Back in the room, I turn on the cleaner, and look around my bachelor pad. My gaze lingers on the wall-mounted photograph of my grandfather, and I sigh. All right, it's time to get started. My date with my girlfriend is at seven, so I should wrap up everything else by six.

  Daria and I met in the game four years ago, in the drow starting zone, but we didn't start dating until last year. And the blame for that I cast right at Robert Salvatore's feet. Daria ended up being a big fan of his Legacy of the Drow series, whereas I selected the race purely for the racial bonuses: two percent to damage with daggers and two fewer talent points to max out stealth. Even my skin tone in the game is as light as a dark elf can get. Myself, being the furthest thing from a fanboy, I hold a healthy dose of mockery for all these role-playing dorks, but when the situation touches you personally, you suck it up and do what needs doing. And so I did. I called her, courted her, listened to her thoughts and ideas as I smiled and nodded, and even tried reading the saga about her favorite dark elf... Sadly, that didn't go well.

  I just couldn't accept the premise upon which the world depicted in the books was built. It was just too implausible for me—or anyone with even a passing knowledge of history. And it wasn't even about the matriarchy or the fact that the author wrote about a fantasy race that only distantly resembled humans. Rather, a society in which the destruction of ruling houses is not only allowed but encouraged by the very same ruling houses, with fighters of the losing side pledging unconditional fealty to the victors, is moronic by its very nature. Logic dictates that only one ruling house would remain after less than a century—more likely, the social order would be changed way before that happened. And to the fans clamoring that it's not the elves' fault but their goddess', I ask, what benefit does the goddess derive from all that madness? Daria failed to come up with a logical answer, and we didn't see each other for over three years since. Sure, I could have pretended to agree or even express my awe and delight with the story, but that wouldn't be right. I hold by the rule that if you want someone to be honest with you, you give them the same courtesy. I've been lied to and betrayed before, and I wouldn't want to experience that again.

  The devs were smart to recreate many of the elements described in the book in the game's social order, leading to an influx of Salvatore fans giddy to see the world of their favorite protagonist from the inside. Even if said world really wasn't all that similar. Unlike the classics, the drow of Arkon were created in contrast to the dwarven kingdom; similarly, dark elves feud against their light brethren up on the surface. The home of the drow in Arkon is called Anthrum, which is quite different from the classic depiction of the Underdark. Here, caverns can exceed dozens of square miles in diameter, with ceilings rising up thousands of feet. Louu, our capital, isn't much smaller than Vaedarr, the human capital in Erantia, and if the devs' claims are to be trusted, the length of our tunnels rivals the length of the roads of a large European country. We even have agriculture, seeing as mushrooms, fish and rothé[14] meat isn't anybody's idea of a proper diet. And some of the drow, mostly the common folk, choose to live on the surface and cultivate the land.

  Anthrum is comprised of fourteen major cities. The supreme governing body is the Council of Ten Matrons, with each Matron doubling as a high priestess of Lolth and leader of her own House. Yes, only ten Houses—yet another deviation from the books. Five Elder and five Lesser. I don't know the differences between them outside of their representation in the Small Council—I never cared enough to find out.

  The Council of Ten gathers twice a year for a fortnight. The rest of the time, the state is ruled by the Small Council, comprising twenty-five high priestesses of the goddess: three women from each of the Elder Houses, and two from each of the Lesser.

