My eyelids are so stuck together they could only be pried open with a crane. I desperately want to sleep, but no... I have to get up, get ready for work, there are a couple of important meetings today... Meetings?I open my eyes to find myself in a dark, damp room. The air seems saturated with dust. The only light source is a small window above my head. The room is long, with parts of the roof missing. I realize it's the same barn I saw when I first entered the city... How I wish I could return to my dream! Or better yet, to my own planet. Memories of the wormhole, the fall, the interface merging with my nervous system, and becoming enslaved flood back mercilessly. Oh right, I'm a slave now. Just wonderful!The last thing I remember is the second lash of the whip as punishment for desertion. There were supposed to be fifteen. How am I even alive after that? My back hurts, but feels intact when I touch it - no torn flesh. What's going on?I see no one who could answer this question. Mentally cursing, I get up and go outside. The light blinds me for a moment, then I see the same scene: lonely, downtrodden people, guards, a square, and an enormously high stone wall. I notice I've been dressed in the same gray robe as all the other slaves, with a heavy metal collar around my neck."Sleep through your work time once more and you'll get a new portion of lashes - I'll personally see to it!" thunders the voice of one of the guards. "And no healing serum will help you then! Why waste it on bozoprats? I don't get it...""What serum? And who are bozoprats?" I really don't understand anything this world keeps throwing at me."Healing serum, so you don't die from the flogging. It's more for disciplinary purposes, though rarely anyone stays conscious after more than three lashes, ha-ha!" The guard starts laughing loudly. What a bunch of comedians, damn it."And why heal us?" I wonder. Indeed, why? We're just slaves here, trash - what else can we be called?"We need the workforce! And someone sturdy with a pretty face like yours might even get bought. Now enough chatter, go to the distributor for your work assignment."The conversation is clearly over, and it's best not to anger him further, so I nod and hurry off in the indicated direction. Contrary to my expectation, the distributor isn't another overseer, but a slave like me. Before me stands a thin, trembling young man, clearly about six years younger than me, dressed in the familiar gray robe with a purple band on his right arm - apparently some kind of distinguishing mark for distributors.What the hell am I even doing with this nonsense? I need to get out of here, and fast. Home! I need to go home!Suddenly I realize I perfectly understand the language of all these people, even though I'm clearly not in modern Russia! Ni, confess, is this your doing?A universal translator is built into me. It easily decodes any speech and allows the user to speak freely in any language.Incredible, but do I really need to communicate with these bozoprats... Wait, bozoprats? I meant to say... I see. Now I understand what that damn word means."I was told to come to you for work," I say out loud, almost against my will, trying to smile amicably at the slave-distributor.The young man raises his faded, utterly expressionless eyes to me. Such a gaze is terrifying, though I've already seen a lot in my life. There's more emptiness in his eyes than in the cosmic void. He's simultaneously dead and alive. I wonder how long he's been here? God, I don't want to become like that..."Right along the building and right again, you work in the gardens," the boy says, providing the absolute minimum of information before turning away as if I've already left, as if I no longer exist for him, like everything else in this world."Hey, what's your name at least?" Silence. "And why aren't you working too?" Silence. "Why are you here? How did you get here?" Before me stands someone who could give me at least some answers to my numerous questions, who could bring me at least a little closer to solving the mystery surrounding me. I'll shower him with questions until..."I'm just... on duty today..." That's the entire answer I get.I couldn't get him to talk, and probably won't be able to. I need to move on. My head is still in complete chaos, without even a semblance of a plan. What should I do? How to escape? Where to go? I'm in a hopeless situation, I can only obediently play the role of a slave, which I absolutely despise. But what else is left? Ni, perhaps you know what I should do?The user needs to become stronger.Stronger, is that so? Interesting, how exactly am I supposed to become stronger here... I'll soon become a walking vegetable, like all the inhabitants of these walls.The user needs to accumulate experience in all possible areas so that I can process it into points, which can then be directed to the skills that interest you.Currently, user Alexander Voidovsky corresponds to Level 1. You managed to gain 20 XP during crafting. Another 80 XP - and the user will have the opportunity to rise to the next level.I repeat - the user needs to become stronger.Skills... experience... what nonsense this all is! The only use for this interface is entertainment. Bah!I'll rely only on myself. After studying the territory and schedule in more detail, I might be able to organize an escape. But firstly, they catch runaways here with great