Юрий Третьяков – Algoritm of oblivion (страница 5)

“What’s that? What did you get?” Artem, who had recently celebrated his fifteenth birthday, whom Aunt Olga and Max’s mother had repeatedly tried to befriend by bringing them together, jumped up from his chair, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity, seeing the gadget. He had dark hair and swarthy skin, inherited from his father, Aunt Olga’s husband, Vladislav.

“Is that VR? So you can join us in the raid on the ‘cursed lands’! Join us while it’s not too late, we need everyone. Of course, you won’t be of much use, but you’ll still get an achievement as a participant. Such global events rarely happen. So don’t miss your chance. This time, the light forces will definitely reach the castle and destroy the Twilight King!”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be playing this. I don’t want to be a zombie stuck online for days. I want, you know… to still be in reality,” Max put the box on the table.

“What are you talking about, it’s the best game of all time, okay, before you couldn’t play because of parental controls and age restrictions, but now what? Have you heard who leads the clan ‘Mercenaries from the North’ – Boris and Vic! Bullies from our school! Maybe we can start a acquaintance, we will raise our social rating at school. And such events are rare. Come on, they gathered all the adventurers, received help from the imperial bot-legion, and all the kingdoms of light sent their best warriors. What’s the point of living if not for such battles? Daria and I would first help you level up your skills, take you through dungeons, raise a couple of levels together. And into battle!” Artem seemed to be a little hooked on games. Even today, when he came to visit, he spent half the day in the game chat and on forums dedicated to the game. Like Daria. “The whole summer is ahead, what will you do if you don’t play?”

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll sign up for the archaeological expedition with our historian Fedorov. It seems like he’s recruiting people again now,” Max replied.

Daria, who had been staring listlessly out the window, cast a fleeting, interested glance at Max. A spark flickered in her eyes, as if she had momentarily seen in him something different from the rest, something deeper and more real. But she immediately returned to her contemplation.

“To that old alcoholic? Hauling stones all summer? Give it up, there are only losers and nerds there.”

“The cake will be ready in 5 minutes!” Max’s mother’s voice came from the kitchen.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up, I’ll just take this upstairs.” Max pointed to the VR.

Max’s room was in such a state of disarray that even the most experienced chaos researchers would probably have given up upon seeing it. Things were scattered everywhere, each seemingly trying to tell its own story, but like Max himself, they weren’t too sure what exactly they wanted to convey.

In a place of honor stood a trophy with figurines of fighters, won at a martial arts tournament where Max, as usual, took not first but third place. It was a pretty impressive achievement, except that his persistence in training lasted only until he realized that martial arts lacked magic and dragons. The trophy seemed to know about his short-lived passion and looked at its owner with bitterness.

The computer, on which an unfinished program was open, reminded him that Max had once dreamed of becoming a great programmer like his father. However, as often happens with dreams, he soon lost interest in them, leaving the project in a state of “still in progress.” In this place, technology and inspiration met to exchange glances before parting forever.

A small green tree – a bonsai – stood in the corner, like a wise elder who, despite all the chaos around, remained calm. Max sometimes came to it to reflect on life, but in the end, he often just forgot to water it. The bonsai seemed to know that its fate was to witness the strange reflections of a young philosopher who didn’t always remember his responsibilities.

A poster from a NASCAR race that Max had once attended with his father hung on the wall, as a reminder of a happy day. It always smiled when he looked at it, as if trying to say: “Here, this was real fun, not all this…”.

An electric guitar, standing on a stand, waited like an unnoticed muse who knew that her time would come, but was in no hurry. Music was his passion, but, like everything else, it often remained in the shadows.

On the bookshelf, among textbooks on mathematics and astrophysics, a mythological encyclopedia and treatises by ancient military leaders peacefully coexisted. Max, as a true seeker of knowledge, believed that one day all these books would tell him something important, although for now they were just gathering dust, waiting for their time.

