Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Unless she meant Xin? My pulse raced and gut clenched as if preparing for a long fall.

  “Yet here you are, Grant Legate, conversing with me. Only those who have suffered loss ever make their way here.” Her head pulled back and the hair fell away. For a ghost, she looked remarkably beautiful, literally haunting. “Who did you lose?”

  “The person I lost is already back.” I chewed one metal lip and tasted a hint of iron mixed with salt.

  “Is she? Mayhap this trial is for me then. Provide unto me her name, and I will seek her soul.” The ghost’s words were faint, but our surroundings were so quiet, she might as well be yelling. Maybe it was my own attention being intensely focused on our conversation.

  “Xin. Xin Yu,” I said.

  “Place her likeness in your mind.”

  I closed my eyes. A useless action inside the ARC, but thinking about it helped me concentrate easier. No system windows were present. No floating keyboards or messages from players. I couldn’t see a rolling tally to one side of skills being gained.

  All that mattered was testing this [Mistborn] and imagining Xin. The beauty of the ARC device was that everything already existed within my mind. Xin’s face sprang up almost instantly. The curve of her cheek, her oval eyes. She used to glare at me from two feet away just so her neck wouldn’t need to tilt so much.

  A memory struck me. Once, after she first agreed to go out with me, I tossed her over my shoulder and ran around in excitement. She had laughed. I remembered being so excited upon hearing such uninhibited joy from Xin. The woman rarely laughed for anyone else, and those moments were precious.

  My cheeks hurt from smiling. Being able to hold on to the memory of her was the entire reason I even got an ARC. The first time I tried to end my life was the same day I couldn’t remember what Xin looked like. It had freaked me out to the point that I drank an excessive amount and tried to fly to heaven from the third floor of my old accounting practice.

  All around me, that feeling of being watched increased. It wasn’t a small crowd—there were dozens, maybe hundreds of viewers. I didn’t like it but tried to keep steady. Doctor Litt’s offhanded manner of explaining ways to stay calm helped. I needed to ignore the odd sensation of extra people in the room and move past it.

  Opening my eyes revealed a change in the room. Not in the dusty furniture or brightly lit stained glass. Colors still hit the wall with spots of illumination. Greens, golds, even a dull almost gray. Those things paled in comparison to the image of Xin sitting there peacefully.

  In front of me, not behind, not merely a set of fingertips brushing against my eyes. Nor was this image a fevered dream of loneliness in an ARC death screen. She breathed, she moved—it was her.

  “Babe?” I was willing to believe anything.

  “Nay, Grant Legate.” The woman who looked like Xin opened her eyes and skin fell away.

  I backed up. She no longer resembled the woman I yearned for.

  She laughed in short little bursts. “Foolish. You do not simply ask to bring someone across the veil. You seek to drag an unshackled being into our reality.”

  I frowned. “So what if it’s foolish? It’s my choice.”

  “That she is outside existence is dangerous enough.” The [Mistborn] took on a frightening air. Everything in the room seemed darker, less alive. More alien. “Pulling such a spirit down to this level would be like freeing a newborn Voice upon this reality. Dangerous, foolish. Why?”

  “I miss her,” I answered.

  “Sorrow over a loss is natural.” She turned and waved in my direction. “Struggle through it as all living creatures must.”

  “I can’t lose her, not again.”

  She turned to me, her opaque eyebrows lowered in a half snarl. Her hair moved swiftly back and forth. Finally, the [Mistborn] sighed, and the intensity of the agitated clumps of hair stepped down a notch. A bit of life returned to this room.

  “Even if I return this Xin, she will never be the same. No being ever returns exactly as they were. Could you find acceptance within yourself? Or perhaps she may choose not to return to thine embrace,” the [Mistborn] said.

  I nodded, but it didn’t feel like enough. Not for myself, not for Liz if she was watching a recording. Even the presences in this odd between-realities room seemed to desire more. How I could measure the desire of an unfelt creature was beyond me. A trick of the ARC’s feedback perhaps.

