AT FIRST, WE HAD NO LUCK finding work. The Solar Flame Brigade offered us hauling again, which we weren’t interested in at all. When Yorka heard the caped halfling Morris calling out, she went towards him, pulling me along. I pulled her back. When she sat back down, I explained:
“We’re not going to work our fingers to the bone for a couple t-shirts and handkerchiefs. Never again!”
“Then why the hell are we here? We already proved that we’re hard-working goblins! Let’s show our faces again. They’ll give us a place! Maybe they’ll even feed us! Aren’t you hungry?”
“We’re not hauling again.” I snapped, staring at Yorka with false sternness. “Are you questioning the head goblin’s orders?”
“Pff! Blow up and die, goblin. Blow up and die!”
“You really have a way with words.” I smiled sincerely, got up, and headed towards Morris. “Let’s go.”
“Those are the same bodyguards, Elb. One of them is the guy you fought with.”
“I know. That’s why I waited — I wanted the latest bloody news to reach their ears. See the two with clubs staring at us? They already know who we are.”
“Well, all the more reason not to go over there! We’re goblin killers! We’re dangerous! They won’t even talk to us!”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I replied quietly. “Not a single peaceful goblin was killed today. They were disgusting, bloodsucking parasites. Nobody likes their kind. Plus, the brigade will be flattered that such tough and fearless people like us want to work for them. It’s in their best interest to have a fair, mutually beneficial relationship with us.”
“Why?”
“Because we know how to kill and aren’t afraid to.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Shh!” I ordered, and smiled at the big guy who had promised to make me a worm not so long ago. “Did you want something?”
“Yeah. You…”
“What about me?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to have a chat with your boss. Get lost!”
I had no plans to exchange pleasantries, never mind make peace with him.
“Morris!”
Morris turned around with such readiness that it was obvious he had noticed our approach from a distance, just assuming the expression of a slightly-overworked halfling. As soon as he noticed me (or, most likely, pretended to notice), his face lit up with extremely measured joy.
“Eleven! Ninety-One! Back for more work?”
“Depends on the job and the payment.” I came closer and extended a hand to him.
A second passed… Then another… And a third… And then my hand was finally gripped in a firm handshake. In front of everyone, one of the leaders of the Solar Flame shook hands with the goblin killer. Then he switched hands to shake Yorka’s left hand. It seemed like a standard formal greeting, but I knew it would send a wave of news across the Outskirts. That news would then transform into embellished rumors, and from there into hardly-credible gossip. But all these tales would contain the same grain of truth: Eleven and Ninety-One, Elb and Yorka, were close with the brigades, or maybe even working with one of them. And not just hauling for them.
What was in it for us?
Quite a lot. The local thugs would stop bullying us. Powerful people would try to learn more, probe into our affairs, even establish contact.
That would give us a ton of opportunities. I had no idea what kind, but that didn’t matter. The most important things was to get the wheels in motion and keep them going. Opportunities would arise in any case — we just had to make the right choices.
Morris didn’t let me down. He smiled broadly and reassured us:
“I wouldn’t make you haul, of course. I have something better for you. Interested?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. Yorka gladly nodded, too, even though she didn’t understand what was going on yet.
I knew she was surprised, even bewildered. We were involved in a triple murder, but no one was charging at us or twisting our arms... The bigshot halflings were even shaking hands with us! Us, the goblin killers! They should have pulled out torches and pitchforks and strung us up!
“Blow up and die…” whispered Yorka, clinging to my right arm. “Blow up and die, goblin! What the elf is going on?”
“Shh,” I whispered. “Just own it.”
“Easy for you to say!”
“You’ll get used to it,” I reassured her. “Let’s go.”
We set off again behind the lazily trudging goblins, who were in no hurry to start their hard, poorly-paid work.
WE WERE ASSIGNED to the easiest job imaginable — using stiff, long-handled brushes to scrub the traces of slime and mud left on the floor after the mechanisms were pulled from the walls. The mechanism were already out on a metal grate in the middle of the hall, and the halflings were bustling around them. We kept up with them, even though pushing the brush was fairly difficult with just one arm. It took us about an hour. Then we had an hour of rest before the second round of cleaning, which took us even less time.
While we were resting, we saw another plux attack. Three of them leaped out of the darkness at once. One was pretty big, about as long as my forearm, and the other two were smaller, but they all attacked equally fiercely. One took a serious hit from a club, but didn’t even try to fall back and hide — just kept attacking. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had any sense of self-preservation.
They looked like… Like four-legged headless chickens covered in small, hard scales. Not the slightest hint of a face, or even eyes. This headlessness made them scary — mysterious, even. Once they were killed and their lifeless carcasses thrown in a pile, I noticed curved needle-like fangs protruding from their slightly-open maws. They had some form of mouthparts, but they were on their abdomens, which explained why they aimed for the legs instead of going for the throat. They clung onto a leg with all four limbs, squeezing it with all their strength and clenching their muscles, turning into a disgusting, armored tumor on a human’s leg. They were impossible to remove without tearing your own flesh. While it hung on, the plux would stick its fangs into the victim’s flesh and start feasting on it.
I learned a lot from observing them. We would have to be extremely careful with those things — my glass blade probably couldn’t cut through their hides. If I pierced their scales with a precise stab, the plux would most likely twitch in pain, breaking the fragile blade. A heavy spiked club would be a much more reliable option.
Once we finished the second round of cleaning, we got our hard-earned rewards — a liter of water and two nutrition cubes each. After that, Morris personally handed each of us a t-shirt, shorts, a baseball cap, a handkerchief, and a crude belt bag with three large pockets. Two full sets of goblin equipment. Afterwards, he briefly mentioned that no one would mourn the loss of a parasite like Johnny the Lion. Said his death made the air in the Outskirts cleaner, and hinted that the Solar Flame Brigade was delighted to associate with people as determined as us. He didn’t say anything specific, though, just vague hints that I was wise enough to pick up on. Then we went our separate ways.
We took the shortest path back to our home clux. Yorka hopped along happily, gently patting her belt bag and the almost-full water bottle attached to it every other step.
“We’re rich, goblin! Blow up and die, we’re rich! Our bags are filled with new clothes and food! We have water! We have sol! Blow up and die! Our dreams are coming true, goblin!”
“We’re not even close to Dreamland yet.” I shook my head, rubbing my elbow and pondering the sensations. “But there’s a big, high-quality, military-grade backpack at the door there to welcome me.”
I felt no pain — the painkillers had done their job. But there was a new sensation inside my elbow joint, like there was something crawling around inside, examining, touching the sore spots lightly. Was that how the medicine worked? My elbow didn’t look any different — it was still swollen, purple, and ugly. I decided to trust in the power of medicine and not take my arm out of the sling for now.
We reached our familiar hallways without any trouble, walked into CLUX-17, and sat down at the nearest empty table. After a minute, people at the neighboring tables started to quietly move away.
There were so many different sides to our reputation as bloody murderers.
I wasn’t surprised. Fear and an urge to flee a potential threat or unfolding conflict are just manifestations of survival instinct. I was happy for these people — they demonstrated an enviable lust for life.
Suddenly, Yorka got jumpy and tense again. Had she ever been calm and relaxed in her life? Her constant nervous tension was so powerful that, if it were electricity, you could attach a couple wires to her temples and power all the lights in two whole hallways. Although, I couldn’t say I knew a lot of emotionless women. They seemed to always find a reason to worry.
What was it now?
I followed Yorka’s gaze as she tried to kick me discreetly under the table.
Three men were approaching us. Three halflings, to be exact. They were wearing jeans, t-shirts, and even long jackets — I have to get myself one of those, I thought. The hip-length jackets were made from some kind of rubberized fabric, and had lots of pockets and high collars that most certainly hid neatly-folded hoods. The sleeves reached mid-palm. The jackets didn’t seem to be lined, but given the ambient temperature around here, it was more than enough to stay comfortable. I really, really wanted one.
