Sergey LUKYANENKO LABYRINTH OF REFLECTIONS Our work in the dark - We do what we can, We give what we have - Our work is in darkness. Doubts have become a passion, And passion became destiny. Everything else is art Be yourself in madness. Anthemхакеров, русский вариант. ЧАСТЬ ПЕРВАЯ. ДАЙВЕР OO Хочется закрыть глаза. Это нормально. Цветной калейдоскоп, блестки, искрящийся звездный вихрь - красиво, но я знаю, что стоит за этой красотой. Глубина. Ее называют "дип", но мне кажет- ся, что по-русски слово звучит правильнее. Заменяет красивый ярлычок предупреждением. "Глубина!" Здесь водятся акулы и спруты. Здесь тихо - и давит,presses, presses endlessly infinite space, which actually no matter. In general, she is kind, deep. In my own way mu, of course. She accepts anyone. To diving requires a little strength. To reach bottom and come back much more. First of all, we must remember - depth is dead without us. You must both believe in it and not believe it. Otherwise, the day will come when you will not be able to dive. O1 The first movements are the most difficult. Room small, table in the middle, harnesses wires from the computer stretch to the UPS - installation uninterruptible power supply tank, in the corner, and further - to the outlet. A thin wire goes to telephone line. By the wall, under the luxurious carpet, by the open door to the balcony - small refrigerator. The most necessary things. Five minutes ago I checked what was in refrigerator, so hunger is coming I'm not in danger for a day. I turn my head, left, right - for a moment it gets dark in the eyes, but that’s just second. Nothing. Happens. - Is everything okay, Lenya? The speakers are adjusted to maximum, II wince and answer: - Yes. Quiet the sound. “The sound is quieter,” agrees Windows. Home" - quieter, quieter... “That’s enough, Vika,” I stop. good program. Obedient, understanding and kind desirable. Not without conceit, like everyone else Microsoft products, but with this advent trying to make peace. “Good luck,” says the program. - When you- should I wait? I look at the screen - there, in an orange halo, sparks emit, a woman's face floats. Young, nice, but overall - nothing special - th. I'm tired of beauty. - Don't know. - I would like to have ten minutes to myself- control. - Fine. But no more. In ten minutes I will need all the resources. The face on the screen wrinkles - the computational program lazy with keywords. “Only ten minutes,” he says obediently. "Windows Home". - But I again turn yours Please note that the level of tasks does not always correspond to the volume of my opera- active memory. Expansion to... “Quiet up,” I get up. "Quiet down" is a no- conditional order, after it the program will he doesn’t dare to fight. Step left, step right... Haha. No, this is not an attempt to escape, this is rathervoluntary imprisonment. I'm getting to refrigerator, open the door, take out the I open the Sprite ku. The drink gets cold throat. It's almost a ritual - the depth is always dries out the mucous membrane. With a can in my hand I go out on the balcony on a warm summer evening. It's almost always evening in Deeptown. The streets are lit by the light of advertisements, the rushing quietly rumble cars. And they go, they go in a continuous stream of people, di. Twenty five million permanent population - the largest metropolis in the world. From the height of the eleventh floor, faces cannot be seen lie down. I finish my Sprite and throw the can downstairs and return to the room. “Unethical...” mutters the computer. Not reacting, I go out into the hallway, put on my shoes, I open the door. The entrance is empty and bright, very very clean. While I'm busy with the deputy com, trying to fly into a half-open door tiny bug. Yeah. Lamers are having fun. I watch with irony the persistent insect we wash - an even flow of air blows from the apartment - ha, taking it back. Finally the door closed dug, the bug beats in the last effort door, a short flash - and an insect pa- gives it to the floor. - File a complaint with the owner of the house? - ask- says "Windows Home". Now the voice is coming from silver pins on the lapels of my shirt - ki. “Give it to me,” I agree. I forget everything explain to the program that the owner of the houseI am myself. The elevator is waiting for me on the floor. Usually I'm down I repent on the stairs... I look in on the way other people's apartments. There's no one there anyway doesn't live... but now I'm in a hurry. The elevator is down repents - very quickly. I go out onto the sidewalk I look around - maybe I’ll see an amateur insects? But there's no one suspicious everyone is in a hurry to do business. The bug is clearly vagrant, serial work. They are harassed in the streets, beaten in apartments, but they are not translated. I myself once had fun like this nonsense. Very, very rarely, bugs succeed I wanted to bring some interesting information. - Lenya, in the name of the company "Polyana" la complaint from tenant number one. “Ignore,” I mutter, watching the walk- a man walking along the