Continue Online (Book 1, Memories)

by Stephan Morse

  “Not because I’d grown weary of raising my sword, but because the torch must be passed. Every Traveler I send on their way is another legend in the making.” HotPants almost looked misty-eyed as I spoke. “But I’m too hard headed to die without one last adventure of my own.”

  I swear to the Voices above that if there had been a progress bar still, it would have shot right through the roof. My WWCD had all fired to their maximum. Validation was further received from a giant notice which appeared in front of all four players. Beyond super neat. The message wasn’t visible from my angle, but it was likely some sort of system pop-up about William Carver’s legacy. Or a quest change.

  “Jesus. I’m going to start crying over here.” HotPants actually looked like she meant it. Strange, I would have expected SweetPea to crack first.

  “This is…”

  “Awesome, yeah we get it.”

  “Awesome’s my father.” HotPants weakly gave Awesome Jr. a whack over the head for repeating his catchphrase again. I kept my smile inside and let the players do what they would. Next to us a path to the maze’s center lay open. Inside would contain challenges for us all. Most especially for me, Carver’s last adventure was close.

  Here’s hoping the old man enjoyed the ride. What had I said to him in the mirror? Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

  Session Seventeen - “Leeroy”

  Clearing the monsters proved to be the right choice. Bushes had returned to normal all around us and were far less cranky about being cut down. In the distance, either way, ink riddled colors swam and waved to an unseen breeze.

  “Careful. I think there’s more of those things out there.” One of the players said.

  “A lot more.” SweetPea was huddled near the back again. HotPants stood guard while Shadow used both knives to cut away a path.

  “Okay, I declare these hedges trimmed, HotPants, you’re first,” Awesome Jr. said.

  “Alright.” She tilted her staff and squeezed into the narrow path we cleared out. I followed next, being the old man in need of an escort.

  Inside was nothing close to what a maze should have.

  Were those people lining the outer edge of a giant square? Not standard individuals but weird ghostly outlines. I squinted old eyes and looked into the distance. There was a small army of people standing around. Each of them was female. Even poor vision couldn’t disguise some of those curves. They became less ghostly and more real the longer we stood there watching.

  Oh no.

  “What’s this?” Shadow asked.

  “Memory lane,” I answer while trying not to feel my gut drop. Being praised for another man’s actions was bad enough. This would be far more awkward. Carver may have been a brave warrior, but he was also a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. This whole setup was a gallery of ex-lovers.

  “Is that music?” SweetPea asked as a series of string instruments filled the air.

  “Are those all women?” Awesome Jr. had focused on the important prospects in front of him. SweetPea and he were almost a couple, but there was a varying amount of flesh being displayed. Teenage males were notorious for being confused in these situations. Nearsightedness saved me from the same mistake.

  “William. Did you think you could sneak off and leave without so much as a goodbye?” That sweet voice stood out among all the others I had heard. Carver’s personally most compromised Priestess.

  “High Priestess.”

  “After all these years, and all we’ve been, you can’t call me Peach?”

  “She’s named Peach?” Awesome Jr. seemed more concerned with the cut of Peach’s dress than anything else.

  “She’s a High Priestess for Selena. Up on the cliff over town.” HotPants muttered in response. “Not my style of Voice, but still, she’s done good.”

  “Yes, I am Peach, and yes, young Traveler, that is music,” She answered the questions in turn with her falsely sweet words.

  “How are you here?”

  “I’m not, not really, none of us are.” Priestess Peach gestured to the area around her. “To us, this is a dream granted to us by the Voices. I thank Selena for this.”

  “I’m sorry, Peach.” My words tasted bitter. Peach had been among the few I ignored over the course of this last day. She seemed genuinely fond of the old man and I discarded all that in my rush of letters.

  “As if I’d let you escape without at least trying to gain your pledge.” Peach responded.

  “How about one last dance?” I questioned, putting a few things together.

