Готовый перевод Баффер / Buffer: Глава 1

Chapter 1
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"Olya? Yes, I am. I delivered the last order according to the list, with no complaints. I'll have a bite to eat and be back at five to hand over the money, OK?" I listened to an affirmative answer and switched off my mobile phone. When I was hired, I agreed that I could take an hour's break at any time, and that hour started.

Trying to straighten up, I grimaced as usual. I stretched out my arms - my fingers were barely trembling. Great, saving a pill! The drugs were expensive these days... although working as a courier for a drugstore that sold them had seriously reduced the price.

I need Feritin all the time. "Myshkin's Syndrome" is not a rare thing, but usually, you die of it by the age of twenty. At the age of thirty-five, I was still alive, which pleased my guardian angel, who pretended to be Ivan Ivan Abramovich, M.D. His parents had a good sense of humor, didn't they? Doc did his Candidate of Sciences on me, then I helped him, as research material, with his Ph.D. Soon he'll crawl up to the academy if I don't forget to take a pill one day. If I forget... first the trembling of my fingers, after two or three hours the muscles in my arms and legs twitch slightly, and after a couple of hours they turn into cramps. +++

A day without a pill is a seizure, very reminiscent of an epileptic seizure, which is partly an epileptic seizure. Then I had repeated seizures, with more and more violent seizures. I have not yet survived more than three days without pills, and something tells me that I may not live to see the fifth. Well, to make it even more interesting for the doc to study me, everything is supplemented by rapid physical fatigue. Fatigue is reduced by Sultak, which is only available on prescription and which they want to ban from sale as having something to do with drugs.

Feritin - two thousand seven hundred and forty-two roubles per pack is the lowest price in Russia. Oddly enough, it is more expensive abroad - a reason to be proud of your country! A pack per month. Sultak is cheaper, only six hundred and thirty-seven, at the firm where I work. Another pack. Plus utilities, plus internet. Plus something to eat and something to wear. Thirteen thousand a month in mandatory expenses.

When I was made redundant from the library where I had joined after school and worked for almost fifteen years, I was in a panic. The familiar world was crumbling! No more the quiet backwater of developed socialism, with its tiny guaranteed wages, but the drudgery of capitalist hell! But my first job, which I grabbed without looking, turned out to be more interesting and profitable than the rate of deputy head of the district library. When my father died a year later, the courier rhythm turned out to be a lifesaver. There was too much time in the library for unnecessary thinking. And the road would eat away at unnecessary thoughts.

I turned on my mobile phone.

"Alla, hello, beauti onel! Mihalych, yes... Have you packed? Great, I'll be there at eight, as usual." The plump older woman in charge of placing orders chirped something indistinctly affirmative and hung up. I get too tired too quickly to work on urgent deliveries and work only with pre-packed orders. But I immediately realized that I could take orders from different companies, so I pick up packages at one pharmacy in the evening, then go to a second one in the morning, and, having made a schedule, I can distribute them all day long.

"Hello? Andrei? Yes, I am. I've delivered everything near Prokofievskaya and Maryino. I'll pick up a new pack tomorrow. Anything to post? I'd take it. All right, I'll pick it up tomorrow, as usual."

To summarise, seven orders in one day. In three places, they tipped me. In one, they fed me - an elderly woman who ordered pills dragged me straight from the doorstep into a newly renovated luxury flat, waved at all my denials, poured me a plate of borscht, and watched me eat it with a kind of morbid enthusiasm. It was delicious, by the way. She also gave me a sandwich to go with it. It's not that uncommon... for me, anyway. The other couriers usually just complain about the customers. Sometimes being a hunchback with hollow cheeks is advantageous.

A hundred and fifty per order, plus... so, how much...? I started counting the tips. They rarely do, but they still do. Somehow I counted it up and got an average tip of seventeen rubles per order. Well, every little helps. Plus, a hundred for a bundle of advertising spam spread across the mailboxes.

After buying a glass of instant coffee from a passing vendor, I unwrapped the sandwich. The mutt, sitting on the warm lid of the heating plant, sniffed at me and jumped up, wagging its tail in an ostensibly friendly manner. I was not deceived by its "smile". Wiser animals, living next to people, adopt all their habits, including wagging their tails when something is needed. The dog, realizing he wasn't going to be given anything, barked with the intonation of a provincial goon. I cheekily took another bite and chugged down my fast-frozen coffee. Sorry, flea-bitten, but that's my booty.

"The friend of man" grinned, still wagging his tail by inertia, but hesitating to lunge. Then he barked again.

I finished my sandwich, drank my coffee, gently tossed the cup into the bin, and looked the dog in the eye. The dog, from such insolence, first stopped playing the poor, hurt creature and then started yapping. He muttered a sad, monotonous dog-speak, not out of spite but to express his feelings about the insolent two-legged man who shamelessly eats tasty food without sharing it with the owner of the spot. From time to time, the dog would make a move towards me, indicating its readiness to attack, while surprisingly not moving. Yeah, and now a bus would come, and I would run away cowardly? I don't think so.

