Maybe [Messenger’s Pet]s didn’t come with spelling skills. Or maybe it had a name and I was failing to guess it.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” That latest attempt was more for my own amusement.
The [Messenger’s Pet] had cornered one of my city maps. There were two kinds. One was a smaller handheld one that seemed to appear endlessly in William Carver’s clothes. They were always in the same pocket, even if I had given one away already.
His other map was a table wide one that unrolled over the entire desk. It didn’t contain more notes than the smaller version, but the size made things far easier to read with this body’s blurry vision.
“What’s this now?”
He nosed out the map carefully instead of using claws. When nudging things, the [Messenger’s Pet] had terrible control.
“Town, yes, I’ve seen this before.” Many countless times by now. Even if I started as a new character with no inventory, [Haven Valley] would still yield plenty of results. If I started here anyway.
My still-nameless [Messenger’s Pet] lifted one foot and set it back down with some force. He repeated the motion enough that even I got the hint.
“What are you on about now?” I said, which resulted in a growl from the little guy. “Yes, there’s one of the smiths. Here’s us.” I ran a finger around the town, slowly establishing what the small creature was talking about.
There was something different here now.
“What’s this now?” I asked.
While there were almost always new notes and possibilities to read on the map, progressing with my Old Man Carver synergy bar had revealed a whole series of secrets. What the [Messenger’s Pet] had found was something new.
This wasn’t one of my known buildings—one of the barely defined shapes that resembled houses and key points as seen from above. This newest map point was a black inky dot that almost seemed to be looking at me. I narrowed already barely open eyelids at the map in a squint.
“Mmmh.” I put my finger right under the new destination and tapped the cane in my other hand. “Ah ha! Adventure!”
There was a dungeon in town—the map said so. [Maze of Midnight (Dungeon – Beginner)] The reason I’d never noticed was in the name itself. On top of that was an obvious description. This dungeon only opened at midnight, and Old Man Carver typically passed out well before then.
Even now, my stamina bar was almost completely drained. I was also covered in nicks and bruises from trying to assemble the bike.
Was this dungeon a good adventure?
I nodded. It would do. If Old Man Carver could take down a dragon, he could at least make it to the dungeon’s front door. Not tonight though. Tomorrow I would do one last set of rounds and start preparing for the dungeon to the best of my ability. Maybe the handbook had some more hints.
“Nngh.” A thought occurred to me that made the whole prospect undesirable. “I’ll need a party, won’t I?”
Going into a dungeon with Pie Master would be unhealthy.
Unless he brought pie, or better yet, cupcakes. Then I could bribe my [Messenger’s Pet] to attack all the monsters for me.
I tucked in and let Carver’s body get some rest while I logged back into my Atrium for research. Hopefully I would be able to keep myself awake for a few more minutes of research.
I issued a series of orders. “ARC, resume search for Trillium employees. Add an expansion for employees, outlying contractors, and family members. Set search limits for the date range to four years and status to deceased.”
“Parameters updated. Search resuming,” the machine slaving away said.
“ARC, initiate a second search: Maze of Midnight.”
Results compiled in front of me. I shuffled the deceased listings off to one side for later review. The [Maze of Midnight] search would probably come up empty. There were two songs, fourteen terrible poems, a band, and some obscure hacking incident. Nothing here looked like legend or lore to tip me off. I’d found a tip in the Continue handbook talking about how most in-game things were based on real legends and myths. From the name, I could assume this place was a maze, but that was already in the description too.
“Remove search results for Maze of Midnight.”
The files shattered into light, and I was left with the first pile for deceased.
Pictures were found, reports of how people passed, obituary notices. Nothing resembled Old Man Carver’s in-game face. Not even if I backed my brain up a few years and accounted for time lapses between worlds. I scattered the second set of research with a wave and propped my virtual chin onto one hand.
As usual, the [Messenger’s Pet] had followed me to the Atrium. He was currently staring at my cabinets with a quizzical turn to his head.
“ARC.” I paused for too long.
“Awaiting input.”
Goodness, I was having a hard time figuring out what to do next. “Pause command.”
I had gotten the bike together. I had arranged for Wyl and Dayl to cover my post in the event of my passing, in case this whole thing was a final countdown. Enduring chest pains and a bad limp along with all this other complexity was incredibly aggravating. There was still a piece to the Old Man Carver puzzle, and nothing clicked right.
“ARC. Resume. Display Continue.”
A small box appeared to the side, feeding me an image of Old Man Carver snoring away in bed. Everything looked normal and lined up perfectly with my standard view. I sighed and snorted out air much like the [Messenger’s Pet] might.
“Bah!” I tilted to one side. Standing on my head for a change in perspective didn’t help. Old Man Carver’s body couldn’t handle it, so I did this sort of antic in the Atrium, where my movement was far less restricted.
There had to be some clue to make this all work. So far I had tried a dozen Internet searches. I had even downloaded a few scenic programs to see if they would stir any thoughts from a change of pace.
