“Oh. Oh yeah. You’re right. We’ve got time, I think,” the blonde said while tilting her head. She also seemed skilled in avoiding self-harm with that giant staff. I probably would have smacked myself twice if [Morrigu’s Gift] was a six-foot staff.
“You better not be late this time.”
Now they were on a subject I knew a lot about. Being sponsored meant she had some sort of problem. Making appointments meant she was trying to fix the situation. Missing those would make recovery harder.
“I don’t mind if you have to leave,” I said.
“No worries, Hermes, let’s see what we can get done. We’ve still got eleven hours to try to make it through before I have to go.”
“We’re all decided then. We cut near the town?” Edward asked. He was etching a small pattern into the wall to pass the time.
“Oh God, I hope the Gobbler Atlas isn’t in.”
“It could be the Huck Twins or that petrified oak.”
Edward and TinkerHell were talking back and forth too quickly for me.
“Stupid. We don’t have a second tank.”
“Or three healers,” Elane muttered.
“Simply say the word, my dear ladies, I’ll provide all the healing…”
There was a smack as Elane’s shield bashed into Edward. Stars once again formed above his character.
“What’s his deal?” I asked.
“Which part?” Tink’s head tilted in question, making her hair spill into a new position. Elane wore hers much shorter than the blonde in front of me.
“All of it?”
“The accent comes and goes because he’s trying to be British, plus he hasn’t managed to land SheHulk yet,” TinkerHell whispered. She suddenly yelled over my next attempted question, “Oh, hold on!”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow. Edward’s whole thought process was none of my business anyway.
“Ghost Mushrooms! Finally! I thought we’d never find another batch.”
“Really?” SheHulk looked pleased.
Edward was lost somewhere in the distance.
“Well, this trip’s not a total waste. Divvy them up. We’ll watch your back,” SheHulk said.
“All right.”
[Ghost Mushroom]s made no sense to me. Their value was an unknown, as was the location. Part of me wondered what they might taste like. TinkerHell seemed to be fiddling around with air on the wall nearby. SheHulk and I stood on either end of the hallway.
I hummed mindlessly and tapped one foot. There was just enough hallway room to shuffle down and maybe do part of a line dance. It wasn’t the same without people around to clap though. A tango was out. Swing would be a no-go. The list went on and on.
“Grant, knock it off,” Elane snapped.
“No thanks.” I hummed happily. Dancing was what kept me going. Something about her was pissing me off. TinkerHell was at least friendly.
“It’s kind of catchy,” TinkerHell said from her place along the wall. She bent over, looking down near the ground.
I squinted and tried to see whatever it was that had caught her attention.
“Really, Grant?”
I sighed, then spread my arms helplessly. “I don’t see any ghost mushrooms.”
“You don’t belong to any mage paths, so that’s standard.” Elane turned back and glared down the hallway. At least she didn’t outright accuse me of staring at TinkerHell’s rear end.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because you’re new, and if you had learned any magic, you wouldn’t be blind down here,” Elane responded.
“I’m blind down here because Dusk wouldn’t light a torch for me.”
“It’s a good thing he didn’t. Fire is bad. The Ooze is attracted to heat,” Elane said. One of her feet was grinding into the dirt.
“And body heat?” I asked.
Dusk had implied through his chirps that there was a reason for his refusal, but the explanation was unclear. At least some of his thoughts were coming through clearer with the thought bubbles. They were probably tied to the Rank Two unlock for him being a companion.
“It’s not enough. At least for standard players.”
We made a bit of small talk. TinkerHell seemed perfectly willing to chat about all sorts of things in exchange for information about Dusk and how I got him. Most of my answers were vague, because explaining that my boss had awarded me an Ultimate Edition was awkward enough. Following that with information about the Voices and my interactions with them would sound insane.
I stuck to simple things. Dusk zealously attacked everything his size. He loved sweets. He did not respond well to Sniffles the Second; naming him after my childhood cat was out. The [Messenger’s Pet] was asleep and draped over one shoulder with his tiny tail latched around my neck.
