Chapter 11


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    First-level mannequin, upgrade available.


    Mannequin? For what - to practice skills? The icon said nothing, just a stylized figure. The text beside it didn''t clarify anything either, only an explanation:


    A percentage will be charged when converting into Delivery Points. You can get your own Skills Coin by ordering through the app.


    It did not become clearer, but at the auction, the main currencies are points, coins, and crystals. Apparently, the main Systems are represented. Or even simpler - all systems are one company, masquerading as different. If someone is tired of working in one system, a "competitor" immediately calls to the other one. Or if someone is not too busy working, then the free time is offered to "profitable entertainment". Capitalism!


    Although Rainin said that the Systems are on their own... You can''t believe everything people say, can you? He''ll tell me horror stories about reality, and then it''ll turn out that his department happens to have a safe intern position.


    When I tried to get a "dummy" the phone reported the need to install a new application. So, let''s think - do I need it? Aren''t there too many wonders for one big, beautiful me? I haven''t figured out Delivery yet, and there''s something else on offer. Too many wonders for one beautiful me.


    No.


    And without waiting for another temptation, I slipped the phone into my pocket.


    Okay, I''m going to start brainstorming! We need to figure out what to do next.


    As luck would have it, not a single thought occurred to me. It''s the chebureks, they must be poisoned! I have to sell the flower and arrange for further deliveries. It is better not to ask Rainin, I already owe him, so I need to find a herbalist myself. Or an apothecary? And such that would deal with magical potions. Who could tell me? The one who persuaded me to do "medium healing potions," he should know.


    That is the road for me to the base. Well, I''ve made up my mind.


    By the way, I still have to figure out what to charge for weed. System points and other coins are great, but it''s someone else''s. Maybe a natural exchange would work better for me.


    Standing at a traffic light, I suddenly thought about everything that was going on around me right now. If I hadn''t found the ring if I hadn''t taken out the warranty, what would have happened? I would have run around for a couple of weeks, saved up some money, and kept playing with my games. I would have remembered it all as a funny story, like "what my parents drove me to". I''d be proud of the suffering I''d endured.


    Would have missed some interesting opportunities.


    Or didn''t get into them? Yeah, I''m just a simple working delivery unit for now. Maybe I''ll upgrade to something cooler, raise my price. But I''ll still be in the System. I tried to wiggle out of it and was immediately offered an alternative. Tried to wiggle out - here''s another System, just stay.


    According to the rules of the fairy tale, it should be three times, but I have a feeling that on the third time I will be forced. I don''t want to know how exactly the soulless, inhuman System can act in such cases. I am not a conflicted person, so let''s go to compromise, that is a smile, a corporate tie, and a willingness to work!


    All those things I hate.


    "Hello, folks!"


    There were no people in the seventh hall... Almost. There was our Protagonist, that is, yesterday''s schoolboy with glasses, and the Old Man explaining something to him.


    "It is unreal, it has no laws. It has us, making up rules and laws for it, which it makes eternal and unchangeable. Until the next operator."


    Yeah, and the Old Man is, unsurprisingly, the "wise mentor of the hero," he even has "Sage 8 lv." in his status. Well, whatever - as long as he''s not the main villain in the third season.


    I interrupted the wise speech: "Better tell me, colleague, where I can sell the loot from a long journey?"


    The Old man glanced at me and muttered a little bit of a tutorial: "Some people don''t learn anything and don''t want to learn. Have you seen too many American movies or marbles gone out of greed? You tell him about the anomalies, he tells you about the loot. They don''t want to think about anything but money. Till his guts are scattered all over the branches."


    "What is this danger? I''ve got protection, and I''m looking around!"


    "It''s not much use," he cut off and turned to Goggles. "Tell me, young man, what is the most dangerous thing in our work?"


    That one suggested: "Dragons?"


    "Unreal. Have you seen people in the scanner with horns and tails and stuff?"