"Freeze!" The dog actually froze in place in surprise. The dog's outstretched tail froze at a half swing, its mouth open, and only the scent from its mouth showed that it was not a scarecrow. A trained one, perhaps? I looked back at the approaching bus and got up. Well, flea-bitten, the battlefield is yours. You may rejoice.

Already in the closing doors, he looked at the dog. The dog stood with its tail still outstretched and its mouth open towards the empty bench. Sick, maybe? Or had eaten something? The doors hissed shut, and I almost immediately forgot what had happened.

After handing over the money, I picked up the orders I had collected for tomorrow and went home. Thanks to the current Garant, in a "private" conversation broadcast to the whole country, who expressed the opinion that it should be good form for businessmen to employ "people with disabilities", thereby giving back a "social debt". The next day a campaign "get the handicapped person a job, or the inspections will come" was launched. It coincided with my search for a job, and I am now an "official disabled person" in two companies. It's good for them and good for me. I wish the Guarantors would always come up with such initiatives. Although, Doc did tell me that some firms forced their employees to sign up for disability, not wanting to pay someone on the side. Well, what can you do? There are still some excesses in the field...

The house greeted me with silence, and I turned on the television almost immediately to the muttering. It's the third year I've lived alone. I can't get used to it. If there is someone in the flat, even in total silence, there is at least some sound - the rustling of clothes, the rustling of slippers on the floor, the coughing, the turning of pages, and sometimes the words. I don't like complete silence.

"...A computer virus nicknamed the "game killer" continues to spread. Blizzard announced the server crash yesterday, meaning ten million more people have lost their usual entertainment. "Blizzard" has held out longer than any of its rivals, fending off attacks for five days. It should be remembered that the virus began its march across the World Wide Web a week ago, and during this time, the computer games industry has suffered colossal losses. South Korea, where cybersports are most developed, has been particularly affected. Speaking of Korea, a new hit by a popular artist has exploded..."

I muted the sound. Not good. Minus five grand from the budget.

I've been playing for a long time, since the year 2000, when our library was finally connected to the Internet as part of a government project. I prefer online games, of course, no single-player game is as satisfying as this. "World of Warcraft", the most visited online game, absorbed me from day one. But three years ago, the game began to provide not only moral pleasure but also material profit. Mining in-game gold to sell for real roubles was an unreliable but welcome boon. Now, with the downfall of the servers, I was losing one-sixth of my monthly income. No players - no customers. It was a shame, but I could survive.

Dinner, two pills, shower, blood pressure, vitamins, news. The evening rolled on in its usual way, like hundreds of previous ones. But something was missing, and it was something to do with the computer. Boredom.

The only nice thing about my illness is that it has reduced my need for sleep to four hours a night, spread out over an hour or two at a time. I used to be able to spend them in the virtual world, but now, because of the virus attack, there was just nothing to do. Reading or watching something gets boring by about the second month of being a courier because it's the only entertainment on the road between addresses. I started flicking through the pages, reading the cries of the gamer's soul. After about ten minutes, I realized something was wrong. Judging by the reviews, the attack online was predominantly on fantasy toys. Tanks, shooters, and flyers were all fine. The servers were now groaning under the influx of new players looking for a replacement for virtual fairy tales. But if a gaming service provided access to games on the "fairy tale list" along with simulators, it was just as exposed to a virus attack. A well-orchestrated attack, how many resources someone wasted. And why?

Two tank battles, one plane ride. Not that. Boring. I mechanically tried to open the Warcraft client and admired the "No Reply" sign. Boredom pressed in, the open fanfiction prospect I nervously closed on the second sentence. Shit!

Search in folders, click on the icon, and type in "connect".

MUD "Tales" is a multi-user dungeon, text-based game based on an "Old Slavic" setting, was my first online game. Back then I was called Vyazimir the Wizard and went into the game more to sit and chat than to level up. And then the game world was feverish, clan wars began, squabbles, scandals ... I and a couple of friends tried to open a "mirror" of the game with a ban on wars, but the idea failed. When we first returned from his vacant "paradise", and then there was warcraft, and I became undead-mage Vizymir on the server Warsong. Eh, those were the days...

Welcome to the world of Slavic fairy tales!

179 people online.

Wow, it wasn't like this at the best of times!

//Need damage. A lot!

//Who's in the Ripey? Quick, quick run!

//Knight is looking for a party!

//Man, does anyone have a working config for a kupa? I deleted mine a long time ago.

//How do you guys play this game?

Looks like I'm not the only one suffering without games.

The Tales game system was based on constant leveling up, with experience increases and rebirth upon reaching the maximum 31st level. Rebirth increased all stats by one, mages added one slot per spell round, and fighters received a five percent increase in skill levels. As a result, one fighter of the tenth rebirth was equal in strength to five newbies. But I was too lazy to "Rebirth," and it wasn't the right class. It was boring and dangerous for a wizard to be alone, so I settled on four rebirths and then just wandered around the well-described world.

So, what have I got here?

