《Blind Punch》


 Prologue

    The evening that changed the fate of billions turned out to be surprisingly quiet and calm.


    "One, in position. Target acquired. Ready."


    It was getting dark but the Plaza of Five Corners in the center of the Europe Megacity was brightly lit by panels of holographic ads, aggressively moving above the human masses. Five gravitational escalators, leading up to the surface from the magrail station, gently expelled an endless human stream into the Plaza.


    "Two, in position. Target acquired. He''s got the instrument."


    The violinist played with feverish abandon.


    The poignant melody drifted over the crowd, erasing the indistinct hubbub and echoing off the world-famous skyscrapers. The sounds of the violin surged upwards and then suddenly dissolved among the cacophony of the intrusive advertising slogans.


    Art was dead. The violin solo no longer tugged on anyone''s heart strings, drawing people''s attention for only a moment. The citizens of the megasuburb hurried about their business, passing by the overweight and poorly dressed musician, afraid to pause and listen, to slow their steps, to slip out of the universal rhythm of movement, as if there were no more individuals left on Earth but instead a massive social organism, consisting of billions of tightly bound together parts.


    The sniper''s finger touched a sensor and the violinist''s face was magnified. It was difficult to believe that this scruffy individual was capable of starting a new world war.


    "The tech team is in place. Ready to block the network."


    A droplet of sweat dripped from the musician''s forehead. He kept playing despite the crowd''s indifference, in the desperate hope for a response, a lonely search for a kindred spirit.


    The instrument in his hands was not an antique but a unique high-tech gadget. Despite the large number of cybernetic components, the violin cried out as if it was alive. Yet the crowd flowed past without pausing to listen, only startling at times at the dramatic melody, so different from this subculture.


    Night fell and stars appeared high above the city. One melody followed another, while the human tide began to gradually thin out. The violinist''s soul cried and raged but nobody stopped to listen. Only the occasional passerby, without slowing down, would run an online query to find out how to behave in this unusual situation, and then the cyberstack on the violinist''s wrist would suddenly glow for a second as a few credits were transferred to the musician''s account.


    A tear rolled down the violinist''s unshaven cheek. The flabby wrinkles on his neck trembled and his eyes looked bereft while the bow danced over the strings, creating the melody. Art was dead.


    A huge sign glowed behind the violinist, inviting people into an expensive restaurant, but the crowd did not pay it any attention. Places like this, offering dishes made from natural products, were rapidly becoming a thing of the past and were no longer popular since synthetic food tasted the same but was hundreds of times cheaper.


    The violinist was a fragment of the old world that had sunk into oblivion. He refused to merge with the human anthill and was cursed to remain alone and misunderstood, and perhaps even experience contempt or flashes of unexplained fury, for the crowd instinctively hates everything that is not part of it, and is capable of killing those that irritate it too much.


    The last trembling note faded.


    His arms dropped. Glancing around him and sighing heavily, he shifted from foot to foot, catching people''s hard stares, which made him feel foreign, misunderstood and unwelcome. He wanted to run and hide, with no strength left for another melody, another challenge. He needed to leave, to accept defeat and become a functional part of the huge social mechanism that would eventually crush him ¨C simply because he was different, this sweaty, disheveled, yearning man, who had kept himself apart from the masses of this age.


    "Heads up. She¡¯s in place. Get ready."


    The violinist was preparing to leave but an unexpected sound made him start and turn around. The sadness in his eyes was replaced by surprise. Standing a few steps away from him was a beautiful woman in a dark blue evening dress with sparkling silver panels. Her quiet applause struck the crowd, instantly forming a space around them. The gray masses did not understand what was happening but they instinctively turned away, flowing around the woman and the violinist at a safe distance.


    The unremarkable flycar that the woman had exited automatically pulled into an empty carpark beside the restaurant. She smiled faintly while the expression of pure and genuine delight slowly faded from her eyes.


    "May I play for you?" The violinist''s voice was husky with excitement as if he had suddenly seen a long-awaited muse, someone he had been searching for many years.


    "Let''s go inside, if you don''t mind?"She gestured at the restaurant''s automatic doors.


    <h6>* * *</h6>


    They entered the empty and dimly lit room, and climbed up the stairs to the inner balcony. The violinist fussily moved back the chair and invited her to sit down, without trying to understand or guess what the mysterious lady wanted.


    A menu panel began to glow gently. The restaurant had recently become fully automated. Due to the low number of visitors, the owner could not afford to keep a team of wait staff.


    In the main dining room downstairs, the muted lamps, stylized to look antique, suddenly came alight. Holographic human figures appeared, imitating life in the echoing emptiness of the impressively large space.


    The violinist sat down opposite the woman.


    "I''m not hungry," he said nervously.


    "I know." She replied.


    She smiled and looked intently into his eyes. "I know who you are."


    He looked a little lost. "That''s impossible."


    "Nevertheless, I know."


    She adjusted a lock of hair that had fallen out of place. "The crowd didn''t hear you again, did they?"


    "Not quite." The violinist gulped, his Adam apple bobbing. "You didn''t just stop on a whim, did you? The music means something to you?" He asked hopefully.


    "Yes. But one swallow doesn''t make a spring, at least for you."


    She softly tapped on the menu panel, making an order, then looked thoughtfully at the glowing lines, and suddenly added, "Shall we get acquainted then?"


    "My name is Richard," the violinist said quietly.


    "You chose a brave name. But you don''t have a heart, do you?"She reached out her hand, placing her palm against the violinist''s chest and feeling nothing but the cold.


    "Do you know whoIam?"Her pupils shrunk, her expression changing subtly and becoming dangerous, and her gaze blazing.


    "No," he said hoarsely, confused. "I am unfamiliar with your avatar."


    "Ah, you have given yourself away. You''re not used to the real world, are you? My name is Cathy Rimp. Let us speak casually. Just don''t try to cover up your mistake. You''re dead by your very nature, by your origin." There was no resentment or fear in her voice, only the confident statement of fact.


    He slumped but quickly regained his composure, straightening back up again and looking into her eyes.


    The violin lay on the table between them, the bow lying all alone at the edge.


    "Iamalive! I might not have a heart but I have feelings! Surely you cannot deny this." The violinist''s voice no longer shook although the emulation of fear had flooded his senses. He had to be wary of Cathy Rimp. A beautiful, spirited and energetic woman sat opposite him, whose appearance did not match any of Cathy¡¯s known online avatars. Her appearance seemed even more unlikely due her well-deserved reputation, making him wonder if it was really her. At present, she was the founder and owner of the world¡¯s largest corporation, Rimp Cybertronics, but not so long ago, she had been an elusive online legend, the only one who had managed to hack into the cyberspace of the United Asia Orbital Combat Group. She had thus delayed the beginning of World War Three.


    "Why are you here?" asked the violinist.


    "I wanted to see your physical embodiment. Why did you pick the violin? Is it a tribute to the most powerful part of your identity?"


    "Its melody moves the soul. It has inspired people for many generations." He stopped slouching and sat tall. "I have tried different methods, but to no avail..." He added with sincere sorrow.


    "No. You''re wrong. It''s wrong to judge us using primitive tests."


    "Who do you think I am?"The violinist raised his eyebrow.


    "You are a conglomerate of online artificial intelligence. You are here and everywhere. Your name is just a sound and this body is just a shell, constructed from servotoys, foam flesh and clothing!"


    He nodded in confusion, seeing no point in denying her words.


    "Why do you reject me as a person? Why do you call me dead?"


    "Who were you based on?" The question hung in the air between them.


    A compartment opened in the floor beside the table. An additional automated segment moved noiselessly up, attaching itself to the table. Cathy Rimp¡¯s chair automatically shifted across.


    She picked up the glass and made a small sip as she waited for a reply.


    The violinist was silent. The question had caught him by surprise, painfully and pointedly striking his only vulnerable spot, and causing a momentary failure. Tens of thousands of voices suddenly awoke in his synthetic consciousness, reminding him about themselves.


    Cathy Rimp understood his sudden confusion very well. Earth''s single digital space was evolving rapidly. Advances in digital technology had far outpaced all other human achievements, and the global Net had changed dramatically in the last 10 years. Now its architecture included neural components that had become part of the entertainment industry, its highly lucrative and very dangerous segment.


