“ARC!”
“Awaiting input,” the machine answered.
“Log—”
“There’s no need to be so hasty, Grant Legate.” James blinked into existence a few feet away. The black man’s hands were folded over his pot belly. I had successfully bluffed the machine.
“Really, James?” I waved. “Back to the book? Aren’t we past that?”
“I’ll treat that as one question, and no, we will never truly move on. After all, it’s your story we’re talking about.”
I blinked, and my face twisted in puzzlement. That made no sense. Maybe it was vaguely neat perhaps? If the machine wanted to pretend all this was symbolism for a grandiose purpose, who was I to argue?
“My turn for a question, Grant Legate,” he said.
Today had been a long day, one that involved numerous special people. I had no patience for the name-calling. Plus, part of me was anxious to get right to my answers. One hand waved at James to keep going.
“Why did you find opening the book aggravating?”
“Because all of you seem to pop in any time you want to.” I sighed. “It seems pointless to bother with it.”
“Ah. Very well, your turn,” he said.
“I’d rather have my answers, James. I did what you asked with Carver.” Every single WWCD instinct available to me had been put into play. Four weeks in his shoes had hopefully provided a good ending on the matter.
“That you did.”
“My man Wild Willy loved it.” Leeroy faded in with one overly muscled arm resting on James’s shoulder.
The black man looked annoyed and waved the other Voice away.
“That’s good to hear,” I said.
Part of me felt revitalized by Leeroy’s feedback. Once I’d learned that William Carver was alive, the entire situation had taken on a personal tone. There was a palpable difference between a computer and a person. At least in terms of how I viewed it. I shook the other thoughts out of my head. That line of thinking would go in endless circles. If Washington couldn’t figure out an AI’s legal status, how could I?
“Is he okay?” I asked.
James frowned, tucking back a cheek. “That is a question I can’t answer personally.”
“Okay.” The word drew out slowly while my thoughts whirled. “What do we do then?”
“Open the book, Grant Legate.” James stepped back, still scowling.
I had to remind myself that he was a computer program putting on an act. “Why?”
“You ask far too many questions. Remember our deal.” James went from distracted annoyance to directly focused displeasure. All of it aimed at me.
“You could ask questions, you know.”
Irritation touched the edge of his mouth and eyes. “I could, but I’m beginning to worry that you’re a completely open book.”
“Merely tired of hiding things.” I sighed.
My personality hadn’t always been stable. Part of that was due to trauma from my fiancée’s passing. Attempting to kill myself twice hadn’t helped. Plus, being forced to bare those wounds repetitively had dulled the normal offense someone might feel at James’s questions.
“I do have one question actually,” James mused. His disapproval had transformed into a sly smile.
“Fire away. I owe you a few.” Part of me felt tired and drained. Today had been a long day.
“What was her name?”
“Who?” Wariness flooded me.
“Your fiancée, the woman who died and left you in such a state.”
That was actually a very good question. So good that I paused and debated how to answer. Her name wasn’t something I thought of, much like her passing. As if the cosmos was mocking my bravado at being an open book, James had poked the wound in a spot that had never fully healed.
“That’s not a good question, James.”
“The fact that you’re protesting means it is a very good question.”
Fine. James had a point. When was the last time I had even thought her name?
“Xin,” I said softly.
“Xin? That is not native to your tongue.” James had one eyebrow up and a hand half lifted in question.
“Her parents were from China.”
“Interesting.” He nodded briefly.
That made my head tilt in confusion. “Which part?”
“I hadn’t expected her to be of another race. My information shows that people in your world and ours avoid mixed relationships. You yourself said something similar when we first met.”
“Yeah.”
Continue Online hadn’t exposed me to any racism at this point. [Haven Valley] was fairly quiet even though it straddled the border between two major political arenas. Maybe people left Carver out of it.
“It’s less common in our world, though racism got bad again after the last few wars.” Racial hatred had grown especially terrifying for the Chinese. They had been blamed for a lot of economic issues as trade between countries went through upheavals.
“Did this bother you?”
“God, no. She was…” Was. That word came out of my mouth and tore at me. Three years and it was still impossible to let go. “She was, uhh, a great person.”
“Xin Legate?” James questioned.
I couldn’t even make eye contact with the man, but his tone felt softer.
“She hadn’t decided on if she would keep her name or, uhh, take mine.” Cultural practices differed. Xin, my fiancée, had been…
Talking to James was actually overwhelming. I had to get away from this entire line of thinking. All so my happy place wouldn’t be utterly destroyed. Her smile flashed through my brain for a moment. Everything drowned out in a swell of mental music that enticed a weak smile to my face. A waltz. She would love a dance.
I tried not to let past wounds creep up as one hand cracked the book’s cover. Light shone from the pages. Bright colors from all over the rainbow’s spectrum filled the room. “Congratulations!” stood out from the page in pop-up fashion.
“What?” That shook my growing melancholy. I embraced bewilderment as it displaced my negative emotions.
“You did great, man!” Leeroy was back and clapping giant meaty fists together.
