Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  There had been a skills window and another one with points going toward various character statistics. I barely saw an [Endurance] bonus go up little before she shoved it away.

  “And this thing said you tried to hang yourself. Doesn’t autopilot act like you play?” I tried to skirt the issue but still get an answer.

  “My character did that, not me! I was away.” Her vision went downward as the rope—I guessed the twenty feet of spider silk—went into a backpack she had swung off from behind her. “If it’d been me for real, I would have aced that event.”

  “So you don’t play like a depressed, emotionally unstable teenager? That was all the autopilot?” Just how dense was Uncle Grant in her world?

  “Yeah. It kind of reads into things…” A few other boxes appeared on her screen, and she flicked them off into oblivion. “Let’s see…”

  “Can you walk around?” I didn’t really even know how to approach that suicide message. Those situations should be passed to my sister. Maybe it was serious, or maybe it was her being a bit crazy in-game.

  “Sure. Oh, I know! I’ll show you the starter area. It should be fairly empty.”

  “I thought they were always full,” I said.

  “Maybe in other games. Continue only lets you have one character. But it’s cool because you can learn whatever skills you want to,” Beth responded happily.

  “Like that singing one?” The two in the message—handcraft and sewing—were other probable professions. Each one likely went with the type of action being performed. At least the naming methodology for skills was straight forward.

  “Yep!” Beth said while running down a seemingly random path.

  She dodged through tons of people talking casually. Others were looking at shelves of items in stalls. Some were lying down and chatting away. My face felt cool. A gust of wind pelted against one side, then the other as we shifted around objects in our path.

  “How do you know where you’re going?” I asked.

  “Memory!”

  We kept right on cruising through the town. There was a slight jarring sensation as she pounded across the cobblestone.

  “No map? Or some sort of navigation?” I felt confused. At least my voice wasn’t interrupted by the rush of movement.

  “Nothing I own. They’re all player-made,” Beth responded.

  “That’s weird.”

  In the games of my youth, everything had a map. Except a few professed hardcore ones that were more puzzlers than anything else. For those games, players did some exploration. Most of it was figuring out which area was safe and slowly building up to the harder zones. Maybe this was the same.

  There had been a few games whose entire purpose seemed to be trapping and killing the player. Getting through to the other side was a test of sanity.

  Truth be told, everything looked real enough to blow me away. The touch feedback wasn’t quite there thanks to the Second Player helm, but Continue Online’s visuals were amazing. Especially considering Beth wasn’t moving slowly; she darted around with an incredible speed.

  “What class moves like this?” I asked.

  “There are no classes, Uncle. You play however you want. Skills are unlocked based on what you demonstrate and focus on. Instead, you’re ranked along a Path that is based on your skills.” Beth did a spin around two people that made me feel dizzy. My dance program taught me fancy moves but they didn’t involve real people moving along unpredictable paths.

  “Paths?”

  “I’ll probably have to cut short some of the explanations. There’s a safety when doing Second Player mode that will penalize me.”

  “So the machine’s listening to you talk to me?” I said.

  “Yep. So you can ask me outside of the game, but I’ll probably be in here a while once I’ve shown you some stuff.” Beth sounded amused, but I couldn’t see her expression with a Second Player helm. The equipment put me in a first-person view.

  “On a school night?” It was Tuesday. Tuesdays still were school nights, right? I didn’t really pay attention to what classes Beth was taking.

  “Time runs fast inside. There’s a compression rate of four-to-one. One minute out there is four in here. I load up my homework while traveling.” She managed to talk almost naturally while running full-bore.

  I could feel the hint of effort being put into her movements. Legs touching down, each stride almost a leap. Gazelles would lunge the same way from location to location. Finally, barely short of breath, she came upon a nearly empty square.

  “That’s far too convenient,” I said.

  Being able to do homework in here was unfair. Even my dance program didn’t compress things to such an insane level. What happened after a year of this—or three or four? Mentally, a person would have lived a decade, and real life would have only passed two years and change. Such a concept was unbelievable. Of course, so were printed cars that drove themselves.

  “Welcome to the future, Uncle Grant.”

  I heard the noise before the visual input really registered. Beth was looking, so I was looking, but the moment took a minute to click.

  Once it did, my jaw dropped. We were on a pavilion nearly midway up a roaring half-circle waterfall. The top of the waterfall was so high up that it covered the dais with mist. Water kept right on rushing down toward a destination I couldn’t make out.

  “Whoa.”

  “Like it?” She walked closer to the edge and looked up and down.

  “I love it.” This was different, yet as breathtaking as the moon shots. There was an awe-inspiring serenity to her surroundings. Noise from the flow drowned out nearly everything else, forcing my attention to one spot.

  “All the starting areas I’ve been to are incredible.”

  “Where does that cliff go?” I questioned.

  “Down a lonnnnnnng way. The bottom is a higher-level zone. There’s a dungeon down there I’m going to challenge with a friend. The top is a bit closer to intro ranks.” Beth laughed and waved at some of the other people sitting around.

