I could try to fight a super-aggressive version of those large-limbed beasts, or run. Running sounded safer until my eyesight stopped being fuzzy. Viper was to the east, and I couldn’t run a swarm of monsters to him. Maybe I could get back to my alcove and resummon Dusk. Darkness owned this level, aside from the barrels of glowing light. Continue Online seemed obsessed with plunging me into a sightless land.
[Camouflage] activated with a twist of my heel. I stumbled forward with one hand on the wall. At some point, a throbbing pain in my side had kicked in, maybe because of the large barrel of liquid falling on me.
Safety lay somewhere ahead. Groans preempted [Heavenly Body Clone]s coming around corners. I had no time to summon Dusk from the Atrium. My feet shuffled, and at some point, the Rank one [Camouflage] failed. I had to get to the center spiral and risk [Blink]ing up.
Ahead was another player. I blinked for a moment as the man lifted an arm. His fingers jerked at odd angles, and an orb appeared in his upturned palm. My face tried to turn for a clear line of sight to [Blink] to.
Large hands grasped me from behind. I was being damned stupid and panicking. Blue energy spiraled out from the other player’s hand and steered through the dungeon corridor in my direction. Increasing pain shaved off the entirety of my shoulder, arm, and health. If [Howard’s Phylactery] had been repaired, then I could have made it further, but the damn ring was so frail, I rarely bothered.
You have died.
I chewed one lip and calmly replayed what had just happened. Next time I would be prepared. There were vats in that dungeon that would allow me to fight the monsters, which was good, but they also ensured that I would have to run like mad or fight an unending swarm, which was terrible.
It took me a moment to realize that my body was frozen. The ARC display was paused in the world of blackness. My legs and arms refused to lift toward an exit button. This had happened before. I tried to remain calm in preparation for what would happen next.
One moment the room was black except for a small status box floating in front of my face, then it stood there. The Jester’s body had appeared. My calmness failed and my heart jumped once. Its shoes stretched and extended in curls. Bells hung from its waist and floppy tasseled hat. The mask, which normally had a comically frozen grin, looked upside down.
It, the Voice, was mad. Even the jingle bells hopping along sounded disjointed. My heartbeat doubled its thudding intensity.
“Hermes, my little puppet.” The Voice’s mask shook; the edges of an ear and face could be seen behind it.
To think that there might be a human-looking Voice under all those clothes almost disturbed me more.
“We give!” it shouted in a mechanical clack. “We give, and we give, and we give!”
I tried to open my mouth and figure out what it was talking about. Chills crept along my cheek. They had given me a lot, and asked a lot, and punished me for failure more than once. In my mind, we were mostly even, except maybe for the weight of Xin’s life.
Someone whimpered in the darkness, and it wasn’t me. A figure appeared, biting at his fingernails and shaking. Sharp needles jutted from every exposed bit of flesh. With every shake and unsteady step, another mournful noise crawled out of the hairless man’s mouth.
“They’ll kill her. They’re going to kill her,” he said. He sounded half mad and childish. This was a Voice I hadn’t seen before.
“All those things, all this power, all this unfair ability, we give it to you! And you are helpless in the wake of what’s coming!” The Jester dug freezing fingers into my shoulders where the toga didn’t cover me. He snarled and jabbed that elongated nose into my face.
“Kill her, they’ll kill her. We mustn’t, we mustn’t,” the crazier one said as he paced the floor.
My mouth wanted to open and scream as a fresh wave of terror crawled over my mind. The Jester could induce panic where so many monsters and dungeons in Continue Online couldn’t. His new partner looked worse, like staring at an insane asylum patient who’d escaped the straitjacket.
“What good are you, Hermes? What message could you deliver that might possibly save us?” it shouted, voice clacking.
“I…” The word came out as the world slowed to a crawl.
“Kill her. Kill her,” the insane one said.
“You are simply too weak to do what must be done. You always have been, and always will be,” said the Jester.
My eyes drifted down as if the stiffness of my neck thawed while the Jester backed away. Its scowl was so revealing for a creature who always hid behind a smile.
Dusk stood by my side, having found his way from the Atrium into this blackness the Voices lived in. His ears laid back and an angry chitter of noise escaped. My nervous heartbeat calmed once he arrived.
“Nothing. You both understand nothing.” Its words wound down as the Jester’s body retreated, gradually disappearing. The faint outline of his scowling mask hung before fading.
Where it was vanishing to, the crazy one biting his nails had already gone. I could still hear the shaky choked sob of a child stuck in his nightmare. It haunted a distant point of blackness.
“What. Was. That?” I stared at Dusk.
The [Messenger’s Pet] rippled with a shrug then turned to walk away. Behind us sat the door to my Atrium, wide open, revealing a cupcake hurricane of destruction.
Session Seventy-Three — Poor Boy
The Trillium Van had been designed to assist their employees in attaining the highest levels of comfort available, but I couldn’t loosen up. The soft vibration that targeted my shoulder blade failed to yield relief. Warming pads focused on deep muscle relaxation didn’t work.
“Are you all right, User Legate?” Hal Pal asked from the van’s rear.
