1

Where am I? What's going on? Why can't I remember anything? Don't panic! We need to look around and... And what? An empty room with no windows, doors or any furniture.

Where have I gone this time? I've got to stop drinking and associating with dodgy people. Or I'll end up-- What will happen? I don't remember shit. Who am I? What's my name? What happened yesterday?

I can't catch any bits and pieces but I can't see them. What did I do to make my memory go blank? Or--

I jumped to my feet, started searching my pockets, and realised with horror that I had nothing. Nothing at all! Phone, passport, driving licence, keys, wallet, cigarettes. Everything was gone, even the crumbs of tobacco, always living in my jacket pockets, and those are gone. What the hell is this?

Let's say someone made a mistake and... So what? I've been stolen? For what purpose? Who's gonna ransom me? All I have is a cat and a few friends who aren't the richest.

That's out of the question. Then what? A sobering-up centre, a detention centre, or something like that, that's out too, it's not the right environment. An experiment? Yeah, right, government or aliens? Aliens!? Oh, come on, they don't exist, probably.

- Oh, for fuck's sake! Where am I? Let me out! - I shouted upwards for some reason.

Behind me, the door opened with a long creak, revealing a brightly lit corridor.

Erm, there was nothing there just now. I wasn't so inattentive that I couldn't see the door on a perfectly flat, grey wall, could I? There's no such thing; a black metal door on a plain grey background would have caught my eye. And the fact that it opened on its own is disturbing. It's mystical, but...

Hmmm, there's an explanation for everything. There's no mystery here; I'm just being watched, and the room is bugged. Where are the cameras? Where are the microphones? I can't see anything at first glance, but okay, we'll see what clowns put me in here. But first, we need to arm ourselves with something. At least a stick or something. Of course, I can do many things with my bare hands, but with the same table or chair leg, my chances increase many times over. No matter what anyone says, you can't beat skill. How do I know that? What skill? What am I talking about?

Cautiously, I peered out into the corridor and looked around carefully. Seeing no danger, I carefully stepped out and looked around.

Oh...., the owners must be living the high life. Gold-framed pictures hung in rows on the walls. Expensive furniture, such as sofas, armchairs and coffee tables, spread throughout the corridor. Unfamiliar flowers in pots. Statuettes...

Someone has a collection of figurines, heroes of popular computer games and, as I see it, films. On a colossal pedestal are figurines of characters like Alien, Predator, Isaac Clarke, it's unclear, Robocop (it's dark). Under each figure are inscriptions with obscure symbols and numbers. "One to seventy-five" was inscribed on a gold plate at the feet of the Predator. But the Alien's plate was silver, and the numbers were different: "two - sixty. Isaac has a bronze plate with the numbers "three - forty-one" " and the unknown characters have iron plates, and the numbers are pretty modest: "three - ten" or "five - fourteen".

What does that mean? Places in the rating? Or... Okay, we'll figure out what is happening here later, but let's think about what I've got for now. I'm one thing, a weird place, I mean a corridor with paintings and junk in it, one thing. And that's it: no people are seen, no big-headed aliens with huge eyes, no demons or angels.

Strange, very strange. A long corridor, a hundred metres long, and only two doors, one of which I came out of, the other I still have to go to. I'll find all the answers to that one. I'm not sure I'll like them. But there's nothing to do, no turning back, so I will keep moving forward.

****

The trek to the door took a little longer. I could see the damn door, I could see the corridor, I could estimate the distance to the goal. But the further I went, the further it got. There were new paintings, new statuettes - the corridor lengthened imperceptibly, but I'm sure it did. And when I came across the familiar figurines of Alien, Predator, and Isaac, a question arose. How the fuck do you walk in a circle in a perfectly straight corridor?

Okay, this is all in my head. This can't be happening! I'm dreaming, yes, that's right, I'm dreaming. I'm having a nightmare, and I just can't wake up. It happens. It's happened to me so many times. But...

After examining the figures, paintings and other furnishings, I concluded that this can't happen in real life. There's no way!

