Chapter 2

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"N-o-o...." My "no" is clearly not as firm as I'd like it to be. "Good day."

"Are you in a hurry?" A very tactless question, considering that he is not my friend, not a relative, and not even a good acquaintance.

"I was going to..." I didn't want to say that I was looking for a job, so I decided to say that I was going to go to the store but they wouldn't let me finish, interrupting me unceremoniously.

"I heard you were looking for a job?" This was on the verge of being outright rude but after looking at the housekeeper again, I didn't dare argue with him or accuse him of insolence. There was something about his posture that made me feel no desire to contradict him.

"Yes, I do." I managed to cope with the oncoming and somewhat irrational fear of him. I used an old but effective trick. I imagined that I was holding a trusty railgun and that I was looking at my interlocutor through a sniper scope. But why I told him the truth and not a prepared lie about the products, I do not know myself. And anyway, how did he find out about my search, from whom did he "hear", if I did not share my plans with anyone?

"You're kind of a computer guy, aren't you?" This time he explained how he knew about my "talents". "I've seen your ads."

"I know a little bit..." Why am I such a macho and confident guy online but in reality I bleat something like a frightened young lady?

"Do you work with the networks?"

"I do."

"Are you familiar with touchscreens and their basic interfaces?"

"I've fixed tablets, I know how to change the operating system or get a root..."

"How about working for me?" Before I had time to think about it, he continued: "I don't pay much, but if we get together, you'll only have to pay rent plus free food."

"And what is the job?"

"Uh..." The house manager thought for a moment, and then he took me under the elbow. "Let's go. It's easier to show than to explain," he said, pulling me out of the doorway and, without bothering to agree with me, shutting the door and dragging me to the stairs.

"What if I didn't have my keys with me?!" I obediently followed him, sluggishly resenting such violence.

"I have keys to all the apartments." I could have guessed, though. But the ease with which he ignored my indignant tone was unpleasant. "Did you see us renovating the first floor?"

"Yes." It was hard not to notice: the whole time I lived here, the first floor of the building was covered with scaffolding, and some intensive work was going on inside.

"The interior is finished. Tomorrow they'll hang the sign, and we can open it." I didn't understand what he was talking about at all. "But then I thought... a lot of people would be confused, and I wouldn't want that." What's he talking about?! "And then I remembered that just a few months ago I rented my apartment to a computer nerd who had stuck his nose out of the room a dozen times during his entire stay. Besides, he needed a job!" He stopped and, squinting suspiciously, peered at me through his thick bangs. "Incredible coincidence... Isn't it?"

"Uh... Yes?!" What was I supposed to say? Especially since this guy was irrationally frightening as if he had an aura that overpowered the will of others.

"Sometimes it happens... Yes... When a random encounter does good for everyone. I hope that's our case."

Is he waiting for my answer? Or was that a rhetorical question? While I was trying to figure out what to say and whether or not to answer we were already down on the first floor.

"I hope you'll be able to deal with the problem. It's not that it's very complicated, but as it turns out, I'm the only one who can handle it, and I have enough to do..." he passed his palm over his head, apparently gesturing to his own workload.

"With what - it?" I was starting to get angry that I was acting like a rabbit in front of a boa constrictor, and this anger at myself gave me some strength and determination.

"We're opening our own restaurant... Well... like a restaurant, more like a diner... Bar, fast food, specialty cuisine. Nothing that needs your help yet, is there?"

"I'm a terrible cook," I warned my possible employer at once.

"I don't doubt it... But the problem isn't the cook, it's that I was a little overzealous in ordering the equipment." We came to an inconspicuous double door, and he opened it wide. "Just that.." He made a broad gesture with his hand, obviously not thinking that his back was blocking me and I could not see anything.

I walked around the shapeless figure in the robe and looked around the place. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary restaurant, with a kitchen in the hall. As was the custom in many of Avalon's establishments. A tall bar, apparently made of yew, seemed to divide the room into two unequal parts, separating the hall for visitors from, so to speak, the "production" part. The walls were decorated in the once-popular but rather gloomy style of shadowy allusions. The walls are hung with photographs and various paintings made on glass, but each one is covered with thin translucent paper. The paper is dimly illuminated by low-power LEDs on the side of the image. I'm far from a fan of this style, but I can't help but admit that a man of taste has done some work here. The general dynamic lighting of the hall is well done, and the play of shadows in the room is not disturbing... I usually dislike places in such a style, but this time this was not the case.

