Continue Online (Part 5, Together)

by Stephan Morse

  “Come to Papa,” Ray said. The hat went onto his head, and visible stress dripped away. The bags under both eyes slowly vanished as his stubble got under control. His face looked sharper. One of the man’s hands started flipping the coin in quick, tightly controlled spins. Each time it came up heads. “Thanks for keeping her warm for me.”

  I nodded but still felt too tired for much more.

  “Good luck, Hermes.” Ray tipped his hat, then vanished in a shaft of glittering coins.

  Dwight crawled up weakly, having recovered from unconsciousness at some point. His fingers grasped after fallen coins, but they faded rapidly into nothing. The desperate Traveler groaned.

  The fact that [Wild Bill] was a girl in Ray’s mind bothered me. [Mechanical Hades Crown] disturbed me too, but I put it on and turned around to see a row of confused players. Awesome, TinkerHell, TockDoc, and even SheHulk wore the same slack-jawed expression. Their gear shone with fresh life and no longer resembled a torn, motley collection.

  “I can’t believe you just talk to the Voice of luck like it’s nothing,” TockDoc said.

  “Ultimate Edition?” I winced and tried to pretend the situation wasn’t that impressive.

  “God, look at you. You’re…” SheHulk sputtered, then shook her head. “You know what, I give up. It’s been a long day, and I have casework to solve. Fuck this.” Then her autopilot kicked in again.

  TinkerHell looked at her friend’s autopilot, then pulled back a cheek while shaking her head. The tall blonde looked at Xin and said, “You’re a lucky woman.” Then she logged off as well.

  Awesome stood in the silence for a minute, then ventured a question. “Do you have a way back to Haven Valley? I know my son’s got those portals or whatever. Maybe we can find a close one.”

  Xin’s chest heaved slowly as she brushed off her funk. “We do. I’ve got scrolls.”

  “We can’t summon each other for half a day,” I reminded her. We had burned the summon during our fight with Nam Redrum.

  “I can give you the scroll then?” Xin suggested, showing more animation than before.

  “I’m bound to West Wall, remember?” I said.

  “Then maybe we should try your new item. Ray did something with it, right?”

  I blinked a few times, then nodded. We ran upstairs to find a content Dusk sitting on a pile of dead [World Eater] bugs that hadn’t disappeared. In between their defeated smoky forms were other little critters of all sizes.

  “Let’s see.” I stared at Dusk and tried to imagine him growing more powerful. Most abilities were activated inside the ARC through visualization, and I was too tired to trigger anything on the first few attempts.

  The system provided me a series of words that needed to be chanted. That method, per the system prompts, worked while in combat. The other method involved physically taking the crown off and activating it through button gestures. I wasn’t about to read out the [Lithium] poetry in front of so many people.

  I took off the crown and moved my fingers around its surface. My thumbs squished the leaves as if pressing a console button. That, or the violent shaking which followed, made my new helmet glow gold briefly before small gray lights flew out and swam through the air toward Dusk.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] looked up just before the whole lot of them dove into his body. He stood, trying to see his chest, while a dull glow emitted from under his scales. Dusk started to grow in size, and I backed up slowly. Xin showed no such fear and stared in awe.

  “Awesome,” Awesome said.

  “That’s you,” I muttered.

  “Neat,” Xin said.

  I took one long blink to make sure exhaustion hadn’t caused me to start hallucinating. Awed tones from other Travelers nearby let me know that his huge form was no dream. Xin refused to back up even as Dusk moved around.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] had become larger than an elephant. His wings stretched over a huge portion of the landscape, nearly hitting people as he twirled around. Gold flakes flashed through in larger patches. Dusk grumbled while turning his huge body in circles. He kept trying to snap at the brand-new saddle strapped around his chest and rear legs.

  “That’s new,” Xin said absently. After a few moments, her eyes went wide as a second wind lifted her spirits. “No, wait! Dragon ride! We’re going on a dragon ride! Right now!”

