Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Quests, unique gear, and quest mobs, the entire place was a money-maker that would last at least another month. Long enough that more players might catch up or find ways in. He had to be quick and work hard to get the most profit.

  Bills, his father’s credit card debts, and other costs stacked up extremely high. There were too many for one nineteen-year-old to handle alone. Maybe in another few months, some might be paid off. Then he could move out of that crappy trailer and get a real house.

  “If only I could have taken that weapon away. I could have gained so much from that.” Requiem shook his fist in frustration. “Or used it myself.”

  No one was listening to him though. Requiem spoke to himself to fill up the strange silence this landscape created.

  On day three of looting the landscape, he got a system message.

  Warning!

  User Requiem Mass, your character is being forcibly logged out pending review by Trillium. Please halt your current actions and get to a safe location. Log-out will commence in two minutes.

  Infraction reported: Age violation during beta testing period

  Expected results: Due to the cumulative impact beta testing provided, all current progresses are subject to review and possible rollback.

  Additional details: This is registered as a self-reported issue. For showing remorse and reporting the issue prior to Trillium review, legal action for falsification of personal records may not be pursued.

  “What?” Requiem screamed and rapidly tried to gather up the nearest items. If he was fast enough, they could be sent through the town mailbox to his contractors. “Ahh!”

  He yanked out a scroll of [Recall]. One finger jammed onto the trigger rune and twisted to activate. Letters flared to life with an orange brilliance. Everything about Requiem swiftly faded away. Soon he was running full bore through the streets of [Midnight Sun], the town where Requiem went to send his items.

  There was only one [Porter], only one pedestal. No other players here meant the line was minimal. Requiem saddled up, slammed a hand down, and flipped through menu options. A character could always be redone; it would hurt, but life went on. Losing the money these items represented was something else entirely.

  System Notice!

  Recipient [JustJokerThings] not available. User has been temporarily banned pending Trillium review.

  Review reason: Selling virtual material from Continue Online in exchange for real life compensation.

  This message is made public to ensure all users are aware of the possible repercussions. Please review Trillium’s terms of use.

  “What?” Requiem panicked and tried the next one. Seconds dwindled away as each one of his fences displayed the same results. He tried not to think about how his concise little system had crumbled around him. Not only was his character at risk, but so was his means of gaining money.

  They would not be happy to find themselves banned. People like them were never happy.

  Requiem could only figure out one answer. Someone had targeted him, though who, and why, was beyond him. He threw out both hands and cursed loudly. “Fu—”

  The log-out countdown hit zero, and Requiem Mass vanished from the world of Continue Online.

  Outside the game, he was a real person. His trailer looked rundown and empty. Anything of value had been pawned off in order to pay bills. A small message icon displayed on his ARC display.

  From: Anonymous

  Message: In many ways, this is me repaying a debt. Both for revenge and as thanks. You’ve helped me understand what kind of person I am, and who I’m not. Maybe we can both consider this a lesson learned and do better from here forward. Or maybe not.

  I’ll be watching.

  Attached were multiple billing statements. Each piece of virtual paper represented one of the debts shackling him to parental mistakes. Their balances showed zero amounts due. Forty thousand dollars in all, enough to pressure him into acting the way he did. A cheap unpaid trailer home, bank loans, the kind of money a poor teen would never have. Gone, taken care of.

  He stared at his hobbled-together ARC. It was assembled from leftover parts scrounged up at electronic stores, garage sales, and online auctions. No longer did the quality matter. Matthew could go get a part-time job and earn legitimate money without the constant worry of being caught and thrown in jail. Maybe he could play the game for fun instead of profit.

  Matthew didn’t know if he should cry out of relief or outrage, so he did both.

  Residence: Lia Kingsley – Long-Term Care Building

  Time: 9:01 AM CST

  Continue Online Avatar: Shazam

  Total Play Time: 1 Year, 6 months, 12 days (Logged in)

  If Matthew’s ARC was a cobbled-together piece of junk, the one now in front of Grant went in the other direction. It came with all the bells and whistles, but medical equipment was attached to both sides. A few tubes ran up to a woman’s pale skin. Her tone would be far darker if she went outside, but it looked as though the girl spent most of her time indoors, trapped inside this machine.

  A short nurse with exaggerated blond curls came into the room. “Mmmh. Are you a friend of Lia’s?”

  The nurse wore glasses, which seemed odd since laser surgery was cheap. Even after all these years, nurses wore different outfits from everyone else. It was part of an image that never seemed to die.

  “Sort of. I know her in-game,” Grant said. He had come into the room to try to talk to the other player but felt conflicted upon seeing the situation. Lia, or Shazam, was apparently on life support.

  “Oh! I thought I recognized you. You’re that fellow she’s been traveling with for a few weeks now, right?” The nurse stepped in a bit farther. She seemed more friendly and even shorter.

  “Hermes. Or Grant. Either one feels normal.” He put out a hand to shake.

  The nurse took it lightly with a turned in wrist. “Did she invite you here?” She maintained an edge of wariness. This wing of the hospital was open to general visitation, but they still checked people for reasons.