  “I guess that will have to do.” She smiled, and though her pitch and tone were a practiced facade, everything else she was looked pleased.

  “Are you sure? My hips aren’t what they used to be you know.” I tried to joke with her. Priestess Peach had been one of the first to point out Old Man Carver’s shortcomings out loud.

  “For this, I think the Voices can shed some forgiveness.”

  “What are we supposta to do Priestess?” Shadow asked.

  “You do whatever it is you Travelers do.” She waved them off. To her, none of this was real. Why should she care what happened to other people in a dream?

  “Huh?”

  Priestess Peach was proof positive that computers were not required to care about human beings. I said a fervent prayer to our future overlords in hopes there would be room in the metal polishing market. Or maybe I could move up to the hills where the Internet was still a myth.

  “Come on, William.” Priestess Peach put out a hand waiting for me. I reached out mine and felt a pleasant energy wash from head to toe.

  “Ehh.” Moving felt a bit easier again. My joints became a bit more limber. Behind me, I could hear the others exclaim in surprise about something. My hearing hadn’t improved with everything else.

  Gift Received: [Age Reduction]

  Description: Each successful dance and wave of [Ink Nightmares] will reduce William Carver’s age. Statistics lost as a result of [Old Age] will be returned for the duration of this gift. This gift is temporary.

  A small box displayed information for me. That was thankfully useful. I couldn’t be expected to cut a rug as an old man, not one who spent too much time being sedentary. The music was a slow general theme. We were both lucky in how well it fit my own personal skills. William Carver himself had no dance traits or abilities that I had ever seen. This was pure me in his body.

  And High Priestess Peach felt almost sinful. If my body had been that of a much younger man I might have reacted quite differently. As it was we spun in time to the beat. Our dance was a slow spin that still managed to lift her dress a tiny amount. Were I able to go faster the other players might get a glimpse of her birthmark.

  The song went on and with each step I felt a little better, a little straighter, the ache in my shoulder wasn’t as sharp as before. Our dance ended with a bow and another woman stepped up from the audience.

  “Goodbye, you old goat,” Priest Peach said with a single dripping tear. “Goodbye.” And she faded away leaving me facing a new partner, one who looked a little hurt.

  “Where are my manners.” I tried to turn on all of Carver’s lady-killing charm. “May I have this dance?”

  “My wild man, I’ve been waiting for this dance for years.” This woman looked familiar from Carver’s sometimes extremely vivid descriptions. Each one was familiar in some form or another. In the background over each woman’s shoulder, there were visible signs of a struggle. The players were busy fending off waves of other creatures. These were like the ones from outside the maze only smaller and more numerous. Probably the [Ink Nightmare]s mentioned in my gift description.

  Screaming was muted under the sound of music and each partner’s movements. They followed better than Maud had, likely assisted by the machine. My brain couldn’t wrap itself around each one of these NPCs practicing dancing just to wait for Carver to kick the bucket. In their minds this was all a dream. Which answered one o
f the age old questions, do robots dream? They do indeed, of Old Man Carver sweeping them across the dance floor.

  I chuckled as partners exchanged again. Moving had grown far easier. Eyesight had recently approached real world clarity. Each dance partner was further and further along Carver’s time line here in Continue. Another, and another, until finally I was standing with an elf of some sort. She was rather good looking. Her neck was long and shoulders slender. There was a litheness to her form that belayed a ballet dancer. It was easy to see why William Carver might have done any mission she ever requested.

  “Is it almost over?!” HotPants’ yelling had grown far clearer now.

  “I think so, this is the last one!”

  “Hold on a little longer!” SweetPea was busy pressing hands over a wounded Shadow. He laid there gasping for breath off to one side of the dance floor.

  “You heard the lady, one last dance,” I said softly to the elf. No amount of time reversals could bring Carver back to perfect. He started this game physically worn out and kept right on going. Regardless, my back was much better. Only now did I truly appreciate the kind of stones he had. He played a game where everything felt almost too real and risked it all to achieve his dream here in a fantasy world.

