a hundred times in the recording, but I never understood what he meant. That was clearly off-script too. And their levels, by the way, are off the charts, they have been in the game since day one.
But that other guy doesn’t care, because he is invincible, that definitely won’t affect him. The enemy is trapped, and he has a numerical advantage, yeah. And here it is, the most “heroic” decision! Kill everyone, so you can take the book. This isn’t raising money for cat food on crowdfunding, this is harsh virtual reality for you!
And you know what? All these “heroes” in armor, all this “empire” with its white flags, they all happily carry out the order. As if they were just waiting for it. They forgot, probably, that they wanted to “save the world,” not butcher people. Well, yeah, it’s just a game, so no one cares.
They storm into this temple, like hungry dogs on a bone. Cutting everyone down indiscriminately. Old men, women, children, who hadn’t managed to escape. And no morality, no meaning.
And all this just happens, you understand? Just like that, with a snap of the fingers. And we, watch it, and like we should feel something. But what is there to feel? Nausea from meaninglessness? Disgust for ourselves for allowing this to continue? I don’t know. But this is definitely not heroism. And it’s definitely not about glory. Just another piece of shit in this damned, virtual, and so similar to the real world.
But suddenly this world trembled, as if someone had kicked the server. And from the temple, like from hell, crawled out these… undead. Not some stylish zombies from Hollywood movies. No, this is complete trash. Rotten corpses, with falling limbs, with eyes full of hatred and some kind of stupid, animal malice. And the smell, was just terrible, as if it was not in the game.
And so our clean-cut hero Alex, realized that he, damn it, had miscalculated badly. He jumped on his griffin, that same one, white and shiny, and tried to get the hell out of there. As if nothing had happened.
But those dead, swarmed over the griffin, tearing its feathers, gnawing at its flesh, at this virtual flesh, which probably doesn’t smell of anything, but the sight of it all is still nauseating.
The griffin, that white horse on which Alex rode, crashed like a shot bird. Scattered into pixels, and, our hero, simply disappeared. Vanished under hundreds of dark monsters. As if he had never been there.
And the city… the city was covered in gray fog. As if someone had turned off the lights on the stage, and everything became gray, dull, dead. Eternal twilight. Or it was just a server failure. I don’t know.
But the strangest thing is not that. The strange thing started later, in reality.
They both died. Shortly after those events. Just as Grimnir had predicted. I saw articles about it on the internet afterwards. The one who played the emperor died in a plane crash. And Grimnir’s body was never found after his car fell from a bridge.
And the company “Dream” does not comment on this in any way, at all. They even use the aura of mystery to promote the game. Hello, two people are missing! Don’t you care?
And after that, you know, I don’t play those games anymore.
III. THE PARTY WASN’T A SUCCESS
When Max entered the house with the VR box in his hands, his friends, invited for his birthday, were in the same poses he had left them in when he had left. Artem, the 15-year-old son of Aunt Olga, sat on the sofa in the living room with the projector remote in his hands, and his gaze was fixed on the broadcast on the wall, where footage from a documentary-entertainment show dedicated to retro-battles in virtual worlds was unfolding. “Legends of Online Battles” was one of those shows that constantly inserts analytics from VR experts and archival interviews with eyewitnesses. The red-haired girl next door named Daria sat here nearby in an armchair, staring at her phone, as if trying to find salvation from the boredom of the surrounding world in it. Today, she was the personification of the apathy that seemed to have infected the entire generation.
“What’s that? What did you get?” Artem, who had recently celebrated his fifteenth birthday, whom Aunt Olga and Max’s mother had repeatedly tried to befriend by bringing them together, jumped up from his chair, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity, seeing the gadget. He had dark hair and swarthy skin, inherited from his father, Aunt Olga’s husband, Vladislav.
“Is that VR? So you can join us in the raid on the ‘cursed lands’! Join us while it’s not too late, we need everyone. Of course, you won’t be of much use, but you’ll still get an achievement as a participant. Such global events rarely happen. So don’t miss your chance. This time, the light forces will definitely reach the castle and destroy the Twilight King!”
“No, I don’t think I’ll be playing this. I don’t want to be a zombie stuck online for days. I want, you know… to still be in reality,” Max put the box on the table.
“What are you talking about, it’s the best game of all time, okay, before you couldn’t play because of parental controls and age restrictions, but now what? Have you heard who leads the clan ‘Mercenaries from the North’ – Boris and Vic! Bullies from our school! Maybe we can start a acquaintance, we will raise our social rating at school. And such events are rare. Come on, they gathered all the adventurers, received help from the imperial bot-legion, and all the kingdoms of light sent their best warriors. What’s the point of living if not for such battles? Daria and I would first help you level up your skills, take you through dungeons, raise a couple of levels together. And into battle!” Artem seemed to be a little hooked on games. Even today, when he came to visit, he spent half the day in the game chat and on forums dedicated to the game. Like Daria. “The whole summer is ahead, what will you do if you don’t play?”
“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll sign up for the archaeological expedition with our historian Fedorov. It seems like he’s recruiting people again now,” Max replied.
Daria, who had been staring listlessly out the window, cast a fleeting, interested glance at Max. A spark flickered in her eyes, as if she had momentarily seen in him something different from the rest, something deeper and more real. But she immediately returned to her contemplation.
“To that old alcoholic? Hauling stones all summer? Give it up, there are only losers and nerds there.”
“The cake will be ready in 5 minutes!” Max’s mother’s voice came from the kitchen.
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up, I’ll just take this upstairs.” Max pointed to the VR.
Max’s room was in such a state of disarray that even the most experienced chaos researchers would probably have given up upon seeing it. Things were scattered everywhere, each seemingly trying to tell its own story, but like Max himself, they weren’t too sure what exactly they wanted to convey.
In a place of honor stood a trophy with figurines of fighters, won at a martial arts tournament where Max, as usual, took not first but third place. It was a pretty impressive achievement, except that his persistence in training lasted only until he realized that martial arts lacked magic and dragons. The trophy seemed to know about his short-lived passion and looked at its owner with bitterness.
The computer, on which an unfinished program was open, reminded him that Max had once dreamed of becoming a great programmer like his father. However, as often happens with dreams, he soon lost interest in them, leaving the project in a state of “still in progress.” In this place, technology and inspiration met to exchange glances before parting forever.
A small green tree – a bonsai – stood in the corner, like a wise elder who, despite all the chaos around, remained calm. Max sometimes came to it to reflect on life, but in the end, he often just forgot to water it. The bonsai seemed to know that its fate was to witness the strange reflections of a young philosopher who didn’t always remember his responsibilities.
A poster from a NASCAR race that Max had once