The Final Trial, page 28
part #3 of Level Up Series
Whenever I tried to speak English, I felt like a dog: I understood everything, but when I needed to say something, I got flustered. Translating the word “fence” from Russian was no big deal. But if I needed to tell someone something about a fence, I would spend a long time digging deep into my memory, umming, aahing and waving my arms, but I still wouldn't remember the word.
So when I was told that the teacher was a native speaker, and an American volunteer at that, I was happy.
I needed to learn English, and not just because I had a meeting with the ambassador scheduled. In recent days, the prospect of losing the interface had started to weigh on me less and less, and I didn't get mired in despair and the futility of my efforts. My habit of not loafing around got the better of me.
When I realized that wasting time on a trip to Moscow before the Trial ended was unreasonable, I wrote to the US embassy worker to notify her that due to certain circumstances I’d need to postpone my visit.
I decided to spend the rest of Monday more productively; it had been too intense, what between the morning meeting with the discouraging news, revenue officers, various rumors, Cyril’s betrayal and the appearance in my life of another interface user.
I spent two hours at the gym and went from there to my evening English class. I was so focused on revising adverbial clauses, which I’d studied on my own, that I didn't immediately feel my phone vibrating in my pocket.
“Mr. Panfilov, this is Angela Howard. I got your message that you want to postpone the meeting. Do you mind if I ask when you’ll be able to come in? Your letter doesn’t say.”
“In about a week. I think I’ll be ready to fly out next week.”
I heard a scraping sound, a muffled whisper, then Angela Howard came back:
“Mr. Panfilov, we’d like to propose holding the meeting in Washington DC. There are now more people who are interested in meeting you, and would it be convenient for you...”
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to see the United States. But could you tell me who these people are exactly?” I had to speak cryptically in order not to encourage the eavesdropping taxi driver’s curiosity.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not authorized to say, Mr. Panfilov. In any case, you’ll find out soon. I’ll mail you details about the formalities of the trip.”
“Thank you, Angela.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Panfilov.”
“Good-bye.”
I spent the rest of the trip to the language center scouring the web. Facebook showed me hundreds of young girls, young women and older women named Angela Howard. I even accessed the infospace, spending on it a tiny fraction of my regenerating Spirit. The Infospace pinpointed a couple of them in Russia, but none in Moscow.
And last but not least, there wasn't a single person by that name listed at the US embassy in the Russian Federation.
* * *
It had been raining all night. The tapping of the raindrops against the window pane had a soothing effect on me. I fell asleep almost straight away and only awoke at sunrise.
The rain had stopped. All I could hear was the rustle of the street cleaner’s broom and the birds singing outside. Good.
Still, something was nagging at me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
I racked my brains, rummaging through all the latest developments. That’s it. It was the rescheduling of the meeting with the Yanks on American turf.
I’d agreed to it way too easily. The risk was quite considerable, though. What could be the possible consequences of such a cooperation?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I might have made a mistake. If things went wrong — like, if they decided to kidnap me and lock me up in some secret government lab — I’d be powerless. I had no particular superhero abilities worth mentioning. As for Lie Detection, that wouldn’t amount to much if I was under lock and key.
So what prevented me from acquiring said abilities now? Having pondered over it some more, I decided it was quite doable.
I was pretty close to making level 20 which would also give me Level 2 in Heroism. This in turn, would open the door to three more Heroic skills.
Once I reached level 20, I could activate the second one of the first-tier skills. By then, I would fulfil all the necessary main characteristic requirements.
The skill in question was Stealth and Vanish. It was pretty self-explanatory but how would this supposed invisibility work in real life? I’d have to work that out by trial and error. For instance, would it make me invisible to CCTV cameras?
Having weighed up all the pros and cons, I decided to choose something more useful. In total, I had three second-tier skills.
The first one was also the most useful in combat. I’d already had a chance to use it during my altercation with Tarzan and his goons in the park. I meant Sprint. It could accelerate the user 100% by modifying their Metabolism and Perception for the duration of 5 seconds. And if you counted my boosted Spirit, the effect would be even greater, making me 6 times faster for the duration of 15 seconds.
The second superskill on the list was Regeneration which accelerated Recovery and improved Confidence, Self-Control, Satisfaction, Vigor, Mood and Willpower. I dreaded to think what an enormous effect such fast recuperation might have on my physical stats and skills.
Admittedly, the third heroic skill wasn’t quite as useful in a city environment. I’m talking about Taming which greatly increased the user’s chances of taming any non-sentient creature and turning it into their pet.
