Please be aware that backup functionality is limited until synchronization is complete. Changes to your programming and physical makeup will not save automatically. Consult your personal guide for further details.
Wait, the computer had basically built in an excuse for not knowing how to adapt to my brain waves? I knew the ARC took a few weeks of image training to sync up with a normal person. The machine didn’t come with some magical ability to read minds and project details.
When I first got mine, it had taken two days to get basic commands lined up correctly. Hours passed as I imagined walking forward and ended up stumbling. Now though, the thing practically hopped when I asked for something.
I thought about walking, and both feet went forth to conquer the space in front of me. Speaking took a lot longer. I tried moving this metal body in a dead bug wiggle. Arms, legs, feet. Everything clanked around wildly. The new player next to me was already marching off, with a broken stutter, toward destinations unknown.
Full Body movement successful
+1 [Agility]
A message popped up that made me pause the wiggling and blink. Stat windows never did much for me in Continue Online. In that game, I almost felt as though my skills and abilities mattered only as a measure of how I played, rather than how hard I had ground out some skill.
I had no idea how relevant skill points were here either. Both arms went up in the same balancing movement I had tried to do with the [Behemoth] character. Theoretically, [Mechanoid]s had exceptionally fine motor skills. Probably from being a robotic shell. Computers in real life were very precise when programmed correctly.
A small icon flashed to one side of my vision. I focused and, sure enough, it responded like anything in Continue Online. Information came up about my chosen race, citing bonuses and drawbacks that meant nothing to me. Near the information window was a tab for active quests, which I focused on next.
Race: [Mechanoid]
Default Coloration: Clear
Base Stats:
Skills tied to [Adaptability] receive a 20% bonus in growth
Skills tied to [Mental] growth suffer a 20% penalty in growth
Biological Skills are not accessible
Any toxins or side effects tied to flesh-based functions are negated
Additional damage is received by skills targeting metals
Attention unit identified as Hermes!
As with all skills, additional quests may cause modifications to a unit’s current status. Nothing should be assumed as final. The universe is vast!
Four tasks were displayed. Each one was listed as optional. Advance Online seemed indifferent and content to let me wander the halls. I figured simple missions might be at least mildly interesting. If nothing else, this would help me experience what Continue hadn’t.
I walked toward one titled [Clean the Sensor Array], mostly because it was in an opposite direction from the other new player. People flooded my daily life. Running into them in-game while I was sulking would be aggravating. Plus, it was cleaning. That was a task even I could accomplish.
The [Mechanoid] programming included a minimap. My meandering route along a dotted line eventually reached one of the ship’s outer hulls. The ship seemed to only be a thousand feet long or so. There were seven floors and probably a hangar near the back.
The outside portion was a walkway along one of the top floors. I pulled myself out of system messages and maps to see a wall of stars on the left. My heartbeat stuttered, and I threw myself against the inner wall.
“Goodness,” I said while huffing.
A passing [Mechanoid] with pink coloring didn’t glance in my direction. An NPC icon floated above her head.
Space was… spacious. Seeing it in my Atrium had felt normal because my feet were on solid ground. This giant starship boat had inertia and mild force carrying us forth. The biggest issue had to be a lack of water to fall into. On an ocean cruiser, I could fall in and swim around. Here, if I fell, the ship would vanish into the distance.
I dodged into the first available door and took an inside route to my quest marker. That felt safer and far less like eternity might swallow me up. Space was just too spacious. There was an overabundance of it that I couldn’t wrap my mind around.
My robotic body trembled a little. A message displayed progression with synchronization, but it hadn’t reached completion. There were a few small window panels on the walk to my quest. I stopped to glance out each one, feeling more at ease with visible walls safely holding me in.
By the tenth window, I felt a little less shaken up. I braved standing in the doorway and looking out, like an animal scared of the unknown. Xin had been insanely brave to want this kind of life. I tried to picture her up here, hanging in a landless array of lights between worlds.
Hadn’t I decided back in Continue Online to not be afraid of this sort of stuff? Wasn’t this only a video game inside a digital world? Finally, after much hesitation, I moved out of the doorway. One step forward at a time, until I finally reached a wall of energy that sizzled against my hand.
“It’s beautiful.” And frightening.
“Indeed. Eons ago, when our progenitors were first conceived, some of them looked above and dreamed of this vastness. A freedom to go anywhere,” commented a [Mechanoid] NPC passing by.
“It’s huge.” I stared in wonder.
“The possibilities of space are high enough to be effectively endless, Unit Hermes.” This [Mechanoid] was short and colored with a series of gold streaks.
I wanted to get a design on this player shell. It felt boringly gray. “I knew—know—someone who would love it up here.”
“Ah. Your designation shows that of a new unit. Are you one of those who retain their consciousness from old Earth?” Her words seemed to play into a prebuilt explanation for abnormal talking. At least in the world of Continue Online, they cleared it by being Travelers from another world.
“I guess,” I said while absorbing the details of our conversation. Maybe one day I would stop to read the user manual instead of playing immediately. It seemed unlikely. Games were one of the few things that felt better just diving in.
