Carry on for another six months and then we’ll see.”
“But I don’t have money for another six months, sir! I could pay you for another couple of sessions and after that, I’ll either have to quit or look for another gym.”
“Does that mean you’re stopping with the one-on-one training?”
“I’m afraid so. Two more sessions is all I can manage. But I don’t want to give up boxing.”
“Now listen. I have to run. There’re people waiting for me. I have two groups: one trains Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the other Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Both start at 7 p.m. Come and we’ll see. If you can’t keep up, I’ll kick you out, as simple as that. You sign up and pay at the reception. That’s it, I need to rush. See ya!”
He left, leaving me to decide how to fit it into my schedule. I wanted to keep the weekend evenings free, just in case I wanted to take Vicky out. So it looked like it would have to be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Consumed by these thoughts, I was headed to the locker room when some jerk barged past me knocking my shoulder.
“Is the corridor not big enough?” he asked, swinging round. “I could cut you down to size a little bit if you want.”
I decided not to make a bit thing of it. “Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Yuri!” another guy called him from the boxing hall. “We’re all waiting for you! Get your ass in gear!”
“Coming!” Yuri shouted, then turned back to me. “Listen, are you the guy who trains with Matov?”
“Yes, and what of it?”
“Aha, I see now! You’re the daddy’s boy who takes private lessons every day. Fancy sparring with me?”
“No, thanks.”
“As you wish! See you around... wuss,” laughing, he disappeared into the hall.
Yeah right! I don't think so! He had Boxing all leveled up. Compared to his seven points, my four were a joke.
I looked at the calendar on my smartphone without which I wouldn’t be able to stick to a strict schedule. I wouldn’t even know which day of the week it was. Aha! Today was Wednesday which meant this had been the group which I wanted to join. No, I didn’t fancy training with such a bunch of uncourteous and unfriendly individuals.
Having thus come to a decision, I headed for the reception and laid the magnetic locker bracelet on the desk. A petite shapely blonde called Katia scooped up the bracelet and gave me my card.
“Are you all done, Phil?” she flashed me a pearly smile. “How did it go?”
“Everything went fine, thanks. Listen Katia, I’m stopping one-on-one training with Matov and transferring to his group. Can you sign me up for Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays?”
“Just a minute. When are you starting?”
“Next week. I’m leaving town for the weekend. I’ll finish up the one-on-ones for this week if it’s possible.”
“Of course,” she replied, tapping something into the computer. “Now: evening boxing sessions starting Tuesday at 7 p.m. Don’t be late otherwise Matov might not let you in.”
I smiled, remembering his proverbial ‘one minute late and it’s finished!’ “I know.”
“Are you gonna pay straight away? It’s four thousand a month.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have it on me. I’ll pay just before the session.”
“Very well. See you, then!”