Each halfling had a belt with a bag attached. No colors or symbols hinted at a particular group. Was this an independent trio up against our duo?
I smiled reassuringly at Yorka and stared at the first of the three men. They were men, not boys — each well over forty. All three had intelligent eyes, and kept their hands in sight but still close to their belts. The second man stayed slightly behind, skillfully hiding something up the long sleeve of his jacket. He looked like a man who was always ready for trouble.
“Good afternoon, citizens.”
Now that was a polite way to start a conversation. Spoken like a true halfling. Or a civilized orc. Definitely not some filthy, savage, ignorant goblin.
“Good afternoon,” I replied. “How can we be of assistance?”
“We got a job from the system,” he said.
Then he paused.
I chose not to break the silence. The goblins around us tried to hide their tense curiosity, pretending to be fascinated by the freshly-cleaned tabletops. We cleaned them, and cleaned them well!
“In fact, it was a two-part job. The first part was to bring the corpses of the three murdered orcs to the nearest medblock, as fast as possible. We did it. Johnny made things a little… difficult, though.”
“He was a big one, for sure.” I nodded understandingly.
They would have had to bring the fresh bodies to the medblock fast. Their limbs were in good condition, so sure as shit they would be repurposed to serve another ‘newborn’. That guy would never know the fat paws he started his life with here once belonged to the deceased Johnny.
I wondered what would happen if I cut off someone’s arm — someone athletic, in good shape — took it to the medblock, and asked the system to replace my bad left arm. Would I instantly get torn to pieces? Or would the system just confiscate the nice arm?
But I was getting lost in thought. The halflings were waiting for my response, but I just smiled and said nothing. Yorka ran a grubby finger over the tabletop. Hey, goblin! I thought. Show some respect! We just cleaned that table!
“Then came the second part. Mother asked us to find the murderers of these three wayward children of hers.”
What? What did he just say?
‘Murderers of her wayward children’? Damn!
“Our Mother is kind and merciful, she loves each of us. And she bestows on each of us a unique fate and unique trials. Hail to our Mother!”
“Hail to our Mother!” The halfling behind him repeated, then looked at me.
I looked at Yorka — she had opened her mouth to repeat that stupid phrase. I looked back at the trio and said with a smile:
“Don’t wait on me, guys. I won’t be a part of that bullshit — Buddha forbids it. But it’s certainly a personal choice. Anyway, how can I help you gentlemen?”
The trio leader processed my answer, wincing and chewing at his lip in displeasure. In a strange gesture he carefully wiped the corners of his mouth with his index fingers and said:
“Mother wants us to find the murderers. And we’re more than happy to oblige.”
Happy to claim the reward, more like. Eager servant, my ass.
The system was looking for the murderers. It didn’t see the crime happen, so it hired a gang of wannabe detectives! That was bullshit.
“A few trustworthy zombies and goblins named you as the suspected murderers.”
“Named us?!” I raised my voice so it could be heard at the closest dozen or so tables. “Some goblins pointed at me and Yorka? Who?”
“That doesn’t matter…”
“Yes, it does! Who pointed at us? You know, I can point at people, too! You, for example!” I pointed a literal finger at him. “I think you’re the murderer! I’m a trustworthy goblin! I mean, a trustworthy orc. It doesn’t matter! So who’s spreading lies about us? Give us names! I mean, numbers!”
“I will not.”
His voice was cold and confident, radiating fearlessness and self-confidence. However, he subtly stepped back a little and turned his hips, ready to take a wide step to the side at any moment, avoiding a potential hit and giving way to the fighter standing behind him. And he was certainly a fighter. The one in charge of tactics, who had come up with a brilliant plan to help the leader avoid an attack.
I leaned forward to rest my right elbow on the table, and shifted slightly to the side so I could see the second man. I looked him over carefully and said:
“You’re too tense, man. It’s obvious you have something dangerous up your sleeve. You have to act natural. Don’t hide behind your boss’s back so much. He’s a big man. One day, he’ll be too slow to get out of the way and end up getting stabbed. And don’t stand in such a wide stance. You should be up on your dominant foot, barely touching the floor — but you know that. Anyway, you’d be better off keeping him behind you, let him talk from there.”
A long silence fell.
“Point taken.” He nodded shortly, eyes flashing with anxiety. He slowly moved out from behind his boss and stiffened. “Who are you?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Five-Fifty-Three.”
“I’m double ones, but they call me Elb.”
“I’m Wedge.”
“Listen, Wedge. Tell your boss to take his search for the murderers elsewhere. There are no murderers here.” I looked at the leader of the trio. “Just two work-weary goblins who want to sit and chat before we take showers and hit the sack. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” the bodyguard replied.
“Yes.” The leader agreed, regret in his voice. The only thing he understood was that there was no point in pressing us — we weren’t going to crack. And if we didn’t confess, there was no way they could complete their job.
What other options did he have?
Look for witnesses? There were no witnesses. Find fake witnesses? They would have had to be near the scene of the crime at the right time. I had no idea if the system had a lie detector it could use on the witnesses.
There must have been nuances I didn’t know about. Detective work couldn’t be that simple. But they definitely needed concrete evidence, since this justice system punished the guilty with dismemberment.
“There are no murderers here!” I repeated loudly, with a smile. “But I’m sure whoever killed Johnny and whatstheirnames did us all a big favor.”
“Mother condemns murder!” The lead detective said curtly. There was outright disapproval and disgust in his voice.
Of course this neat, tidy halfling thought I was disgusting — me, a filthy, vicious goblin.
“I’m asking you, Eleven, and you, Ninety-One. Did you commit the aforementioned triple murder? Mother is watching!”
This was no murder investigation — it was an inquisition! What did he expect me to do? Fall tearfully to my knees and confess everything? And that last part about Mother watching... I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a hot poker.
“You got your answer. There are no murderers here. Leave in peace, halfling!” I repeated, more harshly this time.
“Justice will prevail. Even in this world.” He said triumphantly as he left.
I wasn’t going to make it easy for him:
“Hey! Head Clown! Where did you get that jacket? What’d it cost?”
I didn’t get an answer, just a quick, sharp glance from the bodyguard. I met his eyes just as sharply, and the trio walked away. They hadn’t made it ten steps when their leader (I was already sick of him) turned around and proclaimed confidently:
“You can’t hide the truth forever!”
At that, Yorka stood up and burst out:
“Get lost! We told you, there are no murderers here! What part of that don’t you understand? Or maybe you’re the murderers, trying to shift the blame onto us?”
She was furious, finally laying bare her long-suppressed emotions. None of the three halflings dared to argue with her flame-spitting tongue. They had enough of a brain between them to understand it was useless, so they left in silence. Yorka plopped back down on the bench and snorted angrily. I should have given her a pat on the shoulder, but I was too busy watching my old friends — Tiger and Buxa — pass by. My eyes followed them automatically. They caught me staring, slowed down for a second, then hurried to hide in one of the spines. Looked like they had heard the news, too.
I turned to Yorka and suggested:
“Let’s hit the capsules a little early tonight.”
“Good idea!” She agreed. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“We have to be up at one in the morning.”
“Are you kidding? No? You’re serious? One in the morning? Hmm…”
I waited patiently, watching her thinking over the events of the day and slowly but steadily coming to a conclusion. It took her three minutes, after which she said firmly:
“We get up at one o’clock. That gives us a huge advantage — no griefers, no crowded hallways or job sites. We get our jobs done, and maybe even get a party job.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Whatever way you look at it, getting up early is the best way. We’ll get a few hours of sleep after lunch if we’re really exhausted.”
“Ten-four, goblin. Hey, Elb…”
“What?”
