Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  “How much farther?” I asked.

  She shrugged. Dusk had a thought bubble that showed a tiny version of himself and a small collection of buildings super far away.

  “Oh? Are we going to a city?” I asked him.

  Shazam turned and gave me a backward glance. Her head bobbed in affirmation. She looked a lot different in the plate garb compared to our snowy mountaintop furs.

  “And you’re going with me?”

  I waited, but she had stopped answering my questions. A minute passed before I realized she had gone into autopilot mode. A clear symbol next to her head depicted a tiny bed.

  “Guess it’s just us,” I said to Dusk.

  He huffed and flew off.

  “Or just me.”

  I needed time to situate myself anyway. This was my first time on a real road outside of town, and I wanted to relish the change of pace. The scenery felt like every documentary of old England I’d seen on television. Rolling countryside, gray skies in the distance, trees—all of it was pleasantly normal.

  My prior adventures had amounted to sitting in a town, crawling through a cave fighting mud golems, and weeks on the top of a snowy mountain. It would be much neater if I could ride a giant flying creature over the lands.

  The [Caliburr] shuddered. My teeth rattled and everything about me shook as the beast huffed and sniffled. Bindings across my legs held me in place amid messages of skill checks regarding [Horsemanship] and [Reaction]. I grabbed the saddle horn in front of me and prayed that this violent seizure wouldn’t send me flying. Eventually, it settled and we started forward again.

  I tilted my head to look at the giant creature moving under me. One eye stared back for just a moment before its ear batted and I was dismissed. Shazam’s creature had done the same violent shaking, but her character seemed completely undisturbed. Even her autopilot was cool and unflappable.

  System Notice!

  Younger [Caliburr]s are prone to shudders. They see an increase in overall speed but require a higher level of skill to ride.

  “Oh.”

  There was another box about my skill going up simply for surviving the shudder action from my [Caliburr]. That was probably why Shazam had us on these things. She had given me training in the mountains following the same pattern.

  Muteness had not prevented Shazam from succeeding at this game. Her skills as a teacher seemed focused on subjecting me to varied experiences. As a result, my character sheet had a lot of random skills.

  None of it was super amazing or world nuking. The game seemed to think I did slightly more damage with my right hand, but I was a lefty. Closing my eyes allowed my sense of smell to increase slightly. The hatred of bugs I had started weeks ago was fully developed. All sorts of weird things like that.

  My player inventory was also a cluster of random items. Most of the things we’d picked up in the mountains were used right away as food or crafting supplies. Shazam had been in charge of nearly everything with regards to monster remains. I didn’t care about the loot. Why should I fight over a [Goo Pile] or [Furry Eyebrow]?

  “All right. Hat, check.” [Wild Bill] was back on my head where it belonged. It gave enough shade to block out the worst of the sun’s glare. “Morrigu’s Gift, shoes, no cloak.”

  My gear was the basic Traveler’s Garb I had been plopped into the woods with. Maybe there was something neat at a store to pick up. That might be fun. Suddenly part of me wanted to go shopping just to see what was available.

  I wondered if it was possible to send things in-game to other players. Maybe there was a souvenir in town I could mail to Beth. Or better yet, I could send one to Elane that said, “Thanks for the memories.” That idea was quashed as it occurred to me. Being a jerk to her over our past wasn’t fair.

  Time passed slowly in-game. Nothing in my player inventory looked entertaining. I moved system windows around randomly. Something new appeared on my interface. What was this? A box for quest items? Somehow that had escaped my notice earlier.

  I clicked one of them and pulled it out of inventory. What appeared in my hand was a scroll, the parchment wrapped by a small piece of twine. Pulling on the string made a system message pop up.

  Quest: A Word of Power

  Difficulty: Varied

  Details: Subject Shazam has displayed the following issues:

  Mute

  Expressionless

  Scans of her biometrics display no reason that her functionality should be limited in our world. Defects regarding a lack of vocal expression should be resolved upon transition of consciousness.

  Extrapolation: Subject Shazam may be suffering from lingering emotional impairment from the other world. Please seek additional information regarding her original life and provide it to me.

  Reward: Subject to usefulness of information provided

  See additional data file.

  The words “see additional data file” floated above the quest text. I pressed a finger toward the interface, and a video came into being then started playing.

  “You have typed the word Shazam as a character name. Why?” Irene was measuring something in a vial while Shazam stood there.

  It looked as though they were in the same character creation black zone that I had visited many times.

  Seeing normal Shazam was mildly interesting. She wore a sundress that hung loosely with a belt that seemed almost too straight. Shazam had no slouch, no turn of body; her entire form was rigid and faced a single direction. Dark skin still barely hid her freckles.

  There was a keyboard in front of her. Her fingers tapped against the projection, and a series of words appeared.

  I admire the idea that someone can gain power simply by speaking a word.

  The video imagery cut off. Clearly the word Shazam meant something to her in the real world. It wasn’t anything special right now, so I put the research topic on my mental pile. These types of things were done while sitting in my Trillium van. For now, I would accept the quest and move onward.

