Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  There was no simpler way to say it. “Control of my life back.”

  Liz, by kicking me out of Continue Online, had driven home the situation. I made decisions, but ultimately I didn’t call the shots.

  Continue Online had felt like that at moments. It was James who pointed out the key difference. He hammered home the idea that everything was my choice. At any point, I could walk away. I chose to take on the quests as William Carver and the [Red Imp], Spite. I chose to deal with other players, to go to Shazam for training, and fight Requiem.

  Someone else chose to block me from Continue Online.

  “That’s commendable.” His face shivered a little as he talked. The bald spot on his head was obvious as light from above bounced off it. “Do you think you’re ready?”

  I closed both eyes and tried to remember my calming techniques. The question, however simple in theory, was not one to be answered right away. Anyone who could instantly leap to an answer had no right being in control of anything.

  “I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress.” I started at the top of my list.

  “So tell me about it.” Doctor Litt adjusted his nameplate and picture frame. He kept doing this as we spoke. Another therapist might say Doctor Litt was a control freak with borderline obsessive compulsive issues.

  I ignored it. Everyone had an issue of some sort, and he didn’t do this at every meeting. Maybe he performed these little actions as a test of my attention. As if acting disturbed would make me reveal a deep dark secret.

  Like the AIs in Continue Online, or maybe everywhere inside the ARC, were plotting to take over the world. They were smart, had access to millions of people’s innermost thoughts. Clearly Dusk didn’t care one whit about the boundary between software programs.

  “A few months ago, I won an award from work. For working hard at my job. Harder than anyone else in my area.”

  “Go on.” Doctor Litt waved one hand then refolded them on the table. It kept him from fidgeting as much.

  “So this game, Continue Online, we talked about it before…” I paused to ensure Doctor Litt nodded. He wasn’t watching my face, so it took him a moment. “Well, I’ve become invested in playing. I enjoy going around their world, seeing the sights, taking on new challenges. Learning.”

  “That’s good, that’s very good,” Doctor Litt said. “Those are all positive actions. Learning something new, eating better, exercising, each one is a step in the right direction.”

  “I’ve been playing since”—I thought back to the beginning of my adventure—“mid-July.”

  The problem with having an accounting degree was my mind kept trying to establish a formula or ratio between the two perceptions. Silly ways to balance it out, such as ten minutes in reality working and sleeping equated to twenty-five in the game.

  “So just shy of three months. Real-time,” Doctor Litt said, nodding.

  “Yep. It feels a lot longer. Do you know about the time dilation?”

  “Of course. I’ve talked to a few people about addiction problems. Continue, among others”—his head bounced with the concession—“comes up often.”

  I tried not to cringe. This whole idea of using my positive actions since receiving the game felt like switching one therapy problem for another. Soon it wouldn’t be me sitting down to prove my self-preservation was intact. I would quietly switch over to talking about being in a back alley restroom giving truckers hand jobs for internet time.

  Not that people did that anymore. An ARC was cheaper and far less risky. Or maybe people did. I didn’t know. Truckers weren’t even a thing anymore, since large vehicles drove themselves like my van did. A long chain of cargo vehicles would often be unpiloted and calmly roll along the highway.

  “Anyway. I’ve been learning a lot of new things. Meeting people, making friends, more than just work acquaintances. Actual people,” I said while thinking of Shazam and the quartet from my Carver era and that princess fiasco. They were still mostly children. HotPants was slightly older but had her own issues.

  “That’s also good. I’m very happy for you, Grant,” Doctor Litt said while his head bobbed. “These are huge steps. Great steps toward taking control back.” There was a look in his face that screamed “other shoe.”

  “But…”

  “Go on.” Doctor Litt probably knew all my sister’s concerns. That I was killing myself in a game, repeating suicide virtually in preparation for a real, final go at things. Or maybe Liz just worried that my mind had finally snapped.

