6 Chapter Six. New Level
"You could claim that anything's real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist!"
J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
LATER, I COULD barely remember how I'd gotten back home after my night run. I'd walked along the city streets, then hitched a ride with some early-morning gypsy cab. I must have fallen asleep; I remember rummaging through my pockets for any loose change as I hadn't had enough to pay him. I remember peeling off my soggy clothes and dropping them on the bedroom floor. I then collapsed onto the bed and pressed my face to Yanna's pillow.
Just before falling asleep, I somehow remembered to set the alarm for 9.30 the next morning. I had a doctor's appointment at 11 a.m.
When the alarm awoke me, I was about to hit snooze, then remembered the appointment and shot out of bed.
"Shot out" was probably a bit of an overstatement. I'd indeed sprung out of bed, then promptly collapsed on top of it. Diagnosis: an acute case of Phil-itosis.
My whole body hurt as if some vicious warlock had cast several DOTs on me, flattened me repeatedly under a press, then thrown me into the path of a herd of Siberian mammoths.
Trying to move slowly, I somehow made it to the bathroom. I took a shower, gingerly touching my smarting body which felt completely dead after last-night's marathon. After an equally careful shave and a cautious tickle of the toothbrush, I felt marginally better.
My chest groaned with the sense of loss. I missed Yanna something rotten. I missed her voice and her "Breakfast's ready!" My hands kept reaching for the phone, desperate to dial her number.
Still, I forced myself to stay calm. I wasn't ready yet. Nor was she. By calling her now, I could ruin everything.
To get my mind off it, I decided to do a bit of Strength leveling. A few sit-ups and pushups might do just fine.
God was I ever wrong. I managed a few half-hearted sit-ups, but the pain in my legs was just too much. My creaking knees were killing me.
And as for pushups... the moment I tried to bend my arms, they gave under me and I collapsed to the floor. Luckily, my belly acted as a shock absorber.
I made myself some coffee and walked out onto the balcony. Mechanically my hand reached for my cigarettes but found none.
Unlike all my previous attempts to quit, this time I wasn't upset by their absence. If anything, I felt relieved. I stood on the balcony, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air and washing it down with hot, strong coffee.
Having received my coffee buff, I put on some clean clothes and hurried to my doctor's appointment. I still had some money on my bank card — enough for his fee and also hopefully for any tests the Doc deemed necessary.
She did. The doctor turned out to be a pretty young blonde who didn't bat an eyelid at my rambling story. She asked me a long list of questions, then sent me to have an MRI of the brain which cost an arm and a leg.
"Once you're done, come back to my office with the images," she said. "The way you describe it, it could be anything. I can't diagnose you based on your symptoms alone."
"Thanks," I said, peering at the system message hovering over her head. "Thank you, Olga. Am I to come back to see you once I have the images?"
"Absolutely."
"Very well. Oh, and one more thing. You're very pretty."
Suppressing an embarrassed smile, she pointed at the door.
Yeah right! She could point at the door all she wanted but the system knew better!
I smiled back and walked out. The smile still hovered on my face as I contemplated the system message I'd just received,
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 5/30
This system didn't mess about. Five more compliments, and we might become friends.
I was lucky: the clinic had its own MRI equipment which saved me a trip downtown. I had to wait for my turn but I didn't mind that. I could use a pause. I needed to have a good think and decide what to do next.
I used the chance to check my health points. They seemed to have grown a bit. The bar now read 73,17102% and kept creeping up. This was the best anti-smoking ad I'd ever seen.
It looked like in order to get Yanna back, I might need to first win her love — and her respect. This wasn't a question of whether I wanted to be with her or not. I needed her. Even though my initial feelings for her had somewhat faded over these four years, my love for her had only grown stronger.
And as for winning her respect... I was no expert in women but I had this nagging feeling that this time mere promises and declarations of love wouldn't be enough. I could find out where she lived now, of course. I could send her flowers at work. I could bombard her with texts, stalk her on social media, keep calling her number, shower her with rose petals and beg her forgiveness on a reality TV show.
