AlterWorld

I was sitting there, happily stuffed, and finishing my second beer when the door opened letting in a strange couple. The man, tall and burly, bristling with weapons and armor, stomped in with a slim Elfa in his wake. She scampered along, clinging to the man's hand.

Replying to the patrons' greetings as he walked, the man brought the Elfa to the large gong in the center of the room. He reached for the mallet and offered it to the girl, smiling. As he nodded, she squeezed her eyes shut and hit the gong with all her negligible might. BAAAANG!

The sound still echoed in the corners when the patrons jumped up, applauding. The locals seemed all to know what was going on. Only a couple of strangers like myself stared around with confused smiles.

The man raised his hand asking for silence. "My friends. As you have all gathered, we have a newcomer. Let's be grateful to the perma effect for our second lives and for this adorable young lady."

The audience cheered and raised their mugs. The burly man went on, "Just think I was leaving through the West Gate yesterday morning and who do I see but this lovely newblette. Sitting there hugging bu

The room burst into healthy laughter. The girl blushed and attempted to hide behind the man's wide back. Two brutal-looking female warriors, all leather and blades, started elbowing their way toward her from the back tables. They fussed around the girl, whispering, stroking and soothing.

"So! Last night I was coming back from war, same road, same gate. And there she was, the poor wretch, still level one, chasing butterflies. Really fu

The girl faltered for a moment. Then she plucked up courage and spoke softly.

"My name's Lana. I'm eighteen. Cerebral palsy since birth. When my parents learned that I wouldn't walk, they gave me up to an institution and legally disowned me. When I turned eighteen, I was supposed to get social housing. But the new law had changed it to a monetary compensation. Which stretches nowhere. I had some friends who promised to help me. They took the money and disappeared. I… I was reading the handicapped persons' forum looking for some painless ways to end my life. And I found this perma thread there instead. I asked a few questions, the forum members suggested a few names and addresses. I went to some underground perma parlor. They gave me some papers to sign. I gave them the rest of the money. So here I am…"

The girl gave the room a timid smile. The burly warrior patted her shoulder, removed his gold-gleaming bracelet and slid it onto the girl's wrist. Immediately the bracelet shrank to fit, as if it had always belonged to her.

"A gift. Otherwise it might take you some time to buy anything if you limit your leveling skills to bu

The audience clamored their approval. A line of givers formed, giving the girl a thin purple-bladed dagger, a stack of gold pieces; someone placed a pair of earrings on the table in front of her, then a ring, and yet another ring, glistening with a strange-looking gem.

I had nothing to give her but I got an idea. I walked out the door and came back in a minute with a bunch of little plain blue flowers that grew along the fence. They pleased the Elfa a lot. She blushed and hid her face in the flowers, apparently unaccustomed to human attention.

My knees gave way as a heavy hand slapped my shoulder. The burly man, already nursing a beer mug, gave me a wide smile. "Well done. I'm sure she'll appreciate that. Here, we're forgetting that girls want flowers, not cold steel."

Now was a chance to talk to a local. A digitized local.

"I'm afraid that's all I have," I nodded at my table. "Fancy another beer?"

He looked me over. "Well, if you're serious…"

He slouched in his seat, made a complex sign to the bar tender and turned to me. "What's that about?"

"It's my first day in the game. Just curious."

"So why are you sitting in a bar instead of hunting? Any idea what kind of folk we have here?"

I nodded. "Personally, I've got nowhere to hurry to. Got loads of time. Enough to do everything."

The warrior gri

"Yeah. Unforeseen health problems. But provided it all works out, it could even be for the better. I seem to like it here."

"Well, whatever you say," the man echoed.

"What's go

"Which clan?"

"The," I tried to remember, 'the Olders."

The man snorted. "Who told you I'm one of them?"

Shit. I'd completely forgotten that default settings showed nothing but a player's name.

I opened the menu and ticked a few boxes. Now if you concentrated while looking at a player, a prompt popped up over their head,

Eric. Level 109. Veterans.

Veterans had to be his clan name.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that the i

"Never mind," Eric said amiably. "You're right about the old farts. They own quite a lot here. In any case, they prefer to stay in their clan castles or in their mansions within the gold line. You won't see them in a bar. They have their own watering holes. Fucking sharks. You see, it's all those old boys, some successful businessmen, a few millionaires even. They all decided to start a new life. They shit money. They transfer some of it to AlterWorld and use it to buy and sell. And build. Actually, they've been quite useful with their money-making mentality. They can't help it. They've set up a proper bank as an alternative to the game one. A post office, texting services…"

My ear caught the familiar word, "Texting? You mean, texting the real world? From a real cell phone? How d'you do it?"

"How d'you think? Elementary. You PM a player positioning as Text—that's his nickname. In the message, you put the phone number and the text. And transfer him a gold piece. He sends your message to the number provided. It's not just one player, of course. It's a whole business."

The mind boggles. Weren't these guys great. But a gold piece… Was it the only price tag they had?

Eric watched my discouraged face. "Too pricey for you still?"

"Not exactly. The price is probably right. But I've just paid the only piece of gold I've farmed for a room. I've got another one that came with a quest I didn't ask for. But I'd rather keep it for a rainy day. You can't expect this sort of luck too often."

"Was it a girl you wanted to text?"

"No. Mother. She's worried sick, you know. For our parents we never grow. And she can't work out all this game shit."

Eric fell silent for a moment. "Go ahead, type it. I've got a subscription. You pay fifty gold a month and can text a novel if you want."

"Thanks, dude," I dictated a quick message saying that everything was fine, that I had it all worked out and lived in a good hotel. My headaches were gone and my appetite was back.

On hearing that last bit, Eric smiled but sort of sadly. "Just like back home. My mom was the same. I was an active-duty officer, six foot four, and she was checking if I was wearing warm underpants and whether I'd packed her homemade meatballs."