    "Yeah, sure."


    "It''s all unembodied. Something that is ready to appear, but remains an idea. A quest is always a chance to bring your idea to life. Don''t think..."


    I interrupted: "Nothing that could end badly."


    Suddenly I wondered. The Old Man, seeing that I was silent, nodded accordingly: "There, you''re already realizing. Just now, how many quests were there? And in each one, you could grow something or invent a danger that you couldn''t handle. But the main thing is not what could happen. You''re not the only one thinking."


    He looked at me skeptically, demonstratively, and corrected himself:


    "If, of course, you think at all. And after all, hundreds and thousands of people see you every day! And everyone can imagine something. And if they come across something that has had contact with the unreal for a long time... who could it be? Probably someone who walks around unreal like in his apartment doesn''t listen to smart people, and ends up in a bad way!"


    "Then stop talking stuff about me!"


    He smirked: "There is no need to be afraid here, the seventh hall is under warranty. The System takes care of us."


    The megane-kid, who was staring intently into a corner, suddenly asked: "Then why isn''t the world filled with miracles? If everyone can make them up so easily?"


    "First of all, who says it''s not filled? More often use the scanner, just remember that while you don''t see the unreal, it doesn''t see you very much either. And secondly... far more people believe that miracles don''t happen. And that''s even more dangerous."


    I opened my mouth again, let my thoughts out, closed it. Really, if someone thinks I''m someone, that''s one thing. That could still be fixed somehow. But if he thinks I don''t exist? That I seemed to him? That I no longer exist?


    The Old Man continued to inflate: "You think somewhere on the trail, "I am a free bird," and then you flap your wings and fly away. Or someone thought about you, and all you have to do is flap your wings. You won''t even remember that you are actually different!"


    Goggles-kid and I were impressed. Hero was the first to come to his senses, and he asked me a businesslike question: "How to defend yourself?"


    "Wear a cloak, it shields you. Use the bag, it takes the attention away. And do not take difficult quests!"


    He said that, squinting in my direction. Yeah, I guess there''s a chance that I''m going to think of this as a fun adventure and forget all about miracles after all. I don''t like that kind of ending, but there must be something about it that corresponds to the general unconscious.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "All right, the scare session was a success. Better still, enlighten me about the sale of ingredients."


    With a sigh, the colleague explained: "If your head is not working at all, see the list of permanent quests. Set up a filter, finally. And think - if someone constantly orders deliveries to a certain address for a year or more, then there''s business there."


    "What if there''s a trap?"


    "System is not profitable to lose couriers, so they will eat two or three and the order will be closed."


    Encouraged, the kid with the glasses and I went straight to the settings. The Old Man, seeing that his entire lecture had passed our ears, snorted unhappily and covered himself from reality with a newspaper.


    I, scrolling through the list, inquired out of politeness: "Why is it so empty, where is everybody?"


    "Am I my colleague''s keeper?"


    "What about Warlock?"


    The Old man looked over the newspaper:


    "Is there anything specific you want to know?"


    I hesitated, picking my answer. Actually, our Abstinence interested me as an obvious candidate for inquiries about the System of Skills, thanks to his eyesight. By the way, you can get something like that on your own, right? Should I tell myself more often "I have beautiful eyes and can see everything"?


    No, I''ll refrain from experimenting. Otherwise, something grows in the wrong place.


    One of the assignments attracted me with the tag "repeatable," though there was only a "B" and it paid very little but now the benefit was different. It was an assignment that could be booked, which increased the reward by ten percent. I quickly clicked "I agree," and almost immediately the kid in glasses cursed annoyingly.


    Whoever didn''t make it, is late!


    While the storekeeper went behind his barrier to look for the package, I continued my questioning: "Tell me, O great sage..."


    Old man squinted skeptically.


    "There are goat-legs in the hall, one-third of them. Are they "disembodied," too, or is there something else?"


