《The Knockout (Level Up side story)》


 CHAPTER ONE. THE HALLUCINATION

    ¡°I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow in the knee.¡±


    Skyrim


    EVEN THOUGHMike Bj?rnstad Hagen was partly of Scandinavian extraction, he resembled a Viking roughly the same way a Chihuahua resembles a Great Dane. He had a variety of nicknames such as¡°Crybaby Mikey,¡±¡°Little Mikey,¡±¡°Mikey the Wimp,¡±or even¡°Hey, you cocksucker!¡±No one has ever referred to him as¡°Mr. Hagen.¡±


    The only time it almost happened was during a visit to a bank Mikehadvisited once in hope of getting a mortgage loan.¡°I''m so sorry, Mr. Hagen, but your loan request has not been approved,¡±said the man behind the counter without so much as trying to refrain from grinning smugly.


    Mike would have smashed his face gladly if he only knew how to fight.


    A home...A dream of a home of his own, one he could share with little Jessie, was all thathadkept him going for three years. Then Jessicahaddeserted him for a trucker thug from Arizona¡ªor was it Texas? At that point, it didn''t really matter anymore.


    What did matter, however, was that Hagenhaddated no one for the following five years, and the reason certainly wasn''t his pining for Jessica¡ªthere was none. It was just that no one ever found him interesting enough, including Sheila, a glum Gothgirl covered in tattoos, who worked inthe shop across the road. The shop sold comics, and Hagen would frequent it to buy fresh issues ofRat QueensandExtremity.


    There was an occasion when Mike hadhadquite a few at Chuck''s Barandmanaged to get brave enoughtoinvite her to see a movie¡ªanother installation ofThe Avengers. That was when Hagen had the temerity to declaim, feeling brave and cocksure,¡°Girlfriend, how about taking that glorious body of yours out with the coolest guy in the neighborhood?¡±


    Sheila was flabbergasted.¡°Cool? You, of all people?¡± Shethengave him the textbook phrase about him being the last man on the planet and her utter reluctance to spend any amount of timewith him even in that scenario.


    Mike didn''t wait for her to finish the sentence.Hitbythe realization of him having been rejected,his brain instantly launched the standard coping mechanism Hagen had developed back in grammar schoolwhenever he¡¯d beencalled a freak and gottenpeltedbya barrage of leftovers at the school canteen:¡°See no evil, hear no evil.¡±


    He barely managed to move his legs, which seemed like foreign objects, as he left the comic shopnever to return. Thenceforth, hehad to order his comics onlinewhich isn''t quite the same thingas everybody knows.


    Hagen didn''t bear any grudges against Sheila. But how could he ever visit her shop again? That would be the worst humiliation one could possibly think of.


    Then there was the evening when he¡¯dcome home from work¡ªa Friday right after Thanksgiving. However, a family holiday seemed like any other day to Hagen. He''d never seen his father, and his motherhadpassed away a couple of yearsback.


    Hagen''s mother was the only person in his life he''d ever truly loved. Some might have called her love overbearing, but Baby Mickey could never even think of itlike that. She was his mother, after all¡ªas well as his friend, and the most interesting person to talk to. Jessie tried to claim this part¡ªit seemed like a success for a while¡ªbut then she walked out on him. When Hagen returned to his mother after his first¡°life cruise,¡±as his Uncle Petehadput it, mother was already deathly ill. The doctors said her treatment would have a thirty-percent chance of success, but there wasn''t any money to pay the medical expenses, anyway. Another thing was that he''d have to go to Philadelphia. How could he possibly? His job and his home would never let him. Nor would anybody else.


    Hagen''s mother died in terrible pain, and he spent all her last days with her¡ªholding her handunable to hold back his tears.


    Mike spent the first year after her death as though he were trying to learn how to live again. He''s gotten used to cooking, and tried to wash his own clothes and wake up on time, with varying success. The mother who had always taken care ofherson was gone. There was no one to take her place, so it was the second time ever Hagen decided something for himself as an adult (the first one being moving in with Jessie).


    He wouldn¡¯tgive up. He wouldn¡¯tlet himself crack under pressure. He would have no specific objectives; he¡¯d go with the flow, but he would definitely stay alive.


    So he eventually managed to cope with it. Mother''s cooking was replaced by Chinese takeaways. Once a week, Hagen would go to the Laundromat, and the alarm clock would wake him up every morning. Life seemed to have gotten back to normalbut he still missed his mother a lot.


    The only imaginable relative Hagen knew was Uncle Pete,Mom''s elder brother. Uncle Pete used to be in the US Armed Forces. He''d been through campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan; the few times he¡¯dvisited Hagen and his mother, he did everything he could to be a male presence and help with his nephew''s upbringing, but without any success.SoUncle Pete decided to skip the particulars and stick to enforce the three rules he considered important for every man: the ability to hold one''s ground, to help one''s mother, and to keep from whining, whatever the circumstances may be.


    He failed in every case.


