“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE and a goblin!”
That’s better. The first time I told Yorka exactly what I wanted her to do when we talked with her tormentors, the only answer I got was ‘no’. She had closed in on herself like a baby bird that fell out of the nest, then stepped away from me, and we had walked back in dead silence.
I didn’t try to bargain or convince her. It was too soon for that. I would let her sink into her own fear, doubt, anger, and thoughts of the future, let her remember the humiliation she underwent, let her feel her bruised, swollen face. Based on where she had taken the hit, she hadn’t even tried to dodge — just accepted it. Smack. And the battered little pet runs off on more errands...
“You’re an asshole!” Yorka said again, not waiting for me to respond.
We still had about four hundred yards to go before we reached our Outskirts, which is what I had decided to call those hallways and cluxes. We could already see intersection 17 and the crowd of goblins waiting patiently. I was so used to thinking of them as goblins that they even seemed to look a little green.
I didn’t answer Yorka.
“A total asshole! Do you know what they’re gonna do to me? Do you? Look at my face!”
I still didn’t answer.
“Elb! Talk to me, goblin!”
I reluctantly opened my mouth:
“It’s up to you.”
“Let’s discuss it. Make some changes to your plan. Elb...”
I said nothing.
“Elb!”
I gazed thoughtfully at the intersection as we approached. The hallways were crowded past there, and it would be impossible for us to continue our conversation. We were still in what I referred to as ‘transit routes’ in my mental atlas. The locals had a simpler name for the hallways connecting the blocks and zones: roads or paths, depending on how wide and busy they were. It made sense.
In those terms, we had walked from hallway 17 to the hauling area mostly on a road, and a little ways on a path. It was easy to see the parallel, even though I still thought ‘transit route’ sounded better.
“Elb!” Yorka also realized we wouldn’t be able to keep talking once we hit the intersection. She sped up, turned around, and blocked my path. “Stop! Please!”
“It’s up to you,” I repeated. “Listen... you’d never be able to reason with them. No one can reason with those bastards.”
“I know! They’re disgusting. They get sick pleasure out of making people suffer.”
“No, that’s not why.”
“You should have heard the way they talked to me!”
“They like to feel powerful,” I admitted. “They like sensing your blind fear and knowing they can do anything with you and won’t suffer any consequences. You know, one of them might just push you up against the wall, rip off your shorts, and fuck you.”
“Hey!”
“What? Doesn’t stuff like that happen here all the time?”
“Not often... But...”
“None of them have fucked you yet for one very simple reason, Yorka.”
“Why?”
“These bastards are keenly aware of the line they can’t cross. They sense that they can’t demand that from you. Yet. But this line isn’t fixed. It’s always moving. Today they can’t, but it’ll just take a few more punches and their made-up interest increasing to an impractical number before they suggest you pay off part of your debt in a different way. They won’t even have to rape you — it’ll just be rough sex with a mentally broken victim.”
“Fuck off!”
“Fine.” I took a step forward, and my chest bumped into her outstretched palm.
“Wait!”
“I’m waiting.”
“You’re a fucking asshole! Goblin!”
“Are we standing and waiting, or walking?”
“Wait! Don’t move! Listen... how do you know all this?”
“I have no idea,” I smiled. “Memory’s blocked, remember?”
“So, why?”
“Why what?”
“You said I wouldn’t be able to reason with them. But not because they like making me suffer. Why, then?”
“You bring them profit,” I said to her, enunciating each word. “You’re a poor skinny sheep, and they shear you every day. Every day you make them richer. You’re their money maker. They can easily survive the loss of a screaming, terrified victim. They can always find a new whipping girl. But giving up a source of income like you... Believe me, Yorka, they have plenty of victims to torture.”
“I know.”
“But not very many who bring them goodies all the time. Every day! Think about it. They see you as a fantastic asset, so they’re not going to just let you go.”
“An asset... profit... Who are you?”
“I’m Elb the goblin. Well? Make your decision.”
“Maybe just a little differently... a little more gentle...”
“This is already too gentle. Listen... stop looking for loopholes. There are only two options. Only two! The first one is to leave everything as it is. Bring them a slightly dirty t-shirt and baseball cap. Don’t forget to get on your knees. And pull your shorts down a little. What if today is that special day?”