sidewalk. Yes, this is something! Hybrid of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his youth dy and Clint Eastwood in the elderly. Very, very funny. The man catches my mockery - glance and quickens his steps. I raise my hand, and a moment later the A yellow limousine slows down. - Lenya, your complaint to the Polyana company ignored! - OK. Nothing. This could go on forever but I have no time for games now... I get into the car Well, the driver is a smiling guy with a perfect river hairstyle and a starched shirt ke,turns to me. I prefer the one taxi drivers, well-trained and laconic nykh. - The company "Deep-Conductor" is pleased to welcome- howl you! He doesn’t give a name - the program has stopped. drove a taxi anonymously. - How will you pay the bill? “Like this,” I say, taking it out of my pocket. on a revolver. I hit the guy hard on the temple. He tries to defend himself, but doesn't have time. I I look at his pale face, shaking I grab you by the collar and order: - Al-Kabar quarter. “This address does not exist,” he says. driver. He is “stunned” and subdued. - "Al-Kabar". Eight-seven-seven-three-in- seven, - a simple code gives access to service addresses of "Deep Explorer". I could would not hit the driver, but then in the files the company would have received information about the trip. “The order has been accepted,” the driver smiles, he again cheerful and helpful. The car starts moving. I look out the window - residential areas flash by, filled with skyscrapers with all sorts of small noise sheroy of Deeptown, huge, luxurious offices companies. There are the long gray IBM cases, lush Microsoft palaces, openwork towers "America On Line", more modest offices other computer legislators. Of course, there are also plenty of offices of sales companies furniture, food, real estate, tourismagencies, transport companies, clients nickname... more or less viable company niya seeks to open its own in Deeptown representation. "Deep Explorer" thrives on this abundance. Travel around the city on foot - long entertainment. We are rushing along the highway radam, slow down at intersections, turn We go into the tunnels and cross the junctions. I'm waiting. It would be possible to order the driver take the shortest route - but then he... would need to contact the control room. And I would leave a mark... The city ends suddenly - like a wall palaces and skyscrapers are cut off by gigantic with a knife. Ring road, behind it is a forest. Thick, dense... separating from the bustle those who do not want to advertise themselves. “Slow down,” I say as we pass mango thickets and we drive past completely Central Russian thicket. - At the next tro- kicks. “It’s still a long way to the Al-Kabar quarter,” says the driver. - Stop it. The car stops. I open the door I take a step away from the limousine. The driver complied but waits. And I too - there is a gap in the road. Why do we need witnesses? Here it is, finally... I aim at the car and shoot. Revolver it hits quietly, the recoil is weak, but the machine instantlyflares up. The driver sits, looking in front of you. A few seconds - and "Deep conductor" becomes one taxi less. Fine. Let everything look like fun the sound of drunken punks. I'm going into the forest. - Unethical... - Vin mutters from the pins Dow's Home." - Have you optimized? - Yes. - That's it, now I need help. Look for thai- nickname, code "Ivan". “Glowing tree,” says the program. ma. I look around. Yeah. Here it is, a huge oak tree, flickering with a magical blue light. Merz- only for me. I go up to him, I put my hand into the hollow, take out a large pull- yellow package. I change into linen clothes white shirt and trousers, belted with a pattern - chatted belt. Short sword in sheath, carried how many things are in your pockets. I created a cache a couple of days ago, illegally using one of the transport department computers of the Transcaucasian railway. It's weak there Even programmers won't notice for a long time this little invasion. -Where is the stream? - I ask. - On the right. I am bending over the running water, looking into reflection. I hit him several times donya, then I startmove your finger, sti- heaven's appearance. Instead of me from trembling mirror, a fair-haired statue is drawn tough guy. The face is good-natured and unpretentious ad nauseam. “Thank you,” I say to the program, straightening up. I promise. I’m standing, admiring the forest. Damn it How long has it been since I left the city? stench... “Aren’t you waiting for me, good fellow?” - they ask from behind. I turn around - out thick bushes comes out huge, chest-deep I'm tall, a wolf. “Maybe you too,” I say, admiring the waves. com. Damn great! He really completely gray, and not just gray - exactly blackish with gray wolf color. Some where the wool was matted, to the front right a burdock stuck to my paw. - Should I eat you, good young man? kids? - asks the wolf and grins. Fangs yellow, like a smoker's teeth, one broken off under the root. A seasoned, experienced wolf. -Why are you boasting in vain, about God- Are you running into trouble with the Tyr sword? I improvise. - Do better service! The wolf smiles and sits down. - How will you pay, hero? “Three thousand green each,” I say. The wolf nods with satisfaction and rubs his paw muzzle. Asks: - "Al-Kabar"? - I guessed it.