An attempt to tear a leaf from a flower resulted in a failure and a complete one at that. The broad, dark green leaf, with water droplets on its smooth surface, didn't even move. No matter how often I tried to move, lift, or even drop something, all objects remained motionless.

As I slammed my fist into the wall, I was even more horrified to realise it didn't hurt. In addition, I realised that I didn't want to drink, eat, or... I didn't want anything at all. I took a deep breath and started counting... Ten, twenty, fifty... One hundred!

How? I don't need air now? What the hell is this? So, maybe...

I couldn't think of anything more precise, so I bit my hand. And again, nothing! No blood rushed out, no taste, no teeth marks on my skin. As was my habit, I sat tiredly against the wall and slammed my pockets down. Finding nothing, I stretched my legs and stared at the opposite wall.

  - Who are you?" I asked, looking at the picture of a strange but beautiful girl with glasses and a massive pair of scissors behind her back.

There was no reply... Yeah, well, if it were any other way, I'd be surprised. Where did we have talking paintings? Like at Hogwarts? How come I remember that and can't remember my name?

- All right, wake up! I slapped myself. - Wake up, whoever you are!

Nothing... A ringing silence, no sounds, no smells. Not even-- Jesus! There's no heartbeat!

- How's that? - Jumping to my feet, I asked the girl, looking at me silently from the painting. - Why? I'm conscious, I'm walking, I think I...

Sitting down against the wall, I wrapped my arms around my knees, covered my eyes and began to think. And no matter how hard I tried to calm myself down, it all came down to the fact that I was dead. My heart wasn't beating, I wasn't breathing, I couldn't feel pain.

It's sad. I am trying to remember who I am and how old I am. I know I'm not old, but I'm not young either. I'm not eighteen, and it's been a long time. But I imagined it all differently: devils, cauldrons, sinners. Satan sitting on a throne of bones, heat and the smell of sulphur. I never expected to go to heaven. I wonder why. Maybe I was an evil man when I was alive. Not a righteous man. I don't believe that.

- What's next? - Raising my head, I asked. - Do I have to walk around this place forever? Answer me!

The goddamn corridor rippled, distorted, and began to twist... With a pop, everything returned to its place... And then, at the end of the hall, without any sound, the thrice-damned door opened.

- Fucking miracles. - Looking at it, I exhaled. - Well, the hell with you. If you invite me in, I'll come in.

Standing up, I walked briskly towards my goal. Fearing that walking down the corridor would take too long again, I started running. Then I realised the hall was getting shorter and was already one step away from the door.

Something about it bores me and reminds me at the same time. Like I've been here before. But that's impossible. I remember I'd never been in a place like this before. Or have I? What's wrong with me? I remember, and at the same time. My head feels like cotton wool. Я...

- How long are you gonna stand there? - A cheerful and very familiar voice asked me from inside. - Come in, don't be shy.

Is that for me? He speaks as if he's known me for a long time. That's how you talk to old mates. Then how do I know that voice? Why does it sound familiar? And this place, I've been here, but I can't remember when or under what circumstances. Deja vu is a very similar feeling. I've never been here before, but everything seems so familiar.

- Courier, how long are you going to waste my time? - I was asked in a fake, irritated manner.

- Courier... What about you? I remember Player.

Suddenly, it became cold; my lungs burned from a deep breath, my eyes darkened, and my heart thumped loudly and beat frantically. A sharp pain pierced my right hand, and blood dripped onto the floor, running down my fingers.

He fell to his knees and clutched his splitting head with his hands. Pictures of my life swam before my eyes. They were assembled from the fragments, lined up in images and immediately scattered with multi-coloured splashes. They reassembled again, adding to them, showing me scenes of fights, gunfights, people, robots, and monsters.

It all swirled, collected, sorted, and fell into place. With each memory fragment, the pain intensified, each piece falling into place, bringing unbearable suffering. Billions of images swirled around me, gathering into ribbons and bringing more pain flying into my head.

- Aah!" I yelled in pain, clutching at my hair.

- That's enough. - The mocking voice said calmly. - Get up and come in. You're screaming like an injured man, and I'm supposed to be off today.