    "Something else."


    Judging by his tone, he wanted to be convinced and I didn''t disappoint him: "What then? Is it an alien invasion?"


    With a sigh, the Old Man began to explain from afar, although he didn''t do it as willingly as he did for Glasses-kid:


    "Any world is a balance of its inhabitants'' perceptions of reality. In fact, the world is born when those who live in it begin to think it is right. Some belief in magic, and it works there. Some worship gods and they come down from heaven. Our world is built on technology and to some it is wild. If I understand correctly, most of these," he nodded toward the common room. "Ordinary peasants or whatever they are. It makes no difference to them whether it''s another world or their towns, and there are bound to be strange creatures and strange wonders in both. They are used to doing simple jobs, living near their tribesmen... The fact that those around them have "straight animal paws" is understandable to them, because everyone who is not born in their village, they are all strange. If our peasant gets into their world he will live the same way, fly around town on a broomstick or whatever, and take orders through a magic ball. We are that deep unreal to them. But they''re almost safe for us, too."


    Having engaged in his favorite business, i.e. preaching, the old man became lively again, but I was more interested in something else. After thinking it over, I specified: "So inter-world travel isn''t too dangerous after all, is it?"


    He rolled his eyes but answered: "The main problem with the outer quests is not the danger, but the fact that you can''t escape from there. At our place, you see something, jump off the trail, and you''re more or less home. Penalty, of course, takes away points, but you are alive. And there until you''ve completed the delivery, they won''t show you the way back."


    "Better yet, tell me another thing - is there any way to make a permanent route?"


    "Through the setting?"


    "Yep."


    This time he rolled his eyes even more, but he answered anyway: "You have to get a foothold there somehow, that is, get a status. These," he pointed to the common room. "They got a license, and it worked as a justification for being here. You can buy real estate, or rent real estate, or whatever, you can figure it out from the setting. And then opens a tab for local assignments. You do as much as they tell you..."


    I interrupted: "How much, approximately?"


    "Somewhere around a hundred or more."


    "Quests?!"


    "Yeah."


    "Damn..."


    The Old man smiled sneeringly and remained silent. But on the other hand a hundred quests there is a lot of points!


    There was a cough from the counter, and the storekeeper laid out a small package. Putting it in the bag I shook it - definitely, something liquid. And delivery to the pharmacy, that is, everything as I was recommended.


    "Bye, folks! Oh, no - who knows why you have to put your nose to the screen when you confirm?"


    The old man, without putting down his paper, muttered: "Heel."


    Distracted from his choice of order, Goggle-kid said with embarrassment: "Belly."


    It didn''t get any clearer.


    "Well, then, have a nice day."


    Poke, poke, step.


    On the bus, I tried to see the details of the dummy icon. I couldn''t see anything, and that''s a pity. So anyone with unreal energy, that very saturation, can directly change what''s around them? Or be changed themselves, if one''s will or abilities are cooler. An unpleasant discovery, but then again - who says it''s true? Or - that it''s all true? Eh, that man was right to say: in much knowledge are many sorrows. Someone simple would think about simple and good things, but I think about the fate of the universe, maybe that''s why I''m scattering my magical talent. But I support all things with my mighty mind!


    Found the pharmacy quickly, with only two conditions of arrival at the place. They don''t seem to be hiding much. Inside, it looked more like a stylization of the nineteenth century, the girl behind the counter even had some kind of bonnet on her head made of starched fabric.


    Apprentice Potionist, 11 lv.


    "Good afternoon, delivery."


    It''s a good identification sign - if a girl smiles or shows the fuck in the camera, it''s understandable. And if in response she takes hers and scans, it means she''s one of ours.


    "Hello."


    She took my roll and shoved it somewhere under the counter. Well, no howls of "mortal!" or promises to put me on ingredients, it''s a shame. Well, the customer is adequate, let''s try to start a conversation:


    "It''s nice here. It''s just like a real magic pharmacy."


