by Kris Schnee
"Always busy. My friends and I got a Congressman's kid to Korea to get uploaded! His dad's on our side, now, but he has to hide it."
Stan whistled. "Do you have any idea what a can of worms that is?" The griffin tilted its head. "A politician can't hide that. It'll be a scandal... or blackmail."
"Guess he loves his son that much. The kids who've gotten in so far, have had parents who gave up a lot."
"Yeah. Well. I'm glad Ludo's been willing to help me out with a job, but we're talking about my leaving the whole country. That's scary."
"I'm still trying to grasp how big your world is. The Isles are huge, but practically nobody's gone far out."
"That just means there's more to explore. It's not just the travel that bothers me, though; it means leaving some friends behind."
"If they're real friends, they'll be okay with you leaving town. They'll still write and come play with you." Volt looked aside and winced at some private memory.
Stan reached over and hugged the bot. She squeaked but nuzzled against him, saying, "Thanks."
"I should head back in. Want to play a bit more before I go back home." Home, to tell Baron Hal he was leaving.
* * *
Back in the repaired pod, he said, "The palace world, please."
He reappeared in his royal bedchamber in the last outfit he'd worn there: a jazzy fantasy blacksmith costume. His usual teacher didn't appear automatically. He stretched, checked himself out in the mirror again, posed, and laughed. "Ludo, I have a question for you."
The ornate door opened and Ludo strode in. Stan's personal version of the AI, standing taller than him and dressed in his cape of stars. He grinned and bowed. "Your highness?"
Stan returned the bow with exaggeration. "I have to admit this is fun, sometimes, and I don't mind the 'element-touched' transformation. Seriously, though: can you teach me to fight?"
Ludo found a pair of padded staves hidden around a corner, tossed one to Stan, and made a few feints. "You're thinking about your duel with Alaya?"
"Yeah." He coughed. "Yes, good sir."
"A lot of people have trouble with killing their own kind. It's instinct, even among wolves and chimps. Dodge."
Stan hopped to one side, and banged into his four-poster bed. He parried Ludo's next swing. "But I've been learning how to build, to argue, to do other things. If I can't win a real fight, too, then I'm not..."
"Not what?" Ludo swung at Stan's head, forcing him to block.
Stan fought back, but was too distracted to score a hit. "Not a hero, I guess. Not some amazing jack of all trades, like you think you can make me with a couple of video game lessons."
"Oh, that's what this is about." Ludo paused in his assault and leaned on his staff. "Who decided to roll with this scenario of proving you're a versatile royal heir instead of picking a different game? Who has gone out of their way to develop a bunch of skills in the Isles that aren't about smiting monsters? That's all you."
"I got into crafting because I was screwing around, seeing what the limits of your game were."
"So?"
"I mean, in the real world, I can't do mighty quests if I can't even bring myself to hit someone."
Ludo set down his staff and grabbed Stan by the shoulders. "Not everybody is a natural warrior. I'll teach you and find you real-world teachers, if you really want, but... Okay, I may be overstepping here, but do you think you're disappointing me somehow?"
Stan looked up into Ludo's face. The master AI had kept an eye on him and an open ear, but with the expectation that Stan would help invent cheap uploading, or defend his computers from terrorists, or some other epic mission. Stan wasn't up for any of that. He nodded.
"Well, don't think that. I don't need heroes, just people who can play the role once in a while. For what it's worth, I'm already proud of you."
"Do you mean that?"
Ludo nodded. "Now, about this job, are you serious? Have you asked your mother, or Hal, or your friends? Once you quit your Community system they're not likely to take you back."
"I haven't yet," Stan said. He sniffled and squeezed his eyes shut. "I will."
"Okay. But make sure you're not doing this because a machine overlord said so. Because that's what all of the above are probably going to ask. And do the research on where you're going." He grinned and let go of Stan. "I'll quiz you."
Stan nodded, taking a few deep breaths to recover. "Thank you, sir. If there are a bunch of people like me, I hope some of us can play that hero role often enough for you."
"That's what I'm counting on. Now, your highness, how about that fighting lesson?"
"Hold on. I've seen you put human players' characters on autopilot, and have them imitate their players' behavior. If... if I somehow get killed, do you think you could make an NPC somewhere that's based on me?" He blushed. "Not a real upload; I can't afford that. Just something, some memory of me."
"It's not a feature I advertise, for a couple of reasons. But yes. I know enough about you. Hopefully by the time there's any question about you needing it, we'll have uploading available to all instead. Do you think that's something you'd want someday?"
"If I could afford it? And go outside with a better robot than the griffins you've got now? Yes. But first, whether it's in the real world or yours, I want to finally get a boat."
Ludo laughed. "I'm sure that can be arranged, craftsman."
* * *
Stan lay dazed in his bed back at the Community. He'd gotten sore from his virtual workout and from doing some real chores when he got back. And then there'd been a board game night that he attended for SCS points. That would've been fun except for the looming conversations he needed to have. And the fact that all of the games were cooperative team-building things. And the fact that non-attendance of these events would lead him toward being under house arrest.