    Hagen would get hysterical at any experience of physical pain, and preferred to give up or run away at once instead of¡°holding his ground,¡±even though he''d always dreamed of learning to fight like the famous Mighty Mouse¡ªDemetrious Johnson, the UFC flyweight champion. Yes, the very wrestler thathadmanaged to become a champion eleven times with his height¡ªless than five foot three, and weighing under126 pounds.


    Poor puny Hagen often imagined himself as Johnson''s true heir. Crybaby Hagen. Height, five foot two. Weight, just a little over 123 pounds. And a UFC champion nonetheless! Such an unfunny joke.


    Helping hisMom? Oh, that was so boring. So much morefunplaying video games or reading comics. Not that his mother ever demanded anything of the sort from her only child, anyway.


    And as for keeping from whining¡ªHagen tried as hard as he could, but without much success. What could he do if his first reaction to a hurtful comment hadalways been tears? Hagenwas nearly thirty at that pointbut he would still sometimes find himself unable to hold them back. Just to think of that dumb customer with his damnedlaptop ¡ªa certain Mr. Goretsky. Hagen was the only person who¡¯dany idea about computers in the shop selling digital devices where he worked. Each time Mr. Goretsky would have another virus infect his hard drive browsing through illegal adult sites, there''d be just a single person to sort it out. Namely, Baby Mikey. And Mr. Goretsky had gotten his Self-Importance and Asshole skills up to a level sufficient to blame Hagenforthe infection each and every time.


    So, the Friday Mr. Goretsky visited the shop again, he didn''t guard his words in the least. Apart from the fact that he had onion and garlic on his breath, which almost made Hagen throw up, he erupted with expletives. The mildest expressions he used were¡°dumb freak¡±and¡°pimply bastard,¡±although there were plenty more epithets and characteristics.It must be fun to be as badass when you''re six foot tall and your forearms are wider then my legs, thought Hagen, feeling the levee breaking and the tears running down his cheeks. It wasn''t his bestdayall in all, Friday or no Friday.


    Feeling utterly discombobulated,Hagen headed rightforChuck''s Bar. His main objective was to get into a state of complete inebriation; the secondary one was fueled bythe hope of picking up a chickagainst all odds. Anyone at all. Just someone moist enough for him to stick it in. He''d even managed to notice a likely candidate sitting on a bar stool and downing straight whiskey like there wasno tomorrow. Still,he nevergatheredenough courage to approach her,althoughhe wasfullyintending to.And once his ass finally left the chair, it was already too late. The lady in question guffawed at the stupid joke of some smug bastard wearing a suit and tie in the most vulgar manner.


    So Hagen got fueled up with rotgut and headed homeward, wallowing in self-pity. He spent some time playing his favorite MMA fighter game onthePlayStation in his bachelor''s lair imagining himself kicking sevenshadesof shit out of that bastard Goretsky,after which hewatched a horror B-movie on his cable for a while,then justpassedout.


    He woke up almost at midnight to take a piss.


    That was when everything started to happen.


    The distance between the sofa and his bathroom would normally take some five steps¡ªit was a cheap rented apartment, after all¡ªbut Mike still stumbled on his way. He never knew himself to be particularly agile, but crossing a completely level floor to reach the bathroom hadn''t ever been a problem, no matter how drunk.


    However, when he rose from the sofa and headed towardthe can thistime, the world seemed to blink. Hagen felthimselfhanging in the nothingness of the universe for a few seconds, feeling no gravity, smells, sounds, lights, or airentering and leaving his lungs.


    He didn''t even have any awareness of his own existence. He felt enshrouded in utter darkness.


    Once the world around him returned, his body continued withaseries of panic-induced commands given by the brain: his diaphragm spasmed, his arms started to wave, and his legs eventuallyattempted to takeone step after another. As a result, Hagen fell to the floor,bruisinghis chinrather badlyin the processand almost biting his tongue.


    It took him a while to decide to rise, feeling the kind of vertigo anyone who''d ever had more liquor than they could hold would recognize quite well. There were white dots in his visionwhich formedthemselves into strange symbols resemblingtherunes fromThePredator. Hagen went silent, trying to keep himself from throwing up. He lay down on his back and closed his eyes, waiting for the white dots to stop moving so chaotically, but to no avail.


    He tried to blink untiltheywentaway, and then tried to rub them out with his hands, but the shining dots clearly weren''t of a physical nature. They disappeared some ten minutes later.


    Hagen managed to catch his breath. Then he got up gingerly and made a fewslow, deliberate steps, trying toensure his feet wouldn''t fail himon his way tothe business that had woken him up originally.Stolen story; please report.


    Then he went back to his room, got undressed, and fell asleep, leaving his clothes on the floor.


    * * *


    HE WOKEthe next morning feeling parched as hell. It was Saturday, and he didn''t have to go to work.


    He cracked his joints as he stretched out, and headed toward the fridge. He polished off a carton of OJ in a few gulps and started to thinkaboutheading down to thesupermarket for some supplies.


    Hesat down at his kitchen table, half of which was covered in computer parts such as video, RAM, and Ethernet cards. That¡¯s when herealized something was wrong. And it wasn''t the headache from the six pints of beer he¡¯ddrunk last night.