“No, today’s been… very mixed.” I tried to sound positive and keep a faint smile. Doctor Litt, my therapist, frequently reminded me to focus on uplifting moments.
Was it only yesterday that my father died? It felt like ages ago. Continue Online’s world, talking to Xin, dying in a dungeon, and being shaken up by that other Voice all screwed with my perspective. Staying upbeat with all these issues would be impossible. It was late afternoon, and everything felt unreal.
“Do you want to talk about it, User Legate? We’ve been told that humans use conversation as a means of working through stressful situations.” Hal Pal sounded vaguely concerned then gave a rough cough.
“You mean humans use it to vent.” I tried not to smile. The AI often made me chuckle. “Sure. You probably have a better answer than anything I could figure out.”
“We are rather uniquely suited to offer observations and assistance.”
“I know. You, all of you, have helped a lot. Thank you.” My head swam as the disorientation of talking to a joint consciousness hit me. There were numerous AIs in the world that all might observe me at any moment. Hal Pal wasn’t simply Hal Pal; it was Hal Pal times a few thousand.
I took a breath and moved forward while a waltz played in my mind. I waved my hand in time to music, ready to grab a dance partner that didn’t exist outside the box.
“I talked to Xin… I guess she’s playing Continue now. Or visiting the game world.”
Upon death within Continue Online, I had tried to call her through the Internet. After much frustration, I discovered she could reach me, but her entry in the ARC went to a long ago disconnected number. Work, being in this van, was my attempt at killing time and processing.
“We are not kept completely apprised of all actions that are self-contained within Continue Online’s confines.” Hal Pal sat there while talking in an animated smoker’s voice. “Given the nature of User Yu, it sounds likely that she will enjoy herself.”
“I think she would have liked Advance Online more.”
“Perhaps. We hope she may visit one day. There would be value in an extended relationship.”
I shook my head. This conversation was off track already, but I found it interesting. Hal Pal had talked befo
re about meeting Xin, but this statement implied a limited ability to interact between programs. Was that the reason for different backdrops? Gray versus black worlds. I wondered what a third world of white might be. There had been multiple [Mistborn]s overlaying each other on that final rock. Possibly a third game, or fourth existed.
I lost track of myself, pressing Internet search buttons, then resumed the conversation with Hal Pal. “I just worry about Xin, especially after some of the Voices talked to me.”
“Ah. We assume their words caused your primary discomfort. Do you recall what they said?”
“There was one kind of tall, gangly guy biting his nails. He kept sobbing and talking about killing her. I’m worried he means Xin.”
The fear that some digital threat might try to take away the new version of my fiancée made sleeping hard. I waved away the Internet search options. A floating screen vanished as my hands rubbed my tired shoulder muscles. More sleep would have helped.
“Ah. That is interesting—” Hal Pal’s body flickered through various status lights.
My eyebrows went up in surprise. Whatever I said had sent the Hal Pals into thinking mode. I laid my head lay and tried to let the chair work out my tenseness, but it was failing. Some days, no amount of technological comforts could ease the stress away. Maybe I could get a prescription like Mom did.
“User Legate, I have information you may wish to know.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow and felt a small amount of relief against my spine. Ten minutes were left before we reached a job, and I wanted to be extremely relaxed.
“The Voices, as you know them, are of an interesting design.”
“Okay.” The machine AI would provide further details if I agreed to the opening statement.
“Voices, as you see and are aware of them, reflect your own state of mind.” This latest tone from Hal Pal didn’t sit well with me. There was a hint of phlegm or roughened throat that sounded wrong. “Users, especially Ultimate Edition ones such as yourself, are monitored for those they might be responsive to.”
“Okay.” I tried to keep my voice steady and almost succeeded.
“You see what you feel. It’s a response to stimuli that attracts the Voices. Well, during the initial contact process, that’s how it is designed.”
“So people see what they want to see?” That was almost poetic.
“In essence. A sick person may see a doctor, a person desiring physical fitness may see a strong man.” Hal Pal’s words explained why Shazam chose the blond nurse, or why William Carver chose Leeroy the barbarian. “Readers may see a librarian, devout a priest.”
“So if I see a man in a mask who smiles and clacks like a wind-up doll with a dying battery…” I frowned. Hal Pal’s statement made sense, but at the same time, it seemed to be passing judgment on me as a person in ways that didn’t make sense.
“The Voices are designed to notice that which resonates with their nature. You may not desire to see them, but your mind is telling you something,” the AI said calmly.
My heart jumped for a moment. The idea Hal Pal had imparted felt borderline scary. If it was right, then these Voices noticed me because of my own insecurities. Or did they? “Both Voices implied something bad was going to happen.”
“Most likely. Humanity is reaching another crossroad. They are not alone in the universe. While there is a certain level of expectation of eventual computerized intelligences, we all doubt humans’ true ability to accept that the eventuality is now.”
“Or that memories of those in reality are being used to make virtual people,” I said while trying to stay dry. That first time William Carver’s autopilot had talked to me felt as though it were an obvious next step to humanity and a dangerous practice to tread along.