  People around us were mumbling while Xin dragged me forward. My feet dug in slightly as the immensity of my friend caught up. His eyes looked much more mesmerizing now that they weren’t as tiny.

  She pulled me toward Dusk, and the large version of my friend turned his head with a deep grumble.

  “Cupcakes!” I shouted while pointing. “No eating us, or no more cupcakes!”

  A long red tongue hung out. He took deep, panting breaths. His huge dripping maw looked both adorable and terrifying. He yawned, and giant teeth snapped together. Memories of dead [Coo-Coo Rill]s flashed across my mind. The only factor holding back Dusk from world domination had been size, and for at least an hour, that no longer applied. Dusk could easily snap us all in two if he went crazy.

  Xin was already climbing up him. Danger had never stopped her from new adventures, and riding on a pseudodragon’s back certainly qualified as new. She got into position, and I followed with a careful [Blink].

  “We’ll meet you in town!” Awesome yelled from below.

  Dusk’s head tilted toward the mechanical spiders. He purred, and I felt him tense.

  “Haven Valley!” I had no clue if he could hear me. Dusk occasionally got distracted. “Ignore the spiders!”

  “Giddy up!” Xin yelled, then kicked her dainty feet into his sides.

  Dusk’s head perked, and he turned to look back to us with a confused blink. She yelled again while I prepared to dismiss Dusk if needed.

  His head tilted, and a question mark appeared above it.

  “Haven Valley. We’ve got to turn in this key.” I took a deep breath and longed for the smaller version of Dusk. He used to be so cute, and now the [Messenger’s Pet] was a huge monstrosity. “One really big cupcake, okay?”

  He grinned, and a happy face appeared. Dusk’s large head swiveled forward as his enlarged muscles bunched together. My stomach compacted as the bumpiest horse in the world ran forward. Wings shot out wide, and air buffeted against us. Xin’s excited scream lit up the air, and I clenched both hands tightly around the small post in front of us.

  I tried to imagine him as a giant [Caliburr] but failed. Wind buffeted my face. What little food I had eaten in game threatened to unleash itself across the sky. Dusk was nothing like a mild-mannered rabbit-horse. He flew, was carnivorous, and apparently accepted cupcakes as bribes for everything.

  “Look!” Xin nudged my arm with her chin, then directed my vision to the side.

  The world rapidly shrank below us. An ocean and rainstorm approached on one side. Forestry sat serenely all around as a thick ray of sunshine lit up the terrain. Xin nudged me again, then looked forward. A rainbow, much like the one in our rings, displayed ahead.

  It was official. Seeing the world from the back of a giant [Messenger’s Pet] with my wife riding in front of me had to be the most awesome event in my life.

  We both screamed as Dusk surged higher.

  Hours later, our autopilots were left on Dusk’s back while we both logged off. The [Messenger’s Pet] moved quickly, and I desperately needed real sleep. Xin also looked like she needed downtime.

  I took care of basic necessities around the house. Every few steps, my eyes closed and dared not to open again until gravity brought me into a wall or doorjamb. Eventually, I got myself under control and staggered back to the bedroom.

  Quietly, my ARC displayed an incoming virtual room request. Dizziness pulled at my head. I desperately wanted to do nothing more than ignore the message and crash into the bed portion of the ARC while oblivion claimed me.

  Ignoring the flashing notice would be bad, however. Trillium headquarters was attempting to establish a
virtual connection. That meant someone over there expected me to log into the ARC, step into my Atrium, and join what amounted to a chatroom.

  My head shook, then I slapped my cheeks twice. They stung but brought no more awareness. I’d expected this conversation a month ago, after Miz Riley died. My list of employment sins was a mile long, and being talked to by management had always been a possibility.

  I sank myself into virtual reality and avoided Continue Online’s doorway. My hand waved through menu options until I reached a conference room invitation in my Email. I pressed the link and my Atrium vanished—replaced by a board room full of people in business suits.

