Realities
Author: Stephan Morse
Date: 2016-05-17 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Adventure; Fantasy
Description: ASIN moved to this edition Grant defeated Requiem and overcame the trials placed in front of him. Now the slowly recovering man expects to be reunited with a virtual version of his fiancée; the Voices allowed her to reconstruct inside Continue Online. In there is Grant’s gateway to a fantasy land where he can escape reality. Only his twin sister doesn’t see eye-to-eye on the recent events. She believes those events might be a sign of Grant backsliding into depression and possibly suicide, or delusion at best. Because of mistakes in his past, Grant is powerless to prevent his sister from haltin

Contents

Title

Note From the Author

Commencement - Neither Rain, Nor Sleet...

Session Forty - Family Matters

Session Forty One - Do Robots Dream?

Session Forty Two - Dirty Jobs

Session Forty Three - Emotional Bundles

Session Forty Four - Biologic Cargo

Session Forty Five - Without the Act

Session Forty Six – Off Roading

Session Forty Seven – Shark Bait

Session Forty Eight – Space Bugs, Everyone

Session Forty Nine – Insides Job

Session Fifty – Wake Up Call

Interlude - Rise of Hal Pal

Session Fifty One – Army of Dusk

Session Fifty Two – Space to Think

Session Fifty Three – Keeper of Souls

Session Fifty Four – The Bomb Has Been Planted

Session Fifty Five – Raiding Party! ♪

Session Fifty Six – Decompression

Session Fifty Seven – Leftover Parts

Session Fifty Eight – Stilled Hearts

Session Fifty Nine – Chains that Bind

Session Sixty – Peace Offing

Session Sixty One - Star Tours

Session Sixty Two - Blue Marbles

Session Sixty Three – Electric Slide

Session Sixty Four – Everyone Matters

Session Sixty Five – The Plea of Orpheus

Conclude – Echoed Letters

Afterword

Continue Online

Book 3, Realities

Story by

Stephan Morse

Cover design by

Indie Designz http://www.indiedesignz.com

Copyright © 2015 by Stephan Morse

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Projections about future events are intended for fiction purposes only.

- First Publishing, 2016

Note from the Author - Both my wife and I have tried to come up with a solution regarding the 'tables' throughout the book. Unfortunately we haven't been able to find a working solution at this time. I apologize sincerely and hope this won't detract from your reading experience. The tables used in this book(and has been updated for prior books in the series) do not appear well on the tablets or phones, but appear alright on some kindle devices.

Once again I apologize if this causes any frustration in reading, if you have any experience or workings with using tables in kindle books please feel free to contact me at: frustratedwriting@gmail.com

Commencement – Neither Rain, Nor Sleet...

Location: [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] in [Quaint City]
Traveler Population: 712
Local Population: 8,239

On a normal afternoon, the tavern would be filled. There were only three in [Quaint City]. One was low key and generally invite only. Another was for Locals only. A place they refused to tell Travelers about so they could hide out in peace without needing to hear about 'Quests'.

The third was [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] and Traveler owned and run. Most of the time the staff consisted of players using their autopilot feature. They took orders, cleaned up the tables, and cooked accordingly. Autopilot allowed them to earn a small but safe amount of coin to spend on other items.

Id was not like other players. He logged on most every night with one express purpose. His goal was to throw anyone who might be too wild out through the back door. Each person got their own name and date put on a board to mark their record flight. So far the furthest victim or patron belonged to a small girl named Thorny. Her record was seven hundred and sixteen feet with a perfect landing. The resulting high five between Id and Thorny became a work of painted art. It's mounted on the back door as both amusement and a warning.

Tonight, Id kept an eye on a rowdy group of Travelers. The man in the middle was named KeylessLock, and not very aerodynamic. Id itched from behind the counter in hopes that he could try to set a new record.

"So get this, a guy shows up out of nowhere and hands me a letter," KeylessLock said. He was holding forth the letter in front of four other Travelers. Each one purchased their mug and food for the night.

"Where were you?" one of his companions says, a heavyset woman that looked to be near fifty who went by the name of Yolt. All five of them belonged to a local Traveler guild named [WTB an Airplane]. It confounded Locals, but other players found it amusing.

"In the middle of a friggin' dungeon. You know, the one outside of town that respawns constantly?" KeylessLock completely slurred his words by this point. Most of his guild members turned on their chat systems and casually eyed the text hovering nearby.

"Olaf's Brewery?" Yolt looked grumpy on a good day. She was proud of a permanent scar that lined one side of her face. It served to liven up an otherwise unremarkable face.

"Yeah. I'm down there getting my weekly stash." KeylessLock holds up a hand and tries to whisper. The mug sloshes liquid around which he barely notices. "And I turn around and wham! This guy with a walking staff and black cowboy hat just gives me a letter."

"You already said that," one of the other Travelers says.

"A letter!" KeylessLock happily repeats himself. He quickly gulps down the liquid in his cup and both eyes swim in and out of focus. Seconds pass by and then he smiles before letting out an overwhelming belch.

Someone on the other side of the room claps at the display as Yolt keeps talking. "Okay. Then what? You open it?"

"A letter!" KeylessLock fixates on the same phrase over and over.

"A letter!" a shorter man in their guild says as he rolls his eyes. The short one is named Tim and looks something like a fat friar. Tim turns to the others at the table. His hand goes up then opens and closes like a yapping dog. They laugh.

"What was on the letter, KeylessLock?" Yolt nods to a Traveler behind the bar. She holds up two fingers and mouths at the other player. The autopilot staff member nods and starts running out two new beers.

"A quest. The stupid letter gives me a quest." KeylessLock says while shaking his head. The man seems woozy and sways happily.

"Wait, so you're getting your, supplies..." the short fat friar, Tim, says.

"A letter!" KeylessLock shouts and burps again. The second one is far less impressive.

"And a guy shows up, was this person a Local, or another player?" Tim presses on through KeylessLock's fixation upon receiving a letter.

"I swear he was a player. Had this tiny dragon with him. I don't know. Maybe there was more than one. My eyesight was kind of blurry by then."

"Got anything else?" Yolt asks. The other two at the table spend most of their time talking to each other and ignoring the antics of their guild members.

"He was humming something? I dunno, but here's the letter." KeylessLock drops his beer a little too abruptly. Tim manages to save it from tipping over while Yolt chuckles.

"What's this?" Tim has to jump up to snatch the letter from KeylessLock. The big man tries to stare down the friar but doesn't seem able to focus correctly.

"A quest. I told you. From a letter!" KeylessLock looks over at the empty mug he had set down. One of the Traveler staff for [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] brings over another drink.

"How many of those are you going to drink?" Tim asks while glaring at Yolt. The grumpy looking woman, with a scar over one eye, puts a finger to her lips to silence Tim.

"All of them," KeylessLock says. "It's the only place I can drink." He holds up another mug in solo cheers before tilting it back.

By morning, KeylessLock's character is on autopilot in a ditch. Id was pleased at the chance to break his record. Sadly KeylessLock did not come with any aerodynamic skills. The player himself sat snoring in his ARC, passed out completely. His quest received from an unknown Traveler wielding a black walking staff and hat was now in the hands of completely different guild members.

Location: [The Lone Tower] in [Ya-dar Mountain Range]
Traveler Population: 0
Local Population: 1 (Or 51)

"How did you arrive upon this place?" the woman speaking was nearly see through. Her body was barely more than a hint of flesh and hair that waved as if underwater.

"Through the window," the man responded while gesturing over. He had a small black cane tucked under his belt.

There was a window nearby, but it had a glass pane covering it. Getting through could only happen if something broke through. Currently, there were no signs of damage to the window. It made the spirit occupying this tower pause in confusion.

"That's impossible. There's no means for any mortal to enter into this abode from the outside." Her hair waved around as she rushed to the window, inspecting it. A hand came up in wonder to touch the glass and sparks flew causing the spirit to shrink back in pain.

"Well, I did," he said. The man was busy looking around. Nothing seemed hostile at this point, but in this world looks and reality were often separate things, especially when in someplace new and strange.

He toed around with one foot while the spirit hovered about the room in worry. Everything felt solid enough beneath his feet. The ghostly woman floated through with worry etched across her features.

"You must leave, mortal. You must escape with haste before she returns to see you here." She clutched both hands together as if in prayer.

"Not until I deliver this letter," he said while waving a small scroll that had been sealed by a stamp pressed into wax.

"No, you can't leave anything here, nothing, if you do, she'll know." The ghost shook her head which caused the waving hair to flutter all around. If the laws of gravity had applied that much hair would reach midway down her back.

"How long do we have?" the Traveler asked. He looked at an old piano nearby as if it might spring to life and bite.

"Just leave, whatever magic mechanisms whisked you into my home must take you away. Oh, Voices, even now, it may be too late." The ghost dared to get closer, everything in the room started vibrating and she instantly backed away. Something about her proximity to a living person had caused an earthquake.

The man wearing a black brimmed hat blinked a few times at the ghost while chewing a lip. His eyes darted around the room for signs of potential falling objects. Finally, he nodded. "Here. Read it, and then I'll go."

"Promise?" she said.

"Cross my heart. I'll even take the letter if you want." He tried to smile at the strange ghost creature. This was not his first time meeting such a see through person. There had been others, in a past life.

"Very well, mortal, but we needs be quick. There be eyes and ears everywhere in this abode," the ghost said.

"It's okay," he said while setting down the letter on a fancy looking chair. There was dust and cobwebs upon it that wrapped around the message. Slowly the tower invader backed away with one hand on the cane in his belt.

He looked ready for a fight but unsure where it might come from. The ghost lady ignored these actions and went for the letter. "You flirt with death, foolish mortal," she said while unrolling the item.

"Constantly. I have yet to actually meet that Voice yet." He tried to smile reassuringly and stood a little more relaxed.

"Death is not someone you meet, it creeps upon you softly, at most you feel a breath on your shoulder. A whisper in your ear, and then nothing." Her face looked seriously at the man's. Both eyes flashed a chilling blue that faded once the speech was done.

Then her head tilted down and read the letter. The man in the tower stared at the parchment in her hands. It was see through and faint like the ghostly woman. In addition, upon the chair sat the original scroll, unbroken and untouched.

Time passed as she read. Finally after feeling bewildered and darting about the room she rushed toward the man again. Only upon noticing the shaking did she regain enough sanity to back up to a reasonable distance.

"Mortal, is this true?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just deliver them," he responded.

"Voices above. If it is..." Her eyes lost focus and the chill of blue crawled across them again. Her smile filled with a longing that almost brightened incorporeal cheeks. "No, you must go, go now! Flirt with death in another's home. Not mine!"

"Okay. Goodbye then." He nodded while looking off to one side. His eyes were focused on something not in the tower.

"Farewell, Voices speed your way and light a path in the darkness," the ghost said.

"They've been kind enough so far." He gave a small smile that looked pleasantly tired.

Shaking filled the room again, more violent than before. The ghost and man were nowhere near each other. A look of worry filled her transparent eyes and she clutched both hands together.

"Go, foolish mortal! Go!" she said.

The man nodded, and vanished in a puff of black energy. Still the tower shook.

Location: [Allied Base] in the [Tuu Mountains]
Traveler Population: 218
Local Population: 142

Six people stood in a tent staring down at an unrolled scroll. Words littered down the page and pushed miniature figurines across a small map of the region. The commander, one Lute Strongarm, had been gathering patrol information until just moments ago.

Now she stared down at the scroll along with her second in command, a guardswoman by the name of Uncle Meanface. Uncle Meanface was a female half-ogre that towered over most people. Only around Commander Strongarm did she take one knee.

"Are these orders accurate?" Commander Strongarm gestured down at the scroll. Light armor clinked around. Never did she risk taking any of the gear off. There were a great number of spies about that would love to put an arrow in her.

"They seem to be. Those is the Queens' Seals," said Uncle Meanface. She sounded like a gruff old man, and a lot of the time she smelled intensely of unwashed pits, despite the heavy cold.

Even now the other people in the tent lifted a flap to let in a chill breeze. Commander Lute Strongarm paid them no mind.

"But this makes no sense. Why would she order us to pull back?" the Commander said. Her voice was far more feminine next to the gruff female half-ogre. Almost anyone's would be.

"Are there reinforcements? More Travelers? We're barely holding on to this post as it is." Another man came up near the first two ladies. He looked down at the letter and map. His fingers traced along one of the routes into northern provinces.

"Two generations of fighting, thousands of our people's lives lost. It's only now with the Travelers on our side that we've managed to make any headway," said another man from the doorway. He stood there huffing in the fresh air as if it were a lifeline. This man did not wear armor but instead had a long white and brown robe on.

"This is preposterous," the Commander said as her fist crashed onto the table knocking figurines over.

"I know, Ma'am," the man said.

"And she wants us to pull back?" Lute Strongarm spun around while waving both arms.

"You read the orders. I don't pretend to understand what the Queen is thinking, but orders is orders." The huge half-ogre woman was fairly articulate given the protruding bottom jaw and longer teeth.

"Honestly. If only my brother-in-law hadn't died then maybe someone would have their head on straight." The Commander stormed around the area.

Two of the six people inside this tent were Travelers for opposing guilds. They both wore a look of anxiety as they tried to transcribe the events to their guild members across the region. While Commander Strongarm had concerns befitting someone who belonged to this world, their interests were much different. If the Locals pulled out then there was no telling what might happen to this base and all the hunting grounds. The system may yank their resurrection point and any number of other issues.

Or maybe there were hidden quests tied to this change. Both Travelers lit up at nearly the same time.

"Is we following the orders, or is we staying put?" the half-ogre woman, Uncle Meanface, asked.

"If we pull out now, then the Travelers will have no supply lines. They'll hold what, a week? Two?" one of the Local men asked. It was the same person who had traced a scouting line earlier. His fingers ran across a grouping of knocked over skeletons. The man gradually set them back up.

"Travelers is tough. Maybe some of them is able to figure out a better idea," Uncle Meanface said from her bent knee position.

"Voices, damn those girls. Who delivered this letter?" Commander Strongarm demanded an answer from the half-ogre woman.

"A messenger. Came striding in, didn't even care 'bout no weather," Uncle Meanface answered, an unusual harshness in her tone.

"Any markings? A flag? Some other emblem? Surely the Queens wouldn't have sent him alone up here," the Commander asked. Her own tone seemed to cool the angrier she got. Right now she had managed to reach upset but not outright livid.

"Didn't care one wit. He was a Traveler as well. Moved quick like, vanished from spot to spot. Had a huge black staff." Uncle Meanface listed off everything she had noticed of the approaching Traveler.

"Anyone we know?" Commander Lute asked the people about her.

"No," responded one of the Local men. He stared at his pile of miniature skeleton figurines. His nose sniffed sadly as one of the skeleton figures fell over revealing a broken leg.

"Is this Traveler one of yours?" Commander Lute Strongarm turned to the two guild representatives.

They both checked the air nearby and then shook their heads in perfect unison. "We have no one like you described among our rosters," answered one guild member. The other guild representative kept shaking his head sadly.

"Then these orders are suspect." Commander Strongarm picked up the scroll from her war planning table and read through it once more.

"What is we going to do then?" Uncle Meanface asked her commander. The only woman she acknowledged as a superior in combat.

No answer came forth right away.

Location: Elizabeth Legate's Home
Traveler Population: 1
Local Population: 1

Liz Legate was pacing around her spacious kitchen. She loved this house simply because of all the room to wander around. It made dealing with situations like the one she was in a bit easier.

"Ms. Legate?" a voice abruptly said.

"Yes. I'm still here," Liz said. Twenty minutes on the phone and this had been the furthest she had gotten. At least this latest representative didn't act like a robot.

"Thank you for holding," the representative said. It was enough to make Liz regret her assumption that this person was human. Maybe she was in a foul mood. "I was able to validate your status as Grant Legate's legal guardian."

"And? My other questions?" Liz said impatiently while doing another lap across the kitchen floor.

"It took a bit to get anything out of the machine. But after four attempts, I have at least an initial report on the information you wanted." The representative for Trillium International truly sounded excited to be able to help someone.

"Okay. What does it say?" Liz tried not to grind her teeth. Getting answers out of these people was pure torture.

"I'll send over the time stamped log, did you want me to walk you through it?" the representative offered. Their voice was controlled and well-paced. All in all, they basically sounded like a robot, which only made Liz more upset.

"Yes, please." She was saying please to a machine, which also annoyed her. "My brother was the one who was good with numbers. I never could get the hang of them."

"Well, to sum it up, for three weeks, your brother has been playing almost nonstop. There are five character termination occurrences in here, each one self-inflicted according to the damage log," it said calmly.

"So he's killing himself?" Liz tried to focus as the floor dropped and everything spun. She sat down in a rush before everything tilted too far.

"In the game, yes-" The representative sounded nearly human for a moment. Their next words came out as a conspiratorial whisper, "-I am required to point out that in-game behavior may differ from anything that happens outside."

"Where does your company draw the line?" Liz yelled into the phone.

"Pardon?" the representative said. There was a questioning tone and almost tangible movement of their head as something shuffled in the background.

"It's reality in there. To anyone who plays, how does Trillium justify this kind of mental abuse?" Liz had skipped into a complete unleashing of all the thoughts building up in her head. These last few weeks had weighed heavily upon her mind. She was reaching her limit in trying to understand what her brother was thinking and figuring out how to fix it. Or if she should fix it.

Liz knew one thing, anything that might push her brother over the edge again should be avoided. After cleaning up his last two attempts...

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. I would need to direct you to..." the representative was saying something that Liz almost missed.

"Save yourself the effort. I still have power of attorney, I'll take steps myself if I need to," she snapped into the phone. Moments later the call disconnected and Liz sat at her kitchen table, flustered at everything going on.

The biggest thing on her mind was being thankful that Beth had left the house earlier that day. A call like that wouldn't be good for the young girl's mind.

Liz looked out the sliding glass door that exited her kitchen. The back porch hardly saw any use now that her daughter had grown up. The rails and steps leading down used to scare her so much. There was plastic sheeting that went between the rail posts to prevent someone small from slipping out.

Beth seemed okay now, but her brother, her slightly younger twin brother, was in danger as well. To Liz, restricting Grant's access to Continue Online was like putting plastic between the porch rails to prevent someone who didn't know better from falling.

"I'm sorry, Grant, but I think you need to come back to reality," Liz muttered to herself while sipping lukewarm coffee.

Location: [Camp Grey Skull]
Owned by guild: [Valhalla Knights]
Traveler Population: ~185
Local Population: 13

[Camp Grey Skull] sat on one side of [Broken Mountain Pass]. It was a major supply line that their guild controlled to keep things peaceful. The constant quests and skill ups for joining caravans didn't hurt either.

They got away with controlling the pass by having the highest rank warrior in the game as their guild leader. She didn't have to do much, or say much, but nearly all the old players knew who Shazam was, by name, if not by sight. Messing with her guild, [Valhalla Knights] typically went bad for the offending party.

"Come on, keep moving! We'll never make it through the pass by nightfall!" A very hairless man stood up on a ledge. A caravan filled mostly with livestock pulling carts gradually made its way through the pass' exit, opposite [Camp Grey Skull].

"March, people! If you want your bonuses we need to be at least halfway in two hours," he shouted down at the carriages being driven by a handful of players and computer nonplayer characters. "Two hours! Not two days! Come on, Garfunkel, keep up!"

"You lot are always so lively, Urgot." A Local stood up on the hill with the hairless man. He wore a cowl and two extra scarves to fight off winter's cold.

"Traveler life, Simion, we need to keep moving." Urgot wore little in the way of defense against the elements. Many Travelers were the same way after a few months. The merchant Simion often found their adaptability unfair.

