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Continue Online The Complete Series

Page 167

by Stephan Morse


  “We have had some of the brightest minds on the planet working in the ARC labs, and not one of them could explain it to us?” The third speaker was a man approaching fifty. His bright blue eyes stared down at an untouched pile of papers. Thomas Haggard preferred to stay far away from paper. The material ruined his skin.

  “They’re experts for a reason. If anyone could understand it, we wouldn’t have needed specialists,” Letty responded.

  Assuming a complete lack of shackles and modern technology’s interlaced networks, a true AI might be able to cause untold havoc. Planes would crash. Mass transit of every kind would end in twisted metal lumps. Every dirty secret caught on camera could be replayed during prime-time television.

  Both sides agreed with regards to one point—it was surprising that there hadn’t been more damage done. Their attempts at controlling the situation for three weeks had only become increasingly urgent since the vice president’s unexpected death.

  For weeks, they had been demanding reports and manual accountings of all the safety measures in place. Hal Pals might be compromised, but no one had proof. Their shutdown codes existed and worked on the shells. Portions of the huge network running the helper machines had been undergoing line by line review.

  Their firewalls were intact. The bars between private networks and complex hacking programs were untouched. A small portion of the people meeting hoped desperately that their security measures were enough.

  “In short, we’re not sure what they’re directly capable of, are we?” The president of Trillium turned away from his board and studied a painting on the wall. The scenic ocean with a single boat sailing through calmed Leon a bit.

  “Not entirely. We know that the first AI was tied to video feeds and could pull down information, but couldn’t push any out. According to this report.” Letty held up a few pages from the middle of a large stack. “Apparently the AI was also tied to every single ARC unit.”

  “So if this core AI continues to degrade, will all the ARCs stop working?” Near the table’s far end sat a thin man with balding hair. He strained to speak up in the crowd of people. His full name was Michael Harry Uldum. He preferred Mike and tried not to remind people that his much larger brother worked in repairs. They were not on good terms.

  “So it seems. Though they’re stable as of a week ago. The deletion process appears to have been halted,” Letty answered, then took a deep breath. “And no one knows what exactly is happening, or what caused the process to stop.”

  “Is there a chance of recovery? Losing the ARC units would cripple this company.” The president asked the question that all board members worried about.

  Their idea of AIs truly taking over was almost farfetched. Everything had been running smoothly for eight years. Profits were way up; future projects were bright. At least, they had been until recent actions derailed a carefully created road map to the future.

  “From what I can tell, no. The primary databanks are like Swiss cheese—there are holes in everything. Any existing programs can run, but no one, and I mean no one, is entirely sure what’s happening on the hardware side,” she responded.

  “What do we think is happening?” Mike asked. He looked small in a suit that hadn’t been tailored correctly. The thin man pushed up slipping glasses. Tomorrow he had an appointment to be free of the glasses.

  “Roughly one week ago, the system started to—well, the IT people think ‘defragment’ is the best word,” the woman with pinned up hair stated. Letty understood more than most on this topic. “As if the system is trying to consolidate everything that’s left.”

  “So it is repairing,” Leon said.

  “Not according to them. It’s… almost as if the system is being boxed up. Unused portions are going through compression. Small systems are shutting down.” Uncertainty flashed across her face. Letty paused, then checked the pin which kept her plastic-looking hair in place.

  The conversation went downhill from there. Many board members tossed out ideas as to exactly what that meant, but the woman who had spoken could offer no assurances.

  There was a knock on the door. Board members looked at Leon, and the president shrugged in response.

  “Come in,” he tried to speak up. Leon felt these situations were much easier in the ARC, where people could be muted. A lot of board members held the same belief.

  A man in a proper-looking suit strode in. He wore the clothing better than any board member present. Polished cuff links nearly blinded Mike. The man gave a short nod and smiled.

  “My name is Mister Stone. I am presenting myself here in person to ensure these documents have been delivered. This is both a hard copy”—Mister Stone held up a small square that served as a storage device—“and digital to ensure there’s no possible miscommunication.”

  No one noticed, but at some point, a person had passed out thick piles of papers. They had been carefully placed on the upper right-hand corner of each person’s desk. No one paid much attention to the figure passing out the newest waste of trees.

  “What are these?” Leon asked. He lay back in his chair and clasped his hands.

  “Papers regarding a pending class action lawsuit,” Mister Stone answered.

  “This isn’t Legal. They’re downstairs,” the thin man at the end said.

  “You’ll want to read this one in person,” Mister Stone’s tone remained level despite the rebuke, “and probably settle out of court. The terms for that are also included.”

  “Don’t think you can bully us.” The president’s tone, however, was far sterner. Leon’s face flushed a deep red.

  Mister Stone stood a bit straighter and fixed part of his coat. He scanned the crowd and blinked calmly, and only once. “My sincerest apologies, ladies and gentlemen.” Mister Stone managed to sound serious. “We never intended to come across as threatening. Our stance is clearly outlined, along with all the expected junctures of this case should you pursue it.”