“Welcome. You must be here to help clean the sensor arrays then,” she said while looking up. The female [Mechanoid] was both shorter and more pronounced on the curves. Her face was far livelier than many units I had passed during my walk out here.
“I’ve got some time,” I said. She didn’t exactly stir my interest as one person to another, but maybe robots found her interesting. If robots even found physical looks interesting. Some of the Voices within Continue Online certainly cared.
“Yes. Your units were a perplexing anomaly. One day I shall peek under your chassis to see what engine core causes such irregularities.” She stared at me for a moment with a creepy sort of longing. I swear the [Mechanoid]’s fingers were twitching with anticipation.
“Please warn me beforehand.”
“Of course. Peeking under another Mechanoid’s casing without permission is taboo.” She gave the most realistic frown I had ever seen on a robot shell. Her hand came up and pointed toward the path back inside. “If you walk this way, I will provide you the proper enhancements for hull walking.”
“I have to go out there?” I assumed hull walking meant going around on the ship’s outside. Right now there was a field of energy between the great abyss and me.
“Of course. There would be no need to clean the sensors if they were internal.” Her head shook as we turned around. “Our ByteMites are perfectly able to take care of small issues.”
“ByteMites?”
“ByteMites.” The golden one pointed toward two small robotic creatures that looked kind of like mice mixed with vacuum cleaners. They scooted around the corners, picking up small items.
I had no [Identification] skill to use, so their exact details were beyond me. Adapting to a new game without old skills would cause confusion. Voices, I would miss having [Blink] to get around. That ability had be
come brokenly overpowered.
“Do you have a name?” I asked as we walked back to the inner track.
“This unit is called Treasure.” Her tone of voice involved a duo of sweetness and exhaustion. Each one of these robot creatures had two separate voices overlapping.
“It’s nice to meet you, Treasure.” I tried to remember my manners for meeting new people. My own voice felt flat and uninteresting.
“Please walk inside the alcove there, and you’ll be provided details on this task.” Treasure pointed to a corner that looked like a walk-in shower.
A small hovering arrow floated up and down there, similar to how Continue directed me around. At least some items were familiar.
I stepped inside and waited. The walls came in like a press on either side, wrapping around my legs first. I tried to jerk away, then a clasp locked around my chest, then my shoulders. Words printed in blue across my line of sight seemed like subtitles or a marker.
“What?” I tried to move but couldn’t.
Something tickled… no, itched… buzzed? No words exactly fit the sensation.
Attention unit identified as Hermes!
Please wait. Model enhancements underway. New information will be provided upon completion.
“How long does this take?”
“Your modifications should be done shortly. I will provide additional details while they are being performed.” Treasure’s voice made me think of slow-dripping syrup.
“Okay.” These games would be so much easier with actual dialogue choices. “Anything you can tell me would help.”
“Anything?” Treasure raised an eyebrow and smiled.
Again I was startled by her expression. My confusion wasn’t due to seeing a video game character look alive, but seeing a robot do it. Hal Pal could use a few lessons.
“Anything related to the mission,” I clarified and half smiled.
“Ah, yes. Contribution to the Consortium is paramount,” Treasure said with a single nod.
“So I’ve heard.” They liked the word contribution.
“You will gain contribution value by completing the tasks assigned. Higher difficulty tasks will reward higher contribution.”
“Okay. That makes sense,” I said. She’d basically told me I could gain points in reputation or something similar. Reallife work equated to paychecks and performance reviews; in-game work turned into contribution.
“Since you are an extremely new unit, it is worth advising you that contribution can be exchanged for unit efficiency increases.” Treasure stared at me for a bit longer than normal.
It was only after we locked eyes that I realized neither of us were blinking. That felt weird. I tried to blink but didn’t seem able to. My body rocked as one arm tried to come up and feel how my eyes were formed. But the material locked around me kept everything still, and the ticklish-itching kept right on going. A rolling sense of numbness kept transferring between both feet and hands.
“In some cases, task completion and continued performance will increase your parameters. This should all be in your standard interface directives.” Treasure turned to a display hanging on the wall.
I looked at it with her and took note of the map displaying black spots. “What is that on the screen?”
“One moment. I am attuning your visual interface to our outside hull. This will allow you to see the portions that need to be cleaned.”
Treasure didn’t seem to be doing any such thing. She stood there staring at the wall, and a second loading bar appeared to her side. It moved much faster than the [Model Enhancement] status.
With a ping, a small screen popped up and floated in front of my face. I failed to blink a few times, then focused on the small window. The map grew bigger and showed our ship floating through space. Black spots littered the sides but mostly gathered near one side.
“Neat,” I said.
“Simply dislodge any objects you find. Sensors are found on the forward portion and sides, here and here.” She pointed at the screen, and glowing areas showed up on my map interface.
Attention unit identified as Hermes!
Chassis upgrade received: [Anchor]
Enhancement Details: When activated, this will increase your grip on various metallic objects. [Anchor] performs best when locking onto high concentrations of iron, nickel, and cobalt.
The system went on to tell me that an energy drain would apply. I did the math and determined this ability could last a few minutes.