  Next, figuring out these remaining scrolls. The one for this latest quest had crumbled to pieces. I had four more with destinations and names attached. Were these players too?

  I picked up each parchment and watched a distant quest marker appear on the horizon. None were close by. Shazam must communicate somehow with the Voices; she would never randomly escort me off the mountain. I would have to ask what her trick was whenever she got back from autopilot.

  Dusk hopped around in the shrubbery nearby. He set his vicious thoughts upon chasing some slithering creature through the bushes. I could barely see a tiny bubble of thought bounding around. It seemed like typical Dusk actions so far. New place, murder the local critters and declare superiority, move on.

  Hours passed in-game while I looked around and fiddled with my inventory. Most of my extra time was spent trying to shift [Morrigu’s Gift] into different forms. A pole had been the first alternate shape after my walking staff form. The arm-length dagger was new. Eventually the silly thing would transform into a wide range of weapons.

  Transforming the object interested me. It wasn’t about finding the perfect shape to play with. My [Blade Dancer] path focused on large weapons, which clearly suited me. Switching around [Morrigu’s Gift] just kept me from being bored. One day I would find something else to play with while traveling.

  Finally, things grew beyond dull. I logged out and handled the necessities of life. My home’s digital projection hookup allowed me to monitor Continue Online remotely with ease. A small window floated near me in real life, courtesy of the projection hardware mounted along my ceiling. If I switched rooms, the projection followed. The only thing on my ARC television was a picture of Hermes looking bored and strapped to the [Caliburr].

  There was a moment of excitement as Dusk landed. He seemed displeased with my autopilot and huffed at my video game character’s face. Real me absently watched it while sipping coffee. I was distracted and trying to figure out sleep. Mine had been pretty broken since start
ing Continue Online.

  Home felt cramped and boring. I took a walk to clear my head. Stepping outside also made me feel like a real human being who didn’t just sit and play video games all day.

  Living in Continue Online for many hours had almost distracted me from the technological advances of the real world. Compared to the leather straps holding Hermes in place on the back of a [Caliburr], reality was space age.

  Our world had been flooded with innovations in the last decade. Going into the supermarket resulted in targeted ads that picked my name and purchase history out of a line. The audio was basically beamed at my location by an overhead system, though there was a mute button always off to one side. I had to suffer through five seconds of advertisements first.

  Cars zipped down the street and dropped people off. People got out, and the cars moved on to other users. Some places didn’t own their own vehicles and instead pooled together to rent two or three automated cars for a neighborhood. It was great for poor areas and a lot cheaper.

  Walking home showed roads with sidewalks that were illuminated by using stored solar power. They were less offensive than the overhead lamp of twenty years ago. All of these lights were managed by a hub every few blocks. Hubs were mounted on pillars that stood two stories tall and ran facial recognition software. For two dollars a month, I could choose to highlight the sidewalk around me in green instead of the standard blue.

  Decades ago, people had wondered how far was “too far” with regards to the Internet and technological monitoring. Ten years ago, movements had demanded a ban on the higher-end products. Now those people who cared could move to areas that were nearly blacked out from the more modern innovations. It was weird to think that ten percent of the population wanted to be stuck in the past.

  We, humanity, had worked hard at arguing with each other over new innovations and the illusion of privacy. I was okay living in my neighborhood, where it felt like things were convenient but Big Brother wasn’t breathing down my neck.

  A robotic lawn mower was busy cleaning up one man’s lawn. It trimmed hedges, edged sidewalks, and even spouted a “Hello” as I walked by. Three children shot by while playing digital laser tag. All this felt normal compared to the fantasy world within Continue.

  After two hours of head clearing, I wound my way back home. This was the world that Xin and I had lived in. This wonderland of technology wasn’t in Continue Online. The closest thing inside my game were pop-up boxes with information.

  It was funny. All these advances, and I spent my time inside a game stabbing monsters with a sword that didn’t truly exist. Digital immersion was by far one of the scariest bits of modern technology available to humanity.

  When I was inside the ARC, everything felt real. I laughed, I cried, I interacted with a pet that could have put Mister Sniffles to shame. It felt like real life. Our minds were at the mercy of the machine, and we just accepted it.

  Getting out of the house was an excuse. The last few days had dumped loads of information upon me. What I needed was time to process it. Hadn’t I told James long ago that both sides were real? Hadn’t I danced with a false version of my fiancée to avoid feeling lonely?

  To Xin or whatever compilation of memories she was, it would be utterly real. To her, it was everything. That was the angle I had to approach things from. What did this recreation of Xin see? What would she care?

  I logged back into the ARC with a firm plan in mind. Real Grant lay calmly on a cleverly costumed machine. Digitally, inside Hermes, my legs were still strapped to the [Caliburr]. The sun was setting and our mounts were slowing further. Dusk had curled up for a nap on my shoulder while his tail anchored around my neck.

  Everything had to start with contacting my personal Voice. I pulled items out of player inventory and penned a message to James asking, “I would like to send Xin a letter. How can I do that?”

  A good ten minutes passed in-game with no answer yet. I’d outright asked James a question by putting his stupid name at the memo’s top.