- Mission? - Theft. - Who is the customer? I shrug. The answer is just as rhetorical Ridic, like the question. Customers of publicity they don’t like it. “Let’s try,” the wolf decides. -Are you ready? - Quite. - Sit down. I climb onto the back of the wolf, and he doesn’t- runs at a hasty trot through the forest. I'm instinct- I actively dodge the branches, the wolf subtly giggles. Okay, let him have fun. A couple of minutes later we jump out of the forest. There is yellow sand underfoot. It's hot, very hot It’s hot, gusts of wind make you squint. Ahead is an abyss a hundred meters wide, behind it is the eastern city. Minarets, cupolas lah, everything is in orange-yellow-green tones. Quite beautiful. Not far across the abyss transferred... hmm... well, let's call it mo- vol. A string-thin thread. One end of it ends on the wall that encircles the city, the other holds in his hand an ugly stone The statue is about ten meters high. The muzzle of the thuja is disgusting. “There will still be work,” the wolf notes. Didn't you sell yourself short, Ivan Tsarevich? - And God knows... - studying the statue of... I'm stealing. - I was warned about the bridge... - Steal what?- Bulk apples... - Ah, that’s what this masquerade is for... - wolf giggles again. - What's in apples? “I don’t know,” I jump off the wolf’s back, I stand with my hand on the wool. - Listen, I'm on I'll drink some lemonade in a second... “Go ahead,” says the wolf, looking around. I close my eyes. Depth-depth, I'm not yours... Let go me, depth... I jerked and stood up. Before my eyes - blood little screens with desert on them, about mouth, statue, city in the distance. Very good drawn. Al-Kabar has good designs ners. The virtual helmet is heavy, it is the most tossed" model from mass-produced "Sony". With beautiful color screens, excellent speakers and built-in microphone rofon, with air conditioning blowing on the face air at the required temperature. Now it's desert heat... I took off my helmet and put it on table, next to the computer keyboard. On a familiar female face appeared on the monitor, came from the speakers: - Lenya, are you interrupting the dive? - No, wait. In the real world my room is the same as in virtual space. Only outside the window is not a summer evening in Deeptown - rainy St. Petersburg's rainy autumn. A light rain is drizzling Dick, a car honks in the distance. Iopened the refrigerator Dilnik, took a can of Sprite. I'll have a drink real... Unable to resist, I looked out balcony. An empty can, which is in virtual in nom space I threw it out onto the street, there Of course not. Well, let's eliminate the differences. My hair was sweaty, I wiped it with a on a chair with a shirt, sat down at the computer, believed the cable coming from the virtual space tyum to the computer's deep board. Work suit tal, slightly slowing down his movements, as if I walked on the sand. My left leg was dragging a little stronger - the program crashes again. Okay, then we'll calibrate. Putting on a helmet is like putting on a go- I put it in the oven. These are the bastards from Al-Kaba- ra", surrounded themselves with the most unpleasant conditions... I looked at the virtual world again, but for now it is conventional, like a cheap cartoon. Zer- dull image, beautiful, but rough ty drawing. Pull out a larger computer can't. No need. What is depth without a person? century? I blinked, relaxed, trying to enter virtuality yourself. Of course not what doesn't work. I'm not in the desert, I'm at home behind the keyboard... I had to extend my hand, and type the command: deep And now - "input".Colors flash across the desert deep programs. For a second I still saw the screen - cheeks, the soft lining of the helmet, then the consciousness the river began to float. The brain tried to resist shout, but where is it going? The deep program is valid howls at everyone. They just come across them - with a frequency of one for three hundred thousand, people who do not lose up to end of connection with reality. Capable swim out of the depths on your own. Divers. Me, for example. The wolf grins at me. - Did you wet your neck, hero? - Yes. I look around myself - is everything okay? Mine the body in virtuality is a simple drawing, transmitted by a computer to one or another point of Deeptown and its environs. But sword on the belt, and little things in the bag - not easy that's a drawing. These are “shortcuts”, frag launchers ments of programs that will now become necessary. “We act like this,” I decide. - Across the bridge I'm going on my own. Then I bring out the trophies, and we are working. “It’s up to you,” the wolf agrees. I'm walking on the sand, the hot wind doesn't stop - xia, it even seems that the grains of sand are tingling eyes. This is no longer the merit