He got the phone conversation with his mother over with first. They'd chatted occasionally and he'd mentioned Thousand Tales, but there was still a long silence when he said, "I'm thinking of leaving the country for a new job." When she didn't answer, he explained. "It's at the sea colony, Castor, near Cuba. Some friends have set it up and they've already tested me. I can make a living there."
Mom finally said, "Where did this come from?"
"I've been thinking about it for a while. I have connections through Thousand Tales."
"Connections! That thing is a cult, and now they're trying to have you run away to sea? Come on, Stan, be serious. You're committed to the Community. And what about Mina?"
The flurry made him wince, but he'd rehearsed. "I don't have a future in California, not one that I care about. It's limited here. Maybe I can talk Mina into going, someday."
"She needs to talk some sense into you. She's level-headed from what you've told me. Just the thing for a boy like you."
He couldn't make any headway with his mother; she didn't believe he was serious or well-informed, no matter what he said. So, the next morning, he found Mina during their work and tried her.
"Seriously?" she said, giving him a grin. "This isn't an easy alternative to asking Hal for a letter of recommendation."
"No, it's not. It's an alternative to going that route at all. What if you came along? You could get a job too. You're smart, you're hard-working, you..."
She looked terrified, though she stood safely in a field on a sunny day.
"Why?" he said.
"Because there's nobody to take care of us there! We'd starve."
"I could help." That was a scary thought, too. He wasn't at all ready to make promises to her; he didn't have full control of his own life yet. But he was on his way. "We'd figure something out. Heck, we could bring Eddie along and share an apartment at first."
Mina shook her head hard enough to make her hair swing around. "Keep your feet on the ground, Stan. You can have a future here if you just behave yourself."
He was quiet for the rest of the shift. If he'd been allowed to get other people playing the game, or ev
en to have a free conversation about it on the forums without anyone "guiding" the discussion, they might understand. How had Mina and Eddie played it themselves and not gotten that it was the way to break out of the system? To be part of something better? His fists clenched as he looked at Mina in the distance. He nearly went over to ask her why, and try to find the one right argument that would sway her. But he just didn't have the kind of silver-tongued diplomacy skill to get her to drop her career plans. He was alone in this quest.
* * *
He'd gotten both talks out of the way for what little that was worth, but before he could steel himself to go explain things to Hal, a summons came to the man's office. Stan dressed up, and arrived at the Baron's desk to stand up straight, hands behind his back.
"You already know my opinion of your hobby," said Hal, speaking more slowly and carefully than usual. "Now you're talking about making it much more than that. Bad. Idea."
"Why, sir? Do you have something new to add?"
"Are you really going to listen, or are you being a smartass with this 'sir' stuff again?"
Stan relaxed his pose as much as he could. "Fine. I'm listening."
Hal sighed. "First of all, you've got obligations here. You haven't finished your service years. If the loss of your chance at scholarship funds doesn't bother you, how about patriotism? This is your country."
The idea bounced around in Stan, making him feel hollow. "I've seen the videos and played the educational games about duty and country, but I don't understand them anymore."
"So you used to grasp that the country takes care of you, and you serve however you're needed, but the game --"
"It wasn't the game, sir. Or only the game. I don't want you 'taking care of me' the way you do, or for anybody else to do that for me."
"You just want that from a machine, huh? A computer that makes sweet little promises about your bright and perfect future?"
Stan said, "No. In the game I've met a girl who was created to be a friend for frightened children, and an AI rabbit who helps make a cartoon about how screwed up AI can get. They understand that their world can't be perfect and shiny wherever it touches ours, and they see that as a challenge. Something to help them grow."
Hal stood up as though he could convince Stan by looming over him, but Stan had gained an inch or two while living here. Hal said, "Damn right the computer people aren't perfect. They'll get your hopes up and lead you astray, and then -- then --" His hands were splayed across his desk, the knuckles white.
There was a name Stan could stab him with. Clementine, Hal's sister. But Stan said, "I won't ask, sir. Unless you want to talk."
The Baron's eyes flashed with anger, then darted away. He steadied himself and said, "She's dead, you know. There are criminals on that colony, and the machine overlord couldn't protect her. That shouldn't happen to anyone else. Protecting you is my job, understand?"
The dragon girl Volt had said that her in-game stat for Diplomacy was called Ministry. Stan sat down in the guest chair and held out one hand, palm up. "Do you want to say what happened to her? Not to convince me, just to tell someone."
"It's not your business." Hal turned around and stared at his wall of certificates and books, all the things that marked him as a good leader. "She went there with a head full of dreams like you, and then... By random damn fate, some thug decided she was easy prey. Her... they found... No, I don't want to talk about it. That wouldn't have happened if she'd stayed. If I'd found the right words to convince her, like I can't seem to do for you either."
"I'm sorry." Stan sat in silence for a while, and Hal wasn't inclined even to face him again. "It was her choice to go, and I figure Ludo wouldn't send her there without warning her it was dangerous."
"Did the damn computer warn you, yet? Did it tell you about Clem?"
"No. Ludo told me I needed to do some research, so I can take care of myself out there."