Completely out of the blue, everything went haywire. There was a snap, and my vision blurred sideways. Static crisscrossed my mind. Then the world went black. I tried to speak but couldn’t. My mouth wasn’t forming words correctly. The room spun. Room. Wait. That ceiling was familiar.
“Nnnnghhh.” I fumbled one hand above my head.
There. Small raised numbers signaling a countdown timer. For some reason, I had been ejected from the ARC device and brought back into the real world.
“User Legate,” a voice said from the doorway of my bedroom. “User Legate, once you have regained complete awareness, please let me know.”
“Jeeves?” I croaked.
“I understand if you are confused. There was a disconnect command issued from headquarters. If you have forgotten, I am your assigned Hal Pal unit.”
“Nnngh.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Part of my body was numb. An arm was completely unresponsive. Everything ached. I had forgotten how bad forced separations from the ARC could be.
“Why. Why.” The questioning tone wasn’t coming to my words.
“I have been advised that there is an important message for you from Vice President Riley.”
“Why. Why?” Clearly the fourth time was the charm. My fingers were still tracking the countdown. One minute—no, two. Eight minutes in-game.
“Once you demonstrate significant coherence, a call will patch through,” Hal Pal said.
I rolled out of the ARC and stumbled to the backroom. Nausea swept through me with each step. The Vice President of Trillium wanted to speak to me? There was no reason for that. No way I had done anything…
Oh. My brain was working now. Trillium owned Continue Online. William Carver had been one of the game’s key players. Plus, I had somehow gained a trait from the Voices. Either of those things was enough to warrant some attention. That was probably it.
I scrubbed the side of my face. A shave would be nice but there wasn’t enough time to fire up the equipment. One glass of water and a bite of energy bar went into my stomach rapidly. I paced, got in some stretches, and chewed quickly.
Hal Pal hadn’t moved, but he was watching every action. “Are you optimal, User Legate?”
“Close enough.”
Lights behind Hal Pal’s eyes bobbed in time with a nod. Equipment in my front room fired up.
“Affirmative. Confirming readiness with Trillium AI.” A logo for Trillium appeared on the wall. He bowed slightly to the projection. “Vice president available. Call projecting now.”
“Mister Legate,” a female voice said. The woman on the screen was still vaguely fuzzy due to my recent ejection from the ARC.
“Good…” I tried to remember the time. “Day, Miss Riley.”
“You are being scheduled for an in-person meeting at Trillium headquarters. Attendance is mandatory,” Miss Riley said. Trillium’s vice president was a woman I had only seen in company papers. Her face was plain, hair shoulder length, and expression very passive. Almost like this routine was beneath her.
“Okay. When is the meeting?” My mind sputtered and barely kept together. Only years of practice dealing with customers’ insanity saved me from a breakdown.
> “Tomorrow. A shuttle will be sent to your house. Clearance for the TRANS tunnels has been approved. Headquarters will be paying the bill.” Her stony expression didn’t change.
Tomorrow. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. Headquarters was a few hours away even if I took the tunnel. It would also be my third time riding cross-country using one. The last time had been when my fiancée passed. I tried not to let emotions cross my face. Now was not the time, nor the place to grow morose. Humming and tapping my foot would be equally unprofessional.
“You are available, correct, Mister Legate?”
When a woman like Trillium’s Vice President asked a question, men like me answered in affirmative. Especially since I enjoyed the perks of Trillium’s equipment.
“Yes.”
“Good. A reminder is being sent to your ARC. Forceful ejection will occur if you do not heed the alarm,” she said.
“I will.”
“I’ll expect you tomorrow, Mister Legate. Good day.”
The screen clicked off and left Trillium’s logo splashed across my wall. My foot started tapping immediately and a song sprang to mind. Right foot out, left foot back, move opposite the other dancers.
Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes she’d pulled me out of Continue Online for something that could have been done as a message. An email or other reminder would suffice. Twenty minutes that could have been used completing this absurd quest from the Voices.
A flash of insight hit me. There was a third possible reason Trillium might want to see me. I had hit a coworker rather hard. The Hal Pal units had expressed their lack of evidence, but maybe Jacob had filed a complaint. Maybe they were going to fire me anyway.
No. I was a good employee. Right?
I went to the ARC and lay down. My fingers crossed with the hope that Elane hadn’t stabbed my autopilot. Once again I flew through the Atrium without pause and went straight back to Continue Online.
A message was floating in front of me.
You are unconscious.
What? My total log-off time should have only been an hour in-game. What exactly happened during that time frame to result in unconsciousness? Did we get ambushed? Was there a trap? Had my autopilot run into a wall in a cartoonish moment of panic?
Being in a game and seeing this black screen was strange. My eyes struggled to open, but at the same time, I had a clear awareness. I heard muffled sounds. Someone was grunting and huffing. Elane maybe? She sounded worn out.
“Psttt.” That was a male voice. “Psssttt.”
More words passed by, and nothing made sense. I felt the ARC simulate a jolt of pain to my midsection. Nothing smelled right.
Struggle to wake noted.
You are regaining consciousness.
Another box displayed messages regarding a [Focus] and [Tenacity] check. More messages floated up about them being mental and social traits. The text boxes seemed to go on about internal effort versus external recognition. Either way, I was excited. A small sliver of vision appeared behind the messages.
“Mmmffh,” I said.
You are gagged.
“Mmmffthh?” I tried again. Everything was blurry and shaped oddly. Parts of the location we were in was glowing an off-color.
Was that wall blue? No. It was purple. Wait. Pink.
Oh, neat.
Event!
Mushroom Madness
Autopilot synchronization low. Default personality traits gathered from character creation Trials. Trial referenced: King’s Taste Tester.
While away, your autopilot was allowed a chance to test out new foods for poison! [Ghost Mushroom]s are invisible to the naked eye, but not to your taste buds! Fortunately, no royalty suffered as a result of this particular food slipping by you. Shoveling an entire handful into your mouth wasn’t the wisest course of action. You are now suffering the following effects:
High as a kite: [Coordination], [Focus], and [Reaction] skills suffer a 40% reduction in success. Or do they?
Chromesthesia: Certain sounds will trigger color sensations. Shapes and sounds can also appear dependent upon the type of noise.
Tied up: You were knocked out and tied up. Party safety and sanity have increased as a result.
“Psssttt!” the whisper came again from one side.
A zigzag of color traced across the bottom of my eyesight, making me flinch in panic. Only my distraction of reading the system windows kept me from completely freaking out.
Elane was carrying me. My hands and feet were bound and mouth gagged. I tried to ask questions, but each time I muttered something, the floor was splashed with a distortion of indigo.
I tried to hold very still and not panic. This had been a long twenty-four hours in the real world. Punching Jacob, killing my first humanoid computer program, and falling into a tunnel. Running into a sort-of ex-girlfriend, being set on a Grand Rapids swim through barely illuminated water. On top of that, I was trying to be a bit less cowardly in the face of conflict.
Tomorrow didn’t look so hot either.
“MmMhph.” I rocked a bit. “Mmhffph.” Oh neat. If I changed tone, the ripple switched from blue splashes to a deep emerald. Maybe it was the drugs or newness of sensation, but I made noise and hummed in different tones just to see what colors came up. “Hmm hummmhhp mmhhhh.” I tried to get the deep baseline at the end of Beethoven’s piece.
“This way. We’ve got to move.” Edward’s words were an obtrusive green-puke color. It seemed to drip off his mustache and smear through the air with each twitch of his cheek.
“Mmet.” And this whole situation was neat. Only my words were muffled.
“Your boy toy is awake,” TinkerHell said with a cheery wave. She was standing nearby.