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
“This place…” I looked around the hall filled with zombies, goblins, orcs and a few small groups of halflings. “This is the Outskirts. What is there for us here? Tomorrow will be our last day in this place.”
“Are you serious?”
“Well, it’s my last day here, that’s for sure — barring something unpredictable. You can decide for yourself. Anyway, what do you have to lose by leaving?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Fine! I won’t ask you where we’re going — I don’t like bad news before bedtime. Don’t forget to take your painkillers and medicine. I’m gonna get some water and go to bed.”
“Wait for me. We’ll find two empty capsules close to each other.”
“We just have to make sure we wake up by one.”
“I’ll wake you up,” I promised with the malicious grin of a true goblin. “Abandon all hope of getting a good night’s sleep.”
“No rest for a goblin…”
“No rest, indeed.”
* * *
Balance: 11 sol.
I had skipped dinner and water in the evening to save a few sol, and I didn’t have to get my shots for a while still. But the system took rent for my slightly defective set of limbs, and I had spent three sol on personal hygiene.
Current time: 01:05.
Yorka crouched by her empty capsule, yawning and taking small sips from the bottle. I didn’t bother her — I wasn’t thirsty. I was busy working out my left arm, bending the elbow back and forth, slowly and carefully, inch by inch. I smiled contentedly. It was much easier to bend now, and I didn’t get the sensation of glass being ground up inside. The painkiller they had given me before I went to bed had also kicked in. It was surprisingly strong, but even despite that, I could tell my elbow was getting much better.
All of my limbs were starting to look much better. They weren’t any younger, but some of the age spots had disappeared, the limbs themselves were a little thicker, no longer skeletal. The fingernails were a healthy pink. The toenails were still far from it, but at least they weren’t black. It was easier to move my toes, my grip was stronger, and my knees no longer popped and cracked every time I moved. The left side of my lower back ached in the evenings, but that was something I could live with.
I couldn’t help but admit that the medicines and vitamins the system gave out worked perfectly.
If only I could bend my left arm. Then I’d be able to live and work hassle-free.
Automatically, I ran a hand over my smooth cheek. Yesterday I had decided my face was too stubbly, so I shaved it all off. I didn’t have to, though — there were plenty of bearded goblins and orcs, not to mention zombies and worms, whose faces were usually almost hidden under hair — but I decided to shave. A shaving pill cost two sol. Yes, a shaving pill. A gray pill the size of a huge coin, sold in vending machines. You had to take it into the shower and soak it in water, which would turn it into grayish-blue jelly. Then you slather the jelly wherever you wanted to shave. One pill wasn’t enough to shave your head, but it was more than enough for your face, armpits, and wherever else there was unwanted hair. After a minute, you’d just wash the jelly off along with the hair. That was it.
At the moment, I was a freshly-shaven orc who didn’t reek of sweat. Talk about personal growth!
I asked about haircuts, and was surprised at the answer. The system wouldn’t do it — you had to do it yourself or find a goblin with a pair of scissors to cut your hair as best he could. If you didn’t want to risk that, you could always buy two shaving pills and smear them on your foolish head.
I made sure that Yorka was fully awake and asked:
“What does the system want the half-asleep goblin to do today? What act of service does it require?”
“Damn, it’s surprisingly clean work.”
“Oh, let me guess — deliver twenty blocks from the port to receptacles A, B, С and D?”
“Yeah. You got the same job? I guess that makes sense, since we’re a party. Are you ready to start your day?”
“More or less.”
“Let’s move out, then. We’ll have breakfast on the way. How far do we have to go?”
“Pretty far, more than two miles. We go to intersection 17, then take path 12 to path 29, and that’ll bring us there. Almost an hour of walking.”
“We can do it in thirty minutes,” I disagreed. “Let’s move out.”
We headed down the quiet, deserted hallways. It was creepy, to be honest. I’d only been here a few days, but I was already used to the crowds, the yelling, the noisy eating, the laughing and crying... All the sounds that filled the Outskirts from morning to night. And now it was disturbingly quiet…
As we walked, I taught Yorka how to turn corners the right way. Most people walked right up to the corner and took a sharp turn to save time and energy. I made her stay far from the wall, turning smoothly. It took three or four steps more, but it might save her from being stabbed — this way made it easier to spot an ambush and react in time. My companion, as I had started to call her, was sleepy and annoyed — she hissed and snarled at me, but improved her technique more and more with each corner.
“There’s no one here.” Yorka said in surprise as we approached intersection 17. “Why is everyone asleep? Doing your job this early is way easier! You can sleep or walk or do whatever once you’re done!”
“Why did you sleep at night before you met me?” I answered her with a question.
“Well, nighttime is for sleeping…”
“There’s your answer.”
“Are you saying we’re the only ones doing this?”
“Of course we’re not. Trust me, there’s a lot of clever types who work at night, quietly and discreetly. They just don’t bother to tell anyone else to do it, or convince them of the benefits. Why bother? They came up with the idea themselves, or they stole it from someone else, and just don’t want to share.”
“I see. We’re not trying to convince anyone else, either. You don’t want to share, right?”
I shook my head. “There’s another reason. No good deed goes unpunished.”
“What do you mean?”
“It starts with telling some goblin about all the benefits of working at night, because you want to help him. He listens to you, probably yawns, and waves it off as nonsense. Then the funny part starts — you get going, and start trying to convince him you’re right instead of telling him to go fuck himself. Finally, you convince him. So he asks you to wake him up at night, bring him to the job site, and then he makes you help with the work. You do it, but he’s still not sure and wants to try again to be certain. The next day the whole thing repeats itself. You’re covered in dirt and sweat, barely able to finish your job and help the other guy, too. Only then does he reluctantly admit that there is something to it. He agrees to accept your offer if you wake him up every morning and help him with his job. But if you say you won’t wake him up and help him, suddenly you’re a lying son of a bitch!”
“You’re one pessimistic bastard!”
“I’m not pessimistic, I’m just being realistic. That’s why smart goblins like ourselves keep a low profile and do their job quietly. Since, after all, we walk alone at night with no witnesses. Who knows, maybe someone you shared your vision with will realize your sandals would fit him perfectly, and he jumps you around some dark corner?”
“Yeah, that’s how it goes in the Outskirts.”
Soon we were deep into unknown territory. Unknown to me, that is. I slowed down and kept Yorka from going too fast. Haste makes waste, goblin.
“I’ve been here before!” She tried to reassure me. “Many times. I’ll lead the way.”
I nodded in agreement, but still didn’t speed up. I had to look around.
This place was… different. The same hallways, paths and walkways, but at the same time everything was slightly different. It looked older. The metal walls were tarnished, the ceilings weren’t as high as in the hallways where we lived — almost three feet lower. The solid metal floor had grates spaced evenly throughout, and air streams surged up from underneath them. Each of the streams was surprisingly different. One was humming and warm, with the faint scent of dust and iron. Walking over it was pleasant, and I even took a moment to warm up. The second one blasted out a jet of ice-cold air that made us shiver. The next stream was weak, and carried the scent of something edible, but we couldn’t tell what it was. These hallways had more turns than ours, and there were strange bulges on the walls and ceiling. I couldn’t figure out what they were for. The heated wall ledges, so well-loved by us goblins and so good for warming tired bones, were nowhere to be seen.
“What’s taking you so long, goblin?” Yorka was losing her patience.
“This is a new environment for me,” I replied readily. “I have to learn every detail.”
“Well, take your time and learn, then, I guess.” Yorka pouted. She couldn’t wait to get to work.
“Feel free to ask me questions,” I said. “It’ll help pass the time.”
“Okay! So what exactly are you trying to learn about?”
“The surroundings, how this place is designed, every tiny detail. Traces of what used to be here but was torn down. And things that are new, that weren’t here when it was built.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Well, I see the same old hallways. There’s nothing out of the ordinary here.”
