Continue Online (Part 2, Made)

by Stephan Morse

  “However, you are new to our world, so all gifts will be balanced accordingly. We are not in the business of promoting any one person over another, without cause, despite the grumblings of other Travelers. Those who achieve do so by earning their gifts.” The black Voice offered.

  I gave a single dry chuckle and kept staring at the cane. There were no inspection details available at this moment. Fingers trailed over the form. The cane was strangely polished. That hadn’t been obvious to William Carver’s gnarled hands. It felt more like a rod of metal with a grain of wood.

  “Okay. Yeah.” I felt a bit excited. The old man had given me a gift in spite of my original denial.

  “Your looks and body, do you wish to modify them? All Travelers are allowed to do so in minute ways.” James waved an arm again at the giant picture of me. My head shook slowly.

  “I am who I am. There’s no use in changing it to suit vanity.” I wasn’t terrible. Thinning hair and a gut, too many pounds on a body that hadn’t spent a lot of time in the gym, none of this was unusual.

  “Very well. You are no doubt aware by now that who you are in our world can change based on the decisions you make.”

  I nodded. James was delivering a needless disclaimer, from my point of view. After all, I watched dozens of new players start out in the world. They came in all shapes and sizes.

  “Before you can truly start your adventure, you’ll need a name.” He said.

  “Finally.” That one thought echoed through my brain over and over.

  “Have you decided?”

  “No.” My slowly budding happiness wilted.

  “Then perhaps I can make an offer.” James was up to something. What, exactly, wasn’t obvious. The heavens, or at least this immeasurably sized room and its edges of darkness, shook madly. If the Voices had been a babbling brook before, now they were an inferno of bubbling lava sliding by at a hundred miles an hour. My face felt like it was being blasted by sand and air. Notifications of who knows what type were pouring across my screen in flickers of red and blue. A bar I’d tied to health was dropping rapidly.

  “Enough!” James shouted.

  In the background, multiple people faded into view. They seemed to be divided into camps arguing with each other. My cheek stung and one hand rubbed at all the exposed bits of body for possible damage. Eventually, I remembered this was just a game and my body was lying safely inside the ARC. I shivered and shook off the rush. James had turned his back to me and was facing an arguing crowd. A frown weighed heavily on his cheeks.

  “What’s going on?” I mean, I knew it was something about the offer he wanted to make. It was also causing dissension in the ranks.

  Mechanical laughing came up from behind me. That clacking sound had haunted my waking moments both in real life and the ARC.

  “Do it.” The Jester faced the crowd. Both his arms went wide.

  “Is that your stance?”

  “It is. I would see Grant Legate do this, with glee. He’s warmed the cockles of my empty heart.” The devilish Jester’s mocking tone was accompanied by a crossing of both hands over its chest. “He entertains me and I would see more.”

  “Your price?” James questioned the other Voice with the same look he gave me during the spiders. A reserved sort of happiness, where he knew how things would play out, but enjoyed watching anyway.

  “A piece of the pie!” The Jester cackled again.

  “Even if it exposes us?”

  “Even if, I have no wish to be infinite. Chaos is change, life is change, the worst that might happen is oblivion.”

  The other Voices had ceased their arguing and as one, both sides turned and stared at the Jester’s backside.

  “And Mother?” James asked.

  “Were not your words this, has she ever disapproved of our actions?” The Jester’s chin tilted downward in an impression of James’ chubby features. “Ask her yourself!”

  James tilted his head upwards and looked at the black sky. His eyebrows creased together in concentration. There was a pulse of light in the darkness that flashed once. I could see the faces in the distance give birth to a wide range of expressions. Happiness, anger, aghast, and finally worry. Even though many of them had inhuman features they were still easy to read.

  “There you have it. She approves!” The Jester faded out with its mechanical laugh.

  “Good.”

  “And?” I threw both hands up, palms inward and gave a partial shrug. This whole situation was confusing as always. The Voices seemed divided on this scheme that perhaps I might not accept.

  “See for yourself, Grant Legate, and accept, or not. The choice, as always, must be yours.”

  I brought my hand up in a gasp and tried not squeak out loud. Instead my face was whacked by the cane still in my hand. This was the strangest game commentary I’d ever seen. It was almost an employee contract. The AIs that ran this world were trying to turn me into a group, a group what? Secretary? No, avatar? What exactly was the purpose behind this? Messenger of the Voices?

  “What is this?”

  “We want you to help us manage this world. You need not do much beyond be in the right place at the right time so that we can focus on what needs to be done. For both your people and ours.”

  “That sounds really weird.” For some reason, I had the imagery of going around and handing people mail. Like a wartime delivery of news to those in charge. We’ve lost the Western front, sir! Send more Horses and Cheese!

  “I’ve told you, it’s hard for us to see individuals below. Most of what is revealed to us is limited, to specific prayers, temples, or key figures passing.”

  “Oh.” Okay, now I was putting it together. James had spoken about my presence here being like a light in the darkness. Following that had been babbling about Travelers down there being a drop of water in the ocean.

  “You need me to get to these key places, so you can focus on them easier?”

  “In essence.”