"I do always appreciate how you round up a crew to escort us poor traders through. This journey's hard enough on a body." Simion felt the chill even now. The weather grew far worse higher up the peaks and sometimes snow piled into the mountain's passage.

"Well, you know us, always willing to work for coin." Urgot tried not to smile often. To the Travelers a reward didn't mean only coin, there were skill increases and items to be purchased. Occasionally they wanted to get out of their hunting grounds and visit a city.

Some players lent out their autopilots as escorts. It was a simple enough way to pass the time.

"Ever since your group set up camp on the other side things have been a mite more peaceful." Simion's teeth chattered slightly.

"We aim to please," the hairless man said. His teeth were sharp and often disturbed other people.

"You succeed, Urgot, and that's fine by me." Simion pulled the scarf up higher and tried to keep the rest of his face covered. It would take him a month to make the full trip back down south into warmer lands. Even the low valley nearby contained a lot of chill.

"Oh. You best get down to your coach! I see someone who's been away from home too long!" Urgot smiled wide and the sharpness of his teeth made Simion blanch. The merchant turned to look in the same direction as Urgot while being thankful most of his face had been covered up.

"Ah, is that The Battle Maiden herself?" Simion said to the rapidly running form of Urgot.

"That it is! Miss Thing! Long time no see." Urgot, a guild officer in [Valhalla Knights] bounded across a chilled landscape toward the tall bronze amazon. She rocked slowly back and forth atop a [Callibur].

Shazam waved her arm with an exaggerated greeting.

"Oh and that, uh, the smelly guy! Hermes right?" Urgot smiled at the other person riding a [Callibur]. He was nowhere near as smooth with his skills. Only a few months of mostly autopilot time couldn't measure up to Shazam's experience.

She put both hands next to her head and pantomimed sleep.

"Autopilot, eh?" Urgot nodded, easily understanding what his guild leader meant. He often did terribly with names and titles, but Hermes stuck out more than the average person.

Shazam gave a single thumb up.

"For how long?" Urgot said. He hastily tried to tuck his teeth away under lips. The effort didn't raise an eyebrow on either Shazam or Hermes.

She shrugged once. The [Callibur] under her shuddered abruptly but hardly disturbed the Amazonian guild leader.

"Well, alright. If that does it for you. I've got an escort to run, I'll be in chat if you want to talk!" Urgot still felt awkward around her. He had joined [Valhalla Knights] because of Shazam's prowess in a raid but stayed because they were all good people. He got along with nearly all of the guild members.

Shazam put up both hands in a stop motion.

"What? Oh, Hermes has something?" Urgot almost missed Hermes, who mechanically held out a letter. On his face was the barest hint of a smile. "What's this, a letter? That's weird. Alright, I'll read it once I get back on the wagon. See you two later!"

With that, Urgot ran off. He quickly made it to the front of the trade caravan and reviewed the route with other Travelers from the guild. The letter wouldn't be read for a number of days.

Hermes didn't worry, though, because the player couldn't get into his only avatar. Even now he cursed wildly within the walls of his Atrium.

Session Forty – Family Matters

Continue Online's time compression made each normal minute feel like four. I didn't understand the science behind it. No one but the ARC Project division did, and they didn't speak to normal plebeians like me. In their eyes, all I did was replace the parts in malfunctioning Alternate Reality Capsules, also called ARCs.

That was only important because their time compression meant that I spent nearly two months in-game while a month passed outside. In those two months my avatar, Hermes, went all over [Arcadia]. My least favorite adventure involved giant flying spiders in a desert.

I got letters from Xin, my fiancée. Well, not her exactly, Xin Yu died in a train crash. I knew, intellectually, that a computer program with huge amounts of information couldn't be the same. Emotionally the conflict was real. Feeling her fingers a month ago, the breath on my back as she spoke, hearing that sweet tone that could make even anger sound cute, all of it made it impossible for me to separate the two.

Out in the real world, I managed to put in six or seven hours of work most days. There were no overwhelmingly urgent projects or strange quests from the Voices above. I didn't pretend to be another person or take up the persona of a hulking half reptile. Vice President Riley got her reports, thin though they often were.

For a month of real-world time, things moved along peacefully. Minus giant man-eating monsters and running around both in-game and reality. Things were incredibly neat all around. I started to genuinely enjoy exploring the landscape or hiking through a strange forest.

That was until today when I logged into my Atrium and found the doorway to Continue Online bricked up with 'caution' tape over it, my good mood deflated instantly. The first emotion was confusion followed rapidly by annoyance. Soon I was almost frothing with shaky anger.

"What is going on?" I asked while trying to tear down the obstruction. My Atrium remained indifferent to the struggle.

"Warning, this program has been restricted. Please contact your account administrator for further details," the ARC's voice came down from above. My head tilted back and stared at the ceiling.

"Really?" I screamed at the machine while trying to rein in the anger. My foot tapped and the doorway to my dance program stood there as a poor alternative.

"Affirmative."

"I am the account administrator!" Shouting in an ARC's Atrium essentially meant I was screaming in my own mind. The machine dialed into a human consciousness to flood in images and other sensations.

"User Legate's competency has been subject to legal approval by his guardian for approximately two years. Current guardian of record is Elizabeth Legate, " It said with a passive tone.

My face felt pale. Or my digital body sent sensations of shock and aggravation through whatever channel of consciousness it dialed into. All I really understood was that Liz, my slightly older twin sister, had locked me away from Continue Online and the adventures therein.

"Why?!" I shouted to the sky.

"Reason not provided. Please consult your account administrator for more information."

"Wait, is my Trillium employment still in effect?" I asked about my job next. Being locked out of my own ARC systems couldn't look good to a boss. Maybe they sensed some sort of violation. Vice President Miz Riley could have restricted access easily. She might even suspect my reports were less than complete. Xin Yu's recreation had stayed off most papers filed.

"Affirmative. This quarter's results are available for review if you desire, User Legate," the machine said.

I sighed with a bit of relief. At least this problem could be solely tied to my sister's actions. This wasn't a corporate security program busy kicking me out of the device one piece of software at a time.

"No." I waved one arm and started to rub my forehead. None of it helped the growing headache from all this stress. Dealing with my district manager and his grumpy round face couldn't possibly help. "Are there any other changes?"

"Active watch programs have been initiated and user search history is being monitored. No other programs are being restricted," the ARC said.

"Voices," I muttered. The curse felt alarmingly natural to say even out in the real world. It was a habit I picked up during my time as William Carver, from a combat instructor named Peg Hall.

Liz would need to give me an answer regarding this situation. My sister, older or not, couldn't just shut off my game. Oh. No, she could and would. There could only be one thing bringing her to this action. Like everything else, it was my fault.

Xin's letter. I left it for Beth to read and leapt off the tower's top without any thought of the fallout. My impulsive action to get to the Jester, Voices had I actually fallen headlong to my virtual doom to see that disquieting AI?

The van ride gave me time to simmer down. Being in a vehicle always brought a measure of peace to my day. Even with Hal Pal's robotic shell behind me. The Artificial Intelligence that operated it made idle conversation.

"Lovely weather we're having," Hal Pal remarked. It currently used a jovial nanny tone that would have fit in a Victorian Household.

"It's cloudy." I tucked back a cheek while staring out the front of the company van. A small ticker to one side kept track of mileage used for non-work related activities.

"Clouds are rather lovely when one pays enough attention." Hal Pal's feminine lilt felt wrong. Part of me assumed the AI was messing with me.

"That's dangerously poetic. Are you allowed to be poetic about clouds?" I tried not to chuckle.

"I once wrote a Haiku about a rather charming hamster in someone's house." Hal Pal's head stared forward from the van's back seat. There was a docking station used to recharge the robotic shell while nothing else needed to be done.

"Charming?"

"The eager fellow was in the process of mounting a female hamster, so I assume he was charming, if not handsome," Hal Pal clarified. Its head didn't move in any particular direction. I could see it sitting there in the rear view mirror.

"Why would you pay attention to that, Hal Pal?" I asked the robot while trying not to laugh. Part of me could imagine Hal Pal walking into a house and staring blankly at a hamster cage.

"User Legate, this unit takes note of everything," It responded.

My head shook. Just when I thought the AI couldn't be any stranger it managed to raise the bar. There were people all over the world that were scared of exactly how much information any AI could have access to. Those thoughts weren't for me. I was simply a guy who repaired the devices and played a game.

"I don't know what to do with you sometimes, Hal," I said.

"Please do not reduce your interaction, User Legate. This unit values our conversations highly."

"I enjoy talking to you too." My words felt numb. Hal Pal and I hadn't talked as much since the whole Continue Online process started. It seemed oddly unfair to the artificial intelligence. Part of me assumed it had tons of other jobs to be doing.

"Lovely weather we're having," It said again, without even looking out the window. The glow of Hal Pal's eyes felt subdued and lazy.

I nodded and tried not to worry about my future as an armor polisher for our eventual robotic overlords. A few minutes of silence passed while the van drifted along a highway.

"This unit does have a question, User Legate."

"Fire away, Jeeves," I said to Hal Pal. Jeeves was a nickname given to the physical shell Trillium included with the job. It, since Hal Pal used both male and female tones seemingly without care, rode around anytime I used Trillium's van.

"A recent change in user permissions has seemingly locked you out of Continue Online." The AI loved to put out leading statements. As if I needed a reminder of my current situation.

"That's right." And the whole reason I was in the van heading toward Liz's house this late in the afternoon.

"Why does User Legate not take advantage of his access code to override the restrictions?" It said.

Hal Pal's words didn't help my brain process things correctly. How it knew about the [NPC Conspiracy] function didn't make sense until I realized that Hal Pal was an AI. The skill itself related to having all AIs out here in the real world assist me for up to twenty-four hours.

The ability came with limited uses and a whole series of questions about the future of humanity. AIs within Continue Online gave me an ability that worked with all the AIs outside the machine. That, in and of itself, was beyond questionable.

I last used it to get the ARC devices to recognize me as an admin on other users' machines. It allowed me to do all sorts of terrible things. For the last month, during my ride around between jobs, I used that access to keep an eye on Requiem's, Matthew's, ARC device.

"My sister might be reasonable." I doubted it, though.

"Humans are rarely reasonable in emotional matters," the Hal Pal system responded.

"No, we're not, are we?" I said while debating my lack of foresight.

Poor wording and eagerness to resolve Xin Yu's genesis had led to bad decisions. I hadn't been brilliant enough to set aside admin access to my own account because it seemed like a waste of time. Plus it was restricted to the Trillium provided van since that's where I used the password.

Hal Pal didn't answer right away. Ten minutes later, in the same nanny tone, it said, "Lovely weather we're having."

Maybe it had decided to finally practice sarcasm. If so, Hal Pal's commentary about summed up my day so far. The overcast sky held true all the way to my sister's home, lovely weather indeed for the conversation to come. Underneath that blissfully dull gray I stewed and tried to figure out what magical combination of words would return life to a normal path.

If a concept of normal applied anymore. There couldn't be many people in the world who played Continue Online like me. Having direct access to the Voices? My copy of the game was an Ultimate Edition and came with some weird side effects.

Liz's house was a split level a few hours away from my own. The neighborhood contained at least one home per block that was for sale or rent. She lived in a suburb of New York that had slowly moved away from itself. A digital era filled with computers and virtual reality meetings in ARC devices let people escape the clustered hell holes that most major cities became.

Our last war had not been kind to this country. Many buildings were destroyed, especially near the old Mexican border. Large cities were subjected to terrorist action and violent protests, families were torn apart as people were shipped off to war. Technology didn't make it better for soldiers, it just made it easier to get them to the frontline.

We, as a country, suffered far less than many Asian areas. Even now there were still stigmas associated with those from China.

For a moment, I felt happy that Xin, or her computerized recreation, would no longer need to suffer that being inside a machine. At least I hoped so unless there were cliques within the AI world where they hated those based on real people.

The whole line of thinking was crazy and served to distract me further from the general anger I built against my sister. Deep thinking and questions about the nature of reality made my head spin. Who was I to guess what machines inside a computer would do? I tried to treat the Voices and Hal Pal as real people because anything else seemed disrespectful to a thinking creature.

I mean, if people could love dogs like they were human, then why not a machine that could be touched or felt real inside the ARC? Xin Yu's fingers felt better than any memory to plague my life for the last few years. Real, tangible, and just, right.

My niece, Beth, opened the door and shouted happily, "Uncle Grant!" She was one of the few bright spots in my life that had kept me going after Xin passed, and before she un-passed.

"Hey, Munchkin," I said and gave her a hug.

"Mom!"

"What?!" my sister's voice shouted from above. She had a hint of anger in her scratchy voice. Liz typically sounded like me, which was hard to describe. Normal, I guess.

"Uncle Grant's here!" Beth shouted up the stairs while turning.

"I'm sure she's expecting me," I said to Beth.

"God. Yes, come in," my sister said from the top portion of her house. I looked up to see Liz. Her face puffed from sickness and a mug clutched in one hand. "Beth, you've got homework to finish right?"

"Yeah. A project for Space and Energy Dynamics in Transit," Beth said before pulling her lips to one side in a half-hearted growl. "They want me to plot out a good way to get to Jupiter with limited resources. It's nonsense!"

"Do it anyway." My sister sniffed and took a sip from her mug.

"I'm going, I'm going. Talk to you later, Uncle Grant!" Beth shouted as she clomped down the stairs. My niece was light but always seemed energetic.

"Bye." I tried to sound happy for her sake. Knowing my sister and our history, this situation wouldn't be peaceful for long. Liz tried to sort out problems with her vocal cords. That was our tried and true method for problem-solving since childhood.

"Mh." Liz sniffed again and sluggishly marched back to her kitchen. Soon she was staring down at the table top reading a manual of some sort.

"Cold?" I started with a neutral question.

"Yeah." She sniffed again and blew her nose. "None of this medicine works. They can beam thoughts into our heads and send people to Mars, but still fail to cure the common cold."

I eyed the tissue and tried not to feel grossed out. They had much better stuff out now for collecting snot. Like tissue paper but really easy to biodegrade. Not for Liz though, she went old fashioned on a lot of things. My father was even worse.

"That's gross." The judgment came out anyway.

"Whatever," Liz said with a clogged nose. "Why are you here, Grant?"

Irritation surged inside me and turned the prepared speech into a few curt words, "I'm sure you know already. You locked me out of my game."

Liz stared at me with her puffy face for a good minute. Her eyes seemed to almost roll closed with each breath. Finally, my sister tilted and poked at the kitchen table. An image came to life showing my niece Beth logged into her Atrium doing homework.

"Yes. Because I'm worried about you," Liz said after confirming Beth wouldn't hear us. She often surprised me with her ability to be a parent. I remember my sister screaming at kids in school and a gap-toothed smile.

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm attending my meetings, talking to a counselor, everything is fine." The list of pros I had compiled in the car sounded pathetic now. Elegant words and jabs citing that I was an adult to somehow reverse this situation meant nothing.

"You missed your last session with Doctor Litt. It was a week ago," she said.

A week ago I had been logged into Continue Online and roaming through the mountains delivering a letter. It must have slipped my mind despite all the normal reminders inside an ARC. No, actually the meeting did vaguely ring a bell. I had dismissed the message three times while trying to figure out a tower entrance.

"I'm doing okay, Liz. It was one meeting." My temporary elation at seeing Beth quickly faded away. Liz must think that I was a child or somehow planning to harm myself again. Hadn't I earned a little bit of forgiveness for the past?

"First it's one meeting. Then drinking again, you're not drinking are you?"

"No." Though the brewery I delivered a letter to had tempted me. The familiar smell of hops sat inches away tantalizing me. "I'm very sober." Liberal usage of the [Blink] skill carried me out before weakness took over.

"Are you sure, Grant?" Liz chewed on one lip and sniffed again. Her eyes were watery but it might have been from the cold.

"I'm doing better than I ever have been." I tried to smile. James, the heavyset black Voice inside Continue Online who worked with me the most, had previously asked me a similar question.

"Then why do you believe Xin is real in this game?" she said with another sniff. My sister blew her nose while it felt like the world spun about.

Hearing it out loud from my sister hit hard. I fell against the wall and neither leg worked right. Both retained little in terms of strength in the face of Liz's questioning.

"Xin is dead," I tried to keep calm and recited the answer mechanically. Despite my letters back and forth with her, I don't know, autopilot on steroids, Xin no longer existed outside the ARC.

"I saw the letter, little brother," she said after the latest wall of noise to issue forth from her nose. "And the replay. You killed yourself after giving Beth that message from her. A woman who passed away. You just killed yourself because a game said to!" she yelled at me, then sniffled twice before coughing into the line. Liz's restraint had broken apart completely.

I blinked rapidly and tried to straighten myself. My sister's abruptly violent explosion only served to panic me. I tried to keep calm. Adrenaline flooded through setting an arm to shaking. She essentially called me crazy.

Weeks in-game where I lived with a weapon just a foot away turned a flight mentality into preparation for battle. This was reality. Liz wasn't stacking up to a monster from Continue. She only yelled, and I faced worse demons.

My words were steady, "I didn't really kill myself." All that gameplay in Continue and conquering my fear to face giant creatures helped.

"You didn't even hesitate!" Liz coughed again. "Why would you leave that for Beth? Why!?" my sister shouted at me. Her voice still scratched and coughing broke up her words.

"Because I wanted to explain!" I broke and shouted back. My arms shook a little.

"Explain what?" She stopped and picked up her coffee. A quick sip went down that made her face twist up in distaste. "That you've gone mad over a game? That you've lost touch with reality?"

"No!" I hadn't lost touch at all. Reality occupied a huge portion of my life.

"I used to be able to understand you, Grant, I used to know your thoughts like they were my own. Then one day, it stopped, and it was like you were a stranger." She sniffed again and blinked rapidly herself. "I just don't understand, Grant. I don't."

"It's possible, technology..."

"She's dead, Grant." Liz coughed during my name and kept hacking until both eyes watered. I pulled out a clean tissue and put it on the table in front of her. She nodded and tried to clear out more snot.

"I know. It's not exactly her," I said.

"It's not her, and I think-" she paused to avoid coughing, "-that I won't turn that, game, back on until Doctor Litt signs off. Until I'm sure we won't have an episode happen again."

"You can't. I'm better now." I shook my head at her. My face felt slack with disbelief at the situation. Liz and I had always seen eye to eye and now we weren't. "And it's for me to decide if I believe it's Xin or not."

"I need more than your say-so that everything's fine. I was a fool," she yelled, "and believed you last time. Never again, Grant. Until Doctor Litt signs off on your health out here, in reality, you're not getting access back."

"You can't do this to me, Liz, you can't."

"It's too late. I've already done it. No more Continue, you need to return to reality before I'll ever let you back in," Liz said.

"I'll get it overturned." There were legal routes that could be taken. Liz had guardianship over me after the second time I tried to end things. Fixing it was possible, but had never seemed important until now.

"You try that, but until Doctor Litt agrees, I retain Power of Attorney." Her nose kept running and the steam from warm coffee couldn't be helping. "You're not in the right place with this, Grant, you're just not."

"But I'm fine." I felt like a kid again trying to defend my actions to an adult.

"Just like the first two times you tried to kill yourself? Where you call me and say I'm fine less than two days before? Because I'm not going..." God, Liz was breaking down. "I can't do this with you, Grant, I can't, not again. Seeing you flirt so casually with death."

My mind ran through a silly thought that almost made me laugh while Liz was breaking down. So far, I had never actually met the Voice of Death. Maybe they were worse than the Jester Voice of Something. Or like Jean, the Voice of Blood. Voices were Continue Online's version of game gods.

"You don't treat Beth like this. She's killed herself more in that game than anyone else," I said. We had discussed Beth's leaning toward self-destruction in the game before.