“See that?” I pointed at the rail passing over our heads, where the watcher domes would travel.
“Yeah. Mother’s Path.”
I winced and groaned. “Stop that!”
“Okay.”
“Just compare the rail to the walls and the floor! See? It was put up much later. There were no rails or domes here originally. But over there,” I pointed, “and there — we’ve passed ten spots like that already — there are stains and sealed holes on the wall right under the ceiling. There used to be some kind of equipment mounted there, and I’m almost sure that it was surveillance cameras.”
“So what? The system used to watch us on camera, then they mounted the rails and got the domes running. What does it matter? It’s still the same thing, just an upgrade! Progress!”
“You may be right,” I agreed. “But every tiny detail could prove useful. Look, over there, at the entrance to the next hall or whatever it is. Do you see that?”
“You mean those three marks on the doorway?”
“Yeah. That’s from a door, there used to be a door here. Going by the size and the number of fixtures, it was a pretty heavy one, too. There are sealed-up holes in the top and the bottom of the jamb. There was definitely a door here, Yorka. Look at the wall next to it — you can see where the door used to bang against the wall, that dent from the lock. A heavy, manually operated lever lock.”
“So? Oh…” She fell to thinking.
There were no doors in the hallways, job sites, and quarters back near our clux or in any part of the Outskirts I’d been to. No signs of former doors, either. The medblocks and food rooms had automatic doors, but they slid into the walls or the ceiling. The door at the entrance to this hall, however, had a manual lock, judging by the faint marks on the wall nearby. Whoever lived here long ago could open and close it, lock and unlock it freely.
Was that a minor detail?
No. It was crucial — I just had no way to use this information yet. The only thing I knew for sure was that it was a long, long time ago, and was there for a long time until someone changed everything, depriving the goblins of their right to open and close doors.
Something moved far ahead of us. It was a blurred movement, fast and quiet, right at a corner about a hundred yards from us. I halted and held out a hand behind me. Yorka, bumped into it and looked at me in surprise. She quickly figured out what was going on and had the sense not to talk, just mouthing, “What?”
I raised my hand, put a finger to my lips, and motioned for to her to copy me. I took off my sandals and tucked them into my belt bag, then moved closer to the wall and walked forward, treading softly on the cold and warm tiles of the steel floor, wincing each time my feet touched the metal grates. Each time I felt a pang of superstitious fear, imagining slender claws or fangs piercing my bare feet from below the grating, and the satisfied, guttural growl of a monster slurping and feasting on my blood. It was silly — and it wasn’t like the thin rubber of my sandals would’ve made a difference. But the way the grates seemed to breathe still unnerved me. I walked hesitantly, legs shaking, ready to spring away from the imaginary danger.
Was it really imaginary, though? I had already learned that the Outskirts were fraught with real dangers. I wasn’t about to dismiss my own groundless fears, but I also wasn’t going to let them distract me. I kept moving forward, leading Yorka along, eyes ahead but still watching my back every now and then.
When I reached the turn where I had seen movement, I paused for a moment, listening. Disappointment hit me — there were too many background noises, what with all the machines clanking, air streams hissing, and liquids gurgling… It was almost impossible to pick up the subtle sound of footsteps or breathing.
I peered around the corner. There was no one there.
The brightly lit hallway widened a little, stretching ahead of us. There were more grates on the floor, and on the walls, too. I noticed a few on the ceiling, and thought of Yorka’s bone-chilling stories about the unlucky bastards who got showered in acid, boiling water, or other harmful liquids. Those ceiling grates looked like something really bad could come pouring onto our heads from them. It didn’t even have to be liquid — a whistling jet of high-pressure steam from a leaky pipe would be enough to instantly turn us into boiled corpses.
I thought of the rubberized coats and jackets I’d seen the halflings wearing. They had hoods. If you got hit by a steam jet from above with one of those on, you’d still have a chance to jump back before you got burned. Life in the Outskirts wasn’t a video game, but your gear was still a major part of surviving here. I considered going back on my decision and staying for a while, if just to get Yorka and myself properly outfitted in the shortest amount of time.
As we made our cautious way around the next corner, I stopped abruptly. Yorka looked over my shoulder after almost bumping into me. I froze, staring with increasing surprise at the man walking determinedly down the hallway. Was he an orc or a goblin? He looked like something in between. He wore shorts, sneakers, a baseball cap, and a t-shirt that was too big for his skinny body — he was whip-thin and looked no older than twenty. But he moved freely, softly, silently and very… unusually.
He kept to the left wall and took five confident steps along it, brushing it with his fingers the whole time. Then he froze for a brief moment before taking ten more steps, moving rapidly away from us. He stopped again, tilting his head in an odd fashion, like he was listening for something. He kept moving, but when he got to one of the grates, he squatted and held his hand over the upcoming stream, leaning forward and… sniffing the air? Once he confirmed whatever he was trying to figure out, he got up, stood still for a minute, then continued on, reaching the turnoff to a narrow path in seven steps. His hand found the corner and he turned down the path after a brief glance back in our direction. I thought he would notice us and raise his head, revealing the face hidden by the brim of his hat. It would have been impossible for him not to notice us — we were only thirty steps away.
Surprisingly, he stared right at us with absolutely no emotion, then disappeared down the side passage. Only then did my brain processed what my eyes had seen — two nasty scars across his right cheekbone, all the way up to the brim of his hat. Scars that ran right through his…
Holy shit!
“Damn…” I whispered.
“Did you see that, Elb? His face…”
“He’s blind,” I replied quietly. “I mean, wow! That’s amazing.”
“You think it’s amazing, goblin? Blow up and die! The guy’s blind! He has to feel his way around! I wonder where he’s going.”
“To work, of course.” I said, moving forward again. “Where else would he be going?”
“But he’s blind!”
“What else is he supposed to do? That’s right, he’s blind. Those scars look like claw marks. Something nasty happened to him. What options does he have? Starve to death? Sell himself to afford food? Beg at intersections for slimy, half-eaten food cubes? Or, even worse, for someone’s thick, beef-flavored spit? Or a little delicious snot?”
“Yuck! Shut up, Elb, that’s gross!”
“Not so loud.”
“What are you even saying?”
“Just telling it like it is. He didn’t have much choice — either beg and slowly wither away, or adapt and stay independent.” I continued in a softer tone. “Don’t freak out, goblin! What I’m trying to say is he’s doing great. I mean, did you see how he moves around and finds his way?”
“Speaking of which… How does he even find his way without a stick? Isn’t he supposed to have, like, a white cane to tap the floor and the walls with?”
“He chose a different strategy. He has all his limbs. He moves without hesitating, and doesn’t make any mistakes, so he must know the route by heart. Hmm…”
“What?”
“I don’t think he’s completely blind.”
“What? Those scars went right through his eyes!”
“His eye.” I amended. “We couldn’t see the second one. I bet it’s still there, just badly damaged. But I’m sure it works at least a little.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The system messages,” I explained. After a moment, Yorka slowly nodded as understanding hit her. I added: “Unless they get sent straight to our brains.”
“I get it. The messages… He must be able to see them to get his daily jobs.”
The messages popped up in front of our eyes… At least as far as I could tell.
“It used to be a topic of some pretty heated arguments. Lots of yelling and fighting,” Yorka added, breathing on the back of my shoulder while I looked carefully around the next corner. “Screaming, bloody noses, faces hitting the tables! Goddamn goblins. They argued ‘til they were hoarse about whether your brain or your eyes get the messages. But that’s all settled now, and they don’t argue anymore. What do you think?”
“I think we should find a totally blind person. Like, someone without eyes at all. And ask him about the system interface. Then we’ll know.”