* * *

BACK HOME, I was greeted by Boris the she-cat who complained bitterly, peppering her diatribe with a feline equivalent of f-words. I’d been out the whole day and she’d missed me. Having said that, she was probably just hungry.
“Can I at least change into something dry?” I begged. “I’m soaked through!”
Still, she wouldn’t leave me alone, rubbing against my legs.
My conversations with Boris — and with Richie before that — probably didn’t fit the pattern of a completely sane person. But I couldn’t help it. I understand that it’s probably naïve and stupid to see a human being in every man and animal. But that was just me.
I opened the kitchen cupboard. The shelf where I kept cat food was empty. I’d forgotten to buy it again. I had this urge to get dressed and rush out to the shop but hesitated. I really didn’t want to get wet again.
“Go and drink some milk,” I remonstrated with the cat.
Contrary to stereotypes, Boris wasn’t fond of milk. No idea why but she’d always preferred industrial cat food to milk and even meat. Could they be lacing it with something? Nevertheless, her hunger was so strong she attacked her milk with gusto.
Still, unwilling to upset her, I called Vicky.
“Hi,” she replied. “I’m coming over to see you soon.”
“Great, I’ll be waiting. Can you go past the shop for me?”
“Easy. What do you need?”
“Just some coffee and a bag of cat food. Could you bring that?”
“Not a problem. Kisses! See you soon!”
I turned on the TV for some ambience, peeled off my soaked clothes and threw them in the washing machine when I overheard an anxious voice off-screen,
“An all-points alert has been put out for Joseph Kogan, a six-year-old boy last seen in the local mall... dressed in... please contact the search and rescue team...”
That was the mall where I did my shopping! I hurried into the room to catch the precious snippets of identification data: the boy’s picture, date of birth... description and height. Now I had enough KIDD points.
I opened the map. He was alive! He was somewhere out of town, in the north east. I zoomed in to the max on the house. It didn’t look like a posh villa. I surveyed the outhouses and the fenced-off yard. A white SUV was parked by the house. I didn’t observe any movement; the boy’s marker was quivering on the map indicating that the object was moving around slowly inside.
I reached onto the bookshelf and pulled out a fat encyclopedia, reaching for a sturdy well-used Nokia stashed behind it. I’d bought several such antiques in a phone repair shop by an underground crossing specifically for occasions like this.
I got dressed, slid the phone, the charger and a SIM card into my pocket and went outside, calling Uber on the way.
So as not to get wet, I waited for the cab in the doorway. After about five minutes, a battered old Lada pulled up. The driver’s rating was very low and I saw why the moment we’d pulled away. He started grumbling, complaining about everything.
“Jesus Christ, I’ve just washed the car and now it’s bucketing down! It’ll take me ages to clean all those muddy footprints!”
I gave a sympathetic chuckle which he must have taken as me being contrary.
“Something you don’t like?” he snapped. “I’m in my own car! I can do what the hell I want! Where to?”
“I gave my destination when I booked you,” I said, slightly annoyed. I was trying to word a search query and he was distracting me.
“Is it so hard to give me an answer?”
“Absolutely not. Vernadsky St. 306.”
“Which Vernadsky is it?” he decided to show off. “The geoscientist?”
“Dunno. Maybe.”
“That’s young people for you these days! Nobody knows the history of their own country! When I was young...”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Vicky.
“Where’ve you got to?” she laughed. “Did you go out yourself to get cat food? Was Boris too impatient for her dinner?”
“I’m going to go and look at an office,” I adlibbed. “It’s a good offer, I don’t want to lose it.”
“No way! You don’t mean it! How cool is that? Okay, I’ll wait for you. You tell me about it later. I’ll cook something for dinner. Love you.”
“Likewise,” I took the telephone from my ear.
“He’s gonna look at an office!” the driver muttered under his breath. “Everyone’s a businessman these days. All those iPhones, offices, businesses... Everywhere you turn, it’s nothing but commerce!”
I tried to distance myself from his grumbling. I’d already come far enough to do what I’d intended to do when I’d left the house and ventured back into the rain.
I inserted the battery into the phone and waited for it to boot up. Then I typed a text message,

You can find the missing boy Joseph Kogan at a house located on the north east highway 20 miles from town. The exact coordinates are...