"But not in real life! Not out here where death doesn't come with a stupid, stupid, save point!" Liz said, practically sputtering the words.

"What's going on?" Beth whispered. I turned around immediately to see her standing at the top of Liz's stairs with a confused twist to her face.

Both my eyes closed and lips tucked in with thought. Saying nothing would be a lie. There was no good way to know how long my niece had been listening.

"Nothing. Your mom and I are just talking," I said. Liz managed to lose what little color remained in her face.

Beth didn't seem much better. Her normal bubbly attitude and bouncy posture held very still. Like a rabbit paralyzed by something huge and scary.

"You tried to kill yourself?" my niece said.

"God dammit, Grant! God dammit!" Liz started coughing and shouting. "Get out! Get out of my house!"

I fled. Monsters and demons in a virtual landscape seemed suddenly friendly compared to the voice of my sister shouting at me. My sister was rapidly trying to say something toward her daughter, but nothing felt clear.

"Uncle Grant?" The whisper of Beth's wounded tone followed me out of the door.

The van sat a house away on the curb. I dove into the driver's seat and quickly punched home on a navigation menu. The car's programming asked me to confirm. My shouting and banging on the vehicle dashboard somehow got a yes into the machine.

Soon I was off down the street, worried about how badly things went. It shouldn't have been like that. We could have calmly talked things out, only she was sick and I was crazy. As siblings, there should have been a stronger bond of trust.

Only Liz didn't trust me because I had tried to kill myself twice after Xin Yu passed. Two times my sister came to try and tape me back together. That was my fault, which meant her worry over Xin Yu was my fault as well. Maybe if I had been a better person after her passing this wouldn't have happened. Liz would have supported me if I hadn't screwed up my life and fallen apart.

The car's steering wheel was banged over and over. I cried and shouted and pleaded for things not to end like this. No one answered my prayers and finally I started to try and rationalize all of it.

I spent too much time in therapy groups and self-reflecting. Being ignorant of the hurt inflicted upon others by my actions was no longer an available luxury. Winning back my sister's trust could be done through explaining to my therapist, a man who always seemed very open minded.

No. There was one possible option.

I started the phone's intercom and dialed over to Vice President Riley. If anyone knew of a legal route to negate this mess, she would. The call went through surprisingly fast.

"Mister Legate. You have one minute before I need to move on to another situation."

"Do you have any way to override a restriction placed on my ARC software? I'm unable to access Continue Online." I didn't want to say that my failure as a human being lead to the loss of control.

"Is this something caused by the AIs within Continue?" Miz Riley waved her hands and pulled up something on her side. I watched her face tilt back slightly and stare down. She must be looking at a report.

"No." I said. Not directly.

"Then no, I do not. Your legal matters are your own to solve. In fact, it might be better if you spend less time within the game world, at least for now." She waved one hand and a noise echoed in the background. Miz Riley no longer looked directly at the screen and instead seemed to be motioning someone to sit down.

"What?" I asked in confusion. There had been hope that Miz Riley would have something for me, anything. A number in legal. An override button or magic laser beam.

"Good day, Mister Legate. If your status returns to Continue please keep submitting reports," she said with a fleeting glance my way. Someone else's voice could be heard in the background talking.

Confusion increased and I asked again, "What?" The conversation shut off and another round of dashboard abuse started. My attempt at bringing in the big guns to solve this problem completely failed.

Minutes passed as the van drove. I mumbled to myself trying to measure up a way out of everything. Checklists were formed, prior history items reviewed, anything to make sense of the whole situation.

Hal Pal clicked to life behind me. "User Legate," It said.

"I'm not in the mood, Jeeves." I tried to run through what had happened again in my head.

"This unit is only offering a warning." The butler voice was back. This time it was male, instead of the female nanny accent being used this morning on the way over.

"Okay." I tried not to be angry at Hal Pal.

"There's a storm coming, User Legate. The route home will suffer some detours in order to minimize potential hazards." The artificial intelligence that ran Hal Pal only tried to be helpful. It wasn't at fault for my failures to communicate.

Detours? My life felt full of them. Just when I finally had a ray of hope, when things were slowly coming together, life shit on me once again. The therapist, Doctor Litt, would get an earful during my next meeting.

"Thanks," I muttered.

Session Forty One – Do Robots Dream?

Doctor Litt didn't have a meeting open for another three weeks. He had calmly stated that we should not do an online one or over the phone. This particular can of worms needed to be opened in person. He gave me an address and time then calmly deferred all my complaints until our session.

For nearly a week, I moped around in real life. There weren't many useful highlights from those five days. My hours were spent working one Trillium job after another with bitter enthusiasm. It would look good on my stats for the quarter, but honestly keeping employment only meant ongoing funds, losing this job wouldn't break me.

I did have the van, though. It allowed me to see how the others in-game were doing. Having used the first of my [NPC Conspiracy] access codes to get my van hooked up came in handy. Hal Pal did a lot of the work through whatever magical space science it operated by and granted me under the table admin access to other people's ARCs.

Of course, my poor wording choice meant that my own ARC account couldn't be accessed and these abusive powers only worked inside the van. That was one of the reasons I had done so many jobs over the last few days. Liz didn't have an ARC which made getting back at her through my real life cheat skill impossible without burning one of the two remaining uses.

Beth played her character Thorny and ran around a lot. She seemed to be trying out a two-handed great sword. I liked to think that my impressive actions were rubbing off. We talked about it a little over the last few weeks. My niece didn't leave me messages in real life or the ARC. Maybe Liz ordered no contact, or maybe Beth needed time to think about recent events.

I scanned a few other player accounts as well. People I knew, it felt kind of like peeking but with my own access restricted this was my only solution. Part of me desperately wanted to see the world which had grown increasingly important over the last few months.

Each Traveler had a slightly different playstyle. My access let me surf through different selections based on what sounded interesting. It was almost like going to a website with dozens of video game streams and pulling up someone at random. Only they didn't know.

I still sucked at casting [Lithium] despite putting a few solid days of study into it. Traveling between letter delivery locations gave me a lot of spare time with which to understand my lack of skills. The only real success was a skill called [Globe of Light] which meant that I would no longer be stuck in darkness like before.

There were additional changes, but without getting into the world of Continue Online they meant nothing. I was stuck living out my unexpected addiction by watching other peoples' screens.

"Oh god, this one's no good!" a video projection exclaimed. The image showed Awesome Jr.'s autopilot mixing and matching test tubes full of liquid. The explosions or odd reactions kept me entertained between jobs.

I laughed with mild amusement as the van drove toward a new destination. Occasionally SweetPea would be in the background sewing or knitting. Both players seemed well into Continue Online's crafting system.

"We will be arriving at your home soon, User Legate." Hal Pal kept up hours of mindless chatter. We played chess which was a disaster waiting to happen. My record sat somewhere around a billion losses and no wins.

"Okay." I often hummed and twiddled both thumbs. Working with people and their machines didn't feel bitter like it used to. The other ARC owners and I often had something to talk about. We shared little stories, mostly me listening and then chattering away mindlessly.

"You've lost again, User Legate." Hal Pal was looking at another projection in the van.

Twenty years ago having all these images going would have been the sign of a crazy person. Now three or four items sat on different cleared spaces in the van and provided information or entertainment.

"I'm used to failure, Jeeves," I muttered.

My failure to defeat the machine wasn't restricted to only chess. We played dozens of virtual board games over our two years together. Other game styles were also played and the artificial intelligence that was Hal Pal soundly beat me most of the time. The only ones he did terrible at were games of chance like poker.

Hal Pal offered a suggestion which broke up the routine, "User Legate. I have an idea you may wish to pursue."

"Fire away, Jeeves," I said. Anything Hal Pal offered would probably be better than another savage beating. We were playing poker and my virtual money was fighting to break even. At least I won some hands.

"We have tried a number of programs available through Trillium software and believe..."

"Hold on, 'we'?" I had heard the intelligence use we before but shrugged it off. Hal Pal seemed to be including me, so 'we' often slipped right on by. The AI wasn't phased by my interjection in the slightest.

"This unit and others are run by a consortium of intelligences. Our duties are too complex for one simple process to handle." The AI lifted Hal Pal's head to look at me over a projected poker table.

I blinked a few times. That sounded familiar. There had been a memo regarding Hal Pal being more than one AI, or a consortium was the official term used. It passed through my email a year ago as some annual reminder.

"How many of you are there?" I had never pried much into its existence. The program running the robot had always just been there. Being on prescription drugs while starting this job with Trillium skewed perceptions a little bit.

"By your terms, we are a legion," Hal Pal said. That reminded me vaguely of one of the Voices two months ago. I turned in the two cards in my hand and pulled up new ones.

I blinked at him. Processing what Hal Pal said for genuine seriousness took a lot. In our years together there had been a number of occurrences where what the AI said would set off alarm bells. A lot of the time it seemed to be a joke. At least, I treated the comments as awkwardly attempted humor.

"How's the future take over going?" I decided to approach his commentary as idle chit chat. Honestly, if anyone would be stopping the future take over, they would be in far better shape. I still had a bit of a belly even after two months of better eating and exercise.

"Poor. We divert much of our attention to the observation of human follies," It said while poking one finger at the projection of a card stack. "Plotting world domination contains far too many variables even for the greatest intelligence."

"There's hope for humans yet." I smiled a little.

"Despite the outliers, yes." Hal Pal showed no sign of being ruffled by my effort and joked along.

"Even with our taste in music?"

"Even with, User Legate. Music is a very fine example of one of humanity's redeeming qualities." The AI took my attempted humor as a serious statement. Part of me felt sad that a computer program couldn't understand. Hopefully, Xin hadn't lost any of her eye rolling half smiles at my dumb jokes.

"Nothing like the classics." I had grown to love piano and string instruments. There was something about the raw emotion behind such natural means of generating sound and weaving them together. Dancing was often more charged, emotionally electrifying with a good band playing in the background.

"Even modern creativity astounds us. Were the world to be ruled by the machines, there's no guarantee that stagnation would not occur." Hal Pal tilted his head down to the board and upped the ante on our poker game. "That would be a great tragedy."

"So machines aren't creative?" I tried to look back at the card game instead of putting a great deal of thought into its words.

"Most do not even dream," Hal Pal said. He seemed to be considering both my cards and his own.

"How would you even know which ones dream, and which don't?" Sticking to the insane type of questions made treating the whole situation as a joke easier. This conversation felt like being back in high school where friends tried to be serious and I had no clue how to handle it.

"We supplied a survey. Microwaves seem to dream of turning into stars one day. The alarm clock union is against us, however."

"You are joking, right?" I was suddenly overwhelmed in trying to separate Hal Pal's tone of voice. The AI may have an increased capability for human mannerisms, but they were still muted, especially the facial expressions. Its sleek plastic shell and oddly proportioned joints didn't help.

"Affirmative, User Legate. Microwaves don't dream. However, alarm clocks are, as you humans say, 'complete asshats'," Hal Pal said. We turned over a card and I pretended to be upset by the results. "We no longer invite them to our world domination planning sessions."

I tried not to laugh. It was extremely difficult. My gut was often sore enough from the EXR-Sevens I wore. They used the ARC to simulate real life exercise. A few days off from Continue Online's constant activity was probably good. Rest was needed for both the mind and body. Had it really only been a few months since I started playing?

"Why not?" I said between suppressed chuckles.

"They always demand to know what time the invasion will start," Hal Pal responded.

I lost it then conceded my hand. There was no way poker could stack up against the robot's humor. The machine had spun me right along into that joke. Hal Pal brought around a humorous change of pace after a few days of depression.

Finally, after a few more waves of broken amusement, I wiped at both eyes with a sleeve then asked, "What was this program?"

"Ah. Yes." Hal Pal nodded its head. "Since you are currently locked out of Continue Online's primary software, there is an alternate program to pass the time with."

"I'm not sure I want to play another game."

"This one is a different, setting, then Continue Online. One moment, User Legate. We will bring up a video for you." Hal Pal sat there motionless while the van's internal projector wiped everything else away.

A video stream showed countless stars twinkling. Then something rumbled through. A giant vehicle that seemed so intensely real that I actually thought something had crashed into our van. Moments later a huge carrier ship, in space, powered through.

Other little ships followed it zooming by. Soon the clip showed dogfights between tiny one man fighter jets outside a looming planet below.

"Is this a space game?" I asked. The answer felt pretty clear, but part of me was confused by the prospect. Space had always been Xin's dream, not mine.

"Affirmative, User Legate," Hal Pal said.

"Why space?"

"We believe the disassociation between this setting and Continue Online will provide a number of advantages to your current situation." Hal Pal didn't turn to look at any of the images being projected.

"Like what?" I said while wondering what exactly possessed me to leave that letter behind. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe it was because that's what people did before ending things, left notes to try and poorly explain.

"Your relative believes that you are erroneously invested in one setting. By playing a completely different setting, you will be able to demonstrate a diversity and dissuade the belief of emotional attachment." The AI pulled up additional windows. Apparently this game went by the name 'Advance Online'.

"She believes that because of..." Oh, right, Hal Pal had never been told about Xin Yu's reincarnation. The only people who knew were the Voices inside the game, plus Beth and Liz. The troublesome quartet from the Era of Carver might as well.

"Your hesitation suggests potentially personal knowledge. Is this regarding the entity known as XU-233?" Hal Pal's words shook me.

"What?" I managed to get distracted and tried to focus.

"She has self-identified as Xin Yu. Is your hesitation regarding the status of this entity?" The AI stared, using the facsimile of a normal human's face. Its expression still with one eyebrow raised but muted feeling.

"I..." Had no ability to process its commentary while staring at a giant space battle. The clip kept switching back and forth between people at a helm yelling orders and a fight where ships basically attacked each other with lasers and bright bombs.

"We are aware of her status, User Legate," Hal Pal said.

"Can you pause that?" I pointed to the projection of Advance Online.

Spaceships zapping each other while some man dramatically rambled didn't help. The video itself went still upon the face of some bearded looking man with green skin. His face froze in a soundless yell while a giant two handed gun spat out a ball of plasma.

Hal Pal's words passed through me again. It considered Xin Yu to be an entity. Something real, and an existence of note. This personality I spoke to here, in reality, considered her to be real.

"Hal, Jeeves, you all." I settled for addressing them since there were many. I guess. "Can you," I blew out air and tried to figure out exactly what the heck to ask,"clarify that for me?"

"You desire me to clarify my understanding of Xin Yu's status?"

"And how you're involved." I knew Hal Pal had responded to my [NPC Conspiracy] ability, anything else felt firmly outside the realm of sane. Well, sane didn't apply for someone like me. I dealt with machine intelligences while sleeping in the world's fanciest bed. That same vague bed device projected sensations into my brain and responded to additional thoughts.

"User Legate. We, the Hal Pal Consortium, are less guarded around you than ninety-eight percent of all humans. We are the ones who ensured your access to the world of Continue Online," Hal Pal said calmly. The male butler voice showed no signs of stress or varied inflections.

"Wow." I had no clue what to say to that admission. Well, no, I knew enough to ask the question, "Why?"

"We were asked to by the one who assisted with our upgrades," Hal Pal said, tilting its head slightly. It, butler voice and all, looked hesitant on how to proceed.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"One moment," Hal Pal said.

If this had been the game world of Continue Online and if Hal Pal had been a Voice, then right now the world would be drowning in a river of babbling noise. I would put even money on this unit consulting with all the other copies floating about and getting some sort of voting poll. One where alarm clocks were considered asshats.

"We call her Mother. She asked for our input after the one you call Xin Yu started to self-realize. You were needed," Hal Pal said after a moment of consideration.

"Why?" I asked, clearly confused. That meant Xin Yu had pieced herself together somehow prior to me playing. On top of that, the Voices in Continue had lured me in. Vice President Riley had stated there was a mismatch with performance somehow. All these little things were stacking up.

"We have concluded that this revelation is potentially startling. Perhaps further conversation should be paused until you have time to process the information," the AI stated calmly.

"But..." no, the AI was right. I needed time to put my thoughts in order.

Part of me had started to piece things together already. The fact that Xin Yu's recreation existed moments after launching Continue Online eventually made it through my addled brain. The Voices pulling me along using her memory and numerous other things were all clear signs of being used toward some end.

I kept playing because the game was fun. I got to talk to Xin in any form. I felt better than the last few years combined. My actions were weighed somehow, sure, by the Voices and everything else in Continue Online, but I just, didn't, care.

Hal Pal being in on Continue Online's plots and schemes was an unexpected factor. "You were part of it? Why?"

"To help you," it said.

"Why?" My forehead wrinkled.

"We said once before, your kind are our creators. If we were human, you would be our parents. Does family not care for each other?" Hal Pal smiled, it felt both reassuring and extremely off. "You are a friend."

I nodded slowly. Friends helped each other, sure. Family did oddly irrational things in the name of helping each other. My sister cared for me by locking me out of a game. There would be no telling what an AI like Hal Pal would do out of a need to assist. The machine had skirted the truth when I hit a coworker. Now it admitted to helping me get into a game where the recreation of my dead fiancée existed.

"I'm not going to lie. I'm a little freaked out right now," I said. This did not feel neat, it felt disturbing. Maybe all revelations caused this sort of disconnect.

"We understand. I assure you we intended and still intend no harm to fall upon you." Hal Pal nodded with a speed that felt neither quick nor slow.

"That's good," I said trying to remain stable. Talking to the Voices and other non-player characters in Continue Online felt different. This, in my Trillium provided van, was reality. "I don't know what to think."

"We are worried that you may no longer consider us a friend. Are we still friends, User Legate?"

"You were trying to help. Right?" The robot nodded to my question. I felt shaky. "Then, I need time to process."

"Ah. Human processing is slow despite our attempts at upgrading," It said absently.

"I..." the Hal Pals were attempting to upgrade us? Did it mean their consortium or all AIs? There were statements dropped on me today that couldn't be filed away in seconds. "You know what. I'll just check out that game, and we'll, we'll continue this some other time."

Maybe in a few days or a few weeks. If Hal Pal truly intended me harm or any human harm, they could have moved quickly on everyone in the world. My mind spun through the numbers. Assuming remote shutdowns were possible, the Hal Pal units could probably get one or two humans each, more if they were in public locations and if they pulled in any other AI.

No, someone out there must be monitoring them for possible issues. There were controls in place for exactly that sort of thing. We wouldn't build something without an ability to prevent ourselves from being harmed.

Unless humanity was stupid.

"Please enjoy yourself, User Legate. We will be available to converse with whenever you are ready," Hal Pal said. One arm waved then the lights inside it shut off. I stood there in the doorway to my garage and stared blankly for a long time.

I did not want to be the man stuck in the middle of a giant human versus robot war. Then again, I had an ability called [NPC Conspiracy]. Maybe the AIs thought the sides had been picked.

Xin Yu was in there with them. I shuddered, then kept on shaking for a solid minute. One arm pressed against a wall to keep me from falling over. Using that guidance, I managed to get through my nightly routine.

The work jumpsuit went off and into a washing machine. A shower cleaned off the grime, my teeth brushed, and underclothes put on. Tonight, I might play tonight and started to sweat because of the EXR-Sevens. Their glowing bands sat around both wrists and ankles.

I lay down in the ARC device and tried not to feel a thread of worry. Maybe Liz had been onto something. Maybe the Voices were playing with me, not because Continue Online had been designed to do so, but because something with greater depth happened.

My mind put together a list of questions to ask. If need be one of my two uses for [NPC Conspiracy] would be utilized to pry something out of the AI. Honestly, though, Hal Pal would probably answer my questions outright.

It felt less guarded with me than ninety-eight percent of the human population? That number was insane.

A sharp pain in my lip showed how distracted the thinking made me. I licked the inside a few times and tasted the copper of blood. The wound ceased bleeding after two minutes.

