Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  The company discount had helped me afford a personal ARC for Beth. I also helped my father by chipping in on her college fund. The deal was that grades came first. Beth was taking advantage of the ARC’s time dilation to study.

  “I don’t actually use mine for much besides a few programs,” I admitted.

  “Why not? There’s so much you can do with them.”

  “I just—” Haven’t felt the need or desire? Haven’t felt right playing games in general? Felt like I was tainting a promise made years ago? “I recently won something from work. And it got me thinking.”

  “What did you win?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet—it’s on my home ARC—but I think it’s a copy of Continue Online.” My eyebrows lifted, and I gave a partial shrug.

  “Oh my god, Uncle, really? Are you finally going to play?” Beth was nearly hopping around the room.

  “If that’s what the prize is, sure. You know I’d never buy it for myself.”

  “Mom said the same thing. We were going to get you a copy for Christmas this year.”

  Christmas wasn’t too far away. It would have been a perfect present.

  “Is it really that good?” I asked.

  My niece flubbed over her words for a moment before righting herself.

  “Yes.” She managed to get a single word out before laughter overtook her. “You’ve never seen it in person?”

  “No. Only the online ads and a few reviews.” All my knowledge of the game came from working on people’s ARCs and the few videos I had watched in the van.

  “Do you have one of those Second Player helms?”

  “I do, I think. Hal normally makes sure we have at least one,” I said.

  “Get it, and meet me downstairs.”

  “If you say so, munchkin.”

  My niece was so excited that the nickname went by unremarked. I went out to the van and slid open the back. Hal Pal was on standby, but I could see the light signaling mild awareness.

  “Hal, be a Pal and check out one VRH Two for temporary personal use.” I felt clever for using the old commercial jingle from when Hal Pals were first released.

  Hal Pal blinked, then reached out one arm to undo the security locks on our panel of parts and plug-ins. Out came a full helmet that used to only be found on motorcycle riders. A burnished red line ran vertically as mild decoration.

  “Yes, User Legate. Please remember to file a feedback form upon return.” Hal Pal carefully handed over the device.

  Trillium and the ARC project both demanded feedback forms when employees used new equipment.

  I took the VRH Two and braced myself for the deceptive weight. The thing was heavy as a bowling ball, but once on and logged in, it would be strangely comfortable. The other reviewers stated they experienced no neck pain.

  I had only used it once, and that was a job to fix someone’s program. It was also one of the most awkward things my job had ever subjected me to. The client’s program hadn’t worked right, but only in a specific spot with a specific, ugh, movement. Turned out the program hadn’t been intended to bend that way. Part of me was convinced the guy got off on getting me to ride along.

  I tried not to shudder at the memory and trudged inside. My footsteps would drown out any other noises in the house. Soundproofing had become nearly standard for most modern houses. This one was from the late eighties and had probably missed some of the neater materials on the market.

  Beth was already sitting on the edge of her ARC. Her feet almost didn’t touch the floor. “It’s okay, Uncle Grant. You can’t hear anything from here.”

  “I’m sure that’s why she gave you the far bedroom.”

  “Only a few more years and I’ll be done with college, then I can move out.” Beth shrugged and tried to sound positive.

  I remembered moving out. It involved a lot of drinking and roommates who were questionable on a good day.

  Good times.

  “So how are we doing this?” I rolled the Second Player helm around and tried to remember how it was used. There—a plug to go into one of the ARC’s ports. From there we would have a wireless connection.

  “I’ll dive into the game. You can watch as a secondary,” she said.

  My brow crinkled in confusion. “I thought they were trying to be secretive about this stuff.”

  “On some things, the game’s super tight-lipped, but even Trillium can’t stop word-of-mouth and someone watching it directly. I mean, they could…” She rubbed her cheek and pursed her lips. “I guess they don’t care that much?”

  “Well, lucky me. I can see it and debate if I’m ever going to actually play.” I tried not to commit too much.

  “You better play, Uncle Grant!”

  “All right, all right. I don’t even know if that’s what I won from work. Let’s see it.”

  Beth smiled and lay down in the ARC. She had wristbands on each arm and one around each ankle. The key one was a band that went along the top part of her spine. It was kept close to the spinal column and could read nearly every signal that went down.

  I pointed at her ankles. “You’re using those?”

  “The wrist and feet?” She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

  “Yeah.” I hadn’t played a game that required them. “I’ve seen them for those exercise programs.”

  “Part of the program. Gives you some feedback. If you do something that exerts a lot in the game, you’ll feel it in real life.” Beth smiled.

  “Why on earth would you want that?” Bodily exercise while playing a game sounded painful.

  “Uncle Grant, I’m not this fit because I go to a gym all day.”

  I thought about it while Beth lay back and dialed in her machine. VRH Two, also known as a Second Player helm, plugged right into the middle panel on the ARC device. Slumping against Beth’s ARC would be slightly more comfortable than sitting on the floor. I slipped the Second Player helm over my head and tried not to think about the pudge that had built around my stomach. Maybe if I had invested in a better dance program this waistline would have lost a few inches.