I sent the message to the two numbers I had for the search and rescue team, pulled the SIM card out, broke it, removed the battery, opened the window a crack and flung everything out by the roadside.
“Are you hot?” the driver asked, casting an unhappy glance at the window.
“Me? Yes, it’s a bit stuffy in here. Could you take me somewhere else instead? I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be going to Vernadsky St.”
Having lied to Vicky, now I had to lay the groundwork for my fib. I opened the map and searched for all business centers with rentable premises. I then narrowed my search to the offers of less then 500 square feet, security and cleaning staff included, in the immediate vicinity of my house with a rentable value between...
I found a suitable offer six blocks away from my place. I Googled it, then dialed the number given on the site but nobody picked up. Never mind. Even if there was no one in administration at this late hour, at least I could go and see for myself. That way I’d have something to tell Vicky.
That’s it, then. Let’s go there!
The driver kept grumbling. I looked up.
“Hello!” he demanded. “Where to now?”
“Chekhov St. 72, please.”
The moment I leaned back in the seat and tried to relax, my phone rang again.
The number didn’t show. For a while, I just stared at the screen wondering if I should answer it. It wasn’t as if I was afraid of phone calls from strangers but I was a bit reluctant to talk to the likes of Police Investigator Igorevsky just now.
Finally, I decided that the uncertainly was worse than taking the call from a potential police officer.
The driver, too, was getting annoyed. “Are you gonna pick it up or what?”
I did.
“Hello,” a strange male voice said. “You’ve just phoned our number.”
“That’s right. Is this Chekhov business center?”
“Yes, go on, I’m listening,” the voice urged, impatient. “What was it you wanted?”
“I called you about office rental. Could I come now and take a look?”
“What exactly do you have in mind?” he asked, all businesslike. “What surface area?”
“Something around five hundred feet.”
“We do have something to offer you! But I’m leaving in half an hour, do you think you can make it?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Good, I’ll meet you at the entrance!”
Even though he’d never introduced himself, he was apparently happy to land a potential customer. I too felt slightly elated. The initial reason for my phoning — my desire to justify my sudden disappearance from home — had already taken a back seat. I was already curious to see the office where I might possibly get my first assignment. What if I actually liked it?
We finally arrived at the center. The driver pulled up by the kerb without continuing to the parking lot.
“Have a nice day,” I sincerely wished him. He could use some positivity.
Without replying, he pulled away sharply as soon as I closed the door.
I took a good look around. The parking lot was almost empty if you didn’t count two rather shabby cars parked in the slots for the company administration.
The four-story Soviet-era building was rather squat and unpresentable. A massive concrete staircase faced with crumbling tiles led to the front doors. Two flowerbeds lined the entrance; a long-unkempt hedge grew along the fence. A cumbersome awning overhung the façade sporting an unassuming sign of vinyl letters, Chekhov Business Center.
I climbed the stairs and leaned my weight against the heavy wooden door. I was greeted by a typical office smell. The hall still preserved the aura of a Soviet-style government building, complete with the local version of Maxwell’s demon: an old lady doorkeeper sitting at a flimsy desk with an ancient rotary-dial telephone and deciding who deserved the right to be let in. Although apparently dosing off, she was nevertheless vigilant, my arrival provoking a knee-jerk reaction in her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked cantankerously the moment I’d crossed some invisible threshold.
“Good evening! Sorry I don’t know your name,” my Empathy prompted the right approach: as long as I showed respect to her age, everything would be fine.
“I’m Mrs. Pavlova.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Pavlova, I’m here about renting some space. When I called, they told me to come here for a viewing.”
“Who told you that? You know what time it is? There’s nobody here now!”
“Some guy but I don’t know his name.”
“Come tomorrow,” she announced, then mumbled under her breath, “I should have locked the doors, lazy cow...”
While she was still grumbling, complaining about all sorts of folk who kept “coming and going at every ungodly hour”, I dialed the number again. Before it even started ringing, the old lady waved her hands and exclaimed,
“Mr. Gorelik! You still here?”
“I am,” he mumbled, walking down the stairs in the company of a woman. “Do me a favor, Mrs. Pavlova, and try to at least pretend you’re not asleep!”
“God forbid!” the old lady exclaimed with another wave of her hands.
The man left his companion and headed over to me with a spring in his step. “Was it you who called me about the space?”
“That’s right. I just spoke to you not long ago. My name’s Phil.”
“I’m Stephan Gorelik. I’m the manager here.”
His female companion — an ample peroxide blonde with hair permed into tight curls — walked over to us. “Are we finished, Steve? I need to be off. My husband keeps calling.”
“Yes, thank you very much,” the man said with a faint smile. “I really appreciate your help.”
“You’re very welcome,” she replied with a blush, then left.
While Gorelik watched her leave, I quickly studied his profile.

Stephan Gorelik.
Age: 46
Current status: manager
Social status level: 6
Class: angler. Level: 5
Wife: Maria Gorelik
Children: Vasily, son. Age: 25
Criminal record: yes
Reputation: Indifference 0/30
Interest: 58%
Fear: 14%
Mood: 49%