“Die!”
“The second option is you decide once and for all that you’re not a victim anymore. Then we go straight to them, and you tell them what I told you, loud and clear.”
“But why in the clux?”
“You’d rather go to their territory unprepared?” I smiled. “No way! It all needs to start in a public place. Somewhere with lots of inquisitive eyes. Where Mother can see... That’s what you call the system, right? Mother...”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Yorka nodded. Her answer was automatic, her mind obviously elsewhere. She was making the most important decision of her life — deciding how she would continue living. She only answered to buy herself time. “I call her that, too. Mother...”
“Hmm...”
“What? Think about it, Elb. She gave birth to you.”
“No. It stitched to me the first available limbs and threw me into a dead-end hallway in the Outskirts. Right into the dirt and shit.”
“Do you know why we call her Mother?”
“Why?”
“Because she feeds us, gives us water, looks after us. She’s the only reason there’s at least some form of order and rules around here instead of total chaos. She protects us.”
“Cuts off our arms,” I cut in.
“What kind of mother never punishes her child? But she’s always ready to forgive you if you get back on the right track. She always gives you a chance, even if you’re just a filthy worm. She’s our Mother. Maybe not the world’s best, but still our Mother.”
“I’m not convinced. So, Yorka the goblin... What’s your decision? Are we going to deal with this situation ourselves, or are you going to rely on Mother?”
“I should have smashed your head in, goblin! Back when you were lying at my feet, unconscious and covered in slime.”
“You missed your chance.” I smiled. I knew what her answer was going to be.
“We’ll do it in your way!” Her jaw tightened, and her brow furrowed. “Your way! Eat shit and die, Elb the goblin!”
“Same to you, Yorka the goblin.”
“Are you serious about the party?”
“Absolutely. Right now, even. One for all, and...” I looked at her expectantly.
She looked back, bewildered. “I have no idea what you want from me.”
“All for one,” I sighed. “You really are a goblin. Let’s go... We can grab whatever your Mother has for us to eat. Always the same thing, anyway.”
“She grants us food and water.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a religious fanatic.”
“Maybe I do believe. So what? If you went through what I went through, you might believe, too.”
“Cults always approach people at their lowest point,” I said. “When they’re alone and most vulnerable.”
“Shut up and die! It’s not like I think of her as a god!”
“That’s better.”
“How about we skip the water and briquettes? We already ate three times today. We could save two sol.”
“No way. We need energy. I don’t believe for a second that those hulks with clubs managed to build so much muscle eating nothing but three briquettes a day. They must feed them a ton. And train them. Then feed them again. That’s why they’re strong and fast.”
“All right then, we’ll eat. You ready?”
“Let’s go,” I nodded, and we moved towards intersection 17. “Hey, Yorka...”
“What?”
“How did you lose your arm?”
“Shut up.”
“Got it... Too soon to tell each other heartbreaking life stories yet?”
“Too soon. Die, goblin.”
“Okay. I can wait.”
* * *
The first part of my plan was simple, but genius: do nothing and just relax, stare at the high ceiling and think about mortality. Which is exactly what we did. We didn’t even talk. My stupid tiny goblin head had absorbed so much information that day that it needed a little break. The day wasn’t over, though, and the most interesting part was still to come.
Yorka was supposed to bring her tribute to hallway 9 — path 9, as the locals called it — at 20:17.
Exactly 20:17.
Why?
This wasn’t just some whim of theirs, no. 20:17 was the exact time when one of the system’s small domes traveled along path 9. After that, the next time it would show up in the side streets of the Outskirts was thirty-three minutes later. According to Yorka, that was ‘twilight’, when Mother couldn’t see us. When she said that in complete seriousness, I laughed so loud that about a hundred goblins and zombies turned to look.
Twilight, when Mother can’t see us...
Thirty-three minutes of being completely untouchable. What could you do to a young, frightened girl in thirty-three minutes? So many things. And you’d even have enough time to leave quietly and remain unnoticed by the system. The gang didn’t care if anyone else saw — and a gang was certainly what they were.
Go to path 9 and sort things out there? How stupid. Why? Let them come themselves.
That was the plan. We sat and waited.
What time is it?
Current time: 20:36.