  That sounded kind of attractive. Play a game, dance a little, work out in the process. I would need to dial back my reallife activities. Working a job like mine for so many hours would be rough if I was sore the entire day. Only Hal Pal’s constant heavy lifting would make this diabolical plot work.

  The Second Player helm wasn’t as good as full immersion. Smells and taste were hard to replicate with only the headset technology, so most of what I’d get was visual with a ghost of tactile sensation. There was a reason the Alternate Reality Capsule required five hundred pounds of hardware. Comfort was only about twenty percent.

  “Log me in.” Beth apparently preferred the vocal command over the physical interface I used.

  My visor went black, and moments later, Beth’s Atrium came into view. Everything she saw, I saw. It wasn’t like being myself in a game. This was me piggybacking on another person’s feed while still having my own mind.

  “Load Continue Character, delayed intro five,” she said.

  “Commands loaded,” the ARC program responded.

  I was thrown off by the voice her ARC used. The deep tones reminded me of someone from my childhood who used to do movies. The name was hard to place.

  I wasn’t too surprised when Beth’s eyes flicked over to a wall of posters with men on them or when she paused and studied the mirror. Her character didn’t look much different from her. The ears were slightly pointy, belying an elf or something similarly fantastic.

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Everything coming through okay, Uncle Grant?”

  “Yeah. Are you an elf?”

  “No, demon—half-demon, I think, technically. I was transformed from human to this after a long chain quest and reputation grinding.” Her answer was longer than expected.

  “Weird,” I said. A half-demon race of some sort might explain the very faint sunburn that lined her character’s skin. Beth, as a child, had
been the outdoorsy type. Though when I saw her at the door a few minutes ago it was pretty clear her tan had lapsed a lot.

  “What do you think?” She waved her arms and did a few basic stretches.

  I was stuck staring at the mirror, watching her. Staring at my niece for so long was really awkward. She scanned up and down the clothes. The top was fairly loose and flowing. The pants were almost cutoffs. I could see leather pads over her knees, shoulders, and elbows. Nothing here restricted her range of motion.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I said as she started another round of awkward warm ups while staring at herself.

  “Oh shit. Sorry.” Beth laughed. “Habit. Stretching helps me move easier once in the game.”

  “All right. I get that.” Like a baseball player doing practice swings to loosen their shoulders.

  “So Second Player will pick up nearly everything in-game. I tend to play in a partial immersion mode, so most of the extra stuff, like Guild chat and whispers is minimal,” she explained as one arm waved. Beth was flicking through screens and pressing options that said Off and On, though I didn’t have enough time to read them all.

  “There are guilds? And you can chat with them from anywhere?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “That seems to counter this realism claim.”

  “You can play with everything off if you want, and guess at your stats and health. There are all sorts of features. Pain levels, skill assists, even uhhh…” My niece’s voice drifted off.

  “What’s uhh…?” I joked.

  “Let’s just say some of the features are very real, and more than slightly adult.”

  “Say no more. Uncle Grant can do without you explaining how real interpersonal actions can get.” Never did I want to deal with that sort of issue. I remembered when my sister called me up and nearly broke down trying to handle my niece’s questions. Skinned knees and school projects were child’s play compared to the sex talk.

  “Some guys are, uhh…”

  “Beth.” I really didn’t want to hear her go on about this particular subject.

  “Sorry.”

  “Even if I wanted to do that sort of thing,”—and I hadn’t tried more than once since my fiancée—“I wouldn’t look for it in a game. So that aspect doesn’t interest me.”

  “All right. I only mention it because some players dress really provocatively.”

  “Why, Beth, I’m proud that you know such a complex word,” I said.

  She laughed, and I smiled. We were back on comfortable ground. It made sense why she would try to warn me though. If everything was as realistic as her character in the mirror, then that aspect would certainly get a lot of attention, and not only among teenage males. I tried to keep my sigh quiet.

  “I’ll head in. I think I left myself on autopilot in the city.”

  “Auto what?”

  Beth had wandered over to the Continue Online game. She picked up the book-sized representation from its shelf and tossed it at a wall, which activated the software. What had once been a smooth piece of digital plaster was now a doorway. That was actually a lot more interesting than how I loaded my simple dance program.

  “Autopilot. It’s a log-off feature. It allows your character to keep interacting with Arcadia while you’re out.”

  “Why would that matter?” I asked.

  “You get little bonuses and reputation points. Plus for people who have school, like me, or work, like you, we can’t be online all day every day. Though some people are crazy about it. You get more points personally than autopilot will give you.” She said all that as if talking to herself while in a virtual world. Sometimes the ARC device made things seem really odd.

  “That’s new,” I said.

  “Yep!” She put one hand on the doorway and pressed heavily into the wall. “Display in-game.”

  The side of the wall lit up and showed her character sitting on a park bench. It wore the same clothes Beth had on now and was weaving a series of strings together.

  “Huh?” I didn’t know what to expect, but seeing a virtual version of Beth sitting calmly would never have made the list.

  “The computer AI will try to get your avatar to a neutral point once you’re logged into the Atrium. That way there’s not any confusion,” my niece answered.