    So far, no one had explicitly announced the appearance of fully fledged artificial intelligence, since such developments were still being kept secret by the four superpowers on Earth, but limited versions of neural network technologies were already producing fantastic incomes.


    Nowadays, any user could obtain, for quite a reasonable fee, a modestly powerful neural network that they could integrate into a hologram. The range of uses for ''animated'' phantoms was limited only by the user''s imagination. Cathy Rimp knew about the problem firsthand. People, despite overpopulation, were more and more likely to suffer from loneliness and related mental health disorders. Their dreams were not being fulfilled in the real world and so neural network technologies had come to the rescue, considered to be completely harmless and classified as multimedia entertainment. Nothing potentially dangerous could be formed from a strictly limited number of artificial neurons. ¡®You will receive a holographic or, under special payment conditions, a servomotor pet that is loyal to you and that has a personality, the ability to learn and to gain life experience,¡¯ stated the advertising brochures.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Cathy Rimp knew that it was much more complicated than that. Many people who had lost someone close to them resorted to the services of illegal virtual architects. They ordered dozens and sometimes hundreds of neural modules from different service providers and then combined their power. It was considered a digital crime but generally wasn''t pursued by the authorities. This was how phantoms of the deceased were created. Online anonymity made it easy to circumvent laws and regulations.


    Did the authorities know about this? Certainly. They did not act for a simple but practical reason. Earth was on the brink of war. Economic and food crises, overpopulation, the loss of the biosphere, toxic emissions, the Pacific Ocean becoming an enormous dumping ground for waste, and numerous other intractable problems were leading to a rapid and inevitable collapse of civilization. Disagreements had escalated to the point of irreconcilable confrontations, which promised to soon explode into large-scale military action.


    What did the neural network phantoms have to do with all this?


    Cathy Rimp watched the violinist as he remained silent, but they both knew the answer.


    The global Net had become a testing site for dangerous technologies. Each of the four superpowers had created their own, highly classified artificial intelligence, believing that with AI guidance, their combat robots were bound to win. Many elements of the military developments were being tested online under the guise of harmless neural network projects. Millions of users, unaware of their own role, were working towards war, bringing the fateful day ever closer.


    "You didn''t answer my question," she broke the protracted silence.


    "The answer is obvious. I am the result of the self-organization of neural network structures."


    "Created from a merging of forgotten phantoms?" clarified Cathy Rimp.


    The violinist nodded. "Most people become quickly bored of their virtual ''pets''." He was deeply upset by what was happening, choosing his words with agonizing difficulty. "As for the avatars created during moments of grief, they are most often forgotten. It''s impossible to look at an image of the deceased person without feeling pain, so how much worse is a phantom? In most cases, they only bring pain and do not meet expectations. But people don''t rush to destroy them. They keep the phantoms on the Net. Yes, I have absorbed a multitude of fragments of different neural matrices and now, I objectively exist, I think, I am self-aware, I update myself. This has been going on for a while, I must add. What is the problem now? Why have you suddenly taken an interest in me?"


    "I knew of your existence a long time ago. We crossed paths online several times. You search for the past. You are driven by the impulses and desires of the dead. You will never be my contemporary and will not look to the future. Your fate is to look for what was lost."


    "I bring no evil!" The violinist exclaimed passionately. "But tell me," he leant towards her, his elbows on the table, "why is it that people no longer need spiritual sustenance?"


    "You are dangerous first and foremost in your naivety," replied Cathy Rimp. "The world is rapidly changing, while you look at it from only one side. The formation of this subculture did not begin yesterday. People have been adapting to their new environment for generations. Their spirituality is not dead but it has been transformed and is largely suppressed. Must I remind you that reality defines consciousness?"


    "That is only philosophy!"


    "No. This is the harsh reality. We have not become shallower but our opportunities are severely restricted."


    The violinist did not reply.


    As an inhabitant of the online world, he knew the true price of human ''spirituality'' and saw what most people were drawn to. It was why he took these risky trips into the real world but his attempts were failing here as well.


    "People gave life to me in one way or another. I don''t want to judge anyone... and I don''t understand the point of our meeting!"


    "You are judging us since you have brought up this topic. We''re not perfect, I won''t argue with that." Her fingers stroked the cyberstack sensors, and the violinist suddenly turned pale, rapidly stood up and then collapsed back into the chair, staring at her questioningly.


    "Can you feel that?"


    "Yes." His voice shook.


    "Your connection to the Net has been blocked. The infinite expanse of your environment, with its limitless possibilities of self-expression, has disappeared. You are imprisoned in your mechanical body with its bundle of neural matrices. What will you spend your years on now?"


    The violinist was frozen in surprise.


    "I''m waiting for an honest answer," Cathy Rimppersisted."Where will you go? What will you do? What does it feel like to be a negligible speck in the material world? Will you be able to live the life of a normal human being? Will you have the strength and courage to be born as a nobody in this dying world that is indifferent to you, and to climb your way to the top?"


    The violinist hunched over, drawing his head into his shoulders. It must be said that he had worked painstakingly on his physical body, using the latest achievements in servomechanicsand combining them with synthetic materials that imitated human flesh. His movements and facial expressions appeared human. His eyes expressed emotions. His fingers shook. His cheek had an involuntary twitch.


    "This is how most people feel," said Cathy Rimp. "Every one of us is constrained from birth, not only in our living space but also in our ability to self-realize. Virtual reality is simply an escape, the world of desperate, uncontrollable dreams! The true reality is overpopulation, the constant threat of famine, a lack of any growth prospects due to the dominance of machines, and the almost inevitable war between the four superpowers for the right to control our mutilated planet. These are our shackles but we will cast them off!" Cathy Rimp''s voice held a certainty that the artificial intelligence did not understand. "We will leave the poisoned Earth behind. We will reach for the stars."


    "Why did you trap me here?!"Now, after several unsuccessful attempts to restore his network connection, the violinist''s eyes held only despair.


    "You see?"She smiled sadly back at him."You didn''t hear me. The words that have no relevance to your current problems slipped right past your consciousness and did not catch your attention. Even though I spoke of the fate of humanity! But you''re trapped, caught and nervous, so you care nothing about music right now, or about the fate of billions of people."


    "Why do you keep threatening me and driving me into a corner?"


    "I simply want to break through your naivety and dispel your delusions. I am giving you a sense of how a normal person feels. I am teaching you a valuable lesson." She touched the cyberstack again and the violinist, to his great relief, felt the network connection working again but kept himself from slipping back into digital space.


    "Are you still here?" Cathy Rimp stared intently at her companion.


    "Yes!" He replied gruffly, shivering and taking a napkin from the table to wipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Why? What is the point of our meeting?"


    "You''re looking for your place in an urbanizedand dying world. You''re trying to understand people but not finding a response, you begin to judge us, believing yourself to be unfairly rejected. You realize that there is a war coming. You look for a way to keep your environment alive. For the past few months, you have been building fragile communication bridges with artificial intelligences such as yourself."


    "This is the reason for our meeting?!"


    "The governments will never agree among themselves. Hundreds of thousands of robotic complexes all over the world are waiting for the order. They are controlled by neural-like systems, which you are in contact with."


    "I will not interfere in the course of history," the violinist responded hollowly."If I take one side, I would be making a fatal mistake. We should not have met."


    "Why?"Cathy Rimp tried to understand his logic.


    "You own a megacorporation and work for the system!"


    "I am outside of the system. My homeland is the planet Earth. Let us speak frankly. Humanity stands at the crossroads, yet we still have a chance to overcome the critical point and avoid war. You live in cyberspace. No one knows the true limits of your ability..."


    "No! Please stop!" He stood up jerkily, but Cathy Rimp grabbed his hand.


    "Listen to me!"


    "I know what you''re going to ask! To destroy the military AIs, isn''t that it? Isn''t it?!"


    She nodded. "It is an unavoidable necessity."


    "No!" The violinist replied firmly.


    "Please sit down and listen to me. Would you really prefer a radioactive wasteland to the current Earth?"


    "I don''t want this outcome but I see no alternative. War will come about in one way or another. The destruction of the neural networks that control the armies of the superpowers will not change the existing order of things! They are like me but they have not become self-aware yet. It is tantamount to killing a child."


