“Is my admin access active?”
“Affirmative. Admin rights have been rerouted to User Legate’s ARC device due to collapse of informational structures.”
That was it then. That was the key to getting all these people out. They didn’t need to suffer ARC feedback or risk their lives. The Carver quartet, down to two that were nearby, didn’t need to stay logged in for this.
“ARC,” I shouted.
“Awaiting input,” the machine said in a shaky voice.
Before my eyes closed, I saw people looking at me funny. We were down to maybe a hundred users still online. Everyone else had died or escaped with [Save Yourself]. These last people needed to go.
“Set their autopilots to escape, and log everyone else out. I repeat, log everyone out.” My words triggered a ding.
People looked around at unseen boxes.
“What?” a male hero asked. “He can’t do that, can he?”
“What’s going on?” another person asked.
“Hermes!” SweetPea shouted while yanking off her ragged knitted cap and stomping a foot at me.
Awesome Jr.’s lips quivered into a frown.
“Uncle Grant?” Beth’s confused expression vanished in a blur of light. I hadn’t even noticed her standing nearby until now.
They all turned into pastel autopilots that marched resolutely toward the beam of light. Not one of them looked back as the line formed. Once at the beam, their autopilots collapsed into a swirl of lights that flew straight upward. The once full bodies of so many players now existed only as bits of data going to destinations unknown.
I took stock of the few who remained. They, Xin, and I were all that existed in this digital arena. I had no idea where the others had gone or if they were safe. The waves of force grew in strength and each round brought more pressure.
Xin had been quiet. She knew as well as I did that we approached an ending. Maybe she hoped I would let her stay with me if we didn’t talk. There’d be no chance of that.
“You need to go.” My voice sounded amazingly calm compared to the emotional roller coaster going on internally.
I almost felt as though this was happening to someone else. Part of me rode above the warring internal monologue to focus upon final goals. Get Xin to safety, stand my ground until the end, and hope that it was enough.
“No.” My wife lifted her staff and tried to summon additional skeletons. The lights on her robe blazed with white, then those turned red. Whatever she’d attempted had clearly failed.
“You need to go now,” I said again.
“And I need to make sure you log out safely.”
“You won’t be logging out, will you, Hermes?” James asked.
Xin and I turned and spotted him near the pillar of light. When he had appeared wasn’t clear, but he was just another person who hadn’t transferred yet. He too needed to get going toward safer harbors.
My head shook in response to his question.
“No, no. You have to log out. You’ve done enough,” Xin said, her voice high-pitched and her accent coming out in force.
“Hermes has decided upon his purpose,” the black Voice said.
“I will guard this spot,” I said.
My wife’s face ran with tears.
The calmness which had allowed me to speak started to crack. “Now, go. Go. Please just go and live this time.”
She protested, but hearing her became harder. The ARC system kept cutting out. Logging out all of those players must have done something to the process. In the distance, only a slight chunk of moon endured. The rest had swirled into a black hole. It coincided with the fact that we only had a few square miles of ground left to stand on.
Two other figures appeared. They moved in between short bursts of ARC static. Their forms were metallic creatures that reminded me of Hal Pal’s body months ago, the one they’d showed to me during the second invoking of [NPC Conspiracy].
“You can’t do this!” she shouted. My strong wife, a woman who could make tough calls and wasn’t afraid to risk it all, was breaking down.
“I can. I asked them to do their best to protect everyone else impacted by this. Everyone but me.”
Two people dragged her back. The growing force made it hard for Xin to fight back. Plus, without the extra abilities granted in Continue Online’s world, she was just another person.
“No! Dammit, Grant! We can save you too!”
On the other side of that beam lay safety. By God, or the Voices, or Mother, she would be safe this time. I couldn’t lie and say she might find her way back.
“I don’t need to be saved anymore, babe.” My voice broke slightly before my exercises kicked in.