“Portions of your makeup have been exchanged with Neodymium. Activation takes a minor amount of time and will concentrate the elements to your hands and feet as a default.”
“So I’m a giant magnet.” I didn’t understand exactly what space science created this lifeform. A robotic man was more likely than the ARC’s strange abilities.
If I asked, these other [Mechanoid]s would probably explain, if I kept playing long enough to care. If Liz locked me out of Continue Online forever, this might be my only place to relax. I would have to relax without Xin, Dusk, or any of the other Travelers I had gotten to know.
“When you want to be, Unit Hermes,” she said with a smile. “Now please, Unit Hermes, go forth and achieve great contribution to the Consortium.”
The machine released me, and my movements felt a bit jerkier. My skin had a tingle that hadn’t been there before. Not like the numbness or itching when the shower-stall-like vise had trapped me. No, this was like having a sunburn.
“Okay.” I nodded. This game was neat too, in terms of ARC feedback for the world details.
Thirty minutes later, I was walking around on the hull. My shock over endless stars still lingered, but my resolution to be braver held true. All that time spent as William Carver, Hermes, and even the [Red Imp] Spite helped me adapt to the new situation fairly quickly. Having a death-grip magnet ability helped.
“Whoa!” I said as my energy bar flashed yellow. I scrambled for one of the handholds, little places to grip and hang onto. They were planted every fifty feet. “Still. There’s a lot to clean up. This is probably going to take forever, huh, Dusk?”
Talking to the small dragon-like creature had become habit after a few relative months inside Continue Online. The [Messenger’s Pet] didn’t cross through games with me though, so I was basically talking to myself.
“It’s like the world’s dirtiest dish.” I surveyed the landscape of Wayfarer Seven. So far, my first non-Voice-induced quest felt dull.
My energy bar had finished recharging, so I wandered the hull, picking up any manner of items. Some were globs of goo. I assumed it was space bird crap like on a car. There were places with smudges of dirt that I brushed off with a giant mop-like tool. The item itself thankfully came with a belt and tether so I never lost it when [Anchor] wore off. In addition, actual space debris flew by and needed to be dodged. If bathroom cleanup was a mini-game somewhere, it was probably just as boring.
I came close to falling off six or seven times before cleaning one of the huge areas.
The work was absorbing, if monotonous. The solitude gave me time to sort myself out regarding Xin, Liz, Beth, and everyone else. During one of the pauses for energy recovery, I fired up the ARC’s messaging system. Luckily it worked the same here as in Continue Online.
Grant Legate: Hi, munchkin. If you want to talk about what happened, please let me know. You’re an adult now, so you have a right to have it explained.
Maybe Beth didn’t have a right to know. Honestly, my attempted suicide could be no one’s business but my own. But she was my niece, and Doctor Litt had okayed it if I wanted to tell her.
The only real difference here was waiting for the time dilation difference. Continue Online didn’t accept relative conversation with the outside world. While it ran four-to-one, nearly no other program did. Advance Online seemed to operate at a two-to-one, but it wasn’t as impressive.
Elizabeth Legate: Uncle Grant, Mom’s still really mad. She keeps waiting for you to call her. We’re worried. Are
you okay?
My energy bar recovered, so I paced the hull, halfheartedly cleaning. The actions felt therapeutic, like straightening a cluttered desk or organizing a messy closet. Only the ship was shiny, despite the blackness of space. I couldn’t figure out if the hull was illuminated by fancy material or by future robot spaceman powers.
Grant Legate: Of course I’m okay.
I couldn’t call myself fixed, but the self-destructive impulses from years gone by were far less than they had been. Games skewed my behavior while playing. That was no new issue though or restricted to just the ARC.
Elizabeth Legate: Are you sure? I don’t know what you two were yelling about. Mom won’t explain it. She says it’s not something for me to worry about. I’m not ten anymore, Uncle Grant.
Grant Legate: I know you’re not, munchkin. It’s hard for us adults to see past the young girl who lost her baby teeth.
Typing out the message brought a smile to my face. Beth was always fun to tease. In my eyes, she would never stop being that little girl who rushed around the backyard, laughing. At least talking to her was a good distraction from cleaning up this messy hull. Splitting my focus made straying from the handholds a bit iffy though. I didn’t want a warning bar to flash up and leave me torn between typing to Beth and diving for a handhold.
Of course, floating off into space would give me tons of time to talk. I could type things out until the surrounding abyss provided me a “game over” message. Maybe I would find a secret area.
Hopefully I could keep surviving. I had grown used to dodging and avoiding objects, but this body had nowhere near the same stats as Hermes in Continue. It was similar to the beach cleaning exercise I’d given SweetPea as Carver.
An absurdly quick object beeped into my awareness. Along with it came a tiny message in red saying, “Dodge.”
“Ah!” My flat voice was swallowed up by the void of space. I managed to get around one rock as another blinked in.
Elizabeth Legate: Well. I… know it’s not something I should ask about. I-I don’t want to see you in danger over it. I read that letter, the one with Auntie Xin’s name on it. It doesn’t make any sense though. I’ve never heard of a quest that talks about dead people.
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