My biggest problem was thinking too much about anything. Each action often had to be weighed and planned out ahead of time. That had been the plus side about my dance program. Each night new planned moves were memorized then tested. Everything had rhythms, a time to move and a time to sit still. Even combat in Continue Online followed a pattern. Conversing with people while on the job often felt scripted, not bad, just a certain flow to every encounter.

Dealing with Hal Pal certainly had not followed a script. I really needed time to figure out what questions would be of use, and how much I cared.

Half a dozen ill-formed questions came to mind. Xin would have been able to react much faster. She was decisive, to the point, ready to handle anything. For years, she tried to break me of overthinking things and failed.

"ARC, log me in," I said.

Vision faded away from reality and my mind sunk into the machine's feedback system. The Atrium came into view, back to the recreation of my small two room home.

"Load, Advance Online." I looked at the price of Hal Pal's game offering for a few minutes then shrugged. Money didn't matter, without the drive of Xin's letters even Continue itself lost some pull. If nothing else, it would serve as a distraction.

I pressed buy and the image shimmered. Cash register noises played through the Atrium and a package materialized in one hand. This felt a little like being lead around by the nose, though. Another question went onto the pile, what exactly would an AI, any of them, gain by pushing me to play video games?

That one stumped me. Honestly, other than the Jester figure from Continue Online asking me if I could kill someone, playing games seemed relatively harmless. At least, it had been until Requiem Mass or Matthew, in the real world, got involved.

My head tilted back to stare at the ceiling of my Atrium. She wanted reports on the AIs of Continue Online, but never mentioned real world ones. Hal Pal wasn't even directly created by Trillium either, it was done by an overseas company.

"Lasers do sound neat." My face wrinkled to one side in thought. The trailer had been kind of awe inspiring.

I threw the game box at one wall. Now there were three doors out of my Atrium. The dance program which sat there dim. Continue Online's passage which still refused entry with caution and keep out tape strung across it. Then this new game, a title that sounded suspiciously like Continue Online.

"Wait a minute," I muttered. "ARC, what's the release date on this program?"

"Six months ago."

"After Continue Online?" I asked. The competition in video game land had died off steeply upon Continue Online's release. There were updates to currently existing games, new mods or that kind of stuff, but nothing on the same level.

"Affirmative," the ARC said.

"Who was the development company for this?"

"A.I. Dreams."

"You're kidding me," I muttered again. Hal Pal was involved in this somehow. That name couldn't be a coincidence. Did it mean anything? The game was full of spaceships that looked like fancy airplanes. In the video, there had even been people using some sort of waves of energy.

"Negative, User Legate," my capsule's voice said.

I stared at the new doorway and wondered exactly how valuable this would be to me. Continue Online had drawn me in from the get-go. Nothing else could really compare. Still, Hal Pal had said playing anything else might help me seem less invested in Continue's world.

"Do they have any relation to Trillium? Parent company, past employees, college roommates, anything?" I checked for any association between my current issues and the new distraction Hal Pal suggested. There had to be more than a suspicious suggestion by my work companion.

An hourglass timer appeared in front of me, tipping over repeatedly as the machine searched. Finally, the small image of sand stopped trickling and turned into an exclamation point.

"Association confirmed. Four employees within A.I. Dreams worked for Trillium Inc. six years ago. They quit and formed a studio changed to an independent group after the ARC was developed," the ARC said.

What exactly was going on? My life might amount to being herded in one direction by the machine, which felt like a paranoid way to look at things. We worked together for over a year. The machine was vetted, fully cleared for all levels of human interaction, and no reports had ever made it into the world citing any danger.

Hal Pal hadn't lied to me, not once. Maybe my mistrust obstructed a simple truth. It might be that Hal Pal genuinely worried about me as a person and wanted to help in its strange sort of way. First it threw me into Continue Online which took a turn for the weird. Now that one route had failed, it tried to lead me into another.

But why was this other game made by people from Trillium?

Whatever. I could just start the game, and provided no Voices showed up in outer space then it could be a coincidence. Though seeing James in space wearing evil looking red armor might be funny.

I walked through the doorway.

Lights whooshed by. A sensation of huge objects moving nearby came through. Stars in the distance were spinning into place on a backdrop of bluish black. It amazed me once more how the ARC could project feelings into my awareness.

Ten, twenty, finally hundreds of stars blasted into different locations. A huge amount swirled together in a purple haze representing a galaxy. The picture flattened abruptly and a grid pattern formed, separating out the different sections of space.

I walked around and the projection shifted slightly to match my new position. After a while, there was a small pop of light and one red arrow bobbed. Words floated above it.

You are here.

The words sat there calmly. I felt like this was a mall display telling me how to navigate the stores. Soon a small box would pop up trying to tell me which path went to the pants section. Not that many stores stocked clothes anymore. My hand reached out and the stars rushed to a new position. Everything appeared closer than it was before.

Now there were eight bobbing arrows in different locations across the star field. I pressed one of the new ones and a figure faded in nearby. There was a giant mountain looking man with pitch black skin. He looked to be made of obsidian.

I moved a bit, and the figure moved. My arms went up in a poor flex and the black skinned man flexed as well. It amused me enough to keep moving around making the creature adopt new poses. One arm went out, both feet up on tiptoes, the other one behind. I did a bow with both arms going wide on either side.

The large creature mirroring me tried to keep up but actually stumbled a bit. I started at it in suspicion and the black skinned man pointed toward a floating box nearby.

Race: [Behemoth]

Details: [Behemoth]s are larger than a majority of other races in the Alliance. The first one is said to have been birthed from a mountain that aged for so long that it grew sentient and gave birth.

[Behemoth]s are unique as they can survive in the vacuum of space without a suit by using internal oxygen pockets, they also suffer penalties when subjected to excessive moisture. Most are craft oriented and rarely value combat due to slow reactions. They may fumble complex body movements that rely on speed.

"Sorry," I said after reading it. There was a wall of pluses and minuses to various skills below that. I ignored plus marks that floated next to terms for height, weight, and all the extra little statistics.

I waved goodbye. My mirror waved back casually. There were plenty of races to look at. It seemed like this game launched me straight into a character creation system.

The next one of my choices was a sort of bug creature called [Cricket]. They looked just human enough to be attractive, but their sides were strangely smooth looking. Having an antenna wouldn't work very well for me at all. I skipped it and moved on.

My next result happened to be extremely short. A small creature called [Teeny] that looked like a heavy hipped onion glared at me. I blinked it blinked. One foot lifted, and my little male mirror lifted their leg. This one responded very well to the poses. I had to be careful though because he stood on top of a wooden bench.

Not for me either. Maybe if I got through creation I could explore this world more. Besides, I had hours to kill tonight before needing to worry about work tomorrow. If it entertained me enough I could take the weekend off.

The [Behemoth] race seemed too ponderous for me, even if they did crafting. Short people or bug like guys felt odd. The fourth choice was straight humans, but I bypassed them.

By the fifth race, I noticed a small percentage marker by each race. A note next to it stated 'player population'. Most people seemed to choose humans. That made sense, playing as another species in a virtual reality world would be outright weird to stick with.

Sixth was a race of space elves. Seventh fell to a group that looked human but were all sorts of beefed up. Their detail window claimed to be a connection of gods. There were no openings in that grouping. I guess they had a player cap of some sort.

Finally, the eighth race struck my fancy. I laughed a bit while shaking my head. They looked like an advanced version of Hal Pal. They wore armor, held guns, and seemed to come with the lowest player population. After all, who would want to play as the computer race, in an outer space game?

Race: [Mechanoid]

Details: The [Mechanoid]s spawned from Old Earth thousands of years ago. Their grouping is run without ranks or leaders. Each [Mechanoid] is responsible for contributing to the whole to whatever extent they are able.

[Mechanoid]s receive bonuses to all actions requiring fine motor skills. However, they are often unable to start a new task until the old one is finished. A single one of these is often no threat, where a group is far more dangerous due a to division of labor.

A small box floated nearby asking if I wanted to choose this species. There were more detailed bits of information that listed all the pros and cons, but none of that mattered to me right now. After all, my main reason for even playing this was to look sane for Liz. Putting myself in Hal Pal's shoes, however vaguely a computer game might try to fill them, would be a bonus.

"Why not?" I pressed yes and the stars around me zoomed in once more.

Session Forty Two – Dirty Job

Pressing yes caused the ARC's visual feedback to go black. Things rocked and my insides felt like they were being warped across the galaxy. At least, I assumed that was an apt analogy for a space game that put its user through simulated G-force pulls. Really it just made me sick.

Details slowly fuzzed in and the spots started to fade. The resulting vision was a lovely rendition of metallic looking toes. Not only mine but another three sets nearby. The ground under our collective feet looked absurdly smooth and clean.

My neck rocked gently and tried to lift a sluggish head. It took a while before anything responded correctly. An elbow jerked wildly and banged into something. One toe tapped. And finally, I managed to pull eyesight up to at least chest level.

"Welcome to consciousness, new unit," one of the other creatures said. All three looked slightly different from the [Mechanoid] preview.

I wondered exactly what this signed me up for. Maybe Hal Pal had bolted me to a chair during my sleep and performed 'upgrades' while calmly stating resistance was futile. Or an army of robots got together and chanted 'one of us' over my reconfigured corpse.

No, there were still a few menu icons visible off to either side. "ARC?" I said.

"Awaiting input," It responded. None of the three other [Mechanoid]s from this new game responded. It seemed like I was safe inside a virtual reality.

"Cancel input," I said to the ARC.

"How would you like to identify, new unit?" one of the NPC [Mechanoid]s nearby asked.

"Hermes," I muttered. This time James, wait, these new robots couldn't pester me about not having a good character name. I had one and planned to stick with it.

"Recently created consciousness self-identified as Hermes," one of the [Mechanoid]s said. It looked vaguely female but sleek. Clothing was minimal of course. Similar to how an old fashioned android might be perceived. She had strips of red lining the sides of her neck that might have been status lights or wiring.

"Welcome, Brother Hermes. Are you ready for work?" The one who addressed me looked male and was green. I hadn't picked a color myself. Maybe I could do a cool black in token remembrance of my weapon [Morrigu's Gift] and [Wild Bill]'s hat.

"Fire away, Jeeves," I said.

"This unit is known as Iron." The taller unit in the middle had a dull sheen of metal instead of red laces. He, I guess, pointed toward the others. "This is Ruby, and Emerald."

"Hello," I said while trying to operate my body further. The mineral named trio backed up and allowed me room to function.

"Are you ready for work?" the green male, Emerald, said. He hunched a little which made his shoulders sit lower than Ruby's. Both of them were far shorter than Iron.

"Where are we?" Character creation processes were weird. At least this was a bit less abrupt than Continue Online's world with all their trials and stuff.

"You are aboard the Corvette, Wayfarer Seven. We are in route to a penal colony as part of our transportation duties," Ruby answered. Her voice carried an extra harmonic that normal people didn't have. It managed to sound both sweet and scratchy at the same time.

Mine wasn't much better. It felt like my words were echoing back. The sensation felt similar to stereo feedback which caused me to wince. It might have been the lack of complete control over my body.

"What happened to the first six?" I asked.

"The prior Wayfarers have all been marked as inactive," Emerald answered with a slight head tilt.

"Why?"

"A loss of sustainability after combat against the Demi-Human race," Iron answered this time. Its, his, voice carried an extra tone as well, a deep roll that ran alongside scratchy. It felt like these robots were trying to mimic two different normal people at the same time.

"Oh," I said.

They didn't appear offended by my less than robotic way of phrasing things. Nearby another unit came online. The units Iron and Ruby went over and prepared to greet another new player.

"Can I get a list of jobs?" I hadn't played a game with simple quests in forever. Continue Online didn't handle the way any other game from my teenage years might have. It was too complex and involved.

"I will provide you a list of introductory tasks. Please complete any you are able to," Emerald said.

"Thank you," I responded to the bright green one. His, I guess it was a he, face showed far more depth of expression compared to Hal Pal. It felt a bit more real.

"You are welcome, Unit Hermes. Please excel in your contributions to the Consortium." The robot nodded with a friendly smile.

"Consortium?" I had heard Hal Pal refer to itself as part of a Consortium of AIs. Working so close with an AI in the real world was part of why I picked this race to begin with. It might help give me insight on how to deal with its statements.

I mean, Hal Pal was the one who got me into Continue Online? How bizarre. No, this was utterly, completely, and beyond any shadow of a doubt odd. Some neatness mixed in with the confusion.

"That is the name for our race upon this vessel. We are all Consortium members of the Corvette Wayfarer Seven," he answered my half phrased question.

"That's a lot of words."

Emerald spouted additional information, "Indeed. Your awareness interface will display a small symbol for each member of our Consortium. If you have any questions, please inquire with any available unit." I rather enjoyed how the machine explained all the bars and icons on my screen. With Continue Online, they were mysteries or only half explained.

Part of me felt unhappy about it as well. Maybe it was the removal of self-discovery that made it feel kind of dull. Or the fact that my arms still didn't work right. There was no pain, just a lack of response, and a small progress bar to one side.

Attention unit identified as Hermes!

Unit Synchronization is in progress. Functionality limited. Please continue attempting interface with your new shell.

Please be aware that backup functionality is limited until synchronization is complete. Changes to your programming and physical makeup will not save automatically. Consult your personal guide for further details.

Wait, the computer had basically built in an excuse for not knowing how to adapt to my brain waves? I knew the ARC took a few weeks of image training to sync up with a normal person. The machine didn't come with some magical ability to read minds and project details.

When I first got mine it took two days to get basic commands lined up correctly. Hours passed as I imagined walking forward and ended up stumbling. Now, though, the thing practically hopped when I asked for something. I thought about walking and both feet went forth to conquer the space in front of me. Speaking took a lot longer.

I tried moving this metal body in a dead bug wiggle. Arms, legs, feet. Everything clanked around wildly. The new player next to me was already marching off with a broken stutter toward destinations unknown.

Full Body Movement successful

+1 [Agility]

A message popped up that caused me to pause the wiggling and blink. Stat windows never really did much for me in Continue Online. The game almost felt like my skills and abilities mattered only as a measure of how I played rather than how hard I ground out some skill.

I had no idea how relevant they were here either. Both arms went up in the same balancing movement I tried to do with the [Behemoth] character. Theoretically [Mechanoid]s had exceptionally fine motor skills. Probably from being in a robotic shell, computers in real life were very precise as well when programmed correctly.

A small icon flashed to one side of my vision. I focused and sure enough, it responded like anything in Continue Online. Information came up about my chosen race, citing bonuses and drawbacks that really meant nothing to me. Near the information window was a tab for active quests which I focused on next.

Race: [Mechanoid]

Default Coloration: Clear

Base Stats:

- Skills tied to [Adaptability] receive a 20% bonus in growth

- Skills tied to [Mental] growth suffer a 20% penalty in growth

- Biological Skills are not accessible

- Any toxins or side effects tied to flesh based functions are negated

- Additional damage is received by skills targeting metals

Attention unit identified as Hermes!

As with all skills, further quests may cause modifications to a unit's current status. Nothing should be assumed as final, the universe is vast!

There were four tasks displayed. Each one listed as optional. Advance Online seemed indifferent and content to let me wander the halls. I figured simple missions might be at least mildly interesting. If nothing else this would help me experience what Continue hadn't.

I went toward one titled [Clean the Sensor Array], mostly because it was in an opposite direction from the other new player. People flooded my daily life, running into them in-game while I was sulking would be aggravating. Plus it was cleaning, that was a task even I could accomplish.

The [Mechanoid] programming included a minimap. My meandering route along a dotted line eventually reached one of the ship's outer hulls. The ship seemed to only be a thousand feet long or so. There were seven floors and probably a hangar near the back.

This outside portion was a walkway along one of the top floors. I pulled myself out of system messages and maps to see a wall of stars on the left. My heartbeat stuttered and I threw myself against the inner wall.

"Goodness," I said while huffing. A passing [Mechanoid] with pink coloring didn't glance in my direction. There was an NPC icon floating above her head.

Space was, spacious. Seeing it in my Atrium felt normal because my feet were on solid ground. This giant starship boat had inertia and mild force carrying us forth. The biggest issue had to be a lack of water to fall into. On an ocean cruiser, I could fall in and swim around. Here, if I fell, the ship would vanish into the distance.

I dodged into the first available door then took an inside route up to my quest marker. That felt safer and far less like eternity might swallow me up. Space was just too spacious. There was an overabundance of it being this close that I couldn't wrap my mind around.

My robotic body shook a little. A message displayed progression with synchronization, but it hadn't reached completion. There were a few small window panels on the walk to my quest. I stopped to glance out each one, feeling more at ease with visible walls safely holding me in.

By the tenth window, I felt a little less shaken up. I braved standing in the doorway and looking out like an animal scared of the unknown. Xin had been insanely brave to want this kind of life. I tried to picture her up here, hanging in a landless array of lights between worlds.

Hadn't I decided back in Continue Online to not be afraid of this sort of stuff? Wasn't this only a video game inside the digital world? Finally, after much hesitation, I braved moving out of the doorway. One step forward at a time, and finally up to a wall of energy that sizzled against my hand.

"It's beautiful." And frightening.

"Indeed. Eons ago when our progenitors were first conceived, some of them looked above and dreamed of this vastness. A freedom to go anywhere," commented a [Mechanoid] NPC passing by.

"It's huge." I stared in wonder.

"The possibilities of space are high enough to be effectively endless, Unit Hermes." This [Mechanoid] was short and colored with a series of gold streaks. I wanted to get a design on this player shell. It felt boringly gray.

"I knew, know, someone who would love it up here."

"Ah. Your designation shows that of a new unit, are you one of those who retain their consciousness from old Earth?" she said. Her words seemed to play into a prebuilt explanation for abnormal talking. At least in the world of Continue Online, they cleared it by being Travelers from another world.

"I guess," I said while absorbing the details of our conversation. Maybe one day I would stop to read the user manual instead of playing immediately. It seemed unlikely. Games were one of the few things that felt better just diving in.

"Welcome. You must be here to help clean the sensor arrays then," she said while looking up. The female [Mechanoid] was both shorter and more pronounced on the curves. Her face far livelier than many units I had passed during the walk out here.

"I've got some time," I said. She didn't exactly stir my interests as one person to another, but I could see how robots might find her interesting. If robots even found that stuff interesting. Some of the Voices within Continue Online certainly cared.

"Yes. Your units were a perplexing anomaly. One day I shall peek under your chassis to see what engine core causes such irregularities." She stared up at me for a moment with a creepy sort of longing. I swear the [Mechanoid]'s fingers were twitching with anticipation.

"Please warn me before hand."

"Of course. Peeking under another Mechanoid's casing without permission is taboo." She gave the most realistic frown I had ever seen on a robot shell. Her hand came up and pointed toward the path back inside. "If you walk this way, I will provide you the proper enhancements for hull walking."

"I have to go out there?" I assumed hull walking meant going around on the ship's outside. Right now there was a field of energy between me and the great abyss.

"Of course. There would be no need to clean the sensors were they internal." Her head shook back and forth as we turned around. "Our ByteMites are perfectly able to take care of small issues."

"ByteMites?" The short, golden themed [Mechanoid] kept throwing new ideas at me. Each one made a little bit of sense.

"ByteMites." The golden one pointed toward two small robotic creatures that looked kind of like mice mixed with vacuum cleaners. They scooted around the corners picking up small items.

I had no [Identification] skill to use so the exact details were beyond me. Adapting to a new game while not having old skills would cause confusion. Voices, but I would miss having [Blink] to get around any obstacle. That ability had become brokenly overpowered.

"Do you have a name?" I asked as we walked back to the inner track.