  “No. A colleague of mine wanted to know more about her in order to help. I cheated a bit to find out about her,” he said.

  The wording made her frown in disapproval. “I think maybe you should leave.”

  “My friend is kind of a doctor, but says that Shazam—Lia—should be able to talk in-game, but she never does.” Grant scratched the back of his head with one hand.

  “You can either leave on your own, or I’ll call security.” The nurse felt her duty included watching out for an unconscious woman. Lia was young, and the world wasn’t always peaceful.

  Instead of acting offended or worried, he stepped away from Lia and asked the nurse, “Do you know why she picked the name Shazam?”

  “Mmmh. No.” The nurse turned her head slightly to glare at Grant.

  “Lia told this doctor I know.” He took a breath and tried to speak in a different tone. “‘I admire the idea that someone can gain power simply by speaking a word.’”

  “So?” The nurse’s face softened a little.

  Maybe Grant wasn’t creepy. Maybe he really was a concerned person trying to help out. The nurse and their onsite doctor had discussed the very same issue once. In some ways, it was remarkable that Lia could even operate an ARC device. Brain waves were slightly different than physical disabilities. Not everything could be boiled down into a mind lighting up in a specific way. Even using an ARC had taken Lia days of alignment practice and image focusing.

  “Inside the ARC, she can speak. She wants to but doesn’t. Why is that?” Grant asked. His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

  The nurse blinked a few times then decided that giving the man some information might not hurt. He didn’t seem threatening, just out of place. “Mmmh. What do you know about gene babies?”

  Grant knew about them, but only about as much as any American. Science had reached a level where the rich could try to modify their children’s DNA prior to birth. Turning the child of two brown-haire
d people into a blonde, or trying to map out a life that would let them be taller, faster, whatever. Most results were difficult to distinguish, but some went very, very wrong.

  “Oh, Voices,” he muttered. “I remember the news; I was a teen when they first started noticing the side effects. Is she…?”

  “Mmh. Her parents leave her here because we have better care and it’s cheaper,” the nurse said.

  Grant smiled a little. “Should you tell me that?”

  “It’s an open secret.” The nurse shrugged. She walked around the room and checked towels and other items while speaking. “When they first started popping up, someone hacked into the medical records and leaked out every name, so it’s out there already.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “So it goes. Anyway, an ARC is the only thing that lets her do anything.” The blond nurse shrugged to Grant with an over-the-shoulder look. Moments later, she moved on to the next shelf to check more supplies. “Out here, there’re tests and feeding tubes, but in there, she goes on adventures. I’m half convinced to buy it myself.”

  Grant gave a larger smile. “Maybe you should.”

  “Mmmh.”

  “Do I still need to leave?” Grant asked while rubbing the back of his head with a free hand. He managed to look sheepish.

  The nurse studied Grant again. Glancing up and down, then once more. Finally, her lips flattened and she said, “Visiting hours end at five. Don’t push your luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be quiet,” he said.

  Her soft-soled feet padded out the door. He waited a few more seconds before going back to the far side of Lia’s ARC and pulling up a chair. The carpet barely let out a whisper of noise compared to Grant’s heavy footsteps.

  He held both hands together as if in prayer. His elbows sat on the edge of a table next to Lia’s ARC. Grant chewed one lip in thought before finally picking a place to start. “So I swung for the fences. You shoulda seen me.”

  Residence: Stan Middlemire – Office

  Time: 5:51 PM CST

  Continue Online Avatar: Frankenstein

  Total Play Time: 0 Years, 9 months, 21 days (Logged in)

  Old-fashioned bells clanged. The room itself contained a number of chairs and one counter. On the other side of the counter was a man wearing an expensive suit.

  “Hello!” said the man standing behind a waist-high counter top. He smiled at Grant but managed to straddle a line between friendly and over-the-top.

  “Hi,” Grant said while looking around. Grant hadn’t been in an office like this in years. Not since being fired from his prior job.

  “Greetings. We here at the Stone Firm greet you,” a more mechanical-sounding voice spoke near Grant.

  He looked over to see a holographic display with a friendly-looking robot projected on it. “Is Stan here?” Grant asked while looking between the two presences in the room.

  “Stan is validating files. Are you a guest?” the hologram said.

  “Sort of. I have a message for him.”

  “In the back,” the man behind the counter said. “Room seven. It’ll be unlocked for you.”

  There was a beep, and a path lit along the floor. Green arrows directed Grant to one of the rooms in the back. Grant made it to room seven and saw a man in the midst of a mess. A long table sat in the middle of a room. Even more tables were on either side. Old-fashioned paper printouts were all over.

  The man at the table shuffled a document into the one clear spot on the table for a few seconds. A device nearby dinged a happy noise. The man looked at the document and back at a digital projection hovering to one side. His face looked similar to the online persona, only the man in person seemed to drag at the shoulders. His eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep.

  “Stan?” Grant questioned.

  The sudden voice startled Stan. “Uh, eh. Hello.”

  “I have a message from a friend of mine.” Grant felt uncomfortable in this room. It reminded him about too many portions of his past. Grant had never kept his office in such a state. He preferred things neat and minimal. Stan looked to be at home in clutter.