I checked the in-game auction, fishing out suitable items of equipment. Then I set the gate of passage, the wizards' trademark feature that allowed me to be instantly transported to a pre-remembered landmark, and, after quickly flying along familiar roads, I checked the game shops in the rarely visited cities, spending half my cash.

Finally, having collected fifty to the chance of successful spells, a couple of extra slots for the right circles, and some stuff with charm, a characteristic on which a wizard depends for some skills, I returned to the inn.

//Vizik, sup! - Here's an acquaintance. - Are you going to the Ripey?

//I only have half a hundred casts and no int to seal at all

//Heh! Screw it, I'm naked! I'll just get something from the shop and the five of us can go.

//Remember the old days?

//Exactly! Just like we did the first time!

//Yeah, I remember. Someone died five times then.

//Do you still remember? Yes, those were the days!

//What, you can't pass them, like, alone?

//What's the point? I'm bored on my own. Fucking virus - Wow's down, and so is Linage, at least I'll have some fun here.

//Same thing. OK, where do we meet?

There was no response. After a bit of clicking on the keyboard, all I got was a sad "couldn't connect". Shit! I spent the next five minutes trying to get into the game, but it wouldn't respond.

What the hell?! Okay, Warcraft, but why target text games with a virus? It's like someone's decided to kill everything related to magic on the web...

I hesitated. A puzzle suddenly formed in my head. The dog. Games. Magic. Virus. "Freeze."

In the MUD, all commands had to be typed in manually, and all player and monster actions were displayed in text form. "Freeze!" - was the in-game representation of the wizard's "Stupor" spell. The same spell, but cast by a sorcerer, would have seemed like "Numb!". And I said "Freeze" to the dog. And I'm playing Wizard. And someone is ruining high-margin businesses by selectively dropping all games of magic.

Come on, that's bullshit. It can't be.

I raised my hand, pointed it at the wall... and put it down. Stupid is stupid, but if I hadn't thought about the consequences, I wouldn't have lived to be my age. Feverishly poring over my characters and the magic available to them, I settled on the mage's "Ice Arrow" in Warcraft. Not too strong, fast-acting, strictly single-targeted.

Standing up, he raised his hands in front of him and, looking at the wall, said with an expression: "Ice arrow!"

Nothing.

Yeah, well, it's not supposed to be... it's not a fairy tale or a game. This is life, baby! Magic doesn't work here.

Stop. I'm playing as an undead, and they have a distinctive spell animation. Left hand in front of you, right hand withdrew, rotate clockwise, right hand forward: "Ice arrow!"

Nothing.

Maybe it should be with emotion?

"Ice Arrrrow!"

Nothing.

What if it's the opposite, calm, relaxed?

"Ice Arrow."

Nothing.

Let's try to imagine the visual effect. And the feeling of cold.

"Ice Arrow!"

Nothing. Damn. I already believed it.

The sudden excitement melted away like that ice arrow. There was a slight sense of embarrassment. A grown man, and yet he did such a thing. With a sigh, I took a step toward the chair.

Connect. Couldn't connect.

Pity. I discovered an online chess website. Apparently, no magic was being used, so the site worked as usual. As I stood looking for my opponent, I sat back in my chair. Yes, if everything was as I imagined it would be! Everyone gets their own character's magic! I'd be a Druid! Or Warlocks! Or better yet, into Shaman - throw lightning, and heal. I wonder if the magic from the game could heal in real life.

I glanced at my fingers. No trembling. Good.

By the way, why did I think Warcraft magic would work? Would it make more sense to try some of the wizard's spells? What's in it? Defenses? Not needed, what in life do they protect against? How do you check? Strength enhancement? And what would three strength points give? How many pounds will it add? In theory, if I'm a skinny wizard with fifteen power points, then adding three... will I increase my abilities by twenty percent? And how do you measure that?

The wizard also has various 'visions'. "Seeing the unseen". "Seeing magic". What is there to see in an empty room?

Invisibility. Who do I test it on? Besides, I'm rarely noticed as it is. That's the nature of my body.

The flying spell. Dare to cast it and jump from the fifth floor? No way.

There's no other way to check. Seal? It prevents monsters from entering a room with players. Depends on intelligence. Who can walk into my room? Three kinds of Stupor? Who are we going to numb? Not even flies. Dust storm? Acid? An icy touch? And then there are the 'Protectors' - the weak creatures-familiars. There's an Angel - a strong summon, able to save and heal a wizard. He is incapable of killing anyone. He doesn't take orders and acts on his own accord.

Blinking? It only works when the caster is hit, and not always. Restore? Returns movement points and relieve fatigue. It would come in handy at the end of the day when my legs are aching after delivering my last order, but I'm rested now.

Damn, nothing suitable for experimentation. So I calm down, there's already a blinking request to find an opponent for the blitz party.

Oh yeah, there's also Magic Arrows - the weakest spell, which is rarely used, even in the first levels; it's easier to get a better club and use it to hit an enemy. How does the formula sound?

I pointed my finger at the wall and said:

"Thy arrows are sharp."

Three faintly glowing dots flew off my finger and hit the wallpaper, leaving behind dark spots.

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Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/85480/549159

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP