Wherever he had ended up by taking the offered number, this was a much more serious place than his apartment building on Irony Avenue. For a moment, Noah felt the urge to act as he used to—step outside and look around. Especially since this city wasn't Venice and probably looked completely different... but, feeling eyes watching him, he changed his mind.

  A spacious walnut-colored reception area was set up in the huge foyer of polished marble, wedged between a couple of gleaming stairwell landings and slightly less dazzling marble statues. Lily-shaped lamps tore various parts of the reception and foyer out of the shadows, lending them a strange intimacy. Noah noticed that in the more distant recesses of the foyer, small alcoves with armchairs and sofas had been set up, some already occupied by people discussing something among themselves.

  But they weren't the ones watching Noah curiously.

  Gathered behind the wide reception desk were four women who, judging by their postures, were doing whatever their hearts desired, but not attending to visitors. Looking around more carefully, Noah even understood the reason for their casualness. He was the only one who had emerged from the teleportation zone. As if visitors like him were a rarity.

  On the other hand, as he approached the desk, the women snapped to attention. Three of them stepped back from the fourth, who instantly straightened up, hastily pushed a few open magazines aside, and stared at Noah like a deer blinded by car headlights. Except this deer also shifted slightly on its heels, as if impatient to do its job...

  A job for which she wasn't paid.

  "Welcome to the Avarenta Communications Center! How may I help you?"

  For a moment, Noah hesitated. He had already decided to cause problems for Potato by asking for him without mentioning the Sages of Ages, even if it caused problems for those working at reception. Because what could be better than all your colleagues calling you by an embarrassing nickname, right?..

  On the other hand, this woman seemed very pleasant. Even her name on the badge sounded pleasant—Melody. She probably worked this job only because she craved new impressions, and Noah certainly didn't intend to punish her in Potato's place... but what if she also wanted to experience all the negative aspects of this job? Who was he to deprive her of such an opportunity?

  Thinking for a moment, Noah decided to take the path of the lesser evil.

  He smiled reservedly at the woman. Like a true gentleman.

  "Good afternoon. I'm looking for Fresh Potato."

  "Yes, of cour... se... " The voice died on the woman's lips, and her eyes became especially vacant for a moment. She blinked. Noah also blinked, patiently waiting for his Potato. Or at least directions on how to find one.

  The women hiding behind Melody's back covered their mouths with their palms, looking anywhere but at Noah or their friend. No one in this place dared to laugh out loud yet.

  "Did... did you recently arrive in Regia?" Melody finally pulled herself together.

  "Oh, yes. Most likely yesterday," Noah nodded. "Or early this morning. I'm still having trouble keeping track of time."

  "Yes, I understand," she nodded sympathetically. "B...but you should also know that you really won't find fresh potatoes here. You'd have better luck looking in a shopping... ah... no, that won't work either. There are no shopping centers in Regia..."

  With each word, Melody's face reddened more and more, which hinted to Noah that she herself had quite recently started life in Regia and hadn't yet managed to shed some living habits.

  Panicking, the woman glanced back at her friends, who were trying their best not to burst out laughing.

  "No shopping centers. I understand," Noah nodded calmly, materializing a phone in his palm. "But I was told I could find Fresh Potato at this very address. Let's see... number 004-0017-00244. Correct?"

  Melody paused briefly, checking something below the table surface where Noah could see nothing.

  "That's... our number," she confirmed.

  "Great. And the message also says that I should ask for Fresh Potato at the reception," Noah said.

  Under normal circumstances, such a lie would be extremely difficult, as the deceased's mind sluggishly yielded to the distortion of facts. But Noah had practiced before coming.

  Melody's gaze clouded over again, as if her brain were fighting reality. However, the other three women instantly became serious, as if suddenly realising.

  "Excuse me, are you asking about a person who calls himself Fresh Potato?" one of them asked, stepping closer to the desk.

  Noah paused for a moment, then raised the phone closer to his eyes, as if he had trouble reading.

  "Oh. You're right. Fresh Potato is written here with capital letters," he confirmed. "I'm very sorry. My mistake."

  "Call the YouTube broadcast relay team," the woman prompted Melody. "I guess it's their prank again."

  Then she glanced at Noah and smiled. Seeing a poorly concealed threat beneath that smile, Noah also smiled innocently. Like a newcomer caught in someone else's prank.

  Mission accomplished.