“Ugh…” Yorka shivered. “Mother save us! Anything but the eyes! I’d rather lose both my legs than my eyes! You’re right, though. There was this goblin who lost both his eyes, and he stopped getting system messages. He was a solid goblin, even made it to orc sometimes. But when he lost his eyes, he became a zombie almost immediately, and then eventually a worm. When he got his last limb cut off, he went crazy. He’d just lying on a bench all day long, laughing his head off. Then his laughs turned into weird gurgling sounds, and then he died. I didn’t see it — I did my best to stay away from that path so I didn’t have to see that blind, cackling stump of a man…”
“Interesting.” I stopped. “That’s really important information. Thank you.”
“Did you miss the part about the mad worm and how badly he suffered?”
“The past is gone for good.” I looked at my partner. “We can’t help him. The smart thing to do now is to forget about it. Look to the future, goblin, don’t look back! Figuratively, of course. You should look back when you’re in these dark hallways.”
“I get it. I’m not that dumb! Screw you and your figures of speech. Why’s that information so important, anyway?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “At least not yet. Shh! Get down!”
I pulled at her arm and crouched down, staring forward attentively.
We had reached a tiny intersection. It was like a roundabout, with a grated floor and three passages branching off of it. One was the one we had followed to get here, the second went up at a slight angle, with rivulets of water running down it into the central grating, and the third one looked just like the one we had used. The blind goblin took the third passage — so far, our routes lined up. However, it wasn’t the blind goblin that made me stop and crouch down. I was looking at the medium-sized wall grate. I thought I had caught a slight flicker of movement behind the bars, several shapes moving in the direction of the third passage, like something behind the wall was chasing the blind guy. Warm, damp air came out of the floor grate, forming a pale fog over the floor that hid us from sight. I looked at the wall grate above the haze for thirty seconds… A minute… Nothing. Not the slightest hint of movement in the darkness beyond the grate.
Almost silently, I whispered:
“Did you see something moving over there?”
“No,” Yorka shook her head. “What was it?”
“I don’t know…”
“Maybe it was just your imagination? The fog kind of swirls around here… And goes that way…”
“Maybe.”
The fog really was swirling all over the place in curly, quivering clouds, slowly being sucked into the wall grate. The whole intersection seemed like a living, breathing, moving creature. It would have been easy to start seeing things.
Fine…
“How much further?”
“Almost there!” Yorka answered, her cheerfulness back. “Let’s move! Thirty more steps, then we’ll turn to the left and we can get started on our night job.”
“Night shift,” I corrected her.
“What? What’s the difference?”
“That way it sounds way cooler.”
“Hell no, it doesn’t!”
“What do you know!”
“Pff! I’m not convinced, Elb the goblin. That still sounds pretty lame.”
Yorka’s estimate was right. In a few minutes we reached the biggest hall I’d ever seen. There were two rails on the ceiling with two domes that moved back and forth rapidly, occasionally disappearing into the hallways, then returning. I automatically noted that the system saw what happened in this hall all the time. It only took a few minutes to figure that out, since the domes moved impressively fast. The ceiling was low — that same old-fashioned design.
There was no one in the hall except us and the blind guy.
I didn’t know if he was completely blind. He was about forty steps away, but he didn’t hear us approaching — there were a lot of noises coming from all directions, masking the sound of our steps. The guy stood by a small platform in the middle of the hall, doing something with a piece of cloth. He had thrown the loose end around his neck and was tying knots, as far as I could tell. Yorka dragged me over to the same spot, so I assumed it was where we’d be starting our work.
Yorka muttered something under her breath, probably ‘blow up and die,’ knowing her, while I followed, looking around and studying every detail.
It was a huge hall with six routes in and out. The tunnel that brought us here was labeled 13. Three walls of the hall looked similar — tarnished metal, grates at regular intervals — but the fourth wall was… strange, even compared to all the other strange things I’d seen here. There were no grates, just rows of square holes covered with numbered metal hatches. Seven rows in total. Steep iron stairs led to the upper ones, and each row had a letter at either end. The highest one was A, then came B… Ah, shit, I thought. My poor knees… Our job had us working with the first letters of the alphabet.
“We’ll be sweating today,” Yorka sighed, then immediately reassured me. “Keep your chin up, goblin, we still have to wait for the hatch to open. It’s a hell of a job to lift them, though — they’re heavier than they look!”
That’s when the blind guy heard us. He stopped what he was doing, raised his head anxiously and moved a hand towards his belt bag. I took a step forward and said calmly:
“Hello there. Stay cool and keep working.”
He said nothing, just tilted his head to one side, pointing the brim of his hat toward us, contemplating. His lips were tight and his shoulders were tense. He didn’t let his guard down, not knowing whether to expect trouble or not.
I repeated:
“Stay cool. My partner and I aren’t going to bother you. If any griefers show up to mess with us, we’ll deal with them.”
“Hello. And thank you.” There was still some nervousness in his voice, but at least he moved his hand away from his bag. “Griefers don’t dare cause trouble around here.”
It wasn’t my words that reassured him. He was talking about the domes above us. At least one of them was watching all the time, and that’s what kept the griefers at bay. He was clearly thinking about the hallways. Finishing the job was just one part of the story — he also had to make it back to the safer tunnels.
“That’s great,” I said, and turned to the platform.
Hmm…
It was not so much a platform as a huge bulge made from large, curved metal plates. Three paces long, two paces wide, about six feet high. Sturdy, solid construction. The metal was welded tightly, but not well. It hadn’t been built too long ago — the metal looked bright and clean, much newer than the rest of the hall. A shelf, about a foot wide and six feet long, was attached to the steel hump. A half-inch of metal siding along the edge made it more of a tray than a shelf. Metal cubes lay on the tray.
These cubes were huge, with faces over a foot wide, and slightly rounded corners and edges. They looked like giant dice, except there were not markings on them other than a few scratches. I could tell right away that the cubes had been in use for many years. What were they used for? I had no idea, since there was nothing on them. Still, I was sure they were the blocks mentioned in today’s job description.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, looking somewhere between Yorka and the blind guy.
I waited for a response. One of three things would happen: both of them would answer, one of them would answer, or they would both ignore me. Sadly, it was the third option. Neither said anything — they were too busy. Yorka moved one of the blocks a little, wrapped her arm around it, and pulled it off the tray with significant effort. The blind guy was still fiddling with his cloth, which turned out to be three handkerchiefs tied together. He was making an intricate harness to help him carry the cubes. Working by feel, he wrapped a cube in a loop, pulled it, and lifted slightly… And the block hung in the harness, putting weight on his back and shoulders, but not his arms. He turned, striding silently and confidently towards the stairs. When he had almost reached the wall, he stretched out a hand, waving it in front of him until he grabbed the railing of the nearest staircase. He found the first step with his foot and began to climb.
Well, at least now I knew how he managed to survive and even keep his rented limbs, despite not being able to see. There was no secret to it — he was just smart, focused, and organized, and he thought ahead. These were priceless qualities.
“Grab a block, goblin!” Yorka panted as she carried her cube to the stairs. She grunted with the weight.
I began to dream even more fervently about a backpack. A backpack and one of those jackets!
I wondered why Yorka was grunting so loudly. Why were all her muscles engaged? Why was she leaning to one side?
I went to pick up a block...
And everything fell into place in an instant. The cubes were heavy. Like, really heavy. Each one had to weigh at least fifty pounds. I might have been able to carry one if I had two working arms — it wasn’t too far to the stairs, I could take breaks, and the hardest part was dragging them up the stairs. But carrying such an awkwardly-shaped object with just one arm… My ribs were going to learn the meaning of pain.
I didn’t complain. I watched the other two, copied their movements, and got the cube to the top level. I sat on the top step, panting, and started massaging my legs vigorously.