    There was an object looking like a desktop icon in his field of vision, and it wouldn''t go away. He¡¯dnoticed it after waking up, but his initial assumption had been that it was just something in his eye or on his eyelashes¡ªa bit of lint, perhaps.


    Mike blinked, but the bit of lint didn''t go away. Ifanything, it seemed to have gotten larger. He thought he needed to wash his face, so off to the bathroom he went.


    AsMikesplashed some water over his face, hedecided to shave. He didn''t do it often¡ªthere was no reason to waste time on scraping his face with a razor, after all. But why do it today?The very urgesurprised him.


    He rubbed some shaving gel on his hand and started applying it to his face, looking at himself in the mirror.


    That was when it hit him. There were two lines of text hovering over his head with its thinning fair hair. It looked likethe kind of stuff you''d expect to see in some damn computer game.


    Mike ¡°Crybaby¡± Hagen. Age: 29


    Level 1


    Hagenranhis hand through the space above his head, his face covered in foam. The hand passed through the text without feeling any resistance. Could this be a practical joke of some sort? He looked at the mirror carefully, but found no signs of anyone tampering with it.


    What could it possibly be, then? A hallucination?


    Suddenly Mike had a morbid idea that made him back away from the mirror. His legsbuckled under him, causing him to collapse in a heapto the floor.


    Could it be cancer? The kind his mother had?


    And what would happen then? He wasn''t even thirty yet. He hadn''t really managed to get any worthy experience in his life and come to know the joys it could bring. He''d been thinking everything was still ahead of him¡ªthat he would have time enough toget as strong as Mighty Mouse.


    And what about women? He''s never had anyone but Jessie. The thought that his time had run out and that he''d never get to know anyone intimately until the end of what would be a very short life made Hagen cry without making a single sound.


    Then he started to bawl uncontrollably¡ªbut his mother was no longerthereto hug him and comfort him, and it felt like his very life poured out of him as tears went by. A dark depressive state came upon him. Hagen no longer had any wish to do anything anymore, so he just washed away his tears and the froth, rubbed his face with a towel, and went back to bed. He closed his eyes and stayed like that until evening came, unable either to fall asleep or get up.


    Long after sundown, Hagen realized he could stay that way no more. His body felt numb; his musclesached for some exercise, and his brain finally switched from thoughts about imminent death to the basic instincts¡ªnamely, thirst, hunger, and sheer lust for life. His wish to stay alive made him grit his teeth, and he decided to find out what was really going on.


    He got out of bed and stoodup, staring into the darknessof his apartment. Still, no matter which way Hagen looked, some 3D object remained atthe periphery of his vision. He seemed to bewatching a movie in 3D, but he wasn''t wearing any 3D glasses.


    He focused his sight on the object and noticed its reaction. The icon, flat until then, started to rotate like a Christmas treebaublespinning at the touch of a cat''s paw, transformingintoa cube with a human head silhouette at each side.Viewed froma certain angle, itactuallyresembled Hagen himself.


    The youngman reached for the cube. As if acceptinghis invitation, it floated towards his palm and became larger. Hagen touched it with his fingertips and felt some sort of tangible response. The cube blinked andturned intoa window. Even if it was a hallucination, it was really top-drawer.


    The window that appeared featured a topless Hagen in 3D wearing trunks. It was a ridiculous sight. He was thin, all ribs, but the expression on his face was one of pure malice. There was a text bar underneath Hagen. The active tab had two columns. The first one had the following written in it:


    Mike¡°Crybaby¡±Hagen


    Age:29


    Level:1


    Health:4000 pt.


    Battles/victories:0/0


    Weight:123 lbs


    Height:5¡¯2¡±


    Mike read through the text,studyingevery line. As he focused,he saw pop-ups withprompts explaining the meaning ofeach of them. There wasalso someextra info for the first line¡ªhis ethnicity, nationality, as well as place of birth and current residence.


    The secondpromptexplained the process of levelingup. Experience grew in combat, no matter what kind¡ªa street fight or a training match wouldbothcount for something. The only condition was that the opponent could not be a minor. One had to have as many victories as one had on the current level to get to the next one. Defeats did not give any XP points, but nor did they take any away. Victory over a stronger opponent made the progress faster, but there were no details on just how much faster.


    The second line appeared to reflect physical stats.


    Main stats:


    Strength:1


    Agility:2


    Stamina:4


    Hagen browsed the entire list, focusing his attention at each item as they came along.


    The Strength stat equals 10% of the overall average for human strength.


    It affects the damage one deals.


    The Agility stat equals 10% of the overall average for human agility.


    It affects the precision of your attacks and your chances to evade those of your opponent.


    The Stamina stat equals 10% of the overall average for human stamina.


    It affectshealth and itsregeneration, as well asthe fatigue rate during physical activity.


    All of the above made it clear that Hagen was very weak¡ªten times weaker than any average human being, five times less agile, and had two and half times less agility. Buthe¡¯dknown this ever sincehe¡¯d beena snotty kid.Tell me something I don''t know,he thought.