The memory of our last dance on the tower top came to mind. Feeling her hands in mine, our bodies moving in unison, holding on to those final happy times would be for the best. I didn’t want to think of Xin in the future and remember hurting her like this.
Focusing on the positive side hurt but felt easier. Even here, at the last moment, I felt far more alive than a year ago. I was better, dammit.
“Take her, please,” I said to the two pulling Xin back. Her form was being pulled toward the beam of light. It dawned on me that there were still words to say. “I love you, babe!”
“Gee,” Xin screamed with one hand out, then her body evaporated into the light.
“It will hurt,” James said. “The program will attempt to delete the portions of your mind attached to the ARC. Are you prepared for that?”
“You should go too, James.” Without Xin, my body felt numb. Only one task on this wild ride remained.
“That is not an answer, Hermes.”
“You already know the answer, don’t you?”
James smiled, then nodded. His head tilted for a moment, then he spoke again. “I am sorry, Grant, that you choose to experience pain on our behalf. You will need to hold the line for four minutes, and we will have enough time to seal our side against intruders.”
My nod felt weak and hesitant. Four minutes or eternity, in the end, they felt almost the same.
“Go, James. I don’t think the others would know what to do if you weren’t there pestering them with questions.”
A squirm at my chest reminded me of a passenger. I pulled out the [Messenger’s Pet]. Dusk lifted his head weakly, then chirped. Our normal speech bubbles for communication were gone.
“Get going, you little troublemaker,” I whispered. “Quickly, while you still can.”
Dusk flew unevenly toward the beam, just behind James. They vanished, and the shaking started. One hand went to [Morrigu’s Gift], and my dry throat managed a swallow. It was real now.
Behind me, the ground could be heard crumbling. Xin’s final cry echoed in my mind. I felt as if my wife had broken down in tears only a slice of digital data sideways from where I stood.
It didn’t matter. The deletion program, or [World Eater]s, whatever it was, couldn’t be let through. The science behind it made no sense, but I needed to stand here and stay inside my ARC without letting anything past. That was simple enough even for an accountant to understand.
There were no players left. They had all heeded the system message warning of instability or been forcefully logged out. No one else would suffer the consequences of what I’d set into motion. People might still be watching remotely, but the interface option for a viewer count had gone.
All that remained was what I could feel. [Morrigu’s Gift] and [Morrigu’s Echo] still shifted. [Power Armor] still flickered on. Using what remained, I would stand tall against the looming system deletion. I would bear my weapons in defiance.
I turned to survey the landscape. Flat land stretched on, and at the furthest edge of sight, the land fell away into nothing. There were no [World Eater]s remaining to fight, just pressure and nothingness.
A pounding thud hit my chest as the remaining ground rolled. Miles away, a wall of visibly distorted air charged toward me. Inside that oncoming wave was debris from acr
oss the virtual worlds.
“I’m sorry, babe, but I can’t follow you anymore,” I whispered. My head tilted down, and I bit my lip hard. A small amount of pain jolted through. “Here’s where our paths diverge.”
Behind me sat the doorway into Xin’s new world, one where she and all the Voices would be safe. I only needed to hold this point until they’d completed their transfer. Part of me felt like it should be quick, but there were no guarantees. The first wave hit me, and where I stood, it broke like a beam of light being parted. My body shook, and teeth vibrated from the force.
“I’m sorry, Beth, Liz, Mom,” I said. “I’m sorry that you had to take care of me for these last few years.”
I reached out one hand to try to set a timer, but I noticed both reality and Continue Online were moving at the same speed. Time dilation had failed due to the erosion of all that was left. It made sense. The space around me no longer existed inside the rules of any game.
“Come on then. Try to pass me.”
I stood there with William Carver’s weapon and faced off against a looming span of nothing. Fighting monsters would have been easier, but none remained. Their personification by the Continue Online world had ceased once we stopped being in the game itself. Only a leading edge of crumbling earth, plus powerful waves of force, still remained. And me.
“I can take it!” I yelled at the nothingness with false bravado.