  * * *

  He was given a guest card with a name and undoubtedly an embedded tracking chip. One of Melody's friends volunteered to escort him to the twenty-first floor. Judging by how she didn't allow Noah to touch the elevator panel, he was destined to travel ONLY to the twenty-first floor and nowhere else. The Avarenta Communications Center belonged to a guild. Although Noah hadn't seen a single guard yet, his intuition whispered that Melody's helpers had somehow acquired more than one IP. Some minimum that allowed them to deal with particularly annoying, or even aggressive, clients. Of course, no one displayed their IP publicly, nor did they ask. Noah was a little afraid that Melody would ask, but his fears didn't come true.

  Did that mean he could return here without problems, even being in the fourth or fifth category?..

  The elevator suddenly jolted and began to brake. Warm white light flickered; after a moment, blue light ignited, dyeing Noah's escort's face in strange hues. The woman glanced at the young man, confused. Noah looked at the lights in the elevator ceiling, quietly pondering cosmic-scale coincidences.

  First the teleport, now the elevator too?

  Either he was surrounded by an invisible aura that ruined all nearby equipment, or someone at reception had gotten the idea to check Noah's information. And just received an answer from the FIC, with his entire short biography.

  Karma. Potato revenge...

  "Don't worry, this happens occasionally," the woman whose card bore the name Karin told him. Professional lie. An even more professional voice, betraying no real emotions. Her IP was probably high.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Mhm, I'm in no hurry," Noah nodded. "Did you bring a good book by any chance?"

  Before she could answer, the white lights came back on, and the elevator jerked into motion.

  Fixed quickly. As if with the push of a button.

  Soon, the elevator reached the desired floor and this time stopped much more smoothly, without the light show. Noah expected to see a few men in bulletproof vests and barrels aimed at his head. But nothing of the sort. Before them opened a wide corridor where the most diverse people were bustling about their business. No soldiers. On the other hand, Noah thought he glimpsed a few individuals who were watching him intently as he stepped out of the elevator.

  "This way, please," Karin redirected Noah's attention, almost dragging him down the corridor by the hand.

  A devilishly long corridor, which also probably didn't physically fit into the building itself. Unless all buildings in Avarenta were Versailles-sized.

  Soon they reached a door marked with the number five and the uninformative inscription "YTB-R". Karina pushed them open without knocking. They entered a gigantic room, divided by thin, almost paper-like partitions into dozens of smaller sectors. In some sectors, dozens of servers hummed quietly. In others, people hunched over computers were discussing something. In still other sectors, excited shouts echoed, and some video game scenes flickered on screens.

  Karin looked around and waved to a person who was loitering in the aisle between sectors, waiting for something. A man in his forties... or so his appearance suggested. As soon as he saw Noah, he smiled broadly and quickly approached, extending his hand in greeting:

  "Nice to meet you! Do you know how few participants in the Sphere think to use a tablet the way you did?"

  "Probably not many," Noah shrugged slightly, shaking the offered hand. "And you greet all of them here?"

  "All whom we manage to invite. I'm Ronan, by the way!"

  "One moment, Ronan," Karin addressed the man. "A couple of words beyond the door?"

  "Can't it wait?.. No? Okay then. Noah, wait for me a minute! I'm very sorry."

  And so it begins. She probably will inform Ronan about what was dug up about me...

  Soon, the man returned, scratching the back of his head. Karin had already gone. Ronan looked at Noah somewhat strangely.

  "Did you... Did you ask for me by my nickname when you arrived at the reception?" he asked in a quiet voice.

  "Hm?" Noah pretended not to understand the question for a moment, then widened his eyes and nervously rubbed his neck, as if embarrassed. "Oh, I probably mixed it up because I was very nervous. Yes, I think I told them I was looking for Fresh Potato... Ah, now I understand why they looked at me so strangely... damn!"

  "Well, it's alright," Ronan cleared his throat, no less embarrassed. "My fault for not writing my name in the invitation."

  "Of course it's your fault," Noah agreed mentally. "And your fault goes much further than mine."

  * * *

  The Sages of Ages, it seemed, had their own separate sector. With more desks and computers than people. Six pairs of eyes, not counting Ronan's, looked at Noah curiously.

  "And here is our hero!" Ronan clapped Noah on the back, having already managed to forget about the misunderstanding at reception. "Since you couldn't see our faces, meet Eliah Prentice, aka Frozen Drunkard. He's a real American!"

  "Pleasure. I'm Eliah," a very gaunt man extended his hand to shake Noah's. "But you can call me Drunkard if you want."

  "I'm Ivan," another very athletic-looking guy in brown sweats extended his hand. "By the way, I'm really from Burbash, Russia."

  "Ah... Ivan From Burbash," Noah recognized.

  "Yep. You must drink with me now," Ivan smiled crookedly. "Later, I'll show you where to find the best hole with the best poisons."