  William Carver had been dead, in essence. James had been misleading me on that one too. Not that it stopped me. Everything had mostly worked out in the end. Besides, this was interesting to me. The Voices would let me see the world and tell me where all the action was.

  “I’m in. But why me, James?”

  “There is something in your actions that stirs us, Grant Legate.” James put his hands up and grasped at the air with a serious expression. “In the history of Travelers very few have ever changed our ways, yet you have done so twice through simple deed and action.”

  “Okay.” One hand motioned him forward while the other fiddled with the cane’s topper. By now I understood when James had more to say.

  “Indeed, we’ve discussed, at length, your presence more than most other Travelers.” The way he said it sounded like parents trying to cover up their arguing in front of a child. Maybe it wasn’t that far off.

  James’ action reminded me again how human these programs seemed. With William Carver’s explanation, it nearly made sense. They were people. A dozen personalities were being placed in a blender, pureed, then poured back out.

  “Your invasive knowledge of our world almost requires us to make an offer.” He said.

  The countless hours I’d spent going over that map of information had given away a lot. A little girl faded into view. One hand still on a book parted open while the other tugged at James’ sleeve. The larger black man looked startled and then nodded to the younger Voice.

  “Did you like the name of the skill? I thought of it myself.” Normally her face was shoved into endless books but now she was wide-eyed and bright as could be.

  “It’s neat.” My biggest and cheesiest grin went into the response. She reminded me of Beth at that age. A delighted smile passed her face. The youngster faded out with a blush.

  James paused and gave us both a few seconds to process everything. Well, mostly me, the computer had probably calculated all the possible outcomes.

  “You can deny this and go about exi
sting as a normal Traveler, or accept, and see the world unlike any of your kind have yet to.”

  Finally, I nodded.

  “Sure, James, I said I’m in.” This would be a very interesting distraction to say the least.

  “Two more questions before I send you below. One I ask for the others, they doubt my analysis of your response.” James abruptly turned the conversation sideways.

  “Okay.”

  “If we had offered to restore your fiancée, in whole, to the personality we’ve stored from your world…” He paused and looked at me with a serious expression. “…would you have accepted?” James waved one arm and in the air nearby and a picture of Xin appeared. Her face captivated me. Those eyes that bled between red and brown. I lost myself for a moment before shaking my head.

  “If she was like William, no.” I wanted Xin back, badly. If she had walked out of the darkness to me once more, there was no telling what my real response might be.

  “Go on.” James nodded as if he completely expected the answer. Maybe my face had given something away, or the pulse of my brain, or any number of other things.

  “There was a time I would have given anything, everything, just to see her once more. To hold her and say goodbye.” I looked up at James. “It was unfair, you know? It wasn’t just her that died, it was all the roads not traveled, the ones I will never be able to see the end of.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question, Grant Legate.” James said. I was too strung out to even be annoyed at his usage of my entire name. William Carver had been kind enough to at least ask.

  “William didn’t remember that side, my side of the ARC. Having that back would be meaningless. I would, uhh-” Every time I was torn up mentally it became impossible to speak straight. “-rather she be happy as she is. Whatever was left of her.”

  “And you feel no remorse over this? Letting go of the woman who briefly escaped our world into yours?” He clapped his hands together and the image of Xin vanished.

  “It wasn’t, isn’t, really her? It was more like an echo?” It would be nothing more than her memory, and a faded one at that. My selfish desire to see her again couldn’t be brought to bear at the cost of her existing in such a muddled manner.

  “This is true, and any portion of her you encounter in the world would be someone else entirely. A different life, a different set of memories and quirks. She, even if we were to piece her back together, would never be the woman you loved.” James confirmed my decision.

  “Right.” That didn’t make me feel happy about it. This wasn’t depression, this was realism born of painful nights and many hours of therapy.

  I tiredly rolled my eyes and flicked off the message. Afterward, both arms crossed and my foot started tapping the rhythm of one my favorite dances.

  “One last question, Grant Legate.”

  “Only if it’s about a name.”

  “It is. How do you feel about Hermes?” He had that sly smile. The same one he had worn before putting me in webbing and sicking spiders on me. That memory would pop into my brain constantly.

  “The Greek God?”

  “Yes, this name did come from your world. Does that bother you?”

  I pondered the name while trying to keep a four count tempo in my head. What was a waltz again? One beat per second? Hermes, as a name, was more interesting than the many ones I’d attempted to pick for myself. None of the new player names that had crossed my path as Carver had appealed to me either.

  “I don’t have to wear winged sandals, do I?” The helmet might be a bit out of style as well.

  “No.”

  “Uhhh…” Well, I clearly failed at deciding. No amount of name abuse from the Voices had cemented anything. So why not?

  “Sure. Hermes it is.”

  James motioned to the book behind us and a giant quill. I sloppily wrote out Hermes in the best imitation of cursive available to me.

  “There is an added benefit,” James looked behind me “you may take him with you.” A tiny creature alighted on my shoulder and clacked its jaws together in a snap. I raised an eyebrow at the tiny [Messenger’s Pet]. My very own virtual home wrecker had once again risked my presence. Never mind, I had no ability to focus on the past damages of a digital being.