The windswept cliff overlooking a majestic valley hadn’t helped. A pod in outer space with opposing views toward the earth and moon hadn’t helped. It was pretty, just not pretty useful.
Purchasing a ride-along movie of Dragon Skies, one of the most popular action first-person films to be released this year, didn’t help. The scenes were intense and over the top, but since it was scripted, everything felt artificial. The player behind Old Man Carver had lived a true life-and-death encounter to get a [Dragon Slayer] achievement. Each choice was his own, each action and reaction trained and honed.
What had the player thought during these moments? Was he elated? Did he feel a rush from battle? I personally would have wet myself. The depicted dragons were many times taller than my house. Standing against that while shouting defiantly was not my style. I would whimper like a mouse and crawl off.
“How did he do it?” I paced around. “How did he challenge so many things while feeling that kind of pain and feedback?” Great, now I was talking to the [Messenger’s Pet]. At least it was in the privacy of my Atrium.
“I mean, I have a hard enough time logging in and walking around. I can’t imagine that years ago he was much better.”
This was somehow worse to me than anyone who talked to a cat. The [Messenger’s Pet] was a digital program, and I was in a computer-generated reality.
“For what, if the time compression held, at least six years? More?”
The journals actually went back just shy of thirty years according to what I had pieced together. There weren’t any real data stamps, only markers of how long specific portions took.
I’d had to tally them all up in reverse order while trying to pry information out of the most talkative NPCs, like Peg. She never stopped her mouth and was either chatting mindlessly or correcting some student who was failing.
“Seriously. ARC!” I was getting livid and tired now.
“Awaiting input.”
“Show Trillium members with heart problems! All, alive or deceased.”
“Warning: Information will be incomplete. Non-
deceased citizens are protected by law from having personal information revealed,” the machine answered.
An ARC wouldn’t try to hack into others’ files or obtain information illegally, but it could go to less certified sources.
“News articles or anything you can glean. Rumor, gossip, whatever!” I said.
Worst-case scenario, I would break down and ask James for help. He was an AI of the machine and would probably know something. I wanted to avoid asking him though. Not because I was worried about the exchange of information, but because I wanted to complete this on my own. Each possibility eliminated helped narrow things down.
Mylia had avoided me since my impromptu visit. The orphanage kids didn’t visit much except Phil. New players had slowly stopped trying to track me down, instead going to whichever guard was substituting for me.
My progress hadn’t dropped any great amount, which meant I wasn’t failing, but I wasn’t making headway either. Technically there was a reward based on my completion rate, the prize being information. This information was meant to clear up Continue Online’s ghost in the machine.
Quest: A Last Gasp
Difficulty: Unknown
Details: You’ve chosen to take up the mantle of William (Old Man) Carver. The duration of this act is four weeks. Many of Old Man Carver’s skills and knowledge are still functional. Results will be measured based on performance as Old Man Carver. Review synchronization meter for progress.
Special circumstances tied to this quest have imposed the following restrictions: Autopilot time will not impact completion.
Failure: Complete failure is impossible.
Success: Possible information (Restricted)
There was a reason. I was almost afraid to find out, but I had suspicions. I existed outside the box with access to all the fictional foreshadowing forty years’ worth of people could create. Virtual reality wasn’t a new concept or theory. In practice, it was only recently reaching a peak with Continue Online. Each possible reason bothered me more than the last. I had only briefly seen a shattered version of my fiancée in the morgue. Those remains were hers. If she had somehow faked her death… well, all my sorrow would likely turn to rage. The thought of it made me shake in the Atrium.
“Don’t you dare knock more glasses off the counter.” I stomped over and pulled away the latest almost-victim to my [Messenger’s Pet] and his destructive ways. “Maybe I should download a friend for you in here.”
I looked around and frowned. This place hadn’t really been changed since I originally installed it. Maybe a virtual pet would be good—liven things up a bit. Plus if I put in a backyard of some sort, then they could go destroy it and leave this digital rendition of my house intact. A few days ago, I had finally swept up the first mess of glass.
“To heck with it.” I was thinking too much. I needed to shift my brain completely and not think about anything serious. To do that required a complete distraction from the mire of Continue Online.
The dance program was fired up, so I went straight for the group songs, the kind of thing that would go on a pop video or up on stage. I did my best to fit in with the younger crowd, to move and jive in a terrible rendition of randomly shuffled top hits. My skills were lax due to the time distortion of Continue Online, but the end score was still decent. Nothing about my groove screamed superstar. These antics wouldn’t be posted online for friends and family. No, I was a middle-aged man in a tight T-shirt dancing around on stage with half his gut hanging out. That was not popular at all.
But it was distracting.
Clapping came from the dimly lit outer edges of my dance program. Large clomping thuds and a jolly laugh followed.
“That was, without a doubt, the most entertaining performance I’ve seen recently. And I have an entire realm of mad fools to watch over.”