of the helmet. This is mine the brain feels what it should feel inreal desert. The statue is getting closer and more real. Horned head with bared mouth, lumpy stone paw muscles. Ifrit, probably. I'm weak in Arabic mythology. In the left Ifrit's hand clutches a thin thread. Horsehair bridge. I begin to climb up the monster’s leg. How ridiculous my body looks now empty apartment - twitching, tightening struggling for air... don't get distracted... The last meter is the most difficult. leaning on a spiky stone knee, I'm trying to grab it - Holding your hand - it doesn’t work. Surely there are legal visitors to Al-Kabar some other way... I have to first climb granite phallus of a monster. I hear like a wolf giggles. Crap. He's funny... Finally I'm in the palm of your hand. I try the thread with my foot - she sways slightly. Like a string. Below, far, far away, rocks and blue river snake. - Be brave, hero! - the wolf screams. Ordinary virtual workers cannot walk around this bridge. Something's wrong... The palm on which I stand suddenly begins tremble and slowly shrink. Bridge-thread trembling, ready to burst. And above me on- hangs the grinning muzzle of a revived monster. - Who are you? - he roars so that he lays ears. In Russian, by the way! - Guest! -I scream, trying to pull my legs away from the grip of granite fingers. The monster laughs: - A guest does not come with forbidden things! The index finger of the right hand rushes towards to me, as if intending to flatten it. Not- I squint my eyes freely. But the monster only points his finger - pointing at the sword. Yes, this is not a simple defenseless program ramma-driver of the "Deep Conductor". This is from- personal watchdog system with pseudo-intelligence Lektom is an order of magnitude better than Windows Home. How did he determine my native language? - A guest does not come uninvited! - They called me! - Who? We'll have to go all in... - You have no right to hear his name! “I have the right to do everything,” says the monster. And the fingers clench. Now there must be an exit to reality ness. As a consequence of the “deadly” actions. Otherwise - the brain can imagine a real painful shock, with all the consequences. Only a suicide would turn off the fuses deep programs. Or a diver. My mutilated body lies in the palm of my hand monster. The skull is flattened, one eye is looking rit into the dusty hot sky, the other - into the ka- replacement nail. Ifritloud, satisfied but he laughs, then shouts: - You, who came in the guise of a wolf, remember his fate! Yeah, that's how he defined the language... heard our conversations. However, he didn't have enough "smart" to understand who he is dealing with... The monster turns to stone again. I'm still waiting kundu, then I get up. The body slowly frays together. Normal user deep technology would now wake up in reality ness, in front of the reproachfully squealing com- pewter. Does the watchdog program "Al- Kabara" existence of divers? The monster is motionless. I've been dead for a long time dead... I carefully step on the hairline bridge... - Who are you? Again... Apparently, he reacts precisely to touching the "bridge". Horseradish is not sweeter than radish. “The one who is not in your power,” I answer. - Whose power are you in? Something new. “Allah,” speaking at random. This time the monster smacks me free hand, so I partially re- I'm flowing over the edges of my palm. And edifyingly says: - It’s not for you to remember the name of the Great, thief. The wolf rolls on the sand laughing. I see this is with the eye that survived. Yes, there is humorprograms are more American, than Arabic. I lie there thinking. I get up sleepy va. The monster is still motionless. - Vika, is there a way around? - I ask. - This is the only external channel, - not - my computer reports it is slow. Voice floats and loses intonation... and really it should buy more memory... - All other lines Al-Kabara opens only internally I will order him. - Forceful solution? - I touch the handle sword. Local virus program tiny, you don't even need to pump it out at home. Draw your sword, strike, and... - The channel will be destroyed. Yes, sure. It's not for nothing that the monster holds the bridge in hand. Destroy the watchdog program - in- the gloss over the abyss will be torn. - Infection. - I didn't understand. - Quiet... I'm looking at the monster. Stone Ages Half- covered, with a stalactite hanging from its mouth saliva. This is just an appearance, an entourage for faint-hearted virtual workers. The usual "hundred" vein" on the input gate. Somewhere in the depths Bine "hair" there is a communication channel with the quarter "Al-Kabara". There are signals there, ordering calling - to let through, or to destroy non- next guest... - Hey, Ivan Tsarevich, I’m in a hurry! - shouts wolfYes, we need to act. While the program scattered me autonomously, but the next once again, it’s quite possible they’ll get involved the real programmers of Al-Kabara. And virtualists, and conservatives. “Animate the shadow,” I order. The