Elane pulled us along the floor some more. Part of her heavy armor was gone now. She was down to the chest piece and a dress-like thing that covered her legs.
“Fuck him,” Elane said.
“My dear lady,” Edward started.
I heard her shield slam into something, and a series of ripples spilled across the air. I started giggling into the gag. My body felt sluggish. Everything zoomed in and out with each noise. Distortions were rapidly becoming part of my trippy experience. I had never been high before, but this game seemed to be doing wonders with my perceptions.
“We don’t have enough time, not nearly enough time, and what does he do?” Elane sounded angry, but her words were so pretty to look at. They spiraled through the air, chasing each other like barking dogs made of orange paint.
“It’s not his fault.”
“His autopilot is weird!” Elane completely ignored TinkerHell’s attempt at defense.
“Ladies, keep it down,” Edward harshly chimed in. “Sneaking, we’re sneaking now.”
“You know Gobblers have bad hearing. I could roll Grant into their town and they may not notice.”
“Be that as it may, we’ll never make it with your bickering.” Edward was rubbing one of those claws on his hands against the stone wall. Each scraping of metal against mineral sloughed off a layer of color.
“We could go faster by untying him.”
Elane shot down that idea. “Are you kidding? He ate his share of the ghost mushrooms! He’ll be flying high for days.”
I giggled. The game message still floated nearby. I had been trying to focus on it and remove the pop-up, but concentrating was difficult. Or was it?
“It’s one way to pass time, though selling them would have been more valuable,” Edward responded.
“Well he’s new. Maybe Hermes didn’t know.”
“Either way, we must be going. Untie the poor sod and we’ll try to sprint.”
Edward, what a charming rogue he was. Even I felt smitten, or maybe it was the drugs. [Ghost Mushroom]s were very effective at whatever this was.
My face went playfully serious, and I started nodding. Yes, being untied would be fantastic. The gag came off first. Immediate humming ensued. A country box step pattern came out of my mouth, and it was light green
, almost apple-y. This chromesthesia was really doing a number on me. Along with whatever the general high effect was.
“Grant, this is your quest, try to focus,” Elane said.
At least she hadn’t hit me with the shield yet. Not that anyone had explained how my autopilot had gotten tied up in the first place. Those bindings had been fairly good.
“Elane.” I frowned and bobbed my head. My hands were clasped across each wrist and rubbing where they had been bound. The sensation was marvelous.
“What, Grant?”
“You’re pretty when you’re angry,” I said happily. That didn’t come out right.
“What?” Elane said. Her anger at me seemed to falter due to confusion. Her brows ran together as her forehead scrunched.
“But your mustache has to go,” was my happy commentary to Edward.
He just twitched but there seemed to be a slight smile. “The ladies approve.”
“No, they don’t.” I shook my head and looked around.
TinkerHell was laughing off to one side.
“Where are we going? Did we get to the town place-thing-place? Thing…” Oh god, my brain wasn’t delivering the right messages! This felt wrong. I watched my words spill out in pleasant dark greens and started tilting forward.
“Very batty,” Edward confirmed my mental status.
I nodded more than anyone should and tried not to speak. We were high on a ridge. This seemed to be some sort of half-formed, half-carved walkway that went across a large underground cave. In the distance, a bunch of colors were pulsing with soft, faint waves.
“What’s over there?” I pointed.
“What’s what?”
“Where the color is.” Words were hard to form. Did the others see colors? That was a silly question, of course they saw colors! Dumb me. My head shook slowly.
“Does he mean the chanting?”
I tilted my head and shut both eyes. Having them closed barely muted the mix-up caused by a specialized version of synesthesia. Yes, that was music. Almost like an abbey full of monks chanting in eras gone by. Their voices spun together with a hint of metal vibrations. As if a tuning fork could do a full song.
“You’re humming again,” Elane grumbled.
“MMmh.” My own deep-green noise was laced with veins of blue.
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 50