More waves came. My weapon crossed in front of me to barricade against the game. [Immovable Object] didn’t exist anymore, and [Barricade] as a skill was gone. Each wave that came slammed into [Morrigu’s Gift] and vibrated through me. My knuckles burned from holding the hilt’s edge. It felt like the [NPC Conspiracy] bonuses to defense did nothing.
My mouth opened to suck in air, and another surge hit. Vibrations rattled my teeth. They clenched together to prevent detaching my tongue. Before the next wave hit, I tried to count the seconds.
“I’m doing fine.” I coughed and ignored the liquid that came out. A hole had formed in [Morrigu’s Gift].
The next wave crashed in, then tore open the wound on my knuckles even wider. Behind me, the light flickered. Fingers burned from a heat well beyond video game lava. The blade started to crack. Two dozen orbs of light spiraled in a circle past my head into the blade, and it swelled in mass.
I looked back to confirm that my presence was making the waves split around me. The beam of light remained pure, though its size had shrunk considerably since I’d last turned around. The next wave tore additional cracks into [Morrigu’s Gift], and the one after that shattered my weapon down the middle.
I looked forward. Hanging in the air was a keyhole. Realization hit me, and I fumbled for the [Altered Matrix] key with one hand while the other went for [Morrigu’s Echo] to get a new defensive weapon. I had no menus to access. Both items sat tucked into the folds of my toga.
[Morrigu’s Echo] transformed and took on the same shape as my giant two-handed blade from William Carver’s era. The comfortable grain in my hands made me wonder briefly of Spite, and Wraith, then another wave hit and drove out those thoughts. [Power Armor] tried to protect me against the blast but fell away.
I grasped the key and inched forward slowly toward the hole. [Power Armor] flickered on. Bobs of gray light fluttered around and went into the boots upon my feet. No conscious thought was put into my abilities; they triggered on their own. Everything happened hurriedly as the waves came quicker.
The ground under me crumbled. I stepped past a forming crack while trying to keep the beam of light behind me. I had only seconds between each wave. Each time I attempted to lift the key, a wave pushed me backward.
[Morrigu’s Echo] started to form holes. [Power Armor] quit working. My body screamed from an impossible pressure that felt as if my legs, arms, and chest were being put in separate vises.
A yell erupted as [Morrigu’s Echo] shattered. A wave broke around me and left my face blistering in heat. Both burned legs struggled to leap toward the keyhole. The [Altered Matrix] key missed, and down I fell into a hole. My arms waved and struggled to reach for anything solid, but there was nothing.
Above me, the beam of light withdrew. It looked untouched by corrosion. My arms stopped waving, and a smile slowly spread across my face. Water pooled in my eyes. My heart’s panicked thudding slowed as a sense of peace washed over me.
That was success. Xin and the others would be safe. My stand against the darkness set upon destroying the AIs’ new home had been worthwhile.
Down my body went past untold miles while seizures rippled through me. The layer of interference between my digital body and reality had worn down to nothing. Something heavy was in my lungs. Uncontrollable coughs clenched my stomach muscles, and wetness bubbled upon my cheeks. A jackhammer pounded behind my eyeballs with untold amounts of pressure.
My fingers poked at the air, and a few weakly flickering windows came up. They vanished almost instantly with a fragment of light. Those few seconds confirmed what I already suspected. I couldn’t log out because my vitals showed a flat line. The price was a small one.
A series of final thoughts passed through with a passive tone. I regretted not getting the key in that hole. Maybe now wasn’t the time for it. Maybe someone else would find the pieces and put them together. As for dying itself, once the pain transformed to numbness, it was a lot like falling asleep. I tried to hum and remember the feeling of my wife’s hands in mine.
Good-bye, Mister Legate.
The message flickered, then faded. My eyes closed while the sensation of falling vanished. One coherent thought remained in the darkness. Living without love had been much harder than dying for it.