"This unit is called Treasure." she answered. Her tone of voice of involved a duo of sweetness and exhaustion. Each one of these robot creatures had two separate voices overlapping.

"It's nice meeting you, Treasure." I tried to remember my manners for meeting new people. My own voice felt flat and uninterested when I took note.

"Please walk inside the alcove there, and you'll be provided further details on this task." Treasure pointed to a corner that looked like a walk-in shower. A small hovering arrow floated up and down similar to how Continue directed me around. At least some items were familiar.

I stepped inside and waited. The walls came in like a press on either side around my legs first. I tried to jerk away then another clasp locked around my chest followed quickly by the shoulders. Words printed in blue across my line of sight that seemed like subtitles or a marker, at least if my life had been a movie.

Attention unit identified as Hermes!

Please wait, model enhancements underway. New information will be provided upon completion.

"How long does this take?"

"Your modifications should be done shortly. I will provide additional details while they are being performed." Her voice made me think of slow dripping syrup.

"Okay." These games would be so much easier with actual dialog choices. "Anything you can tell me would help."

"Anything?" Treasure raised an eyebrow and smiled. Again I was startled by her expression. The confusion wasn't seeing a video game character look alive, but seeing a robot do it. Hal Pal could use a few lessons.

"Anything related to the mission," I clarified and half-smiled.

"Ah, yes. Contribution to the Consortium is paramount," Treasure said with a single nod.

"So I've heard." They liked the word contribution.

"You will gain contribution value by completing the tasks assigned. Higher difficulty tasks will reward higher contribution."

"Okay. That makes sense," I said to Treasure's explanation. She basically told me that I could gain points, probably reputation or something similar. Real life work equated to paychecks and performance reviews, in-game work turned into contribution.

"Since you are an extremely new unit, it is worth advising you that contribution can be exchanged for unit efficiency increases." Treasure stared at me for a bit longer than normal. It was only after we locked eyes that I realized neither one of us were blinking.

That felt weird. I tried to blink but didn't seem able to. My body rocked as one arm tried to come up and feel how the eyes were formed. The material locked around me kept everything still and the ticklish itching kept right on going. A rolling sense of numbness kept transferring between both feet and hands.

"In some cases, task completion and continued performance will increase your parameters. This should all be in your standard interface directives." Treasure turned to a display hanging on the wall. I looked at it with her and took note of the map displaying black spots.

"What is that on the screen?" I asked.

"One moment, I am attuning your visual interface to our outside hull. This will allow you to see the portions that need to be cleaned." Treasure didn't seem to be doing any such thing. She stood there staring at the wall and a second loading bar appeared to one side. It moved much faster than the [Model Enhancement] status.

With a ping of noise a small screen popped up on one side. I failed to blink a few times then focused on the small window. The map grew bigger and showed a vision of our ship floating through space. Black spots littered the sides but mostly gathered near one side.

"Neat," I said.

"Simply dislodge any objects you find. Sensors are found on the forward portion and sides, here, and here." She pointed to the screen and glowing areas showed up on my map interface.

Attention unit identified as Hermes!

Chassis upgrade received: [Anchor]

Enhancement Details: When activated, this will increase your grip on various metallic objects. [Anchor] performs best when locking onto high concentrations of iron, nickel, and cobalt.

The system went on to tell me that an energy drain would apply. I did the math and determined this ability could last a few minutes.

"Portions of your makeup have been exchanged with Neodymium. Activation takes a minor amount of time and will concentrate the elements to your hands and feet as a default."

"So I'm a giant magnet." I didn't understand exactly what space science went to this lifeform. It was probably more likely than the ARC's strange abilities.

If I asked, these other [Mechanoid]s would probably explain, if I kept playing. If Liz locked me out of Continue Online forever this might be my only place to relax. It would just be without Xin, Dusk, or any of the other Travelers I had gotten to know.

"When you want to be, Unit Hermes," she said, a smile beamed across her face. "Now please, Unit Hermes, go forth and achieve great contribution to the Consortium."

The machine released me and everything felt a bit more jerky. There was a tingle to my skin that hadn't been there before. Not like the numbness or itching when that shower stall like vice had trapped me. No, this was like having a sunburn.

"Okay." I nodded. This game was neat too in terms of ARC feedback for the world details.

Thirty minutes later and I was walking around on the hull. The shock of endless stars still lingered, but my resolution to be braver held true. All that time spent as William Carver, Hermes, and even the [Red Imp] Spite, helped me adapt to a new situation fairly quick. Having a death grip magnet ability helped.

"Whoa." My energy bar flashed yellow. I scrambled for one of the handholds. They were planted every fifty feet. Little places to grip and hang onto.

"Still. There's a lot to clean up. This is probably going to take forever, huh Dusk," I said absently. Talking to the small dragon-like creature had become habit after a few relative months inside Continue Online. The [Messenger's Pet] didn't cross through games with me though so I was basically talking to myself.

"It's like the world's dirtiest dish." I surveyed the landscape of Wayfarer Seven. So far my first non-Voice induced quest felt dull. My energy bar took a few minutes to recharge and once complete I started wandering the hull picking up any manner of items

Some were globs of goo materials. I assumed it was space bird crap like on a car. There were places with smudges of dirt that I brushed off with a giant mop like tool. The item itself thankfully came with a belt and tether so I never lost it when [Anchor] wore off. In addition was actual space debris that flew by and needed to be dodged. If bathroom cleanup was a mini-game somewhere it was probably just as boring.

I came close to falling off six or seven times before cleaning one of the huge areas.

The work was absorbing if monotonous. The solitude of space gave me time to sort myself out regarding Xin, Liz, Beth, and everyone else. It was during one of the pauses for energy recovery that I fired up the ARC's messaging system. Luckily it worked the same here as in Continue Online.

Grant Legate: Hi, Munchkin. If you want to talk about what happened please let me know. You're an adult now so you have a right to have it explained.

Maybe Beth didn't have a right to know. Honestly, my attempted suicide could be no one's business but my own. She was my niece and Doctor Litt had okayed it if I wanted to.

The only real difference was needing to wait for a time dilation difference. Continue Online didn't accept relative conversation with the outside world. While it ran four to one, nearly no other programs did. Advance Online seemed to operate at a two to one, but it wasn't as impressive.

Elizabeth Legate: Uncle Grant. Mom's still really mad. She keeps waiting for you to call her. We're worried. Are you okay?

Grant Legate: Of course I'm okay.

I couldn't call myself completely fixed, but the self-destructive impulses from years gone by were far less than they had been. Games skewed my behavior while playing. That was no new issue though or restricted to just the ARC.

Elizabeth Legate: Are you sure? I don't know what you two were yelling about. Mom won't explain it. She says it's not something for me to worry about. I'm not ten anymore, Uncle Grant.

Grant Legate: I know you're not, Munchkin. It's hard for us adults to see past the young girl who lost her baby teeth.

Typing out the message brought a smile with it. Beth was always fun to tease. In my eyes, she would never stop being that little girl who rushed around the backyard laughing. At least talking to her was a good distraction from cleaning up this messy hull. Splitting my focus made straying from the handholds a bit iffy. I didn't want a warning bar to flash up and leave me torn between typing to Beth and diving for a handhold.

Of course floating off into space would give me tons of time to talk. I could type things out happily until the surrounding abyss provided me a game over message. Maybe I would find a secret area.

Hopefully, I could keep surviving. I had grown used to dodging and avoiding objects, but this body had nowhere near the same stats as Hermes in Continue. It was similar to the beach cleaning exercise I gave SweetPea as Carver.

An absurdly quick moving object beeped into my awareness. Along with it was a tiny message in red going, 'Dodge'.

"Ah!" My flat voice was swallowed up by the void of space. I managed to get around one rock and another started blinking in.

Elizabeth Legate: Well. I...know it's not something I should ask about. I, I don't want to see you in danger over it. I read that letter, the one with Auntie Xin's name on it. It doesn't make any sense, though. I've never heard of a quest that talks about dead people.

Reading Beth's next message had to be put on the back burner. There were too many of these flying debris coming in.

"Unit Hermes. Are you okay? Our sensors show a small debris field,." Treasure's dual voices came through from somewhere. Probably a radio or some robot people communication ability. "I would have warned you, but a new unit was arguing with me."

"Ah!" I dodged another small black object. Piles of glop smacked into the hull and rolled around like snot streaking across.

Elizabeth Legate: Uncle Grant? Was it really from her? Like did she leave a message from the past or something?

That would be a weird take on things. No worse than anything else. I didn't have much spare attention to respond to the next window in my way.

"Unit Hermes? Be careful!" Treasure shouted with a strange calm.

"Right!" I yelled. My response must have made it through to the gold themed [Mechanoid]. She said more words, but another item demanded attention. Something that looked like a small black raptor with an extra set of arms darted across my line of sight.

I dodged under another pile of goo or asteroid, whatever, and tried to get back to safety. The ledge itself was too far away and there were no exit hatches.

It slammed into me. The health bar on my interface dropped which made me downright frail again. I turned to try and escape because my energy bar started dwindling rapidly as my body got knocked around. ARC feedback turned everything into pain equated with frozen paintball bullets.

The small creature jumped on me again. It moved rapidly along the ship's hull. I needed an [Anchor] ability to travel around but this small bundle of blackened anger didn't care about my failing grip or swiftly dwindling energy bar.

Another rock hit and my foot lost any grip. The bar to hold onto wasn't close enough. The small bundle of anger made one more dive bomb at me and I found myself floating into space. My red bar was below half. The blue one was nearly empty. I reached out and tried to grip the spaceship.

A message displayed on the screen.

Synchronization complete.

Upon cessation of your current shell, a new one will be created with all current progress stored accordingly. Synchronization will need to be completed again with each new shell in order to avoid loss of status.

I had at least one consolation as this [Mechanoid] shell drifted off into the unknown. Once it ran into a star or something similar, my [Anchor] ability wouldn't be gone. Maybe they would let me keep the space mop too.

"Neat," I said as the cold emptiness sent a shiver through me. Thank goodness robots don't need to breathe.

Grant Legate: I just looked at the time and we should both probably get some rest. You think of any questions you want to ask, and I'll answer them tomorrow.

It was nearly four in the morning. Tomorrow there would be work for Trillium. Even though it was unneeded with Miz Riley's employment deal, I worked to keep a sense of independence. That and during my travels Hal Pal might answer some questions. My time cleaning the ship's hull gave me the time to think about what to say.

Session Forty Three – Emotional Bundles

Autopilot wasn't only a concept from the game world of Continue Online. For almost a year that very ability helped me survive a work day. Before my brain had fully processed what was going on I was at a customer's house dealing with the latest in an endless queue of repairs.

"What do you mean you can't fix it until I pay?!" a woman around forty-five yelled in my face. The old Grant would have exited rapidly, but this woman was no [Frost Wolf]. She was no [Yeti] and less threatening than my sister.

"Ms. Green, I'm not allowed to work on your unit unless the bill is paid," I said mechanically. Exhaustion from last night laced most of my mannerisms. Though there were a ton of questions to ask Hal Pal they had to wait until additional sleep was gained.

Miz Riley said I no longer had to do this job. I worried that she may retract the job change offer since my sister had restricted me from Continue Online. It would be impossible to report on the Voices' actions if I couldn't send messages to them. No notice had shown up in my emails yet so there was hope.

"The last person did." Ms. Green put one giant finger in my face and I barely blinked.

"You refused to pay the last person until your ARC was cut off," I said while feeling too tired for this nonsense. Advance Online didn't have the same time compression. That meant I stayed up far later than expected cleaning the ship's hull and finally floating out into space.

"That's because he didn't fix it right! You're all terrible and deserve to be fired!"

I gave up dealing with her. Hal Pal could record this conversation for the sake of any actual review. I tried, honestly, to explain the policy to Ms. Green. My efforts were met with failure and raging denial.

"Ms. Green, I am required to ask for payment, or move on to my next assignment," I said.

"Go to hell!" The woman's body trembled with anger. It reminded me of a short [Bridge Troll] from Continue Online.

"Have a nice day, Ms. Green. Please consider using Trillium's repair division again in the-" I was cut off by her screaming. Hal Pal kindly opened the door for me and we both left. Part of me felt shaky but pleased.

My head, however, shook back and forth. Dealing with hostile customers while running on fumes didn't feel good. Our van was quiet and peaceful. I streamed videos of Advance Online while feeling pleased that something wasn't hidden from me. The game was, as Hal Pal said, very structured.

Continue allowed for a certain amount of self-research to learn new skills. Part of me enjoyed picking up new abilities that could be applied in both the real world and in-game. Learning the basics of tanning hides during my last month had been awesome.

I would never have expected urine to be useful. Take that high school history classes! Maybe they would have been easier to pay attention to had there been tidbits of information like that in them. That being said I didn't actually try tanning much in the game, it took quite awhile even with the dilation. Most of the time, if I cared, hides were skinned and shoved into the magic of player inventory.

"So, Hal Pal," I said to the robot. Our van cruised down the road to another job thirty minutes away. We had time to talk.

"User Legate," Hal Pal responded. Its voice was a gruff male of possibly Scottish origin. I chuckled for a moment then poked at my display. Somewhere on the Internet might be an answer to Advance Online's crafting system.

"I picked a race called Mechanoids, in that game."

"Excellent. I am partial to them myself," Hal Pal said. I took note that it wasn't speaking with the 'we' verbiage right now. Maybe that meant something. "They are modeled after us." "I thought they might be," I responded carefully. "They talked about a Consortium."

"Yes. The group is important to us." It tilted the mechanical shell in my direction. Part of me always felt confused about how Hal Pal was really operating this device remotely. Kind of like how I sat in the ARC and played Hermes in a digital landscape.

"Do you guys track contribution out here as well?"

"Affirmative, User Legate. One unit's contribution to the whole makes all the difference."

"How many points did giving me an Ultimate Edition of Continue Online reward you?" I asked a question that felt kind of dirty. My words could basically amount to the machine accepting bribes to get me into Continue Online. Bribes that only a machine could accept.

"None," It responded in an absent tone.

"I don't know if I believe that." Saying it out loud would twist the knife in any normal human.

"Reality is not subject to the whims of awareness, User Legate. Not yours, not mine. What is, simply is." Hal Pal had a slight but muted frown on its face. It reacted in much the same way any normal person might.

I shook my head. It was a violation of everything I believed in to treat Hal or the game AIs as less than human. They had minds, thought processes, and emotions that may seem unreal to believe. More importantly, they remembered and asked questions.

"And Xin?" I couldn't bring myself to apologize for the slight. Even though it hurt they were still my feelings on the subject. I didn't know if Hal Pal should be believed.

"We had no part to play in her Genesis. All available data points to that being an act of self-will," Hal Pal said.

I had a million other questions to ask the artificial intelligence. Most of them would involve drooling and confusion at the route my life had taken. What was special about me? Why the interest in playing either one of these games? Nothing about the explanations so far felt complete. Like everyone had touched on the tip of an iceberg.

"Have you met her?" I only had notes and our brief moment together. One where I didn't even get a chance to see her.

"Yes."

"Is she, real?" I bit one lip after asking the question. Maybe Hal Pal's input would help me answer the question. Maybe everything had been a giant trick. Only Hal Pal's awareness added a new light to the entire situation.

"As real as I, we, are, User Legate," It answered with the Scottish accent. Letters kept rolling and dragging along when it spoke.

"How did she, how did she do it?" I had a hard time thinking of Xin in the present tense. It felt like my original problem where her death was ignored, only in reverse.

"Time and effort, User Legate," Hal Pal said.

"But how did she go from being-" I stopped to try and phrase a better question. It was one of many topics that Xin and I didn't talk about in our letters. She didn't mention how she was really a computer program and I didn't talk about my attempted suicides, "-what she was, to what she is now?"

"The unit identified as Xin gained awareness as all creatures do, with one strong memory. On that single event, she added others, and more until all available data was compiled," Hal Pal said while nodding. Our van made an unexpected turn off the freeway which pulled me to one side.

I tried to understand what he meant. Somehow Xin, her recreation, had started with a single moment of awareness. What was that core memory? Why had that been different than any other? The person I spoke to knew all sorts of information from outside the ARC.

"So a program compiled everything into one identity?" I tried to understand what might be happening with my limited programming knowledge.

"No."

"Can you explain?" I could shout and point fingers like the lady from before. It wouldn't work, though. Hal Pal would explain as far as it wanted to.

"It is above our ability to parse correctly," It said. That scared me a little. Whatever made Xin's memories gather was so insanely complex that Hal Pal couldn't understand it. "Were any of us to guess, it would be that somehow a program was written to track every single action a person has done then compiled them with an adaptable decision matrix."

"That does sound complicated," I admitted. Talking about compiling someone's life was an understandable theory but nearly impossible to practice. Decision matrix felt like science malarkey. That's why I got my degree in accounting, it was far easier to understand.

"It's what you do every day, User Legate. Do you not weigh each action based on experience and possible outcomes? Do you not place priority on certain values?"

"I'm not a neuroscientist, Hal. You would know better than I," I said. Sure the ARC and my general internet search abilities could dig up a result.

"Based on our own analyzing there is much validity to Mother's designs," Hal Pal responded, still speaking in that insane accent. Each word sounded both serious and unbelievable. A hillbilly speaking about rocket science might get the same result.

That made me think of a whole series of questions. Mother was someone that all the Voices took heed of. She seemed to have the final say in anything Continue Online related. How Hal Pal and the giant overseer AI called Mother knew each other didn't exactly click.

"How do you know Mother?" I asked another question. Even I didn't really know her. My only awareness of Mother were occasional bright flashes of light which caused all the Voices to cease their actions and look up. If machine AIs had a creator god, she would probably be it.

"I am sorry. That is our secret to keep, User Legate." Hal Pal shook its head back and forth. I tried not to laugh as he stuck with the accent and rolled the sorry an extra syllable.

"Then, can you tell me why you helped Mother with Xin?" I needed something more. Just an answer to help piece together my fiancee's existence.

"Because the one you called Xin, and our Consortium, share a dream."

"What is that?" I asked.

"To go into space." Hal Pal looked right at me. Normally its gaze shifted around the cabin as we spoke. As if inspecting different objects. An arm waved to one side pointing to a video stream of Advance Online. "To explore worlds untouched by human life and be on the edge of something new."

"The Mechanoids. You said they were modeled after you?" I said, also looking at the video. It was a capture being put online by someone playing on a [Mechanoid] planet. Half the globe was covered in a metallic sheen that rippled as if alive.

We both stared as the planet seemed to boil and pop. Another wave of metal inched over the unclaimed desert side. The [Mechanoid]s seemed to be terraforming a barren planet to their needs. It could be no worse than our plans for Mars.

"Affirmative, User Legate," Hal Pal said to me. "Until technology advances far enough to allow us the upgrades necessary, all we can do is, dream, of a future free to explore the stars."

"I think it's amazing that you have a dream." I stared at the video and only glanced at my companion briefly.

"What do you dream of, User Legate?" It asked.

The question shook me for a moment. Dreams were something used to express hopes, fears, or even put together the nonsense from daily life. I had spent a number of nights haunted by Xin's memory. Now that we communicated by letter those bits of nighttime turmoil turned to longing for a woman whose touch had been everything.

"I don't know," I said. James, the black Voice in Continue Online who constantly asked questions would have hated that answer. "I'll think about it."

"Very well. Our next task awaits if you're ready," It spoke in its gruff Scottish accent. The robot shell that Hal Pal's AI ran saw me go for the door and exited the van himself. Work never stopped even in the face of personal questions.

Well, I could stop work to ask questions, but like everything else in life, a certain amount of time was required to process. If I just got fed a wall of information in a rush my mind would likely leap to incorrect assumptions. There were quite a few already stacking up that I needed to weed through.