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Oh, first thing I did when I logged on was jump off that cliff at least a dozen times!” She was leaning over the edge and yelling to be heard. Thankfully her sound was all locked within the ARC or my sister would probably have been breaking down the door.

  “Like the free-fall entrance?”

  “Best rush ever!” Beth answered.

  “There were no penalties?”

  “Nah. There’s nothing like that until you’ve got your first rank. After that, things can get harsh.” She backed away from the edge and sat on a bench.

  The environment was much quieter farther away from the waterfall. People were passing through, going about what seemed like routine tasks. One woman held buckets of food. Another woman was trying to convince some squat mule with extra horns to drag a cart. The thing’s abnormally rounded ears kept twitching toward the water.

  “If I died now, I’d have to deal with all sorts of stuff,” Beth said. “My Path Ranks are all over the board.”

  “That’s… harsh?”

  “Different people play the game different ways. Some people I know rushed their combat skills. Others couldn’t handle the monsters, so they stuck with trade skills. Everyone finds a pace they like.”

  “This is nice though.”

  “You can watch it for a while if you want. I’ll leave the feed on for you while I take care of some homework,” Beth offered.

  I grunted a positive reply after realizing Beth couldn’t see me nod. For a long time, I stared at the waterfall, admiring the mist. To my side was enough clear space for couples to dance. Music would have been perfect. Tears slowly invaded my vision, though not from Beth’s feedback. My fiancée would have loved it here. She had been the adventurous one, and this world would have been perfect.

  Session Three — Christmas in July

  “Grant. You all right?”

  Metallic rapping woke me with a snort. I star
ted to mumble my reply.

  “Huh? What? No. It’s all sis’s idea. I swear.”

  My reaction was half coherent as I tried to string together where I was. Aches and pains crawled up my spine from where I had fallen asleep.

  “Sure it is, Grant. Still trying to blame me. Mom never believed you then, and she won’t believe you now,” my sister said with a glare that I could only feel.

  “You’re the one who tried to set the cat on fire.”

  “That. Fucking. Cat tore up my best dress.” Her finger jabbed my still-sitting form.

  “Sniffles did no such thing.” This heavy helmet made conversing feel outright silly. I grabbed at both sides and lifted it away. After being logged into Continue, the real world felt colorless and dull.

  “Oh, this place.” I squinted upward at my sister. “Hi, Liz.”

  Both my sister and her daughter were named Elizabeth. Neither one went by it. Liz had darker hair like I did, but Beth’s was a lighter brown.

  “You have fun in there?”

  “It was neat.”

  “I’ll bet. Beth doesn’t know it, but I sneak down and watch sometimes. That girl has packed more action into her life than either of us.” Her head shook slowly, slipping her shoulder-length hair about.

  “She’s a regular thrill-seeker.”

  “You can see it now. She’s crawling around in a dungeon with that boy.” Liz waved over the ARC’s external screen to peek in on the action. That sort of thing was only possible with parental controls. Beth may technically be the adult, but Liz still took care of her in nearly every way.

  “Bet she’ll come screaming out of there starving again, grab a plate of food, and crawl back inside.” Liz mimed extreme hunger by crossing her arms above her belly.

  “She’s still doing okay with her classes, right?”

  “Oh sure. Her grades are the only thing I have to hold over her. She keeps them up and I can’t object to her playing. Even if I don’t like that… boy.”

  I followed her poking finger to the ARC display. I moved the Second Player helm out of my way so I could lean in closer.

  “Is that a mage?”

  I squinted at the tiny projection showing what my niece was doing in-game. The display showed some weird cat-guy dodging around the screen while Beth’s character chanted a whole number of things with flashy effects.

  “I don’t know. I guess? She’s always doing something with Sir Fuzzy over there. Seems like a waste of time to me.”

  “She’s doing a music thing too.” I remembered the event that Beth had mentioned. The one she missed while being logged out and doing whatever it was teenage girls did when they weren’t monster-slaying.

  “I figured there was something. She’s been humming to herself half the time when she’s not plugged in. Thank god for time restrictions or I’d never see her.”

  I shook my head slowly. ARC was addictive. Adults at least had to earn money and pay bills to stay online. Kids with unlimited access would be even worse. My sister was smart enough to keep the restrictions active.

  Thank goodness food inside the machine wasn’t real. Stuff could go down a virtual gullet all day and never remove actual hunger.

  “So you going to play?” Liz was scowling at the visual display. She jerked to the side and muttered as a charging animal went by. Moments later, the fuzzy form of whatever cat-man Beth had hooked up with flew in and tackled the beast.

  “If I won what I think I did, sure.”

  “But you’d never buy it for yourself.” My sister shook her head and frowned.

  “You know me. I don’t really buy myself things. Not since…”

  “Right. She-who-shall-not-be-named. How were things with Elane? Didn’t you date her for a while?”

  Elane had been a bad idea by Liz. I hadn’t been emotionally stable and was barely into my twelve step program. Elane had her own issues. Putting us together had been explosive all around.

  “We didn’t work out,” I said.

  Liz looked at me and frowned by chewing at her lip. That was a habit she’d had since childhood. Normally it meant she was trying not to say something on the tip of her tongue.