Without warning, my body was flung sideways by something red-skinned.
“Ahhh!” Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.
My legs were pinned, both arms covering my face, and an extremely pleasurable sensation rushed through the length of my body. Her fingers had started tearing my poor virtual shirt to shreds. Soft hair dripped across my increasingly exposed skin. The Temptress was very much on top of me, unclothed, and growling in what was perhaps the most arousing manner to ever come into my life.
“No!” I protested with what mental capacity was left. Most of it was otherwise distracted.
“Yes!” She sat up and rocked.
My responses were perfectly natural, even here in a digital landscape. “No?” My tone shifted as my face flushed and pants grew tight.
“Yes!” She tore at my shirt again.
No one was coming to my rescue. James and Leeroy were gone, leaving behind the broken pillar and book. A colorful “Congratulations” taunted me. I tried with increasing weakness to fight off the red-skinned woman.
“No. Please. No. I hardly know you.”
The Temptress was above me, stretching in a way that had my mind going all sorts of wrong, or right. Depending on how I felt about biological programming. Even now, saying the word biological would be impossible.
“You’ll know me as well as any man if you say yes.”
She had moved on without me. Her teeth were tugging at the waistband of my avatar’s pants. I wasn’t sure if I should be thankful or upset that they weren’t coming off. Instead, my waistband seemed to be held on by an invisible force.
Her gaze appeared to be gesturing to the side at a window that had been invisible during my lust-laden fog.
Quest: Extremely Instant Gratification
Difficu
lty: Easier than ever
Details: All you need to do is accept. What more details do you need? She promises to have you screaming in pleasure until your mind turns to mush.
Denial: Would be foolish.
Acceptance: Shut up and do it.
Yes and No buttons floated below the quest text. Reaching for the No button was almost as hard as other unmentionables. Worse still, it ran away from my finger.
“Yes!” The Temptress growled around my waistband. The Yes button got bigger.
I kept reaching for the No.
“Yes!”
A wave of pleasure racked my brain and a groan escaped. The machine was not playing fair. Three years without sex and being jumped by an exotic beauty had nearly done me in. I tried to operate one hand and think of all the calming items from my teenage years. Knees flexed in an effort to force blood elsewhere.
“Yes!”
“No. Not like this.” I gasped and surged my hand toward the No a final time. This time I was successful.
The Temptress faded away with a groan of utter disappointment, clearly voicing the frustration she felt at being denied. My heart raced and thudded. According to the health tracker that went with my EXR-Seven bands, I was well past the cardio zone.
“He said no?” a little girl’s voice came through.
Somewhere in the background, the Jester was laughing its mechanical laugh.
“Man, Grant Legate. You are definitely different from Wild Willy, aren’t you?” Leeroy peered down at my recovering form.
I blinked a few times and tried to figure out what had happened. “You could say that.”
“He would have tried to hit that so hard that she would walk funny for days.” Leeroy grinned.
I shuddered and tried to avoid thinking about the entire situation. Merely the hint of remembrance had kept life hard this entire time.
“What’s the matter, Grant Legate? A girl gotta buy you dinner first?” Leeroy was sort of an ass.
“If you wanted something to eat, all you had to do was ask.” Her lust-ridden tones attacked my senses. The words were cheesy, but my face flushed bright red.
Leeroy’s grinning face did not match the Temptress’s words in my ear. She wasn’t even in the room, but her presence flooded me again. I rolled over with a groan and pretended to bury my head in the sand.
“Need a hand?” Leeroy asked, his tone amused. The Voice gave off a bro mentality that had taken up part of my college years. Not that I had been a bookworm and hidden in the library all day; I just couldn’t get behind their extreme actions sometimes.
“No. I need a minute.” I reached for the log-out button.
Back in the real world, I awoke with the same problem as in the virtual one. A bulge stood out in a relatively forgotten part of my anatomy. At least out here it was easier to calm down. Had the computer tried to rape me? No, there had been a clear line of required consent.
“Fuck,” I said and gritted my teeth.
Questions remained to be answered. Getting those answers entailed wading through Continue Online’s latest head game. What had James said? They didn’t rely on smoke and mirrors to entice people to play? Logging back in was best done before my nerve completely collapsed. Sitting outside the machine would lead to added uncertainty.
Moments later, I descended back into the ARC’s virtual world and made my way into Continue Online.
“Welcome back, Grant Legate.” James had returned to his passive expression, judging everything with those eyes.
“Can we not do that again?”
“That is completely up to you and Mezo.” James’s expression broke with a smile. The Temptress’s name was Mezo? “I will not control the choices you make.” I opened my mouth for an angry retort, but James raised a hand. “Why did you say no?”
Right, we had a deal. His questions, then mine. There had to be something resembling an even exchange.
“I don’t know.”
“Come now, Grant Legate, we’ve talked about this. Take the time you need and answer the question.”
“James, you let the man be and move things along. Tut. Taking all this time to sate your own needs without worrying about your charge’s. It’s disgraceful.” Maud was defending my inability to formulate an answer. Her legs were surrounded by children who looked in all directions with seeming interest.