Wouldn't work. It might have, once. But not now.
Had she had some feelings left for me — yes, maybe. But this mysterious game system didn't lie. What Yanna felt for me was animosity. Which must have had something to do with my being a total jerk, passive, disinterested and perfectly happy with the current state of affairs.
"You're such a loser really," she used to tell me only half-jokingly. "At your age, you still don't have a job. You don't have a car. You don't even have a place of your own! You're thirty years old and you still sponge off your wife, playing games all night long..."
So she hadn't been joking, then. That should have been the first clue. If only I'd realized it then! But no — the only thing that had worried me at the time was whether I could become the server's top rogue, beating some guy called Nurro to the title.
The answer was "no" to both. I hadn't become the top rogue nor had I managed to keep Yanna.
"Panfilov? Come in, please," a voice called from the MRI room.
The fifteen minutes spent motionless in the cramped confines of an MRI capsule echoing with spooky sounds is every claustrophobic's biggest nightmare. Then I had to wait another half-hour for my results. Finally, they handed me an envelope containing images of my gray matter from every possible angle.
Envelope in hand, I returned to the doctor's office.
I reached for the door handle, about to walk in, when a male voice protested from behind me,
"Where do you think you're going? How about waiting your turn?"
My hand still in mid-air, I turned around. A burly man, bald-headed with a wrestler's neck, sat on one of the chairs lining the opposite wall.
A few other patients next to him voiced their indignation,
"What a cheek!" an old lady in a bright-colored headscarf shook a disapproving head.
"You hear what he said? Come and take your place in line," a gum-chewing woman next to her advised rather threateningly. Her plump high-cheekboned face was plastered with a thick layer of makeup.
"I'm not here to see the doctor!" I tried to explain. "I only need to give this to her! I have an appointment!"
"So do we," a frail old man with a goatee protested in a passionate whisper.
"Don't you get fresh with us!" the plump lady raised her voice.
"Right," the burly man stood up. "You heard it. Come and take your place in line. Don't make me lose it with you."
I could understand them. Still, I wasn't going to wait in line twice for the same appointment. All I needed to do was give her the envelope. The appointment times were all screwed up, anyway. I'd had to wait an hour for mine even though I'd arrived on time.
A chain of new system messages flooded my field of vision.
Oh, no.
Your Reputation with Anatoly Magaradze has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Aigul Ramadanova has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Violette Ryzhova has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Mark Zalessky has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
I needed a break. Obediently I stepped away from the door and took my place in line after the frail old man. All the chairs were already taken, so I just leaned against the wall next to him.
I met the burly man's gaze. Aha.
Anatoly Magaradze
Age: 44
Current status: truck driver
Social status level: 9
Class: long-haul truck driver. Level: 7
Married
Wife: Irina Magaradze
Children: none
Criminal record: yes
I spent some time focusing on each of the patients, retrieving the information I needed and planning my next move. It would be terribly unfair to waste my time waiting in line, especially if the images proved there was nothing wrong with me. In which case, I'd have to finally work out the mysterious game's interface, retrieve my stats and come up with a new leveling strategy. One that would allow me to get Yanna back.
Still, I knew very well what I needed to do in order to get her back. I had to find a job and earn my own living. Pretty obvious, I know. Still, that would be the most meaningful sign of my being on the mend. I needed to lose some weight, anyway. The beer diet and sedentary lifestyle had done my waistline — or the absence thereof — no favors.
So what did I know about crowd control? First, you had to surprise them. After that, you had to shock them. Then they'd be eating out of your hand, compliant and perfectly malleable.
And this wasn't even a crowd but only a group of four people united by one goal: to see the doctor in their due time without letting an aggressive intruder jump the line.
The fact that they'd acted so unanimously against me gave me some hope that my idea just might work.
I grabbed at my head. My knees slackened. Slowly I slid to the floor, making unintelligible sounds to attract their attention.