“They’re not coming,” Yorka said for probably the eighth time.
“They’ll come,” I said calmly. “Let’s talk about something more important.”
“Oh? Is something more important than this?”
“Yes. Did you do your job today? The goblin job.”
“Yes.”
“Did the system send you a prompt?”
“It’s floating in front of my eyes. It’s bugging me. But it won’t go away until I answer it.”
“I have it, too,” I nodded, looking at Yorka through the green words.
A simple, concise prompt. Dry and emotionless.
Switch to Optimized Regular Labor? (ORL)
Switch to ORL / Stay at GBL.
“What did you say?”
“I wanted to ask you. Since we decided to form a party...”
“We’ll do that today,” I promised. “But let’s deal with our workloads first. Should we risk shedding our goblin skin to try being orcs? Again.”
“Let’s do it! Sol! Sol! Sol!”
“I like your battle cry, Yorka the goblin.” I stretched my lips in a knowing grin. “I really like it. Let’s switch to ORL.”
The interface reacted to my selection... with nothing. The prompt just disappeared.
Indignant, I navigated to the menu and checked my status.
Number: Eleven.
Rank: Nullform (volitional).
Current status: ORL. (three standard meals per day and standard water ration).
Fantastic. I raised an eyebrow at Yorka, who nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. We were orcs again. I theatrically ran a hand along my lower jaw, touching my teeth. Yorka broke down and laughed, realizing I was checking to see if my jaw was bigger and I had grown tusks. I had no idea what her memory conjured up, but the word ‘orc’ made me imagine hulking, muscular brutes with green skin, long black hair, and shiny white fangs. I wasn’t even close to that.
Any news about my job?
It hadn’t appeared yet. It would be assigned to me during the night.
“We’ll do our jobs together in the morning,” I said. “We’ll see what we get and then figure out which one to do first.”
I didn’t ask, I commanded. And Yorka nodded silently once again, acknowledging my leadership.
“There’s one other thing I wanted to ask,” I added, suddenly remembering. “It’s obvious that the system can punish us. Otherwise people wouldn’t look so scared when they look at the domes. As far as I can tell, they’re pretty severe punishments.”
“More than severe!” My new teammate shivered. “You can’t begin to imagine!”
“Why not? I have a wild imagination. I can imagine things that are scary even for me sometimes. But I’d like to know the details. What are the punishments?”
“Well... If you steal something and the system notices, you’ll have to return it, and you’ll be fined whatever sol you have.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Harsh. But what if I’m a worm? Let’s say I crawled up to somebody, real sneaky, and ate a nutrition briquette they left lying on a bench,” I improvised. “And I have nothing at all. What will they take from me? It’s not like they could take the food back out of my stomach...”
Details were important. I had to get every single detail about the system’s punishments.
“They won’t do anything to a worm,” Yorka shrugged. “Or to a zombie.”
“So, if I stole something, but I have nothing, the system would let me go.”
“As far as I know, yeah. But you have to understand that whoever you stole from will corner you down some dark path one day and... Offenses like that are not forgiven!”
“So, did you catch whoever offended you?”
Yorka scowled and turned away resentfully.
“That’s it,” I said. “There are plenty of punching bags. Some take stuff brazenly. Some prefer to steal. Everything makes sense. What about getting beat?”
“It’s pretty simple. If you beat someone up, they get sent to the medblock for examination. This is important.”
“Why?”
“If you damaged their arms or legs badly... Whether you broke a bone or cut them...”
“Then I didn’t hurt the goblin I beat up, but the system itself.” I understood, and looked down at my old arms. “The limbs don’t belong to us. We rent them from the system.”
“Exactly. The system will assess the damage and fine you for it. Anywhere from five sol to fifty. That’s if they end up having to amputate an arm or something.”
“And then they’ll give the victim a new arm?”
“Of course not. You paid your debt to the system.”
“That’s really bad...” I leaned back on the bench in surprise. “That’s some fucked-up shit... Do you realize what kind of power that gives brigades? They have money, so they’d have no problem sending a soldier with an axe to punish somebody. That’s a huge-ass loophole in the law! Imagine a bloodthirsty amputator coming at you with an axe and...”
“A what?”