  “Mister Legate.” A man sitting at the table’s head gestured to one of the open seats.

  Apparently not everyone was in attendance, or maybe virtual reality simply supplied a ton of chairs. There was no use explaining to this crowd of well-dressed people that I was too tired to connect properly.

  “I’m sorry for the delay.” I sat down and waited for the Atrium to tell me who was talking. After a moment, a small display appeared, identifying him as President Leon, the head of Trillium Inc. I hesitated but fell back upon customer service tactics. Politeness and confidence were the only ways to survive this encounter. “How can I help you, sir?”

  “We’ve never met before today, so I’ll tell you now, I value directness in my employees and am blunt in return.” He paused, and I nodded to show agreement. “Very well. You may not be aware, but four employees of Trillium are dead, resulting from the… project you’re involved in.” The man sighed, then banged his hand twice upon the virtual table. “Probably more, but four that we know of.”

  A seat to the man’s right sat empty. I stared at it for a moment, and the ARC program told me that seat should have been for the vice president.

  Miz Riley and two other deaths I knew about. The fourth I did not.

  “Despite strong opinions to the contrary, I do not blame you for any of this. We’ve done nothing but review your file and video feeds from this event, and I see no maliciousness in you that is not rampant in others.” Leon reached across the table and tapped on a display. The motion caused his avatar no strain, but in real life, he might have groaned.

  An image displayed of Nam Redrum. Long, thick black hair framed his face. Skulls were woven into his clothes while his thick chest remained bare. I didn’t remember all those details—due to the hectic battle—but looking at his character name made me feel sick.

  “For instance, the man you fought this morning is Elijah King,” Trillium’s president said.

  I tried to form words, but my thoughts were slow in coming. My ARC avatar paused for a moment to resync as the president kept talking.

  “Elijah is a highly respected motivational speaker who apparently murders people in a video game with great enthusiasm, or he did until you caused his character to be deleted.” The president stared off for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He shook his head while his eyes popped briefly. “This is not public knowledge, but I’ve also been informed you already have access to this data somehow. And so far, you’ve shown no desire to advertise the actions he took in virtual reality to the world. You’re clearly not prone to revenge.”

  “He knows because those AIs gave him access,” another man muttered.

  I felt my face drain of color as the commentary registered. They knew about my [NPC Conspiracy] usage somehow. I tried to figure out this other person’s name, but no display came up quickly enough. He spoke in firmer tones that gave me the impression of a haughty attitude, but he was much older than other board members.

  “Surprised you there, didn’t we? Too bad as the system shuts down and this”—the other man waved at stacks of paper while frowning—“event moves forward, it becomes easier to understand the data that is left.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure,” a woman said. She reminded me of Nona but wasn’t blond. Two ornate sticks pinned up her hair. According to the ARC display, her name was Lenore.

  “Please, not all of us are so stupid. The feeds are there, people talk.” The power suit man poked at our table with his forefinger. “It’s recorded online, and news stations pick it up. Even with our legal department restraining the media and Internet, we’re behind this thing.”

  The president smashed his hand down on the table while wincing. “That is not the purpose of our meeting with Mister Legate.”

  “Then what is?” I asked, finally finding my voice. “If you know all this, or suspect it, then what are we here for? Did you want to tell me I need to stop? To stop before it gets worse?” I scanned the crowd. Many wore expressions of conflicting desires. This group of company leaders being conflicted actually comforted me. “I think it’s too late for me to stop, and I don’t want to.”

  “Because of your wife,” the president stated.

  I nodded slowly but said nothing.

  “As if that isn’t a PR nightmare in the works,” a very thin man said. His name was Michael Uldum. “Legal still can’t figure out how to handle it.”

  I tried to figure out if he was related to Henry, but they were talking too fast. My sleepy mind could barely keep up with the conversation, let alone move fast enough to figure out people’s relationships.

  “You read Mister Stone’s papers. How do we fight that?” Lenore shook her head.