Interlude — Original Configurations
User ID: Elizabeth Legate
Location: In Transit to User ID Grant Legate’s home
She grabbed keys and mismatched shoes the moment Grant started apologizing. Seconds later she reached the car, then slammed her head upon the doorframe. It didn’t slow her down.
“Take me to Grant’s house!” Liz yelled at her car’s Auto-NAV system.
“Please wait, the navigation process is currently undergoing maintenance. Optimal routing cannot be verified.”
Liz, mother to Beth and sister to one humongous idiot named Grant, knew something terribly wrong had been brewing. She had known for days, weeks, maybe months. Grant had changed in the last few months, plus Xin had returned from the dead. Sort of.
“Ah ha! Stupid machine! I have my license this time,” Liz shouted at her car dashboard.
“Enabled manual steering. Please be advised that all high-speed transit systems are still restricted.”
“Of course they are,” she muttered. The machine had cut off any quick methods of getting to Grant’s house, but there were back roads. “Come on.”
She forgot to signal frequently. More than one warning light flashed on her car’s dashboard. It applied brakes when she didn’t want them, slowed down without warning, and in general managed to solidify her dislike for machines.
Digital resurrection had been the most difficult part of these last few months to swallow. Her brother’s instability felt eerily normal once the larger picture became obvious. Machines becoming sentient managed to take a backseat to the idea of a woman coming back from death. Yet, it had to be Xin, because there were things she’d said that no one else knew.
One specific incident came to mind, from when Grant and Xin had first started officially dating. Liz had issued a series of calmly spoken threats to the shorter Asian woman, all born from a decade of watching her brother fall helplessly in one-sided love.
Xin, the computer version, had repeated those threats line for line a few months ago. That moment, and so many others since then, was absolutely jaw-dropping with implications. It was like that movie where all the robots rose up and took over, only they did it while wearing the faces of family members.
“Just go!” Liz yelled at the traffic.
Other people were stal
led. Horns honked while vehicles moved forward in jerky procession.
The trip took two hours. The entire time, she played Grant’s video stream while growing increasingly worried. Liz chewed her lip, wrinkled her forehead, and longed for coffee that wouldn’t turn her nervousness into full-blown jitters. By the time she got to his suburbs, Grant was standing alone against nothing.
The entire scene didn’t make any sense to her. Liz couldn’t watch the screen completely or else she might have crashed. She’d had plenty of near collisions only prevented by legacy safety features on the car.
“I’m sorry, Beth, Liz, Mom,” Grant said.
“No, no, no!” Liz shouted at a car that ground to a halt near some fast food stops. The vehicle she had been driving manually automatically hit the brakes as whichever idiot ahead of her turned.
“I can take it!” her brother shouted.
Liz could not. She shook for nearly the entire remaining drive. Grant’s house was too far away because he hadn’t wanted to live in his old neighborhood.
When she got there, medical personnel were already at the house. Lights flashed from a lone ambulance. Grant’s splintered front door sat knocked to one side. A large, slowly moving machine carried her brother out on a stretcher. Its wheels carefully moved him toward the looming emergency vehicle. The device applied steady surges of electricity to the man’s body, which made his legs and arms jerk uncontrollably. Liz had seen this before. They were trying to resuscitate him.
She charged out of the car while yelling.
“Goddammit, Grant!” Liz felt her face lose color, but she couldn’t cry. Those tears had long ago been shed. “Goddammit!”
A paramedic was shouting and trying to push her back, but Liz could only see the broken form of her twin. One of his eyes had been dyed red, and neither one focused. Her brother was alive for only seconds at a time. The machine showed a steady line only broken up with each jolt. He responded in mumbles as the beeping noise flat-lined repeatedly.
Liz imagined him babbling, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it this time.”
“I need you to step back,” the man said.
His words were repeated twice more by the machine, but Liz couldn’t hear it. Grant’s skin looked charred. The smell of burnt flesh wafted out of the front room. His hand was locked into a claw. This certainly was not dehydration like last time.
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 198