“James. Hey,” I huffed. Dancing, even in a virtual world, was mentally exhausting. With the exercise bands on, it was physically strenuous too. Sore muscles would be my reward for failing to stretch. A hand gesture spawned a towel in my hand, and I mopped off the simulated sweat and tried to dry off.
“Is this more entertaining to you than visiting our world?” he asked.
“Eh?” Still huffing, I looked around at the dull backdrop that went with my program. There was a vague notion of audience members and crowds of fans in the distance. A score hovered to one side. The other members of this dance group were frozen and still.
“No, not really. I needed to clear my head a little. To think, you know?” I said.
“Ah, escape from your trials. Are you sure that’s wise?”
“I never claimed to be wise.” Entertaining a computer AI from one program while in another was weird. I leaned my head back and stared up. “ARC!”
“Awaiting input.”
“Shut down this program. Enable a refresh. Get me back to square one.”
Keywords were embedded in my commands. The dance program would shut down, clean me up, and prevent the simulated exhaustion from winning. Afterward, my virtual body would be deposited back in the Atrium.
Light flashed through, and advanced scientific magic stuff happened. I was used to it, but James seemed mildly interested. Perhaps considering what would happen to his program while the ARC ran its sequences would have been a good idea.
“Jeez. You’re really well-designed.” I admired his ability to completely disregard the normal laws of programs.
“Thank you. I find humanity equally interesting to observe.” James gave a small smile.
“You don’t think of yourself as human?” My forehead wrinkled in brief confusion.
“I am not. I am a Voice. We have personalities. We are, by our definition, alive, but we are far from human,” he said.
“Huh.” These conversations always felt really neat and disorienting. The machine thought it was alive? Well, who was I to judge? Lawmaking was outside my skill set. Polishing metal frames was not.
“My turn for a question, Grant Legate.” He held up one hand to pause anything further I might say.
“Fire away.”
I walked over and ran the small [Messenger’s Pet] some water. Finally, he got a scoop of virtual ice cream that cost more than it should have.
James smiled.
“Two questions actually, but one at a time.”
I shrugged and kept up my exercises to return my heart rate to normal. The ARC had a heart-rhythm-monitoring program that launched after every sports-like game. It helped the users know when their brainwaves had settled down to a reasonable level.
“First, do you believe that you can complete William Carver’s quests within the deadline?”
“I’m trying to. I think I’ve got something.”
“That’s excellent news. The other Voices have been disappointed with the results so far. I’ve told them you would require time to fill another man’s shoes.”
“It’s hard work. Trying to think like he would, to answer like he would. I’m way more open. He keeps things close to the chest until someone does him a favor.”
The water went into a bowl from one of the virtual cabinets. I wasn’t even sure why kitchenware mattered here. Probably to keep the shock of transitioning between the real world and my Atrium to a minimum.
“His personality markers were varied. Greed mixed with empathy for children; wanting to see people do well but detesting handholding. Incredibly driven. The more I observe humanity, the more I notice these contradictions.”
“Yeah. We are what time and tide have made of us. A lifetime of experiences often leaves a mark.” I sighed. That was a line from my therapist. “Anyway. Contradictions. We’re full of them. Look at our politics sometime.”
My body was almost back to normal now. These bands had my external vitals all out of whack compared to my normal dance nights. Maybe my belly would have vanished a year ago if I had started using them sooner.
“I’ll not comment on your rulers. Those in our world provide more than enough for me to stu
dy on that front. Besides, I’m not interested in such broad groupings I study individuals.”
“So psychology.”
“Yes, but with a focus on behavioral studies and motivational understanding.” James sounded pleased and kept the focus on me as I paced around the room. “My role as a Voice is to learn what drives those from your world and to test them.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. How twisted does this stuff get?” My head shook. That wasn’t right. “Wait, to expand—this whole thing with my fiancée isn’t some game plot, is it?”
I’d asked before. I would probably ask again.
“No. But make no mistake, Grant Legate, there will be tests and temptations. You yourself have already been subjected to a few.”
I shuddered to think about the Temptress herself. Part of me would be unsurprised if she strutted right out of the game doorway now. James kept talking while I nervously eyed the portal.
“But if you are truly able to solve William Carver’s final quest, then he may provide an answer.”
I nodded. That was the whole point of doing this entire oddball role-playing. Literal role-playing, not just gaining a level and distributing points. Not hack-and-slash style gaming. No, I was actually playing the role of a completely separate person.
“I look forward to your progress, Grant Legate.” James nodded as well, then faded out.
Finally, my heart rate was back to normal.
Wait.
“He may?” I muttered, trying to remember James’s words. Did that mean William Carver wasn’t dead? What had started as a hunch was now in fully confirmed status.
“Oh my god.”
The sheer excitement passing through me completely overrode my hearing. Otherwise, I might have noticed that I sounded exactly like my niece.
The follow-up question on my end was equally disturbing. Had James let that slip intentionally? Hadn’t he led me to believe Carver was dead? James was a computer program. He could think hundreds of times faster than any normal human being might. Even if his attention was scattered, it would still be enough to correct grammar in the event of a mistake.
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