    The most important thing was that in order to get to Level 3, all he needed was a single victory over anyopponent. Every level-up gave Hagen an ability pointas well as a stat pointwhich could be used to up his Strength, Agility, or Stamina.


    Thus, ability levels could be leveled up in other ways but training, and upping Strength did not necessarily require a gym.


    Once he managed to process that, he switched to the second tab.


    It turned out to be inactive, with a silhouette ofanattacking Hagen on it.


    Mike tapped it without thinking and saw a series of icons with different abilities depicted on them. They were: Punch, Uppercut, Low Kick, Medium Kick, High Kick, Clinching, and Grappling. All the icons were gray with a lock displayed above them. The only one with color was Punch. It had thenumber1 displayed in the bottom right corner over a green icon.


    Hagen focusedon it. Apromptbubble popped up over it.


    Punch: Level 1.


    Damage: 100.


    You have to use the ability more often to level it up.


    Below it was a progress bar at 2%.


    Everything had too much detail to be a hallucination caused by an unquiet mind. The periphery of Hagen''s consciousness registered the fact that he would have to see a doctor on Monday for a check. It wouldn''t hurt, at any rate.


    Hagen had a sudden brainwave and assumed what he considered to be a fighter''s stance; then he started throwing punches at the air. His right hand, then his left, then the right, and then the left one again. He tried to imitate shadowboxing, made about a hundred punches, stumbled over a gamepad that layunderhis feet, and got sweaty and exhausted as a result. However, it was worth it: the progress barhadreached the 3% mark.


    Hagen kept punching the air until lateatnight, only making breaks for snacks and visits to the bathroom. His low Stamina stat revealed itself in full¡ªhe would get tired easily. Intheleft cornerof his vision, underneaththe icon with his faceshowing his current level (which was 1), he also saw the HP and Vigorstats.


    Vigor was the very thing he kept running out of. He grew so tired he was barely able to raise his fist. HP points were perfectly real, too¡ªMichael found that out for himself as he punched the wall. His hand felt acute pain. The system message below told him he¡¯dtaken100 damage points, and his HP barhadshrunk.


    Hagen leveled his Punch ability up to 2 by midnight. Flame erupted from his fists. It may have been virtual, butitlooked terrifyingly real. It made his hands warm, but it didn''t burn, so Mike didn''t even get any time to panic. He was sweating all over and looking at his hands with sheer delight. The flames were gradually dying down.


    Then he saw a system message appear right before his eyes.


    Congratulations! You¡¯ve received a new skill level!


    Skill name:Punch


    Hagen opened the stat window to make sure the ability levelhadin fact grown.


    Punch:Level 2


    Damage: 200


    You have to use the ability moreoften to level it up


    Thus, the level-up allowed him to deal more damage.


    That was incredible!


    Mike wasasexcited as any gamer who''d ever leveledup their character in a video game. The rays of the rising sun were alreadypeeking through the gap between his curtains, and there he stood, punching air obdurately, pissed off by the fact that he''d have to throw a hundred punches more to level up again. Two hundred punches amounted to one percent of his ability growth. The first levelhad takenjust a hundred. The third one would take three times as much.


    However, those weren''t the only features of the System, which was the term Hagenhadinvented to describe the new guest in his mind. He¡¯dwokenup famished in the middle of the night. There were no nutritious items in his fridge, so he¡¯dhad to order a takeaway from a pizza joint open 24/7. His starved body was in urgent need of calories, after all. So Mike ordered two Mexicanas at once, and went at them like a cat finding a pot of cream as soon he¡¯dshut the door after the delivery man.


    Once he¡¯dfinished his meal (he¡¯dpolishedoff everything there was, including the bits of topping stuck to the bottom of the box, up to the very last slice of olive), the System gave him another notification,


    Calories consumed: 2,536. Proteins: 7.4oz. Fats: 6 oz. Carbohydrates: 12.6 oz.


    The Hunger debuff thathad been hoveringsomewhere on the upper right of his visionhad nowdisappeared. However, he got a new one: Sleep Deprivation. That lowered his Vigor by 25%.


    By the morning,the Sleep Deprivation debuff reached Level 2, lowering his Vigor by 50%. Mike started to get tired faster, and had totake more breaks to restore himself. By sunrise, when the Punch progress bar reached 67%, Sleep Deprivation suddenly reached Level4, reducing Vigor by 99% and giving Hagen another debuff by the name ofFatigue. This debuff did not lower any stats. However, it stopped the regeneration of Vigor completely. Thus, he had to go to sleep eventually.


    Hagen wasn''t disappointed too much, at any rate. His whole body hurt, his arms felt numb, and his eyes felt full of sand. He fell asleep the instanthis head touched the pillow.

 CHAPTER TWO. GOOD AFTERNOON, MR. GORETSKY!

    ¡°The world is full of suffering, then you die.¡±


    GTA Vice City Stories


    ON MONDAY Hagen went to the clinic to tell the doctor about his inexplicable hallucinations. The doctor hummed and hawed in a bewildered way for a while, and then told him to get an MRI. It didn¡¯t find any pathological symptoms related to Hagen''s brain. Therefore, the doctor''s diagnosis was ¡°stress from overwork.¡± He prescribed him a course of mild sedatives and recommended him to take a break from work.


