I opened my eyes. The blue haze quickly faded.


    Another second and the force of gravity came crashing down. I stood on the ground. My ears filled with the noise of wind. The wind itself gently touched my cheek, bringing the freshness of rain. I stood in a field of bright green grass, almost up to my shoulders. The sun glowed softly behind a veil of cloud.


    I wore a standard grey vest and jeans. I had a ten-shot Glock X5 in a holster and a knife at my belt. A lighter and a paper map in my left pocket. In my hands were three booklets: “Guidebook on Rim Zero of the Adam Online Universe”, an advert for the Tenshot weapon store, and “Adam Online Version 101.45 Update Information”.


    I had a small uncomfortable bag on my shoulder. In it was a tablet, a flat box of rounds and a Small Medkit.


    The standard set of the new character.


    But since my spawn point wasn’t standard, and instead of a name there was a line, a message lit up before me, complete with a triangle with an exclamation mark:


    Something went wrong, %Username%.


    Please exit your account and log back in. If the problem persists, please contact tech support.


    Error code: unknown.


    Additional information...


    <u> </u>


    I threw away the booklets and walked toward a semicircular white cottage, almost disappearing in the grass. The system message hung before my eyes. A second message layered on top of it:


    How do you rate our tech support service?


    ??????


    I pressed five stars just to get the message out of the way. It wasn’t just annoying, it was alarming: would a tech support bot be closing in? There were no instructions about that.


    I’d almost reached the white cottage when a booklet appeared in my hands again: “Information on Adam Online Interface Updates”. It looked like it wouldn’t disappear until I read it to the end. I quickly skimmed through the booklet and threw it into the grass. But then it rematerialized in my bag. Alright, fuck it.


    I reached the cottage. Remembering forgotten skills, I gazed along the cottage walls, expecting to read its stats, but saw nothing. Oh, right. I’m at level zero. All the info is through that dumb tablet. I took it out, switched it on and aimed it at the tent. There it is:


    Improved Tent.


    Structure class: shelter.


    Structure type: temporary accommodation.


    Owner: %?????????%.


    Access: public.


    Level: 5.


    Defense: 300,000/300,000.


    Durability: 100,000/100,000.


    Dimensions: %???% by %???% square meters.


    Capacity: from 1 to %???% guests.


    Effects:


    Partisan Trap. The tent may disappear from other players’ field of view.


    Effect range: 50 meters.


    Unknown Effect. Requires 20 Knowledge.


    Note: temporary dwellings can be created by a player in any area, regardless of ownership or permission for construction.


    A hacked tent, too? Now I could definitely expect the tech support bots...


    I put away the tablet, pushed the low door of the white cottage and went in. The system message disappeared immediately. I saw a figure in a bot’s overalls in the gloom. He stood with his back to me. Instinctively, I reached for my holster. The bot turned and I recognized Major General Makartsiev, my superior.


    “Hello, Anton,” he said. “You should know that this is just my image uploaded into a bot. It’s programmed to only answer questions on the mission. If you want to find out what I’ve caught fishing and other trivialities, we’ll have to catch up in real life. As always, you can visit any time.”


    #


    The Major General imitated the habits of the original. From time to time he patted his chest where he normally kept cigarettes, but then remembered that there weren’t any here.


    “You are aware of the primary goal,” he began. “Let me tell you what they didn’t tell you at your pre-flight briefing. The Mentors exist. That’s a fact. But more importantly, the consciousness of Nelly Valeeva exists too.”


    “What? She digitized herself a hundred years ago.”


    “Exactly. She exists in the extranet, fully conscious, not subject to informational entropy.


    “Why are you so sure her consciousness hasn’t degraded?”


    “We aren’t sure, but we suspect that somehow, her binary array was fully saved. That’s one of your intermediary goals: find Nelly Valeeva, or rather the digital copy of her consciousness, and learn her degree of entropy.”


    The Major General called up a projection interface:


    “Memorize her face.”


    A video came up showing the presentation of the first teharration complex in the world. This video was just as momentous as the Moon landings or the surrender of the Chinese in their war against us.


    “Look, it was almost a hundred years ago,” said Makartsiev. “And practically nothing has changed: a pod of dissociative fluid and a connection to a quantum computing platform.”


    “Only it was crap, Mr. Major General. It was all jury-rigged, like the first exoskeletons.”Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The speaker came into view. A beautiful, strict face. She was a little over thirty then. An aggressive twist of her lip showed that this legendary woman’s character was no rose. As far as I remembered, she even died alone, at her desk. She continued working on the teharration technology deep into her old age. A line of affordable quantum platforms was named after her — NELLY.