Muscles… stamina, strength… I recovered at a surprisingly fast pace. A lot was unfair in this place, but the food, water, and medicine certainly deserved some praise. The system was generous with the shots — my arms and legs were getting noticeably stronger, and all the hard work helped them along. The ‘vitamins’ must have had some kind of additive that sped up muscle growth. Once again, I wasn’t about to complain. I needed that strength, stamina, and speed. I would agree to a double dose of whatever it was, if it was safe to do so. I knew where to get it. All I needed was more sol to buy it — and I was going to earn those sol, starting today.
Job: Insert twenty blocks into the receptacles in rows A, B, С and D.
Description: Fully insert twenty blocks into the open receptacles in the specified rows.
Job location: Zone 1, Block 2.
Deadline: Evening end-of-work alarm.
Compensation: 15 sol.
The funniest part of today’s job was that there were at least twenty holes in each of our four assigned rows. At least half of them were open at the moment, and they weren’t going to close until the blocks were inside.
“Get up, goblin. Get up,” I said to myself.
I got up and grabbed my cube, dragged it to the nearest square hole, lifted it, carefully put it inside, and pushed gently. Something clicked, the hatch closed slowly, and it clicked again. The block count in my task log went down one. Easy. Easily said, at least. I still had to get back down the stairs, walk back to the metal bulge, grab another heavy cube, drag it back here, climb up the stairs, and put it in a hole…
Five rounds later I sat down to rest just above Yorka, who was sprawled out on the staircase. She was a few blocks ahead of me. We watched in silence as the guy in the baseball cap worked diligently. He was a machine of a man, a methodical robot. Everything he did was aimed at maximizing his efficiency, and he didn’t make a single mistake. By my count, he had already moved ten blocks, which was twice as many as I had. Even though he was blind, he worked faster than we did, and still remembered to scan his surroundings, occasionally freezing and turning his lowered head this way or that. He knew where Yorka and I were at any given moment. He had a computer for a head, constantly processing a huge amount of information.
I leaned toward Yorka and said quietly:
“We need this guy.”
“Huh?” She stared at me with genuine surprise. “Are you kidding me? Come on, goblin! I mean, yeah, we need more party members — I’ve been wanting to suggest that. But…”
“Shh.”
“Can’t we recruit someone healthy for a change? You have one arm. So do I. Now you want this blind dude. Who’s next? Someone with no legs? Or maybe a worm?”
“You know what, that’s a good idea! An undead party!”
“Elb!”
“Just breathe.”
“Yeah, I get it,” She mumbled even more quietly. “I feel bad for him, too. So I think we should take him on. But promise me our next recruit will be in mint condition!”
“You don’t get it, goblin,” I laughed. “Do you really think I’m inviting him to join us out of pity?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. Just look at him. He can’t see, but he works better than us. He didn’t sink to the bottom. Right now I’m trying to choose my words carefully, so I can make an offer he won’t just reject without a second thought.”
“Hmm… I didn’t think of that…”
“Let’s get back to work. He’s carrying his twelfth block already. I’ve only done five.”
“Okay,” Yorka sighed, bouncing upright like a spring. “Let’s see if we can keep up with him!”
We tried. We pushed ourselves at the end, but we were still hopelessly behind the blind guy. When he finished, Yorka still had six blocks left, and I had ten. To my relief, he didn’t hurry off, but decided to rest for a while. He sat down next to the steel bulge, tucked his chin into his chest, and went still. I wasn’t sure if he was asleep or just relaxing. Probably relaxing — it would be foolish of him to trust strangers, even with the domes constantly watching overhead. I wouldn’t risk sleeping here, outside the cozy metal sleeping capsules!
We pressed on and finished the job, doing the last block together. I checked the interface and breathed a sigh of relief. The jobs submenu was blank, which made me feel both glad and a little sad.
Balance: 26 sol.
That’s more like it.
If I could double that, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of losing a limb. It would be enough to get a new one — although I might still die of blood loss or shock while being dragged to the medblock. Dragged by my loyal friends, of course.
The bottom line was this: it was possible to thrive in the Outskirts as long as you were in a party. Working together, extra jobs, camaraderie. I had no doubt that’s how it was meant to be. Goblins were encouraged to form parties, units, and brigades. It was beneficial for the system — a well-motivated group could work many times more efficiently on shorter notice. The carrot and the stick. Nobody cared for the loners here, as far as I could tell. They were destined to exist as orcs, saving sol for a rainy day, occasionally buying clothes or other goodies.
I stood at the top of the staircase, gripping the steel railing, trying to catch my breath and fighting the urge to sit on a step. My legs were shaking, my lower back was aching again, my shoulder and arm were cramping from working them too hard. My arm had suffered the most — the biceps started shaking badly when I tried to flex it.
“Let’s wait a little while,” I said to my partner, assessing the condition of my arm.
Its condition was unacceptable. It was my lone working and fighting limb — it had to be able to do things without failing me. So I sat down and took a sip of water. Yorka sat next to me in obvious relief. We were exhausted. The work wasn’t incredibly hard, though, and we would have been fine if we were well-fed, rested, and healthy.
Anyway, what kind of job was that? Carrying metal cubes to holes in the wall… It made no sense. In fact, it seemed like made-up busy work to keep the goblins occupied and justify their pathetic lives. But it wasn’t.
From the top of the staircase I had a great view of the hall below. After studying it for a while, I noticed traces left by whatever bulky equipment once stood on the floor. It had all been dismantled.
The reason was obvious — it fell into total disrepair and was shut down. This resulted in a gap in the technological process that had to be filled.
Filled how?
Filled by goblins, of course. The broken equipment was dismantled, the hulls were scrapped, the steep metal stairs were set into the wall, and the ugly bulge of the dispenser, fitted with a tray, was set up in the middle of the hall. Then the system started giving out the first jobs to ‘insert blocks in the receptacles’.
This approach spoke volumes. But my attention was drawn to the blind guy at the moment. I noticed that he definitely wasn’t asleep. He was resting, at most, but that was really just a side effect of his activity. He was occasionally moving, flexing his fingers, counting something, and I realized he was refreshing his mental coordinates. He was going over a map of the tunnels in his mind, counting turns. His palm moved forward, and he counted on the fingers of the other hand. One, two, three… On the fourth ‘turn’, he turned his palm to the left and kept counting. One, two, three, four, another turn, and more counting. Then he clenched his hand, marking his destination point. After a brief pause, he started over to keep it fresh in his memory. He couldn’t make a single mistake, because that would ruin his coordinate system — and he wouldn’t notice it at first, making more and more wrong turns as he went.
I stretched and flexed my arm several times. It was working fine again. My muscles were recovering. I examined my knees and nodded approvingly. I poked Yorka, who had managed to doze off during the twenty minutes we had been sitting there.
“Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled sleepily, shifting her shoulder against the wall.
I wasn’t surprised — it was the middle of the night, after all. I decided to sit a little while longer and check my interface.
Job: Wipe markings. (Party).
Description: Procure sponges from chemical vat 14B (CLUX-17) and wipe the wall and floor markings in adjacent hallways 1 — 8.
Job location: Hallways 1 — 8 adjacent to CLUX-17.
Deadline: Evening end-of-work alarm.
Compensation: 20 sol.
Curious...
Wipe down dirty markings?
We had eight hallways to deal with, and they were all really long. I’m not a good runner, but twenty sol is twenty sol…
I looked at the blind guy, who was still sitting there, leaning forward to stretch his back. He looked like he was almost done memorizing his map and was ready to go. He was certainly a very determined type. That just made me want him to join our party even more.
I glanced around the hall and reached to poke the sleeping Yorka, but I suddenly caught a flash of bright orange out of the corner of my eye. What was that? I have to find it!
I looked in the middle of the hall. Nothing there. I ran my eyes over the floor below me and around the central bulge. Still nothing. I looked over the four entrances I could see from my position. Hold on... I thought back to the moment when I had seen that bright thing, at the entrance we came in through. Thick clouds of fog were rolling in through it, crawling along the floor like beaten dogs, gradually fading and condensing into water droplets. It was there, in the fog and darkness, that I noticed that orange... blob? Silhouette?
