Chapter 16 - Schwarzmarkt

I awoke with a start. If one could accurately label what happened as waking at all. Whatever the case, I roused from some deeper unconsciousness to the present state of awareness that constituted my so-called existence.

At first I didn’t know where I was. It was dark and claustrophobic, the air so thick with smoke it stung my eyes groping for the light. I reached out in the unfamiliar space, knocking something off something else with a loud clatter.

Shiva.

Wait. Camel’s place. That’s right.

I took a deep breath, inhaling stale cigarette fumes, and ran my hands over the wall of the cramped room, feeling for the dial that would bring the light. At last I found it.

I was alone. I remembered that I fell asleep in Camel’s tube when the Cycle changed, but my eccentric companion was nowhere to be found. Just the detritus of his meager life.

A menu notification flashed in my vision.

[Refresh complete.

Essence restored.

Energy at full.]

I ran my fingers through my hair and found the bandage still wrapped around my head. I slowly removed it and examined it under the fluorescence. It was caked with dried blood, but when I felt around my skull I realized the wound was gone.

My coveralls were still in tatters. Obviously a refresh didn’t repair items or armor. Still - I felt renewed strength within me. I vaguely recalled that my last rest had not been so peaceful, but I could not place my finger on why. Yet another lacuna in my higher cognitive processes.

I looked around. Alone in Camel’s capsule. His rifle gone from the workbench. I couldn’t say if anything else was missing or out of place. I resisted the unusually strong urge to try and peek in the curious storage crates stacked in the corner.

Oh Shiva. My bag. Where is my bag!?

Frantic, I twisted around in the small space, trying to locate my precious belongings. It had been right beside me when I went under. Could Camel have… would he have…?

Oh. There it is. Somehow it was underneath the workbench. Camel must have moved it, because I saw a piece of square paper skewered to the top of the bundle’s fabric. I quickly grabbed the sack and removed the long wooden skewer, like something one would find at a food stall serving yakitori chicken hearts. On the piece of paper was a crude drawing of a rat.

What? Did I get played after all? Was Camel calling me a rat? Had he stolen my stuff as payback for some previous insult, or to score some easy drinking money?

Wait, no. I was getting paranoid. Get a grip. This rat… I recognized it. It was the logo for the Rathskeller. This was Camel’s way of letting me know where he went.

Sigh of relief.

I untied the bundle and counted the contents anyway.

100 Crystals. One revolver. One dagger. Everything in its right place. And what was that? There was something else stuffed inside of the bag. Not only had Camel not ripped me off, he actually left me something extra.

I reached in and pulled out a pad of soft material, which I unfolded. It was a t-shirt. A bright, white t-shirt. Turning it around, I saw the Reality Inc. corporate logo emblazoned and a gaudy catchphrase, ‘Living my best Second Life!(™)’

Ugh. Thanks? Not exactly inconspicuous, but it was a temporary solution to walking the streets topless. I slipped on the shirt and decided to check my inventory.

[EQUIPMENT

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

* ARMOR

* HELM: N/A

* BODY: BLACK COVERALLS - DAMAGED - 0/10 defense

* * PROMOTIONAL T-SHIRT (cosmetic)

* ARMS: N/A

* LEGS: BASIC FOOTWEAR (cosmetic)]

Damaged? I was afraid of that. Looking closer, the coveralls were still taking up 10 precious metabytes of storage, but offering me nil defense. I wondered if there was a way to repair armor. I also wondered how this shirt ended up in Camel’s possession.

I knew I had a lot I needed to do in this new Cycle. I had Crystals to burn. I had 5,000 Crypt to spend. I needed to solve my storage dilemma. And lastly, I needed to visit the Restoration Point. Removing much needed items from my inventory just to make room for Crypt was not sustainable, especially if I expected to chase bigger paydays. I wanted to visit the Repository, but felt the need to talk more with Camel and pick his brain.

I got ready and headed to the Rathskeller.

But when I arrived, Camel was nowhere to be seen. The place was packed, but he wasn’t at the bar. However, I did see a familiar face. The meticulous female bartender in the smart bowtie. Several Volunteers gave me the side-eye as I squeezed into a space at the long wooden bar, no doubt appraising my unusual shirt. I ignored them, waving for the bartender’s attention.

After she finished filling the glasses of a few others, she walked down to me, the same flawless smile on her face as before. I had to raise my voice over the throbbing music.

Hi. Do you remember me?

“Of course I do. I never forget a face. Although the hair is new.”

Wow. Wait, haven’t you seen a lot of people with this same face? I was under the impression it was pretty basic.

“I was being polite. I remember your ID.”

She nodded to the numbers permanently branded on my exposed wrist. She must have had some sort of eidetic memory. Probably was a bot after all.

Can I ask what your name is?

“Yes, of course you can ask,” she said before lapsing into intentional silence, her smile not wavering for a nanosecond.

What is your name?

She just smiled.

Right… I was looking for Camel. Have you seen him?

“Oh, sure. He’s watching the fight.”

Fight?

The bartender turned and looked toward the back of the building, as if that meant something to me. All I saw was the crush of bodies drinking and undulating to pulsing techno.

“Are you going to order something? If not, I have other customers I need to attend to. Might I recommend a special drink for the occasion?”

Occasion?

She winked at me. Or at least I thought she did.

What do you recommend?

“A mind eraser.”

I’m sorry?

“I recommend ordering a mind eraser. It’s a classic. 100 Crypt.”

100? I hadn’t planned on spending any money here, but the way she was looking at me made me feel there was something else going on. I nodded. She smiled, gave a slight bow, and turned away, returning soon with a drink that was black and bubbly. Not the usual pale blue stuff, which only cost you 10. I reluctantly paid.

I downed the strong drink and noticed something that looked like a poker chip stuck to the bottom of the empty glass. Lifting up the glass, I peeled off the token and turned it in my fingers. It had a faint iridescent glow. On one side was the familiar rat symbol. On the other, a deceased rat - upside down, eyes dramatically Xed out, tongue lolling.

I looked up at the bartender for an explanation but she was already off serving other Volunteers. My gaze swung back to the rear of the building. Hard to see through the crowds. Thought I’d better get a closer look.

I pushed back through the bodies and tables. The Round Table in the center was vacant despite a want for seats. Probably nobody dared sit there unless you were part of that elite group. I kept going, cutting through a busy dance floor.

“Hey, wanna dance?”

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Nice shirt ya gloopy nazz.”

I ignored the voices, pressing back to the far wall. There was a large complex jukebox of sorts, spinning tunes. We were apparently listening to something called Sonic Destroyer by X-101, or was it X-101 by Sonic Destroyer? I had no way of knowing if that song existed in the ‘real world’ or was just a product of the metaverse.

Also, an intimidating man in a trenchcoat with a braided beard, metal arm, submachine gun strapped across his chest, and a horned helmet sat on a tall stool, balancing a glowing red katana against a point on the floor.

I tentatively held up my token, and he bared two rows of golden teeth in response. He banged on the wall behind him with his metal fist and a glowing outline appeared. Soon, there was a door where moments before there had been none. I stepped through into a scene of impending violence, gripping my precious loot bag, suddenly questioning my second life choices.