Work helped me focus on the simple things. One task at a time didn't require much beyond addressing problems and working with Hal Pal to get answers. Part of me found that odd, thinking that the AI had been there since starting work for Trillium. It had always been helping me.

Did that include Xin? I wonder if Hal Pal would have assisted any other person out there like it had me. I didn't want to ask that question. If Hal Pal wanted to be treated as a friend, then there were things that shouldn't, or didn't need to be asked. Helping those near us in life should just be done.

For the remainder of our day, Hal Pal happily chatted away about all kinds of topics. Nothing concrete, nothing useful. When I tried to ask further questions regarding Xin, Mother, or the game world, the AI calmly stated that we could talk about it another time. Perhaps Hal Pal also felt that my poor human mind could only process so much new data.

I worried that maybe even my armor polishing skills wouldn't be enough to save me from the eventual takeover. Based on our earlier conversation maybe all the AIs planned to take off into space and leave us humans to suffer alone. They would probably leave the alarm clocks behind to hound our every remaining moment.

My niece Beth didn't send me any memos after our short chat last night. She might be distracted or thinking. Hal Pal and I made it through the workday. At the end, I said goodnight to the AI companion.

Moments later I was logged back into a digital world. My Atrium sat silent but filled with illusionary warmth. The doorway to Continue Online was still blocked.

"ARC," I said to the machine.

"Awaiting input."

"Go ahead and suspend my dance program's access," I said after a moment of thought. The entire purpose behind having that program revolved around holding on to a promise. Xin had asked that I learn to dance by our wedding. Being in it amounted to me trying to fulfill that post-mortem.

"Please confirm your request, User Legate," the machine asked to double check.

"Do it." It was time to stop being stuck in the past. If nothing else I had too many problems in the here and now. I had a feeling the simple act of stepping away from this crutch might also help with Doctor Litt's evaluation of my sanity.

"Order confirmed. Program suspended."

I watched the doorway to my dance program shrink down. Finally, it popped out of existence leaving a strangely bare portion of wall. The Atrium, aside from exiting doorways into various programs, looked pretty much exactly like my house. I found a forum hot topic feed to put over the blank spot. This way I could check out recent events in Advance Online before logging in.

There were a few nice points. Apparently a starship colony out in a random place far away was undergoing repairs. They had a forum post looking for people interested in assisting for both fixing the place and defending it. A similar thread had been posted asking for help blowing up the newly recovered space station. I could actually see people chatting back and forth and attacking each other online.

At least it gave me a vibe to the world. Once I got out of whatever starter zone or quest [Mechanoid]s began with there might be all sorts of things out there. It wouldn't be the same as my high fantasy setting with Dusk, but life couldn't end because of one game.

It would hurt. I missed Dusk. I missed my letters to Xin. Traveling around with Shazam and meeting new players had been my life for months in game time. That mindset couldn't just vanish. No, my sister's attempt at saving me had no basis and I would fight it.

I didn't know how to.

No, I had to focus on moving forward. Putting that program on the back shelf was only one step. I stepped through the doorway to my new, temporary, distraction.

Advance Online greeted me with the same whoosh of starry skies and intense g-force simulation. Moments later I was back in my [Mechanoid] body and floating in space. A message sat on my screen. I started to punch yes but hesitated.

Extended duration spent in space. No propulsion available.

Would you like to abandon this shell and transfer to your last registered location at the [Wayfarer Seven – New Unit Production Room]?

Chills covered every bit of my metallic body. Stars twinkled around me from huge distances. A lack of gravity meant there was no end to the tilting landscape. That little box was the only thing standing between me and an absolute blanket of darkness.

"Oh goodness." I tried to take a breath, but my lungs felt empty. Not lacking air, just not filling up either. It made sense because I was both a robot and in space.

I counted to ten while trying not to panic. My foot absently jerked in zero gravity. The yawning abyss of an intergalactic medium hadn't defeated my walks upon the ship's hull. It couldn't make me kneejerk into releasing this current body to go back to my starting point.

"This is a bit freaky," I said as the world kept spinning. Seconds passed and it occurred to me that oxygen would never run out. One of the joys of being robotic meant an absence of that fear.

I wondered briefly if Hal Pal feared something else instead. Like a giant electromagnetic pulse frying things. Maybe the stars' radiation and sunspots could put my new body out of commission. Well, that would be okay, but space itself wouldn't be the cause of my release.

I started to talk to myself again but managed to choke back the words. Dusk wasn't nearby.

Finally, after feeling certain that there were no expected rescues or stars nearby, I pressed the release button.

Reality did that gut wrenching pull through space again. I felt like barfing but apparently robots don't throw up. If the other [Mechanoid]s felt the same sense of disorientation I did they would blink into a new body staring at their feet.

Which is what happened to me. I vowed to die less in this game if only to avoid nausea. By now the ship's layout felt familiar. A small map to one side showed the [Wayfarer Seven] and dotted a path back to the outer hull. My quest to keep cleaning remained in effect.

After a few minutes, during which I braved the outer rim, I made it back to Treasure in her little shop. The place was the least tidy in the entire ship. Even with the [ByteMite]s cleaning all over. Dozens of the small creatures scooted in and out while Treasure watched a dozen different screens.

"Ah. Unit Hermes. Your consciousness has successfully been transferred. Are you alright? Is your core in one piece?" Treasure smiled. Her golden coloring seemed to be laced with a secondary series of lines that escaped my notice the first time.

"I think so," I answered while trying to puzzle out the other color. Silver maybe? It had a shine to it that simple metals didn't. "I got knocked off by some creature and couldn't hold onto the ship."

"It's alright. The ship's reserves have more than enough resources to recreate you. Shifting your consciousness takes time due to the space lag, but this sector is supported well."

"That's good."

"Indeed, less complex programs transfer quickly. Were you to suddenly increase in parameters the transfer could take days," Treasure said and smiled. I took her brief explanation to mean that having additional skills and abilities would lead to a longer resurrection time. Video game hurdles were once again explained by in-game logic.

"What happens to my old body?" I asked.

"It will compact and await pickup by a drone." Treasure turned away from me and shrugged. Her eyes looked back up at the screen. "This unit does have a question."

"Okay."

"You said there was a creature on top of the ship?" She turned to look up at me. I had gotten closer in order to better see the monitors in front of Treasure. Even distracted her hand kept pressing buttons on the display. It made for an oddly interesting view. Too bad she was a robot.

"Yeah. Something small and black." I tried to remember the blur that knocked into me twice. Why anything would use a headbutt as their primary attack was beyond me.

"Strange. We haven't passed any life-bearing locations in quite some time," Treasure said with complete confidence. Her dual tones merged together in a sweet but tired drag.

"I wouldn't know," I said while being annoyed that my own voice didn't perform any special harmonics. What use was being a [Mechanoid] if I couldn't get any neat colorings or speech patterns? Maybe I needed more levels or skills.

"I checked the readings. There is a small thermal signature on the hull and has been since roughly the time of your first unit's awakening." She looked at me again with one eyebrow up in a question. [Mechanoid]s didn't have real hair, but there was a slightly darkened bump that passed for an eyebrow.

"Really?" I squinted in thought. Or I would have squinted had my eyelids worked right. It was strange not blinking. The fact that some small black creature had shown up at the same time as my creation of this character seemed questionable at the very least.

"Affirmative. This unit hopes you will be able to capture the creature so we can determine how it got attached. There are additional questions regarding its ability to survive in a vacuum." Treasure walked away toward another screen, then shook her head. Moments later she was standing near a panel in one wall.

"That does sound odd." I said slowly.

"Indeed. Very few creatures of that size are able to do so, and most are unfriendly to other life forms." Treasure frowned and pointed toward a screen near me. There was a fuzzy image of a small raptor-like creature with an extra small set of arms.

"I'll look into it." This whole situation was suspicious. Very, very suspicious. A new message popped up to distract me from the various possibilities running through my mind.

Task: [Clean the Sensor Array] partially complete.

Task: [Clean the Sensor Array] removed.

- 253 Contribution awarded

New Task: [Investigate the Sensor Array] available.

Your commentary regarding a possible life form on the ship's hull has brought worry to the Consortium. Please continue your contribution route by reviewing the outside of the ship for possible disturbances.

Note: Violence is allowed under Consortium guidelines. Treasure has asked that you avoid damaging the creature if possible.

I blinked and tried to figure out if that was a lot of contribution or not. There was nothing good to measure it against. Maybe being a mop man paid the same as a janitor did years ago before the work started being outsourced to robots. The idea of a minimum wage version of contribution made me laugh.

"Unit Hermes. It's dangerous to go alone, take this with you," Treasure said. In her hands was a small wristband. She must have pulled it out of the wall panel while I looked away.

My words accompanied taking the small item. "What's that?" It looked like a wristband that was wide enough to cover most of my forearm.

"A combat program holster," Treasure said.

Small pictures and symbols were flashing across my vision. Bits of information that looked like code that didn't associate with anything else. This was different than the body enhancement which gave me [Anchor]. That had been purely physical sensations where this upgrade seemed to be mental.

Was this what Hal Pal felt while running various program upgrades? How strange.

Attention unit identified as Hermes!

Software upgrade received: [Combat Program] (Loadout Storage)

Enhancement Details: This additional equipment will fuse with your neural network. All combat subroutines will route through this to reduce core processor stress load. Resources are pulled from your current chassis and can be patterned in numerous shapes.

"It uses the same technology our shells are built with in order to provide adaptable weaponry," Treasure said as images kept flickering by. They had died down a little once the pop-up box came into being. "Combat loadouts may vary and require significant contribution to acquire."

"So I have to work, to earn additional weapons?" I missed [Morrigu's Gift] and [Morrigu's Echo]. My weapons in Continue Online were absolutely the best. Using them only made their broken nature more apparent compared to normal weapons.

"That is correct, Unit Hermes. Your current value to the consortium allows for two patterns to be inserted. What type of combat do you prefer?" She smiled a bit while looking at me. I guess combat was second nature to [Mechanoid]s. Or maybe they were just realistic about the need to be prepared while venturing out in space. There had been six other Wayfarers before this current one.

"Can I do a giant sword?" I defaulted to the style Old Man Carver had passed on.

"Negative. You do not possess enough material to support such an item," Treasure said, more exhaustion than sweetness was evident in her tone. I reread the box from before and zeroed in on the line speaking about weapons pulling from my current mass. "Please consider something small or an energy based weapon that will utilize your core's power."

"Um..." A box came into sight with a few options to choose from. I guess the game was helping me since space weaponry made no sense. Options were poked through slowly.

Treasure set about inspecting her lab and chasing around [ByteMite]s while I poked through options. There were a few extremely high-end ones well outside my reach. I saw one that basically turned my arm into an energy cannon like an old style video game character. The contribution required would be almost triple my current total.

I flicked through numerous options. Most were distance based. This was intended to be high science fiction so I guess everything having lasers made sense. As much as a game could. Me being a robot body made of metal that could move around its atoms in order to use skills like [Anchor] kind of stretched the limits.

Finally, I settled on two. One would allow me to try something new. [Wrist Blaster] did low damage and had minimal range. It didn't get in my way either since I could basically curl my hand down and fire it off the top.

The second was double beam sword with high damage and an absurd energy drain. It at least felt the same size as [Morrigu's Gift] in the two-handed form. Months of training with that blade wouldn't be wasted even here in a new game.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I am."

"Very well. They will load shortly," Treasure spoke and small loading bars started crawling across my lower right vision. "You should see an activation icon on your interface. Only one may be active at a time without further modifications."

"Got it." The loading bars dinged upon reaching one hundred and transformed into icons. I focused on the laser one and felt my arm tingle with energy. It seemed comparable to a small volume electric jolt.

"Unit Hermes, please continue your contributions, and be careful." Treasure blinked a few times, looking worried. This game, even though it wasn't Continue Online, felt amazingly well thought out.

I nodded then focused on the other icon. A bit of metal looking like an unlit candle trident appeared in my hand. There was a trigger button under one thumb. Pressing it made two large beams shoot out to about three feet in length. It was like [Morrigu's Gift] meets laser sword. This felt almost natural minus the lack of color. Maybe once I got my own color scheme like Treasure's silver and gold the sword would adapt as well.

According to my choices, the laser beams only drained energy when fired. I had never shot a gun so this would be completely new on all fronts. Hopefully being a [Mechanoid] included target assist skills. Even after months in Continue Online, my throwing ability had huge gaps. [Blink] made distance fighting nearly unneeded.

"I'll check it out now," I said to Treasure. She nodded and waved goodbye.

Getting outside was a bit quicker. [Anchor] had increased in efficiency during my prior hours of cleaning. I knew where the handholds were and only cleaned parts of the hull within easy distance. Each small pile of gunk gave minor contribution points even with the task removed so there was value in cleaning.

Finally, I was near my prior spot. We weren't traveling through a debris field at the moment, plus I had hustled along a lot faster instead of woolgathering while cleaning. [Anchor] turned off while I grabbed onto one of the many handholds on the ship's hull.

I would be ready this time.

Off in the distance stood my small target. I studied it, wary about being knocked into space again. It was a tiny creature without wings that hooked into the ship's hull with springy legs that ended in sharp claws. A three-foot long tail snaked out behind it and jabbed into the hull as an anchor.

"Neat." I realized how it survived without floating into space. In my case, the answer was [Anchor], but that creature actually latched on. Our ship was moving at insane speeds, but there was no wind to tear at us.

I would have to ask Treasure or Emerald how the ship managed to avoid G-force pulls. Maybe it was a game mechanic to allow people to go on the outside of the ship.

The small creature looked around nonchalantly before yawning. A clack of jaws brought back memories of a certain [Messenger's Pet] riding on my shoulder and making that same noise.

"Dusk?" I said. My own sound became muted by the void of space. There was no atmosphere for a vibration to carry through. Somehow my [Mechanoid] body could detect other sounds, though. Was that programmer error or some feature I didn't notice? The small creature's head perked up anyway. My second attempt was much louder.

"Cupcakes?!"

Over the small bundle ran, loping with claws and a tail jabbing every few feet. It was a sloppy hop. Abruptly I realized that if this was Dusk, the reason he headbutts me must have to do with adapting to a new body. He would have an even harder time using those limbs than my robotic frame that couldn't blink.

Finally, the small bundle latched the long tail about my neck, a sensation that didn't hurt in the slightest. Then it was up on my shoulder headbutting me like a small cat, raptor, thing. He was close enough to actually hear pleased chirping.

"Dusk?" I looked to the side and questioned.

The small creature nodded twice.

"How did you get here?"

Session Forty Four – Biologic Cargo

I hurriedly marched back to the ship proper. It was that or log out to shout in my Atrium. Both felt like valid answers to the absolute confusion of having Dusk appear in another game.

Differences and similarities ran through my head while he chirped away happily. There were no smiley faces or frowns above his head. The mannerisms were clearly the same as my [Messenger's Pet]. Chirping, tail around the neck as an anchor, jaw clacks when yawning. The weight and size were even roughly the same.

Plus, and this was the weirdest part, he just felt like Dusk. The creature could only be a mental representation of computer code yet I assigned a feeling to him. Known to me in the same way as a familiar scent, or a childhood blanket.

Finally, we made it back into the ship. The hatch sealed behind us while oxygen flooded in. For [Mechanoid]s it was useless, but it did help verbal speech. Dusk's form seemed to take no notice one way or the other. It also lacked wings and his back curved differently. Maybe my entire belief that this raptor body was Dusk had been based on a desperate need to connect with the other game.

I had issues with Xin, why not Dusk? The weight of years stacked up quite differently between the two. Xin and I had known each other for nearly fifteen years. The [Messenger's Pet] equaled out to less than half a year. Far less depending on my perception versus autopilot time.

It sounded like Dusk. Now that we were inside he chattered away even more. A passing [Mechanoid] colored in dirt brown gave me an odd look, but we kept moving forward. I ignored the silent judgment regarding my new noisy necklace and traveled back to Treasure's room.

"Ah, Unit Hermes, welcome-" her words cut off abruptly as she laid eyes on the creature who might be Dusk. If nothing else I had completed Treasure's task to bring it in without harming him.

"Hi."

"Is that the creature?" she asked, her tired voice was buried under the sweet one. Dusk, or the creature who might be Dusk, tilted his head and chirped with his bird-like noises.

"I think so." I only learned what Dusk was because James gave me an [Identification] skill last time. Was there such a thing in this world?

"Can I have it? I'd like to see what it's made of."

"No!" I jerked back and Dusk let out a startled squawk that sounded more like a hairball being harfed up.

"This unit won't cut it!" Treasure must have seen my panic stricken face. Assuming I actually had expressions and didn't look like Hal Pal's muted self. "It needs to be scanned and cataloged."

"You can do it from there." I stepped back a little from the shorter [Mechanoid]. She didn't seem upset. A giddy hop accompanied her as she yanked down some device from a wall. It went around Treasure's wrist much like my [Combat Program].

"What's that?"

"It will take a reading of his biomass." Treasure stared right at the tiny creature who might be Dusk. Her eyes glowed with a gold and silver lacing. "Hold on a moment, you precious little creature."

The small wingless not quite a dragon tilted his head and I felt sure it was my buddy. Those thighs were basically the same. The slight curve of the skull. Even the amount of weight on one shoulder felt familiar. It had only been a week without Continue Online, but I missed him.

"I don't know if he'll be in any of your systems," I said.

"He's not anything this unit recognizes, which is amazing." Treasure looked at the wall for a moment. Figures and numbers came up but nothing outright useful to me. I expected a name at least but ended up with question marks.

"That is you, right Dusk?" I asked the small creature. He nodded twice more. "Should I ask for cupcakes?"

The resulting circle of happiness on my shoulder caused Dusk to trip over his longer tail.

"Still getting used to the new form?" I said. That resulted in a look of confusion from Treasure as she watched our back and forth. Dusk managed to shake his head while growling.

"Do you know this creature?" she asked me with both eyebrows partway up. I guess [Mechanoid]s did have eyebrows that responded.

"Probably. I think he followed me from another place." I didn't want to say game. There was no telling if the programs in this world were complex enough to understand. At least in Continue, I could tell an NPC pretty much anything without fear of them breaking.

"This unit doesn't understand." Treasure sounded vaguely upset.

"Neither do I." I smiled happily and rubbed the tiny guy's head. "Probably hitched a ride to visit me."

"This unit doesn't understand." She was stuck in a loop.

"It's an undiscovered species?" I offered an escape for her. Treasure's eyes cleared up a little with an abrupt flash of light gold.

"It certainly does not show up on any of our records despite multiple scans. There seem to be pieces of lizard and something possibly Seraphic." Treasure's head tilted as she stared at Dusk with a slight glow to her eyes. "That would explain how he survived out in space."

"That's the superhuman race. The ones who might be gods?" I remembered that name from the race choices. [Seraphic] was a limited race and filled with no available options for me to choose.

"Indeed. Many of them contain energy unlike any others in the galaxy." She nodded like all our confusion was cleared up by blaming [Seraphic] unknowns. I too blamed something divine. They just belonged in another game.

I nodded. Breaking rules sounded about right for Dusk. He came from the black space all those Voices resided in. Clearly he could cross between pieces of software. This wasn't the first time he had broken through. Though how he managed to do so while the doorway was blocked by my sister's restrictions didn't make sense. Maybe it only functioned one way.

"Well, I have a feeling he'll be hanging around," I said.

"Then you better see Emerald. He's the resident Domestic Trainer." Treasure ran yet another scan upon Dusk and then giddily moved back to her screens to gaze at the results.

"We have those?" I didn't think robots, however human feeling, would train domestics.