  “Uh. A letter? Do-do people still do letters?” Stan squinted for a moment then frowned.

  “In some places.” Grant smiled pleasantly. He felt comfortable interacting with other people, though this was a bit outside his normal setting.

  “Oh. Okay.” Stan nodded. “Where’s the message?”

  “It’s verbal,” Grant said. The entire reason for this trip was to talk to Frankenstein in person. To get a measure of the man behind the online character. So far, there was a drastic difference between his frilly character and this slim, button-downed office worker. “He says that Requiem has been taken care of.”

  “That’s… all right, what?” The man appeared sheepish about the mess on his desk. Stan kept straightening up objects while Grant stood in the doorway.

  Grant chewed his lip for a moment then nodded. “Requiem may have killed your character in Continue, but he didn’t win.”

  “Uh. Are you sure?” Stan’s head pulled back a ways. He wore drab clothes which only were visible as the pile of clutter straightened out.

  “Very. My friend had a few hours to check over and over. It’s taken care of.” Grant smiled again. He’d looked into Requiem’s fate more than once.

  “Who is your friend?” Stan squinted again and blinked. He was nothing like his in-game character. Grant had encountered two other Continue Online players, and no one seemed to be like their characters.

  Perhaps that was part of the point.

  “He would prefer to stay out of this. That’s why he asked me to deliver his message in person,” Grant answered.

  “Uh. Oh. Well, thank you. I’m glad.” Stan found something else to tidy up and almost blushed upon meeting Grant’s gaze. Not from flirtation, but embarrassment at the state of his office. It might have been the anatomy printings that lay buried under miles of legal paperwork.

  “This may sound silly out loud, but he’s sorry he didn’t work very well with you after you freed him.” Grant didn’t step into the room. Both men were about the same age and very different looking.

  “Freed… him?” Stan said while sitting up a bit straighter. His clothes hung very loosely on a bony frame.

  “I don’t understand it all myself. I’m just the messenger.” Grant still had a belly even after the weight loss from his bands.

  “Well, thank you. Uh, was there anything else?” Stan asked.

  “No, sir. You have a good day, Stan.”

  “Wait, uh, what was your name?” The scarecrow that was Stan stood and walked around the table’s edge to get closer to Grant. One hand reached out to shake the heavyset fellow’s hand.

  “Grant.”

  “Thank you, Grant.” They shook hands and Stan seemed a much happier person. “Best and most confusing news I’ve ever received.”

  Residence: Home of The Voices

  Time: 7:08:32 PM CST

  Continue Online Avatar: XU-233, aka Xin Yu

  Total Play Time: Eternity

  “And now you know,” The Jester clacked. It seemed neither happy nor sad regarding the outcome. Bells jingled with each movement.

  “I never doubted it for a moment. Gee isn’t a murderer,” Xin Yu said. She felt far more comfortable within her own skin, or the digital version of it. Being flesh or digital almost felt as if an inconsequential distinction.

  “We had no way of knowing for sure unless he was pushed to an extreme.” James had only the barest hint of a smile. He was proud of the outcome, as if everything about Grant fell within his projections.

  Xin, however, was far more upset. “You used me as bait to test him.” She sat down cross-legged while staring into a projection of the real world. His life had been captured by one digital device at a time. Each picture and video meshed together to recreate reality.

  “Of course. Does this upset you?” James asked.

  “Of course,” she snapped back with a heav
y lacing of sarcasm. “But he does all this for a memory of a woman who died. Not me, not exactly.”

  “Are you worried that he may not really love you?” James followed up with another question. They never ceased to pour forth from the black man’s lips.

  “Of course I am! I’m hardly the same.” She shook her head as her words faltered for a moment. The larger black man looked interested. “I’m not flesh and blood.”

  “In here you are real,” James said.

  The Jester laughed in the background. Other Voices moved about their business in an endless stream of chores needed to keep this reality afloat.

  “But does Gee still… can he care for someone stuck in a box?” Xin Yu’s words were softer than normal.

  “If my measure of the man is correct, he cares about you a great deal and will continue to care about you. He has demonstrated that despite any perceived notions most Travelers carry with them.” James strode around the recreation of Grant’s last twenty-four hours.

  “Even though I’m not the same?” Xin Yu was stuck on that point. She was the adventurous one, sure, but the situation between her and Grant couldn’t be boiled down to a simple concept.

  “Tut. There’s no good answer for what we’re doing here. You’re a child with a woman’s memories. Concentrate on yourself and find a place in this world.” Maud, the apron-wearing Voice, walked through. In each hand, she pinched a child’s ear and dragged them across the blackness all Voices resided in.

  “But what about Gee?” Xin Yu reached out for his figure again, but her fingers passed through the image.

  “What about him?” James asked.

  “Stop that.” Maud’s charges vanished as she spun to give James a whack. “Give the poor girl a straight answer.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” He glared at the plump woman with cloven feet.

  She turned and clomped off after another running, giggling child.

  “Hermes has several problems pulling at him. Each one allows us to measure him better,” James said slowly.