Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Ruby nodded.

  “Then Jeeves can bring back Treasure.” I nodded as well. That sounded quite doable. The core portion of our crew was still recoverable. Having all five of these stronger NPCs would help the [Wayfarer Eight] with whatever happened next. Though jumping through to where the [Wayfarer Seven] had ended would be a poor idea.

  “Yes. We feel the need to warn you, it is a process which hurts a great deal,” Aqua said. The [Mechanoid]’s expression lost its faint, ever-present smile.

  I shrugged. “A little pain won’t deter me.”

  Session Fifty-Eight — Stilled Hearts

  Jeeves flew the [Wayfarer’s Hope] straight in. I ran over to help lift out the two [Mechanoid]s it had saved. After hours with the puzzle piece pile of [Mechanoid]s, I was relieved to see Treasure and Emerald were whole. Their only issue was zero health and a ton of scorch marks.

  “Let’s get them over to Aqua,” I told Jeeves.

  The AI didn’t nod or respond at all.

  “This one finds it interesting, how those with a past life core are contrary in nature,” Aqua said as we set the bodies next to Iron.

  The three of them formed an odd rainbow. I looked around for Ruby, but the deep red [Mechanoid] had vanished.

  “What do you mean?” I asked while looking at Jeeves.

  My friendly AI was on the verge of another breakdown, so I rested one hand on the smaller [Mechanoid]’s shoulder. It barely blinked, but the gloom retreated a touch.

  “We—those such as Iron, Ruby, or this one—design ourselves with specific goals in mind. Yet old world core units disregard their very nature. You chose to be a creature of battle and chose a biological companion.” Aqua gestured one long arm toward Dusk.

  The small [Messenger’s Pet] was nosing around objects from the pile. The pieces he put together had absolutely nothing in common. A lot of leftovers remained; we hadn’t been able to sort them into bodies.

  “Yet you find value in fighting and repairing,” Aqua said.

  “I know what it’s like to be broken. Why wouldn’t I try to help them?” I tried to stay calm, but Aqua needed to hurry up. At least the [Mechanoid] talked and worked at the same time. That helped restrain me from shaking and rattling its metal body to get things moving along.

  “Yet you are not a pacifist. You chose to fight the other ship, and indeed performed your role exceptionally well. You crippled its crew and sent those remaining into retreat.” Aqua nodded slightly. Its fingers ran over the lines of green and gold energy on their bodies. It appeared to be inspecting for possible problems.

  “I needed to—or they would have killed us,” I said.

  Jeeves hadn’t moved. A few helpers were unloading additional broken bodies.

  “You were not bothered by the action during it, but you are bothered by the aftermath—of needing to hurt others to do what is right. Perhaps you are more of a healer than you know,” the sky-blue-lined [Mechanoid] said.

  “No. I’m just…” I couldn’t say a bewildered human while pretending to be a robot. That felt weird. “I did what I thought was right, but I’m learning. Maybe there are better ways through.”

  I would discuss our options with Jeeves once Treasure, Emerald, and Iron were fixed. Part of me wanted to avoid a large-scale battle against other people. Not out of fear—I was thankfully past that—but because these types of events left a sour taste in my mouth. The aftermath of war was the worst part.

  “Can we fix them now?” I said.

  “In a moment, but please be aware, Unit Hermes, even if you sacrifice a core, they may not wish to accept it. You will have gone through all that pain for nothing,” Aqua responded.

  I shrugged and tried to catch my friend up to speed. “Jeeves, we can bring them back—Treasure, Iron, and Emerald. We have to pull out our own matching core.”

  “But, User Legate”—the AI had promptly done the math—“why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s my fault they’re dead.” I felt guilty about starting this whole [Mistborn] chain quest. Saying no would have been simple enough. I could have stayed online and protected the ghostly woman. Any number of things.

  “Then I will offer mine to Treasure,” Jeeves said. His butler tone overwhelmed the maid one.

  I smiled a little. Only a few weeks in-game, and the AI had a bond with our short silver-and-gold [Mechanoid].