  “And here we are, back to your first in our world.” My nameless elven partner smiled as we moved across the floor. She was a bit more talkative than the others had been.

  “I remember.” I didn’t, but William had.

  “You know, if you’d danced as well back then as you do now, I might never have let you leave.”

  “I had adventures to go on.” William Carver did. Who could say what I myself might have done.

  “I waited you know. I’m still waiting.” She was sad too. The other ladies had all worn different expressions. Some were full of joy, others were nearly possessive. Two went so far as to give Carver a firm smack on the ass, which meant I bore their aggressive tactics in his stead.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever make it back.”

  “I knew you never would.” She sighed and it felt like the wind moved through us softly. “You were the first Traveler I’d ever seen you know.”

  I took her hand and stepped into a dance. The music sounded a bit more aggressive, and I treated the motions as such, confident that the machine could keep up. Her commentary was difficult to respond to. This elf, a woman whose name I never learned from Carver’s journals, knew he wasn’t a local.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Our steps were wide movements, bringing us from one end of the labyrinths dance hall to the other. Walls of inky purple had grown to nearly nothing over the course of many partners.

  “Hold it!”

  “SweetPea, tell me you got more of those heals!”

  “Yes!”

  “Get HotPants back together.”

  There was a crash of flame and fire off to the side that had grown much more obvious as my avatar in the game improved. Eyesight could see where streams of tiny creatures had fallen. The players were torn, blood dripped everywhere. Horror crisscrossed my face as I realized that they were in trouble while I had been enjoying a myriad of beautiful women. Not only trouble, they were getting beat senseless.

  “Thank you, Grant, for giving me one last moment with him.” Her commentary was enough to be the final straw on my fragmented attention. My well-practiced steps completely fall apart.

  I twisted a foot and lost myself. The cane, which had somehow been tucked into a rope of my clothing, fell loose with a clatter. From the ground, I turned and looked at the woman who used my real name, both worried and hopeful that I might see my deceased fiancée. No such luck. She was a slender thing with none of the same facial features.

  “Goodbye, William. May whatever passes for Voices in your world be kind in their judgments.”

  Then she too faded away.

  “It’s done!” One of the players shouted.

  “They’ve stopped spawning!” SweetPea was really into it now. No longer did she hide, in fact, she was fiercely participating in the fight now. Awesome Jr. was cradling an arm and busy eying a pile of dead monsters. Glass was everywhere and parts of bushes were on fire.

  “Melissa, use whatever you’ve got left to heal the others.” Awesome Jr. was huffing and waved SweetPea off to the other players.

  I watched all of this while confusion racked through my mind. The ground looked far more normal. Above us, there was a hint of dawn pushing back the inky darkness. The ground started to rumble.

  “Oh good god.” HotPants was trying to push herself back up with the staff. SweetPea’s hands glowed with a faint blue over her back and sent some lights spiraling into her back.

  “I don’t know how much I have left…” The little healer said.

  “It’s okay, I think. Carver’s done.” Awesome Jr. was rubbing SweetPea’s back trying to reassure her.

  “Jesus wept. Look at him.” HotPants said. “That’s not the same guy. Robot. Not the same robot.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  I looked down and took stock in the differences. Not only was the robe I had come to love completely gone, I was wearing some sort of scale mail. Heavy but this armor was flexible enough to move around in.

  One hand went for the cane out of habit and I managed to get both feet under me. Nearby the flashing inky colors that lingered about [Maze of Midnight] shuddered. Suddenly blacks, purples, and blues dripped off the plants and crawled towards the dance floor. My band filled background was gone. If I were a betting man this event called for some epic boss music. Sure enough almost in time with my standing the inks swarmed together forming a larger mass.

  “Voices have mercy,” I swore.

