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THE OUTLAND 120
In general, Comrade Mashko is another shot. I didn’t believe for a day that he was just a modest head of another newfangled division. Game - evidence of the era. Yet the powers that be have finally recognized computer universes as one of the art forms. It's high time - in some of these projects, the picture, design and music are significantly superior in level to similar ones from completely different genres ... Cinema, for example.And Eduard Semyonovich was in charge of all this. First, in splendid isolation, a little later, having acquired a whole staff of impeccably hardworking homo robotics, and in the end - and immediately a deputy in my person.“Of all these morons, I can only trust you, Rob. - He used to say in response to my questions - they say, in honor of what such an honor. “You are the only one in the department besides me who has shown your willingness to circumvent or outright violate the prohibitions when it comes to something important. And I need people like that.D
THE OUTLAND 121
For ersatz coffee, of course, various meal substitutes seemed quite appropriate. Caffeine pills, multivitamins and tasteless protein bars from the science fiction novels of American pessimists. But no. It's funny, of course - having rejected pickles and complex cuisine, a person still remains a hostage to the taste palette. We are not cats, we cannot eat the same food for months. So my almost cosmic diet indulges me with the taste of teriyaki, then bolognese sauce, then carbonara. But the clever Edik is not shy, he honestly drags the real sausage from the fleet, albeit from synthetic meat.After breakfast, I finished the bottle of Elita, sent the packaging of the soy bar to the trash, but put the bottle on the windowsill - the eternal plastic, although it was considered biodegradable, was still recommended by the state for reusable use. The courier will arrive the day after tomorrow, pick up thirty bottles, in return put three blocks of water with electrolytes at the door - a month's
THE OUTLAND 122
Human civilization tends to elevate its new toys to the absolute, to break the psyche of its average representative on the knee so that in the end he cannot imagine life without the comforts, services, and opportunities familiar to him. So it was with lead plumbing in Rome, so it was in electrified Russia. And, of course, this is what happens in modern times - with the Internet, home delivery, taxis and a whole bunch of other variations, getting everything without contacting people.It's even funny how individualistic society has made us all ...But I'm not talking about that. Today I stumbled upon new evidence of the era. The very first fix in the ru-sector of the "aydab" forum was capslock: CONSORT-SERVICES! CHEAP!“So you understand, right? I opened the lock and scanned the text of the message."Chaos Academy Mercenary Guild provides services for escorting, farming, eliminating or protecting any targets. Low prices, high quality, successful experience in more than twenty projects!
THE OUTLAND 123
The world took a deep breath, closed his eyes… And took a step back!When I opened my eyes the next time, I found the door wide open and three uninvited guests on the threshold. In theory, enough to get worried, right?What is much worse - the guests were lying side by side in the doorway, showing no signs of life. Having overcome a slight nausea, I leaned over them - and immediately covering my mouth with my palm, I rushed headlong into the bathroom.Whatever killed them wasn't a bullet, a laser beam, or anything else that was instantaneous. It was more like something took and displaced a certain volume inside their heads by several centimeters - there were no brains scattered by the shot, not even blood. The displaced tissues tightly clogged the wounds, which made everything look innocent enough from the outside.But, unfortunately, I knew what it was. As well as something that can create something similar.Manyunya Anthea.And, of course, her younger sisters, who served us glorious
THE OUTLAND 124
And nothing has changed in the world. During my absence, Mekon not only didn’t make any progress on the part of the ritual, he didn’t even start it! The jester knows what this overgrown child could do, but I found him exactly where I left him - in a cold hut, sleeping under the skins. The shack did not include its own fireplace, or even a place for a fire - the tribe was going to cook at the public fires - so, of course, there was a quite logical oak tree in the house.However, it’s not for me to freeze - jumping up from the bed, I made the character do several energetic swings of my arms and tilts, dispersing the blood and warming it a little. There were even a few cakes on the table, baked by who knows who, but as a breakfast it will do. Another observation was that the sunbed of Mekon himself dominated the tiny room; no other furnishings could be found. So, again an orphan and a loner? The abyss of imagination, you will not say anything.And the thought of becoming an adult for som
THE OUTLAND 125
- What did you do there? she hissed. Tired of living?It's a shame. Humiliating. The sergeant didn't even take out his sword, he just slammed his fist in the teeth, Gaava too, out, spreading her hands. It's not fatal, and thus the update really works, but damn it, how humiliating and painful! None of the dispersing slaves even spared me a glance, neither sympathetic nor even indifferent. Slaves, indeed.And I'm a child slave. Which, even with a strong desire, armed with a stick, will not be able to do anything with an adult - be it three times smaller and lighter. Great start to a gaming session. It seemed that the ritual would indeed be indispensable, even if it caused the most dreary thoughts in Mekon. So it's time to go? Even if you don't want to, of course. And what do you want?There were plenty of plans, actually. For starters, sneak into the vicinity of the Great Church and get my old corpse there - the red eye has so far been my only valuable thing that I managed to get in thi
THE OUTLAND 126
In a world inhabited by people, there is always its own rhythm, its own pace. Even at night, while people are supposed to sleep, in theory, the real city never sleeps. But even in such places there is something that normal people jam with drugs and almost do not wince from the taste - Mondays. The time when the city dies out, as a reminder that the area here once did not know people. That is why it is so uncomfortable on a deserted November road - here such a Monday is always alive. Or, perhaps, the well-fitted cobblestones of the eternal path are specially laid here precisely as a reminder of transience and uselessness - passing here, grown-up children part with a whole heap of illusions, and this also acts as part of the ritual ... I don’t know. These are not my thoughts at all, this is Mekon whining again - the skin is warm, he is holding shoes, he is full, he has had enough sleep, everything is fine, so he is furious with fat.But in fact, in our case with him, even just getting t
THE OUTLAND 127
Mekon also knew these, so he was almost not frightened - you know, he made a gesture mechanically driving away evil spirits, but froze. Kikimors, if they start complaining, remember your name. They will drag it away, drag it into the water, drown it ... And in a couple of days they will feast on a swollen drowned man.Holding his breath, step by step, he backed away, back to the already seemingly less dangerous path. All these horsemen, soldiers, fighters, slave traders were now such simple and understandable guys! Well, they'll kick me once for warning, well, they'll take me to the nearest fortress for trial - either to Customs or to Huerta Moi. They won't kill or drown. After all, yes?Under the foot was a familiar stone, and from somewhere, no one knows where, came a familiar condescending chuckle. The spider is playing around, who else. And the beach slowly calmed down, kikimoras buried themselves in the sand, leaving behind a texture up to bizarre winding traces of the wind. Soon