The fact that his interest in me was pretty high was quite clear. When you have available premises that don’t pay for themselves, every new tenant is a feather in the manager’s cap. His rather average Mood could be explained by the long working day and possibly a missed lunch break. But fear? What could he be afraid of? Could it be just a light anxiety brought about by his adultery? Possible. Not wanting to increase his anxiety by focusing on his unzipped fly, I elected not to say anything.
“Come and have a look,” he called me, then asked as we climbed the stairs, “What kind of company have you got?”
“A recruitment agency.”
“How many staff have you got?” he asked, wheezing.
“At the moment, just myself,” I answered, then added, seeing the surprise in his face. “We haven’t started yet.”
We went up to the third floor. My eye fell on the ubiquitous fire hazard regulations on the wall next to a fire extinguisher. An endless corridor stretched out on both sides of us.
“To the right,” the man sighed.
He stopped by a metal door painted a cheerful light blue which admittedly didn’t look very serious.
“This one was previously occupied by some MLM guys,” he explained. “They sold makeup, perfume, that sort of thing. Things went well for them so they moved to the center.”
He sorted through a bunch of keys, found the right one, unlocked the door and gestured me inside, “Come in, please.”
As I stepped in, a faint wave of excitement swept over me. Behind my back, the manager flipped the light switch, flooding the room with a cold fluorescent light.
“It’s just been recarpeted,” he said. “The blinds are new. They even left a couple of desks and chairs behind as part of their rent. If you need the landline, you’ll have to have it reconnected.”
“And the Internet?”
“They’ll do it at the same time as they connect the landline. We have a permanent contract with the providers so they’ll get it all done within twenty-four hours. In total, it’s under five hundred square feet which will cost you forty-six rubles a square foot,” he produced his phone and made some quick calculations. “In total it’s twenty-three grand a month. If you pay for an extended period, I can give you a discount.”
“What kind of period? And what kind of discount?”
“If you pay upfront for the first quarter, we could make it twenty grand a month.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Think but not too long. A lot of people come and ask us about available premises and this office is the best we have. Would you like to look at something else? Something cheaper, maybe?”
I took another wander around the room to check out all the little thing that might need fixing or redecorating. The walls were a bit shabby in places, one of the plinths had come away from the wall; there was also an oily patch on the floor and a window catch that didn’t work.
“A thorough cleaning will cost you a couple grand,” the manager said. “Ad you can count the same for a paint job.”
“Thanks,” I said sincerely. Considering my lifestyle over the last years, I was a total noob in everything concerning cleaning, painting and decorating. If I made up my mind, I’d have to have a chat with Alik. He might know someone who could use a little job like this.
“Do you want to look at anything else?” the manager said impatiently. “I really need to go.”
“Yes, why not? Just to compare.”
Ten minutes later, we went back downstairs. Their other offers hadn’t impressed me at all. In fact, they shocked me. One of the rooms hadn’t been redecorated since Soviet times. Its parquet floor had sunk, its walls painted a ghastly dark blue to shoulder height, its window frames loose and crumbling. Another room was too big and a third one too small, resembling a broom closet. Having viewed this last one, I decided to do a bit of haggling for the first one.
“So,” I summed up, “is this all you have?”
“Not really. We have another room on this floor and four more on the fourth floor.”
“Could I venture a guess that they’re even worse than the ones we’ve already seen? This place is really in a state.”
“Well, you know, the owner won’t lay out anything for decoration,” he complained. “He says, let the tenants do it themselves. And you know what tenants are like these days... they can barely scrape together enough money to pay the rent and even then they’re late.”
“So seeing as you have so many unrented premises which bring nothing in, maybe you could bring the price down a tad for the first one? You now which one I mean, don’t you?”
“How am I supposed to charge less? It’s at rock bottom now! Twenty grand for a great office! All inclusive: the electricity, the heating, the cleaning and even security.”
I laughed. “Security? You mean that old lady by the front door?”
He gave me a bitter grin. “It’s up to you. I don’t have anything else to offer you.”
“I’d say, thirty rubles per square foot is all it’s worth. So taking into account the relatively recent decoration, the cleaning and security in the form of an ancient old lady, I suggest fifteen grand a month.”
“What do you mean, fifteen?” he seethed with indignation. “A great office like this with cleaning and security can’t cost less that nineteen grand a month! And that paid quarterly!”
In the end, we agreed on seventeen and a half. Gorelik gave me a week “to think it over”, promising to hold it for me for a symbolic advance.
In fact, I’d already made up my mind. The only thing I still had to “think over” was how to come up with fifty thousand rubles for the first three months.
My initial plan hadn’t counted on paying the advance; furthermore, I’d naively expected to talk him into being able to pay at the end of the month, hoping to find a few clients and make a bit of money. But the more I looked into the finer details of my idea, the more I realized I’d be lucky if I broke even straight off, with or without the advantage of the interface. Which was the reason why I kept delaying the launch, telling myself I had to level up a bit more.
The system registered the new task as a matter of course:

Find the rent money, sign the rental agreement and pay the Chekhov Business Center for the first three month. Deadline: July 1.

I paid Gorelik the two-thousand advance which went straight into his pocket, considerably improving his Mood.
Once back downstairs, I noted his cell number and bade my goodbye to him. As I headed for the door, I heard him giving the security babushka a good dressing-down for having let in a certain Veronica who apparently was a persistent non-payer.
“But that wasn’t me!” the old lady replied indignantly. “That was during old Tamara’s shift!”
As I rode home, I remembered the missing boy and checked the map. He was on his way back to town in an ambulance. Excellent. I just hoped he’d be all right.
Still, I kept getting this nagging feeling that all was not well with the boy.

[1] Dimedrol: a sedating antihistamine drug popular with Russian criminals
[2] Borsch: Russian beetroot soup

Release - December 10, 2018


  1. Thanks for posting this. I really enjoyed the first book and already pre-ordered the second one.