Dying in the virtual world is not good, but it is much worse to expose yourself to a bullet in an unforgiving reality. In such a lousy situation, it is unlikely that salvation from death in exchange for a return service in the digital universe will seem such a dubious deal. A game is just a game. It’s just that the games started by the intelligence services follow incomparably more stringent rules, and the lack of choice serves as a poor excuse for those who have fallen into the millstones of behind-the-scenes intrigue. However, I really had no choice, and the price for salvation did not seem excessive. Enter the game, become a necromancer, throw off the malefic hunters, pass the screening, find a person. Whom? How? For what? Wrong questions. The question should have been completely different: why me? Why John Doe?