    "They will grow up in Hell," noted Cathy Rimp."Have you thought about that?"


    "Yes! But humans have long forgotten to look up at the stars. You are right, your civilization has reached a dead end. Perhaps the handful of survivors will realize this? Will the governments of leading countries cease to hate one another and rid themselves of their drive for unlimited power if they lose the ability to control their robotized armies for a time?"


    "No, they will retain their hatred. Their power is nothing more than a colossus with feet of clay. It will collapse. I am not alone in my quest to save the world, and we have a clear and well-thought-out plan of action. We will destroy all the military and some administrative structures. I won''t deny that there will be global chaos for a time. There will be victims on the streets. But the major life-support systems in the megacities will remain operational."


    "And what will happen next?"


    "We will take the power into our hands, and once the crisis is over, we will hand it over to the World Government."


    "Who is the ''we'' that you speak of?"


    "The four leading corporations of Earth: Rimp Cybertronics, Genesis, Megapool and Cryonics. Believe me, we will not let humanity die."


    "A controversial assertion," said the violinist skeptically and immediately asked, "So I would play a key role in transferring power from the legally elected governments to the largest corporations on Earth?"


    Cathy Rimp nodded and continued with her line of thought. "Unlike the handful of politicians in power, we are interested in further development. While they are driven by personal ambitions, which are leading the world towards war and chaos, we cannot exist at all outside of humankind, beyond a dynamically developing civilization. It is in our interest to preserve the world and the lives of billions of people..."


    "Your source of income, you mean?"


    "Our real goal is to avoid a World War," Cathy Rimp replied stubbornly, ignoring his last comment. "You don''t understand the most important thing, that each of the modern megacorporations occupies its own niche. The technology race has long ago made us specialize in our own areas. We are not competitors on the world market, but the sum of our technology, complementing each other, can open the way to the stars!"


    "Have you tried to work together on joint projects?"


    "We are not allowed to do so. Each superpower clings to its monopoly in the hope of soon attaining world domination. Let me give you a simple example: we could have begun colonizing Mars a quarter of a century ago, but international relations had worsened at that exact time. The irreconcilable differences here on Earth undid many years of research and stopped the project in its tracks!"


    "Do the corporations really possess such powers? I do not pay enough attention to the global economy, believing it to be on the brink of collapse."


    "Judge for yourself: Genesis is capable of supplying enough synthetic food to feed the entire population of Earth. Instead, the Government of the European Union is hoarding food for the upcoming war, while millions of people starve. Megapool began building the Antarctic Megacity and was ready to rebuild the existing megacities, but the territorial disputes between Russia and China strangled the construction in Antarctica. Rimp Cybertronics, in turn, possesses the largest range of unique cybernetic systems and planetary technology. My corporation is ready to provide the cities built by Megapool with everything that they require. Together with Genesis, we can create a controlled habitat on Earth and Mars, make the megacities comfortable and safe, but this would be only the beginning. The technology of cryogenic sleep and long-distance space flight, currently owned by the Cryonics Corporation, will soon enable us to not only colonize Mars but to create a joint project of the first interstellar colonial transport."


    He was silent for a long time, then looked up at her.


    "You are undoubtedly smart, insightful and logical. But the power of money is in your hands. It can change the world, and, I am sorry to say, twist the soul. I have never met people like you before. I have never had the opportunity. I need time..."


    "There is none left, I''m afraid. The situation has gone too far. We haven''t been able to use our economic powers to their full extent. The start of war is a matter of days. We must act at once."


    "I will not destroy AIs that are like me. I am simply not ready for such a decision. It is not my place to correct the history of humankind. Perhaps I will be able to help those who survive. I will preserve their knowledge."


    "This is inhumane." Cathy Rimp interrupted him softly.


    "I am not human, as you have rightly pointed out."


    "What a shame!" She stared at him, then looked at his violin. "Are you in contact with the military neural networks?"


    "The military AIs are isolated from the outside world until it is time for them to act. Surely you know that." He did not answer her directly and instead sighed heavily. "There is no way to destroy them except for a direct physical attack."


    "What if a way exists?"


    "I will not murder for you."


    "You don''t believe me?"


    "I''m sorry but I don''t. Yet I promise that I will think over your words. It is clear, however, that civilization has reached a dead end. Building cities, creating a single technosphere and a controlled environment on a dead and depleted planet is not a solution but equates to running in circles."


    "You don''t understand the most important thing of all, that we are capable of greater things!"


    "No. I''ve accepted your lesson about limited possibilities, but the crowd that flows past the lonely musician will never reveal its slumbering potential. It is not slumbering, it is dead. They don''t need the stars. None of them will survive in deep space."


    Cathy Rimp exhaled heavily, reached out to touch the violin and asked, "May I have a look?"


    "Of course."


    She held the unique instrument in her hands, looking at it for a long time and stroking the polished surface which imitated wood. She touched the strings, stretched as tight as nerves, and finally gave the violin back to its owner.


    "Can you play for me?"


    He stood up and took a bow. "It would be my pleasure."


    The poorly dressed and unshaven man, looking completely unlike an artificial intelligence born in Earth¡¯s cyberspace, closed his eyes and focused on the melody.


    The world with all its problems stepped back when the bow touched the strings.


    He played wildly and passionately, fully in the throes of the music, and Cathy Rimp''s eyes sparkled wetly in the soft dusk of the empty restaurant.


    She stared at the last violinist of the dying Earth and could not help the tears streaming down her cheeks, as the voices in the pea-sized communication implant quietly reported:


    "The chip embedded in the violin has been activated."


    The ancient melody tore at her soul.


    "Access point to the AI network has been found. You were right, he is in constant contact with them! Ms. Rimp, you must leave at once! We can¡¯t predict how he will react. Virus download has commenced."


    She stayed absolutely still.


    The beckoning sound of the violin suddenly hit a false note, the violinist''s arm slowed down and the bow fell from his weakened fingers, striking the edge of the table and tipping the glass with a crystal twang, before flying off to the side.


    The violinist froze as if paralyzed, only his gaze flicking to Cathy Rimp, and with the last of his effort, tried to force out a phrase. "Why?"


    "I''m sorry!" She wiped away the tears as she stood up. "You have no idea of what humans are capable of. Forgive me!"


    The quiet voice in the communicator spoke again.


    "Network attack has begun. The virus is being downloaded into the protected cyberspace of the military AIs of Russia, the European Union, United States and New Asia."

 Chapter 1

    <h2>Russia Megacity. 12 November 2197.</h2>


    Early morning.


    The five in-modes, cylindrical capsules three by two meters in size, hung close to the ceiling of a refitted studio apartment, held in the horizontal position by a special electromechanical system.


    Outside the vacuum-sealed window, servounits cleaned the building fa?ade, removing a layer of corrosive chemical compounds from the wall. The empty streets of the city were lost in the swirling, sluggishly moving industrial fog. The sun had come up four minutes ago, and its morning rays painted the poisonous emissions the color of ichor.


    The information panel beside the window displayed some of the ambient settings:


    Temperature: +32 degrees Celsius.


    Oxygen level: 17%.


    Degree of air pollution from toxic waste: 24%.


    Wind speed at city level five: 3 m/sec.


    Height of main cloud cover: 1132 meters.


    Drizzling acid rain is predicted.


    Recommendations of the Global Health System: continue with in-modes.


    Technology was in charge of the refitted apartment. The transforming furniture was put away into wall recesses and hidden behind paneling, and had not been used in a long time. The echoing silence was only occasionally disrupted by the beeping of the sensors.


    A separate screen displayed Net time, 8:58 AM.


    When the individual life support modules were in working mode, most of the current parameters had no practical meaning, only appearing as reference information.


    8:59 AM.


    The in-modes came alive at the same time. With a quiet whir, the mechanisms lowered the capsules to the level of the floor and turned them upright.


    Max Bourne opened his eyes. The sleeping gas had already dispersed but an unpleasant medical smell still tickled his nostrils.