So all things taken into account, my most pressing objective was making social status level 20, bringing all my main characteristics up to 20 and leveling Meditation up to 5. That would answer all the requirements for Sprint and Regeneration.
Last night’s workout had added another level to both my Agility and Stamina. But even though I’d received two more system levels to Perception during the course of the night, I still had my work cut out for me:
Philip “Phil” Panfilov
Age: 32
Current status: entrepreneur
Social status level: 19
Knowledge Seeker. Level: 13
Classes: Boxer, Empath. Level: 11
Divorced
Children: none
Achievements:
Altruist (+1 to all main characteristics at every level gained)
The Fastest Learner (10% to skill development rate)
Main characteristics:
Strength: 19
Agility: 12
Intellect: 20
Stamina: 16
Perception: 17
Charisma: 18
Luck: 14 (+19 pt. combined item bonus to Luck from the Lucky Ring of Veles, the Protective Red Wristband, and the ivory figurine of Netsuke Jurōjin)
I still had four more available system points, but I was saving them for any emergencies to invest into the least advanced characteristics. I also had two skill points I’d received with my two last levels. Although I’d set them aside until the end of the Optimization, I might use them to bring Meditation up to 5 to make sure it answered Regeneration requirements.
It was early morning. I had lots of things on my day’s agenda. I had lots of trivialities to deal with at work before I could take a few-days break in order to speed up my leveling. I also had several workouts to complete, including a trampoline club I’d signed up to hoping to improve my lagging Agility. I’d also joined an English class.
I also had another idea. I was only allowed one heroic skill per every ten social status levels. But what if I tried to lower the environmental safety index artificially, like I’d done once already when I’d defended Alik against Vazgen’s brothers?
I chuckled with satisfaction as I added a night raid across the city’s most criminal areas to my to-do list.
“Let’s see if I can’t dig up a few more problems for myself, hehe!”
My new superhero abilities were almost within reach, awakening the munchkin in me.
* * *
“I’m enveloped in a healing white light. It’s healing me. By inhaling it, I feel connected to the Divine Energy. I deserve being healed by the light. I can feel my body being cleansed...Haha! What a cretin!”
I collapsed to the floor, laughing like somebody possessed. All of my meditation session had just gone wrong as I’d realized the stupidity of what I’d been saying.
I’d just spent some time online researching meditation techniques. Finally, I’d had the skill opened and immediately plunged into action, using one of the Internet articles as guidance. I sat on the floor in the lotus position and tried to concentrate, silently contemplating the world within and without as I searched for the state of a perfectly clear mind devoid of thought, reasoning or fantasy.
My body refused to relax. My thoughts kept crowding my head, demanding any kind of action. What else could you expect? So many things were happening simultaneously about me and within me.
This had been my fastest and most productive leveling stint yet. My early-morning jog had turned into a two-hour half-marathon, bringing back the already-forgotten memories of an aching jaw, panting for breath and choking on my own lungs. Despite being a real challenge, it had the desired effect, giving me +2 to Stamina: I’d had to push myself past all limits in order for my interface to recalculate this the way it had done to Strength the day before yesterday.
Having dealt with all the trivial office problems, I went to the trampoline club. Fifteen minutes later, I had a new skill open:
You’ve activated a new skill: Trampoline Jumping.
Current level: 1
XP received: 200 (for learning the skill)
Once the workout was over, the system granted me 3 more points to Agility. It’s not for nothing it’s considered one of the best sports for developing coordination: once I’d added a few acrobatic moves to my routine, I’d leveled it up to 3.
I then ate three helpings of steak and veg in a restaurant next to the club and spent about an hour working on the book, allowing my body to recuperate. Although I hadn’t made a new level in Creative Writing, it was now very close to 9.
I’d been keeping tabs on Panchenko’s movements all day. He’d left the Ultrapak office in the morning and hadn’t been back yet. I was toying with the idea of phoning Vicky to find out what the hell was going on but then I thought better of it. Panchenko had spent most of the day somewhere in the suburbs. I had a funny feeling it wasn’t work that had brought him there. It must have been Mr. Ivanov who’d promptly reacted to some curious information about his commercial director’s activities and taken the necessary steps.
Once I’d felt strong enough to tackle new heights, I’d headed over to Ibrahim's gym. That was the coach who'd trained me for the boxing tournament. There, I’d spent an hour whacking a punch bag immediately followed by four sparring sessions, deliberately not giving myself a break.
The system had seemed to appreciate my efforts:
Your Stamina has improved!
+1 to Stamina
Current Stamina: 19
You’ve received 1000 pt. XP for successfully leveling up a main characteristic!
XP points left until the next social status level: 11340/20000.