  More vein like collections of ink poured in from around us. Globs would reach up towards the sky, stacking on top of each and forming a giant creature. Almost like it was pulling up from the depths of some artist’s nightmare. First a giant leg, then a forearm. The shape looked dreadfully familiar.

  “Is that?” Awesome Jr. asked.

  “Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not nearly strong enough for that. I want to hit stuff, not be pummeled senselessly. I don’t need that in here.”

  “It’s not a real one.” Shadow protested with a hint of doubt in his tone.

  The cane was a giant sword again. The tip much easier to keep up with Carver’s improved grip. Behind me, the other players were gathering together in a huddle. Whispers went back and forth about what to do next. Meanwhile, our enemy grew even bigger, taller, thicker until we faced a creature that took up a huge chunk of the room.

  “That’s a nope.”

  “Complete nope.” SweetPea agreed. “So gross.”

  SweetPea was dead on with her assessment. We weren’t looking at a normal dragon shaped creature. This had no wings on its back. Littered all over the claws, shoulders, spine, and down to the tails tip were little tentacles. Like the monsters we had been fighting before.

  “What do we do?” HotPants whispered a very good question.

  “The door behind us is closed,” SweetPea said with a note of panic.

  There was only one thing to do. Only one choice William Carver would make. I readied the blade to one side, took the stance Peg trained me in, and pulled up every ounce of foolish courage available. There was a welling of energy that rushed up my arms and to the top of my head. A mad sort of grin lifted my ears.

  “LEEERRROOOYYYYYYYYYYY!” The sheer silliness of my battle cry counteracted the terror. That and the giant sword, something about it was a great equalizer.

  I got one good swing in, slashing across the giant monstrosity’s leg. A tail came and my arm automatically moved to use the flat edge of the sword for a block. There was enough time for a prayer of thanks to the Voices above for giving me an assist. Carver’s skills, not mine, would carry the majority of this fight.

  “If he’s going, I’m going.” Shadow was much easier to hear now that I wasn’t completely enfeebled by virtual old age.

  “Right
.” Awesome Jr. agreed. “It’s only a game…”

  I got another good swipe in before a giant paw came down from above to crush me. This one was slow enough that I could move out of the way. If dance had taught me one thing, it was how to get across space in one or two easy steps.

  Grasping tentacles reached out of the giant leg and clawed at the parts of me too close. Health points shaved off in bits. I stepped further back and swung the lightened blade. Where my sword passed, globs of inky monsters came apart.

  “Carver!” A player cried out.

  “Old Man!”

  “To hell with this, if he can do it, I can.” HotPants charged in from the side of his right leg and gave a stab.

  “Ugh!” Her staff sunk into the monstrous forearm and refused to come out.

  “HotPants!” Awesome Jr. hadn’t hesitated in lighting up one of his flasks. “I’ve only got three more!”

  “Make them count!”

  “Aim for the head!” Shadow yelled.

  I dodged another blow from the tail and rolled away. Pain waved through the shoulder and a computer assist allowed me to keep a grip on the sword somehow. Heat flashed as two more imitation Molotovs lit up. One got the monster’s shoulder resulting in a giant shriek of anger. Noise far deeper than the ones outside rippled through the mazes inner sanctum.

  “Carver!” I turned and looked ask the second ball of fire went off. This one completely missed the creature due to his sudden withdrawal.

  “What?!”

  “Look out!” SweetPea cried, her voice turning into a high pitched whine.

  Oh. The creature’s tail swept in again and caught me full on in the middle. Part of the blade was up in a block, not enough to resolve the collision. I went flying into a wall of bushes. These bordered between the cleansed green and inky taint.

  “SweetPea!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t distract the NPC!” Shadow yelled while stomping downward at the latest pile of little tentacle monsters to come out of the big creature.

  “But I was helping!” She wasn’t really.

  “Shut up and kill the little ones before they crawl back!” HotPants screamed. She was busy trying to sweep a pile of them away with her staff. “The little ones keep giving that big guy health!”