Yes. It was an unusual yet oddly familiar silhouette. I felt a pang of recognition that made me stand up and stared into the fog-shrouded passage. It felt like looking into the maw of a beast that was breathing heavily, ready to pounce.
Then a wave of air blew through and lifted the steam clouds, revealing…
There! A few steps back from the entrance, shrouded in steam, I saw the familiar silhouettes. They were tiny. Another one, larger, was behind them, but I could see it was bright carrot-orange, with dark spots. The steam thickened again, covering the creatures lurking at the entrance like a blanket.
Pluxes.
There were three small, dark pluxes, and one bigger one with bright orange skin. I assumed it was covered in scales, just like the other ones.
Fuck… Fuuuckk…
I tried to remember everything I knew about pluxes, every term I could use to describe them.
Pluxes. Scaly. Silent. Fast. Agile. Green-blooded.
Orange pluxes? Lurking? Quiet? Stalking?
I thought about the blurred movement I’d seen behind the wall grate in the steam-filled intersection on our way here. Had I seen a glimpse of orange behind the bars, followed by the smaller, darker shadows?
Am I overreacting? Am I imagining things and stretching facts? Pull yourself together, goblin. This is really important!
I closed my eyes, remembering our journey through the older, unfamiliar hallways. We had turned a corner where we almost caught up with the blind guy. We reached the intersection with the grates in the floor and walls. Water was running down one of the tunnels. Something caught my attention, I turned abruptly toward the wall with the grate and…
I was right! I hadn’t been imagining things. I did see an orange plux! That fact had been clawing at my mind — while we were working, I kept thinking back to that moment, trying to figure out what exactly I saw. That’s why I didn’t miss the orange flash in the thick, pale fog, as brief as it was. The things were motionless, which made it hard to notice them.
The orange plux was in the back, behind the rest of its pack.
I wondered what that meant. If it was the pack leader, it should have been ahead of the rest, but it took cover behind them in the fog and darkness. Or maybe it wasn’t the leader. Maybe it was just smart enough to understand that its bright scales gave its position away. Or was the color just a random mutation that had nothing to do with anything?
Still, it stayed behind the rest of the pack, which was crowded together. It seemed like it knew it was too bright. The pack was on the hunt, and I knew who their intended prey was.
The blind guy, who was already starting to stand up.
I had seen these pluxes back at the intersection, following him. They were stalking him silently, waiting for the right time and place to attack. That’s how smart predators hunted, pursuing their unsuspecting prey for hours. It was pure chance I had noticed them when they were passing by.
They waited patiently. Their hiding spot was a perfect place for an ambush, shrouded by fog and darkness. They had definitely noticed that their prey wasn’t alone — this behavior was unusual. All the pluxes I had seen before attacked without hesitation. As soon as the metal barrier was lowered, the pluxes charged forward, only to be smashed by the spiked club.
Damn… I ran through my list of facts about pluxes again and again, adding new ones.
Pluxes. Scaly. Armored. Silent. Fast. Agile. Green-blooded.
I stood up, took off my sandals, and started down the stairs, not waking Yorka. She was unarmed. What could she do against armored beasts? They would tear her apart with their sharp teeth and strong claws. I decided to leave her at the top of the stairs.
What else did I know about them?
I would have to split the list, since apparently there was more than one type.
Grayish-green pluxes. Scaly. Silent. Fast. Agile. Green-blooded.
Orange pluxes. Scaly? Silent. Fast? Agile? Green-blooded? Sneaky. Patient. Smart.
There was too much I didn’t know.
I went down the stairs and walked over to the blind guy, who was carefully folding the handkerchief he had been sitting on. Despite everything, he still kept up healthy habits. That was very wise of him.
He heard me coming and tensed up. His hand darted to his belt bag and snatched out a long, sharp awl. I froze a few paces away, surprised at his sudden aggression. He knew we were in the same hall, working side by side. Then he lowered his face as though looking at my feet, and I understood. Yorka and I had both been wearing our sandals before, and they made a characteristic sound as we walked. But now I approached him quietly. It would have been easy for him to think that it wasn’t one of us approaching, or that one of us had decided to rob the blind man.
“Wow,” I said approvingly, and glanced toward the fog-shrouded passageway. “Your reflexes are fantastic.”
“What do you want? Are you one of the pair who were working here?”
“Yeah, I’m one of them. My partner, Yorka — she’s sleeping up top. I’m Elb. My official number is Eleven, or Double Ones.”
“I’ve heard rumors about you. You killed Johnny. You and your friend,” he said evenly, drawing back a little and placing his back against the metal bulge. “Is your friend really sleeping, or is she sneaking up on me from behind?”
“I’m not here to kill you. As for Johnny, well… Rumors are just rumors.”
He didn’t buy it. “What do you want?”
That was understandable. I could imagine how he had suffered at the hands of people who didn’t give a damn about his disabilities, those who just wanted someone to taunt. I was sure he was kicked, punched, and pushed around. It wouldn’t be all that bad if it didn’t happen on a daily basis...
“What do I want? Well, first, let me tell you a short and very moving story.”
“Forget it. I’m not interested.”
“Do you have a death wish?” I said, surprised.
“Is that a threat?”
“Not to boast, but if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already. You seem like a smart guy, a reasonable guy, so think for yourself. Would I sneak up on you in the middle of a brightly-lit hall with that dome watching us all the time? It would’ve been much easier to just cut you down in the hallway.”
After a short pause, he nodded.
“You’re right. Well, Elb, what is it you wanted to tell me? Why do you think I have a death wish?”
“We’re about twenty-five steps away from the entrance to the passageway we came through. We were following you.”
“I know. I heard you. You walked part of the way without your sandals. I panicked,” he said, and froze again, his head bowed, lips pressed together. He was expecting a trick, a sudden attack.
“That passage is all foggy. And I haven’t seen a single dome over there.”
“It passes there once every two hours. That hallway is a death path.”
“It’s a what?”
“A death path.”
“Why do you call it that?”
“That’s the name given to hallways where domes rarely show up. We call them death paths, death roads, twilight paths, dark paths. One-way roads. Roads of no return. Many names. Haven’t you heard any of them?”
“No. I’m new here.”
“What’s in that tunnel?”
“Pluxes,” I said casually. “Three small ones, a little bigger than rats. And one big one, bright orange, so bright it hurts. I saw this little foursome earlier, behind the grates at the last intersection. They were following you. This might sound ridiculous, but I think they’re stalking you, waiting patiently for the right time and place, looking for a way to get into the hallway.”
“Pluxes…” He repeated, raising the brim of his cap.
I saw his face and winced involuntarily. Unlucky bastard.
The double scar divided his face into two unequal parts, running right through his eyes. His left eye socket was black and empty. The right eye seemed to be still there, but it was blank and badly damaged, with a deeply scarred eyelid.
“Can you see anything?”
“Out of the corner of my eye. Just shapes, moving shadows, and light.”
“Do you see the system messages?”
“Yeah. I see them clearly.”
“So you’re almost blind, but you press on, you survive.”
“I do my best.”
“I respect that,” I said briefly.
He paused.
“Thank you. So the pluxes are in that passage…”
“You don’t seem surprised. Why did you believe me?”
“I’ve been hearing them for several days. But I blamed it on fatigue and stress. I’m really afraid of going into debt and losing an arm. I can’t complete every job. I jump from GBL to ORL and back. But now I know I wasn’t hallucinating. I’ve heard the faint clicking of their claws. And… I know it sounds stupid… but I’ve had a really bad feeling, like something evil and alien is behind me, about to strike. I’ve felt it for three days now.”