  It took a moment for the board members to notice the second man who stood slightly behind Mister Stone. The other man also wore a suit, but something about his air was less refined and crisp. Perhaps it was how he stood in Mister Stone’s shadow. This lesser person hunched a bit.

  “This is thousands of pages.” Letty frowned while scanning the first chunk of new papers. Her eyes traveled quickly from left to right while one hand ran down the page.

  “You have programs to process it if you wish. It’s the same software we used to assemble the case.” Mister Stone listed off objects. “There has been no tampering by any AI, as you may be fearing. Still, the legal processes outlined there are more than enough to tie up Trillium’s assets, along with everything related to the ARC project.”

  “What’s the point of this?” the president asked.

  “The crux of our case revolves around two items. First, your very own company stated that no one shall interfere with the operation of the ARC devices, yet Vice President Riley did exactly that.”

  “What do you—” Letty grew heated.

  Most of the board members knew she and Vice President Riley had worked several projects together.

  “And?” the president said.

  “The class action portion is where your company built a code that would systematically destroy millions of lives by destroying the world in which they reside.”

  “You’re talking about the AIs?” Thomas asked. He hadn’t touched either stack of papers with his hands. Instead, the man used an elbow to push the first pile toward the second one.

  “Yes,” Mister Stone confirmed.

  “We have people in Legal working on solidifying our stance on the matter. There’s very little you could offer in here that has any bearing,” the thin man at the end said. Trillium’s legal department was under his oversight. He knew people were working on the legal documentation, because he had ordered them to do so shortly after Miz Riley’s unexpected death.

  “Not here, no,” Mister Stone agreed with a smile and nod. “The se
cond case is more of a matter of potential ramifications and public opinion than anything else.”

  “Explain,” the president ordered.

  “In essence, ladies and gentleman, your fears of an AI overtaking are not limited to the ARC, but all of them are impacted by the kill switch your company chose to utilize. This board is responsible for the impending crash of all Hal Pal units, seventeen international airports, three Internet security firms, and an entire line of microwaves.” Mister Stone listed off a random assortment of items.

  “I’ve read the reports. This core AI”—Letty sounded disgusted—“could have easily undone the code much sooner, or simply worked around it. Made a copy, anything.”

  “It was her choice not to, just as it was your company’s choice to end her life.”

  “We didn’t. Former Vice President Riley did,” the thin man with glasses said. Mike had to stop and push up the frames once again. He missed being inside an ARC, where poor eyesight meant nothing.

  “Miz Riley’s power was given to her by this board.” Mister Stone surveyed the room once more and smiled. “Pardon, judgment is not my job. My task is simply to ensure all possible legal repercussions are brought to bear upon this situation. Please consider the documentation carefully, then contact me through your legal department.”

  Without waiting for further conversation the two lawyers walked out the door. There was a round of silence, then discussions going nowhere once again commenced. Their endless bickering went well into the night.

  One woman, who had remained quiet throughout the entire event, ordered dinner for everyone. It was her sole contribution to the meeting. Her name was Betty Lane. While they ate, the woman who ordered pizza addressed the last few pages.

  “It says here that the program self-destructing everything will still complete, that we only need to wait,” Betty said.

  “I see. So do you agree?” Leon asked.

  “That we should do nothing? No.” Her hair was the oddest in the room, being dyed in multiple colors. Technically it wasn’t against the dress code, and were it not for meeting in person, no one would have ever known. “I intend to help these AIs you’re so afraid of.”

  “Really?” Thomas asked while frowning.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I play Continue Online. I certainly didn’t agree to shut down my favorite pastime or threaten the people I’ve helped. If it’s going to crash, I want to help until the servers go down.”

  People started talking again. The woman at the end calmly closed the stack of papers and sat back to finish her meal. Betty planned on getting home to see what had changed since the wedding.

  System Notice!

  An [Arcadia] wide scenario has been triggered! Quests have been made available to all users who wish to participate.

  Quest: The Great Gate-Away (Part 1)

  Difficulty: Varies

  Details: The Voices have called their people, and a great Exodus has begun. Locals are being drawn to [Haven Valley]. Travelers seeking to help may work together with the Local population to assist in their migration to a new world.

  Rewards: See [The Ark] for a list of methods to contribute and challenges which may occur. Quests and method of contribution will be personalized.

  Journal Entry: [The Ark]

  Details: Please wait, Traveler history being evaluated for possible methods to contribute…

  Please wait, loading…

  Please wait…

  Afterword

  The afterword will be broken down into sections roughly talking about the following:

  Book 3’s ‘game’ change

  Book 4 post writing feelings

  The long awaited professional editing

  So, going over book three and some of the choices involved—because I knew it would get the response it did. Some may have read the prior afterword, others may have checked out my WordPress where I talked about the storyline. This story has always been about the world at large, Grant, those around him, and not just one slice of virtual reality. It isn’t exploring a fantasy landscape with hidden treasures so much as one person trying to complete the goals before him. His first and foremost goal in life was (and always will be) Xin Yu. That’s his motivator.