“An amputator! Bloodthirsty! Never mind. Anyway, imagine him coming at you. He has two hundred sol to his name. He cuts off your arms and legs like they’re twigs. Right in front of the system’s eyes. Then pays two hundred sol and leaves. Is that how it works? The rich rule the world? Although I guess that’s true everywhere...”
“Are you crazy? You’ll die if your limbs get cut off! Even if you just lose one arm, it’d be a miracle if they manage to save you!” Yorka glanced at the stump of her right arm.
She had no right arm. I had no left arm. We completed one another... It was both funny and sad.
“Let’s imagine,” I nodded, slightly taking in the sails of my imagination. “One arm! He cuts off one arm, remembering to apply a tourniquet so you don’t bleed out. That seems pretty realistic.”
“That’s exactly how they do it,” Yorka said sadly.
“Do you mean...” I tensed up and looked at her stump again.
“No. It happened to me for a different reason. But it’s pretty common for some arrogant or reckless people to unexpectedly lose an arm or a leg. It’s best not to argue with the brigades. Ever. But you’re not exactly right, Elb. There is punishment. That’s why they cut off limbs in secret, when no one can see. If you give someone a serious beating, the system will punish you. You’ll be made a goblin, and they’ll cut off at least one limb — system’s choice. Maybe two. They’ll take all your money, and that’s not all. You’ll be banned from using ATMs for a year.”
“That’s much worse,” I admitted, mentally scrolling the list of punishments.
They take your money.
They take an arm. You’re practically a zombie. If the system takes two limbs, you’re an actual zombie.
Once you get made a goblin, get ready for GBL. Work for near nothing.
No access to ATMs was the most serious punishment. Nobody would be able to transfer you any money, and you wouldn’t be able to go to the medblock and ask for a new arm or leg.
Brutal. A brigade would have no problem feeding a soldier crippled by the system. They’d be well-nourished. But living a year without an arm... Or, god forbid, getting on bad terms with your brigade... You’d become a plain old, practically helpless zombie. I would never agree to do something like that.
“They might let you access the ATMs for good behavior and doing work,” Yorka added.
I laughed:
“So the rich still rule. And the punishment isn’t all that severe.”
“I’m not totally sure. But it’s always complicated,” Yorka shrugged. “They won’t let us cripple one another so easily. That’s why we call the system Mother.”
“Now the biggest question: Murder. What happens if you kill someone?”
“You’ll be turned into a worm,” she answered shortly. “And lose everything: your money, your work load, ATM access...”
“For how long?”
“It depends. I only know about the beginning. It depends on your level. Oh! And one more thing about worms — if you kill one, they’ll only cut off two of your limbs and you’ll lose ATM access for a year. If you kill a zombie or higher, they’ll make you a worm, and your time without ATM access varies. If you kill a zombie, six months without ATMs, a year if you kill an orc. Three years if you kill a halfling. I don’t know what happens next. That’s good though, isn’t it? Mother protects us.”
“Well...”
The increasing level of punishment made sense. The system’s choice was obvious. There was nothing positive about losing good laborers. But worms were disposable, what use were they? Zombies weren’t particularly productive either. But orcs and goblins... Maybe they couldn’t do a lot, but they still worked — cleaned, scrubbed, did the dirty work. Halflings were another caste, the backbone of the labor force, motivated workers. That’s why there was such a severe punishment for taking a halfling life. Well... Some things were clear now... And I understood just how important ATMs were here.
“Does the murderer’s rank matter?”
“What?”
“Like if I’m an orc and I kill an orc, I get it,” I explained. “But what if I’m a halfling and I kill a worm? Will they cut off my arms and take away my ATM access for a year too?”
“I heard about one time when a worm got killed by accident. And it really was an accident. The halfling involved just lost his money. But a worm is a worm, you know...”
“Right... Worms don’t thirst for life or justice. They’re just worms. Trample them whenever you feel like it.”
Yorka, who had only just straightened up, shrank back again. “She’s coming...”
I sighed.
“Hey, goblin! We had an agreement! Don’t be a coward!”
“I’m an orc!” Yorka snapped. “Shut up! And die! I’m scared...”
“That’s the whole point. Enjoy the fear,” I advised. “Feel yourself getting hotter, your heart beating, sweat beading...”
“Shut up!”