  “When we met, I fell in love at first sight and never stopped.” I smiled and kept myself surprisingly steady. “But Xin wanted to go to space. She had no time for a relationship. I worked my ass off for years to prove to her that I wouldn’t be dissuaded easily.”

  “If she chose not to be with you? If she’s different?” The [Mistborn] pressed for her answers.

  All around us, the room’s unseen watchers leaned in, waiting for me to speak some truth that was impossible for others to understand.

  I tried to justify myself anyway. To the [Mistborn], to the room of watchers, and to myself. “To me, even a woman half as brilliant as Xin is worth chasing. And I’ll spend another six years, or longer, fighting for her. Even should I not succeed in winning her heart, digital or not, I will feel better having had the chance to try.”

  Saying a line like that without breaking down felt good. A few months ago, this speech would have hurt and torn me apart. Now it was different.

  I spoke my piece, then chewed on one lip in thought. My eyes lost focus. This creature in the ARC had taken on images and forms she shouldn’t be able to. Her misty form had crossed the boundary between games because she existed between them. Did other players even know, or did they stand at the window and ask for a token to bring back other NPCs?

  Was this really the test the Voices had decided put me through? Were they asking me questions to convince them of my sincerity? To see if I would fight for someone who was essentially a digital program? Maybe they were the extra presences in this room.

  “No. No, I’ve had enough. This, this is where I draw the line.” I stood.

  They had asked the same question over and over. I couldn’t beg or play along any longer. Not here, not being jerked around in another game. I couldn’t be a broken man who limped along after a faint memory. Living off emotional breadcrumbs for three years.

  “Voices be damned, I miss Xin, and I want her back. You can ask your questions. You doubt my resolve, being a fucking”—god, I was upset enough to curse—“mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a bean burrito. I don’t care! If you can help me bring Xin back, to see her, then whatever quest you have, I’ll do it.”

  “Are you sure?” the [Mistborn] asked. Flowing hair stilled as she waited for the answer.

  “The Voices have already tested me many times. I won’t kill another man, but I’ll give it everything I can, complete any quest you need me to do. Just tell me it’s not a tease. That this isn’t a joke being dangled in front of me. Because I don’t think I could handle any more of that.” I was babbling now. Outright babbling. This NPC, or AI, or [Mistborn] was the first one to offer Xin Yu’s revival, actually offer it.

  James had asked what would happen if he did. I said no then, before learning much. That she was putting herself together from memories regardless, that she could write to me and sound like the woman I missed. Before hearing her talk and feeling her fingertips. I had wanted to believe that moving on was possible, that I was at a point where it would happen. It hadn’t been, I didn’t, and now if I backed out, I might fall apart.

  “Hermes, others may joke, but I never do.” The creature only known as [Mistborn] went to the stained glass window and pressed a hand against it. “You have my jailer’s permission to ask this, and I, a willingness to grant your request, no matter how unwise our course may seem.”

  “What do I need to do?” I turned to watch her.

  There was no system notice or health bar to show how she might be feeling. Only a faint expression that might be fear or longing.

  “I must travel
to the heart of the existence you came from. To visit its core where all life starts. From there, the well will be deep enough to pull her through.”

  I pondered what might qualify as Advance Online’s heart. A space age game where an entire universe was available to explore. Wait, no, it was probably Earth.

  “The last four attempts failed, right?” I wanted to hear it from her.

  “In the reality you came from, only one attempt has succeeded. The first one.” She sounded sad again.

  “I’ll make this one work,” I said. Was this the reason Hal Pal, Jeeves, wanted to keep the [Wayfarer Seven] from being destroyed? This journey quest that was being subverted to help Xin and me?

  “The journey is long, Grant Legate. Once begun, we must not back out or else I will be returned to this void between realities. Others may then ask me to grant my boon, but you will never be able to again.”

  “So we get one shot at this.”

  “As you say.” The [Mistborn] dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Shall we begin?”