  Jeeves didn’t waste any time. With furrowed brows, it sat down next to Treasure’s unmoving body. [Core]s, when they went in, pressed through the chest and spread warmth. They were probably a video game representation of hearts. No wonder it would hurt.

  The ARC’s feedback was sometimes cruel. Part of the reason I could stand a lot of pain was simply the awareness that my body was okay and sitting in a bed somewhere. Feedback mostly stayed in my mind and didn’t reach far beyond that.

  For Jeeves, the agony hit harder than I expected. I ran over to help my friend. Its body thrashed on the floor, fingers stuck partway in its chest. Sunken, melded together, curling at wrong angles. I tried to pull its hand out and let Jeeves recover, but the [Mechanoid] glared at me.

  “No.” He gasped. “I must do this.”

  I stared at it. “You don’t have to.”

  “If you will, I will,” Jeeves said. The mouth we [Mechanoid]s used to talk with didn’t have much in the way of individual teeth. Even so, the AI ground them together while digging its fingers in farther.

  My brain struggled to understand this kind of suffering. Hal Pal units were all pieces of code, items put together to run complex processes. Somewhere in there must be a line that explained how badly it hurt and why he should stop.

  Humans were hardwired the same way. Self-preservation made us flinch away from being hurt. I had to do it twice. It would hurt, but I had made these choices before. My hand reached up to my neck and rubbed at a wound the digital world didn’t show.

  “Ahhh!” It gasped.

  I tried again to help Jeeves, but the AI slammed its free hand onto the floor. Aqua stood watching with a flat mouth. Even Dusk paused to watch the self-inflicted trauma unfold.

  I had a different take on these things. It would hurt, but if I moved fast enough, it wouldn’t hurt for long. That had been my approach for the prior incidents, and those had needed weeks of premeditation to build up to.

  Jeeves yelled, gasped, and heaved. The lights on its body tied to the golden core flickered and dimmed. Soon they were gone, leaving a dull rust color. Its other [Core] belonged to Iron, but I intended to take the second attempt. I wouldn’t let the AI do this twice.

  Finally, amidst the panting, Jeeves’s hand pulled free of its chest with a small round object that pulsed gold. Aqua knelt and reached out for the [Core]. My friend nodded.

  I helped Jeeves go from its awkward kneeling position to standing upright. [Mechanoid]s didn’t need to breathe, but the AI did it anyway. Beads of metal were pooling and pouring down its face—our equivalent of sweat.

  “That hurt an exceptionally large amount,” the AI understated. “I had not realized what pain felt like.”

  “Pain reminds us we’re alive.” I quoted one of my therapists. Not Doctor Litt, the one before him. My head shook and my hands felt clammy.

  “I am alive,” Jeeves said with a mix of calmness and wonder.

  I nodded and waited until the AI could stand alone. We both watched the blue [Mechanoid settle the [Core] in Treasure, then take a deep breath. Light flashed through her once again. Gold crawled along her body deep within, like a serpent underground. In a rush, it surfaced along all limbs.

  Treasure gasped and her back arched. I chewed one lip and nodded happily. Jeeves stared with a muted smile. I patted the AI on its back and gave a push.

  “Are you okay?” Jeeves’s voice stuttered in an irregular pattern between the male and female voices. It bent over to help the female [Mechanoid] up.

  Treasure had a calm look on her face that matched Jeeves’s.

  I left the two of them alone.
They may just be good friends, they may be flirting, but I only cared that Jeeves had someone. The AI needed to have someone it could relate to. This issue with its original Hal Pal consortium had left Jeeves floating in a world that was difficult to find a home in. Treasure might help.

  Part of me ached for Xin right then. I closed my eyes and imagined holding her once more. As always, there was a slight brush of familiar sensation against my hands. I lost myself in the memory for a moment. Her warm hands, the small scar near the pad between thumb and pointer finger. I always reached for it. Xin had never commented on the little things I did to make sure it was her.

  I muttered, “My turn.”

  Jeeves stepped back and looked at me. The beads of metallic sweat on it had almost faded. A few minutes of greeting a revived Treasure must have done wonders.