    There’s something mystical about the fact that I was sent into the game through precisely one such platform.


    “What’s the point of searching for her by her appearance, Major General? Was it really possible a hundred years ago to digitize an individual to the same detail as we can now? How do we know she looks like that? Does she show up at all in Adam Online? Doesn’t tech support wipe her, thinking she’s just another bug or hacking attempt?


    “That too is a problem you’re going to have to solve.”


    “Sorry, Major General, but the mission looks like I’m supposed to find something without knowing what it is. Adam Online has millions of users and trillions of NPCs at all difficulty levels. It takes half an hour just to go through the list of zones...


    The Major General interrupted me:


    “A year ago, during a random scan of Adam Online traffic, we caught something.”


    He swept away the presentation video. Dragged in a new one.


    Two washed-out female figures stood opposite each other. The image twitched, turned to static. Corrupted snatches of dialog came through:


    “Who are you?”


    “Just like you. A copy of a copy.”


    “Who created the Darknet?”


    “The Mentors from Do...”


    The image blurred. It came together again and started over. I recognized Valeeva as one of the figures. The second was younger, in a vest bearing some kind of emblem, upon which the word Darknet was visible.


    “We don’t know who she’s talking to,” said Makartsiev, anticipating my question. “This isn’t even a video, it’s a three-dimensional reconstruction of raw data caught at random in Adam Online game traffic.”


    “Maybe it’s the start of some porn scene?”


    “The fragment has a date field. The same day that Nelly Valeeva tested out teharration technology: she digitized her consciousness and sent it to the Adam Online version of that time.


    I nodded:


    “I agree, it’s an anomaly. What makes a hundred-year event in new traffic? On the other hand, what’s so special about it? Adam Online isn’t just on servers, it’s in the consciousness of the users connected to it. We could have caught anyone’s nonsense.”


    “The analysis department concluded that Nelly’s companion was an avatar of the Mentors. That’s what we’re going on.


    “I see, Major General. Now another question...”


    A knock at the door interrupted me:


    #


    “Good time of day, players!” said the tech support bot. Without waiting for permission, it opened the door and came in. A standard blue-eyed, broad-shouldered blond.


    Arild 23-003.


    Adam Online Asian Cluster Tech Support Bot.


    << Disclaimer: a majority of users in the Asian Cluster voted for the bot Arild’s appearance. If you consider that your race or gender has been discriminated against, please change the bot’s appearance in your account settings >>


    I moved my hand to my holster, ready to draw my weapon.


    Smiling broadly, Arild approached us:


    “The dispatch station received a notice that there have been bugs in this zone. Will you allow me to begin a scan? Yes-No? In the meantime, please familiarize yourself with the new additions to the interface.”


    Some of those idiotic booklets appeared in the hands of Makartsiev and myself. I didn’t throw them away, just skimmed through them and put them in my bag. The bot turned toward me. The smile changed to concern:


    “We cannot fix the bugs in your account, Username. The error code reports that the reason is your teharration system. The location cannot be Unknown. Please contact your teharration service provider.


    I shot him in the face. Having thoroughly coated the walls in blood, Arild fell to the floor.


    “Hm, you couldn’t bump off tech support in Adam ten years ago.”


    “The users voted for the ability,” chuckled Makartsiev. “You can even fuck them now.”


    I searched the bot, but apart from a pack of booklets and a nametag with its serial number, I found nothing. The habits of a seasoned adamite were slowly returning to me. I put the bot’s nametag in my bag. Then the tablet beeped. I took it out and read:


    Quest available: Fair-Haired Beasts.


    The owner of the All-Seeing Eye chain of stores invites you to cull bots like Arild. Bring the bot’s nametag to any All-Seeing Eye store and you can swap it for money or upgrades.


    Let’s show the fair-haired beasts who’s boss in the Asian Cluster!


    Please note, each nametag reduces your Reputation with the authorities of Rim Zero: -1.


    Makartsiev closed the tent door:


    “In short, a piece of data containing Valeeva was captured from the traffic. We narrowed its source down to Rim Six. It was generated relatively recently. Players are only just starting to take those regions. Actually, they’re only just planning to take them. Nobody has opened a way there yet.


    I whistled:


    “I’ll need to level up a lot to get there.”


    Makarstiev approached the wall of the tent and summoned a projection panel:


    “It’s all been done for you. The bravest warriors of Adam Online have worked on leveling up this character. Meet your new virtual body. We used your old name.