The rather large room was blatantly misused. Such a hall could easily hold more than twenty regular tables for four people. Here there were only eight massive tables with a metallic sheen. Each of them had two leather sofas with very high backs for three people instead of chairs. It seemed that whoever designed it wanted to create the illusion of privacy. Thanks to the backs of the sofas, a "separate" area was created around each table. And the furniture was placed in such a way that visitors if any, could see the bar from any place but could not see who was sitting at other tables. I wonder what kind of craftsman did this? I once had a passion for mathematical models of rock gardens, and I have a rough idea that arranging everything like that is no easy task.

I was about to pay a compliment, to say something like "cozy," and yet I wondered what the job was here for me. Suddenly I saw something that was supposed to catch my eye right away. The tables for visitors...

I even rubbed my eyes, not believing what I was seeing.

Then he came close and ran the hand over the glass surface.

No, I wasn't dreaming.

This place is equipped with touch screens with a smart interface! I was shocked because I read about such equipment about a month ago. As far as I can remember, there were only two restaurants in the world that belonged to one of the major hotel networks that were equipped with such ultramodern stuffing!

And then I see exactly the same thing in some run-of-the-mill diner in the seediest neighborhood of New Geneva. I have no idea how much each of these tables costs. No less than a middle-class car, that's for sure. One solid, unbreakable touch screen on the entire surface, which is roughly one and a half meters by eighty centimeters, already adds up to five figures. And judging by the fact that the working area of the bar is also a touchscreen, then these tables are not just standing here, but connected to a single service network. Does all this really work? Realistically?! If it is, it's just not possible! Even if you forget about the price of the equipment, it still doesn't add up. In the article that I read, it was said that the orders from the manufacturer were scheduled for one year in advance. There is no way that such a set of "e-restaurant" could be here, in this, as it seems to me, not the right place for it.

Two questions: with what money and what Tartarus in general! What am I being dragged into?

"I've installed the network here, set everything up," the housekeeper says behind my back as if it's something mundane, not the hardest work with the newest equipment that few people are familiar with. "But you need to score the menu, install plug-ins, download games, and help here on the little things... The first time to help the customers in mastering all this, or I think. I think for the local contingent such modern games will be unfamiliar at first."

If he's talking about local delinquents and people living on welfare, which is what makes up the bulk of the population in this neighborhood, I think he's even downplaying the size of the problem. And anyway, what kind of food prices would have to be here to recoup the cost?! Ah... Although... Were those fantastic costs? I don't think anyone officially bought it all. I bet a franc against my entire future salary that this equipment was stolen and probably got to the local owner for a mere pittance. What I do know is that it's none of my business how or where everything was bought. Life in port cities like New Geneva or my hometown, Kitezh, quickly taught me to mind my own business.

"Will you do it?"

Stolen or not stolen? Who cares?! Especially since this job is certainly more interesting than running around with a mailbag.

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"If we agree on a salary." No matter how shy and modest I am, as soon as finances are involved, all my modesty magically evaporates.

The housekeeper silently held out his hand to the surface of the table, with one click called up a calculator program, and typed in an amount. It wasn't much more than what the post office promised to pay, but with the promised discount on housing and free meals, it was still a much better deal. Nevertheless, I was not going to accept it right away. Without making a sound, I added five hundred to his offer and pressed enter. In response, he tilted his head so that his bangs moved a little to the side, shook his head, and, after pressing subtract, entered the number of six hundred and add up. What does that make?! His present offer is as much as one hundred francs less than the first? What sort of a bargain is that? And apparently, if I try to increase my demand again, he will respond by lowering his offer again. I don't like smart guys like that, and I wanted to leave and send his offer to Cronus. Taking a deep breath, I stepped on that wish and held out my hand in agreement.

After shaking my palm, the house manager clapped me on the shoulder and said: "Well... You start settling in here, and I'll arrange the employment contract."

"Before we get started, would you give me the manual for this equipment for an initial review?"

My simple and basically logical request was met with a cold smile and a phrase oozing with sarcasm: "Manual? Where did I get it?" I thought I saw a sneer in his eyes covered by bangs. "Are you an idiot?"

"Okay, I'll do it without it!" I immediately backtracked, I really didn't like the tone in which it was said.

"That's good..."

He sits down at the bar and pulls out some sheets and a pen from a folder. And I am fully convinced that the "electronic restaurant" kit is stolen, so no one will really provide a manual for it.