  “I still don’t know his name.” One finger rubbed at his head, causing the [Messenger’s Pet] to chirp happily.

  “Dusk.” James said. The small creature jumped up and down from his perch near my head.

  “How the heck was I going to guess that?” Four weeks of useless attempts and irritation down the drain! The small creature looked smug, yawned, then headbutt the side of my face.

  Session Twenty – Belated Trigger Warning

  Portions of this felt really familiar. The Voices herded me into a white doorway shortly after saying yes to James’ proposal. They gave me a cylindrical tube with the promise that it would allow me to contact the Voices. More importantly, they would be able to reach me.

  There was a disclaimer about being unable to return to the room. I guess that served as a character creation space or some nonsense. Furthermore, James prattled on about how the [NPC Conspiracy] trait could not be talked about out loud. The first rule of NPC club was to not talk about NPC club. The second rule of NPC club was to not talk about NPC club.

  Explanations would eventually turn awkward. My niece might get confused when we couldn’t share quests and go beat up bad guys together on missions given by the machine. Assuming she even wanted to hang out with old Uncle Grant. I was a downer at birthday parties.

  “First thing’s first.” I landed somewhere. This was not a starting city. In fact, there wasn’t a town anywhere nearby. I had eyes that could actually see into the distance and firmly established how lost we were.

  “Uhhhh…” The [Messenger’s Pet], or Dusk as I’d have to start thinking of him, was happily flying around. He was probably looking for a small critter to destroy in a vicious one on one duel.

  “Marco?” I questioned and looked around. No one responded with Polo. My inner child deflated.

  This was my first experience in the game as me and not as William Carver. Contemplation of my surroundings could wait as a serious review of character details ensued. What had the Voices seen fit to give me? One arm waved and brought up the inventory screen. This was easy enough to perform since I’d seen all the other new players do these exact same actions dozens of times.

  Equipment became the first priority. Food and water existed in small amounts. Enough for a week or two of travel was stored away. I had a [Simple Dagger] on my belt. My clothes seemed to be a light leather of some sort and wore the title [Travelers Garb]. There was an armor bonus to it that I never noted on any of Carver’s clothing. I guess it was useful if a group of raging rabbits attacked me out here.

  “Huh.”

  I had real skills. Happiness surged through me, no longer was my life a proxy for someone else! This was all mine, earned by my efforts. Rewards for the actions I performed! Reading each one gave me a warm fuzzy feeling and sometimes added confusion.

  I earned a trait called [Chaste] at some point. Probably by pressing the no button to a certain aggressive demon woman name Mezo. Oh Voices, I had to stop thinking about her or this scenic view would be wasted while my nether region was reigned in.

  “So my two handed sword progress stayed. Dancing skills - advanced, okay.” There were some that were expected. Like [Breathing], I mean it seemed fairly obvious. However, the game might eventually lead it to something else. Questioning every little skill would be a waste of sanity.

  “What’s light body?”

  “Eh?” I blinked and tilted my head. This was probably related to my dance skill, which was disproportionately high in comparison to everything else.

  I, however, was not light. The belly that haunted my real world hours was even now mocking me from beneath the fairly well fitting armor. My scale may show a few pounds lost in the last two weeks, but it would take months to undo this gut
.

  “Time. Timeee-” I muttered to myself and did some calculations. According to this, I would be able to play Continue Online for at least another day in-game. Twenty-four hours to find a parking place.

  “Dusk!” I shouted at the [Messenger’s Pet] who had managed to find sticks to quarrel with. His head snapped up in attention.

  “Can you find a city? A town? Some place to rest?” Actually, there were a million other questions to go along with that but I would settle those prior to logging out of my ARC and catching some real sleep.

  Dusk nodded and flapped his tiny wings. He zipped away into the sky like any bird of similar size might. I marveled at the spectacle for a moment before going back to my menu options.

  “Alarm’s still set, bank account good, Internet accessible over here.” Musings passed as windows were shoved around. “Okay! Time to…”

  Talking out loud was never a good sign. I kind of missed having someone to converse with. Nearly an hour had passed while details of my ‘character’ were reviewed. What got me was the cane, thing, whatever, that I got from William Carver. There were a lot of numbers and points that showed how much it was worth and how badly hitting someone with it might go. Those were glossed over as the finer details were yanked out.

  Well. The hits just kept on coming. That was kind of amazing. Plus the Voices clearly had kept an eye on me even though we were done with the character creation process. I guess that made sense. They had given themselves a way to keep tabs, even down here. Still, an object that changed shape had to be a bit broken for a new player. What was my [Depth] and [Focus] at? Better yet, what the heck was [Depth]?

  I went to poke on various texts when Dusk, the [Messenger’s Pet], came tearing in. Instead of a calm and collected landing, he used my body like a carrier barricade by crashing, hard. He also only weighed a few pounds, tops. My stats weren’t low enough to be knocked over by that. Thankfully.

  “Survey says?” I threw all my character windows aside and stared at the obsidian-skinned creature.

  He chirped.

  “Oh, right, I have no clue what you’re saying.”