My Atrium was an unholy mess. Counting to ten did not help reduce the unreasonable amount of anger that flooded through me. Someone, correction, something had been tearing up the home like a puppy being abandoned. The damage was amazing for something half the size of a cat.
“Get out here!”
Nothing.
“Don’t tell me you’re not listening!” I shouted into the doorway that was left open to Continue Online.
There was still no worthwhile response.
I kicked my way across the room. My friend the [Messenger’s Pet] was one hundred percent behind this nonsense. Books that represented my ARC’s programs lay all over the floor and showed marks on the edges from chewing. Glasses were broken and wrappers strewn about. There was a comfortable recliner that had been reduced to ribbons on the back. That wasn’t even one of my purchases.
“ARC!”
“Awaiting Input.” The machine responded.
“Reset Atrium, basic. No programs!” I said.
“Please confirm your order.”
“Reset my Atrium! Basic!” Lippy computer. It was no longer on the list of polish worthy devices. This ARC would get recycled as soon as the takeover occurred.
The world around me shimmered as items vanished from digital existence. Resetting things was aggravating. This destructive nonsense would force me to create a default template for easy cleanup.
“He’s not even in here,” I muttered. A basic Atrium layout was essentially empty white space. All that remained was the dark doorway that went to Continue Online.
Fine. I, Grant Legate, may be emotionally wobbly, stuck in the past, and guilty of idolizing a dead woman, but I wasn’t dense. Especially not in light of Continue forcing its presence upon my Atrium. My arms were crossed while I muttered curses under my breath. Both feet gave into the urge for exaggerated stomps. Mentally childish was added to the list of self-assessed faults.
The game world popped me right into the room of trials, or the space between as James called it. There was the familiar darkness lit up by a broken pillar and my Ultimate Edition book.
“Hello.” My head tilted back and scanned around the black room.
Nothing.
“Seriously?” I sighed and felt like everything was back to square one. Fine, if that’s how the Voices wanted to play it. An attempt to throw the book failed. The darn thing was too heavy to even lift up. A sense of amusement swept through the darkness. Of course they were out there, watching me.
“ARC!”
“Awaiting input.” The machine answered in the same absent-minded tone.
“Log…”
“There’s no need to be so hasty, Grant Legate.” James faded into existence a few feet away. Both the black man’s hands were folded over his pot belly. I had successfully bluffed the machine.
“Really, James?” I waved around. “Back to the book? Aren’t we passed that?”
“I’ll treat that as one question, and no, we will never truly move on. After all, it’s your story we’re talking about.”
I blinked and twisted my face up in puzzlement. That made no sense. Maybe it was vaguely neat perhaps? If the machine wanted to pretend all this was symbolism for a grandiose purpose, who was I to argue?
“My turn for a question, Grant Legate.” He said.
Today had been a long day, one that involved numerous special people. I had no patience for the name calling. Plus part of me was anxious to get right to my answers. One hand waved towards James for him to keep going.
“Why did you find opening the book aggravating?”
“Because all of you seem to pop in any time you want to, why-” I cut off my own question. “-it seems pointless to bother with it.”
“Ah. Very well, your turn.” He said.
“I’d rather have my answers, James, I did what you asked with Carver.” Every single WWCD instinct available to me had been put into play. My four weeks in his shoes had hopefully put a good ending on the matter.
“That you did.”
“My man Wild Willy loved it.” Leeroy faded in with one overly muscled arm resting on James’ shoulder. The black man looked annoyed and waved the other Voice away.
“That’s good to hear.” Part of me felt revitalized by Leeroy’s feedback. Once I learned that William Carver had been alive, the entire situation took on a personal tone. There was a palpable difference between a computer and a person. At least in terms of how I viewed it. I shook the other thoughts out of my head. That line of thinking would go in endless circles. If Washington couldn’t figure out an AI’s legal status, how could I?
“Is he okay?” I asked.
James tucked back a cheek, presenting a frown.
“That is a question I can’t answer personally.”
“Okay.” The word drew out slowly while thoughts whirled through. “What do we do then?”
“Open the book, Grant Legate.” James stepped back while still scowling from a nagging thought. I had to remind myself that he was a computer program putting on an act.
“Why?”
“You ask far too many questions. Remember our deal.” James went from distracted annoyance to directly focused displeasure. All of it aimed at me.
“You could ask questions you know.”
“I could, but I’m beginning to worry that you’re a completely open book.” Irritation touched the edge of his mouth and eyes.
“Merely tired of hiding things.” I sighed. My personality wasn’t always stable. Part of that was due to trauma from my fiancée’s passing. Attempting to kill myself twice hadn’t helped. Plus being forced to bare those wounds repetitively had dulled the normal offense someone might feel.
“I do have one question actually.” James mused. His disapproval had transformed into a sly smile.
“Fire away. I owe you a few.” Part of me felt tired and drained. Today had been a long day.
“What was her name?”
“Who?” Wariness flooded me.
“Your fiancée, the woman who died and left you in such a state.” That was actually a very good question. So good that I paused and debated how to answer. Her name wasn’t something I thought of, much like her passing.