  I worried as well. In between beating up monsters, doing jobs at work, and generally milling about, I worried far too much. No amount of mental conditioning could ever remove that nagging voice in the back of my head. The one that worried if my world would fall apart again with an abrupt phone call telling me about a train crash.

  What would get Xin this time? A giant magnet over someone’s hard drive? A virus scanner? Some stupid quest by digital overlords beyond my reach? I couldn’t roll into Trillium’s building and hold the very people who had given me the [NPC Conspiracy] ability hostage, could I?

  “Ummm… I don’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy.”

  “Okay, tell me something small. The big picture often looks fine at first. It’s the details that cause problems.” Dr. Litt’s head carried the fluttering motion his clasped hands couldn’t.

  “There’s this woman that I’m trying to get back to. But I only know her in the game.” I looked down while speaking. This was a very faint lie.

  Admitting her existence to another human being felt like a great deal of pressure. Even Miz Riley, Trillium’s Vice President, didn’t know about her. My sister had found out. Beth had mentioned it but hadn’t asked for details. I was skirting around the problem with vague phrasing. If I had used Xin’s name, that would basically be saying that I believed in digital ghosts.

  These chairs felt uncomfortable. The room looked less homey. My mind went off track and wondered if these illusionary walls covered one-way mirrors with scientists nodding and laughing behind them. I tried to shrink down.

  The chair felt huge for my lighter body. I wanted to curl up but managed to squirm instead. My eyes closed, and I counted. I could face a digital monster, but potential ridicule for my mental instabilities brought me to a near panic attack.

  “Are you serious?” Doctor Litt stared at me. His body looked to be on full alert. I knew telling another human being about this was a terrible idea. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  A waltz. A salsa. Both had patterns. Dancing was just math, counting and moving in time. One second, two, simple math. I could equate the arm positions to columns. Everything was a balance, one action to the next. One movement into another. Everything would blend together in a flow.

  “So has this caused any relapses to destructive thoughts?” Doctor Litt took on that James tone again.

  I shook my head quickly. Killing myself because Xin was in the machine had never crossed my mind. I saw what had happened to William Carver—he wasn’t himself. There were pieces missing that should have been central. I couldn’t play a game like him and somehow be one with Xin.

  My only real hope was to maintain life both here and there. Once the Voices allowed it, then we would be together. With the time compression, it might be better than our original future had looked. Her plans to go to Mars, the training made months go by while we barely got to talk.

  I smiled at the idea of adventuring with Xin in either game world. That would be amazing. Voices above, I wanted that. I wanted it so badly that even mild hope felt as though it was too much to handle after the panic of admitting her existence out loud.

  “Grant, that’s amazing,” Doctor Litt said while shaking his head. There was a long pause while music swelled in the back of my mind. “That’s, oh my god. That’s amazing.”

  “What?”

  “First, you’ve listed a ton of steps to improve yourself. Each one of them shows an investment in living. I’m proud of you.”<
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  “Thanks.” I still felt shaky. My heart thudded loudly. Monsters couldn’t scare me, so dammit, why did real life? Why did this feel so much worse?

  “Second, you’ve got a goal.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah.” His head shook as though I had missed the obvious. “In this game, she’s your princess. Your damsel in distress.”

  “She’s not really the damsel sort.” She went ahead and charged into things. Didn’t expect a rescue or anyone to save her.

  “Look, you clearly want to spend time with her, right?” Doctor Litt looked a bit confused. “Did I or did I not follow your expressions right?”

  I felt worried that he read me so easily. Maybe everyone did. My next words were an attempt at sounding sane, “But she’s…”

  “A player? A nonplayer character? So?”

  He offered me the opening, so I took it. “She’s not a player.”

  “Okay, so an AI in the game world. Is she someone you want to spend time with?”

  “I do.” Desperately.

  “So?” Doctor Litt’s eyebrows were up and both eyes wide. “Do you think she’s real?”