  “Will you require assistance, Unit Hermes?” the AI asked.

  “To hurt myself? Hardly.” I laughed bitterly, then sat down.

  A lot of [Mechanoid]s were gaping at me. It felt weird to have people bear witness to my self-harm. Disturbing. I ignored them and inhaled deeply.

  “Just… pull it out, right?” I asked with my head tilted back.

  Those two were pretty physical. [Mechanoid]s holding hands were too cute.

  “Yes. Intent and action,” Jeeves said. Both voices were evenly matched with worry.

  I nodded and bit one lip, then I tried not to think about it anymore. That was the secret—stop letting myself tense up about what was going to happen. One swift action, followed by a jerk to the side. Enough to end a life. Dozens of pills and a glass of water. Enough to end a life.

  Ripping out my own metal heart twice hurt no less and no more than what life had already done to me.

  My hand went in and grabbed quickly. It felt like swallowing a missed fishbone, breaking a rib, trying to breathe with a collapsed lung. It felt like all those things together, and I still managed to exist beyond the pain. Aware despite my desire not to be.

  I yanked, and my body arched with the motion. Gasps came from me and sweat pooled. Shaking covered my body from tip to toe. Aqua said something, but I couldn’t hear the words. Jeeves and Treasure spoke, but their cries went unnoticed.

  Warning!

  ARC stability rapidly deteriorating. Please consider ceasing your current actions until a normal connection is resumed.

  My eyes widened. Everything around me seemed to be in supersaturated color. My hearing dimmed. I had no idea which of the two [Core]s had come out. In the end, it didn’t matter—there was one more to go.

  A shaky hand deposited the [Core] into Aqua’s possession. I breathed and blinked quickly, hating Iron and Emerald for dying, hating Jeeves for making me play this game, hating myself for my failure to protect those who mattered even a little to me.

  I saw Xin’s face. Imaginary or not, in a sense, she was there with me. She had to be. Whatever fancy version of an autopilot existence she had been given was there if I could only reach her.

  It felt like the first time all over again. Dying not because I didn’t want to live, but because I needed to be with a woman who had passed on. A desperate hope that heaven awaited us both with all that our life would have had.

  I reached in again. People shouted. The floor came up as my body no longer retained the ability to sit correctly.

  The ARC punished me. I tried to use what flicker of awareness I had to remember that this was all in my head. That the pain racking my body wouldn’t exist as soon as I woke up. This land was only a dream inside my head and a memory of the past.

  I shivered and shook. My hand came out far slower the second time. Jeeves was saying something. Treasure ran a hand across my forehead. Xin’s imaginary face didn’t smile; she only watched with a concerned lift of her cheek.

  My return smile felt weak. The side of my face lost feeling. My arm jolted with pain. I gasped continuously, clutching at my chest as everything faded to black.

  I came to in an ambulance. Not a video game version or digital landscape creation. A robotic arm was measuring out items into pouches above me. A woman with a cross on her shoulder sat across from me, taking my pulse the old-fashioned way.

  “Mister Legate, can you hear me?” she said.

  My hand came up to try to reach for her, but the movement made me wince. Breathing was worse. There was a mask over my face. That was familiar to me. I had been in this kind of vehicle twice before.

  “You passed out. An emergency call was made. We’re bringing you to the hospital to make sure everything is okay,” the paramedic said.

  After that much pain, it was a blessing to have my mind shut down. I rolled my eyes and let the ride continue.

  Hours later, I was trapped in a bed. My clothes had been switched out to the classic white gown. Everything on me had either been torn up by the paramedics or carefully bagged. I was listening to a doctor tell me what happened. It turned out I had passed out after simulated pain, and the life monitoring system attached to me triggered. Legally it was embedded right under an armpit, next to the veins. They used it to make sure I wouldn’t end myself again. In a sense, it did its job.

  “Mister Legate, everything is looking better.” The doctor standing near me was looking over the notes. “Are you breathing okay?

  We had discussed what had triggered the event. Passing out from insufficient hydration and being carted off to the hospital was bad enough. But she agreed that it was game related, and not that I’d deliberately tried to harm myself. I felt thankful for that small concession.