dark silhouette on the palm begins to move pours, gains volume, straightens, filled with colors. I'm giving birth to twins - ku, he grimaces in response. “Lead the shadow,” I order. “Look for the password.” A second pause - the car turns the wheels, loading into the memory of the “shadow” everything that is known but about "Al-Kabar". Then the double walks to the bridge. Of course, this won't do anything. Cro- me time. - Who are you? - the monster roars, grabbing the shadow. I I barely dodge the moving fingers, crawling along a tightly clenched fist, jumping on thread... -Who are you? - comes from the back. And swing right hand knocks me down to the feet of the monster. I'm falling to pieces. I'm lying on my back, talking floundering in the palm of the statue double Yes, he did a good job... high quality... - Who are you? - the monster asks again. - The one who is not in your power is a double continues to distract the watchman. - Whose power are you in? - Yours. I wonder how much longerthere are deaths in store from a monster for thieves? Look at the teeth horns... hmm, well, a phallus will do just fine... - Why did you come here? - Find power over yourself. - Go ahead and find her. The hand unclenches, the monster turns to stone. I I lie there, gasping for air. Double motionless stands on the edge of the palm. - Vika, where did the shadow’s answers come from? - From the open file "Al-Kabara" "Proceedings" fool of a virtual request for provision Research Institute of Work". The wolf comes closer and whispers: - What happened? I'll explain. - Ivan Tsarevich, and you, for an hour, are not Ivan-do- cancer? - asks the wolf. I have nothing to cover. Of course, it was necessary to com with all files. Not only with stolen data about the internal virtual al space of the quarter. - Vika, merge, - I command. It's like I'm being pulled into the "shadow". Now this body is the main one. Already missed on bridge However, the victory is Pyrrhic. The guard repelled said that the visitor was trying to rait bridge. So they will meet me. And a loner trying to fight crowd, doomed. In any space even virtual.Okay, nothing to do. It's time to go... moose bridge. To be honest, the procedure is practically possible. Even for a professional nato-walker. A bridge is precisely a thread over a pro- mouth. Al-Kabara towers in the distance are tempting and out of reach. Depth, depth, I'm not yours... I closed and opened my eyes. In front of me is a car- teen - abyss, thread above it, buildings away. It’s even funny... Looking at my feet, I began to carefully rearrange his feet threads Just a picture. There's no gravity here, eh the drawn body does not have a center of gravity tin. Just step on the thread and everything will be fine ok... It's funny - it turns out that the bottom is about- the mouth is almost not drawn... which means I imagined the mountain river myself... someone another would have seen clumps of trees beneath him, or lava flows... Now that my subconscious is not involved plays in the game, the distance is covered quickly. Half a minute - and I'm on the other end bridge. The thread goes into the crest of the fortress wall. The ridge is wide, and two people are already standing on it, obviously waiting for me. Very well drawn Vans are these fat-bellied big guys with fur- chami on belts, one in a turban, the other bald... Stepping onto the “bricks” of the wall, I whispered:- Vika, turn on the deep... Fiery sparks before the eyes. Yes, evil- I consume today by disconnecting-connecting- knowledge of the subconscious. Tomorrow is guaranteed painful pain, palpitations, weakness. But nothing. I wish I could live until tomorrow... And here are the greeters - already in normal condition human form. “You got there quickly, guest,” says Ly- sy. He has the good-natured face of an Arab- security guard from the children's production of Sinbad- sailor. The second is equally cartoonishly ara- buff, but looks much more sinister sparkles with his eyes and doesn’t let go sword hilt. Yes, I only need a combat virus there wasn't enough for the car... - Do others get there slower? - I ask I. - No one has crossed this bridge yet, - the bald guard kindly reports. - It's not it is humanly possible to maintain balance this is on horsehair. “Then heaven is empty,” I sigh. It seems- Well, it’s no longer I who lead the events, but they lead me. Not I like this twist. “But there’s enough room in hell for everyone.” A good promise. - Went. Well, let's obey. Let's be obedient and polite. They don't interfere with someone else's monastery with its charter... Down withthe walls lead up to a wide steep staircase face. Let's go down. Good-natured security guard in front, a snuffling ill-wisher behind. I diligently ignore him, I only look at the bald head of a good-natured man. Right on top ke - big wart. I wonder if she is it really drawn, or is it ironic subconscious? But to come out of the depths for the sake of checking such a small thing is unwise. To be continued later...
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