The leather sofa, which seemed uncomfortable because of the high back, pleasantly surprised me - it was very comfortable to sit on it. After throwing off my jacket, with a light touch on the touch surface, I called up the settings menu and looked at the type of operating system and its installed version. Nothing extraordinary, the usual Robot1 fifth edition with the manufacturer's shell installed on top. If you do not take into account the shell, the operating system is familiar to me, there should be no difficulty in getting acquainted, and then there may be its own specifics. But then we will see.

I was pleasantly impressed by the hardware. In addition to the huge full-surface touchscreen, the internal stuffing was of the highest level. Most of all, I was impressed by the way all the equipment was connected into one network - simple and reliable.

"Your name is Utis, right?"

"Yes."

"And the last name? I need it for the contract," the housekeeper mutters without taking his eyes off the paper.

"Irzhech."

"So, Slaven..." I have nothing to say to his obvious guess.

I wish to make a flat joke, like, "Do I look like a Japanese?", but I keep myself from doing so and ask something more relevant: "I need admin access to the network"

"Okay," he runs his fingers quickly over the counter. "Done."

The manner in which his palms fly over the touchpad, as well as his words about how he was the one who set everything up and set up the network, makes me think that my first impression of this guy in the old overalls was wrong.

"What should I put in the "employment" box?" My new employer is uncharacteristically tactful.

"Student."

"Then the university should be written..."

"TUNG."

His pen froze, and he slowly turned with his whole body.

"You, that's..." judging by the pause, he was trying to find a polite synonym for the word "lie", but all he could think of were profane analogs.

"Really," I interrupt the pause. "Can I show you my student ID? But I'm on sabbatical until the beginning of the next academic year," I clarify the situation, making it clear that I'm not so busy and I can handle the job offered.

"Ahem," he didn't go into details. "Age?"

"Nineteen. I can give you a social network profile, it has everything you need to fill out the paperwork."

Following his nod, I go online right from the table and drop my page on the bar. Convenient. Suddenly, the process of familiarizing myself with a rare product captivated me, and the time flew completely unnoticed.

"Are you settling in?" After two hours, my employer is all over me. "Have you understood it?"

"I got the gasp of it, but there are questions and a couple of not very clear points..."

Then there was a business conversation, which ended in the signing of a working contract - for a month so far, but with the possibility of prolongation by mutual agreement of the parties.

"Normally, you should be given at least two days to get the gasp of it..." The housekeeper sighed sadly and continued. "But that's the smart way, not through the ass as we usually do. We don't have much time before the opening. So here's a file with pictures of dishes and names, and here's a flowchart of how I want to see the menu and the transitions between sections. You don't have to do anything yourself, just use the interface provided by the manufacturer. Your job is to place the dishes on the menu tree."

"The dishes have a photo, name, and section labels, but no descriptions or prices," I notice.

"Illea will come tomorrow and take care of it. That's not your concern."

I don't know who Illea is, I've never seen her, but if that's her job, it's better for me.

"One question," I dared to ask before he left.

"Yes?"

"I forgot your name..." He definitely introduced himself when I first met him when I moved in. But I didn't see fit to remember his name, and now I'm so ashamed I want to fall into Tartarus.

"Ten. Ten Daas." You wouldn't know from his appearance that he was a Gelwent. He looked more like a Slaven, but his name and surname gave away his roots more clearly than his appearance. However, over nearly three centuries of coexistence in the lands of Avalon, the two major nations of the state had become so intertwined that one could speak of a new nationality, "Avalonian".

"Sorry..." My remorse is sincere. Not remembering someone's name is a sign of the insignificance of that person to you. It's embarrassing, very embarrassing.

"Never mind," he lets it be known that he is not offended, and goes back behind the counter.

The work was easy, but required attentiveness and some degree of habit to operate such a huge screen. I transferred the files from the flash drive to the group "restaurant menu" and sorted them by type, according to the notes in the photo: hot dish, cold appetizer, soup, and so on. I didn't really look at the pictures, I paid more attention not to the look of the dish, but to its description where it was written where to put it. But still, I could not help noticing one detail: all the pictures were taken at a very good level. Not just someone who came and took photos on the phone, but with a good wide-angle lens and good job with the light. I don't really know much about photography, but since my older sister has been into it for such a long time, I can appreciate some of the details.