  That didn’t clear up my confusion. I made a few noises and kept watching. This was a wealth of information that wasn’t on any website I had seen. Experiencing it first hand, Second Headset, was useful. Even if I didn’t get a copy of Continue Online from work, I might pick up a copy later.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure. This stuff is useful, but I haven’t seen the actual game,” I said.

  “Right.”

  She leapt through the doorway and the ground fell away. Below, a globe similar to Earth rapidly approached.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoooooooooooaaaa.” I did not like the free-fall feeling. My heart rate sped up. My hands clenched in panic, and I tried to reassure myself that the bedroom floor was still present.

  “Gets you racing, doesn’t it?” Beth yelled against the wind, miles up as the ground grew closer and closer.

  “Don’t panic!” Images of impending doom drove cross my brain. Choices range from burning up in the atmosphere, landing and becoming a pile of mush, or a belly flop to end all belly flops.

  We got closer. Beth was surveying the area for me, adjusting the in-game vision. She looked over to the ocean.

  “You see it?” The wind whipped by and ruffled her clothes. “I keep telling my friends there’s something in the water out there! It’s huge!”

  Her vision showed a giant ocean between continents. For a moment, it seemed as if giant waves surged out of nowhere. A portion of water was darker than the others and almost seemed to crawl.

  “That’s…”

  “It’s awesome! I’ll get the skills to go out there before the end of college!” she shouted with a confidence only teenagers could feel.

  I was going to say frightening.

  “Look up there!”

  Beth flipped around while falling.

  I was busy watching the approaching ground out of the helmet’s peripheral vision. She seemed oblivious to my fears of falling from such a height.

  “Is that…?” I honed in on the giant object floating above us.

  “A moon? Yep! Like the colonies! I bet we can explore it too! There’s an entire guild dedicated to reaching it!”

  That was admittedly neater than a giant whatever-that-was in the ocean.

  “Does it always take this long to get into the game?” I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I felt carpet beneath my fingers and a dresser in the way of my feet. Visually, everything felt insane with Beth’s dive from the heavens.

  “Nope! We’re doing a longer log-in for you!”

  The air changed. Sounds were different. Beth stayed lying backward. I actually liked looking at the moon—it was far more calming than an approaching planet.

  “Can you do this every time?” A moon without buildings on it seemed almost innocent. It reminded me of childhood. I had taken the natural moon for granted.

  “Yep! Well, I can. It’s from a trait!” Her shouts were muffled by the wind.

  I might be sold already.

  “Landddinnnggg!” The drop felt like hitting the softest, fluffiest bed ever known. Beth’s blinking created pauses in our visual connection. I blinked a few times myself and took steadying breaths.

  “Huh. Rope,” she said.

  Multiple messages popped into view and Beth looked at them one by one. They were status updates on her time in autopilot.

  Losses

  Resource: 7 Gold, 8 Silver, 54 Copper

  “What the?” I said. These messages looked very out of place, floating like modern holograms in a fantasy world. I knew it was fantasy because of the commercial and few videos online. If that wasn’t a clue, the tip of a sword on Beth’s waist or people walking around old houses on cobblestone roads might b
e a clue.

  Gains

  Item: 20’ Rope – Spider Silk (Common)

  Item(s): Multiple low-level herbs

  Item(s): Two meal vouchers

  Fan base has increased (Now: 42)

  +40 [Fame] (Partial credit due to autopilot)

  “Sorry, they’re basic-looking compared to everything else. I can’t keep the game world separate without something obvious,” my niece said.

  I nodded. The rest of the world was so visually stunning that these notification windows felt out of place. Almost like laughing in the face of realism.

  Away Time

  2 Days, 14 Hours, 34 Minutes

  “There’re other interface methods. One of my friends from high school has all of his pop up on a scroll he carries around. He’s super into the realism aspect and pretends he can only look at his stats once a week.” Beth was chewing her lip. It was the same action my sister and I performed when thinking.

  “That’s…”

  “Neat? You always say neat,” she responded.

  “If you say so, munchkin.” My tone sounded resigned. I did say neat a lot.

  “Uncle Grant…”

  “What else is there? Are those event notices? Like you did something while offline?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The autopilot records what kind of player you are and acts accordingly. Here’s a funny one.” Beth swung our combined vision over to one of the notices floating nearby.

  Event!

  Musical Mess

  During your music recital, things didn’t go as planned. When it came time for the solo, you made no less than three mistakes. As a result, you went on an eating binge and grew even more depressed while poking at your belly and frowning. Furthermore, someone at the main square recognized you as the girl ‘whose voice cracked’ during your big solo. (See [Fame] gains)

  You’ve spent the last two hours putting your handcraft and sewing skills to good use by making a rope to hang yourself with.

  “Beth.” I tried not to sound too worried by what had been displayed. Funny wasn’t the right word to describe those words.

  “Son of a bitch!” she swore as if remembering something.

  “Should we talk about that event notice?”

  “What? No, I missed the choir recital. It’s not that serious. I could have gained a lot of points toward my singing abilities though.”