This whole room created an atmosphere of constant searching, where each passion became just a stop on the way to something more. Max knew that sooner or later he would find something that truly captivated him, and then his room would become a reflection of his true “self” – or, at least, would become a little more organized. But, as the classic said: “Everything comes in time for those who know how to wait.”

All this accumulation of objects left very little space for life, so the furniture in the room consisted only of a bed, a table, and a wardrobe.

Gifts, given personally and passed through mutual acquaintances, lay here in the corner of the room, unopened in factory packaging and bright ribbons:

– A new laptop from his mother.

– A book on psychology from Aunt Olga.

– A set of tools for soldering microcircuits from Uncle Vladislav. They had been friends with his father since school. And his father often said that if it weren’t for him and his talent for handling computer hardware, VR technology would have reached real implementation 10 years later, or maybe it wouldn’t have appeared at all, remaining at the level of an idea.

– Collectible figurines of characters from the game were brought by Artem.

Max never understood this fascination of almost adult and some completely adult people with collecting figurines of characters from films and games. But now he also became the owner of a figurine of the “Twilight King”, some witch in black flowing rags and a dragon.

– A watch was sent by the director and majority shareholder of the company DREAM Inc. – Alexander First. He owned the company, one of the founders of which was Max’s father.

The gift from Daria was unexpected. A package of condoms tied with a blue ribbon. “Condoms for a Condom” read the inscription in black marker on it. Next was a smiley face in the shape of a heart.

“Closer – further” – Daria was perfectly fluent in this game. All evening – icy silence, but then this gift…, the gift clearly hinted at a continuation. Or was it just a mockery? What did she mean by this?

He could have guessed about this for the rest of the evening, but now he was occupied by another mystery.

Max put the VR with the rest of the gifts. He took the augmented reality glasses from the floor and went to the news portal:

News Headlines 02/03/2050

– Globalization Isn’t What We Wanted for Breakfast! Antiglobalists gather for the largest rally of the decade. However, the protests promise to become not only an expression of discontent, but also the main cultural event of the year with performances by famous artists and an extensive entertainment program.

– Cinema: Virtual Reality Changes Perception of Films VR-technologies from the company “Dream” are changing the TV series industry – viewers do not just watch, but experience history. But how do you bring them back to the usual boring real world and send them to work in the office, after they have been heroes all weekend, saving the world from evil season after season?

– Breakthrough in Psychology: Scientists Developed a New Method of Treating Depression A new method of neurostimulation promises to relieve depression by reprogramming the brain. Will everyone finally be able to be happy just by pressing a button?

– Superheroes on Minimum Wage: How eSportsmen Save the World From Boredom eSports has been recognized as an official profession, allowing you to count on a minimum wage from the state. Now, teenagers who have not finished school become not only opinion leaders and idols of youth, influencing the minds of an entire generation, but also respected members of society whose work is finally officially appreciated.

– Personality for Rent: Who Owns Our Data? Experts raise the alarm: personal information is the new and most valuable asset. How to protect yourself in the digital ocean.

Quickly swiping away news about antiglobalist protests, cinema, scientific achievements, he went to the archival section.

He typed in the search engine: “Mikhail Gromov Dream tunnel accident.”

He reopened the articles about his father’s death, those that still made it to the web, despite attempts by the company to “hush up” the matter. He had reread them a hundred times before and had already promised himself not to do it again, but today he returned to them again.

Several years before his father disappeared, he had a falling out with his wife, Max’s mother, withdrew from work at the company, and moved to some backwater. Tatiana accused him of domestic violence and drunkenness, although Max was ready to vouch that nothing of the sort had happened. Rather the opposite. He remembered one quarrel, but it happened because Tatiana was communicating too closely with her yoga instructor. Then there was a conversation in raised tones and he and his mother moved out after that. His father bought a new house. In the course of the divorce, the company severed relations with the developer who had gained a bad reputation, which could cast a shadow on them as well. In the end, he also disappeared from the information field, telling those media outlets that were still willing to listen to him that he was working on some new project in the field of artificial intelligence. After that, his communication with the outside world ceased for many years.