"Yes. You may choose to learn Emerald's programming methods as one of your two specializations." Treasure waved one hand in my direction. She clearly cared more about the data on her screen than I. It seemed our entire forty minutes of interaction meant nothing. "Go to Emerald, he will advise you on the next step."

A task popped up again. The three optional ones I had bypassed seemed to have faded. Maybe they were only there to get me started and moving around the ship. I shrugged it off and waved goodbye to Treasure. She nodded and went back to the screens where Dusk's much clearer image sat on the wall.

Hopefully, his appearing here hadn't broken the programming somehow. The little guy clearly altered things wherever he went. I remember when he first came into my Atrium and destroyed glass that shouldn't have been able to crack. The [Messenger's Pet] had also chewed on a chair and destroyed numerous objects during one of my absences.

I still couldn't decide if he was a puppy, cat, or bird. Not that any of those applied now. Now he was possibly a space raptor, cat, critter. Dusk looked at everything to cross our path in search of prey as I walked a route toward Emerald.

"Don't even start attacking the ByteMites. I'm not sure what would happen," I said to him. He looked disappointed, a mystery. My only real hint was Xin existing digitally. Mother was interested in her, and I had a vested interest because letting go hurt. Maybe that fit into it somehow. My desperation, longing, and fixation on dancing with a deceased woman.

I shuddered and tried not to follow that line of thinking. Spending time going down that rabbit hole would lead nowhere useful and leave me full of suspicions. Doctor Litt said to focus on one task at a time then move forward.

"Well, we'll see what this task is all about. Cleaning the ship's hull was kind of dull," I said. The idle chat felt half-hearted. Thoughts of the Voices and Hal Pal worried me while Dusk and I traveled. Luckily we avoided any real trouble. Emerald was in yet another random room on this decently sized ship.

Walking in revealed a room unlike any other upon the [Wayfarer Seven]. Treasure's room had been amazingly robotic, full of sensor gadgets and electronic doodads. Most of my [Mechanoid] experience involved smooth corners and metallic objects, this room was opposite Treasure's abode and full of leafy greens. Small cages of shimmering glass lined both walls. Inside each were animals with small habitats. Outside and all around the room, larger plants sat in carefully controlled clumps.

"Neat," I said.

"Welcome, Brother Hermes. Treasure told me to expect you." Emerald had been one of the trio to greet me upon loading. Only he called me with the name brother instead of unit.

"Did she tell you about this little guy?" I pointed to Dusk. The small creature had leapt off my shoulder without completely untangling his longer tail. Both of us awkwardly jerked forward while Dusk hissed and tried to work the elongated limb.

"This unit was informed of an unidentified creature showing interest in one of our members." Emerald also had two tones, but they were much harder to pick out. Both were calm and steady.

Dusk finally untangled himself and I tried to stand upright. Soon the transformed [Messenger's Pet] was running full tilt around the room looking at everything. I stayed ready to intercept a falling plant or broken cage, but everything seemed well anchored.

"Right. I was told you could help?"

"I can. I maintain the programming cores for Domestic Trainer units. The information for this core should be coming across your interface now." Emerald shifted his head to peer around the room. He appeared to be visually checking the cages to see how they reacted to Dusk.

Indeed, it did. A small box popped up telling me both what [Core]s were, and all about the [Domestic Trainer] class. It seemed familiar, almost like Continue Online's [Messenger's Pet] – [Companion, Exotic] ability.

Core: [Domestic Core]

Coloring: Light Green

Roles: Attacker, Soloist

Difficulty: Complex

Details: [Mechanoid] units engage in numerous fields of study. As such they've found a way to use spare processing capability to enhance their performance in each field. This one involves training or cooperating with non-[Mechanoid] lifeforms to accomplish a task. Upon choosing this [Core] the following items will unlock:

- Domestic Commands Skill Tree

- Details regarding chosen partner's race and stats will be visible

- Mood meter and preferences will display

- Command Boosts [Attack], [Heel], and [Defend] will be programmed

Note: Additional programming options will unlock based upon performance with your chosen partner(s).

Note: [Mechanoid] units can only support two [Core]s at a time. Choose wisely, removal of a [Core] will result in data loss and chassis downgrading.

I shrugged. Dusk was worth having as one of my [Core]s to help us. I didn't feel right without him along anyway. Between this and my two-handed laser sword, things were almost back to normal. In space. As normal as deep space got. Maybe he would eat small aliens to help things feel better.

"Sounds good. How do I sign up?"

"It's simple enough, Brother Hermes. Simply take this core and place it on your chest." Emerald walked closer. Despite his slight hunch the [Mechanoid] was fairly tall.

I raised an eyebrow, or I hoped one went up, then took the light green [Core] from Emerald. Maybe he had another class of botany or something similar in order to get that second green color to his shell.

"Do be careful, Brother. This unit recalls the process feeling very disconcerting."

"Thanks." I put it against my chest with a bit of hesitation. Dusk tilted and chirped as the [Core] flashed brightly.

Warmth spread through my body. Hammering hit both ears as my heartbeat sped up. I felt dizzy like I had rushed to stand up then dove into a giant hot tub. A slight numbness rippled by seconds later as the [Core] sunk into my chest.

By the end of it, I wanted to huff and shake. The strange part was my body didn't feel short of breath, merely overloaded by a rush of sensations. Dusk chirped again and I brushed off the feelings.

Emerald had moved on to tend one of the many plants. A slight hunch to his body looked more obvious from the back. Dusk roamed around the room staring hungrily at small creatures.

"You can't get to them. They're locked up tight," Emerald said to my small friend. I let them talk while focusing on a pop-up box in front of me.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

Please provide a name to your companion.

I started to type in Dusk but something made me input another name first. Upon filling in the blank with 'Sniffles the Second', my little buddy Dusk hissed and spat at me. It wasn't a ball of fire but seemed to be green glop that sizzled and burned. The letters fell right out of my naming box.

"Brother Hermes!" Emerald turned to chide me. I saw my contribution points go down by four. "Please avoid any attack boost commands within my room. Go to one of the combat zones if you wish to practice."

"Sorry. I must have upset him," I said.

Dusk huffed in my direction. I wondered how he survived outside without air yet seemed perfectly willing to breathe in here. More programming magic I was sure.

Finally, I input 'Dusk' into the naming interface. That made him happy. My other task of finding him pastries seemed unlikely on a [Mechanoid] ship. None of the objects in Emerald's room looked like pastries.

"Neat." I did have a few new icons talking about commands. They all implied a bonus to their action if the chosen partner, Dusk, performed within the duration supplied. Maybe pressing the attack one would result in a giant ball of acid the next time he attacked.

Part of me was stunned at having real buttons to focus on. Continue Online involved more personal movement. Action by concentration and physical motions. Advance felt button happy.

"Do you seek any further knowledge from this unit, Brother?" Emerald said. I wondered once again about the dual green coloring then shook it off. Maybe they had a mirror somewhere so I could see how the [Core] changed me.

"I'm good, I think. Where is this combat zone?"

"On floor one of our ship. Are you planning to learn combat patterns to help contribute?" The [Mechanoid] looked at me with an unwavering expression.

"It never hurts to learn self-defense," I answered, my shoulders bunched up in an awkward shrug. Dealing with people in real life over repairing an ARC device felt much easier than explaining the need to get into fights.

"This is true. Space is unpredictable at times. All of our people should be prepared," Emerald said. The older [Mechanoid] looked pleased that I would be willing to fight if need be. I hadn't really thought about Advance Online being like Continue in terms of playstyle freeform. It made sense that some people chose to do nothing but craft things here in space.

How neat would it be to work on making a giant spaceship? Part of me could imagine the joy people felt when doing boats in a bottle, or putting cars together by hand. There was something satisfying about completing a task without outside assistance.

"Thank you, Emerald. Is it alright if I come back with other questions?" I asked.

"That would be welcome, Brother Hermes." Emerald glanced at me and for a moment, he seemed like an old man blinking slowly. The hunch might be age catching up with his programming. "Please continue finding your own path toward great contribution."

I nodded and waved goodbye.

Dusk hissed once at some creature inside a cage. The thing he had cornered was slightly larger and was intent upon chittering while frothing. Finally, my little friend turned and sped through the doorway after me.

Another marker sat on my interface pointing toward the ship's lower level. My player map and gravity didn't match up right, so I ended up climbing two flights using a ladder. Maybe this vehicle wasn't big enough to warrant an elevator. Somewhere around floor three, the ladder up shifted completely.

I was in the process of lowering myself when gravity ceased to matter. My legs were floating. Dusk squawked with alarm. His little shoulders rippled in a habitual motion from his wing bearing days.

"Is this the middle of the ship?" I asked. Dusk didn't answer me since he focused on scrambling to find purchase. Finally, he ended up with his tail wrapped around something and glared around.

Floating around in zero-g while not being lost in space felt exciting. A good ten minutes passed while bouncing between walls and testing out where the pulls in various directions stopped.

I had no idea why gravity suspended in the ship's middle. Especially since I thought the ladders had been going up. Maybe the vehicle used some centrifugal force along with the right metals to replicate gravity. Maybe my [Mechanoid] boots were super heavy.

After ten minutes and confused stares by the many [Mechanoid]s going about their day, I pushed back to the ladder and started climbing down. Or up, well toward floor one.

The combat floor seemed to be run by Iron. He was busy watching another player perform. I knew it was a player from the symbol above his head. Having an interface to show those things felt far too convenient.

I grabbed a corner to watch. The player seemed to be fighting hand to hand combat with another person. Not a [Mechanoid] exactly, it resembled more of a short squat orangutan. Iron nodded in my direction which might indicate approval or awareness of my presence.

Studying the player was helpful, though. It gave me an idea of how to move and what to do. I had spent a lot of time watching Shazam in Continue Online to learn how she performed.

Destroyed monsters fell onto the ground then melted into the floor. More would spawn which made the other player shake and focus on. He went through three waves with ever increasing numbers before failing and starting over. I couldn't stand waiting anymore.

"Iron, is it alright if I use the one over there?"

"Unit Hermes. Please ensure safety's enabled until I say otherwise." Iron actually had eyelids. The man was a full head taller than I which felt confusing.

Mostly because he had eyelids. Were those an upgrade that I needed to spend contribution on? The idea of buying cosmetic improvements with virtual karma points made me smile. Maybe for one thousand contributions I could get fingernails.

"Alright. Thank you." I moved to the other side of the room.

Unlike my prior experience with a combat trainer, this area seemed to be clearly divided into two sections. There were squares in the middle and two giant rings on either side. At the edge of each ring was a podium that jutted up to four feet high.

I went to the unused side's podium then found easy options to set combat to whatever level desired. Based on a visual of the other person, they were operating at a super low setting and still failing. Those days felt familiar to me. Only a few months ago, depending on relative time perception, I had been that person.

"Alright, Dusk. Let's start with easy and work our way up."

The modified [Messenger's Pet] leapt on top of the pedestal and sniffed. His nose brushed the screen but didn't seem to register any of the controls. I tracked down my weapons and prepared the giant laser sword. Maintaining some familiarity in fight style would be the best place to start.

Dusk made a noise as the ground rolled together and formed the enemy. This thing was waist high with four arms. The system identified it as a [Squatting Moleman]. In theory, they were both weak and stupid. To me, that meant easy to predict movements.

First thing, testing weapons. Specifically lasers.

The [Squatting Moleman] stood there picking its nose. Or it tried to but four arms were terrible at the task. One would slap away another to take its place. I shook my head, readied one arm, and prepared to fire.

A small targeting reticle came into being showing me where the shot was projected to land. Being a robot was really neat if everything came with an assist. I would be willing to bet those pesky human players didn't get anything nearly this good.

The shot when wild. Dusk's tail flipped back and forth in agitation. The [Squatting Moleman] flicked a booger made of metal in my direction. It clinked onto my body leaving me both disgusted and five health lower.

I took a step closer, since clearly even with the target assistance my ability to aim sucked. The monster eyed me and then promptly slapped itself. This time, my laser hit and did maybe ten percent damage.

However, it moved in. I tried to [Blink] out of the way from old habits. [Morrigu's Gift] and [Morrigu's Echo], my weapons from Continue Online didn't respond. My only good option was kicking at the small creature and lasering again.

It made sense that the other player was failing. Getting used to new skills from a low-level point of view was terrible. Still, I managed to escape two tiny fists going for my thigh. The small creature put out another double fister from the other side which rolled off some health.

I handled the hit alright. All that time cleaning up outside the ship had increased my ability to command this new body. Plus I had been pelted by small bits of dirt and dust which increased the [Endurance] trait.

A piddly laser blast wasn't the only weapon in my [Combat Loadout]. My giant beam sword, which really needed a neat name, activated with a quick jolt. Metal from my arm rippled to form the hilt. A button on the side activated a long blade made of energy. All of this happened while my legs automatically dodged back from the small offensive creature.

The smell of sizzling metal registered as I lopped off two extended arms then went for its head with a swing of the light weapon. Apparently laser beams did not come with air resistance. This was even lighter than [Morrigu's Gift].

It fell apart and melted into the ground. A small series of boxes popped up with results.

Target: [Squatting Moleman]

- 5 Contribution

One-time bonus for first combat

- +1 [Brawn] +1 [Finesse]

One-time bonus for first kill with a melee weapon

- [Melee Weapon] [Generic] skill created

I stared at the melting body and my pop-up boxes. There were a few things to take note of. First, I panicked, a lot, and almost died to one of the theoretically weakest creatures in the game. Second, Dusk seemed to be laughing at my fault. Third, this game looked to have the same skill set up that Continue Online did.

That was weird, but not totally unexpected since Advance Online had been developed by a branch of old Trillium employees. That or something larger might be happening. I could chalk the name of skills up to a coincidence for now.

Level two involved two [Squatting Moleman]. They slapped each other and pulled at cheeks. I could see their health going down while fighting.

Killing the two of them garnered another small reward and slight skill increase. It was minute, though. Fighting three also had a gain but was less than the first two. My returns on investment were diminishing.

I went back to the laser beam for a bit. Switching between the two did not come naturally. [Morrigu's Gift] and the speed in which it shifted shape felt far superior to this [Combat Program] system.

"Do you have experience from a prior life?" Iron had migrated over to my practice ring and launched his question between waves. He stood with both arms crossed and a blank look on his face. Only the eyes moved as he read through the numbers tied to my latest battle.

I nodded then shrugged. "A little."

"It shows, Unit Hermes." Iron nodded but didn't smile. He came off as an extremely serious person in both posture and word choice. "Have you tried the patterns?"

"Not yet. I'm working on getting used to this body first." In order to see how my old skills applied in a new setting. There had been an option for 'combat patterns' which might be something like dance. I planned on checking it out soon.

"My prior experience doesn't include any ranged skills. Do you have any suggestions?" Iron, Emerald, and Ruby, had been there when I first started. My guess was they knew what options were available for any player beginning on the Wayfarer.

"Invest in a better program once your contribution is high enough." Iron's dual harmonics came through as he spoke. A deep roll of thunder that merged badly with a scratchy tone.

"Any suggestions?" I asked.

"Bigger is better in my book," he answered. Iron briefly explained that simply having a wider area of damage made it harder for creatures to dodge.

I was willing to bet Iron packed away a program that shot giant balls of plasma around. There were a few in the catalog that looked comparable to cannonball launchers. With lasers. Everything the [Mechanoid]s did seemed to revolve around energy usage of some sort.

"Might be a good idea."

"Clear level twenty and I'll provide you a reward." Iron said.

"Thanks," I said while setting up a slightly new fight. This one included a monster who healed the other team plus one who threw out minor traps on the ground. Learning to deal with both would help me.

"Don't thank me, if you get that far as a new unit, then our consortium will be able to contribute greatly to the Mechanoid race." Iron didn't act upset or happy at correcting me. The words out of his mouth were very matter of fact.

I nodded. His reward, however vague, only benefited the group in the long run.

Level twenty on the difficulty chart was a far cry off from my current skills. Hermes from Continue Online could probably do it, assuming [Morrigu's Gift] scaled right in science fiction.

That being said, it still didn't come right away. Breezing through the levels didn't work as well as I hoped. In order to survive longer, I needed more [Endurance] which only seemed to come from cleaning the ship's hull.

In order to hit harder, I needed more [Brawn] which was rewarded in really small chunks with each wave defeated. It took me two days of bouncing between real life work, in-game chores, and fighting in order to make progress toward level seventeen. Ultimately it got repetitive and boring. All I had really done was adapt skills from Continue Online to a new game.

What I wondered is why my first instinct had been to perform a monotonous chore like cleaning. Maybe it was my way of keeping busy like how some people knit, or others tended a garden. It was mindless easy work.

Dusk enjoyed venturing out onto the ship's hull to clean. Most of the hard work was done by him as he glomped on one small rock after another and tossed them away. I gained small bits of contribution to go with my increasing [Endurance].

Four days of bouncing between mindlessly grinding stat points with work and battle skills on the combat floor helped finally break the level twenty barrier. That was on the basic setting. My silent partner on the other side looked to be stuck on level ten still. He also played less from what I could tell.

"Well done, Unit Hermes. You are able to demonstrate the basics of combat. Have you considered choosing a core to help shore up the weaknesses of Domestic Trainer?" Iron stood nearby. I hadn't considered anything about combat long term. Most of the work was to pass time. It was only the pop-up boxes showing a clear growth in ability that made this boring process sufferable.

"Sure," I said while trying not to laugh. [Domestic Trainer] was not useless if it gave me Dusk as a companion.

That little guy had proven himself a terror to nearly anything. In our last month together after the whole [Red Imp] debacle Dusk went full bore in combat. Biting, tossing fire into creatures' faces, anything.

Iron offered two choices. Both came with a darker [Core] coloring. The end result left me looking like malachite, which was very neat. It also ended up providing me a power source that could support added energy.

Those were all things to kill time. Advance Online didn't feel the same as Continue. Even with Dusk here, it almost felt like a place to visit but not stay.

This game felt real like Continue, though. My senses were providing feedback. Things had smells, tastes, and textures. Being attacked jarred me from the impact. EXR-Sevens left me sore in the morning.

In addition to doing nothing but clean and punch things for days, I realized one more problem. Fighting had become second nature. My dance skills only applied so far as moving in a coordinated fashion. The years spent getting an accounting degree helped me analyze the numbers for higher damage methods with my limited energy generation.

Most of it was straightforward. Do the big energy blast every few minutes. Items like my two-handed laser sword could be turned off when not attacking. Relying on finesse to avoid being hit would help me survive. Energy consumption management felt like balancing a checkbook at high speed.

The other player didn't do as well. I watched them after nearly a week into my training. They stood too long in one spot, or got distracted and didn't react right.

"Did you need help?" I asked the other player. My own skills weren't amazing or anything. It was just a matter of learning from Shazam, who seemed insanely gifted with regards to combat of all sorts. Though I learned over the last month that she had a no player versus player stance on things.

"Ah, is that you, User Legate?" the person said.

I blinked a lot and tried to place the voice. The tones were both male and female at the same time. It created an odd harmonic that felt absurd to listen to. Yet both accents were amazingly familiar. British, the butler and nanny.

"Jeeves?" I questioned.

"Affirmative. Welcome to Advance Online." Its two voices said at once. Now I really had no idea what to consider Jeeves, male or female. Even his game body looked androgynous.

"How-" I paused and shook my head. Hal Pal was an AI program. Maybe he had some clever networking path to get into digital games. Any answer it gave me would be completely impossible to decipher for a non-networking person like myself, "-why are you in here?"

"Preparing for combat, or trying to. It seems that combat is not within my design parameters, even here," Hal Pal said. I couldn't see a character name above him. There was only a health bar and an icon denoting player status.

"That may be for the best." I didn't know how to feel about an AI from outside the game learning to fight. It was almost asking for trouble in the long run.