"Is he all right?" asked the gum-chewing lady, a.k.a. Mrs. Aigul Ramadanova.
"Yeah yeah," the burly Mr. Magaradze laughed. "Pull the other one!"
"Mmmmhooomhooo," I enunciated, trying to sound forlorn and desperate.
"God save us," the old Mrs. Violette Ryzhova made the sign of the cross. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me!"
"Ishnu'alaaaaahhhh," I groaned, switching to the Darnassian language of Night Elves.
"He's a demon!" the old Violette pointed her gnarly finger at me. "I assure you! Lord Jesus..."
"Will you please stop your nonsense?" the truck driver interrupted her. "Hey you! Are you okay?"
I didn't reply. Slowly I rose, sliding my back up the wall.
My knee caps crunched clearly in the silence.
I raised my right hand and pointed at the old woman,
"You! Violette Ryzhova! You're a faithful servant of God! Hearken unto me!"
The woman kept crossing herself and whispering prayers, unable to take her eyes off me. She looked almost crippled with fear.
I turned and pointed at the other woman. "You! Aigul Ramadanova! Hearken unto me!"
I turned again. "You!" my index finger very nearly poked the truck driver's forehead. "Anatoly Magaradze, listen to me!"
"And you!" I turned my attention to the frail old man. "Mark Zalessky, sir! I want you to pay attention!"
Ramadanova's mouth opened. The gum dropped to the floor.
The old woman's hand froze mid-air in an unfinished sign of the cross.
The old gentleman seemed to be dangerously close to a stroke.
The burly Magaradze was the only one who hadn't bought it. "What's that for a circus show?"
"Aren't you fed up with trucking?" I asked him in my normal voice. "Your wife Irina must miss you something awful."
I must have touched on a tender spot. He didn't say anything, just clenched his teeth.
"I'm very sorry," I said, clutching my head with both hands. "I have this problem... I can see right through all of you! I don't think my head can take it... Will you please let me see the doctor? Please?"
"I don't mind," Mrs. Ramadanova hurried to agree before I could reveal any more sensitive information about her.
"Let him see the doctor," the old lady echoed.
The burly Magaradze didn't say anything, just nodded at the door.
"Thanks," I whispered voicelessly, taking a place by the door.
"Listen..." Magaradze touched my shoulder. "I don't know your name-"
"It's Phil."
"Listen, Phil... Did you say Irina misses me?"
I stared into his slightly bulging eyes surrounded by a fine net of wrinkles. They were the eyes of a person who'd been around the block a few times.
I paused. "She does. A lot."
He gave me a bear hug. "Thank you! I owe you!"
Without saying goodbye to anyone, he turned round and hurried down the clinic corridor toward the front door.
Your Reputation with Anatoly Magaradze has improved!
Current Reputation: Reverence 10/210
Oh wow. I hadn't done anything special, really. Just told him something he'd probably already known. But what a leap in Reputation, from animosity to reverence!
The doctor's door opened, letting out a patient followed by Olga herself.
"What's with all the noise?" she asked.
No one replied.
She saw me. "Aha. Have you got your images? Come in, I'll take a look."
As I closed the door, I heard Aigul and the old lady Violette embarking on a heated discussion.
I took a seat, waiting for the doctor's verdict. I was shaking, my hands clenched into fists. She studied the images against the light, lowering her head this way and that. Finally, she heaved a sigh and started writing.
So what was wrong with me, then? Was I nuts? Or just hallucinating? Did I have a brain tumor?
"And?" I finally managed with a dry throat.
"You're perfectly fine," she gave me a studying look. "Relatively speaking. You're overweight. Marginally obese, to be frank. So you need to take better care of yourself. You need to eat less and exercise more. At your age, you shouldn't let it get out of hand."
She kept going on about the obesity-related dangers of an early stroke and heart disease. Finally I interrupted her,
"I'm sorry! I promise I'll watch my diet and start a healthy lifestyle. I already went for a run yesterday. And I quit smoking. But please tell me," I pointed at my temple, "am I all right... there?"
