“Do you know what those are?” Beth asked me one day. “Everyone keeps finding them. Some think it’s tied to the event.”
“It is,” I said, putting the latest piece of folded paper into my treasure trove of them. Nona had gathered thousands.
Some papers were yellowed from age. Others were dirty. They formed a timeline that made me worry for Xin. For the first time in months, I seriously worried and questioned what was happening. Was she hurting out there, sending out cries for help? Had [World Eater]s sneaked into their refuge? How long had my wife been throwing them down here?
Down wasn’t the right word for our situation, but it was the only one that fit. I looked off toward the west and thought of the beam of light she had been dragged up. Somewhere near there was the keyhole. Xin sat on the other side of a doorway, generating an endless stream of paper airplanes. At least I hoped she did. If this didn’t work, then I would be truly lost.
“Faith,” I muttered to myself one day. “I need to have faith that this will work.” Holding myself aloft from the urgency proved harder and harder. I was so close.
“What’s wrong?” Liz asked, catching up to us. She huffed heavily but tried to stay logged on. Her sacrifice of playing inside a digital reality for so long wasn’t lost on me.
“These are from Xin.” I held out a dozen plans. “She’s trying to reach me. At least, I believe so. I hope so.”
My lip shook. It was much easier to watch all this from the realm above. Shaking back and forth helped. Playing music and recalling the steps for a waltz got me into a positive space. Not distant, but looking forward to reuniting with Xin. Emotional detachment was my life before Continue Online, not after. Even those like me, who were constructed from memories, couldn’t take the road not traveled.
“It’ll be okay, little brother,” Liz said quietly. “We’ll get your stupid tower built and make things right. Right?”
I nodded, then kept moving. Our path wound all around the globe before we finally arrived at [Haven Valley].
[Haven Valley] was a flatland. Tons of other parts of Continue Online had reverted, but this place looked desolate. As if the town didn’t exist back during release. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it hadn’t existed until William Carver settled down somewhere to start his project.
The call had gone out to [Valhalla Knights], along with plenty of other guilds. Hundreds of people were waiting, ready to work on a project they knew nothing about, especially if it would solve this event to bring life to their game world. They wanted to help, and more arrived every hour.
One player stood to the side. His face dripped with sweat and both arms managed to stay straight out. His fingers curled tightly and his knuckles were turning blue. In front of him was a small purple portal that Travelers were stepping out of.
I grabbed chalk and sticks, then outlined where the tower’s base would go. Players, some who were foremen in real life, organized crews to work on different parts of the building. Foundation, support beams, materials, all of it mattered to them. I only cared about the size and location.
“We need to get up there, at least three hundred feet.” My hand pointed toward a spot up above. The small outline of a keyhole could be seen against white clouds. Carver’s quartet of [Legacy Wish] bearers could probably see it too.
“Twenty stories then, maybe. It’ll be difficult to do it with classical materials. Buildings just weren’t designed to go that high,” the foreman said while squinting. His nose wrinkled as he waved to other people.
“I…” Ideas occurred to me and made me pause. “I have a spell that should make the material sturdy afterward. It’s just a matter of laying down the foundation. I can’t help with that; my quest won’t let me.”
The choice to build this tower had to be theirs. Those were the rules laid down by Mother. Player, people from the real world, needed to make the gesture, and Voices were only allowed to enforce the decisions made. We provided clues, hunts, breadcrumbs, and occasionally building sites.
“Why here?” the thin foreman asked. He wore a white helmet that was rounded on the top.
“It has to be here. Here is where the first beam was. Here is where the return platform needs to be,” I answered without looking over.
The man wandered off and left me staring upward. Players milled around in huge numbers. Orders were shouted back and forth. My mind sat a million miles away as I stared at the keyhole that hopefully held all the answers. My [Altered Matrix] weighed heavily in the toga’s folds.
“Fifty thousand gold and six epic items. That’s my final offer,” a new voice said. “For that much, I’ll work like no one else in this entire crew.”
I laughed without even needing to see who spoke. At some point, the sun had gone down and Requiem Mass had arrived. The boy never missed a chance to obtain gold.
“Honestly, you’re getting a good deal,” the young man pressed. “I’m easily worth one hundred thousand and three legendaries.”
“How about a Rank Twenty-Five demon companion?” I told the player.
There was a brief pause, then Requiem said, “You have those just laying around? I deserve three, but I’ll settle for two.”
Some Locals had survived the purge in pieces. Their lives were half of what they had been before. Wraith, the [Greater Demon], had been one of the lost data chunks recovered by Nona and put into storage. Entire swaths of his life were missing, to the point where he didn’t recognize me or anyone else. He mumbled about family but knew nothing beyond the search for someone.
My hand dug into the toga for a package of round spheres similar to what Phil had turned into. I casually slid one over my fingers. The marble rolled around, then flashed bright gold. A puff of sulfur-smelling smoke curled outward, and as it faded, a figure appeared.
“Wraith, this is Requiem,” I said to the new figure.
“Your soul smells greedy,” Wraith said immediately, judging the teen and glaring. His voice no longer sounded as dark but instead cracked with late puberty.