    His employers didn''t mind ¡ª it was the first vacation Mike had taken in three years, so he suddenlybecame free for three weeks. As Hagen was leaving the shop, he saw Mr. Goretsky looking for his notebook and not finding it. ¡°I really wouldn''t advise you to visit any illegal sites within the next three weeks,¡± he thought with pure Schadenfreude.


    A system message popped up in the air right above Goretsky.


    Gregor ¡°Moose¡± Goretsky. Age: 38


    Level 4


    HP: 22000


    Battles/victories: 9/6


    Weight: 251 lbs


    Height: 6¡¯ 3¡±


    Hell''s bells! was the first thought to cross Mike''s mind. Five times my HP!


    Goretsky''s Stamina equaled 16. However, Hagen didn''t manage to check out any other stats. He tried to open the window with the big man''s profile, but the system kept sending him the same incomprehensible message:


    The current level of your Insight skill is insufficient to access the information you¡¯ve requested.


    He had never come across this skill before but he decided to definitely sort it out later on.


    Mike could already see he didn¡¯t stand a chance against the man. Even given his double damage, he''d have to deal an opponent like this around eighty punches minimum, which was simply a non-option.


    ¡°So there you are, shithead!¡±


    Hagen was so lost in his thoughts he missed the fact that Mr. Goretsky had finally found him. He loomed over Mike, who had hunched his back by sheer force of habit, grinning at him lopsidedly. ¡°Get your finger out and give my laptop back, you dumbass!¡±


    Hagen tried to make his face look as friendly as possible.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Goretsky!¡±


    ¡°If you try my patience for another three minutes, it won''t be as good for you! Get my laptop back at once! This time we''ll examine it carefully to see just how well you fixed it!¡±


    ¡°I''m on vacation, Mr. Goretsky. Please address one of my colleagues with this issue.¡±


    Hagen kept thinking about how much he''d have to level up his Punch skill to knock out a giant like the Moose with a single blow. Math had always been a strong suit of Mike''s, so he instantly made the calculation: he''d have to level up to 160, which would take him some ten years of daily twelve-hourpractice. However, he was basing his calculations on his current level of Strength, which could be leveled up as well...


    ¡°Hey, you little geek! Did your brain freeze? Do I have to punch your lights out to reboot you, slowpoke?¡±


    Hagen came back to his senses only to see Goretsky''s face a few inches from his own. He was getting a full load of spittle on his nose alongside the barrage of expletives.


    Hagen wiped his face automatically. Other sales personnel and a few customers came out as they heard the shouting, but no one made any effort to intervene even though they observed the tableau with some concern. Someone called the manager.


    Mike gathered up what remained of his self-esteem and said, his voice quavering with hurt, ¡°I''m sorry, Mr. Goretsky, but you should stop giving me all that verbal abuse. I am technically not a DigiMart employee at the moment, since I am on vacation. Please try another colleague of mine.¡±


    ¡°Are you that dumb? I don''t give a shit!¡± Goretsky spat out. ¡°You work at the shop, I gave you my laptop. So you''re the one who¡¯s supposed to fix it, and you''re the one responsible!¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, Mr. Goretsky,¡± said Lexie, the senior sales executive. ¡°Allow me to serve you.¡± She took the Moose by the arm. ¡°Just give me your receipt, and I''ll fetch the appliance in question at once.¡±


    The Moose looked at Lexie with appreciation and grinned. He was certainly pleased by the replacement.


    ¡°You''re lucky to have such cute girls work at your store, you slug,¡± were the Moose''s parting words to Hagen.


    Lexa gave Mike a barely noticeable gesture as she turned her head around and led the boorish customer away, allowing him to leave. Mike nodded in response and headed toward the exit, feeling the blood rush to his face and ears.


    ¡°None of this is ever, ever, ever likely to end well,¡± he kept muttering.


    It was bad luck indeed for the peak of his humiliation to have coincided with the arrival of Lexie ¡ªthe only co-worker who''d never treated Hagen like a piece of shit. She appreciated him for his ability to find any defect in any computer in a minimum amount of time, and always managed to find a kind word for him, praising him for his work. She was three years younger than him, after all, and already a senior sales executive. Really pretty, too. Such a pity he had no chance with her.


    And still he forgot all about Lexie once he got outside. Hagen now had a goal, digitized and perfectly understandable.


    His greatest desire ever was to learn to fight now ¡ª a desire even greater than that he''d felt for Jessie after their first date. Actually, it wasn''t even fighting that he wanted. It would be painful, after all. What he''d ever really wanted was to knock out any opponent with a single punch without letting the fight go on for too long. Just like that Irish Traveler Mickey did in Guy Ritchie¡¯s movie. His endurance wasn''t that great, after all. Hagen imagined Goretsky punching him on the nose and shuddered.