  "Easy now," a short, round, balding man interjected, pushing Ivan aside. "We don't need another Ivan in this den. Noah will be enough. Welcome, Noah. Condolences on passing the DS test. I'm Nudist. Remember me?"

  "Just Nudist?" Noah clarified. "You were the first to offer me real help..."

  "Good memory," Nudist praised him. "And yes, everyone here calls me Nudist, so I don't even bother with a real name."

  "He rarely bothers with clothes either," Ivan snorted. "He's dressed now because there was no other choice. Either behave properly or sit behind the wall..."

  "Another unnecessary shell," Nudist snorted dismissively. "Just like skin. I'd gladly show everyone just my skeleton, but since I've never seen it myself, it's hard for me to accurately convey the radiance of my white bones."

  "Buddy, you're really not making a good impression right now," Ivan shook his head. "Not one bit. Such things should be said after you've been friends with someone for at least ten years."

  Noah watched the friendly banter, gradually getting into the atmosphere.

  "And why condolences, if I passed the test?" he asked.

  "What else would you expect?" Nudist looked at him. "An unnatural result. You should have entered the Flow, like all other God's creatures. To reach the Flow's estuary and purify yourself in it. If not for the Sphere, you'd be lying happy in diapers now, suckling on your new mother's teat, instead of communicating with this gang of degenerates..."

  "Alright, now you've really gone too far," Ronan nudged Nudist aside. "And since when did you become religious?"

  "I'm not religious! It's just a saying!"

  While they argued, Noah shook hands with Petra—the only woman in the current company. As well as with Kenji, who immediately admitted to being from Japan.

  Now, Noah knew what a Japanese person speaking Lithuanian without any accent looked like.

  It turned out the Sages of Ages group had many more members—almost thirty. Since Noah decided to arrive unannounced, many of them were either resting or busy elsewhere.

  * * *

  "So, all of you in this place watched my progress... " Noah drew out.

  Ronan, aka Fresh Potato, shook his head smiling.

  "No, Noah. What happens in the Dream Sphere cannot be observed here. Only Gaudemunda can do that, and she doesn't let anyone else near the system. Our job is slightly different. Since the internet connection in the Sphere still works, there are test participants who occasionally do exactly what you did. What we all did. They upload videos to the network. Our job is to catch and isolate each such video so that random residents of Regia don't stumble upon them. Otherwise, they could ruin the test."

  "But you yourselves advised me as if it were nothing."

  "A couple of innocent words," Ivan shrugged. "We really would be curious what would happen if some test participant took a plunge into the abyss."

  "Or descended into the abyss with a cage," Eliah added. "No one has filmed that yet."

  "Maybe they have. But didn't have the opportunity to share the recording," Petra said. "How would you upload a video of yourself jumping into the abyss?"

  "Fair," Ronan agreed.

  "I hope you're not angry that we didn't offer you help?" Petra asked Noah. "Because we really can't. The rules are strict. Every comment on an isolated video is checked, in case someone from the team accidentally blurted out something unnecessary."

  "I am angry," Noah nodded. "Not for the lack of help, but precisely for that suggestion to plunge into the abyss. Because for a moment I did think about it."

  "Oh god, he's angry!" Petra exclaimed. "Quick, bring the gift!"

  Ivan jumped up and ran out the door. Ronan covered himself with papers.

  "I... can I undress and divert his attention?" Nudist offered helpfully.

  "Don't you dare!"

  Noah watched the commotion curiously. He really wasn't as angry as he pretended. A bit annoyed—perhaps. But only because someone in this guild had checked his data and triggered a small alarm. Luckily, this alarm hadn't reached the Sages. They were behaving as if Noah were still an ordinary citizen of Regia, not an anomaly with sixteen IP.

  Soon Ivan returned with a flat cardboard box under his arm. Kneeling on one knee, he presented it to Noah, like some offering.

  "Accept it, oh Noah, for all our sins and... and..."

  "Accept and appease your anger," Petra prompted.

  "Yeah, that!" Ivan continued holding out the box. "Appease your resentment, too!"

  "And hatred," Ronan stuck his head out from behind the papers. "We all wanted only good!"

  "The best! So you'd jump into the abyss and be carried into the Flow, where you'd be reborn as a fat, soiled baby," Nudist wiped away a tear.

  "Dude," Petra shot a look at Nudist, "for once you said something right. Even if it didn't sound great."

  Ivan shifted on his knees closer to Noah and shoved the box into his hands. Looked meaningfully into his eyes.

  "Will you drink with me?.."