Requiem didn’t look convinced. His head turned to me. “That’s not Wraith. Wraith followed you and died to the World Eaters. I watched it from the shore. He died.”
It didn’t surprise me that the young man had been watching us from somewhere else. The Traveler certainly knew how to get around quickly, and his black clothes probably made it easy to hide from regular monsters.
“I think you two can help each other, and my rule for binding you is very simple.”
I turned to look at them together. Wraith had lost a lot of size after my efforts to put him together. He no longer towered at nine feet of terror-inspiring meanness. Instead, he looked like a sixteen-year-old boy full of arrogance and cute horns.
“I’m listening,” Wraith said.
“Requiem?” I raised an eyebrow at the teen.
The boy’s lips pursed in thought. His fingers were clearly doing calculations. I put my own hand out and closed it over the teen’s to stop him from getting lost in a pointless scheme.
“Take care of each other. Wraith will do anything for family, and you need someone in your life.” I sighed. The young boy had no parents of note. He was one of many loose ends to be helped, if he would accept it. “The bond I’m suggesting is one of family. Treat each other well, and accept if you want.”
Both the Local and Traveler got messages I’d prearranged. It had been easier to set them up while I was above and not in in the Hermes avatar.
Both paused to consider, but surprisingly, Requiem pressed Accept first.
He said, “Forty thousand for the labor then.”
I laughed, then waved the pair away. They both left, but days later, he and the demon were hard at work, moving wooden beams around. Upon that meeting, Requiem nodded at me but made no mention of being paid. He simply worked hard and spent his breaks with Wraith, talking about nothing at all. The change in his demeanor was impressive.
Days marched on. As we finished the bottom floor, I started walking laps around i
t. The construction was detailed but dull. Pieces were put together, but they still had bolts and sharp corners. Wood jutted out, and brick had to be plastered together with mortar.
My hand ran along the edge, and I concentrated on bringing all the separate pieces together. Two bricks clinked, then became one. Ooze dripped off the side, and what it represented in programming language was beyond me.
“What’s going?” Awesome Jr. asked from above. His forehead glistened with sweat.
My head shook. Part of my mind had shut off in order to let whatever was happening progress forward. More people gathered. Their bodies dimmed as my eyesight blurred. Two more pieces came together, and soon entire chunks of the first floor were whole.
“Hey, Hermes! Do you need help?” someone shouted in sharp words.
I found enough spare attention to yell back, “No!”
Not all pieces went together perfectly, but a lot did. I walked around again, letting inhuman instinct guide me. One entire panel turned into a whole piece that shimmered with gold.
This wasn’t the old me magically accessing some spell; this was digital me syncing up bits of code into a whole. I knew but didn’t understand on a conscious level.
The same thing happened at every single floor. Players constructed. They gathered materials from all over [Arcadia], then brought them back and started crafting. The floors went on. First one, then two, until a week later we’d reached ten floors and started losing steam.
“How much farther? I can’t keep calling out from work.” Liz sat on her haunches, huffing.
We had been at this project for over a month of real time. Building a tower to the heavens wasn’t a quick task.
During downtime, Travelers would sit out of the sun and let their characters recover. A large shelter had been built below, simple brick with slats of metal across the top. It did little to stop the heat but did manage to reduce sunburn. We were all virtual, but the ARC still provided feedback of real damage if people got too red.
Liz and I sat at the farthest edge of shade and looked up. A giant keyhole hung in the air above. In my mind, I saw shimmers of what the building needed to be. We were halfway, then an arch would be placed on one side, functioning like a door frame. The keyhole would end up right in the middle.
“We’re making good progress.” I tried to sound positive. It felt so close, and so far away. I hadn’t logged out in days and had no clue what was going on back in reality.
“Yeah?” HotPants arrived with two huge backpacks of goods. She flopped them down to one side of our shaded spot, then collapsed out of the sun.
“Hello, Angry Rear,” Nia Eve said. She brought water to all of us.
“Hey, Drifty One,” the woman responded.
My sister stared at them, then shook her head. Apparently, at some point, Nia Eve had unleashed a speech about name meanings.
We sat there relaxing and letting the weather cool down. Once high noon passed, we would get back out to the building and work on the next floor.
“I don’t remember this place.” Phil, one of the people I’d brought down with me, looked lost. He kept gazing toward the south in search of something familiar.
“It’ll be okay, Phil. Soon we should be able to find all your friends. The littles you helped save, remember?”
“I couldn’t help Emily,” he lamented.
Phil found focusing harder than Wraith did. He didn’t have the strength or attention span. Frequently throughout the day, the young man dropped everything, then gazed off into space.
“But you’ve been a great help to us. When we get done, your name and everyone else’s will be spoken across the world. If we succeed, you’ll have brought them all back to their homes,” I said.
We were on the right track, but it felt as though the pieces weren’t connecting as they should be. The building should have been one solid and complete piece. I knew that, but I couldn’t get all the materials to connect together right. Something was missing.
We kept building. Fifteen floors, then eighteen, and finally upon the twentieth floor, we started making a flattened roof. Carriages hung off the side for people to assemble parts and nail pieces together. The wind blew frequently, shaking their rickety devices.