  Part of me felt extremely confused that Doctor Litt even weighed in on this subject the way he did. His face had always been terrible at containing lies. He often became worked up when talking about ways to improve myself.

  “I think so.” I remembered her warm hands. The tiny scar. A weight of her body behind me that felt perfect.

  “Then that’s wonderful. Believe me, of all the problems to have, being attracted to a digital construct is downright peaceful. Who am I, who are any of us to judge?”

  “But she’s not real.”

  “Not necessarily. What matters is your investment in her existence.” Doctor Litt nodded as though he knew the secrets of the world and was dying to share them.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been in there. Everything inside the ARC feels like reality. The danger isn’t losing touch with one or the other, but letting it change who you are.”

  “I don’t think it has.”

  “Based on the steps you’ve taken, the investment in self-improvement clearly shows.” His hands gestured up and down my lighter body. “You’re displaying positive progress. Much better than the stalling before you picked up this game.”

  “I know.” I did feel better, much better about who I was now. Maybe conflicted on some issues, but alive, moving forward. Facing the struggles head on had to be good, even if my first instinct was to flinch.

  “Look. This, this is just my day job. When I’m not here trying to help people find ways through their problems, I help research for the Lindburg-Rosen group on their intelligence bridge theories.”

  “What?” I felt a little less panicked. The room’s lack of realism took a back burner to mounting confusion.

  “Well I don’t actually get to help, but I know all their works.” Doctor Litt’s hands came apart and waved behind him. The man’s eyelids fluttered rapidly as his cat frame picture was moved once more. “They were the leading field in transferring human consciousness into a machine, at least until Trillium bought them out and buried the research.”

  “Wait.” I didn’t care about the Trillium buyout part. That was useless fluff in the face of a much bigger issue. “You’re saying this woman in the game is good?”

  “I believe anything that helps you progress can’t be all bad. Don’t tell anyone this, but what you’re talking about? Totally possible. Ever since the first round of truly independent AIs came online, this was the next step.”

  “The next step in what?”

  “Human relations with AIs, talking to them with a level playing field,” he said.

  I flashed back to seeing Hal Pal on the [Wayfarer Seven]. We were literally on the same level now.

  “So does that mean I’m better?” My heart thumped again for a much different reason. This wasn’t panic. It was a demented sort of amazement at being validated. The belief that Xin might be alive inside the machine had been signed off on by someone else in reality. Doctor Litt of all people, even if he kind of sounded crazy.

  An alarm beeped. Across his desk, a message popped up. I couldn’t read it from this angle, but it seemed to be a notice that someone else wanted a meeting. He stared at it, then pressed a button. The message folded away.

  “Sorry. I can get really distracted by this stuff, so it’s best to have reminders set up.” He waved off the message and pressed both lips together in annoyance.

  “I understand. That’s why I missed our last meeting.” I wanted to apologize for skipping out. Wandering the mountains or whatever seemed very low in importance compared to making my meetings. Especially if Doctor Litt might believe me.

  A box popped up again, and I watched Doctor Litt scowl and press the button to put it off.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m more concerned with knowing you’re on the right track. Your LSM didn’t go off.” He was talking about my state-mandated life support monitor. One they put in after the second attempt. Another message popped up and interrupted us briefly. “So we can take steps to certifying your readiness on a probationary basis.”

  This was different from the certification I had saying I was better. This would mean that legally, no one else had to be responsible for me. With it, I could revoke Liz’s court-issued control.

  I nodded and bit at my lip. “I’ll do whatever’s needed.”

  A fourth box disrupted our conversation, then a fifth. This time Doctor Litt jammed his thumb down so hard he grumbled from pain.

  I liked Doctor Litt, though not because he was exceptionally good. He was abrasive, fluttery, and over the top. Sometimes his professionalism could be questionable. But his antics were amusing enough that my guard lowered a little. That, and talking to him was easier than it might be with other people. Plus, he was quick to be positive about things. It was almost comical.