  The males of our race aren't quite as downtrodden, either. Some of them can even influence the politics of their House. Still, supreme authority is reserved for women exclusively. The devs have conceived the drow race to be pugnacious and disagreeable, but the growth and development of any society is founded on life, first and foremost. And as such, Bringers of Life stand at the helm. Such is the will of the goddess. Lolth can be as bloodthirsty and cunning as anyone, but she cannot be a dummy by default. There are nearly fifty gods in the Realm of Arkon, and Lolth isn't anywhere near on the weaker end of the spectrum. Which means that any deity foolish enough to pick a fight had better be prepared to suffer the consequences. As a result, conflicts between the drow and neighboring races never go beyond an occasional border skirmish. As far as I'm aware, at least. Domestic affairs, on the other hand, tend to be much more rife with conflict, temporary alliances, schemes and intrigues. Still, the goddess keeps her flock on a short leash. Drow may be a race of warriors, priestesses, dark mages and saboteurs, warlike like the Maori and the Kurds, but Lolth would never allow any serious harm, let alone total ruin, to come to her subjects. Those stories never made their way into Arkon from XX century literature.

  Done with my quick workout, I take a quick shower and feed the fish. Finally, I take a seat at my computer desk and wipe the dust from the computer screen with my hand. Time to check my inbox. The latest email is from the bank. My credit application was approved, and barely half a year since it was filed. Surely that has nothing to do with the sudden large deposit into my bank account... Except now I don't need any credit, you fools.

  Eleven emails from various gaming communities, and about a hundred others from complete strangers. All I wanted was to confirm that I got the money—as for the rest, I couldn't care less. And I certainly won't waste my day reading all those emails. I have no plans to join any communities, either. Clan bonuses are nice and all, but they don't justify the drawbacks in my case. If you want people watching your streams, you must rely exclusively on skill, depend on no one, and stick to extreme conditions. Nobody is tuning in to watch OP[15] fat cats coast to victory on superior gear and bonuses.

  Closing the window, I go to the Arkon site, brush away the greeting, and click the Store icon. With the amount of dishonorable killings on my conscience, the Diamond Premium has become a necessity if I wish to show my face in virtually any settlement. Sure, there are workarounds—the devs made sure of that. Every serial PKer[16] automatically unlocks the Persona talent after their hundredth kill, allowing them to change for a duration of five hours their appearance, name, race, class and level—up to ten percent from its true value in either direction. All the negative karma is forgotten for five hours, and you can walk in safety among city guards and even your own victims—outside of a few select places and NPCs[17] capable of seeing through the disguise. But the Diamond Premium will allow me to change my appearance for any duration of time. That should bring some much-needed variety to my game, and allow me to conduct a few long-planned operations besides. The cost surely ain't cheap, but it'll pay for itself in short order.

  Aside from Persona, my premium annual kit includes a fifty percent boost to experience gained, a one-time racial ability to reset all stats and skills, five ridiculous tattoos of my choosing, and a unique chest with a useful boost for my class or profession. Any sane person who isn't a gamer would balk at the seemingly exorbitant cost of the set, but for me, the kit directly translates to increased earnings. I couldn't care less about the additional XP or the tattoos, which are purely for bragging rights, and even the chest isn't anything to write home about. Whatever item it contains will disappear in a month unless used, and I am the only one who can use it, so I can't even sell the damned thing if I prefer gold over the item.

  Purchasing game currency is limited to three thousand dollars per character at the current exchange rate. Foolish, you say? Far from it! Without the limit, certain individuals and companies with their own consulates in Arkon could bring down the game's economy with ease. Instead, any person in pursuit of a mountain of gold is forced to hire players or buy it off farmers[18], thereby guaranteeing oodles of additional gameplay, millions of in-game jobs, steady growth of game capsule sales per annum, and profits to thousands of gaming-adjacent businesses. So, no, I'm not getting any gold from the chest, let alone any epic weapons or gear. I suppose I'd be satisfied with a kit of expendables like rare herbs or potions, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I zero in on the desired item in the store, pay the price, then shut down the PC, and get up from the desk. I'll save the unboxing for tomorrow—it's time to head out.

  Chapter 5

  I dress myself quickly, switch off the cleaner that has finished its work, then stop before the mirror and give myself a scrupulous once-over.

  The man looking back at me is skinny, roughly five eleven, with a triangular face, short light hair, a thin lip line and a dour expression. The only difference between my character and my real-world self is the pointy ears. It never occurred to me to change my appearance. Not that I consider myself a handsome devil—I just don't care enough either way.