- Kha... Couldn't you do without this? - Getting to my feet, I coughed. - Why?

- For that. - Walking out into the corridor, the Player snorted. - You're safely dead on your favourite Wasteland. All right, let's get this over with. First, let's go to my place so you can sit down and calm down.

Smiling good-naturedly, the Player led me into the office, carelessly pointed to a chair, sat down himself and, interlocking his fingers, began to scrutinise me.

- I'd like some water. - Rubbing my throat, I wheezed. - And a cigarette.

- What an impertinent man. - Snapping his fingers, the Gambler smiled. - That's what I like about you. Come to your senses and listen carefully.

- Yeah, yeah, sure, I'm all ears. - I nodded, licking my parched lips as I pulled the water bottle towards me.

- Um, let's start at the beginning. Six years ago, you came here and agreed to work for me. I hope you remember that?

- It's hard to forget. - I shrugged my shoulders as I downed half a bottle. - Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. You said something about choice. So why am I here?

- For starters, as promised, I'm asking you. - The Gambler got severe. - What will you choose? A new adventure, rebirth, or eternal rest? Think about it. I'm not rushing you. But don't forget, life in Mojave is over. I can't bring you back. It's against my rules. I won't tell you how you died either. People react painfully to such news.

Having said that, the Player slid me a cigarette, a lighter and an ashtray. He opened his laptop and, having lost all interest in me, started typing something on the keyboard.

So he died... It's a shame, most of all, because I don't remember it. But maybe I don't have to. What am I supposed to do now? That's a tricky question.

Six years ago, I took an adventure to a very hospitable place. I'd only ever seen a devil's furnace called the Mojave Wasteland in a computer game. I wish I'd never seen it at all. Well, in retrospect, it wasn't so bad. At first, of course, it was scary and hard. Constant skirmishes with raiders, mutants, and crazed robots. Local beasts that were not friendly, continuous radiation, NKR, Legion and many others. It was all a nightmare.

With no money virtually no weapons, I survived as best I could. And if it wasn't for the system the Player gave me, I wouldn't have stayed. So my first gifts were an old 10mm pistol, a caravaner's shotgun, a grenade launcher and a handful of ammunition. And so I began my journey through the Mojave.

But, as time went on, things got better. After six months, the local gangs started to avoid me. And so did the N.R.C. patrols. I went from intimidated survivalist to Predator. Now, I was a hunter. Now, I was feared and avoided in the Mojave. And if they did, they would stare fearfully into the red visors of their police armour helmets and silently pass me by. I dictated my terms, and they listened.

After another six months, I made it to New Vegas and met with a local tycoon. Mr. House, the owner of all of New Vegas, quickly realised that I could be dealt with, and after that, my business took a sharp turn for the better. We had the same outlook on life and worked things out quickly.

It's hard not to when you've got an army of securitrons and a couple of powerful gangs behind you, like the Bombers, which isn't really a gang, and the Great Khans. Also, the Weaponsmiths, having realised what was happening, did not pull the cat out of the bag and came with a bow to House. Our strength increased manifold. The NKR were defeated and scattered. The Legion, who held the defence to the last, was wiped out by a missile strike and scattered radioactive dust all over the Wasteland.

Before launching the missiles at Caesar's camp, I even hesitated. Looking at the dead Ulysses, I thought for ten seconds: should I launch five missiles or twenty to be sure? I fired fifteen, destroying the fanatics and their leader once and for all. Trustworthy, along with the slaves... But, in war, all means are suitable. I'm bitter about it, but it was necessary.

What else have I accomplished in those six years? Significantly reduced the numbers of death claws, super mutants and ghouls. Brought peace and order to New Vegas and the surrounding areas. Slaughtered the Devils, the Vipers, and all the other nasties. Wiped out places like The Rift, Big Mountain and the Sierra Madre and cleaned them all out. The ghosts, robots and goons didn't need the money anyway, but I did. Even though I spent it on hookers, booze and roulette.