  I rattled my tube and waited for heat or chill or something to kick in. There was no solid result one way or the other. I unscrewed the top, and the inside was annoyingly empty. Fine.

  “Shazam!”

  She was still away. Her autopilot was leading us off to one side of the road.

  I had a vague idea of how to set up camp from off and on practice in the mountains. Shazam’s autopilot was pulling out gear mechanically and putting up two tents. We hadn’t used tents on the mountain. There we stuck to caves. Part of me wondered exactly how much gear she had packed away.

  Unstrapping myself looked simple enough. There was a knot near the saddle’s front that could easily be undone. Halfway through untangling the bindings, my [Caliburr] started shuddering. The violent movements sent me off to one side, where large clawed feet bucked and almost tore my face. I rolled off in a panic and stood.

  Shazam’s autopilot seemed undisturbed and had started cooking. I brushed myself off and tried to pretend a giant rabbit hadn’t almost crushed my head. Besides, Shazam’s cooking was great. Mechanical, but tasty. It was as if her mind sorted everything into perfect formulas and put things together with precise measurements.

  I glared at the giant [Caliburr] and tried to figure out what to do. Typically, my role in camp setup was nonexistent. Shazam was too efficient. Maybe one day I would find a good hobby. Finally, after twenty minutes, Shazam logged back in.

  “Hey. I had a question.”

  I was happy that Shazam always seemed to respond right away. She frequently logged in and out throughout any given day.

  Shazam alternated lifting both thumbs in the air. Our poor communication skills meant that she was asking for more information. At least, that’s what it normally meant.

  “So I have an Ultimate Edition, and I was told you do too,” I said.

  She blinked slowly and kept on cooking without missing a beat. Items spilled out of player inventory onto a small table that had been unpacked. Shazam piled them together and diced up an object that looked like an onion but was green.

  “Do”—oh, this was going to sound crazy—“the Voices talk to you? I mean, they must give you quests or something.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “How do they talk to you?” Thankfully my crazy talking hadn’t made her think less of me at all. Of course, this young woman had put my character in painful situations for weeks on end.

  Shazam put both her hands up next to her head and pantomimed sleeping.

  “In your dreams?” I asked.

  She nodded and took out spices. She threw them into a travel-sized cooking pan, and everything sizzled. Her autopilot was a master at starting fires. Mine was a master at humming and tapping its foot when left alone.

  “Like in real life or in the ARC?” I said.

  Shazam pointed down. Okay, so she slept in-game and the Voices sent her messages while sleeping? Why had that never worked for me? I had been exhausted and unconscious in the game a few times. Not once did any of the Voices visit me. Well, aside from my dying once and being intercepted by the Jester figure. Its interference with my normal failure process had been limited to one instance so far.

  I chewed on my lip. Shazam handed me a piece of meat and pointed at the fire. Right, even the simple act of roasting it would help my meager cooking skills. In real life, I had turned into a microwave-meal-and-takeout eater. The only homemade meals available to me were on holidays and what Xin had insisted on making when she was home.

  Xin.

  “Shazam, have you ever met anyone you know from real life in here?” I asked.

  She nodded and shrugged. I took that to mean yes but that they weren’t close.

  “You’ve done player-versus-player, right?” I switched tactics. Maybe she had some advice on how to handle Requiem.

  Shazam seemed to have done a little bit of everything, based on my experiences with her. Her achievements were insanely far above my own if she was leading a guild. She nod
ded while I went about my poor attempts at cooking. It boiled down to shoving a stick through the meat and hanging it over the flame.

  “Do you know how to win against a player you’re not allowed to attack?” I asked.

  She tilted her head while wrapping up the last of our cooking supplies. Items vanished away into her inventory. Soon Shazam was left with only food in a bowl.

  “Right. Well, if you think of anything, I’m all ears,” I said.

  Shazam went about eating while I pondered other situations. It was perplexing that we were allowed to exit [Camp Gray Skull] with ease. I checked my player map. It was slowly gathering a reasonable amount of data, though there was still no connection between the old [Haven Valley] information and my current location. [Camp Gray Skull] was already a few days behind us.

  “So should we be letting those Caliburrs get close to each other?” I pointed at the two giant horse-rabbit monsters sniffing each other.

  Shazam gave a thumbs-down and set her food on the ground. I watched a series of almost mechanical movements as she stood and walked toward them, clapping loudly. They both perked their heads up to stare at Shazam.

  “Need help?” I asked.

  She shook her head briefly and proceeded to separate them. One was tied in place as the other bolted to a location twenty feet away.

  I tried to scroll through my autopilot’s history even further. The bits of information being presented painted a simple enough picture. According to the computer’s text, I had fallen, nearly died, been healed, walked down the mountain, and picked up two [Caliburr]s for travel.

  I slowly chewed the last of my meal. This was kind of neat. We must have left right after my character exited the glitch space. Oh, that reminded me of another issue. I flipped back through information logs and walls of text from my autopilot time in order to figure out how the bug-reporting process had gone.

  System Notice!

  Reward issued. Please access the nearest Porter for your reward.