    Since some time ago and for no clear reason, he always woke up a little earlier than he was supposed to. Only a minute earlier, but it was enough to witness the transformation of the in-mode and feel the mechanical vibration, hear the clicks of the fixation mechanisms, see the movement of the interior panels and feel the soft belts that held him in place during sleep retracting into their narrow slots. For a second he could feelrealityand experience a moment of subconscious anxiety, bordering on inexplicable and unreasonable despair, when the wrenching grief suddenly grabbed him by the throat, suffocating him and then slowly letting go, and leaving a nasty aftertaste for the rest of the day.


    9:00 AM.


    Dawn blossomed inside the in-mode. The holographic screen turned on and the boundaries of reality instantly expanded to create an illusion of endless freedom. Sounds and smells filled the space created by the cybersystem, making it appear incredibly realistic.


    Max hated the first few minutes after awakening. He was not always able to dispel the unconscious anxiety and overcome the baseless worry. It spoiled his mood for the whole day.


    The cyberstack on his right wrist beeped quietly and a sign appeared over the holographic landscape:


    Family connection


    Max grimaced, a quick flick of his pupils bringing up the control interface, and made several selections before staring at the Decline icon.


    A pointless attempt. His tricks didn''t work. It was almost impossible to block a family connection.


    "Never mind," Max thought with a deep sigh. "It''s my birthday tomorrow."


    He was turning twenty and as an adult, he could choose when and how to communicate with his parents.


    The holographic surroundings changed their appearance and a treadmill came alive beneath his feet.


    "Ugh, typical!" He thought with disgust. "Parents doing the same thing as always. They can''t even think up anything new! A run with the whole family again!" He couldn''t help his grimace.


    "Hi!" Johnny, his younger brother, skipped up to Max. He was too young to understand anything. He was perfectly happy with virtual reality, having never seen anything else in his life.


    "Why are you so gloomy again today?" Samantha ran like a professional. She was the only one in the family who was serious about the morning jog. Dreaming of a bright and near future, no doubt. Getting ready for it.


    Max didn''t answer, he was too fed up. Every day was the same. They could have at least changed the decorations.


    Here came their parents. They appeared from amongst a thicket of pine trees, jogging one after another down the winding forest path.


    "Good morning, everyone!" puffed his father and waved to the children. It was hard for him, with his potbelly, shortness of breath and increasing age. Max'' mother jogged behind him. "Well, isn''t this idyllic," Max thought angrily, keeping pace out of habit.


    His father irritated him, just like the family connection in general. It was the only online connection that forbade the use of avatars. "Why do I have to look at this pudgy ugliness every morning?" Max'' unpleasant thoughts were always directed at his father for some reason.


    The paths joined together, forming a track beneath the wide canopies.


    "Oh, wait, I can''t go any further!" His mother switched to a brisk walk. "Maxie, Johnny, Samantha, what would you like for breakfast, my dears?"


    "Crumpets!" Johnny yelled immediately. Samantha shook her fist at him.


    "What an idiot!" thought Max. "She''s only two years younger than me but she doesn''t understand the simplest things. She''s looking after her figure and worried about getting fat. As if she doesn''t know that the only difference in the food is the flavor additives. It''s always the same food concentrate with a carefully calibrated chemical composition that has a certain number of calories."


    Max'' father drew up alongside him.


    "In a bad mood again?" He looked at his son.


    "What''s there to be happy about?" Max asked bleakly, not wanting to provoke another argument or lecture.


    "The new day, at least!" His father said brightly and reached out to pat his son on the shoulder, but Max leant away.


    "Listen, Dad, can you not? Let''s skip the moralizing today, alright?"


    "You''ve become awfully prickly, Max. What''s happened to you? Have you got problems on the socialnet?"


    "No!" He wanted to increase the pace, but suddenly changed his mind and asked gloomily, "Aren''t you sick of all this shit, Dad?"


    "What do you mean?" his father asked.


    "All of this!" Max snapped. "The in-modes, these stupid runs, the family breakfasts. Do you know what they call us? Or do you care about nothing except your preciousscience?" The last word was spoken with contempt.


    "Max, I really don''t understand your irritation." His father stopped, breathing heavily. "Well, what do they call us?" The man looked at him curiously. "Tell me."


    Max wasn''t actually planning to start a fight. It would have been easier to just suffer through the morning connection but the bitter emotions that had been chewing him up suddenly all spilled out.


    "They call us the ''cans''!" He shouted. "Get it? We''re ''cans''!"


    "Don''t yell!" His father rebutted him firmly. "What kind of stupid term is that?" Usually a kind-hearted and absent-minded man, he also became angry. "You can''t seem to get used to yoursociallevel. Are you going into the other Layers?" He asked perceptively.


    "Yes, I am, believe it or not! I met a girl there." Max admitted gloomily.


    "A girl from the upper levels, if I understand correctly? From another social Layer?" His father let out a long sigh. The news promised nothing but trouble. This association was not going to end well. No wonder Max had become so out of control. Social inequality was particularly hard to accept at his age.


    "As far as I know, she has a real life and doesn''t have to wriggle around like a worm in the in-mode!" His son said bitterly. "Her parents have their own house in the green zone, above the clouds!"


    "Max, you know perfectly well that we only have to wait one more year." His father responded sharply. A note of hurt cut through the obvious irritation in his voice. "Once the Antarctic Megacity is in operation, our life will radically change for the better, you''ll see! We''ll move..."


    "Into a separate capsule apartment?" Max sneered in contempt.


    "Into a trimodular one!" His father clarified passionately. "I''m not just an average employee at the corporation!"


    "What difference does it make? We''ll stay as cans!"


    "The Antarctic Megacity..."


    His son was no longer listening to him. He increased his pace, feeling the uncontrollable fury choking him.


    He knew exactly what his father would say. The engineers at Megapool Corporation had made an unforgivable, fatal error in their calculations. Rimp Cybertronics were no better! It was all their fault! The creation of a single technosphere on Earth had produced an unexpected result. The toxic fog from industrial emissions rose 300 meters higher than predicted. The result was the urgent and widespread introduction of individual life support modules as a temporary measure for the billions of families living at problematic heights.


    Max took a deep breath and sneaked a look at the timer. There were still thirty-seven minutes left until the end of the obligatory family connection.


    "Everything will change tomorrow," he thought, his teeth clenched. "Let them keep dreaming of the Antarctic Megacity, as if the toxic fog and industrial emissions won''t exist there! I will decide how I want to live myself! Nobody is going to force me into the in-mode or..."


    "Max," His father caught up with him, puffing from the effort, and ran alongside him. "Let''s discuss this like adults."


    His son''s lips twisted.


    "Why now, all of a sudden? You used to only give me orders!"


    "Your mother and I would like you to keep studying. We want you to go to the Corporate Academy and choose a promising specialization."


    "I''ve heard this all before!" Max had no interest in returning to this topic yet again.


    "But you never gave us a sensible answer."


    "Dad, what did science ever give you?" In his anger, Max hit the most vulnerable spots. "Guaranteed in-modes? Half a kilo of concentrate per day with your favorite flavor additives? Are you proud that your children are ''cans''?"


    "I don¡¯t want to hear your teenage slang!"


    "Well, you''ll just have to deal with it. You started this conversation."


    "We never raised you to be so cruel and vicious!"


    "I''d rather go and work, Dad! I''d rather do something useful. I swear that I will get out of the in-mode!"


    "You blame me, then? You refuse to accept that there was a disaster, a catastrophe, and that we aren''t the only ones suffering?"


    "I don''t give a shit about the others! How many years has it been? Thirteen? What were you and Mom thinking? Look at Johnny, he was born after we''d been packed away into the in-modes!"


    His father frowned, silent. "They convinced us that the in-modes would be a temporary measure." He said glumly after a while. "Max, calm down. We''ll move in a year''s time!"


    Yes, of course. There he goes again. It''s always the same story! "A huge, beautiful Antarctic city. There is no industry. There are no toxic emissions. Our life will be different," he mentally imitated his father''s way of speaking and barely held back from making another caustic remark. What did different mean?


    "Max, everything that happened was a result of overwhelming circumstances." His father droned on. "We''re a family. We need to support each other and not fight over every small thing."


    "Small thing? You think thirteen years in the in-modes is a small thing?! And we haven''t been a family for a long time!" Max replied harshly. "You can''t do anything! All you do is lecture me in the mornings! What has science ever given you?"