"Oh, absolutely fine. No problems at all. I can't see any abnormalities. Your blood pressure is a bit on the high side but nothing you should worry about."
"Thank you so much! You're an angel!"
On impulse I grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.
Her cheeks flushed.
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 10/30
"All right, all right, that's enough," she said, smiling. "You can go now."
Without taking my eyes off her, I rose, trying to imbue my gaze with all the joy I felt and all the happiness at the fact that nothing was wrong with me after all. She didn't avert her gaze, as if teasing and encouraging me.
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 15/30
Oh wow. I tried to pull myself together and headed for the door.
As I opened it, I turned back to her. "Thanks a lot, Lola."
Her dropped jaw made a funny sound. I walked out.
A small crowd heaved by the door outside: the same familiar patients plus several more who must have just arrived.
"There he is!" Aigul shouted.
"Saint Phil, glory be to thee!" the old lady enthused.
"Phil! Phil!" the crowd cried out, reaching out to grab my hands, touch my shoulders or stroke my face.
It looked like I'd made a big mistake. You couldn't play with people's feelings the way I'd just done. Especially not with sick or old people — and they were all either sick or old here.
I raised my hands in the air. The crowd parted.
"You, Aigul!" I said in the surrounding silence. And you, Violette! And you," I peered into the crowd, calling out their names one by one. "Listen to me, all of you! Hearken unto me!"
I could hear Olga strain her voice behind her office door, calling the next patient.
"You! All of you! You're all going to be happy! Yes! Happiness for everybody, free! No one will go away unsatisfied!"
Having thus prophesized, I promptly left the building.
Enough playing tricks on unsuspecting citizens. I was worse than a child, really.
As I walked back home, the system kept showering me with Reputation reports from Aigul, Mark, Violette and lots of other people I didn't even know. And then...
And then I received a new level!
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Your current social status level: 6
Characteristic points available: 1
Skill points available: 1
It was time I finally sorted out the interface.
J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
LATER, I COULD barely remember how I'd gotten back home after my night run. I'd walked along the city streets, then hitched a ride with some early-morning gypsy cab. I must have fallen asleep; I remember rummaging through my pockets for any loose change as I hadn't had enough to pay him. I remember peeling off my soggy clothes and dropping them on the bedroom floor. I then collapsed onto the bed and pressed my face to Yanna's pillow.
Just before falling asleep, I somehow remembered to set the alarm for 9.30 the next morning. I had a doctor's appointment at 11 a.m.
When the alarm awoke me, I was about to hit snooze, then remembered the appointment and shot out of bed.
"Shot out" was probably a bit of an overstatement. I'd indeed sprung out of bed, then promptly collapsed on top of it. Diagnosis: an acute case of Phil-itosis.
My whole body hurt as if some vicious warlock had cast several DOTs on me, flattened me repeatedly under a press, then thrown me into the path of a herd of Siberian mammoths.
Trying to move slowly, I somehow made it to the bathroom. I took a shower, gingerly touching my smarting body which felt completely dead after last-night's marathon. After an equally careful shave and a cautious tickle of the toothbrush, I felt marginally better.
My chest groaned with the sense of loss. I missed Yanna something rotten. I missed her voice and her "Breakfast's ready!" My hands kept reaching for the phone, desperate to dial her number.
Still, I forced myself to stay calm. I wasn't ready yet. Nor was she. By calling her now, I could ruin everything.
To get my mind off it, I decided to do a bit of Strength leveling. A few sit-ups and pushups might do just fine.
God was I ever wrong. I managed a few half-hearted sit-ups, but the pain in my legs was just too much. My creaking knees were killing me.
And as for pushups... the moment I tried to bend my arms, they gave under me and I collapsed to the floor. Luckily, my belly acted as a shock absorber.
I made myself some coffee and walked out onto the balcony. Mechanically my hand reached for my cigarettes but found none.
Unlike all my previous attempts to quit, this time I wasn't upset by their absence. If anything, I felt relieved. I stood on the balcony, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air and washing it down with hot, strong coffee.