I tsked, and slipped my left hand under the table to check the elastic of my shorts. It was safe here — the large dome was practically above us. But still... I checked, just to be sure...
It was time to see who was approaching us, and what they wanted.
I looked, and grunted in understanding. Of course the bosses wouldn’t go searching for one stubborn goblin themselves. Nonsense! They’d send an errand boy. Or in our case, an errand girl. She was missing her left arm, limping, and looked angry.
I wondered how she would start the conversation — politely and casually?
The messenger stopped about seven steps from our table and pointed a finger at Yorka. Then she hissed what would have been an intimidating threat, if not for the note of uncertainty in her voice, as though it was her first time.
“You! With me, bitch!”
Well, at least she did it casually.
“Oh, that was cute,” I spluttered with laughter, shaking my head at this skinny scarecrow trying to look cool. She hadn’t lucked out in the looks department. I might have thought she was a man if not for the curves under her t-shirt and her long, matted hair.
The girl glanced at the ceiling before turning on me. “Shut up, freak! Shut up while you’re still in one piece! Not another word!” Another glance at the ceiling, she drew a finger across her throat. “Or you’ll be dead!”
“Fuck off, skank,” I said, keeping my tone disinterested. “You cheap lapdog. Go suffocate and die trying to get your tongue even further up your boss’s ass.”
“You...”
“I said, fuck off!” I half-stood and raised my voice. The girl wasn’t the only one who shuddered at the anger vibrating in my voice — Yorka flinched too, and a goblin at the table next to us fell off the bench.
There was silence... The girl froze with her mouth half-open. But then her self-preservation instinct kicked in. I could see in her eyes that the sight of this goblin with old arms didn’t pose a threat, but her subconscious was screaming ‘Shut up, shut up, you idiot! Don’t say anything! Turn around and leave!’ She wanted to leave, but orders were orders...
I had to help her. I sat back down and muttered without looking at her:
“Tell your boss that Ninety-One has more than paid off her debt! She owes you nothing anymore! Not a single sol! Tell that to all of your people, you hear me, girl? Ninety-One owes you nothing anymore! Now fuck off, you piece of shit!”
“How... How dare you...”
“Fuck off!”
That was enough. She lowered her eyes, turned around, and quickly walked away. To report.
“The show isn’t over yet.” I warned Yorka before she could open her mouth.
I was right. The girl took three steps and turned around. She looked at me, then at Yorka, then at the ceiling, then at Yorka again. Her words oozed malice as she promised:
“You’re dead, bitch! You’re dead! They’ll cut you into pieces! You’ll be nothing but a worm, bitch!”
Then she left for real. I gazed after her with as a broad a smile as I could muster, one that could be seen from everywhere, even from behind.
“We’re fucked. Now you’re fucked too.” Yorka said, with surprising calm.
She was burnt out emotionally. The worst part was over: she had been brave enough to say ‘enough!’, even if she did need my help doing it. That was the scariest part. Everything else, the potential beatings and injuries, were not nearly as scary.
“No way,” I said. “We’re not. We’re just gonna keep waiting.”
“Do you think they’ll show up?”
“How many people like you do they have? Goblins and orcs that bring them tribute, I mean.”
“Ten or so. They all gather in one place in the evenings. Usually path 9. It’s kind of silly... We stand in a line, give them what we got that day, get punched in the face, and promise to work harder tomorrow, wait for the merciful nod, and go our separate ways. All this without even looking at each other — because it’s shameful to look like a stinking cowardly goat that gives away everything they earn and can’t say ‘no’. How? How did they make me do that?! I didn’t even do anything wrong!”
“They sensed weakness in you,” I explained. “Found your weak point. A soft spot. And struck with a poisoned claw: threats, pressure, the right words that they knew would work flawlessly. At first you let them persuade you, then let them punch you. The next step would be opening your mouth or spreading your legs.”
“Fuck you! Die!”
“No joke, Yorka. That’s what would have happened. You’re a pretty girl. One day, one of them would demand...”
“Johnny,” Yorka interrupted, nodding slowly. “That’s right! He punched me. And he also hinted that if I didn’t bring them something fantastic tomorrow... I’d be in for a surprise that I might even enjoy...”