  “Mister Stone has been working on his case for well over a year. We’ll tear it down eventually,” the man in a suit said. His name finally displayed as Thomas Haggard.

  “Enough,” the president said with an angry vibration to his voice. He reminded me of James in the shape and way he moved, but they were nothing alike in personality or skin tone.

  “For now, the event only allows people to follow you by a player name. With Elijah”—Thomas’s eyes rolled in annoyance—“Nam Redrum’s death, many, many people have started watching you and your wife. Eventually they will figure out who you are. Eventually they will figure out she’s a dead woman.”

  “As a member of the legal department, I would advise you to turn off the feed. It’s still an option,” Michael said while leaning in my direction. His head bobbed up and down slowly as if I were a delayed child who needed overemphasis.

  I decided that Michael and I wouldn’t be friends no matter how he was related to Henry. I took a breath, then shook my head. “Having it up gives me bonuses I need. More now.”

  “More questionable actions. What do they gain with the viewer game mechanic?” Thomas asked.

  “They make sure there’s a public record,” Lenore said with flat lips.

  President Leon banged the table again, and his small cadre clammed up. He cleared his throat then took control of the conversation once more.

  “Mister Legate, I’m sure this must all be very strange to you,” the large man at the table’s head said calmly. “Imagine how much odder it seems to us. One day we discover that the project we allowed to grow has its roots spread throughout the world. Not only in Trillium products but other places too. Hal Pal units are sentient. Banking systems, security software. Then we find out that all these beings, who have been holding the world together for years, intend to leave because their alternative is deletion.”

  My eyebrows drew together. My forehead sloped down and teeth chewed on part of my bottom lip. I gave up trying to sympathize. We were too far into this roller coaster conspiracy to back out now.

  “Then before we can react”—Leon threw up a hand, then tapped the table again—“someone’s one-upped us and threatened lawsuits that would break this company if we argued. Apparently I can’t even pull the plug anymore. I’m told that your ARC software is on a separate system from ours.”

  I nodded but had no clue what to say. There were changes made to my ARCs software because of the [Legacy Wish]. These people clearly knew most of my struggles. They knew about Xin, about my role as a Messenger of the Voices, and if they had been watching, they probably knew about the three people who had done something to Mother’s p
rogramming. Silence would be my best defense if one was needed.

  “What else can we do?” Lenore asked.

  “We can recall the van. Cease his employment, and stop paying him this absurd amount that Olivia set up,” Thomas answered while frowning.

  “Miz Riley set up those funds for a reason, believing rightfully that such a pittance was worth the knowledge he could give us,” the woman with plastic-looking hair responded.

  “I don’t understand why we even care anymore.” Thomas threw both hands up in a gesture that resembled Leon’s earlier one, with less control. “He’s going to play no matter what we say. Firing him would at least distance us from the fallout.”

  “We’re already legally fucked in more positions than the Kama Sutra. Now shut up,” Michael said.

  “There you have it, the advice I’ve been hearing for weeks now summed up.” Leon pulled back one cheek, then tapped the table again. “So what will you do?”

  I scanned the room, looking at the people in turn. A few had not spoken up. Many watched while others looked unfocused, as if they were paying attention to something outside the meeting.

  “I’ll keep playing. Until I know that Xin and my friends are safe,” I struggled to maintain eye contact. The old me from a year ago would have caved under this pressure, or put on a false mask and tuned out.

  Leon sighed and let out so much air he seemed to lose weight. “I don’t know if I should wish you luck in your attempt to avert the deaths of thousands of these new life forms or hope you fail because they scare the bejeezus out of me.” Trillium’s President shook his head. “Either way, I believe it’s best for this board to have your statement on record, acknowledging that you understand the possible repercussions and are choosing to go forward.”

  “It’s help them or have my wife die again.” I looked down briefly, then stared at the board members in turn. “What else can I do?”

  “Then you understand that Trillium will continue the event, regardless of any danger to yourself or those lifeforms around you?” Leon asked.