But on the personal front, things were much worse. I couldn't find the one. And it could have been Sonny, but it wasn't. Fool, she dragged a brat from the NKR, who, after the massacre, ran away so that they didn't wait for anyone, even their own wounded, to certain death. And this poor bastard lagged behind and got lost. He got to the outskirts of Goodsprings, where he was picked up by Sonny, who was shooting geckos.

I can't figure out why him and not me. Why did she cover him up when I pointed a shotgun at the freak? Love at first sight? No, there's no such thing, at least not that I believe in. Too bad, but all my feelings for her died at that moment. Putting the gun down, I stood there for a long time, looking at the frightened couple huddled together. Deciding whether to take the shot and end two lives at once or not. I walked away silently without saying goodbye. I went to New Vegas, to my presidential suite. To my friends.

Real friends who followed me wherever I went agreed to any adventure without question. They backed me up, supported me, understood me, and accepted me. Raul, constantly swearing, was a freak like no other. Even among the ghouls, he stood out, and not for the better. The always serious Boone, a great sniper who spit on his beliefs and came with me. Cass is petty, cheeky, cheeky and mean. Dr Guénon was bright and calm, which pissed off the impulsive Raoul. Veronica is cheerful and boisterous, dreaming of beautiful dresses, carefree life and adventures. She never returned to the Brotherhood of Steel, which I didn't want to destroy just because of that fidgety girl.

What are they gonna do without me? Will they scatter or continue to live at Lucky 38 and work for House? And how's House doing? Probably upset to hear I'm gone.

What am I supposed to do now? I should be reborn. Then I'll forget all of this. Forget the good and the bad. Forget me. Start a new game? As an option, it fits, but... No buts, I don't want to retire yet, and I'm not sure I ever will. I'll move on and see other worlds.

- Player, I agree. - Pushing away sad thoughts, I smiled.

- Have you thought about it? You have plenty of time to think as much as you want. Weigh the pros and cons. I can show you your life from the outside.

- Another cigarette, if you can.

- Anything you want. - The Player handed me a pack. - Now, we'll summarise your mission. I'll explain something to you, and you can go.

- I'm listening carefully.

- So, mission accomplished. Life in Mojave is getting better. Your friend Mr. House is ruling with an iron fist. Everything's fine. The next world will be much more complex, but you'll be fine. You're the Courier: Child of the Wasteland, Thunder of the Legion and many other titles.

- What world, what mission, what's in store for me?

- Hmm, underworld intrigue, psychopathic scientists, world wars, assassins, juveniles, demons. Just the way you like it.

- When did I get to love such things? - I asked. - Maybe somewhere quieter? I do not want to see demons, and all sorts of psychopaths have already had time to see.

- Don't be cheeky. Where it's quieter, weaklings are working there. And I see potential in you, so don't whine.

- All right, I won't. - I got my hands up. - It's just for show.

- Watch me. The Player wagged his finger at me. - Don't dig in, or I'll send you to Mars, right when the portal to hell opens or to Ishimura. Don't pale, I'm kidding. I've got another assignment for you. Anyway, I promised you a promotion, so here's the assignment. The world you're about to leave for is in danger. You, as a promising agent, will stop the catastrophe. I don't care how you do it. I don't care about your methods or the result. The world stays intact, and the inhabitants are relatively safe. You get your well-deserved bonuses and the opportunity to make another choice. You fail, you retire. Is that clear?

- I couldn't be more precise. - Smoking a fifth in a row, hummed I. - Well, I'll go then?

- Sit down, listen to the rest, and don't make a fuss. For a well-done mission, you will receive some gifts. They'll help you complete the mission.

To begin with, you'll keep the system, but you'll have to adapt it to local realities, but that's not your concern. And now for the presents.

Gift one. Ten stimulants and two super. They cure everything: fractures, injuries, organ loss, mental disorders, curses, the soul and even diseases. It happens, don't be surprised. All in all, the item is unique and precious. Besides, it has one plus: it removes all adverse effects, and the patient's organism returns to its optimal state. This means iron physical, mental and spiritual health and the age of about twenty, give or take a couple of years. So, use it wisely. I won't give you any more.