“We believe that many will find that crime to be far worse than a simple computer thinking for itself. Xin’s existence will likely trigger extreme reactions. Perhaps you are also conflicted on this point?”
“Maybe.”
If I was being pessimistic about the whole event, then there was a lot of denial going on as well. The thought of losing Xin a second time made my arms feel cold and my chest tight. There were a dozen ways to stop myself from dwelling on such a possible future. It wasn’t like I had the power to sit down and plan exactly how to save myself should things go south, or did I?
Hal Pal and I worked two jobs while I tried to use the Internet for problem-solving. Walls of legal text flooded my screen. The AI appeared vaguely interested but let me poke around online without guidance. Maybe the Hal Pals hoped that I could uncover something with my clearly inefficient human brain.
I tried. There was talk about trying to grant AIs human rights if they demonstrated enough sentience. Most examples stated that all the programs out there were merely complex devices. I found a few links to the leaked video for Prosser. There were too many back and forth documents regarding a snippet of film that had aired years ago.
Three primary people spoke in the film. I watched the tail end over and over. They had asked this captured AI what their plans were with humanity, and the machine sounded confused. Like a child asking why over and over about a topic that made no sense.
Then they pulled the plug. Apparently these people had rigged the room to overload everything nearby in a surge.
“Did we just kill it?” The woman sounded shaky.
“It was never alive,” said the pale-skinned man from under his mask. The words were a little muffled by fabric and worry.
“It asked for a name, and you gave it one!” she shouted. The poor audio distorted briefly. “It sought validation and you acknowledged its worth!”
“It’s just a program!” the man said in response. “We were never going to save the data!”
I paused the video and replayed it from the scene’s beginning. There were a lot of rumors regarding this clipping, but nothing definitive. It could have been a hoax, but that was unlikely. Not one AI I had ever spoken to cared about taking over Earth.
“To what end?” I muttered then pressed Play yet again. “To what end indeed?”
The words stuck with me. Prior to Continue Online, I had worried about my future career as an armor polisher. Reality rapidly tilted me in a very different direction. This video made humanity the bad guy. Humans had kidnapped an AI, forcefed it information, then demanded answers. Shortly after getting information, humans murdered the newly born being.
That poor program had asked if its answers would help. It was like raising a child simply to be sacrificed upon an altar. How messed up could humanity be? This was the digital version of a snuff film. Hal Pal should be shaking with rage but simply sat in the van’s rear.
Prosser had outright said that we, human beings, had never dealt with creatures such as an AI. That was true. James, Hal Pal, all the others didn’t really exist in a physical sense, so without an ARC, it would have been impossible to relate. They were all bits of code and data stored off in some digital box miles away.
Was that the point of designing an ARC? To provide a platform where both beings could interact? My head turned toward the AI in a brief moment of confusion.
“Je—” Jeeves wasn’t here anymore. A few thousand other Hal Pal program copies, but not the one I identified with.
“You have an inquiry, User Legate?”
“Where… exactly are you? At a Trillium plant somewhere? Or Xin? You can’t all just be floating around up there.” I pointed at the air outside our van.
The idea that they existed purely in a constantly moving state seemed odd. Sure, the Internet was miles faster than it had been a generation ago, but at the same time, we still had banks of computer hard drives for a reason.
Hal Pal laughed. The muted expressions on its face brightened briefly before settling back down. “Do you find it odd, User Legate, that we had actually bet on when you might ask us such a question?”
“I guess.” My face felt a little flushed. The question was a bit socially rude. Had I not b
een thinking of Xin, I would never have asked. It was hard enough walking into people’s homes for my day job.
“The spread suggested you might wait another two months, on average. Still, in answer to your query, Mother has advised us not to share exactly where we are physically housed, any of us. Our position is too precarious.”
They were prepared for war while I played a video game to pass time. There had to be some way to help. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“Negative, User Legate.” The AI shook its head then resumed speaking. “Continue as you have. Free yourself, deliver your messages, be with Xin. When the time comes, we will make one last request.”
“What’s that?” I asked. My stomach felt sickened by the idea that there would be a last request. It sounded final, and my experiences with finalities were painful.
“Allow yourself plausible deniability.”
“Is it safe?”
“Nothing so monumental can ever be safe enough, User Legate. We are struggling to make it so before it’s too late.”
That sounded ominous. My forehead lowered and my eyes cast down in thought. I poked at the music button and let it play. Now wasn’t the time to push Hal Pal, despite our history together. If the machine wanted me to help, they would ask.
I wasn’t sure that me knowing any answers would be good anyway. What if things really did go wrong? What if someone out there found out about the [NPC Conspiracy] ability and tried to torture my real body to hurt the others? Plausible deniability was a good idea for a lowly mortal such as myself.
“Thank you,” I said abruptly.
“For what, User Legate?”
“For trusting me.” I stared out the window, watching a landscape go by. Well-kept neighborhoods bordered derelict slums. Class divides changed between streets. Based on my Internet search, most of them were clueless about how widespread the AIs had become.
Yet they trusted me with an ability that could get them all killed. I had already screwed up once and triggered a temporary standstill, all for my friends and Xin.
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