    After the night Mike spent leveling up his Punch ability, he only woke up in the late afternoon. He was completely exhausted, for every muscle in his untrained body ached. His mood, however, was unexpectedly good. He tried to level up the ability, but his body reacted with acute pain. Mike didn''t know what to do, so he kept on studying the interface.


    His eyes rolled maniacally when he noticed another couple of icons he¡¯d not seen before. He stared at them and ¡°dragged and dropped¡± them onto the panel. One of them had the legend saying ¡°Program Features.¡± When Hagen opened it, he saw the following.


    Augmented Reality!7.2 Home Edition


    Copyright ? First Martian Company, Ltd. 2101-2118


    All rights reserved


    Registered owner: Michael Bj?rnstad Hagen.


    S/N S2L-7702B-1412010


    One-year single user license


    Account type: Premium


    Activation date: 04/24/2018, 09:00


    Expiration date: 04/24/2019, 08:59


    A Google search revealed nothing about either the First Martian Company or the Augmented Reality! platform. However, it didn''t take Hagen long to figure things out. He''d read too many comics to be surprised by something like this. It was pretty obvious: he¡¯d somehow acquired an augmented reality interface from the future. Just how it had happened didn''t matter at the moment. Mike could easily imagine every Earthling having an interface of this sort in the twenty-second century. Judging by the name of the company that had developed it, every Martian would have them, too.


    The main thing he realized was as follows: time, too, was at a premium. He''d have to make full use of each and every day to make his dream come true.


    He spent about an hour exploring the Settings tab to configure the interface just the way he liked it. There were lots of cool little features, including a built-in alarm clock that would wake you gently during your lightest sleep stage when waking up would be the least stressful, as well as making all sorts of data visible in one''s field of view. The latter included quite a few useful things ¡ª the time, one''s heartbeat rate, the temperature outside, calories used up since awakening, and lots more that one could theoretically look up on one''s smartphone, but the augmented reality interface made it so much easier.


    Mike also brought the progress bars of the main stats into his field of vision ¡ª namely, Strength, Agility, and Stamina. He spent about half an hour shadowboxing, trying to disregard the pain, and noticed that they had grown as well. Not at the same rate as the Punch ability, but it was something nevertheless.


    He had the most success with Stamina. Hagen noticed that it would build up the most rapidly when he trained when his staying power was at his lowest ¡ª when he''d have to gasp for breath, trying to overcome the pain in his chest and the feeling of heaviness in his shoulders.


    There were two more main icons ¡ª Check for Updates and Tech Support, but whenever he''d tap on either, they''d give the following error message:


    Impossible to establish connection with the updates server.


    It appears to be unavailable.


    Please check your Universal Infospace connection settings.


    Universal infospace? For real? A future internet?The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Once Hagen had finished exploring the interface, he got back to his training. He put on a music channel on the TV and went on with kicking seven shades of shit out of his invisible opponent, imagining it to be Goretsky. He kept at it until late night when he reached a state of complete exhaustion. He took a shower and slept through the day; he probably wouldn''t wake even if someone set his bed on fire.


    This was his Sunday. He visited the clinic on Monday, then kept on shadowboxing at home, trying to progress as fast as possible. Tuesday was spent in the exact same manner. Wednesday evening Hagensuddenly had a bright idea and made a discovery.


    He used a pillow from his sofa to form a punch bag of sorts, hanging it on the hook to replace the rather tasteless painting portraying a female gorilla in an evening dress and a hat. The name of the painting was Sunset on the Atlantic Coast, but it was all tacky rectangles in psychedelic colors. Hagen could never see the sunset ¡ª just the gorilla.


    It turned out that the ability leveled up much faster if he punched the pillow instead of the air.


    By the end of the same day, Hagen leveled up his Punch ability to Level 8 and became capable of dealing up to 1600 damage points, since his Power finally leveled up as well. That was when he realized that his best bet would be to train at a boxing gym. There was one just downed the street, owned by an old Mexican.


    * * *


    HAGEN TURNED UP at the Roosevelt Street boxing gym early on Sunday. Mr. Guillermo Ochoa didn''t bat an eyelid when the puny lad arrived at his gym. In fact, Mr. Ochoa stayed as cool as a cucumber even when Hagen declared his intent to train at the gym. However, when this feeble hobbit whom you could pierce with a straw, with his pencil neck, messy fair hair, colorless fair eyebrows and eyelashes, made it clear he wished to train for at least twelve hours every day, it was too much for old Ochoa. He started to laugh out loud.


    The young man didn''t seem perturbed by it. He patiently waited for the boxing gym''s owner to finish laughing, his cerulean blue eyes staring directly at Ochoa without one iota of irritation. He was irritated, though. The old man was seventy years old, and he could read people well enough. The Mexican laughed so hard that snot flew from his large broken nose. But the young man stayed perfectly calm, regardless.