“You’re compensating…” I nodded slowly and looked at the dangerous passage. Fog blocked it completely, but I was sure the pluxes were still there, waiting patiently.
“What are you talking about?”
“Losing your sight means you partially compensate for it with your other senses. Hearing, touch, memory. You’ve become much more sensitive.”
“Sounds about right. If the pluxes are still there,” he waved his hand in the right direction, “then we have to cross the hall and go through passageway 17-4.”
“Okay. I see it.”
“We go down that passageway, then take the third left. Then…”
“So what you mean is you know the way?”
“I do. I can get you through the tunnels.”
“Fantastic. I’ll go wake my partner up, and then we’ll retreat quickly but calmly. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds great.”
“Do you trust me now?”
“I do. You killed Johnny and his bitches. Everybody hated them. They say Yorka suffered the most. He was always bragging that he was going to screw her soon. He talked about it all the time. But he was the one who got screwed. You did the right thing.”
“Rumors are rumors,” I repeated. “I still don’t understand why you trust me.”
“People have started to fear you — you’re tough, killer goblins. But I haven’t heard of you extorting sol or stuff from anyone. I’ve heard that you work hard. I hear many things, you know.”
“I see. Let’s get moving.”
I took a step, then looked back…
…JUST IN TIME TO SEE the four pluxes leaping out from the fog. The three smaller ones were out in front, closing in fast. The orange one stayed behind, but it was getting closer, too.
“It’s too late!” I said, pulling my glass blade out of my sling. “Turn around! Listen!”
“I hear them… Their claws!” His voice trembled with fear, but he didn’t run. He crouched slightly, holding his awl out in front of him.
He didn’t beg me to save or protect him. He just stood still and waited for the fight, biting his lip. He wasn’t going to give up his life without a struggle.
Suddenly, the short, pulsating wail of a siren filled the hall. Blinking red lights flashed on the watcher dome — the system had detected the pluxes and sounded the alarm. But this big fucking light show was pointless now.
The three running pluxes split up. Two bounded towards me, and one went for the blind guy. A moment before they separated, the orange plux behind them did something — I couldn’t tell what. Something on its body moved in the place where normal creatures would have a neck. The regular dark pluxes didn’t have anything there except flat, scaly skin. But the bright one had something… something like a growth.
“Plux coming at you!” I yelled. “Ten steps away! Nine!”
“Got it!”
“Elb!” Came a frightened yell from above.
“Stay there!” I barked and, clenching my teeth, jumped forward. I knew it would hurt. A lot.
I landed and took a huge step. A blurred shape leaped onto me and I felt a horrific pain in my left shin that made me want to arch my back, collapse, and writhe on the floor. I growled through clenched teeth. The other plux leaped, grabbing at my other leg. Suddenly, the dark veil of pain lifted from my eyes and my vision cleared. Dragging the attached pluxes along, trying not to look down, screaming in excruciating pain, I managed to take two steps and fall forward with my knife held out in front of me. The pain was tearing me into wriggling, screeching pieces. I wondered if I even still had legs. But I kept my eyes on my target.
I stabbed.
With a squelching sound, the glass shard embedded itself up to the handle in that spot I had noticed before. I hardly felt any resistance. The orange creature tumbled to the floor, legs splayed. I pulled out the glass blade, crouched and almost blindly stabbed at its leg. The blade scratched at the scaly hide, but couldn’t pierce it. Once more! I was about to pass out from the unbearable pain. I realized I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Stab it, goblin! Stab it! The blade slipped again, almost breaking.
A deafening yell rang out, and I saw Yorka standing above me, her face twisted with rage. She swung her arm and the heavy metal block she was holding hit the ugly, scaly tumor that was the plux’s body with all its weight.
Splat!
The creature unclenched its limbs and released my leg, opening its maw, stained with my blood, twisting in pain, and gnashing its teeth. It had been squashed, and was writhing in agony. However, the second plux was still tearing at my other leg. Then it suddenly lost its grip on my leg and fell to the floor, paralyzed. I threw the blade aside, tucked my legs under me, picked up the block with two hands — ignoring the protests from my bad elbow — and brought it down on the monster. Then I lifted the cube and smashed the plux again. Adrenaline was rushing through me, and I didn’t even notice the weight of the steel cube. I lifted it a third time and finished off the second plux. Then I glanced at the motionless orange plux, got up, and rushed to help the blind guy. He was curled up on the bloodied floor next to the feebly-twitching plux with an awl in its flank. Yorka ran up to it and pulled the awl out. I finished that one off with the cube, too, splattering thick green blood across the floor.
Then I groaned and fell to my knees.
“Oh, shit! Oh, shit!”
“Elb! Elb!”
“I’m fine, it’s okay...”
“You think this is okay?! Your legs are torn to shreds!”
“How’s the other guy? Go check on him!”
“No!” Yorka snapped. She took off her handkerchief and twisted it into a tourniquet, holding one end between her knees. “We’re a party. I’m helping you first!”
It was pointless to argue. I was slowly coming to my senses, watching helplessly as she applied the tourniquet below my knee, using her teeth and knees to tighten it. Then she did something clever with the awl to tighten it even more. She helped me take off my sling so I could help her bandage the other leg. I looked down at my wounds. Most of them were claw marks, and I shuddered to think of the potential for infection. Two of them were deep lacerations down to the bone, with perforated edges. That was where their jaws had torn into my flesh.
I struggled to my feet and inched towards the blind guy. My legs could barely hold me up. The bleeding had stopped, but I had to get to a medblock as soon as possible. I asked Yorka once again:
“Go check on the other guy!”
“Fine.”
I picked up the slippery blade, covered in greenish-yellow blood. Only then did I notice a slash on my palm — after that last attack, my hand had slipped off the handle and the blade cut deep into my skin. I shrugged it off. Just a scratch.
I staggered over to the limp body of the orange plux, bent over and picked it up by a leg. With a groan, I stood straight and went to grab the second one, automatically looking up at the ceiling. A dome hovered above me, silent and motionless. The system was watching closely. The second dome moved swiftly around the perimeter of the hall, but the red lights and the alarm had been turned off.
“Elb! He doesn’t look good! His stomach is punctured!”
I hissed angrily. “Shit!”
“His hands are slashed, too, but nothing serious. His stomach, though… We won’t be able to bandage it!”
“His t-shirt! Roll it up and put it on the wound! And help me get him on my back!”
“That’s bullshit, goblin! You can’t carry him!”
“Less talking, more doing, partner!”
“You’re an idiot, goblin! A stupid moron! Blow up and die!”
“And don’t forget to take the plux corpses. All of them!”
“Here!”
A huge weight bent my aching neck. The guy may have been skinny, but he was heavy. I heard my back crack loudly, and could only hope I wouldn’t collapse right away. Hold on, goblin, hold on, you son of a bitch! Move your ass!
I hobbled forward. Each step sent waves of pain through my knees, but I kept running as best I could.
“The pluxes. Don’t forget the pluxes!” I croaked.
Green lines appeared before my eyes. The system was trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t risk reading the message. If I got distracted and raised my eyes from the floor below my feet, I would collapse and never get up.
Go, goblin, go!
Everything after that was a blur.
Yorka screamed and shoved me around until I was pointing in the right direction, swearing, yelling, and crying. I heard the blind guy hanging onto my back mumbling. The walls and the floor were dancing around, moving towards and away from me. I staggered, I stumbled, I felt nauseous. There was something in my blood. Those things had injected it into me. I knew I was going to pass out.
The door opened and I saw a familiar steel chair. I turned around and dropped my burden onto it like a sack of mulch. Yorka helped him get settled in the chair, then grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the hallway, knocking a curious onlooker off his feet. She dragged me to the next medblock, turned me around, and pushed me solidly in the chest. I dropped into the chair.
I saw a blinding flash before darkness enveloped me and my mind went blank.