So now that my Meditation was open, I was trying to level it up — but I couldn’t do it for the life of me. A quick brainstorm with Martha resulted in a few prompts about the way to clear one’s mind and concentrate on pure contemplation, but then I had to unsummon her in order not to get sidetracked by her shapely forms and doe eyes.
“I’m enveloped in a healing white light. It’s healing me. By inhaling it, I feel connected to the Divine Energy. I deserve being healed by the light. I can feel my body being cleansed...”
* * *
The same night, I walked down a busy street famous for its abundance of bars, cafes and restaurants.
I’d completed each and every task on my to-do list — all but one, that is. I’d leveled up my stats, I’d brought Meditation to level 3 and upped my English to 4 which roughly corresponded to Advanced level. Now I had less than 7,000 XP left until social status level 20.
I had only one unfinished task left on my list. So there I was, looking for trouble in order to artificially lower my environmental safety index.
With this in mind, I did the rounds of the local watering holes prepared to enter into a brawl with anyone as long as they started it themselves.
Still, most of the local crowd turned out to be quite friendly and pacific. Either they hadn’t yet reached a sufficiently aggressive stage or my athletic physique dampened their ardor to hassle me.
In the end, I’d broken one fight up, then fended off some lecherous drunk who’d been coming on too strong to a young girl — but in both cases, it hadn’t escalated to an actual fight.
I’d almost lost all hope when I finally came across the bustling colorful little forecourt of an Irish pub packed with soccer fans sporting their teams’ colors. I headed there only to heave a disappointed sigh: although they were all shouting at the top of their voices, our team had just won so everybody seemed to be in a good mood.
Still, I decided to go in just in case. Where else could you look for relatively safe problems if not in a pub buzzing like a beehive with excited sports fans?
It was so packed I couldn’t even elbow my way in. The amount of decibels produced by all the hollering way exceeded safe limits, drowning out the TV commentators’ voices. People continued to come and go, leaving the place for a smoke break, while I was looking for a spot.
Finally, I saw a free space at the bar.
Apologizing to some of the girl fans surrounding the bar, I squeezed myself in, climbed on a free stool and met the barman’s inquiring gaze.
“Just some flat water, please,” I said, then turned my attention to the room.
I didn’t have to look for long. Two stools down from me, I saw a beer-bellied guy in a wifebeater, drunk as a skunk. The system message over his head helpfully informed me that this was Alexey “The Boar” Gaschenkov. Even though I was no wuss anymore, he was head and shoulders above me.
His heavy unkind glare circled the room, seething with fury within. His aggression, adrenaline and testosterone were coming out of his ears. The man was looking for trouble. He didn’t give a shit in what form it came as long as he could let off steam.
He must have sensed my stare as he swung round. “What?”
“Nothing,” I averted my gaze. The guy wasn’t in a good mood, so I really didn’t feel like having a punch-up with him. I’d hate to use his bad day in my own interests. “Everything’s fine.”
“Fine my ass!” he growled. “For once those assholes have won, and I backed the opposition!”
I shrugged noncommittally. “Just one of those things, isn’t it?”
“What did you just say?” he moved closer to me, breathing stale alcohol in my face. “You got a problem with that?”
The guy seemed to be one of those who blame their bad luck on everybody else. Did he just want to vent on me? Very well. I decided to take the situation a step further and see where it might take me.
“No problem at all,” I smirked and added, copying his tone, “Why?”
My provocation worked. The guy leaned over toward me and shouted in my face over the noise of the TV and the whole pub,
“Your face doesn't sit well with me, that's why!” he slammed his beer mug down on the bar. “Let’s step outside!”
He didn’t seem to be fond of talking much before a brawl. I hurried to weigh up the situation and size up my potential opponent. Although for his thirty-five years of age the “Boar” was admittedly in a pretty poor shape, he was a typical endomorph, stocky and big-boned with large forearms. He was evidently powerful but equally as clumsy.
The next system message confirmed my deductions. The guy wasn’t an athlete. His Agility numbers were even less than mine; the only sport he was good at was the twenty-pint sprint.
And still his Strength was at 33. Not that it worried me after my bout with the super heavyweight Sledgehammer in the club.
“Leave it out, man. Why would you want to spoil your evening?” I said, just to give him the chance to back down.
He must have drawn his own conclusions, thinking that I’d chickened out. With a satisfied grin, he tousled my hair and gave me a hug, pressing me to his sweaty hairy shoulder. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Fancy a drink?”
“Your water,” the barman appeared next to us. “That’ll be a hundred rubles[12].”
“Take it away,” the guy ordered. “Bring us some vodka and write it up to him.”