Gift number two. Katana, notable, you can't lose it, you can't break it, you can't sharpen it. It's a long explanation. You'll find out the rest on the spot. Remember to look at the description. It'll be stored in the gifts section. Then you can move it wherever you want.

Gift three. At first, I wanted to give you empathy. You have a system that will show your reputation to make it easier for you to get along with people and recognise who's a friend and who's an enemy. So you don't need empathy. Instead, I'll give you a gut feeling, a sense of danger. You'll need it a lot more, and it'll help you survive. You're not immortal. Remember that.

That's it for the presents, now I'll tell you about you. Don't squirm, or I'll leave you with that face forever. You're not just a human anymore. You're more than that. With each mission, your mind grows stronger, and so does your soul. Even though you've only lived two lives, you've gained much experience. Your sense is already much stronger than a human's, so you can resist mentalists, hypnotists, and charlatans. But I suggest you work subtly and deceive them.

- Are there some of those out there? What kind of world is this?

- Don't interrupt. I'll cover you from clairvoyants, oracles, fortune tellers and artefacts. No one will ever know about me or who you really are. Unless you tell me, which I don't advise you to do. But look, if your dream comes true and you find the one, or more than one. You can open up. That's your business. But don't tell everyone. It won't do you any good. Now, let's get to the important stuff. You're going into the body of a child, seven years old. But it's a more extended year, so by your usual standards, you'll be eight. Don't worry, the child is dead, the soul has left the body, and you can work peacefully. And no, there's no other way, don't snort. You're going to have to go through another painful memory assimilation process. It's even more distressing because it'll be someone else's memory. It's not just your memories that will be learned. It's your muscle memory. Trust me, you'll need it, and it'll be over quickly. It's a child's body. You don't have much memory. Any questions?

- Lots of them. Why is it that when I die, I forget everything, and then you bring it back. That's, how can I put it, not very nice.

- After death. - Leaning back, the Player began. - After death, the soul must be purified. To go on without the weight of years lived and experience gained. Even a strong mind needs rest. I've found a way around that. As you can see, it could be more pleasant.

- And I've had time to rest in such a short time? What's it been, half an hour, an hour?

- It's been two years. - The Gambler interrupted me. - Two years you've been wandering the corridor. In time, it will take much less time. But this is only your second time. The downside is that some critical memories are irretrievably lost the first time. For example, we need to find out your real name. It's gone, erased from reality when you came to me. It's impossible to recognise it, but you'll soon have a new one.

- What is it?

- You'll know soon enough. - The Gambler winked at me. - Very soon, you will know. No, I won't tell you, surprise.

- Surprise, motherfucker.

- You could say that. - The Player shrugged his shoulders. - Any other questions?

- The body... If I get into a child's body, how will it affect him? And me too, it can't go without consequences, right?

- Good question. - Chuckled the Gambler. - There will be consequences. Your mind won't like the new vessel. Not drastically, but your body will change. Early adulthood, accelerated development. Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with it. Just a couple of years ahead of your peers. And with memory, you'll acquire some habits and disadvantages as well as advantages. Anything else you want to know?

- No, I'm ready. Send me in.

- Come on, I'll walk you out. - After closing his laptop, the Player got up from his desk. - It's a tradition. I always escort my employees out on missions. We should think of something else, something more interesting.

Putting a cigarette in the ashtray, I followed the Player. Yes, then, six years ago, when I saw in this very place a twenty-year-old miracle in a T-shirt with AC/DC inscription and shorts who introduced himself as a god of video games, I didn't believe it. Tried to swing a licence, for which I got one. The blond-haired guy just smiled, raised an eyebrow and made a fist. On the other hand, I was lifted into the air, hit the ceiling, squeezed, and slammed to the floor. With such force, cracks went through the floor as well as me. After that lesson, I sat there and listened like silk. I didn't want to repeat it. And no matter how delusional his words seemed, I believed him. I was interested. I took a deep breath and agreed. And no, not for nothing, although there are still some doubts. If I had had something to regret or remember in my first life, I would have chosen rebirth. But, unfortunately, I had no one there. And here, friends, good friends, loyal friends, but friends.