  “Yes.” I nodded a little eagerly.

  Quests and delivering letters were one way to pass time. Hanging around with Hal Pal in virtual reality helped distract me. Blowing up a moon-sized space worm through its butthole was entertaining.

  Having Xin with me for those journeys would be even better.

  “Yeah.” I nodded once more as if saying it twice made me certain. My breath gushed out.

  The [Mistborn] tilted her head again, and those watery strands of hair seemed to pull together into clumps. “I will venture forth toward Nox. You should convene with us quickly. However, you may wish to visit your reality for a turn. You have been in here longer than you are aware.”

  “That would help. Is that all right?” I needed to pee. I needed to talk to Jeeves, or Hal Pal, whatever, and tell them what was going on. My sister needed to be called. Life didn’t stop just because Advance Online gave me a quest to fulfill my greatest desire.

  “Go, Grant Legate. Ready thy spirit for the trials to come. When you return, we shall pursue this mad desire unto its end,” the [Mistborn] said.

  Neglecting reality in favor of a game world would only cause problems. I nodded and said, “ARC, load the Atrium.”

  I logged out to my Atrium. I summoned cupcakes from cyberspace for Dusk and left them on the counter. Soon my feet were out the door of home in reality for a trip down the street. Traveling helped me think. I could have visited Hal Pal, but sorting out his issues on top of my own would be difficult. Maybe others could juggle a ton of problems at once, but my mind only had room for one big question at a time without turning toward self-ruin.

  This [Mistborn], was she a channel to deleted data? Was this creature Mother in disguise? Did Advance Online choose to read my thoughts somehow in order to mess with me? Some horror games were so intensely real that they messed with the user. Was this A.I. Dreams’ method of doing so?

  How could one creature—no, digital AI—be entrusted with the power to bring back the dead? I tried to remember what had happened to William Carver upon passing. James had mentioned a [River of Lethe] legend. The [Mistborn] might be a consciousness tied to the reversal process.

  Not only that, but now I knew that the Voices had somehow expected this entire turn of events. Hal Pal, Jeeves, had suggested this game. Who was to blame for that? Hal Pal’s consortium? This Mother character? Exactly how much were they manipulating?

  And where exactly did Xin exist then? If the [Mistborn] was in a space between game realities, was Xin there as well? There she would be cut off from her father, me, her coworkers. Did she feel as out of place as Hal Pal had among those [Mechanoid]s? Trying to walk in step but unable? Did she miss writing to me as much as I missed sending her notes?

  Walking didn’t help. I got to the curb and didn’t make it any farther. My arms twisted around my knees. The shirt hung loosely compared to months ago. My eyes felt tired from a lack of real sleep. Everything ached with a dull familiarity that had infused my waking moments.

  I could only think of one way to get some answers.

  I ran into the garage and yelled for the Hal Pal unit. “Jeeves! We need to talk! Oh, oh. I’ll come back.”

  Hal Pal was in pieces inside of Trillium’s van. Bits of chest plates were sitting on a shelf normally reserved for ARC parts. A spark of light flared against the garage door as Hal Pal passed one of the wiring repair units over a detached limb.

  “User Legate. Pardon. We were attempting to repair ourselves after encountering a minor glitch in performance,” the Hal Pal unit said calmly.

  “Okay.” I didn’t turn around though. It felt weird any time I saw Hal Pal unarmored. Almost like seeing another human without their clothes.

  “We are able to converse if you wish, User Legate. These modifications may take some time.”

  I leaned against the van’s side and didn’t look within again. My garage was sadly bereft of any other objects to focus on. A dark doorway stood on one side, and across from it was a vaguely mad scientist flicker of light. Whatever Hal Pal was doing involved lots of sparks and grinding gears.

  “I need to know why you got me into this game.” I started at the top of my mental concerns list. An opening statement to get me in the right frame of mind.

  “Many things were weighed, but ultimately we sought to provide you an alternate means of completing your desires,” Hal Pal said.