I realized that I was beginning to like it here. Everything around here is done with care, no hustle and bustle. Finishing materials are inexpensive but not cheap, and the repair work was done with high quality. Laminate is so similar to the parquet that you can only distinguish it by touching it. Even if you do not take into account the set of "smart restaurants", such an establishment would not look like a black sheep somewhere in the city center, on one of the many pedestrian streets near the Central Quay. I spread out the photos, and I'm trying to understand, why would a restaurant of such a class opened in a place where people can't afford to go to it? And those who can afford it won't risk going into this urban area, which even the police are trying to avoid. Weird...

After I finished placing the pictures of the dishes according to the sections indicated on them, I double-checked what I had done, just in case. I didn't want to make a mistake on my first work assignment. Ten Daas checked my work with a cursory glance through a random catalog of menus. He seemed satisfied if I understood his tilted head correctly.

"You were fast." It didn't seem that way to me; on the contrary, I did everything slowly, trying to double-check three or four times. But if he thinks so, I won't change his mind. "t's time for lunch, and the gas won't be turned on until tomorrow. I'll order a pizza, and you pick up some games, so visitors can have fun while waiting for their order." he traced a finger in the air and added. "So, to look good on such a big screen, and preferably, you can play with the company. You know, air hockey or something like that."

"I'll try to find something." I've never been into touch games, and my voice didn't sound very confident.

After walking back to the counter, the housekeeper appeared to be using an online food-ordering service. Then, after sitting thoughtfully for half a minute, he turned to me.

"Wait... Don't download air hockey or any game where you wave your hands around hard. Exclude them right away. They get drunk, they start playing, and they break dishes. No... I don't want that. Find calmer games. Yes... But don't overdo it with chess and board games like that, either. There are not a lot of people here who like that kind of pastime. Something in between those extremes, so you'll figure it out..."

My task just got a lot more complicated. It's good to have the net and not have to have my knowledge. After opening several popular game sites dedicated to touch games, I delved into the study of ratings and readership likes.

We managed to eat the pepperoni we brought, and I still couldn't find any games.

"Did you find anything?"

"It turned out to be harder than I thought it would be. There was nothing I liked."

Ten Daas nodded in agreement at the first part of my sentence, but he grinned bitterly at the second.

"No one set you that task. Visitors don't care about your preferences. You've got game charts and popularity ratings open, so go with them, not your own preferences. Or do you think visitors' preferences will be the same as yours?"

"No-o." His rebuke sounded unexpectedly harsh. I'd just relaxed after lunch, and she caught me off guard.

"Okay," he waved his hand. "You'll finish it tomorrow. Your day's work is done for today."

"But I didn't finish the work."

According to the contract I signed, I had an irregular working day, but my total workload was not to exceed five hours a day. Today I worked only four hours and ten minutes.

"Go to yourself. If you want to find something today, use your computer."

"But..." I liked working with such a big screen, there was something unusual about it.

"Fuck off!"

His shout was so sudden and like a growl that I didn't even notice how my feet carried me to the exit.

"Wait," Ten Daas stopped me at the door. I turn around. "I didn't mean to be rude, and I apologize for my raised voice. But... In the future, if I tell you to leave, you leave. No questions. No arguments. Just walk away... Okay?"

"Yes."

"I'll wait here tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m."

"Have a good evening," I bowed in Japanese and said goodbye.

"Yeah, yeah..." He waved his hand tiredly, clearly hinting for me to get out.

When I got back to my room, I immediately turned on the computer but for ten minutes I just sat staring out the window. I hadn't had such a busy day in a long time, not since my injury. I took my eyes off the light drizzle that was drizzling outside the window and leaned toward the keyboard. No, I didn't rush out to find the games but went to the New Geneva property registry website. Entering my new address, I also found the homeowner's organization: Equilibrium 42. A new search engine query, and after wading through hundreds of different joint-stock companies with the word equilibrium in the name, I found the site I was looking for. This joint-stock company owns not only this house but the neighboring warehouse complex with an area of one and a half hectares. But that's not what I'm looking for, I need other information. Having found it, I lean back in my chair with satisfaction. The director of Equilibrium 42 was none other than Ten Daas.

So it didn't seem to me that the housekeeper was somehow too shallow for such a person. And then it comes to me - everything could have been found out much easier. After carefully reading the details in the hat of the employment contract, I make sure that I am now an employee of the organization, and Daas put his signature as the director. I seem to be relying more and more on computers and networks than on my own head. Instead of taking simpler, more efficient paths.

I decided to spend a couple of days without turning on the computer or going online at all. But that will have to wait to be done. Later. Someday. Yeah. Maybe. But not today. With that thought in mind, I plunge in search of games...

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