CHAPTER 49

Once again, I was alone. It struck me how that was the norm for me, save for when I was in a full-on crowd. I didn't seem to have a middle ground.

Thad a strong feeling of deja vu. Something like that had happened just recently, and that time I left the game. There was nothing for it but to stick with tradition, so I clicked the button to log out.

There was one more good tradition starting to take shape: as soon as I exited the game, my phone rang. I climbed out of the capsule, rubbed my stiff low back, and answered.

"Hi, son." It was my dad.

"Hi, pops," I said with some suspicion.

My father was the kind of person who thought kids should learn how to live life on their own. You know, throw them in and watch them sink or swim. And if they sank, well, that was their problem.

"Well, kiddo, what are you up to?" My suspicions grew. He obviously needed something.

"Ah, you know, we're slammed at work..." I decided to get out in front of him.

"Oh, stop it. I called the office first and asked to talk to you. They said you wouldn't be there for another three weeks."

"Whatever, just tell me what you need." There was no avoiding it this time.

"We need to go patch up the roof at the dacha[13]," he said, putting his cards on the table as well.

Oh, no—anything but that!

In addition to the apartment I was living in, my grandfather gave our family twelve acres in Mozhaysky District. The land also had a house that was built during the communist years out of anything they could find or steal back then. Needless to say, the old dinosaur regularly tried to end its miserable existence and collapse in a heap. My father, however, was stubbornly insistent that that would not happen, and he was constantly ready to buy materials and bring it back to life. Year after year, it groaned and creaked in the wind, frustrated that its humans wouldn't let it die. It was apparently time for yet another resurrection.

"Dad, I really can't. I have work."

"Son, it's our family nest." Ha, right he meant our plywood nest. "It's just something we have to do. Plus, you know I won't let it go, so just give in and come. Your mom will definitely be happy to see you."

I sighed, knowing that he was right.

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning I'll stop by to pick you up, so be at the building entrance by seven. And hey, we'll get some work done, then in the evening we'll roast some meat, have some drinks... it'll be great. No?"

"I guess so. See you tomorrow," I said gloomily as I hung up the phone.

Great, now I had to explain to Elvira that I was off to the dacha and not to see some girls. She wouldn't believe me anyway, though, and she'd just get on my nerves, so I decided to do my due diligence and send her a text. I wasn't about to call her—my mood was already bad enough without dealing with her. And I decided to leave my phone at home.

The dacha adventure took all of three days, and I only got back to Moscow on the fourth. Life in the country wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for my parents hounding me constantly. My dad kept trying to teach me life lessons, explaining that "they're all thieves. Or homos." I needed some clarification

"Who is 'they'? And who is 'all'?"

"Everyone you see on TV. All of them."

My mom took another tack: she fed me. Constantly.

"Come on, eat something. It's good! Why do you think I cooked it?" Three days of that.

No, I mean, I get that parents love their kids, especially when don't see them for a while. But it's hard to get through that much love without a little weed…

The morning I got back, I walked into my apartment and started by turning on my phone to read the texts I'd received. I'd turned it off when I left, knowing full well that I'd have gone crazy if I had to deal with my parents and everyone calling me at the same time.

Elvira, Elvira, Elvira, Elvira. I opened one at random.

"Where are you? Missing you." Wait, was that really her? It was, and I got an uneasy feeling. Nothing good could come of that.

Oh, Gamroth. Typical: "Call me when you sleep off the booze. If you don't call before the end of the week, you're fired."

"Hello? Alexei Ilyich, it's Milford."

"Ah, the lost sheep. Where were you?"

"Playing the game, reading the forums. I decided to turn off my phone so I wouldn't be distracted."

"I'm expecting your next article today."

"Why today? It's due tomorrow?"

"Deadlines, Harrikins, deadlines. And ratings. Our readers like your work, and we have to give them What they want. Have you even seen our site?"

"Um-m-m..."

"Exactly. Um-m-m...""

"I'm not sure I can have it done in time."

"You will. And in three days, I want the last one."

"Come on! You gave me a month, and now I'm supposed to fit it all into two weeks?"

"You're almost done already. Okay, let's do this: if you can get me your fifth article today and your sixth in three days, I'll owe you one."

"I have a counter offer. If I get everything done, you give me a two-week vacation. The one I was supposed to get back in May.?"

"He wants a vacation. For two weeks. That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"It's just the time you cut off my deadline. You weren't expecting me back before then anyway."

"Fine. I'll give you a vacation, and for that... Well, we'll talk about what you'll do after your vacation when we get back. Deal."

"Can I stop by around four with my article and fill out the vacation form while I'm there?"

"You're a clever son of a gun, Harrikins. I've never seen this side of you. Fine, stop by. You can get your money while you're here, too, and that way the accountants will get off my back. I don't even get half of what they talk about."

Thung up.

Score! The whole thing ended up being even simpler than I thought it would be. Here I was planning a grand campaign for how I could squeeze those two weeks out of him, as the articles were just about ready. All I had to do was write them down—I'd left my netbook at home when I went to the dacha. Although.. I determined that, after chatting with Gamroth and shaking his hand, I would count to make sure I had all my fingers with me. On both hands. I'd check my toes, too, for good measure.

Without going into the details, everything went well.

I wrote the article, dropped by the office, filled out the form, and got my money—quite a decent amount, as it turned out. That night, I decided to take care of two things I'd been putting off: calling Elvira and checking out the game forums as well as the paper's site.

I started with my favourite representative of the Golden Horde. To be honest, I really wasn't looking forward to it, given my distaste for scandals and fights. But I have an even stronger distaste for putting off anything unpleasant I have to do. Once upon a time, I was more like everyone else on the planet and did my best to avoid those conversations. You know how it is, there's a tough conversation you need to have, and you start thinking up any excuse you can to kick the can a little further down the road. Unfortunately, that just means you won't get to pick your battlefield and, worse, you'll have wasted a whole day trying to figure out what you want to say. After that, your karma is in the toilet, and you've burned through nerve cells you'll never get back. What good does that do you? People who choose that road remind me of men trying to wade into cold water. They tiptoe in, splashing themselves with water, as if that warms them up, clenching their stomachs, doing girly little squats, and squealing when the water gets to their waist. Isn't it simpler to just jump right in? You get the whole thing over with in one fell swoop.

"Hey, El."

"Where were you?"

"At the dacha helping my parents. You didn't see my text?"

"No. You wrote me?"

"Of course! As soon as I found out I had to go. I called, too, though your phone was unavailable."

"I was worried."

That really got me going. Maybe she was pregnant? I mean, children are great in general, but right then…

"El, do you have a Schengen[14) visa?"

"Sure."

"And your friend works at a travel agency, right?"

"Still does."

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