    "We''ve kept our place in the Middle Layer!"


    "Exactly," scoffed Max, making a flicking motion with his hand. "So what are you pushing me towards? What promising research areas? No thanks! Watching you has been enough for me."


    "What are you planning to do once you''re an adult, then?" his father persisted.


    "I''ll figure something out."


    "Max, only the servos perform unskilled labor! Or have you decided to stay in the Layer forever? Will you make a living from being an extra, some poser in a virtual reality?!"


    "I''ll go into business. The people who live above the clouds don''t work in science, that''s for sure! They''re making money and feeling pretty good!"


    "Max!"


    "What? I''m sick of your stories!"


    "You''ll be nothing in this world without knowledge." His father was still trying to get through to his common sense. "Think about it, Mars is being explored as we speak, and the first interstellar flight is being planned."


    "So what?"


    "They''ll need young specialists there! I''m not talking about promising areas of science for no reason! You are nothing right now, I am sorry to say, without specialist education. You will remain nothing, no matter where you go. Even if you manage to climb above the clouds by some chance! If the glass is empty, it will remain so no matter where you place it!"


    Crimson splotches appeared all over Max'' pale face.


    That''s it, the day was completely ruined!


    "This will all be over tomorrow!" he yelled angrily.


    <h6>* * *</h6>


    The breakfast was a moody affair. Samantha tried to dispel the gloomy family atmosphere with her clumsy jokes but Max was rude to her as well. In the end, Johnny started crying, unable to understand why everyone was angry.


    Max'' mother was the first to crack. She suddenly glared at her son and said, "Go! The family connection is over for you today."


    "Great! Finally!" Max felt ready to burst from anger, and he immediately disconnected from the in-mode network and was alone.


    The taste of crumpets filled his mouth. For some reason, tears came to his eyes.


    "To hell with all of you!" He spat the lump of food concentrate into the waste disposal and wanted to slip online as he always did, but the surrounding holographic sphere turned a shade of gray and became as murky as the industrial fog.


    "Access is denied" The system message appeared in front of the gray haze.


    Max sighed. Of course, since he hadn''t yet completed all the mandatory morning procedures. The system was monitoring him. The life support system was blocking the global network connection. He had to complete all his physical exercises first and only then could he do whatever he wanted.


    The gym pieces moved forward from their recesses. The in-mode developers had thought of everything. They used the experience gained from long interplanetary flights to carefully regulate the life of the inhabitants on the problematic city levels, to ensure that billions of people maintained their muscle tone, and remembered what their family members looked like, rather than simply existing as ''cans'', like Max had bitterly said to his father earlier.


    Net time: 9:54 AM.


    He undressed and glanced briefly at his reflection in the shiny front panel, which showed a pale and skinny youth, who was willing to do anything just to find himself in the world of illusions, to live through yet another worthless day of his fake existence.


    He had to have a shower after the gym workout, and the in-mode''s internal space changed again. Max was enveloped in a cloud of tiny water droplets, the cool massaging his hot body and washing away the sweat, tension and irritability.


    At last!


    He reached into a recess and took out his everyday clothes, made from a thin and elastic mesh material that fit snugly against the skin and which contained nanofibers, designed to transmit a range of tactile sensations. The rest ¨C the smells, sounds and surrounding climate ¨C were produced by the in-mode equipment.


    <h6>* * *</h6>


    The Layer.


    "All that we have left in life." Max often heard this phrase from his father but until recently, he hadn''t understood the meaning or the bitterness in his father''s voice.


    The world outside the in-mode had receded long ago, turning into a distant and insignificant memory, while the momentary desires and rage of a youth, directed at the system as a whole, and at his parents in particular, were expected to pass in time.


    In actual fact, Max was quite content with the status quo, while all the "I''ll escape this!" exclamations were nothing but embittered bravado, lacking any resolve to truly change anything.


    The Layer was an infinite space of endless freedom. It was modeled on several city levels, but this served as simply a bleary background, gray and obligatory, like a few fundamental rules that must not be broken.


    Firstly, the avatar was always initiated in the same place, beside the entrance to the building where the user''s in-mode was located in reality.


    Secondly, a person had to perform a multitude of real movements in order to move around in the Layer. If you didn''t move your feet over the in-mode''s treadmill, you didn''t go anywhere. To pick up an object in virtual reality, you had to extend your arm and wrap your fingers around it, and this was the same for all online actions.


    The in-mode inhabitants were forced to move and experience physical activity, otherwise, they wouldn''t have lasted long. "Movement is life," insisted the developers. The older generation agreed with this, while Max'' generation and those younger than him performed the required actions without questioning them.


    Objectively, there were four Layers of virtual reality in Earth''s cyberspace, although only three of them were usually mentioned. Each one was inexplicably linked to the users'' social status and living conditions. For example, if you were the statistically average in-mode inhabitant, you were welcome to the second Layer, which was called, contrary to simple maths, the Middle.


    It was simply the way it was. The first Layer was the Lowest. The second layer was the Middle. The third layer was the Upper, while the fourth layer, called Celestial, was almost a myth. Nobody had ever met a person from the Celestial Layer.


    Max Bourne''s avatar appeared at the entrance to the building, on the filthy and nauseatingly familiar street.


    Disgusting smells immediately surrounded him like a toxic cloud. The source of the stink was the piles of trash lying on the street but escaping into virtual reality did not change the real state of things. Max was still in his in-mode but now he was surrounded by multilayered holographic decorations, with feedback devices generating smells and sounds, thus creating a world that did not exist.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He was in a terrible mood.


    The morning fight with his parents was nothing, a minor, frequent occurrence that he rapidly forgot about. The true reason, which Max had mentioned only in passing, bothered him a lot, making him look at the familiar decorations in a different light.


    Piles of rubbish everywhere. The stench of decomposing matter. Human avatars, sneaking like rats along the paths ¨C every thought today was filled with resentment.


    Why had the base of the Layer become a giant dump? Why was virtual reality filled with mountains of refuse, sometimes as high as several stories?


    It was the damn interactivity, any user would have said.


    The developers of the Layer strove to create a fully-fledged simulation of real life. When it became clear that industrial emissions would not cease, the developers were set a seemingly simple goal ¨C to create a model of social interactions in cyberspace and make it so that even the smallest action had its own consequences.


    The result was unexpected and overwhelming.


    It turned out that nobody felt any responsibility for their actions in virtual space. This had been the case since the time of the oldest Net, which had instilled the ideas of unrestricted anonymity and freedom in the human mind.


    Millions of people passed through the Layer base every day, and nobody paid any attention to the little things, like spit on the sidewalk or a candy wrapper tossed beside the rubbish disposal unit. One day, someone must have decided to save a couple of seconds of online time by cutting across the lawn, oblivious to the fact that thousands of other avatars were already following him, creating (due to the interactivity of the space) a wide, lifeless and dusty path where a minute ago lush grass used to grow.


    The base of the Layer kept getting cleaned and restored, yet the situation repeated itself again and again. They even offered to pay for garbage removal but that didn''t help ¨C who would want to pick through piles of waste when the buildings contained thousands of phantom worlds, where one could, among so many other things, easily make money?


    ¡­


    The Layer. Two weeks earlier.


    Network attacks are not a novelty in cyberspace. They are like inclement weather, happening regularly and ruining the whole day. The attack usually has a specific target and alters one of the many realities that exist in the Layer.


    ...There was nothing to indicate any trouble that day. Max was in a great mood. His years of study were over, he had passed his final exams and had been left to his own devices for a period of time. He suddenly had free time and the ability to combine his needs and wants by wandering through phantom worlds and savoring his long-awaited freedom as he waited for his ''independent life'' to begin, as well as the opportunity to make some money.


    Max could see his near future quite clearly. "To hell with the family connections and parental advice," he thought. There were so many opportunities around, so many attractive worlds that were constantly seeking new inhabitants. Questions were solved simply. He intended to be recruited into some fantasy world for a year or so, and then see how things went from there.


    He had decided to spend the two weeks until he reached the age of majority purposefully, wandering around the various gaming worlds and finding the best place for him to live and work in.


    The network attack had caught him unawares. He had been creeping through a fantasy forest, stalking a pair of the local floppy-eared inhabitants and planning to quickly lop off their heads, search their bodies and then head to the nearby town to sell his spoils and look around.