Having received my coffee buff, I put on some clean clothes and hurried to my doctor's appointment. I still had some money on my bank card — enough for his fee and also hopefully for any tests the Doc deemed necessary.
She did. The doctor turned out to be a pretty young blonde who didn't bat an eyelid at my rambling story. She asked me a long list of questions, then sent me to have an MRI of the brain which cost an arm and a leg.
"Once you're done, come back to my office with the images," she said. "The way you describe it, it could be anything. I can't diagnose you based on your symptoms alone."
"Thanks," I said, peering at the system message hovering over her head. "Thank you, Olga. Am I to come back to see you once I have the images?"
"Absolutely."
"Very well. Oh, and one more thing. You're very pretty."
Suppressing an embarrassed smile, she pointed at the door.
Yeah right! She could point at the door all she wanted but the system knew better!
I smiled back and walked out. The smile still hovered on my face as I contemplated the system message I'd just received,
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 5/30
This system didn't mess about. Five more compliments, and we might become friends.
I was lucky: the clinic had its own MRI equipment which saved me a trip downtown. I had to wait for my turn but I didn't mind that. I could use a pause. I needed to have a good think and decide what to do next.
I used the chance to check my health points. They seemed to have grown a bit. The bar now read 73,17102% and kept creeping up. This was the best anti-smoking ad I'd ever seen.
It looked like in order to get Yanna back, I might need to first win her love — and her respect. This wasn't a question of whether I wanted to be with her or not. I needed her. Even though my initial feelings for her had somewhat faded over these four years, my love for her had only grown stronger.
And as for winning her respect... I was no expert in women but I had this nagging feeling that this time mere promises and declarations of love wouldn't be enough. I could find out where she lived now, of course. I could send her flowers at work. I could bombard her with texts, stalk her on social media, keep calling her number, shower her with rose petals and beg her forgiveness on a reality TV show.
Wouldn't work. It might have, once. But not now.
Had she had some feelings left for me — yes, maybe. But this mysterious game system didn't lie. What Yanna felt for me was animosity. Which must have had something to do with my being a total jerk, passive, disinterested and perfectly happy with the current state of affairs.
"You're such a loser really," she used to tell me only half-jokingly. "At your age, you still don't have a job. You don't have a car. You don't even have a place of your own! You're thirty years old and you still sponge off your wife, playing games all night long..."
So she hadn't been joking, then. That should have been the first clue. If only I'd realized it then! But no — the only thing that had worried me at the time was whether I could become the server's top rogue, beating some guy called Nurro to the title.
The answer was "no" to both. I hadn't become the top rogue nor had I managed to keep Yanna.
"Panfilov? Come in, please," a voice called from the MRI room.
The fifteen minutes spent motionless in the cramped confines of an MRI capsule echoing with spooky sounds is every claustrophobic's biggest nightmare. Then I had to wait another half-hour for my results. Finally, they handed me an envelope containing images of my gray matter from every possible angle.
Envelope in hand, I returned to the doctor's office.
I reached for the door handle, about to walk in, when a male voice protested from behind me,
"Where do you think you're going? How about waiting your turn?"
My hand still in mid-air, I turned around. A burly man, bald-headed with a wrestler's neck, sat on one of the chairs lining the opposite wall.
A few other patients next to him voiced their indignation,
"What a cheek!" an old lady in a bright-colored headscarf shook a disapproving head.
"You hear what he said? Come and take your place in line," a gum-chewing woman next to her advised rather threateningly. Her plump high-cheekboned face was plastered with a thick layer of makeup.
"I'm not here to see the doctor!" I tried to explain. "I only need to give this to her! I have an appointment!"
"So do we," a frail old man with a goatee protested in a passionate whisper.
"Don't you get fresh with us!" the plump lady raised her voice.
"Right," the burly man stood up. "You heard it. Come and take your place in line. Don't make me lose it with you."