  I shrugged and sighed. Sharp pain reminded me that wasn’t a good idea right now. The doctor, a young black woman in a lab coat, nodded. Her fingers tapped at a screen to make notes.

  “We’ll need to keep you here for a few hours to monitor you. Afterward, if you’re stable, you can go home,” the woman said.

  I nodded. “What else can I do to not have this happen again?”

  “Keep your diet and water intake on track and turn off the EXR-Sevens occasionally. Then the chances of passing out again should be minimal.” The doctor nodded happily while speaking.

  My spirits lifted a little hearing the prognosis. Simply by playing a game and eating out less, I was making progress with my health. I wasn’t perfect—my belly still had fat and loose skin—but maybe in another three or four months, everything would even out.

  “Those EXR-Sevens are not a substitute for real exercise though. Getting out more can help,” she said.

  I hadn’t heard her name yet. My last two hospital visits blended together. “I travel for work a lot.”

  “As a repairman? I assume you have a Hal Pal unit that does the heavy lifting?” she said.

  The thought of Jeeves and its consortium passed through my head. “Yes.”

  “That’s good. Every little bit helps. You’re fairly young. Keep investing in your body,” she said.

  I smiled. Our conversation went on for a few minutes before the doctor left. She had numerous patients to see. Her job was a lot like mine, relaying information spouted by machines to other humans.

  Pretty much everything the doctor implied said I was on the right track. Eating healthy and being active helped. The old me had passed out many nights in the ARC. In this case, it was a matter of stress on my heart just prior. It sounded as though this was a once-off sort of thing.

  My sister swept into the room twenty minutes later. She looked harried, her disheveled hair barely reined in. Once again, I wondered how Beth had gotten such a different coloring than her mother’s.

  “I’m glad you came by. I’m okay. Apparently I passed out.” I tried to get the initiative.

  Liz hesitated a few seconds then nodded. “I know. I just… I’m sorry. I panicked.”

  “It’s okay. Rather be safe than sorry,” I told her. My smile felt a bit wounded at the lack of faith she’d displayed, but if the situation were reversed, I might feel the same way. “You were watching, I assume?”

  “Yeah. I saw the thing
with all the robot men. Then your character stopped moving and the alert monitors went off. I panicked,” Liz said the words again as if they were a nonsense defense. She stood on the far side of the room, close enough to see how I was doing without crossing an invisible line of awkwardness.

  We were only vaguely on speaking terms due to our last conversation. I understood.

  “It did hurt, but the ARC can’t overload a human in that way. It’s based on memory triggers,” I said.

  My words sounded silly. The ARC itself didn’t simulate situations—nothing could be that simple. It had to get a point of reference for every single item in our lives. No two people thought of purple in exactly the same manner. I only knew this much because of my time replacing parts. Being around them, listening to people talk and ask me questions, had provided me a desire to learn a little. Mostly to answer a customer’s questions without sounding confused.

  “I don’t understand, little brother,” she said. “Why would you hurt yourself like this? In a game? Even Beth isn’t this bad.”

  “I wanted to help a friend,” I said. Plenty of things seemed great in action but worrisome in hindsight. Had I known, yanking out the second [Core] could have waited. I could have logged out and had a glass of water while winding down.

  “Yeah. I saw the character; I’ve been watching everything. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t understand,” Liz babbled.

  We were probably no longer talking about the recent event with Jeeves.

  “I didn’t think this would happen. Believe me, I wasn’t trying to kill myself again. Not after…” I had several ways to end the sentence. Not after the first two times and the heartache those caused. Not after the work I’ve done to get to a functioning place. Not after being given the hope Xin still existed in some form.

  “I know you weren’t. I just… I saw the message come up, then rewound what you were doing in-game. I thought you had tried again! Or had a heart attack!” Liz faced away from me and flung up her hands before pacing toward the window in my room. She faced me, then chewed the corner of her lip. “I added reminders to the EXR-Seven program to ensure you get out and eat more. And drink.”