efficiency. Secondly, there are almost more guards than slaves; I'm exaggerating of course, but still: wherever you look, you'll find at least one guard. Thirdly - I know absolutely nothing about this world! No one shares even crumbs of information with me. All I know is: I'm on another planet or in another world; slavery is flourishing here; they considered me a runaway slave and stuck this damn heavy collar on me. That's it!I walk out onto a large field, angered by my thoughts. Damn all these guards, all the leaders of the space mission, all cosmonauts in general!Small bushy plants with strange purple fruits grow in neat rows. I seem to encounter the color purple quite often in this world. At the beginning of each row is a box, apparently for harvesting. Slaves walk along the rows, one per row, collecting these strange fruits. One row is empty - apparently mine. And the end of the beds goes somewhere beyond the horizon... They must be crazy, it would take a month to harvest all this!"Move it, you horse dung, you half-baked insect!" another overseer reminds me of my place. Where would we be without them!I obediently go to my row and start picking the fruits. I'm disgusted with myself, since when did I become so obedient?Harvesting turns out to be not as simple as it seemed. Each fruit seems nailed to the branches, requiring considerable effort to tear off.1 to the "Agriculture" skill, - the interface informs after an hour of my labors.You received 5 XP for discovering a new plant.I couldn't care less about your XP...I look wistfully at the endless rows of bushes. Well thought out - declare a person a slave, and there's your free labor force for any work. We work for food! Speaking of food...Hunger: 13% Thirst: 25%I realize I haven't eaten or drunk for a very, very long time. My stomach starts to growl unpleasantly, I approach the guards and resolutely address them:"When's lunch?" my question sounds defiant, and for some reason I feel their answer won't please me."Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, guys, we've got a bozoprat here demanding lunch. Where'd you get such audacity?" the guards laugh among themselves. Did I say something funny again?"Finish your work and you'll get a bowl of gruel with everyone else. Or half a bowl if you work poorly. Get back to the beds before you get the club!" Well, as I suspected, I don't like the answer at all. With my reserve of strength, desire, and patience, I won't even earn a quarter of a bowl.There's nowhere to go, I return to the purple fruits. I have no idea what this plant is, but I don't care anymore...The plant you studied has been added to the encyclopedia. Want to read?I don't want anything, go away... Better tell me about my condition?CONDITION: Health: 85%; Stamina: 30% Alertness: 76% Hunger: 11% Thirst: 20%How can I gather strength to survive this...The rest of the day passes as if in a fog: bend down, pick a fruit, put it in the box - and so on in a circle. Talking is not allowed, resting is not allowed. After trying to sit for just five minutes, I immediately received a punch to the gut, and ended up spending all the time I had planned for rest trying to catch my breath. I didn't progress further than 1/5 of the row, as I had expected, my back hurts terribly, and my hands are covered in calluses.You have increased your Stamina limit by 3 units. You gained +1 to the Endurance skill. You received 15 XP for completing the assigned task.Finally - a whistle signaling the end of work for today. However, that's what I decided this sound means. In reality, this whistle could be a harbinger of anything...Under convoy, we are led to another crumbling building where I receive a bowl of gray slop of unknown origin. Is this the gruel?I look around and realize that the other slaves are already eating these vile slops. The hunger is beastly, I should try too. I cautiously put a spoonful of this crap on my tongue and immediately spit it out. What a disgusting thing, it tastes no better than it looks!I sadly set aside the bowl, deciding I'm not that hungry after all. A new whistle - dinner is over, the convoy leads us to another barn. Impenetrable darkness descends on the slave camp, announcing with its arrival the long-awaited night, promising rest and healing sleep.Most of the slaves immediately went to sleep. I look around, trying to find someone suitable for conversation."Can't sleep?" I suddenly hear a quiet voice, reminding me somewhat of the voice of that distributor boy. Someone addressed me? On their own? Really... I turn my head and see a skinny guy with a cleanly shaved head. He seems to be about my age. The slave looks a bit better than the others, even his face isn't covered in ulcers and boils like the others. Strange."How can anyone sleep here, in a cold barn on a bare floor? After work, my whole body aches," I feel myself smiling stupidly at these not-so-joyful words. I've really missed communicating with people..."This is nothing! Tomorrow you won't be able to get up at all in the morning. Although... It's not like we have a choice, heh," the guy extends his hand and introduces himself - Andreas."Alexander, you can call me Sasha. Did you end up here recently?" my new acquaintance looks too unlike the other slaves. His facial expression is lively, not colorless, he's better fed, cleaner."Today. For the second time!" Andreas says, quietly chuckling, "by the way, speak