I could understand them. Still, I wasn't going to wait in line twice for the same appointment. All I needed to do was give her the envelope. The appointment times were all screwed up, anyway. I'd had to wait an hour for mine even though I'd arrived on time.
A chain of new system messages flooded my field of vision.
Oh, no.
Your Reputation with Anatoly Magaradze has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Aigul Ramadanova has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Violette Ryzhova has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
Your Reputation with Mark Zalessky has decreased!
Current Reputation: Animosity 20/30
I needed a break. Obediently I stepped away from the door and took my place in line after the frail old man. All the chairs were already taken, so I just leaned against the wall next to him.
I met the burly man's gaze. Aha.
Anatoly Magaradze
Age: 44
Current status: truck driver
Social status level: 9
Class: long-haul truck driver. Level: 7
Married
Wife: Irina Magaradze
Children: none
Criminal record: yes
I spent some time focusing on each of the patients, retrieving the information I needed and planning my next move. It would be terribly unfair to waste my time waiting in line, especially if the images proved there was nothing wrong with me. In which case, I'd have to finally work out the mysterious game's interface, retrieve my stats and come up with a new leveling strategy. One that would allow me to get Yanna back.
Still, I knew very well what I needed to do in order to get her back. I had to find a job and earn my own living. Pretty obvious, I know. Still, that would be the most meaningful sign of my being on the mend. I needed to lose some weight, anyway. The beer diet and sedentary lifestyle had done my waistline — or the absence thereof — no favors.
So what did I know about crowd control? First, you had to surprise them. After that, you had to shock them. Then they'd be eating out of your hand, compliant and perfectly malleable.
And this wasn't even a crowd but only a group of four people united by one goal: to see the doctor in their due time without letting an aggressive intruder jump the line.
The fact that they'd acted so unanimously against me gave me some hope that my idea just might work.
I grabbed at my head. My knees slackened. Slowly I slid to the floor, making unintelligible sounds to attract their attention.
"Is he all right?" asked the gum-chewing lady, a.k.a. Mrs. Aigul Ramadanova.
"Yeah yeah," the burly Mr. Magaradze laughed. "Pull the other one!"
"Mmmmhooomhooo," I enunciated, trying to sound forlorn and desperate.
"God save us," the old Mrs. Violette Ryzhova made the sign of the cross. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me!"
"Ishnu'alaaaaahhhh," I groaned, switching to the Darnassian language of Night Elves.
"He's a demon!" the old Violette pointed her gnarly finger at me. "I assure you! Lord Jesus..."
"Will you please stop your nonsense?" the truck driver interrupted her. "Hey you! Are you okay?"
I didn't reply. Slowly I rose, sliding my back up the wall.
My knee caps crunched clearly in the silence.
I raised my right hand and pointed at the old woman,
"You! Violette Ryzhova! You're a faithful servant of God! Hearken unto me!"
The woman kept crossing herself and whispering prayers, unable to take her eyes off me. She looked almost crippled with fear.
I turned and pointed at the other woman. "You! Aigul Ramadanova! Hearken unto me!"
I turned again. "You!" my index finger very nearly poked the truck driver's forehead. "Anatoly Magaradze, listen to me!"
"And you!" I turned my attention to the frail old man. "Mark Zalessky, sir! I want you to pay attention!"
Ramadanova's mouth opened. The gum dropped to the floor.
The old woman's hand froze mid-air in an unfinished sign of the cross.
The old gentleman seemed to be dangerously close to a stroke.
The burly Magaradze was the only one who hadn't bought it. "What's that for a circus show?"
"Aren't you fed up with trucking?" I asked him in my normal voice. "Your wife Irina must miss you something awful."
I must have touched on a tender spot. He didn't say anything, just clenched his teeth.
"I'm very sorry," I said, clutching my head with both hands. "I have this problem... I can see right through all of you! I don't think my head can take it... Will you please let me see the doctor? Please?"
"I don't mind," Mrs. Ramadanova hurried to agree before I could reveal any more sensitive information about her.
"Let him see the doctor," the old lady echoed.
