Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Cold, clammy fingertips touched my forearm.

  “You could not handle what I would ask,” the Jester’s distant and distorted voice said. “Not yet.”

  I risked glancing down. The Jester was taking my hand, an action which sent my virtual heart into palpitations, and using it to do something with the book. Together, me almost petrified and the Jester with a frozen grin, we closed the book entirely.

  The images and projections of humans and other creatures faded. Even the Jester was gone. I took a few breaths to steady myself. This game had officially freaked me out. Once I got over the rush, part of me realized that these different images, Voices, were completely suckering me. I’d watched them like a spectator at a zoo. Some had interacted with me, and that made me realize that this observation was two-way. Continue Online was studying me. That idea made me pause.

  “If anyone needs to know, I’m really good at polishing the metal frames of our eventual robot overlords!” The comment came out far more nervous than it did joking.

  In the darkness, something once again seemed amused.

  I shook myself, and the feelings faded. I was reading into the empty surroundings. My shrink called it projecting internal fears upon an indifferent landscape. Self-realization was a technique I’d tried to practice over the last few years. It made me more open with the things that bothered me, like the conversation with Liz earlier today.

  Was that today? I opened the book again, skipping a few pages to avoid the Jester or any others of that type.

  “You seem at a loss.” The latest figure was an overly plump black man. He too wore glasses and had a balding head. Flickers of gray etched what roots remained. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  That tone struck me hard. A rich depth lined each word, firm and gentle. I didn’t swing toward the guys’ side of the fence at all, yet he spoke in such a way that made me want to talk. Even the question he’d asked felt comfortable. It was the same sort of question I heard from my counselor. Two hours a month spent explaining that I hadn’t tried to kill myself in the bathtub this month because I was going strong.

  “If we speak for too long, does that mean I’ve chosen you?” I asked.

  “Not at all. You make the choice clear by placing your hand on the print below.” The heavier man approached the podium during our conversation.

  He was alone in the landscape. Some Voices had a backdrop. Warriors had battle scenes, elves had trees or something nature-bent. The connections were obvious. Like the Jester, this man had nothing else but wasn’t nearly as creepy.

  “Can you explain what’s happening?”

  “I can, but for each Voice, there are rules,” he said.

  “Are you whatever passes for Gods in this game?” I started with a simple question based on teenage years filled with games and homework.

  “For myself, I believe in a fair exchange.” The black man completely bypassed my question. “You ask a question, and I will answer to the best of my understanding, should I choose to.”

  “That’s—”

  “It’s unfair, but there are restrictions on what we can impart to your kind. Here’s an example—you asked if we are Gods in this game. I can answer by saying yes, but the term God is misleading. We are more like Caretakers of this world,” he said while walking around the pillar slowly.

  “Oh.” I guessed even the developers didn’t want to deal with Christianity. Religions out there in the real world might get upset. Especially since the player base was incredibly huge. Trillium and the ARC project had a yearly income higher than the Vatican.

  “Now I ask you a question, and my rules are that simple. You ask, I ask, you ask, I ask. I will try to keep this exchange even.”

  “That’s reasonable.” It was awesome actually. The gods here had rules right from the get-go! That was something insanely unique from anything I’d ever played, even before this level of realism. Players never got to just flip through a book and talk to them.

  “Why didn’t you choose this one?” The black man flipped back toward the beginning of the book. Moments later, he was on the angelic blonde on a pedestal.

  This time, she didn’t look indifferent; she looked annoyed and glared at the two of us.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly.

  “When someone says they don’t know, it either means they are uncomfortable explaining or don’t know how to word it. Think about my question some more and try to answer it again.”

  I gave the larger man a confused look. He was dead on, both in matters of comfort and not having the right words.

  “She’s on a pedestal,” I said.

  “She was placed there by her followers and it has little bearing on her looks. Most of your kind, and those in the world we watch over, remark on her beauty, yet you did not.” The heavyset man looked up toward the blonde with a hint of amusement.

  Now she was standing and looked downright furious. A gust of wind passed through and sent her blond tresses spinning wildly about her face. Thunder rolled and a storm approached from somewhere outside of our room, chilling the air.

  “I’m not playing this game for that sort of thing. I had…” As a man who had been in a relationship, I realized how wrong the words coming out of my mouth would be taken. Looking up revealed a poor reception to my utterance.

  She was getting even angrier. Her mouth opened in a soundless shout and thunder echoed across the room. I winced and shied away. Rain was splattering in the landscape across the book’s pillar.

  “I’m not looking for a replacement of my fiancée!” I shouted in desperation.

  The winds died. By the time I looked up again, the angelic woman had resumed her location on the perch. She stared off into the invisible distance.

  These Voices were intense.

  “Very well. It’s your turn for a question, Grant Legate.”

  “Are all of you so—” How did I phrase this? They had interacted with me, and I hadn’t even created a character yet. There was no entry quest or setting. Nothing. Yet these Voices were clearly part of the game.