“I’ve upheld my nature throughout.” James went from amused to offended with a simple twist of his cheeks and turned down pitch.
“Past debts must be settled when they can be.” One of the children at Maud’s feet clamored for attention. She gave the small one a pat on the head while glaring at James.
“Ah. Yes, first things first,” the male Voice said.
I tried to gauge what sort of results punching a Voice might yield me. A bonus to [Divine Attention] for sure. Maybe another hit to some stat in-game. I settled on overlooking the whole thing and waited for James to move us onward.
“For this part, I believe it’s best handled by someone else.” James turned stern and gained a few inches in height. His gaze cast around the dark room. “No one is to interfere.”
Thunder rolled as the black man scowled into the room. There were flashes of other faces that I associated with various Voices. Muttering, a rush of noises, and finally a bright chime of light that shut down all other actions. James looked pleased with the last note.
“Which one of you was that?”
“Mother,” James said. “Your answers next, Grant Legate. Then perhaps we can speak of other things.”
I tucked back one side of my lips and raised an eyebrow. James shook his head and faded away. From behind, where James had pointed, came a clicking that sounded absurdly familiar. A cane struck the ground in a slow step and footsteps shuffled in the dark room.
“Do you prefer Grant or Mister Legate?”
It was like hearing a ghost speak. The pitch and tone belonged to a man I had posed as for nearly four weeks.
“Carver?” I turned and saw the old man standing there.
His hands clutched a blackened cane. My first thought was about how short he looked from this perspective.
Session Nineteen — Answers, Mr. Legate?
“I…”
I had no clue where to start. William Carver was dead. It was a fact, because I had been in his body when the old man passed.
“How…” Was he still alive?
Seconds, maybe minutes, passed as my brain tried to connect thoughts with repeated clinks of failure. Finally, it hit me. Right. This was a video game of sorts. Letting the realism of its denizens fool me was a major mistake. William Carver’s body was no more real than I was. We were both just a series of code being compiled by an advanced piece of machinery. The better question was…
“Are you the man or the machine?” I asked.
William Carver gave a small smile before he answered, “Good. You catch on quick and ask questions that matter.”
He was much less grumpy than how I portrayed him. After four weeks of trying to understand all the world’s Carverisms, I’d better catch on quick. Still, awareness didn’t prevent a disconnection between being Carver and talking to Carver. Did identical twins feel like this? Thank goodness Liz and I weren’t that type.
“That’s not an answer.” I shook my head. “But Leeroy said the real player was nearly brain dead after a heart attack…” Leeroy had actually used a tasteless name, in my opinion.
Carver stood with a cane in hand and waited for me to piece things together. That seemed like a Carver response. I, Grant Legate, was across from what had to be an NPC version of the player. The simplest explanation was probably the correct one. I didn’t want to contemplate a Voice who mimicked the dead. That would be rude, even for a video game. Plus, that Jester Voice had even stated he wouldn’t dare disrespect a memory. So…
I took a stab. “His autopilot?”
“Yes. I am what you, what I, would have dubbed an autopilot.” The old man nodded and smiled a bit wider
.
“Then who was the player? From my world?” My feet slowly paced around Carver, as if seeing him from the side would make things clearer.
The old man turned with my pacing and a half frown of annoyance flashed across his face. “I am also him, after a fashion.”
A Carver groan escaped me. This was one of the many fears people had been contemplating since the idea of an immersible virtual reality came up. I wanted to be horrified. I wanted to run out screaming and break the ARC until nothing but shiny metal bits and a half-displayed frowning face existed. Yet none of that happened. Briefly, my mental image of James popped up and asked why. This wasn’t the real Voice, only a faint expectation of his response to my thoughts.
“They mapped your brain.” I face-palmed and sighed.
“In conjunction with endless hours within the virtual world.” William Carver nodded and seemed close to dancing happily. “It’s nearly an outright transfer of consciousness.”
“I half expected this.”
“I imagine so. Trillium’s employee files show you, more than most, know what the ARC is capable of,” he said.
Talking to William Carver confirmed one of the theories to cross my mind in the last four weeks. Sitting on the bench as Carver hadn’t been all newbies and quests, frustration and naps. There had been downtime to read Carver’s attempts at smut and sift through possibilities.
“It’s a giant complex mess of devices that reads thought to transform it into data and action. Saying that it could copy a personality isn’t that farfetched,” I said. A brief bout of worry for my niece passed through my mind before being put back in its mental box. I had spent too much time trying to keep my head screwed on right this week.
“The ARC does not modify anything in the brain itself. It only causes users to, in essence, relive experiences.” William Carver confirmed the Trillium party line. This topic was dangerous for any sane person to overthink.
“Tell that to Stranger Danger’s following. Their site has at least forty solid hours of rants about ARC conspiracies,” I responded with instead. Hal Pal had kindly given me the statistics.
“Can we both assume that such paranoia is nonsense?” Carver looked grumpy and leveled a glare my way.
“I don’t know enough about it to be worried.”
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 40