  Finally, he gave up trying to dismiss the ever-increasing messages and pressed another button. “Hi, Linda, this is Doctor Litt.”

  “Doctor, thank goodness you answered. I need to talk to you,” a woman answered the phone. She sounded shaken up about something. I tried to tune her out before any intrusive topics came up.

  “I’m always willing to talk, but I’m wrapping up with another client and need a few minutes.”

  “But this will only take a moment, Doctor Litt.”

  “Linda, I promise to call you back in five minutes. I promise. If this is about our prior topic, then it’s best if no one else overhears.” He kept reassuring her and talking over the words coming out of Linda’s mouth. Then he clicked off the call.

  We both waited for a good ten seconds before doing anything else. No more messages displayed on the desk.

  “Well, that puts a time limit on things. So here’s what I can do right now. I’ll talk to your sister and let her know you are making honest-to-god progress.” He smiled. “And you are, Grant, you truly are.”

  I gave a half smile while slowly nodding. This meeting wouldn’t end the way I hoped.

  “Unfortunately”—I flinched at Litt’s word—“I have to meet certain obligations before I can sign off on revoking guardianship. It will take time to finalize the paperwork, get your sister to sign off, then file it with the county.”

  “How long?”

  “It should be around three weeks. I’ll be required to do at least one more evaluation when we have”—a call popped up again, which made Doctor Litt scowl—“more time.”

  He closed his eyes for a long time, then took a huge breath. Part of me worried that Doctor Litt made those same faces before dialing into our meetings within the ARC.

  Part of me found it funny. Maybe I needed to get out more. At least the walls no longer felt so fake or the chair so large. My clothes were a bit loose though, which meant I needed to purchase new ones. That could be a good distraction on the way home.

  “Hi, Linda.” He clicked something in his ear and the convers
ation stopped spilling about the room. “Yes, go ahead.” Doctor Litt looked at me and shrugged. Another button was pressed on his desk.

  “I want to hear more about this game. Plus, keep up whatever exercise you’re doing, you’re looking great,” he said with a thumbs-up that reminded me of Shazam. “Yes, Linda. I’ve got a transcript of our last meeting in front of me.”

  I felt exhausted. My one hope of getting life back on track had been dashed by paperwork and another client with a pushy speed dial button. I thought about yanking out the earpiece and screaming into it. This was my hour, my meeting that I’d waited for, my life that she was butting in on. But I said none of those things and prepared to leave.

  At least, until Doctor Litt interrupted my attempt to make it out the door. “Grant, do you have a bad guy yet?”

  “What?” I wrinkled my forehead and tried to understand how that question fit into everything else.

  “A bad guy. You’ve got a damsel in digital distress. Do you have a bad guy? Bowser to your Princess Mulan?” Doctor Litt stared at me from the side of his eyes, his hand cupped over an ear.

  I thought about those who had crossed paths with me since this game had started. The Jester disturbed me but didn’t seem like an evil villain. It was a disquieting figure with cold hands and a constant grin, but it let me feel Xin’s hands and talk to her.

  “No. Not really. Just me.” I got in my own way more often than anything else.

  “Good. That’s great.” Doctor Litt might be talking to me or might be talking to Linda. “Grant, don’t stress if there’s no bad guy in your game.”

  I had never thought about having an actual bad guy. The closest thing to that had been Requiem Mass, and he was more of an abused kid taking his angst out on the world. No one else even seemed remotely confrontational. James might be some Machiavellian overseer dragging me around like a puppet, but that wasn’t the mark of a villain, was it?

  Maybe Dusk could be my bad guy.

  “No, really, Grant. Dressing someone up as a bad guy shifts responsibility to another figure. Not having a-a villain, to me that means you’re taking responsibility.” Doctor Litt paused to acknowledge Linda again before looking at me. “That’s huge. You’re working on improving yourself. Don’t stop. Keep moving forward.”