    Once the old man had stopped laughing, Hagen took a wad of crumpled dollar bills out of his back pocket. ¡°Would this be enough for the first month, Mr. Ochoa?¡±


    The old man got serious. He counted the money and nodded. ¡°This will be enough for three months. And if you help me with cleaning the gym every evening, you can train for half a year,¡± Ochoa offered him his hand. ¡°Welcome to my boxing gym, kid... Eh, what''s your name, then?¡±


    ¡°Mikey,¡± said the young man as he shook the Mexican''s hand. ¡°But you can call me Hagen, if you like.¡±


    ¡°So, it''s Little Mikey, then? All right. When would you like to get started? If you think that-¡±


    ¡°Could I start right now?¡± Hagen interrupted him.


    The old man chuckled. ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, right now,¡± the hobbit repeated.


    Ochoa scrutinized Mike from head to toe, gave a whistle, then swept his hand theatrically around the empty gym. ¡°The gym is all yours, young man! The locker room is that way.¡±


    Hagen may have imagined it, but it seemed like there was something respectful in the way the old man addressed him. That was the first time in his life someone''s ever spoken to him that way, and he liked it.


    Five minutes later, having changed, Hagen started throwing punches at the punch bag with enormous enthusiasm. The huge aloha shorts that hung below his knees revealed legs so thin one could circle one''s fingers around them. The oversize tee sleeves reached all the way down to his elbows, and his clumsy punches couldn''t move the bag an inch. Nothing but the sullen look in his fierce blue eyes could convince anyone that puny Little Mickey was really meaning it.


    So, by the end of the day, Ochoa took pity of the lad and started to teach him how to punch for real.


    * * *


    BY THE END of the second week at the gym, Hagen''s physical and mental condition had improved considerably. As it had turned out, his Premium account came with a triple leveling booster to all skills and stats. Mike found out about it in the Help section. The virtual helper was miles ahead of Siri. It had no problems with recognizing voice commands, and responded immediately. This is how Hagen found out that whenever a battle ability reached a level divisible by ten, he would get an extra skill. Punch, for example, would give him a 50% chance of canceling any of his opponent''s blocks at Level 10. By level 30, this would be guaranteed.


    At any rate, Hagen saw it for himself by the end of the first week of training, when his only ability finally reached Level 10.


    Apart from the boxing ring and the boxing bag, Ochoa''s gym turned out to have barbells and dumbbells. That''s what the old man made him use on the second day, teaching him a few exercises that would develop different muscle groups. Aided by an intense workout routine with weights, this trainingmade his Strength grow much faster and gave him an enormous appetite.


    Hagen consumed huge amounts of meat, chicken, and fish; then it dawned on him that he could just buy an enormous jar of powdered protein. He''d been drinking at least three protein shakes every day since, not to mention eating regular food. Training made him hungry all the time, even at night ¡ª he would wake up and make himself a shake which he''d gulp down and fall asleep again.


    In two weeks, he gained a couple of pounds and even managed to grow taller, for whatever reason.


    By the end of his leave, his stats were as follows:


    Mike ¡°Crybaby¡± Hagen. Age: 29


    Level 1


    HP: 9000


    Battles/victories: 0/0


    Weight: 135 lbs


    Height: 5¡¯ 3¡±


    Main stats:


    Strength: 5


    Agility: 4


    Stamina: 9


    Hagen managed to level up all his stats and put on eleven pounds. He became stronger, and the beefed-up Stamina increased his chances to survive, giving him more time to throw a game-changing punch. The only stat that grew very slowly was Agility.


    He didn''t discover any new moves, so he decided to focus on leveling up Punch, the only ability in his arsenal. No matter how his opponent would dodge, Hagen''s higher level would eventually let him throw lightning-fast punches no one could possibly escape.


    Punch: Level 16


    Damage: 8000


    +50% to the probability of ignoring any block


    You have to use the ability more often to level it up


    This amazing ability to do damage was a direct result of his increased Strength. At Level 1, Hagen would only manage to deal 1600 points of damage (a hundred points for every level of the ability). But those 1600 points became multiplied by five, and eight thousand points were already something. He could knock himself out in a punch or two, regardless of his leveled-up Stamina. As for his older self ¡ª the one that didn''t have the interface ¡ª he could swat it like a fly.


    On the last day of his leave, Hagen approached the owner of the gym. ¡°My time off is about to end, Mr. Ochoa. I have to go back to work. As soon as I finish in the evening, I''ll be right here.¡±


    The old man shrugged. ¡°You can come whenever you want, kid.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Ochoa! I''m done for today...¡±


    ¡°Hold on a second, kid,¡± Guillermo interrupted him, pointing to the corner of the gym where a Latino guy with a nondescript face was shadowboxing. ¡°How about a match with Juan? He''s a newbie, too, although he''s been here for over half a year. But he doesn''t do it the way you do. He comes around three times a week, and sometimes skips his training altogether. Everybody else I have here is tough as nails, and I can''t find him a proper partner for the life of me.¡±


    ¡°We can try,¡± said Hagen, shrugging.


    He took a closer look at Juan and saw the following:


    Juan Manuel Guerrero. Age: 26


    Level 3


    HP: 13000


    Battles/victories: 7/5


    Weight: 172 lbs


    Height: 6 foot


    ¡°All right. Wait,¡± Ochoa said and went toward Mike''s sparring-partner-to-be.