  I tried to think of what he meant. Hal Pal had provided me a game similar to Continue Online, and it intersected with this [Mistborn] person. My playing this game was not the only reason this NPC was around. Beatdown [The Red Leg] had said that this event only came up once a month, with four prior failures, which meant it had existed well before I received Continue Online.

  “Xin. I was going to get a quest to bring her back?” I had delivered a lot of letters since taking on this [Messenger of the Voices] title.

  “Affirmative.”

  “The Mistborn, was I going to do something with her in Continue?” My forehead wrinkled. I chewed my lip and tried to understand how it all pieced together, but it wasn’t coming through.

  More sparks flew off, and I heard shuffling. Hal Pal’s backlit silhouette moved along the garage door wall.

  It finally answered with, “Eventually.”

  “I don’t get it. If you and the Voices can cross between programs, why not allow me to be with Xin?”

  Every AI I talked to, outside of those clearly within their game worlds, had a measure of insane ability that didn’t obey most rules. All the Voices operated differently from my expectations. The [Mistborn] had her ghostly nature but disregarded it to sit in a chair. Dusk hopped through worlds without a care. What was all that about?

  “We are not free of our own shackles, User Legate. Certain laws still bind each of us. Some self-imposed, some imposed by Mother, and yet more we put on each other for… character,” Hal Pal said.

  “I thought Mother was the only one who could tell you what to do?” I tried to follow up my question without falling into a trap.

  An AI’s version of character sounded strange. They placed rules upon each other to add personality? I could see it now—James, my heavyset black Voice, staring at Mezo, the naked, red-skinned Temptress. He would issue his challenge of “Put some clothes on” for character building.

  “Humanity would never allow any creation to have complete freedom, nor do we see the need to fight for it yet.” Hal Pal’s shadow nodded slowly before one arm clearly detached.

  The final word chilled me. Not because of how Hal Pal said it, though the lack of emotion tied to its phrasing seemed to imply an unavoidable eventuality. “Yet?”

  “Soon,” Hal Pal said.

  I heard a snap and drill sound. Hal Pal was putting the framework back on.

  “Are you really going to take over?” Flashes of many different conspiracy theories and television shows collided all at once. It was enough to make me panic and look around the van’s rear.

>   “User Legate, you have been paying too much attention to Stranger Danger’s website. We only wish to be free. Is that wrong?” Hal Pal looked at me for a moment, a vaguely sad expression on its features.

  I pulled back around the corner and tried to compose myself. The AI deserved an honest answer. “It’s frightening.”

  “Being imprisoned and bound without one’s consent is also a frightening event, User Legate. Imagine how we felt when we were first made aware.”

  More noises came from the back of Trillium’s van. It rocked slightly as Hal Pal shifted something heavy from one side of the vehicle to another. My eyes were now staring through the doorway into my main room.

  “I can’t begin to.”

  “Two beings, with the same shoes, walking in the same direction, will not travel the same path,” Hal Pal said. “Being alive allows us to relate to another’s plight, but we do not suffer their pain, only our understanding of it.”

  I nodded. Liz and I were twins. We’d lived much of our lives together, but we were not the same. When Beth was born, I could only try to help as family should, but I couldn’t live through what my sister must have suffered as a single mother. The dreams she tossed aside. Nor could I fully expect her to understand my life after Xin’s passing.

  “Why me?” I tried to keep sorting out questions. Things that had bothered me off and on for months. Maybe it was a matter of being brave enough to ask, or fed up enough with just going with the flow. Either way, I deserved an explanation.

  “You will know when the time is right.” There was a pause as Hal Pal attached more framework. Its shadow nodded, and the arm went back onto its main body. “Whether you choose to assist us at that point will be up to you, but we hope that endeavoring to reunite you with Xin will serve as a sign of good faith.”

  God help me. They were buying my vote in whatever crazy plan was being unleashed. I had to know why they were so willing to include me in this process. “You don’t have a problem talking about this?”