  I smooth my hair and put on my coat. With a click of the electrolock, I walk out of the apartment and close the door behind me. I've long learned not to be late to a date with a woman—better I wait for her than vice versa.

  Winter this year has been abysmal. With fifteen days left to New Year's, it still hasn't snowed. Nothing but wet asphalt, bone-chilling wind, and bleak lamplight of street lanterns. Every year I try to convince myself that with my line of work I can live anywhere, but I've yet to muster up the resolve to leave for warmer pastures. Someday...

  I extend a greeting to a neighbor, presumably coming home from work, slide my hands into my coat pockets, and head towards the subway. It's exactly twenty-three minutes on foot, offering much-needed exercise for my sedentary profession, as well as a bit of time to think. And there is much to think about, what with today's battle marking a significant milestone in my life. For the first time in my thirty-three years on this planet, I feel an iron-clad sense of confidence in the future. Regardless of the second semi-finals match—regardless even of our performance in the finals against our next opponent—we're going to be fighting in the European Championship come early Spring. And for me that means a completely new tier—not only in terms of prestige, but also compensation.

  Not that I ever complained before, pulling down roughly five thousand Euro a month after taxes and equipment expenses. Still, public affection and game luck are fickle things, so the stability that comes with playing on a team this high on the food chain is certainly welcome. And it's a pretty decent achievement for someone who has been playing for only four years.

  On the whole, Arkon is undeniably generous with opportunities to earn a living. In fact, millions of people globally rely on the game for their livelihood, though it's not as easy as one might expect at a glance. Between the capsule and electricity costs, most people can't even afford the upfront investment, and the thousands of gaming centers sprouting up like mushrooms around the world are still nowhere near sufficient to meet the demand. And despite all that, in the year 2037, the number of online connections never dipped below twenty million, and that says everything. Whether crafting, grinding, or scouting unexplored territories—if you can dream it, you can make money doing it in Arkon. It is a veritable Klondike of the modern digital world. Politics and laws are governed by an ultra-powerful Sage class artificial intelligence that presides over tens of thousands of lower-rank AIs. Changing his settings is only possible by a seventy percent majority of the game's board of directors, which represent thousands of major corporations and even a few European states. And as long as the stock is growing, nobody is going to try changing anything. If anything, Sage's iron rule adds to the game's popularity in the eyes of the masses, especially when he squashes—with great ruthlessness and publicity—any attempts of governments and transnational corporations to implement in Arkon some of their corporeal laws and schemes. If not for Sage, the game world would be drowning in advertisements. Instead, we have the example of true innovation by the Coca Cola corporation. After developing a unique formula for a beverage taking into account certain game features and resources, some executive bribed an NPC official to have the product imported to Vaedarr—only to have the caravan carrying the first batch robbed by some band of haters. The company then took a step back, reworked and updated their formula, and nowadays kuhalo—a virtual twin of the ubiquitous real-world soft drink—is sold in practically every inn. Drop by drop wears the stone away, and it's possible that someday Arkon will turn into a magical copy of the Earth, but that is unlikely to happen in the next few dozen years.

  I wince at the gust of cold wind and slip a stick of gum into my mouth. My eyes linger on the bright lights of the stadium, and I can't help but chuckle. Maybe I do need a shrink. Here I am, about to meet take a woman out on a date, but my mind is still on the game. Then again, with weather like this, I really should be focusing on the positive. I could meet Daria in Vaedarr instead, but virtual food still has a ways to go to match the real thing. Kind of like real crab meat as compared to crab sticks made from mystery meat. As I result, I don't eat in Arkon unless absolutely necessary, content to leave virtual food for the virtual world. it's been nearly a week since I last saw my girlfriend, with me spending most of my time preparing for the match and her grinding those endless social quests[19]. Now a proper priestess, Daria is no longer the boisterous and immature girl from our first acquaintance, but a serious young woman whose worship of her virtual goddess extends partly into the real world. Sometimes I catch her whispering something resembling prayers in a strange tongue or speaking of Lolth as one might of one's own mother. And I'm not particularly freaked out by that. Some people are obsessed with aliens and government conspiracies, others start seeing ghosts at every turn after reading a Stephen King novel, so this is pretty harmless by comparison. If I were forced to spend all my days inside a temple, I'd probably be muttering prayers as well. Besides, everyone is entitled to their quirks, as long as they don't cause harm to others. And so far, her service to the drow goddess has had no material impact on our relationship.