“That’s not a good question, James.” As if the cosmos were mocking my bravado at being an open book, James poked the wound in a spot that had never fully healed.
“The fact that you’re protesting means it is a very good question.” Fine. James had a point. When was the last time I had even thought her name?
“Xin.” I said softly.
“Xin? That is not native to your tongue.” James had one eyebrow up and a hand half lifted in question.
“Her parents were from China.”
“Interesting.” He nodded briefly.
“Which part?” That made my head tilt in confusion.
“I hadn’t expected her to be of another race. My information shows that people in your world and ours avoid mixed relationships. You yourself said something similar when we first met.”
“Yeah.” Continue Online hadn’t exposed me to any racism at this point. Haven Valley was fairly quiet even though it straddled the border between two major political arenas. Maybe people left Carver out of it.
“It’s less common in our world though it got bad again after the last few wars.” Racial hatred had grown especially terrifying for the Chinese. They had been blamed for a lot of economic issues as trade between countries went through upheavals.
“Did this bother you?”
“God no. She was…” Was, that word came out of my mouth and tore at me. Three years and it was still impossible to let go. “-she was, uhh, a great person.”
“Xin Legate?” James questioned. I couldn’t even make eye contact with the man, but his tone felt softer.
“She hadn’t decided on if she would keep her name or, uhh, take mine.” Cultural practices differed. Xin, my fiancée, had been…
Talking to James was actually overwhelming. I had to get away from th
is entire line of thinking. All so my happy place wouldn’t be utterly destroyed. Her smile flashed through my brain for a moment. Everything drowned out in a swell of mental music which enticed a weak smile to my face. A waltz. She would love a dance.
I tried not to let past wounds creep up as one hand cracked the book’s cover. Light shone from out of the pages. Bright colors from all over the rainbow’s spectrum filled the room. ‘Congratulations!’ stood out from the page in popup fashion.
“What?” That shook the growing melancholy. I embraced bewilderment as it displaced my negative emotions.
“You did great, man!” Leeroy was back and clapping giant meaty fists together. Without warning, my body was flung sideways by something red skinned.
“Ahhh!” Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.
My legs were pinned, both arms covering my face and an extremely pleasurable sensation rushed through the length of my body. Her fingers had started tearing the poor virtual shirt to shreds. Soft hair dripped across my increasingly exposed skin. The Temptress was very much on top of me, unclothed, and growling in what was perhaps the most arousing manner to ever come into my life.
“No!” I protested with what mental capacity was left. Most of it was otherwise distracted.
“Yes!” She sat up and started rocking. My responses were perfectly natural, even here in a digital landscape.
“No?” My tone had shifted as my face flushed and pants grew tight.
“Yes!” She started tearing at my shirt again.
No one was coming to my rescue. James and Leeroy were both gone leaving behind the broken pillar and book. A colorful ‘Congratulations’ taunted me. I tried with increasing weakness to fight off the red skinned woman.
“No. Please. No. I hardly know you.” The Temptress was above me stretching in a way that had my mind going all sorts of wrong, or right. Depending on how I felt about biological programming. Even now, saying the word biological would be impossible.
“You’ll know me as well as any man if you say yes.” She had moved on without me. Teeth were tugging at the waistband of my avatar’s pants. I wasn’t sure if I should be thankful or upset that they weren’t coming off. Instead, my waistband seemed to be held on by an invisible force.
Her eyes appeared to be gesturing to the side at a window that had been invisible during my lust laden fog.
‘Yes’ and ‘no’ buttons floated below the quest text. Reaching for the no button was almost as hard as other unmentionables. Worse still, it ran away from my finger.
“Yes!” The Temptress growled around my waistband. The yes button got bigger.
I kept reaching for the no.
“Yes!” A wave of pleasure wracked my brain and caused a groan to escape my lips. The machine was not playing fair. Three years without sex and being jumped by an exotic beauty had nearly done me in. I tried to operate one hand and think of all the calming items from my teenage years. Knees flexed in an effort to force blood elsewhere.
“Yes!”
“No. Not like this.” I gasped and surged my hand towards the ‘no’ a final time. This one was successful.
The Temptress faded away with a groan of utter disappointment, clearly voicing the frustration she felt at being denied. My heart raced and thudded. According to the health tracker that went with my EXR-Seven bands, I was well past the cardio zone.
“He said no?” A little girl’s voice came through.
“Ha, ha, ha.” Somewhere in the background the Jester was laughing its mechanical laugh.
“Man, Grant Legate. You are definitely different from Wild Willy, aren’t you?” Leeroy was peering down at my recovering form. I blinked a few times and tried to figure out what had happened.
“You could say that.”
“He would have tried to hit that so hard that she would walk funny for days.” Leeroy grinned. I shuddered and tried to avoid thinking about the entire situation. Merely the hint of remembrance had kept life hard this entire time.
“What’s a matter, Grant Legate? A girl gotta buy you dinner first?” Leeroy was sort of an ass.