    "Been to faraway worlds?"


    Is she talking about unreal?


    "Yeah, but it''s boring. There''s no wifi."


    "But the food and fabrics are natural."


    "By the way, do you accept flowers from there?"


    Without much interest, she pulled out a pile of scuffed printouts in files from her locker and laid them out in front of me. We identified the merchandise from the picture on my phone; the price wasn''t too high, but five hundred points didn''t hurt, either.


    They grow next to the road.


    "Do you work every day? I''m contracted to deliver to you on a regular basis."


    "Yeah, all day."


    "I''ll bring it by tomorrow morning, then?"


    There was small talk. In fact, I was expecting something more from the sale of a magical flower from another world. More...


    The potion-maker bit her lip and suddenly blurted out: "Hey, can you get me one thing?"


    "From where?"


    "It''s not far from here, you''re a delivery man, they''ll take you in quick ways. It''s just for me to walk a long way. It''s just a little box, one box."


    "And how can I do that? The quest can be assigned to someone else."


    "Nonsense, let''s convert through the board!"


    Apparently, my face was expressive, because she rolled her eyes, pulled out her phone, and started explaining. Ten minutes later, after spending another three hundred points, I gained access to the "Advertisements" section. The girl was looking over my shoulder, pointing her finger, and showing me on her phone the example.


    Private ads, of all kinds, there are even checkboxes like "languages I understand". And next to half of them there is a mark - it is possible to convert to System Tasks. Hmm, it is clear that they take a percentage and not so small, but the idea is interesting. Allows you to choose the quests yourself, instead of mandatory.


    Uh-huh, so now I will not only carry orders, but I will also look for them myself.


    "Okay, all payments through the app. By the way, what do you get paid for potions?"


    I thought there were some coins in here that could be traded profitably in the magical world, but the potionist picked up the phone.


    "Cashless? So you don''t even see any real money?"


    "Have you seen it lately?"


    A logical question. You pay with your phone, order with it, transfer and receive on it. Magic energy is sucked through it, too.


    "Okay, we agreed on the price. By the way, what do you want to brew? What if I get spotted by "cops"?"


    "Cops? Nah," she chuckled. "I want to make a metamorphosis potion, but it''s okay."


    Apparently, my face is too expressive and I''ve read too many NC-17 fanfics. With a snort, she explained the meaning of the potion to me. I know girls aren''t exactly normal creatures, but I clarified: "So you want a real tail?"


    "Yep."


    "And real crest?"


    "Yep."


    "And real fangs:"


    "Yep."


    "You drink this magical crap that grows this on you," I pointed at myself with my fingers outstretched. "With a good chance it''ll grow on you forever, all just for the sake of a Comicon cosplay?"


    She snorted again: "Not for cosplay! But you wouldn''t understand!"


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why don''t you go yourself?"


    "What am I, a fool to wander around in unreal?!"


    It sounded kind of hurtful. The potion-maker, sensing my mood, corrected herself: "Everyone has their own business and their own dangers."


    "What about you?"


    "Yesterday the potion ran away."


    "From the stove?"


    "Outside. Good thing I caught up with it and nailed it down."


    Note to memory: don''t cook anything with magic ingredients. When I eat soup it''s okay, but when soup eats me it''s overkill. After looking at her ad again and checking the details, I pressed the "convert" button.


    You are offered a personal quest.


    Accept/Reject.


    Yes.


    A short wait, the phone bleeped, and I checked the description. So, two pages, and the city is familiar, judging by the name. Very lucky, if it''s the same city in the same world.


    After quickly saying goodbye and making it clear that I would stop by tomorrow with the wilted flower, I left. The sun was still high, and I needed the money. So we open another slot, pick up an order, and hit the road. And not to get bored on the way - message board, search. Topics with the words "skill system dummy", "activation", "advice".


    I''m still wondering what it is, though.


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