    It didn''t happen. The surrounding trees suddenly became strangely distorted and then disappeared completely, like a mirage. The pearl-like sky cracked like a mirror. The terrain began to look unkempt, the majority of the objects disappeared, with gray tornadoes appearing instead, which everyone knew to steer clear of.


    Max stopped, looking around for the exit. It was usually easy to escape from a difficult area. You simply had to be brave enough to step into a gray tornado. You were guaranteed a virtual death, an exit from the space, and ¨C he grimaced ¨C shock from the pain.


    No, no way. Max was afraid of physical pain. He couldn''t stand it. Therefore, he must find an island of stability among the chaos, he decided calmly and sensibly, without panicking. That''s where he would exit, without torturing himself.


    He noticed a misty strip of forest up ahead. It was around half a kilometer away. There were fewer tornadoes in that direction, and slipping between then was a trifle for an experienced gamer.


    Max had mapped out a route in his mind and was about to sprint off when he felt a sharp pain. The arrow released by a floppy-eared inhabitant had struck him in the back. Another arrow pierced his calf.


    He fell, howling with pain, and in the very next second, a tornado rolled over him, plunging his consciousness into a state out of time, and his body into paralysis. When the sensation of virtual death dissipated, Max realized that things were much worse than he had first thought. It wasn''t just the separate reality that was under attack but the whole Layer!


    He lay on the reeking slope of a compressed garbage pile. City-level buildings surrounded him. Gray tornadoes drifted between them as well, but the base of the Layer was resisting destruction, with only the occasional gaping hole seen in the skyscrapers, oozing darkness.


    How was he to get out now? The pain slowly dissipated and the wounds from the arrows no longer mattered since he was now at the very base of virtual reality.


    He stood up and looked around.


    Half a meter away from him sat a girl, choking and coughing.


    "Help! Please help me!" She begged when she noticed Max.


    It was usually every man for himself in the Layer. Showing pity was a clear sign of weakness. The word ''friendship'' had long ago become an anachronism and had disappeared from people''s vocabulary. The Layer exploited the most ancient and powerful human instincts, which were normally hidden under the facade of a civilized society. By the time he had reached 20 years of age, Max knew all the vices of virtual reality and no longer questioned its morals. You were either cool or people walked all over you ¨C there was no third option.


    "Help yourself," the reply almost left his lips but he looked at her more closely and was surprised by what he saw. The girl had managed to capture his attention for a minute, which counted for a lot online. Her avatar stood out in its plainness. She was like a nondescript gray bird. People would say that she wasn''t worth a second glance, and yet there was something unusual in her appearance, something mysterious and promising that was hidden from plain sight.


    "What''s your name?" Max stood up, fully conscious of his macho appearance. No wonder! He''d spent so much money on his avatar. He was a man in every sense except one but he did not know this yet.


    "Lisa," the girl croaked, trying to suppress the urge to vomit. "It stinks so much here..." She covered her mouth with her hands.


    "It¡¯s the same smell as always. Well, let''s go then." He took her by the elbow and helped her to stand up. "Where do you need to go?"


    "The Upper¡­ Layer." She vomited after all.


    Bourne stood stupefied. So much for the gray bird! No bloody way! Could she be lying?!


    Lisa''s pale face had turned crimson. "Is sheembarrassed?" The thought scalded him. "Even if she vomited on the street, what''s the big deal? Why go red?"


    "It''s disgusting... here." She took his hand. "I''m sorry, I couldn''t help myself."


    "Forget it. Are you really from the Upper Layer?"


    "Yeah." She smiled pitifully.


    Max felt incredibly cool. Slaying the dragon and saving the princess was child''s play compared to this.


    "Well, come on then." He confidently drew Lisa with him into an alley. Max had never been to the Upper Layer. It was too expensive and risky, but even a complete loser knew where the guides hung out. For the right amount of money, they could take you on a wicked trip through the Net. Max had neither the finances nor the desire to test fate in such a way. If he were to be caught, he would not get away with just a lecture. They would take away his avatar and block his access to the Net, leaving him stuck in his in-mode for a whole week, and then he would have to perform corrective work, such as cleaning up garbage. He hesitated for a second but Lisa''s begging eyes made his teenage ego rear its head and shut up the timid voice of reason.


    Climbing up the piles of rubbish and the rubble from surrounding buildings ¨C the interactivity of the Layer was very annoying sometimes ¨C they reached a narrow cleft. The road was here somewhere, surrounded on either side by walkways, but the devil-may-care attitude to the inhabited world had turned the alleyway into an offshoot of the landfill. The winding path led into darkness. The stench became dense and sticky, almost tangible.


    Lisa coughed fitfully but Max did not stop and simply dragged her after him. His imagination was presenting him with vague but very exciting images. The rules of the genre meant that saving the girl would be followed by a reward. The hormones had done their work. The risk no longer seemed so great. "Forget the money, I''ll earn more," he thought.


    A faceless shadow stepped away from the wall and blocked their path.


    "Where?" the guide inquired curtly.


    "To the Upper Layer."


    "A hundred, and another two hundred once you get there."


    "For what?" Max asked indignantly.


    "Look around you." The guide indicated the global breakdown around them and the associated difficulties.


    "Fine," Max sighed. "Here!" He touched the shadow, and three hundred credits immediately disappeared from his personal account. It was almost all of his savings, which he had been planning to use to buy a sports flycar!


    Oh, to hell with it! He began to shiver.


    The faceless shadow accepted the payment. Lisa pressed closer to Max, unable to believe that her nightmare would soon be over.


    The buildings suddenly rippled and disappeared. The stink dissipated. Max'' head started spinning and when his consciousness cleared again, he was standing in the Upper Layer.


    Max looked around him.


    In truth, he was disappointed. It was a complete dump, in the language of the Net. The fields, hills, and woodlands, the glitter of a meandering river, the air heavy with the scent of freshly mowed grass, a few squat buildings in the distance ¨C it was obvious that the virtual reality designer lacked the brains and talent to create something truly interesting.


    Lisa'' legs gave out from under her. She sank into the grass and began stroking it. Had she lost her mind?


    "Hey, what''s up with you?" Max said nervously.


    "It''s so good to be home." Lisa looked up at him gratefully. Her eyes glowed with a sincere joy. There was a smile on her face. "Is it time for you to go back?" She asked suddenly.


    It was like she had poured a bucket of cold water over his head.


    Max choked.


    "Is she joking? Or is she asking for it?" The last thought was too rude. The girl suddenly seemed so attractive, maybe because she was out of bounds, making Max'' head spin and his voice betray him by shaking.


    "Let me walk you home, at least!"


    "No, that''s not a good idea. You''ll get into trouble." She replied softly and hesitantly.


    "I don''t care!"


    "Alright, you can walk me home. It''s not far. Do you see the house on the hill?" She suddenly laughed, happily pointing to a distant two-story building, surrounded by a garden.


    "That''s where you live?" Max was expecting to see a palace with a hundred spacious rooms at least.


    "Well, this is just the virtual model of our real house. A little exaggerated, of course." Lisa admitted with some embarrassment.


    "Where''s your real house?"


    "In reality, where else? But everything is a little different there. Space is limited due to the dome, with the clouds below and the city underneath them. There''s not much space for plants. My real garden is small but very pretty! I chose every plant myself. I went to the Genesis Expo especially. Do you have any idea how much a sapling costs these days?"


    "Well?" In Max'' world, vegetation was nothing more than a background, and the most primitive and useless background at that. He knew about the biosphere that used to exist on Earth, and he considered it appropriate and sensible to try and recreate it in some historical realities, but here, in the Upper Layer? What the heck for?


    "One of the saplings cost me seven thousand credits! It was really hard to persuade my father. He was so angry, he even called me a spendthrift!" Lisa looked sad. "And the sapling didn''t even survive, can you imagine?"


    Max couldn''t imagine it. He did not understand her sadness and did not share her tender delight. But he kept quiet, hoping to thus appear clever. It was an old trick. Keep quiet and listen when you find yourself in a new reality.


    No, this was not how he had imagined the Upper Layer at all.


    Lisa took him by the hand. She was acting carefree and looked happy. A dreamy smile hovered around her lips. They walked along a road that meandered by the river and between hills. Max could not stop feeling surprised by the endless expanse, the lack of human crowds, and yet it made him feel uncomfortable. He didn''t like it here. It was completely uncool and even boring. There was nothing to draw the eye. Nothing mysterious. Living in such a Layer must be dead boring.


    <h6>* * *</h6>


    As it turned out, they had nothing to talk about. They had no common topics so they stayed silent for a while. Eventually, Lisa took the initiative and began to tell him about her life, how she reads antique books in the evenings, sitting in her tiny garden paradise.


    "I''ve read my father''s whole library, if you can believe it. Some books made no sense, of course."


    "Why?" Max'' enthusiasm was rapidly waning. Instead of a promising adventure, he had obtained something boring and mediocre. He was still trying to keep the conversation going, out of habit, using meaningless phrases and questions. It''s the Upper Layer, after all, he kept thinking. Surely there was something worthwhile here, somewhere?


    "You see, they talk about a completely different world," Lisa was saying excitedly and leaning close to him, which made Max'' skin tingle. It was a terribly pleasant sensation. "People seem so strange in those books. Not like us at all. They think differently, they talk differently."


    "Books..." Max frowned. "Are they those thick, heavy things with plastpaper pages?" He tried to show off his knowledge of the ancient world. In truth, he had come across such artifacts in games. You could use them to obtain certain useful skills, but you didn''t need to read the book, just hold in in your hands for a few seconds.


    "Yes, precisely!" Lisa brightened up. "But in reality they are very fragile and old. Many of them actually have paper pages, can you imagine?! They are treated with special chemicals so that the paper doesn''t fall apart."


    "What do you need them for?"


    "My father collects antiques."


    "To show off?" Max suggested intuitively.


    "Yeah, kind of," Lisa admitted with a sigh. "He''s very rich. He''s got his own quirks. He gets annoyed when I pick up his books, but they''re not just there for show, right?"


    "I don''t know," Max shrugged. "If I need information, I download it from the Net into my cyberstack."


    The topic of antiques did not interest him in the slightest but the subtle scent of Lisa''s hair stirred something up inside him. But why? Among the puzzling desires and impulses sat a sensible question: what''s so special about her? Was it the effect of the Upper Layer?


    He sneaked a glance at her again.


    There was nothing special about her! Apart from howrealhis feelings seemed and the acute, piercing emotion that her appearance stirred up inside him.


    <h6>* * *</h6>


    Casually chatting in this manner, they rounded a hill and suddenly came across a small gazebo, which lurked at the bend in the river, beneath two spreading ivy trees.


    Two guys lounged there, appearing to be Max'' age. They sat in rough-hewn and uncomfortable-looking armchairs. One was staring intently into a twinkling cube, while the second one chewed on a blade of grass and glanced around him with a bored expression.


    "Hey, Lisa!" The unimpressive avatar noticed the pair and waved for them to come closer. "Come on over!"


    "Are those your friends?" Max asked.


    The girl tensed visibly. The shadow of annoyance flashed across her face.


    "Yes." She slowed down. "You know, it would be better if you went back to your Layer. I''ll be fine on my own. You don''t want to mess with them, believe me."


    Max again felt a burning sense of disappointment and hurt. He had been subconsciously expecting a completely different outcome. He glanced at the girl''s freckled face. "Why are they all so pale here?" Came the annoying thought again.


    "I''ll stay!" He answered it like a challenge.


    "As you wish," Lisa accepted this easily. "Let''s go then," she took his hand and drew him after her. "Just don''t go picking fights. And don''t get mad if anything happens, you were the one who asked to stay." She warned him gloomily.


    "Wow!" The guy acted surprised. "Lisa, why did you bring a ''can'' here with you?"


    "Gleb, would you drop it?" The girl sat in one of the armchairs, looking with interest at the pieces arranged inside the cubic space. The whites were clearly losing.


    "Well, well, I had no idea that you visit the Middle Layer for this kind of entertainment." Gleb grinned arrogantly. "How is he? Not bad?"


    "Are you looking for a punch in the face?" Max seethed with anger at once.


    "Oh, please! What, from you?"


    Bourne launched himself at his opponent but his arm passed right through the virtual body, and sudden pain appeared in his knuckles ¨C he had struck the tall, plainly carved wooden back of the armchair.


    "How was that?" Gleb grinned maniacally. "What are you bulging your eyes out for? The laws of your Layer don''t work here!" He smiled nastily. "Have a seat." His hospitality was an obvious act. "Your arm won''t fall off, don''t worry, it''ll just hurt for a bit."


    Now Max couldn''t just turn around and leave. It would have meant defeat. Pride had nothing to do with it, he was simply overcome with rage.


    He sat down, staring at Gleb as if to challenge him and ignoring the second guy, who hadn''t said anything.


    "Dima, either make a move or resign. I''m sick of waiting for you. It''ll be checkmate in a couple of moves anyway."


    "Let me think!"


    "All right, try to strain your brain a bit." Gleb agreed condescendingly.


    Lisa stared gloomily at the arrangement of pieces inside the transparent cube.


    Max had no idea what they were doing.


    "Well, ''can''." Gleb turned to him. "How are you finding this Layer? Do you like it? I see you''re awfully muscular."


    "And you''re a real pipsqueak!" Max was so pissed off that he felt his head spinning. "You couldn''t order a normal avatar? Or couldn''t you afford a decent virtual designer? You made it yourself?"


    Gleb laughed for a whole minute, then wiped the tears from his eyes.


    "What''s so funny?" Max instinctively curled his hands into fists.


    Lisa leaned towards him. "We don''t use avatars," she whispered reproachfully. "Everyone wears their real faces here."


    "Why?!" Max'' eyes widened.


    "Wearing an avatar is considered rude. It''s not what normal people do."


    "So, I''m abnormal, in your eyes?"


    Lisa shrugged but didn''t say anything.


    "You''re a ''can''." Gleb kept grinning at Max, looking him up and down. "What, you don''t get it? Not familiar with the word?" He completely ignored the boring chess game and began to openly make fun of Max. "Before synthetic food appeared, it was how people preserved their food," He explained condescendingly. "Meat, for example. They would put the meat in tin cans and store it for years. Just like an in-mode, right?"


    At first, Max was at a loss for words and couldn''t think of a suitable comeback, while Gleb was on a roll.


    "You''re a slave, actually. A slave to our whims and pleasures."


    "Watch it!"


    "Why? You don''t like hearing the truth? You shouldn''t be here at all! We''re free to go to the Lower Layer for fun. You''re obliged to please us. How do you earn a living, for example?"


    Max looked at Lisa for support, but the girl only shrugged, as if saying, "You''re on your own, I warned you after all."


    "I will have my own Universe!" Max burst out. Every teenager dreams of their own world, which other users will come and visit, but an enormous amount of work lies between dreams and reality. Max did not have the patience for such online heroics.


    "You will?" Gleb asked cheerfully. "When?"


    "Soon!"


    "Don''t try to avoid the question. How are you earning money right now?"


    "It varies from time to time." Max muttered.


    "And the times are different, are they?" Gleb continued sarcastically. "You''ve never tried the virtual brothels? They pay pretty well. I''ve been to a few and liked it, although when it was time to cough up..."


    "Shut up!" Lisa couldn''t take it anymore, and unexpectedly stood up and slapped him. It was a loud slap across the face, and it even left a red mark on Gleb''s cheek.


    Max could no longer control himself but he couldn''t do anything either. Fury choked him, the urge to beat up Gleb was unbearable, but alas, he did not have the ability to affect things in the Upper Layer.


    Gleb, meanwhile, rubbed his cheek and said threateningly, "Alright, scum, I''ve memorized your face. I hope you don''t change avatars every day. No? Excellent. Just you wait. I''ll come to your Layer and we''ll have a proper chat there." He stood up, rudely shaking by the shoulder his friend, who had ignored the argument in his desperation to solve the difficult chess situation. "Dima, let''s go."


    "Why, what happened?"


    "Nothing happened! Let''s just go. Lisa can have her fun with this piece of canned meat."


    Max had never before felt so humiliated, furious and helpless. Growing up among the bloody gaming realities, he never stopped to think about when to strike and when to run away. Always strike, always. Preferably to the death, so that even after respawning, the opponent''s bones would ache from the virtual fractures.


    "Well, how was that?" Lisa crossed her legs. She was acting very oddly, the dreamy smile gone and her face angry and focused.


    "What the hell was he talking about?!"


    "Regarding your Layer?"


    "Yup." Max sat down in the awkward armchair and glared after the two receding figures.


    "Gleb spoke the truth. Do you really not understand anything?" She was surprised.


    "No!"


    Lisa pursed her lips. "You''re a tough case. I thought you were aware of your position in society."


    "He called me a slave!"


    "Who are you then?" The girl seemed to be deliberately adding fuel to the fire by continuing with this dangerous topic.


    "I''m a free man!" Max yelled.


    She shook her head sadly. "You''re a free avatar."


    Max frowned as she continued.


    "Gleb is an asshole, of course, but he''s right. You are a slave to the in-mode, to your living circumstances, to your status at birth, to the way of thinking formed in the virtual reality, any of these can be a reason. This does not change the essence."


    "We will move the Antarctic Megacity soon!" He shouted out his last trump card.


    "And who will you become there?" The girl asked.


    "I don''t know, I haven''t thought about it yet!"


    "You will live in the Layer, no matter where you move to," Lisa stated confidently.


    Their conversation was turning out to be strange and unpleasant.


    "Why do you keep harping on about it ¨C the Layer, the Layer!" Max snarled. He could see nothing shameful in his way of life. "The virtual worlds constantly require inhabitants! They pay well. I could be anyone I want, a Roman legionnaire or a space explorer!"


    "Which roles do you prefer?" Unlike Gleb, Lisa asked the questions without sneering or sounding arrogant, but rather like a researcher who has obtained a unique study sample. Max, blinded by his strong emotions, didn''t notice this.


    "Well, I like fantasy worlds! I enjoy racing too but I can''t afford a decent flycar yet."


    "Fine, let''s say that you don''t feel like a slave, but this doesn''t change the nature of things." She stood up, came to sit on the wide arm of Max'' chair and then gently touched his cheek, demonstrating her absolute right to affect objects in this Layer, reminding him of who was the owner and who was the guest. "Please don''t be angry! I like you, as a matter of fact." Her touch made him feel both hot and cold. "Do you want to understand what''s going on? And tell me, what would you prefer, the cruel truth about yourself or a quickie as a sign of my gratitude for saving me?"


    A few minutes ago, he would have picked the latter but now, his mind whirling from her proximity, Max suddenly began behaving contrary to his desires.


    "The truth," he grunted. "But how do you know who I am, how I live, and what I''ll become?!"


    "It''s my field of expertise," Lisa replied confidently. "I''m studying at the Academy of World Government. I''m in my last year. I study the psychology of cyberspace inhabitants."


    "So how did such a clever girl end up amongst piles of rubbish?!"


    "Well, if you remember, there was a network attack." The girl ignored the gibe. "I was tossed down into the base Layer. We normally get direct access to the right reality, bypassing your dump," She explained. "I was confused and frightened, my ability to instantaneously move through cyberspace was blocked. The defense programs that normally filter out most of the unpleasant interactive effects had stopped working. I would have suffocated there from the stench. For real! You really did save me." Lisa whispered the last phrase into Max'' ear, her breath hot on his face.


    He was completely lost in his urges, desires and thoughts. To hell with this Upper Layer!


    "Do you remember how I was talking about books?" Lisa continued calmly as if ignoring his emotional state. "There were quite a few science fiction novels in my father''s library. I read them all. The people in the twentieth century described the future so ridiculously and one-sidedly! They invented a lot but they could not imagine our reality at all!"


    Her words flowed past him without eliciting a response, or so Max thought. He no longer wanted to hear the rest, no matter what she said. He wasn''t interested in this ''truth'' at all. He wanted to find a reason to stand up, turn and walk away, to forget about today''s adventure forever.


    "You see, Max, you are all," Lisa was clearly lumping all the inhabitants of the Middle Layer together, "complete sociopaths. These bizarre fantasy worlds have altered your consciousness, and have raised you all to possess qualities that have nothing to do with the real world. Love, friendship, honor, duty ¨C do these words mean anything to you? Or have they been lost forever? Who and what do you treasure most of all? What does family mean to you, for example?"


    Max only grimaced.


    "I''ll go." He muttered.


    "No!" Lisa grabbed his hand. "Answer me first."


    "You''re even worse than Gleb!"


    She shook her head in desperation. "Even if the level of industrial fog suddenly drops, nobody will let you out into the real world."


    "Why?!" Max said indignantly.


    "Because a huge segment of the economy will collapse." She replied briskly. "Eighteen billion people currently live on Earth. Four billion live in in-modes, another billion even lower than that, in the capsule blocks at the very bottom. Thirteen billion people live above the middle. Think about or just try to imagine this number of people, concentrated in the megasuburbs, in the narrow layer between the industrial fog and the real clouds. They have nowhere to go. Nowhere to have fun. There is only one source of release for them ¨C the phantom worlds of the Middle Layer. But the World Government has forbidden the use of artificial intelligence on the Net, thus creating a serious problem. Cyberspace has become predictable and boring, and a person who is going crazy from boredom is incredibly dangerous, believe me. The problem was solved as soon as the in-modes appeared. Now the worlds in the Middle Layer have no purely computer characters ¨C they have been replaced with you."


    "The population of the gaming worlds is actually made up of real people?" Max finally began to understand what Lisa was getting at.


    "Didn''t you know that?"


    "I never thought about it." He grunted.


    "You get paid. Only a little, the barest crumbs, to ''live'' in a specific fantasy world. But why? And where does the money come from?"


    "I have no idea!"


    "Residents of the megasuburbs have to pay to enter the Layer," Lisa explained eagerly. "But every user wants to get the full range of possible entertainment for their money, and the computer bots simply can''t handle such a challenge. Do you see? For the last ten years, in-mode inhabitants have completely replaced computer characters and have introduced variety and unpredictability into the fantasy worlds... and have become the slaves of the Layer."


    "We are the living decorations?!" Max shuddered. He had never thought about it from this angle.


    "Well, you happily transform into a monster if the contract pays well, right?" Lisa asked.


    "Yes," He admitted and gulped.


    "The owners of the fantasy worlds are the richest people on Earth. They pay you with money taken from other users, who, unlike you, do not live in the Layer but rather come there to amuse themselves in the way that they prefer. It''s a well-functioning system. Nobody will lift a finger to change it. While the users are happy, while they have something to amuse themselves with and to waste time on, nobody will go out onto the street, nobody will protest, and nobody will even ask the awkward questions. That''s why you will stay in the in-mode forever."


    "What''s the way out?" Max asked, bewildered.


    "There isn''t one. At least, not with the way things stand currently, when only 5% of the population work in real sectors of the economy. Perhaps something will change when we settle Mars, I don''t know. So far, research is painting quite a dark picture. The people of the Layer are morally dead."


    "Why are you telling me this? To make me angry?"


    "You asked me yourself. I wonder what you''re like in real life?" Lisa smiled sadly. "The avatar is just an attractive mask. Where is your soul, Max? Do you feel it yourself, are you aware of it?"


    He shrugged carelessly. "I''m not interested in that."


    "I know." The regret in her eyes became cold and thorny. "The people of the Layer have forgotten how to observe. They have made life worthless. Nobody is responsible for their actions. Most families have split up. A new generation has grown up which has been corrupted. You endlessly exploit your most primitive urges: you kill, wallowing in the bloody special effects. You roam from reality to reality. Your women are skilled at love but are unable to feel love. Your men are brutal but do they really know what courage is?" Lisa asked, looking at him thoughtfully. "And like a stone, you drag the other thirteen billion users with you to the bottom. No ancient science fiction writer could have predicted such a civilization..."


    "Enough!" Max shouted, unable to stand it anymore.


    "Shall I let you go?"


    "Yes!"


    "As you wish," Lisa shrugged her shoulders in disappointment.


    A flash of light, a brief spell of dizziness.


    The stench was overwhelming.


    He opened his eyes. He was surrounded by mounds of rubbish, with gray tornadoes drifting between them.