  With half a mile left to the subway, the wind picks up and a nasty drizzle begins. I spend the rest of the way grimacing from the tiny drops, though they're not affecting my mood in the slightest. I pop into a flower shop and spend the next ten minutes trying to pick a bouquet. In the end, I give up and buy seven of the priciest roses, and with them some peace of mind. Next stop, the real world's version of the Underdark.

  The cozy cafe on Kuznetsky Bridge is warm and inviting with sounds of soft music and scents of almonds and coffee. I'm not late, but Daria is already here, waiting for me at a table for two. This isn't like her at all, and I can't help but feel a little tense. She looks flawless, as always, dressed in a white wool sweater with a turtleneck that underscores the golden shade of her swarthy complexion. A light touch of makeup accentuates her straight nose, short dark hair and perfectly symmetrical oval face. Daria may not be a beauty in the classical sense, but there's something about her that... No, I can't describe it, but I find it thoroughly enthralling just the same.

  "Hey there!" I hand the flowers to my girlfriend, then set a hand-carved wooden bracelet down on the table before her. "I thought you might like this."

  I know full well that Daria loves these wooden knickknacks, but that's only half the story. A man ought to give his date some kind of present any time they meet. Doesn't matter how small—it's the attention, the gesture that counts. A gentle reminder that you've been thinking about her. My very first girlfriend made sure to knock that truth into my head, though she reaped limited benefits from her efforts as we eventually broke up.

  "Oleg!" Daria glances at the digits on her iPhone screen, gets up and taps her lips to mine. "Fifteen to seven—I could set my watch to you."

  "It's a habit," I shrug as I take a seat and gesture for a waiter to come over.

  Both Daria and I like this place, and we often meet here for dinner. The establishment used to be a high-end French bistro, but times, they are a-changing. The antique windows, pristine white tablecloths and fancy crystal chandeliers are all gone now, replaced by the warmth and coziness of small round tables and bentwood chairs of dark oak. It's still France, only a tad closer and more relatable.

  After placing her order, Daria puts the flowers into a vase and proceeds to scrutinize the gifted bracelet. After about a minute, she slips it onto her wrist and raises her eyes to meet mine.

  "Thank you! I do so love rosewood..." The girl smiles and gives me a strange look. "You've surprised me, you know."

  "How so?"

  "I knew you were good, but I had no idea how good!" Daria shakes her head. "Taking down the mage and the huntress like that, one after another. I nearly lost my voice up in the stands!"

  I lose the gift of speech for a good five seconds. This is... unexpected to say the least. Daria never much cared for what I did in the game. Sure, she knew about my fighting, but always dismissed it as silliness. And she was right, for the most part. In the four years I've been playing, I ganked[20] players and NPCs, grew my reputation with the thieves' guilds and various other factions of the underworld, robbed merchants... In a word, I was waist-deep in Arkon's criminal underbelly just as my girlfriend was climbing the social ladder, serving in Louu's main temple complex and doing the bidding of its priestesses. And her efforts bore fruit a year ago when she was among the thousand select acolytes from the Spider Goddess' capital temple to be endowed with several unique talents and a significant boost to her magic power. I'll just say this: all else being equal, I would think twice before attacking a level 213 priestess of the goddess Lolth.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28