The burly Magaradze didn't say anything, just nodded at the door.
"Thanks," I whispered voicelessly, taking a place by the door.
"Listen..." Magaradze touched my shoulder. "I don't know your name-"
"It's Phil."
"Listen, Phil... Did you say Irina misses me?"
I stared into his slightly bulging eyes surrounded by a fine net of wrinkles. They were the eyes of a person who'd been around the block a few times.
I paused. "She does. A lot."
He gave me a bear hug. "Thank you! I owe you!"
Without saying goodbye to anyone, he turned round and hurried down the clinic corridor toward the front door.
Your Reputation with Anatoly Magaradze has improved!
Current Reputation: Reverence 10/210
Oh wow. I hadn't done anything special, really. Just told him something he'd probably already known. But what a leap in Reputation, from animosity to reverence!
The doctor's door opened, letting out a patient followed by Olga herself.
"What's with all the noise?" she asked.
No one replied.
She saw me. "Aha. Have you got your images? Come in, I'll take a look."
As I closed the door, I heard Aigul and the old lady Violette embarking on a heated discussion.
I took a seat, waiting for the doctor's verdict. I was shaking, my hands clenched into fists. She studied the images against the light, lowering her head this way and that. Finally, she heaved a sigh and started writing.
So what was wrong with me, then? Was I nuts? Or just hallucinating? Did I have a brain tumor?
"And?" I finally managed with a dry throat.
"You're perfectly fine," she gave me a studying look. "Relatively speaking. You're overweight. Marginally obese, to be frank. So you need to take better care of yourself. You need to eat less and exercise more. At your age, you shouldn't let it get out of hand."
She kept going on about the obesity-related dangers of an early stroke and heart disease. Finally I interrupted her,
"I'm sorry! I promise I'll watch my diet and start a healthy lifestyle. I already went for a run yesterday. And I quit smoking. But please tell me," I pointed at my temple, "am I all right... there?"
"Oh, absolutely fine. No problems at all. I can't see any abnormalities. Your blood pressure is a bit on the high side but nothing you should worry about."
"Thank you so much! You're an angel!"
On impulse I grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.
Her cheeks flushed.
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 10/30
"All right, all right, that's enough," she said, smiling. "You can go now."
Without taking my eyes off her, I rose, trying to imbue my gaze with all the joy I felt and all the happiness at the fact that nothing was wrong with me after all. She didn't avert her gaze, as if teasing and encouraging me.
Your Reputation with Olga "Lola" Shvedova has improved!
Current Reputation: Indifference 15/30
Oh wow. I tried to pull myself together and headed for the door.
As I opened it, I turned back to her. "Thanks a lot, Lola."
Her dropped jaw made a funny sound. I walked out.
A small crowd heaved by the door outside: the same familiar patients plus several more who must have just arrived.
"There he is!" Aigul shouted.
"Saint Phil, glory be to thee!" the old lady enthused.
"Phil! Phil!" the crowd cried out, reaching out to grab my hands, touch my shoulders or stroke my face.
It looked like I'd made a big mistake. You couldn't play with people's feelings the way I'd just done. Especially not with sick or old people — and they were all either sick or old here.
I raised my hands in the air. The crowd parted.
"You, Aigul!" I said in the surrounding silence. And you, Violette! And you," I peered into the crowd, calling out their names one by one. "Listen to me, all of you! Hearken unto me!"
I could hear Olga strain her voice behind her office door, calling the next patient.
"You! All of you! You're all going to be happy! Yes! Happiness for everybody, free! No one will go away unsatisfied!"
Having thus prophesized, I promptly left the building.
Enough playing tricks on unsuspecting citizens. I was worse than a child, really.
As I walked back home, the system kept showering me with Reputation reports from Aigul, Mark, Violette and lots of other people I didn't even know. And then...
And then I received a new level!
Congratulations! You've received a new level!
Your current social status level: 6
Characteristic points available: 1
Skill points available: 1
It was time I finally sorted out the interface.
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