  “You are allowed to explain how you’re feeling before asking a question. I am no Trickster seeking to lead you astray. I am”—he gestured an arm up and down his midsection—“exactly as you see. A man who wishes to exchange questions for answers.”

  “Earlier there was a man who yelled in my face. Some military one.”

  “Yes.” The black man nodded.

  “And there was the one in the mask.” Man or woman, it had been hard to tell from the brief interaction we’d shared.

  “Yes.”

  “And her.” I pointed at the woman on the pillar. She would be at home staring out over the sea with that distant gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you all see me? Wait, no that’s not right…” I waved in confusion and tried to figure out how to phrase this next question. It needed to be something that cleared up my unease.

  “You are seeking to understand exactly what is happening here, is that what you want to know?” he said.

  It didn’t sound exactly right. I understood, but at the same time it felt incomplete.

  My forehead scrunched in thought. “I guess?”

  “Very well. You are here because you chose to be. Some of your kind enter and are treated with far less grace. Yet because you held a key, you will be tested before finding a place in the world.”

  I nodded to show I was following. This sounded like Ultimate Edition stuff, things not normally given to regular players.

  “Here, in this space between our world and yours, are the Voices. We all watch.” He gestured around, and for a moment, I could see other faces and figures in the darkness. They faded in and out with bows and waves or grunts. Some smiled, others scowled, yet more looked distracted. “Each of us takes a measure of who you are and may choose to favor you, or not, before your journey starts.”

  “So that thing with me choosing a Voice was a lie?” I felt almost happy for catching the game in
a misleading lie.

  “Ah, my turn next,” he said.

  I clenched my eyes shut and nodded. The man had given me more of an answer than I’d expected anyway. From that brief explanation, it was fairly clear that these Voices, or Caretakers, were AIs. They could choose me as much as I could try to choose them.

  “Why not choose her?” He flipped the page over one to the red-skinned temptress.

  The angelic one was still up on her pedestal, but she looked annoyed while trying to remain serene.

  The temptress came to with a black chair that she straddled. This view was both a tease and a promise. Her legs flowed out to either side and showed nothing but curves spinning down to obviously manicured toes. She rested her face on a propped up hand and smiled.

  “For the same reason I didn’t pick the first one.” I almost groaned the answer.

  “That answer feels incomplete, Grant Legate. Lust and love are not the same thing, and neither are these two.”

  “I didn’t come here to bang someone.” It was crude and to the point.

  This made the temptress smile. Drat, I remembered how alluring she was far too late.

  “Ah, but you would love it.” Her voice was stimulating and made me shake.

  I had to close my eyes briefly and try not to respond on any level. The black man made a noise, then clicked his tongue. Shortly thereafter, both women faded away from view. I could still feel their presence though. That lingering hint of an overwhelming woman and her cold, distant counterpart. Both were too perfect to be real, for different reasons.

  “I’ve known men and women who spend their entire lives chasing one of them and would die happy with a glimpse. Here, we give your kind the chance to get closer than any from our world.” He smiled again, satisfied with how things were progressing.

  I couldn’t say I was happy, but I was rather enjoying the whole procession.

  “It intrigues me when someone turns down the offer,” he said. “Your turn, Grant Legate. If you have another question.”

  “Don’t tell me some of you all are betting on who I’ll choose.” I groaned.

  “There are a few who do, yes.” The man gave a short chuckle. “If that sort of thing interests you, I can let you know the results.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “If it’s any consolation, most of them are already out of the running. Normally your kind chooses from one of the first few. Looks are a valuable thing.”

  My eyes drifted downward toward my gut, which had grown over the years. Expecting fanciful looks from a woman was unfair. I only had this pudgy midsection and a wad of emotional baggage to offer in exchange. The me of years gone by might have been worthwhile. Once, I had been a highly paid accountant and mentally balanced.

  “It’s your turn still, Grant Legate.”

  “Yeah.” I shifted gears. “Is this book ordered from those most chosen to those least chosen?”

  “It is. Across your kind and our world,” he confirmed.

  “Huh.” I pondered the faces that had passed by, the creatures and images. Now here was this man who had to be near the back. Why had so few chosen him?

  “You’re not very popular, are you?”

  “In this case, I can both answer your question and pose my next one. Please remember the rules and answer me clearly, or this relationship will have to end.”

  I nodded and waited.

  “I am not, as you have stated so succinctly, popular.”

  I swore there was amusement in the room. Less than before, far fewer, but there was enough to fill the air without a doubt.

  “People often do not like the questions I pose. I’ve been told they are invasive and none of my business. Yet you do not seem upset at me, more at the situation.”

  “How…”

  The black man raised an eyebrow at my almost-posed question. I put up a hand and cut myself off, then nodded again.

  “Why is that, Grant Legate?” he questioned me with a level expression.

  “The short answer?” I said.

  “A complete answer of any length is fine.”