“That one, though,” I pointed towards where the evil messenger had gone. “She’s already been fucked. No other word for it. She was a victim, now she’s their slut. A spiteful henchman who only dreams of someone else getting shafted like she did. She just couldn’t wait to see you thrown down onto the dirty floor too. But the tables turned. You managed to show bravery and finally say ‘No! Enough!’“
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t stop me.”
“Yeah. I didn’t stop you from digging our grave. They’re coming. What should I do?”
“Just sit there,” I said.
“But what if we can’t come to a peaceful agreement?”
“Oh, we won’t,” I told her, one eye on the delegation coming towards us.
“You said there was a chance we could negotiate! Peacefully!”
“Yes. I said that.”
“And?”
“I hadn’t seen Johnny then.” I sighed sadly, looking at the man in question, who could have passed for a real orc if he had green skin.
“Shit! What are you saying?! We have to negotiate! We have to!”
“Calm down. He’s not the kind of person you can negotiate with. You can see from a mile off that he’s stupid, greedy, and far too proud. See how he puffs up and growls? He’d sooner lose profits than his own made-up reputation.”
“But what if we can? Elb!”
“I’ll give him a chance,” I shrugged. “Let him start talking first. We’ll know for sure once he opens his mouth.”
“Fucking hell...”
He approached us with long strides. With each step he took, I got more and more information. Light skinned. Huge. Both fat and muscular. A large belly stuck out from under his shirt, and his hands were like hams. Skin-tight shorts stretched over his fat legs. His head was too small for the rest of him. Eyes with an angry glint in them peered out from under a small, protruding forehead. His black hair stuck out in all directions, forming something like an unruly lion’s mane. His vicious, teeth-bearing grin matched the image of a lion. Like he was playing to his audience, playing the part of a huge, fierce predator. A black-maned lion by the name of Johnny. In a t-shirt, yellowish pants, and red sandals. His belly crushed a long-suffering belt with a plastic club swinging from it.
Four people followed in their leader’s wake: a woman and three men, all five or ten years younger than him. They had expectant grins on their faces, just waiting for the fun to begin. The messenger followed a few steps behind them. Of course she did. She was... Nothing, just a slave. Or a toy to use if there was no one prettier around.
Even before he got close to us, Johnny opened his mouth and roared furiously:
“You little bitch! Slimy useless scum! GET OVER HERE!” He jabbed one sausage finger down at his feet. “Right here, you fucking slut! GET OVER HERE! Bitch, you should be begging me not to smash your good-for-nothing brains in! No! Don’t walk — crawl, bitch! Crawl!” He opened his mouth even wider, and the flow of obscenities continued so fiercely that my jaw dropped slightly in surprise, carefully listening to his dirty oaths.
I was right. There was no way this would come to a peaceful conclusion — that was obvious. People like Johnny only understood one language: the language of force. So I just kept listening. I almost missed the moment when Yorka, who had been frozen in place, suddenly started to stand up slowly, like someone bewitched. I had to kick her under the table. She started, shuddered, and blinked, looking at me in shock.
I had been a little wrong about Johnny. Yes, he was dumb, greedy, and proud, but he also had a some strange natural talent that made me feel sick to my stomach. The sort of alluring fervor you see in holy men. But Johnny’s medium was threats and swearing, and that disgusting mix drew people in like moths to the flame, obeying and flying towards the deadly light.
I wondered if he would ever realize that.
It took another thirty seconds before he realized Yorka didn’t care what he said. She wouldn’t move. At first, his attention had all been focused on her. But then he realized she couldn’t have resisted without someone’s help, and he slowly turned his head to look at me. He jabbed a finger my way, just like the messenger had, then swallowed and cracked his neck. A fresh burst of obscenities was about to start... But I didn’t let him speak. Staying where I was, I made a mocking face and pointed my finger back at him. Only he was pointing at my forehead, and I pointed lower, asking with the same mocking grin:
“Hey, fatass. Is it really so tiny? Skin-tight shorts... Aren’t you embarrassed, walking around like that, showing off your tiny little Johnny? Don’t your shorts chafe your balls? Although you’re so ugly that I’m sure no one cares about anything else. Hey, goblins! Look at this guy! He’s a real freak! That black hair... Does he think it’s cool? Fuck! How are you so ugly? And your legs... They must weigh a ton each! How many earthquakes will the jiggling set off if I kick your ass? I bet my legs it’s at least three!”