quieter, otherwise we'll both get flogged.""What do you mean for the second time?!" I don't understand. Why is this guy so cheerfully stating such horrible things?"Well, how to put it... In short: I don't know how I was born or who my parents are, and I wouldn't want to know. They sold me here as a child, probably. As far as I can remember, I've always been a slave. So I worked here, almost died once, back in early childhood. But they keep an eye on that here, they need slaves alive. They starve us, we can get sick, but as soon as they see someone's dying - they immediately give the serum to keep them alive a bit longer. How many times they've pulled me back like that - I don't even know."I listen without interrupting. Finally, I'll be able to learn at least something about this world and the situation surrounding me."About once a month, they take everyone to the market for someone to buy. A slave is expensive, but you get a free servant in return, you can feed them just scraps - pure profit. And if you're lucky - a good master won't skimp on food, it depends on human qualities. Everyone here in the camp dreams of being bought. But it happens rarely - who needs sick and weak slaves? They keep the low-grade ones, someone has to work in the gardens and mines too. So, unlike these guys, I got lucky - I caught the eye of a lonely lady. Well, not exactly a lady - a fatso weighing at least a hundred kilos, no less. So she bought me for pleasures of the flesh, she had no other chance to have relations anyway, heh" - Andreas laughs quietly again, while I sit in complete shock."For pleasures of the flesh? For relations?" I continue to be surprised. My new acquaintance was simply bought as some kind of pleasure toy?!"Why are you so surprised? Yes, that's exactly how it was. One of the best options for a slave's life, I tell you. I lived like a king for six years, had my own room, they fed me, even gave me clothes! All I had to do was work with my tongue or member between fat thighs when necessary, ha-ha-ha," Andreas laughs again. "She didn't have enough imagination for any perversions, so it was really quite good times.""What happened then?" I ask. If he liked it so much, how did he end up back here, I wonder?"She got married, can you believe it?" he grins again. "Found some one-legged freak, just back from the war, all covered in scars and burns. And not a penny to his name. They met somewhere in the market, he says, 'Oh,' he says, 'I love you so much, marry me.'""He wanted to appropriate her money?" I suggest. After all, people here aren't very different from Earthlings."Right on the money, brother. If she had brains, she'd have figured out what's what, but all her brains were already clogged with fat. So she quickly sold me back, and spent the money on the wedding. That's how I returned today," Andreas finishes his story."Upset?" I ask, already knowing how my interlocutor will answer."Of course I'm upset! I could have lived a very good life if it weren't for that half-baked warrior! And now I'm back to dying in these gardens and damn mines...""What war is going on?" I need to ask questions carefully so Andreas doesn't think I'm crazy."Well, our Sirvian Empire is fighting with the Edinheim Republic. The war has been going on for years now, they barely manage to rebuild the fleet," I couldn't avoid a surprised tone. However, Andreas immediately adds, "Although, in slavery, you don't really give a damn about all the wars, if you ask me. You're new here too, I thought they sent you here as a prisoner from the war. Since I was wrong, why the hell did they shove you in here?"I scold myself for not learning about the war earlier. It would have been a great cover! Tell him about space? Yeah, sure, and about the interface too, well done, Sasha, brilliant plan!Andreas waits patiently, expecting an answer from me. I won't be able to keep silent."Well... I... My parents sold me too!" my God, I hope this sounds at least somewhat plausible!"You don't really look like a long-time slave, comrade," Andreas frowns more and more."Well, I escaped! And recently they caught me again and brought me back here," I exhale with relief, I didn't even lie much, they did catch me and return me as an escaped slave."Wow, so you know everything about the local way of life, it turns out! And here I am telling you like a newbie about back pain, about the market, about all the nuances," Andreas laughs again, and I feel relief. He seems to be quite a dull guy if he didn't notice anything."How did you manage to escape? How did you remove the collar? How did you bypass the guards?" It won't be easy to get rid of the questions now."Let's sleep, I'll tell you everything tomorrow," I'll come up with something overnight."Right! If we don't wake up tomorrow - we'll get five lashes each!" Saying this, Andreas quickly turns away and falls asleep.Well, I learned quite a bit for one day. Now I need to come up with an escape plan. Ironically, I need to invent it because my new acquaintance will ask me about it tomorrow. Very motivating, maybe my lie will turn out to be a good plan, and I'll actually be able to escape. Oh, damn... The sooner I escape, the less I'll have to communicate with this Andreas. I seem to be getting dumber just from talking to him.I stretch out on the dirty, half-rotten boards and instantly fall asleep from exhaustion, despite the angry growling of my empty stomach.