    The name Leonarm lit up on the panel, and a diagram of the character started building. Even in this form, it was clear that the character had been leveled to the max. The UniSu list of skills and upgrades took up most of the panel.


    “Leonarm? I’d rather forget that name...”


    A user of Adam Online could choose any name, whether it was already in use or not. The log-in system used a unique 1024-symbol identifier instead of the name. I remember Adam’s locations being full of Fire Demons, Crushers, Reality Distorters and Supernoobs. Even my Emma had the name Dark Angel. Along with millions of other Dark Angels.


    “Alright, Leonarm is fine. How are the stats?”


    “We chose the Human race for you,” interjected Makartsiev. “Not because you’ve always worked for them, but so that Nelly won’t be frightened at the sight of a bizoid or mechanodestructor.


    “Um, I remember the mechanodestructors, but who are the bizoids? Even I’m scared.”


    “One of the new races. In the years you lived in reality, a few things have changed here. Your achievements and skills are out of date, Anton, so try not to mess up with Leonarm in Rim One. But don’t worry, I’m going to be here for two more hours showing you what’s new in the world...”


    “Why only two hours?”


    “After that, the controllers will pry me out of this tech bot. They’re doing it right now, actually.”


    “Who are controllers?”


    “They’re designed to deal with hackers like me. If tech support bots are ordinary NPCs designed to fulfill one task — to eliminate bugs — then the controllers are here to neutralize cheating players.


    The walls of the tent shook. A notification lit up on the panel. A missile strike had eaten through half the defenses. I couldn’t help but smile: I was unused to a tent withstanding a missile strike just because it had been upgraded with a force field. A tent! Not a bunker, a tent. I wasn’t at all used to these conventions.


    “That’s it, Anton, they’ve found us. I’ll hold them off, you get elsewhere.”


    Makartsiev waved the image of Leonarm onto me, confirmed the character transfer and fled the tent. As he ran, a heavy Nevsky infantry exoskeleton formed on his body, almost the same as the type used in real military theaters. The real military preferred realistic equipment even in a virtual world.


    Then I felt myself changing. My vision flickered out and appeared again, now equipped with neurointerface data.


    #


    I opened up the character tab.


    My head span from the abundance of data. To go from level zero to three hundred was stressful even for a digital conscious.


    Name: Leonarm.


    Player: %Username% (Error! Check teharration system settings).


    Race: Human.


    Level: 322.


    Classes: gunner, technolord, stalker.


    Why all these classes? Don’t they conflict with each other? It seems the people that leveled up Leonarm disagreed on what was most important for him. Or more likely, they didn’t know who they were leveling him up for and for what, so each went by their own opinions.


    I didn’t even open the Skills tab. I could imagine what that list is like! I moved to the equipment description. Humans were capable of expanding their battle abilities via one method — UniSu upgrades.


    The Universal Suit (UniSu) looked just like a level one or two suit after buying it in the store. After installing the right upgrade in one of the slots, the UniSu turned into both armor and neurosuit for controlling combat machines, and an exoskeleton like Makartsiev’s.


    You could either buy the upgrades or make them yourself...


    The number of slots depended on the UniSu’s level, and could be increased again by the upgrades themselves. A Multislot upgrade could fit in one slot without issue. After which you could put not one upgrade in it, but three or five. The upgrades themselves could be components too. They were made from the corresponding expansions. For example, radiation protection plus infrared, plus vision, plus perception upgrade. In other words, the range of combinations was huge. The UniSu of a single adamite was rarely similar to the UniSu of another.


    I scrolled through the list mindlessly — most of the upgrades told me nothing. There was a time when I knew them all. Damn, what could “Defense Against Bizoid Seed” mean? Or “Leap into the Unknown”? Or “Angelic Shepherd”? Out of interest, I expanded the description of the last:


    Angelic Shepherd.


    Allows you to capture angels and bend them to your will as long as their level is lower than yours.


    Duration: 5 minutes.


    Cost: 1,500 energy per minute.


    So much was new to me. What kind of race was the angels? Fallen ones too. Back in reality, I avoided news about Adam Online. And that was hard. Most people that are forced to spend time in their body to get back into a pod talk about nothing but Adam Online.


    I was afraid that Makartsiev had entrusted this mission to the wrong guy. I was starting to doubt myself.


    “Player Name Hidden is calling you. Action?” the voice of the personal assistant in my head rang out unexpectedly.


    “Accept call.”