The space around us was rapidly emptying out. Zombies, orcs, and goblins all moved away, unable to take their eyes off me. It wasn’t every day some moron signed his own death warrant. But at least it looked cool! So cool and exciting that even Johnny the Lion froze like a statue, jaw hanging open. He was dumbstruck. After all, no one ever, ever dared to...
I had expected a reaction, but he was really just standing there gaping like an idiot...
I ended up having to bang my hand on the table. Johnny shuddered. His eyes focused again, and he snapped his mouth shut. Then he started to turn purple. His face was brick-red in less than a second. He finally understood what I was saying. If anyone was wondering how badly he wanted to wring my neck... Well, that frantic desire was written right across his face.
“I... You... I’ll...”
“You and I?” I asked. “Get lost, you cow! I don’t date people as ugly as you!”
A tiny bleat of laughter sounded from somewhere in the room. Short, but so important. Everyone finally realized that Johnny the Lion was being mocked. And he, scary and strong, was standing there helpless. A stationary observation dome hovered right above us. The system was on alert. Mother was looking after her children, ready to punish anyone who broke her rules.
If Johnny was smarter and sharper-tongued, he might have been able to strike back verbally. But he had never been faced with mockery like this before. It was a new situation for him. A humiliating one. He was flustered, and couldn’t seem to get his thoughts together.
“You... I’ll...”
“Shut up!” My voice rang with steel, and Johnny stopped in mid-sentence.
I stood up and leaned forward a little. Gesturing at Yorka with my chin, I did my best to hammer every word like a nail into his tiny head.
“She’s a good person. She decided to just walk away. She’s paid her debt, the problem is solved. She convinced me, even. So, listen to me, Johnny, you fat fuck. I’ll give you and your gang one chance, and I recommend you take it. We’re even. Nobody owes anyone anything.”
“I’ll kill you...” The fat lion hissed.
Sure, whatever...
“You want me to keep going, pork sausage?” I asked, letting the steel fade from my tone. “Or have you finally figured out you can’t fight me with words? Fuck off!”
“I’ll mutilate you... Make you a worm... I’ll come find you every day and — ”
“Look at this, goblins! A talking tub of lard!” I shouted. “Praise decay for bringing lard to life!”
“I’m gonna...”
“Let’s go.” The woman grabbed Johnny by the shoulder. She was stately and tall, with eye-catching curves, and well-dressed, too. That must be who Yorka brought tribute to. The one she bumped into during a game challenge. Or so they say. She was definitely brighter than Johnny. Our eyes met, and she looked away first. She pulled harder on Johnny’s shoulder as he continued to mumbling at me, saying: “Let’s go! Later, Johnny! Later!”
It worked. Johnny turned around, with all the elegance of a hippo that had shit its stockings, and walked away. He was still trying to turn back to me, but the woman had his arm in a vice grip and wouldn’t let him. The others followed her. Who was the real leader of their gang? No, not the leader... The gray eminence behind the throne with a knockout chest. I noticed her glancing backwards and shouted:
“Don’t try anything with us! Or I’ll use my elven flower. Anyone who comes near us will suffer, mark my words! Anyone! Nobody messes with the elven flower!”
Johnny twisted fiercely, trying to break free. His companions stopped him and dragged him away. The woman cast one more thoughtful look in my direction. I would have bet my arms that everyone who heard me was wondering one thing: What’s this elven flower that goblin was talking about?
“Now we’re definitely fucked,” Yorka said emphatically and laughed out loud, slamming the table with her palm. “But I don’t regret it! At least for now. But I don’t regret it at all! What was that you called him? What a riot!”
She was twisted over with laughter. I couldn’t resist smiling either, and hope that we could resolve the situation peacefully rose in me again. If that girl has any influence over their leader... Although after what I said... But still, they can always pretend that the ballsy goblin will die soon — Johnny will strangle him with his own hands. He’s just waiting for the right moment so the system doesn’t see him...
“What are we going to do now?” Yorka asked me once she stopped laughing. “Kill each other ourselves? I’ll do you first!”
“We go about our lives as usual, that’s all.” I had my answer ready.