I went over every single inch of the top platform twice, then I asked for people to drag up bricks thicker than my arms. They took hours to make it up and down the stairs, while others tried to use a pulley system. This last part was for me to complete.
“Are you going to be okay?” Liz asked when I was ready to start.
I nodded.
“We’re staying,” Liz declared abruptly.
A small smile found its way to my face, then I nodded again.
Stacking the bricks was easier than I’d expected. They left my hand and floated into position faster than some of the construction workers had managed. Even those who used [Lithium] to assist in crafting would have been hard-pressed to compete.
Each one found its position. Once they were assembled, I checked the keyhole. It was dull and intangible. Poking the [Altered Matrix] key toward it provided no changes. We weren’t completely ready yet.
I took a deep breath, then started the same process upon the arch. [Anchor] let me climb up the side like a spider. One hand brushed over every single surface while the other hung on. Each slow attempt took a trickle of power as a Voice, but not enough to unbalance the world. The rules could be stretched slightly; the Voice of Balance was gone.
Finally, the doorway, easily a dozen times larger than any normal passage, was complete.
“Is that it?” Beth asked.
I turned to see her and a dozen other people standing on the far side of the platform. They looked tired. Bags hung under some players’ eyes. Others outright lay sideways on the roof.
“I think so,” I said.
The tower shuddered. I tried to turn my thoughts toward stabilizing against the sudden shift. Something rumbled the earth. Dirt shifted and shook as cracks formed along the ground. Our virtual world was trying to reject the device built. It didn’t fit right into the coding, but how I knew that was beyond me.
“No, no,” I mumbled.
People were yelling at each other. Some pointed overhead. I had no idea at what—all that mattered was the platform under my hands. My fingertips brushed across the wood, rapidly turning the smoothed pieces into a cohesive whole.
We were so close. I went over the top platform once again and worked to smooth out budding cracks. I felt as if we were in a race, my sleeping mind’s merger of the building against Continue Online’s impending denial.
Everything threatened to tilt. Twenty floors rumbling sideways as my mind felt the ground below, the sky above, and our entire foundation going to one side.
“No!” I screamed and the air rippled outward. “No, goddammit! NO!”
We were close. I could feel it. The keyhole was there. I ran to the platform edge and tried to reach out. Our crafted tower rumbled again, and the floor cracked. That couldn’t be allowed.
My arms reached wide to grasp onto the edges of our platform. My mind bent toward once again assembling bits of code, but larger amounts than before and with far less subtly. The virtual world disagreed while the automated programs acting as Balance tried to enforce their role.
An unimaginable weight pressed down upon me. It flattened my body, pressed air from my lungs, numbed my toes, and put pressure upon my skull. I looked up and saw the hand. The giant hand of a huge robot had appeared and reached down. Its shoulder was lost somewhere in a swirl of clouds.
“No!” I yelled again.
Beth said something, but her words didn’t register. Liz yelled at me. This wouldn’t end in death—her argument was invalid, whatever it was. Failure, however, loomed.
Fingers spread wide, I raised both hands. Weapons appeared, but they would do no good against a function of the world. I dropped them and put my hands down, into the building. They sank in, and chills crawled up my arms.
S
omething pulled desperately at the building. It was like being four and trying to keep toys away from my dad. I took a breath and plunged myself further in, grasping at the edges of an object that couldn’t possibly fit, but at the same time, it did.
Desperation and insanity went hand in hand. I sorted rapidly through memories in hopes of finding an answer. Two different pieces surfaced. James had said something to me, in those final days. If I had to be both a person and a purpose, what would I be?
Nia had said it herself—Gift the Gate. She’d called me it over and over. Hermes the Messenger didn’t matter. Hermes guardian of the border didn’t matter. Those were names for the in-game character, but they weren’t me. I was Grant Legate.
“I am Grant, I am the Voice of the Gate. I am Grant, I am the Voice of the Gate,” I muttered over and over and prayed that it would work like everything else. Thought became action, and action was done by rewriting code toward a purpose.
Nearby, people’s feet were visible. Nia’s dainty form swung something that rang in my ears. My sister and niece were fighting, even though Liz had no clue what she was doing. Awesome Jr., along with the quartet, laid into their enemy.
“It’s not working,” the teen leader shouted.
Information flashed in front of me briefly. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. Two months ago, Awesome Jr. had turned twenty.
The lapse in concentration cost me. My form lifted slightly, and I struggled to pull myself back toward the building. Roots of the foundation were being pulled upward. I focused upon welding the construct together. This tower to the land of [Arcadia], and myself to the building.
“This is mine!” I shouted at the pressure pulling me up. “You won’t take this away!”
This was it. If I were to have a purpose in life, it would be making this gate work. If nothing else, then this.
I was arguing with a program that had no personality. Pissing against the wind would have been more effective. Still, I hung on. My fingertips kept their joints locked tightly. My knuckles were white from strain somehow, despite being buried in the building’s material. Pressure crushed my ribs together until bones cracked. The wind above howled as people below screamed.
Continue Online (Part 5, Together) Page 41