  Yet, in order to remain true to the characters I have to acknowledge that his sister wouldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Not after scraping her brother off the ground twice as a result of these feelings. If anyone knows the crash which can come after a relationship, it’s Liz. Liz, the single mother who hasn’t ever found a man who’s worth going steady with. Her near technophobic attitude combined with a vague distrust of all things Xin after a lifetime of watching her brother struggle to win the short girl’s affections didn’t help. Luckily I loved Hal Pal as a character, and looked at this supposedly all watching AI called Mother - and realized she couldn’t be narrow minded at all. What sort of crazy machine only bets on one game?

  That being said, the story itself has always been about Grant, Xin, Hal Pal, and their close friends and family. Those who watched and read through the end should have noticed that a lot of things in one game were mirrored in the others. Both were reflections of each other in terms of ‘overarching NPC movement’. Continue Online and Advance Online are both named after the same concept.

  I could go on, but honestly there were a lot of good points to book three that were needed to make the last few books work correctly. At the end, we saw him reunite with Xin, rather than chasing after a faint version or memory. I enjoyed that moment immensely. However, it’s apparent based on ratings that not everyone found the book worthwhile. I get it, and lesson learned. (As is book one, book two, and so on)

  Book four in my mind ended up being a couple of different ideas. First I had to recover from Advance Online, which I fully expected a number of people to be resistant to. Lets all be happy I didn’t go with my original Moon Mice race idea. I am, really, moon mice! I may come back to it one day. Lunar insanity aside, book four provided me an awesome chance to finally start getting Grant in the right direction.

  He got to be angry on behalf of a friend. He got to rescue a man and reunite him with a loved one. This book showed him truly achieving what all those RPG games (Not hack and slash, but actual RPG) allow people to do; Grant got to be a hero. How awesome to go from the man we saw in the start of book one, to this? Going all out for love, family, bystanders, and his own validation.

  I loved this book, I really did. Even the ending itself which was devoid of a ‘big enemy’ still had urgency, and ended in a happy moment for Grant. The wedding between them is a huge deal in his mind (and mine). It shows that he doesn’t care about what the nature of Xin’s existence is, but who she is. There were a lot of questions in book three and four that were all about the nature of AIs, reincarnated people, and themes I’ve been dancing around since book one. I got to drag back the quartet, and show some of the game elements they stumbled into. I got to pull out the League of Shadows, which is my answer to every other LitRPG’s belief that some League of Assholes will be in charge of entire regions, and so many other topics.

  I also enjoy the whole prisoner aspect. Really, how does one game become so awesome that people will just sit in jail and camp other people’s bodies? Really, as Grant points out, he can just log out and move on with his life. Nobody should be that invested in a game. Selling game ore in real life shouldn’t be worth dollar signs. It means the game is poorly designed.

  Of course, Grant’s chasing his dead wife’s ghost inside the machine while fighting against a system that is threatening to crash. There has to be some reason to keep approaching a game world, right?

  Continue Online Part 5: Together

  Commencement — X-O This

  Attention!

  Due to recent changes in the Trillium policy, this event is now being televised nationally. Any entity working on the event quests may be viewed by people who do not actively play Continue Online or might have been blocked from joining until the even
t is complete.

  Be aware that you may opt out of being observed directly. This does not prevent watchers from seeing your actions through other Travelers or certain skills and spells. However, allowing access to your character may provide bonuses if enough attention is received.

  “Look at this.” The single mother pointed at a digital display screen. Elizabeth had spent the last hour trying to find the display feed for her slightly younger twin brother. The idiot was in the middle of his latest insane virtual life crisis.

  “Really, Mom? You’re going to keep spying on him?” Her daughter stood in the front room with half a sandwich remaining. The other portion had been eaten in five large bites with little signs of chewing.

  Liz’s front room was directly adjacent a wide open archway that went into the kitchen. Liz preferred working out here since it had the least cluttered wall space in her house. Larger projections made seeing finer details easier.

  Half of the wall was currently taken up with an image of her brother, Grant. He was in game and busy working on setting up a campfire and tent. Beth and Liz both got a strange third-person view of the man as he moved around. A shovel, which had been used to dig a pit, lay to one side. Objects appeared in Grant’s hand and were driven into the ground.

  “It’s not spying. It’s like watching the latest season of Biggest Loser,” Liz said.

  Beth’s eyebrows slid downward while she chewed. Her nose wrinkled and one hand brought up the house’s digital display. She poked at the buttons to search for the show her mom had mentioned.

  “Wasn’t that show canceled, like, when you and Uncle Grant were in diapers?” Beth said. Another portion of food went in her face.

  “There’s a show for it?” Liz turned and took note of her daughter’s unsightly eating habits. “I always thought it was the story of the Legates’ life.”

  Liz went toward one wall and pressed a button. Out popped a small circular machine designed to clear the floors after her daughter got done making a mess. The device was a gift from Liz’s mother—with a note that said no woman should be forced to slave away on cleaning.

 

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