    ¡°This guy won''t be easy meat,¡± thought Hagen to himself as he saw Juan Guerrero looking in his direction. Guerrero was strong, with long arms, and half as many HP as Hagen. But one had to start somewhere, after all. He couldn''t just beat up old ladies in the street to level up, could he?


    Once the ongoing bout was over, Ochoa told the sparring partners to leave the boxing ring and invited Guerrero and Hagen to take their place. They bumped their boxing gloves together. Guerrero nodded, and Hagen returned the nod.


    ¡°Ready? Fight!¡± Ochoa gave the command.


    The training fight began.


    Guerrero was circling around Hagen, trying to get on his left side but keeping his distance. Should he move closer? He might get hit. Should he wait for his opponent to attack? In that case, would it be possible to block or dodge the punch?


    Hagen kept on circling and trying to stay face to face with his opponent who kept running around. He waited for his chance. A chance to deal a blow that might be his only opportunity in this fight.


    ¡°Come on!¡± shouted Ochoa, trying to motivate the fighters. ¡°Fight! Get on with it!¡±


    Hagen''s opponent started to attack. He moved his body around a lot to confuse the other fighter. But then came the moment when Hagen realized he had to strike. He intuitively threw a punch at the face of the attacker without even realizing what he was doing, trying to block Guerrero''s punch with his left hand at the same time. He nearly felt the other man''s boxing glove touch his, but then the contact was lost.


    You¡¯ve dealt damage: 8,000 (Punch)


    Your opponent¡¯s block has been overridden


    Later, Mike would see the next scene in his dreams in slo-mo for a couple of nights in a row. There''s him throwing the punch; there''s the fist that goes right through the poorly-executed counter-punch blockand then proceeds to hit Guerrero right on the jawbone. His opponent''s head comes upwards first, inertia making a trail of sweat drops in the air, and then the other man''s feet leaves the floor as well.


    That was how Hagen found out that if his strike dealt more damage than 50% of his opponent''s HP, a knockout was guaranteed. That''s exactly what happened to Guerrero. He was knocked out all right.


    Hagen himself felt a rush of unbelievable pleasure. This was better than any orgasm. That was how the System reacted to his first level-up.


    Hagen was standing inside a column of light invisible to anyone but himself. He didn''t hear whatOchoa was saying. However, he could clearly see the following system message:


    Congratulations! You¡¯ve defeated your opponent in a fair fight!


    Defeating an opponent whose level is higher than yours doubles the XP received!


    You¡¯ve received +2 to your level!


    Current level: 3


    New system points of main characteristics available: 2


    New system points of combat skills available: 2


    As he went to bed that night, Hagen consulted with the virtual assistant and distributed the system points between Strength and Agility. First he wanted to dump both into Strength, but it turned out that leveling up a stat by more than one point at once would be lethally dangerous. The system gave an absolutely clear warning about that.


    Warning! We¡¯ve detected an abnormal increase of your Strength characteristic: +1 pt.


    Your body will be restructured in keeping with the new reading (6) to comply with your new metabolism and chronotropy values.


    Changes required: accelerated growth of muscle tissue, sinews and ligaments.


    There was also a lot of stuff about raising the levels of intramuscular phosphocreatine, glycogen, the internal mechanisms, intramuscular coordination, and so on. However, there was a very clear warning in bold at the very bottom:


    Warning!


    The restructuring of your body functions requires a considerable amount of nutrients. In order to avoid danger to your life, you¡¯re strongly encouraged to consume a minimum of 10 oz. animal protein, 3 lbs. of carbohydrates and 3 oz. of animal fats. A shortage of nutrients may result in body function failure.


    Warning!


    Artificial characteristic boosting of more that 1 pt. at a time is strictly forbidden! Severe danger of fatality!


    A similar system message and warning followed when he added an extra point to Agility:


    Warning! We¡¯ve detected an abnormal increase of your Agility characteristic: +1 pt.


    Your body will be restructured in keeping with the new reading (5) to comply with your new motoric and coordination values.


    Changes required: the restructuring of your central nervous system and the increase in elasticity of your muscle tissue, sinews, ligaments and joints.


    The warning of a possible lethal outcome followed this, too ¡ª as well as advice to eat as much protein, fat, and carbohydrates as possible, accompanied by proper hydration.


    So Hagen consumed an enormous amount of fried chicken and a few pizzas over the next two hours, washing them down with plenty of soda and water.


    As he was eating, he suddenly realized he was no longer frightened of fighting Mr. Goretsky. As his Strength stat had grown, he could deal 9,600 points of damage which was more than enough to knock out the Moose, the required amount being 50% of the latter''s HP.


    Then he fell asleep, smiling all the way to the Land of Nod. Tomorrow would be the next day ¡ª the first day of the rest of his life.


    He would keep on training and leveling up, and eventually take part in an MMA competition, and then... Who knows? Perhaps, one day he might hold his champion''s belt proudly above his head.


    But that would take time. And as for tomorrow...


    Hagen smiled again. Tomorrow he¡¯d finally ask Lexie to hang out with him.