  “You’re not the first shrink I’ve talked to. In my world, I’m in meetings, have a sponsor, the whole nine yards to get my life back together. There’s nothing you could ask that I haven’t already said out loud dozens of times.” I felt awkward standing here. Not enough to do anything about it though. My history was full of being sat in one place and taken through endless questions.

  “Very well, Grant Legate. I will accept that answer. It’s your turn,” he said.

  “Okay. Yeah, I have a good one,” I responded with a pleasant smile.

  “I hope so.”

  “What the hell did that little dragon do to my Atrium?”

  Said little dragon had alighted on the broken pillar’s edge. Tiny claws dug into formed grooves and threatened to tear off more chunks of marble. It was completely indifferent to my angry pointing finger.

  “Not just that, but how the hell did downloading this world cause my fiancée’s image to speak?”

  Surprise crossed the heavyset man’s face as he turned around to glare at the small dragon. The much smaller creature crouched and winced. It almost seemed to be pleading, but no words came out. Its mouth didn’t even open. Soon it was backing up and almost falling off the broken pillar’s rear.

  The exchange wasn’t limited to those two. There was whispering again, similar to what had happened when I first placed my hand on the book. My gut told me these Voices, or computer-programmed personalities, were talking about something. None of the words were distinct though. Finally the room pulsed once, a brilliant blinding light. Whispering stopped. The small dragon didn’t look up.

  After a long pause, the black man turned back around looking upset and distracted.

  “That is not a question I can answer at this time, but we will arrange a chance for compensation.”

  “Will you be able to answer it sooner or later?” I asked.

  The black man lost some of his scattered anger and focused on my latest question.

  “That depends entirely on you, Grant Legate. Would you like to know eventually? You may not like the answer.”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Very well. I will work to provide you an opportunity”—there was a pause in the conversation as whispers rushed around again—“if we judge it to be allowable.”

  The background chatter died, seemingly satisfied.

  “I’m afraid I’ve lost track of who was where in the questions. Recent, developments”—he turned with a half glare again—“have distracted me.”

  Could computers get distracted? There was hope that humanity might survive the eventual takeover of our robot overlords. Maybe we could lock them up with logic loops and eat up their processing power.

  “I’m not sure.” I was terrible at keeping track of the here and now anyway. When working, I could focus, and that was only possible due to one task being available at a time. “You can ask a few if you want.”

  “Not right now.” His lips moved as he counted back. “Your turn, I believe. Since I could not answer your earlier question completely.”

  “Okay.” I shook off this whole weird situation.

  This was probably some clever ploy to get me into the game. Continue Online’s evil plot started with destroying all the other digital items I owned. A follow-up act involved pretending to punish itself. That was far too complex for me to even conceive of. Honestly, if a game wanted to go to that extent to get me hooked, I would sign off on it.

  “Do you have a name? Do any of you?” I gestured to the darkness that had housed the other Voices. Most of them were likely out there somewhere still.

  “We all do, though the names we were created with are far from perfect.”

  “Okay. What would like me to call you?” Computer programs probably couldn’t generate perfect names.

  “James,” he said.

  “Just James?” Computer AIs in a fantasy world
would hopefully have better naming sense than the creators of EXR-Sevens or Second Player helm did. VCE-One through VCE-Seven Hundred and pi would sound far less impressive than James.

  “Why? Is that name not good enough, Grant Legate?”

  I smiled at his return question. Even our belated greeting was following the question trading requirements.

  “James is fine. It seems out of place for another world.”

  “It’s not from our world; it’s from yours,” he said.

  “Well, I guess that explains it.”

  “Your turn again, Grant Legate.”

  A frown crossed my face. I was beginning to suspect we had different definitions of the word question. Or maybe he could bend the rules a little if he desired. “Okay then.”

  My hand went for the book on its pedestal, ignoring the tiny half-cat-sized dragon which was now staring at me. I rubbed the top of its head. The small thing was so surprised that it puffed out a glob of steam and jerked away.

  “Heh.” I ignored the small creature and flipped through the pages again to get to the back. I knew what choice would work for me.

  “Looks like I’m signing up with you, James.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  One hand pressed into the outline of a hand. Lights and sparkles suffused my impression. What had once been darkness was now lighting up. Walls seemed far closer than they had been. We were somewhere else entirely. A smaller room that felt far different both in presence and atmosphere.

  “Yeah. Looks like it,” I said.

  “Very well.” The man surveyed the new landscape. “Then we should get started with the next phase.”

  Session Five — Oh Wondrous Feet

  User Grant Legate - Prepare for Practical Evaluation

  Without comprehension, I read the message repeatedly. James and the small dragon creature weren’t around anymore to remove my confusion. Both, along with my book and pillar combo, had vanished with the scene change.

  Logs started rolling out of nowhere into the room. They certainly hadn’t been around a moment before. Most of them were small and clearly moving toward the middle, where I stood with what felt like a stupefied look on my face. I stepped over one and kept watching. The logs didn’t seem to collide with each other, but one I almost failed to get over certainly made an impression on my foot.