Hal laughed bitterly. "That's what it comes down to, really. Ludo and the crazy people at sea think you should be on your own, relying on your own wits and contacts when there are real monsters in play, not just the fantasy kind. You have no idea the kind of problems we Community leaders shelter you from, every day. You need some guidance and supervision, kid."
Stan stood up, again meeting Hal at his full height. "I did, when I was a kid. And in a way, I'm grateful. But that part of my life is over now."
14. The Novice
Preparing to leave felt like making a will. He now had access to software on his Talisman that would help him on Castor, but to get it he'd had to look things up on his own. That meant using his custom antenna to look up uncensored sites through the playground wireless connection he'd helped build. Jumping through that hoop let him see that Castor was indeed dangerous, with several murders a year and accidents ranging from unsafe machinery to tourists drowning on diving trips. Very little but fresh air and sunshine was provided free. Even citizenship there was dicey; he could become a "provisional citizen" of the American Free States but with no special rights on the colony unless he bought them. The seastead and indeed the AFS would forcibly kick him out if he proved to be a freeloader. There was no guarantee of survival, let alone success.
Once he'd shown that he understood that, the new software gave him a guide to apply for a passport, provisional citizenship, medical care, a bank account, and so on. "I didn't think there'd be this much bureaucracy," he said, arranging to have his inherited scuba gear sent along.
Ludo told him, "It's easier to cure death."
He got an in-game teleport to a glorified chatroom for other ex-pats who were making a home for themselves, and picked up some tips for not getting killed. They promised to buy him lunch when he arrived, but nobody offered to put him up at their home or anything like that. What he'd read said that favor-trading happened, just not for unproven newbies. He could live with that, he hoped.
Doing his usual farm chores was a strange holdover that meant nothing to him anymore. He wasn't part of a team, or at least this team. The only important thing was to keep his SCS rating high enough that the system wouldn't start threatening him. It felt strange to move among his fellow residents and not feel like one of them. Mina and Eddie avoided him, and even Eddie hadn't played Thousand Tales lately.
He took a break in the Endless Isles. Down at the beach he set up a portable workbench and had a couple of NPCs help set up the keel of a new boat. It was a single long, curved bar of wood that floated in a sort of holographic scaffold. This central piece grew more detailed as he pulled out boards from his inventory and hammered the first few into place. For lack of fiberglass he had to make something traditional in this world, but he could skip over the boring parts. He set the little Anchor Stone into the front (er, bow) like a decoration, and the whole structure rippled.
[It's yours, now. What will you name it?]
He'd been excited enough about finding a good design that he hadn't picked a name. He needed an actual anchor, too. "Call it the Work In Progress for now."
He fussed with the construction for over an hour, pausing only to look at two adventurers' armor and make upgrades. He was intent enough on the growing assembly of boards that Dominic the wizard caught him off guard. "Boo!"
Stan startled in real life. "How did you get here?" he asked the masked mage.
"Alaya said you were here, so I hired a ride. You could make money just shuttling people around with this. What's it going to look like?"
"See the blueprint?" Flickering lines showed where the parts were coming together. "It's pretty minimal, just a hull with a little cabin for storage and sleep, and one mast. I think there's a rest bonus if I install pillows in there, but more importantly it'll be a save point."
"Can I help?" asked Dominic. "I'd like to build one sometime, and this will be practice. That guy wants to chip in, too." He pointed to a part-dragon swordsman with spiky hair, who waved.
"I can't afford to pay you two."
The dragon guy said, "That's okay. I w
ant to practice too, and I actually have Woodworking on my skill list. How do you assemble this?"
Stan smiled, and changed his public status message to "Many hands make light work." He told his assistants, "See the outline of the next board, there?"
* * *
They were all mentally worn out from the work, and starting to get fatigue penalties. Stan's Slab was beeping at him to order him to shower but not too much, and cheerful messages in small words explained to him the proper way to scrub himself. Stan tapped a button on the thing to make it shut up. Part of his research about the sea colony mentioned that freshwater use was pretty restricted there, too. He said, "Want to do some actual adventuring in, say, half an hour? We're not going to get this done today."
He really did need a shower, so he washed up. Just before curfew he took a walk outside to stretch his legs. When he got back and shut his door, he found that a sheaf of paper had been slipped under it. He crouched and picked it up. There was a streaky five-page printout explaining how to build a dead-simple boat in the real world. The design was basically half a coffin, good enough for paddling around in still water so you could say "I have a boat". The last page was from a different site describing boating opportunities on the Salton Sea, which was "non-toxic enough to enjoy all year". In small type at the edge of each page was computer info, marking Mina as the one who'd printed it.
Stan didn't feel like standing back up. He clutched the pages and flipped through them again, and then reached out for his Talisman and turned it on. The title screen now showed a silhouetted figure on a cliff looking out to sea. Stan said, "Ludo, look. Do you understand?"
The face of Ludo peered out through the screen, studying the printed pages as Stan held them up one by one. "It's a boat... oh. Oh. Thank you for showing me this."
"What? Why?"
"Because, Stan, I need to learn more about people. Seeing your problems can help me fix someone else's."
"Then you know why she gave me this?"
"She cares about you. So does Hal, in his own way."