“If you wanted something to eat, all you had to do was ask.” Her lust ridden tones attacked my senses. The words were cheesy, but it didn’t stop my face from growing flushed again. Leeroy’s grinning face did not match the Temptress’ words in my ear. She wasn’t even in the room, but her presence flooded me again. I rolled over with a groan and pretended to bury my head in the sand.
“Need a hand?” Leeroy asked. His tone was amused. The Voice gave off a bro mentality that had taken up part of my college years. Not that I was a bookworm and hid in the library all day, I just couldn’t get behind their extreme actions sometimes.
“No. I need a minute.” I reached for the logout button.
Back in the real world I awoke with the same problem as the virtual one. A bulge stood out in a relatively forgotten part of my anatomy. At least out here it was easier to calm down. Had the computer tried to rape me? No, there had been a clear line of required consent.
“Fuck.” I gritted out the simple curse.
Questions remained to be answered. Reaching them entailed wading through Continue Online’s latest head game. What had James said, they didn’t rely on smoke and mirrors to entice people to play? Logging back in was best done before my nerve completely collapsed. Sitting outside the machine would lead to added uncertainty. Moments later I descended back into the ARC’s virtual world and made my way into Continue Online.
“Welcome back, Grant Legate.” James had returned to his passive expression. Judging everything with those eyes.
“Can we not do that again?”
“That is completely up to you and Mezo,” James’ expression broke with a slight smile. The Temptress’ name is Mezo? “I will not control the choices you make.”
I started to open my mouth again for an angry retort, but James raised a hand and cut me off.
“Why did you say no?” Right, we had a deal. His questions than mine. There had to be something resembling an even exchange.
“I don’t know.”
“Come now, Grant Legate. We’ve talked about this. Take the time you need and answer the question.”
“James, you let the man be and move things along. Tut. Taking all this time to sate your own needs without worrying about your charges. It’s disgraceful.” Maud was defending my inability to formulate an answer. Her hands and legs were surrounded by children who seemed to be looking in all directions with interest.
“I’ve upheld my nature throughout.” James went from amused to offended with a simple twist of his cheeks and turned down pitch.
“Past debts must be settled when they can be.” One of the children at Maud’s feet clamored for attention. She gave the small one a pat on the head while glaring at James.
“Ah. Yes, first thing’s first.” The male Voice admitted.
Part of me tried to gauge what sort of results punching a Voice might yield me. A bonus to Divine Attention for sure, maybe another hit to some stat in-game. I settled on overlooking the whole thing and waited for James to move us onward.
“For this part, I believe it’s best handled by someone else.” James turned stern and gained a few inches in height. His gaze cast around the dark room. “No one is to interfere.”
Thunder rolled as the black man scowled into the room. There were flashes of other faces that I associated with various Voices. Muttering, rush of noises, and finally a bright chime of light that shut all other actions down. James looked pleased with the last note.
“Which one of you was that?”
“Mother,” James said. “Your answers next, Grant Legate. Then perhaps we can speak of other things.”
I tucked back one side of my lips and raised an eyebrow. James shook his head in denial and faded away. From behind, where James had pointed, came a clicking that sounded absurdly familiar. Cane struck the ground in a slow step and footsteps huffed in the dark room.
“Do you prefer Grant or Mister Legate
?” It was like hearing a ghost speak. The pitch and tone belonged to a man I had posed as for nearly four weeks.
“Carver?” I turned around and saw the old man standing there. Both his hands clutched a blackened cane. My first thought was about how short he seemed from this perspective.
Session Nineteen – Answers, Mister Legate?
“I…” I had no clue where to start. William Carver was dead. It was a fact because I had been in his body when the old man passed.
“How…” Was he still alive?
Seconds, maybe minutes, passed as my brain tried to connect thoughts with repeated clinks of failure. Finally, it hit me. Right. This was a video game of sorts. Letting the realism of its denizens fool me was a major mistake. William Carver’s body was no more real than I was. We were both just a series of code being compiled by an advanced piece of machinery. The better question was…
“Are you the man, or the machine?” I asked.
William Carver gave a small smile before answering. “Good. You catch on quick and ask questions that matter.” He seemed much less grumpy than how I portrayed him.
After four weeks of trying to understand all the world’s Carverisms I better catch on quick. Still, awareness didn’t prevent a disconnection between being Carver and talking to Carver. Did identical twins feel like this? Thank goodness Liz and I weren’t that type.
“That’s not an answer.” I shook my head. “But Leeroy had said the real player was nearly brain dead after a heart attack…” I muttered to myself. Leeroy had actually used a tasteless name in my opinion.
Carver stood with a cane in hand and waited for me to piece things together. That seemed like a Carver response. I, Grant Legate, was across from what had to be an NPC version of the player. The simplest explanation was probably the correct one. I didn’t want to contemplate a Voice who mimicked the dead. That would be rude, even for a video game. Plus that Jester Voice had even stated he wouldn’t dare disrespect a memory. So….
“His autopilot?” I took a stab.
“Yes. I am what you, what I, would have dubbed as an autopilot.” The old man nodded and smiled a bit wider.
Continue Online (Part 2, Made) Page 3