  I turned the conversation away from my woes and back to Liz. “How about you and Jake? He only rated a fine on the performance meter.”

  She was wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, which meant there would be no further social interaction with people outside the family.

  “We won’t work out.”

  There was no heartbreak in her tone. I hadn’t even had a chance to harass the guy with a baseball bat.

  “Already?”

  “Mind your business, little brother,” she said.

  “Uh huh.” Turnabout was never fair play, per the sibling rule book. As the slightly younger brother, I would never win. Still, it felt nice to talk to someone outside of work.

  “You headed home soon?”

  “I should.” I flicked my wrist and looked at the default time display. We had been logged in for two hours. With the perception dilation inside, Beth had been playing for at least eight. Time enough for sunset to start in the real world.

  “Come on then—a coffee before you go. We can chat about our terrible love lives.” Liz gestured toward the stairs.

  “I’m always up for a good pity party with family.”

  That was a lie. My father was made of stone and had little sympathy. Mom was equally flustered by emotional upheaval and spouted the same five lines whenever confronted.

  I switched the headset to my other arm and gestured to the ARC.

  “Has she done anything…” Word choice was paramount. Harassing my sister was one thing, but broaching family issues was another. “To worry you, in the game or real life?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. Why?”

  We paused our escape from Beth’s room.

  “Here.”

  I looped back the ARC’s feed and tried not to feel like this action involved betraying my niece. Then again, we were, in theory, the adults and she was still growing up, even if she had turned eighteen last year. She had to be of legal age to play Continue, but that said nothing about her mentality. Moments later, I flickered across the event message, then zoomed in on the ARC display using parental controls and memory files.

  “Mh.” Liz showed reluctance to comment.

  “She said it’s the autopilot. I guess it takes over when Beth’s out here.” I tried not to downplay or act panicked. My sister had more than once suggested I mind my own business over the years.

  “Beth explained that to me.” My sister wasn’t stupid, but she didn’t know because she didn’t play the game. Liz tended to stick to television shows and artwork. As a result, there was only one ARC in the house.

  “I guess the computer takes note of how you play and acts that out while on autopilot,” I said.

  “I’ll keep an eye on it, but it’s probably nothing. Beth’s killed herself in-game more times than I can count, doing stupid daredevil moves. It’s probably related to that.” Liz chewed on the inside of her lip. It was a familiar action that I had mirrored many times since we were born.

  I could only shrug.

  “I’m only letting you know. If it becomes serious, and you want my help, I’m only a drive away.”

  “Okay, Grant.”

  “And I have…”—a tender subject, like all the others relating to my life a few years ago—“experience with this stuff.”

  “I remember. You forget who was there for the court appointments, who drove you to the meetings, who had to come over to your house and clean it up. I was there, so don’t act like I wasn’t.”

  She managed not to sound extremely upset, but as her twin, the annoyance was clear to me. Remembering the past made me cringe. My sister had helped me recover from the lowest point of my life.

  “You helped get me back on my feet.” She also helped me find a new job and suggested a place to live. Somewhere hours away from my old house and the memories, but close enough
that family was near. “And I love you for it, Liz, but I—”

  Jesus, I was tearing up.

  “I lived it. I don’t want her to ever be there. So if you need me—” My jaw clenched.

  “Shut up, Grant. I know.” My sister wasn’t good with raw emotions. Dad had taught us dedicated work ethics and how to clear a yard, but we weren’t raised to deal with anything like social interaction.

  “Right.” I tried to wipe my face with my free arm and brush away the mess my eyes had become. “How about that coffee?”

  “Come on.” Liz led the way, giving me time to get my game face back on.

  I made my way up the stairs to the kitchen, on the same floor as her bedroom and the front room.

  “One coffee, sugar, and single creamer. Cool it down a little,” Liz spoke into a device on the counter. Further down the line, a machine started and a whir of liquid poured into a cup. “Still going to your meetings?”

  “I check in with my sponsor weekly,” I said while nodding.

  “And the counselor?” Her worry was obvious even while we calmly sipped coffee.

  “Every two weeks.”

  “Think you’ll be able to do all that, work, and still play a game?”

  “My boss suggested I take some vacation time. I guess I’ve been working too hard. Even Hal Pal has voiced his concerns.” An AI voicing concern about me overworking made her laugh.

  “But you don’t actually know if you got this game.” Her tone turned vaguely questioning at the end.

  “Not really. It could be a virtual gopher for all I know. Or maybe a cat. I could name him Sniffles the Second.” My smirk would be clear through the coffee’s slight steam. “I’ll overfeed him and load up dresses for him to claw at.”

  “God, I hope it’s not a cat. I hate cats.” She closed her eyes in mock prayer.

  “It’s probably not a cat. Probably.” A cat might be amusing. I could link the virtual pet with Beth’s ARC and let it meow like crazy whenever Liz got too close.

  “Well, finish your coffee, and go find out.”

  Liz made me chuckle. She was barely older, a little taller, and as messed up as I was, but for different reasons. Being twins meant we knew better than most siblings where the emotional buttons were. I had been there when her husband ran off when Beth was only a year old.