“Are you kidding me? This is war! We can’t even leave the clux — they could catch us on any path!”
“No, they can’t,” I disagreed. “We’re not idiots. Breathe, Yorka! Calm down! Everything’s gonna be all right!”
“Yeah, great, that makes me feel so much better. And what the hell was that you said about an elven flower? What’s that?”
“Quiet!” I hissed.
“What flower?”
“You saw it.”
“Are you crazy? That’s just some useless trash you found in a trash heap!”
“But they don’t know that,” I answered.
“So what? Do you think they believed a single word?”
“I have no idea. My job was to keep talking. I kept talking. Now it’s up to them whether they believe me or not.”
“And the elven flower... You... You...”
“Are we forming a party?”
“Yeah,” Yorka sighed. “Nothing left to lose.”
“The pose is pretty weird,” I admitted, approaching Yorka and putting my hand on her shoulder. She did the same thing. I raised my other hand and we froze in that strange pose, staring at the dome. We waited for about two minutes. Maybe the system was checking to see how serious these two goblins were.
Create permanent party: Eleven, Ninety-One?
Yes / No.
Emotionless and dry as usual. It was even a little insulting. Where was the fanfare and fireworks?
I selected ‘Yes’, of course. Yorka did, too. The green prompt disappeared, and new text appeared.
Group leader:
Eleven / Ninety-One.
I selected “Eleven”. Once Yorka picked me too, that would seal the deal. The prompt blinked, then disappeared. No other message appeared, and I checked the menu. I immediately noticed something new:
Status.
Physical Condition.
Finances.
Jobs.
Group.
I selected ‘Group’ and found a submenu:
Group status.
Group members.
I selected the second option first.
Group members:
Eleven. (ORL). Group Leader. Status: normal.
Ninety-One. (ORL). Group Member. Status: normal.
Everything was clear, and not particularly interesting. I clicked my line — no reaction. Then I clicked Yorka’s line, and the system asked if I wanted to make her a leader. There were only two options: leader or member. Okay, got it, thanks. What about group status?
Unavailable.
“Why is group status unavailable?” I asked Yorka, unwillingly taking my hand off her warm shoulder.
I didn’t expect an answer, but got one anyway:
“There aren’t enough of us,” she replied. “It’ll be different once there’s at least three of us. I don’t know what, exactly, but I heard that option activates. I’m a loner, though, so I don’t know much about groups.”
“You were a loner,” I corrected her. “Not anymore. So, what do you think? Should we head to the capsules and get some sleep?”
“Do you really think I can fall asleep? Are you joking?”
“I can.”
“You’re a weird goblin!”
“An orc. Orc sounds so much more dignified! Hmm... What perks do we get for forming a group?”
“Right now we get nothing. There’s only two of us. Well, almost nothing. You can accept a game challenge for me if I don’t accept it in time or something. When the countdown ends, the system will send the group leader a prompt. If they say no, the GC gets send back to the number lottery.”
“That’s not bad... You can play for me if I don’t know the game.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Only the leader gets the prompt. If I don’t accept it, you get the prompt. If you don’t accept in time, it goes back into the lottery.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Well, that’s life. We’re not in paradise.”
“You’re mistaken.” I looked at her. “Very mistaken.”
“Look around, goblin! Just look! Does this look like paradise to you?”
“It does,” I nodded. “Paradise isn’t some garden of golden fruit trees with quiet music coming down from the sky. If there’s a place like that, they’d never let us in, anyway. We build our own paradise. But we’ve had enough for today. Tomorrow is a beautiful new day...”
“Tomorrow they’ll end us...”
“They’ll definitely try,” I agreed. “But they won’t end us. They might cripple us — me in particular. And if they manage to do something terrible to me, then they’ll beat you up or punish you some other way to teach you a lesson. Then they’ll send you back to work. That’s why I told you to stay silent. If anything happens you can always say I was forcing you to go along. But...”
“But what?”
“But I won’t let them do anything bad to us,” I smiled serenely and stood up. “Let’s head to the capsules, bruise-eyed beauty!”
“Blue-eyed?”
“Bruise-eyed...”
“Fuck you! Die!”
“We’ll all die eventually. But I’ll be last! Now go to sleep.”