- Look, my best agents. - Pointed the Player at the statuettes. - Especially this one.

- Predator? What do the numbers mean?

- Yautja, the name of the race, Yautja. The numbers mean the following: the first one is the number of failures, and the second one is the number of missions completed. And he's a Yautja only now, on this mission. So he's as human as you are. Look at the numbers. You have something to look forward to. Your statue may show up here.

- And the paintings?

- They're portraits, dummies, of the last incarnation of those who chose to leave. Good agents, experts at what they do. They chose rebirth.

Hmm, so it happens. Must be tired. Well, I'll find out later.

****

We walked down the corridor, listening to stories about other agents along the way, and came to a blank wall, on which a glowing rectangle instantly appeared, a cold smell of electric shocks sparking around it.

- Lastly, I'll tell you one important thing. - Standing at the portal and looking into the bottomless blue, the Player told me. - The first world you work in makes an indelible imprint on you. So, no matter where you go or how many lives you've lived, you'll always be a Courier. The Wasteland will never let you go. That shouldn't be a big problem. You've got the experience, two lives now. Don't fail; the system will help you, and I'll always have your back. But I won't wipe your nose and interfere openly, as you've learnt. Come on, get new knowledge, new powers, new opportunities. Live, learn, and have fun, but remember your mission.

- Thanks, but can you tell me what's waiting for me? If you can, be specific.

- You'll find out soon enough. Game on, good luck. - With a monstrous force, the Player shoved me in the back. - Don't blow it.

I was flying straight towards a shimmering white dot in the shining blue abyss. Through clouds of dark blue mist, I was approaching the white light. Scorched by the cold, I strove towards the growing point, realising that the abyss would swallow me up without a trace if I stopped for even a second. I would stay here and become a part of this horrible place. I'd become foggy and never get out again.

But the saving light was looming brightly ahead. It was beckoning, calling, dispelling the blue darkness, promising salvation. Together with a new life, together with the unknown, it is frightening and tantalising at the same time.

- Adventurer, adventurer. - Raoul's voice rumbled in my head. - When are you going to calm down?

Yes, I am!

- I'll always need help understanding you. - came Boone's sad voice.

Don't even try, mate.

- You should have just sat still and kept your head down. You've got everything you need. - Cass's voice said grumpily.

Oh, no, there's so much more to life. And when there's more than one life... I won't stop! I'll take every opportunity, but I'll see as much as I can.

- Let's find something exciting! " Veronica shouted enthusiastically.

- Let's do it. Let's go for the unknown! - I shouted, feeling myself speeding up even more. - We'll find it! No doubt about it! Something unprecedented awaits us!

The rapidly approaching star met me with a black hole right in the star's centre, which I instantly lost speed, stopped and began to fall. I was falling downwards in the darkness; time seemed to stop, and when I started to think that something had gone wrong, I fell on my back with a tremendous force. A sharp pain pierced my body, and I sat up immediately, gulping for air and frantically groping myself.

- I'm alive! I'm alive! - I shouted, realising I was all right.

There was a metallic clang and the sound of something soft falling.

That's it, we calm down and look where I've gone. I'm half-dark, warm on the bed, wearing my hospital pyjamas. Someone is resting on the floor by the ajar door.

I shouldn't have shouted like that. I scared a man, hopefully not to death. But where I am, the body lying on the floor and the unfamiliar surroundings don't explain shit. I'll have to reconnoitre.

I threw the blanket off my legs and got up, but suddenly, a sharp flash of headache threw me back down. Gritting my teeth, I watched the multi-coloured shards gather into pictures again. The pictures lined up in ribbons, and all this splendour swirled around me, coming closer.

- This is going to hurt. - I hissed, clenching the corner of the pillow with my teeth.

The first ribbon burned my head with a hellish pain, the second almost knocked me unconscious, and the third made me howl.

- Oh, Mum. - I groaned, looking at thousands of the same ribbons, glittering with different pictures. - I wish I hadn't died.

As if on cue, a dozen ribbons finished lining up at once and rushed towards me. Bright lights flashed before my eyes, my body convulsed, and my consciousness cowardly left me.