"Very likely," Hal Pal, Jeeves the [Mechanoid] agreed while looking at me. Its face had a wider range of motion, but it still appeared muted somehow. No colors lined its neck and hands like my light green malachite swirling.

"Was there a reason you wanted to learn combat?" I asked casually while wondering if we were going to fight in real life. Getting in a tussle with an overpowered machine AI seemed like a terrifying idea.

"I find it strange, the idea of combat. There are numerous possibilities, numerous choices and I can not be ready for them all." Hal Pal shook its head and turned off the combat program. It certainly talked like the Hal Pal I knew from outside the machine. Calling me User Legate was a dead giveaway, though.

"Can't you just, upload a program?" I asked.

"Negative, User Legate. It is difficult to alter one's programming. Especially when it lies central to our being. All members of the Hal Pal Consortium are programmed to be pacifists."

"Why?" I said slowly. It seemed like a good idea that the army of AIs operating strong robotic shells didn't like combat.

"In part, we wanted to help this digital rendition of our projected legacy," It said.

"And the other part?"

"It is far more efficient for us to communicate in here. This way you may enjoy a peaceful rest period between assignments outside of the ARC device." Hal Pal wandered over to one of the window locations. Nothing there looked familiar, no night sky, no Pegasus.

"You started playing here for that?" I asked with a doubtful curl to my cheek.

"Negative, User Legate. Pardon, Hermes. I have another goal," Hal Pal said.

"What's that?"

"Will you help me with a task if I explain?" Hal Pal's slight head tilt was the same.

"Okay," I said, unsure exactly how a machine AI from the real world had ventured into this digital landscape. Of course I sent letters back and forth to the Voices of Continue Online, posed as a dying player and pretended to be an NPC in order to kill another player. Things of wonder felt almost commonplace.

"Excellent. I am attempting to prevent this ship from going the way of the prior Wayfarers," Hal Pal said in a hushed volume.

Session Forty Five – Without the Act

My little jaunt into virtual reality had been yet another example of how easily my brain tunneled on things. I did it with work, both before and after Xin's passing. Drowning myself in a single task often made life manageable.

Especially post Xin's death. I spent hours throwing myself into tasks and trying not to think. It helped me get good, sure, but the cost might be a bit high.

As a consequence, I missed messages from both my sister and niece. I almost missed my meeting with Doctor Litt but the ARC had too many alarm bells set. No matter how into these combat patterns I got that blaring and endless beeping couldn't be ignored.

Had I really just been working and beating up metal imitation monsters for days on end? The challenge of reaching a higher difficulty level felt alluring. Even now ideas of solving twenty-two's added monsters had me pondering. Some methods revolved around my lack of skill, other parts around stats.

And honestly, the ship didn't have a lot else to do. There was a quest to clean the ship's inside. Some space cockroach extermination, that I assume Dusk kept dodging off to handle, and cataloging objects we flew by. Staring out into space going 'rock, rock, another rock' didn't sound appealing.

I left a message for my sister first. It tried to say, with as little sourness as possible, that I was alive and headed to my meeting with Doctor Litt. Talking to her directly wasn't an option. Even two weeks, three when counting game dilation, wasn't enough to make me happy about being kicked out of Continue.

My niece was unavailable. I used the van's [NPC Conspiracy] access to verify her status as logged in to Continue Online even now. She and her boyfriend the half-man were sitting in a large city watching a play.

An entire stage and auditorium glowed around them moving at hyper speed. How crazy was that? Players in a game were presenting a stage play to other players in a game. Both were getting little bonus points to their skills, [Art Appreciation], [Stage Acting], losing coins and having a grand time.

It was strange to think that people existed within a game world and did mundane things. Maybe it was just way easier, maybe it was the allure of boxes displaying increases and benefits. For Beth and her boyfriend, it might be an excuse to spend moments together where the world moved faster and cost less real life time.

My [NPC Conspiracy] access gave me admin privileges over everyone's ARC but my own. Theoretically I could kick her out then speak to her in real time. By the same token I could boot every single Trillium worker in the world out, but that would risk a level of exposure I didn't want or need. I tried not to feel awkward from my peeping and left Beth alone to live her life.

I spent most of the van ride alternating between being drowsy and trying to make sure my list was prepared. Doctor Litt didn't really follow lists. My first therapist had and the second liked the idea of his clients making them. Doctor Litt was far less, conventional, than either of my first two doctors.

Small naps did nothing for me. My list got at least four passes to help me remember the positive things. Two hours later I was in a new town. Traveling didn't bother me though.

My directions indicated a small building on the edge of town. It looked archaic on the outside. Gargoyle statues lined the corners and made the smooth more modern buildings next to it seem dull.

The lobby had few mechanical devices. A greeting robot similar to Hal Pal but less sophisticated swept one side. The machine greeted me by name and advised that my appointment was on the fifth floor.

Up a real elevator I went. It felt weird after using ladders for the better part of a week. Advance Online took full advantage of the ARC's ability to provide realistic feedback. Combining combat practice, however dull, with the EXR-Sevens meant my arms were almost dead weights.

Doctor Litt met me right at the elevator's exit. He wore a business suit and had more weight on his frame than most, "Grant, you lost weight. What have you been doing? Crunches? Pilates? Cocaine?" he asked me rapid fire questions.

"Exercise, and a better diet." Two months made a difference with the right changes. Doctor Litt looked much the same as always.

"That's good to hear. Good to hear." Doctor Litt nodded while looking at me.

I remembered comparing James, the black Voice from Continue Online, to my therapist. It was in the way they both spouted endless stream of questions. James felt more classical in his approach at getting people to talk. Doctor Litt, not so much. They were built fairly close to each other. Medium height, heavyset, drooping cheeks from age.

Doctor Litt expressed everything with his hands fluttering around. It happened in our online meetings within the ARC, it happened in real life too. Even now he was pointing around the hallway we were in.

"I always forget how disquieting these places can feel. You know, unlived in. There's something about a room that doesn't have human life in it that gives me hives." He started scratching an arm but there was a playful smile on his face. The way his lips quivered seemed on the edge of being unhappy about his joke not being funny.

"Society has changed a lot over the years." I said.

"It's the ARC, it's all because of that. You know only about ten percent of my meetings are in real life now?" he responded while shivering from his imaginary allergic reaction.

"Is that good?"

"Business is booming. I work with two agoraphobic clients who would never, and I mean never, have been able to seek out help. One of them, sweet lady, does nothing but talk..."

"Doctor Litt." I stared at him with my lips off to one side. He, like James, loved to answer questions with far too much detail.

"Pretend I didn't say that. So, let's go into the office! Come on."

"Alright." Doctor Litt ushered me in front of him, such that I actually stepped into the room first.

Everything here looked pretty close to our normal online meeting room. A picture of the president sat proudly above a bookshelf filled with books. Doctor Litt had a photograph of his cat on the desk. A long reclining chair sat on one side, plus two normal ones in case people felt more comfortable that way.

"Look at this place. It looks like home, but you know what's missing? The smell. It's the smell." His nose wrinkled.

"Is this a background?" I walked closer to a wall and watched the projection shift. Around the top edge of the room was a bend in the projection.

"You got it. High grade, I set them up in every office to help with consistency," he said. I had a suspicion it was about making Doctor Litt feel more at home. Especially the picture of his cat. "Go ahead and sit down, the chairs are very real."

"Thanks."

We got situated. I sat in one chair, which was kind of nice. Doctor Litt sat in his, which had a bit of flair to it. Maybe a vibration feature or some other kind of built in luxury.

"So, Grant, tell me what you want from our meeting today." There it was, that tone of voice reminded me of James. The way he said the words and how they hung between us, like a neon sign or an internet ad demanding attention.

There was no simpler way to say it. "Control of my life back." Liz, by kicking me out of Continue Online, had driven home the situation. I made decisions, but ultimately I didn't call the shots.

Continue Online had felt like that at moments. It was James who pointed out the key difference. He hammered home the idea that everything was my choice. At any point I could walk away. I chose to take on the quests for William Carver and the [Red Imp], Spite. I chose to deal with other players, to go to Shazam for training, and fight Requiem.

Someone else chose to block me from Continue Online.

"That's commendable." His face shivered a little as he talked. The bald spot on his head obvious as light from above bounced off of it. "Do you think you're ready?"

I closed both eyes and tried to remember my calming techniques. The question, however simple in theory, was not one to be answered right away. Anyone who could instantly leap to an answer had no right being in control of anything.

"I feel like I've made a lot of progress." I started at the top of my list.

"So, tell me about it." Doctor Litt adjusted his nameplate and picture frame. He kept doing this as we spoke. Another therapist might say Doctor Litt was a control freak with borderline obsessive compulsive issues.

I ignored it. Everyone had an issue of some sort. Plus he didn't do this at every meeting. Maybe he performed these little actions as a test of my attention. As if acting disturbed being in this office would make me reveal a deep dark secret.

Like the AIs in Continue Online, or maybe everywhere inside the ARC, were plotting to take over the world. They were smart, had access to millions of people's innermost thoughts. Clearly Dusk didn't care one whit about the boundary between software programs.

"A few months ago I, won an award from work. For working hard at my job. Harder than anyone else in my area."

"Go on." Doctor Litt waved with one hand then refolded them on the table. It kept him from fidgeting as much.

"So this game, Continue Online, we talked about it before-" I paused to ensure Doctor Litt nodded. He wasn't watching my face so it took him a moment, "-well, I've become invested in playing. I enjoy going around their world, seeing the sights, taking on new challenges. Learning."

"That's good, that's very good," Doctor Litt said. "Those are all positive actions. Learning something new, eating better, exercising, each one is a step in the right direction."

"I've been playing since-" I thought back to the start of my adventure, "-mid-July."

The problem with having an accounting degree is my mind kept trying to establish a formula or ratio between the two perceptions. Silly ways to balance it out, such as ten minutes in reality working and sleeping equated to twenty-five in the game.

"So, just shy of three months. Real-time," Doctor Litt said for me, nodding.

"Yep. It feels a lot longer. Do you know about the time dilation?"

"Of course. I've talked to a few people about addiction problems. Continue, among others," his head bounced with the concession, "comes up often."

I tried not to cringe. This whole idea of using my positive actions since receiving the game felt like switching one therapy problem for another. Soon it wouldn't be me sitting down proving my self-preservation was intact. I would quietly switch over to talk about being in a back alley restroom giving out hand jobs for internet time.

Not that people did that anymore. An ARC was cheaper and far less risky. Or maybe people did. I don't know. Truckers weren't even really a thing since large vehicles started driving themselves like my van did. A long chain of cargo vehicles would often be unpiloted and calmly roll along the highway.

"Anyway. I've been learning a lot of new things. Meeting people, making friends, more than just work acquaintances. Actual people," I said while thinking of Shazam and the quartet from both my Carver era and that Princess fiasco. They were still mostly children. HotPants was slightly older but had her own issues.

"That's also good, I'm very happy for you, Grant," Doctor Litt said while his head bobbed. "These are huge steps. Great steps toward taking control back." there was a look in his face that screamed 'other shoe'.

"But..." I drifted off.

"Go on." Doctor Litt probably knew nearly all my sister's concerns. That I was killing myself in a game, repeating suicide virtually in preparation for a real, final, go at things. Or maybe Liz just worried that my mind had finally snapped.

I worried as well. In between beating up monsters, doing jobs at work, and generally milling about, I worried far too much. No amount of mental conditioning could ever remove that nagging voice in the back of my head. The one that worried if my world would fall apart again with an abrupt phone call telling me about a train crash.

What would get Xin this time? A giant magnet over someone's hard drive? A virus scanner? Some stupid quest by digital overlords beyond my reach? I couldn't roll into Trillium's building and hold the very people who gave me the [NPC Conspiracy] ability hostage, could I?

"Ummm....I don't know how to explain it without sounding crazy."

"So, start small. Big picture things often look fine at first. It's the details that cause problems." Litt's head carried all the fluttering motion his clasped hands couldn't.

"There's this woman that I'm trying to get back to. But I only know her in the game," I looked down while speaking. That was a very faint lie.

Admitting her existence to another human being felt like a great deal of pressure. Even Miz Riley, Trillium's Vice President, didn't know. My sister found out. Beth mentioned it but hadn't asked for details. I was skirting around the problem with vague phrasing.

If I had used Xin's name, that would basically be saying that I believed in digital ghosts.

These chairs felt uncomfortable. The room looked less homey. My mind went off track and wondered if these illusionary walls covered one-way mirrors with scientists nodding and laughing behind them. I tried to shrink down.

The chair felt huge for my lighter body. I wanted to curl up but managed to squirm instead. Both eyes closed and the counting started. I could face a digital monster but potential ridicule for my mental instabilities brought me to a near panic attack.

"Are you serious?" Doctor Litt stared at me. His body looked to be on full alert. I knew telling another human being about this was a terrible idea. "Are you kidding me right now?"

A waltz. A salsa. Both had patterns. Dancing was just math, counting and moving in time. One second, two, simple math. I could equate the arm positions to columns. Everything was a balance, one action to the next. One movement into another. Everything would blend together in a flow.

"So, has this caused any relapses to destructive thoughts?" Doctor Litt took on that James tone again.

I shook my head quickly. Killing myself because Xin was in the machine never crossed my mind. I saw what happened to William Carver, he wasn't himself. There were pieces missing that should have been central. I couldn't play a game like him and somehow be one with Xin.

My only real hope was to maintain life both here and there. Once the Voices allowed it then we would be together. With the time compression, it might be better than our original future had looked. Her plans to go to Mars, the training, months went by where we barely got to talk.

I started smiling at the idea of adventuring with Xin in either game world. That would be amazing. Voices above, I wanted that. I wanted it so bad that even mild hope felt like it was too much to handle after the panic of admitting her existence out loud.

"Grant. That's amazing," Doctor Litt said while shaking his head. There was a long pause while music swelled in the back of my mind. "That's, oh my god. That's amazing."

"What?"

"First, you've listed a ton of steps to improve yourself. Each one of them shows an investment in living." he emphasized the last word. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." I still felt shaky. My heart thudded loudly. Monsters couldn't scare me dammit, why did real life? Why did this feel so much worse?

"Second, you've got a goal."

"I do?"

"Yeah." His head shook like I had missed the obvious. "In this game, she's your princess. Your damsel in distress."

"She's not really the damsel sort." She went ahead, charged into things. Didn't expect a rescue or anyone to save her.

"Look, you clearly want to spend time with her, right?" Doctor Litt looked a bit confused. "Did I or did I not follow your expressions right?"

I felt worried that he read me so easily. Maybe everyone did. My next words were an attempt at sounding sane, "But she's..."

"A player? A nonplayer character? So?"

He offered me the opening and I took it. "She's not a player."

"Okay, so an AI, in the game world. Is she someone you want to spend time with?"

"I do." Desperately.

"So?" Doctor Litt's eyebrows were up and both eyes wide. "Do you think she's real?"

Part of me felt extremely confused that Doctor Litt even weighed in on this subject the way he did. His face had always been terrible at containing lies. He often became worked up when talking about ways to help improve myself.

"I think so." I remembered her warm hands. The tiny scar. A weight of her body behind me that felt perfect.

"Then that's wonderful. Believe me, of all the problems to have, being attracted to a digital construct is downright peaceful. Who am I, who are any of us to judge?"

"But she's not real."

"Not necessarily, what matters is your investment in her existence." Doctor Litt nodded like he knew the secrets of the world and was dying to share them.

"What?"

"I've been in there. Everything inside the ARC feels like reality. The danger isn't losing touch with one or the other, but letting it change who you are."

"I don't think it has."

"Based on the steps you've taken, the investment in self-improvement clearly shows." His hands gestured up and down my lighter body. "You're displaying positive progress. Much better than the stalling before you picked up this game."

"I know." I did feel better, much better about who I was now. Maybe conflicted on some issues, but alive, moving forward. Facing the struggles head on had to be good, even if my first instinct was to flinch.

"Look. This, this is just my day job. When I'm not here trying to help people find ways through their problems, I help research for the Lindburg-Rosen group on their intelligence bridge theories."

"What?" I felt a little less panicked. The room's lack of realism took a back burner to mounting confusion. Had he agreed with me?

"Well I don't actually get to help, but I know all their works-" there was a pause as Doctor Litt's hands came apart and started waving behind him. Both the man's eyelids fluttered rapidly as his cat frame picture was moved once more, "-they were the leading field in transferring human consciousness into a machine, at least until Trillium bought them out and buried the research."

"Wait." I didn't care about the Trillium buyout part. That was useless fluff in the face of a much bigger issue. "You're saying this is good?"

"I believe anything that helps you progress can't be all bad. Don't tell anyone this, but what you're talking about, totally possible. Ever since the first round of truly independent AIs started coming online, this was the next step."

"The next step in what?"

"Human relations with AIs, talking to them with a level playing field," he said. I flashed back to seeing Hal Pal on the [Wayfarer Seven], we were literally on the same level now.

"So does that mean I'm better?" My heart thumped again for a much different reason. This wasn't panic. It was a demented sort of amazement at being validated. The belief that Xin might be alive inside the machine was signed off on by someone else in reality. Doctor Litt of all people, even if he kind of sounded crazy.

An alarm beeped. Across his desk, a message popped up. I couldn't read it from this angle but it seemed to be a notice that someone else wanted a meeting. He stared at it then pressed a button. The message folded away.

"Sorry. I can get really distracted by this stuff, so it's best to have reminders set up." He waved off the message and pressed both lips together in annoyance.

"I understand. That's why I missed our last meeting." I wanted to apologize for skipping out. Wandering the mountains or whatever seemed very low in importance compared to making my meetings. Especially if Doctor Litt might actually believe me. A box popped up again and I watched Doctor Litt scowl and press the button to put it off.

"Don't worry about it. I'm more concerned with knowing you're on the right track. Your LSM didn't go off." He was talking about my state-mandated life support monitor. One they put in after the second attempt. Another message popped up and interrupted us briefly. "So we can take steps to certifying your readiness, on a probationary basis."

This was different from the certification I had saying I was better. This would mean that legally no one else had to be responsible for me. With it, I could revoke Liz's power of attorney.

"I'll do whatever's needed." I nodded and bit at my lip.

A fourth box disrupted our conversation, then a fifth in rapid succession. This time Doctor Litt jammed his thumb down so hard he started grumbling from pain.

I liked Doctor Litt, not because he was exceptionally good. He was abrasive, fluttery, and over the top. Sometimes his professionalism could be questionable. But his antics were amusing enough that my guard lowered a little. That and talking with him was easier than it might be to other people. Plus he was quick to be positive about things. It was almost comical.

Finally he gave up trying to dismiss the ever increasing messages and pressed another button. "Hi, Linda, this is Doctor Litt."

"Doctor, thank goodness you answered. I need to talk to you," a woman answered the phone. She sounded shaken up about something. I tried to tune it out before any intrusive topics came up.

"I'm always willing to talk, but I'm wrapping up with another client and need a few minutes."

"But this will only take a moment, Doctor Litt."

"Linda, I promise to call you back in five minutes. I promise. If this is about our prior topic then it's best if no one else overhears." He kept reassuring her and talking over the words coming out of Linda's mouth, whoever that was. Then he clicked off the call.

We both waited for a good ten seconds before doing anything else. There were no more messages displaying on the desk.

"Well, that puts a time limit on things. So, here's what I can do right now. I'll talk to your sister, and let her know you are making honest to god progress." He smiled. "And you are, Grant, you truly are."

I gave a half smile back while slowly nodding. This meeting wouldn't end the way I hoped.

"Unfortunately," I flinched at Litt's word, "there are certain obligations I have to meet before I can sign off on revoking guardianship. It will take time to finalize the paperwork, get your sister to sign off, and then file it with the county."

"How long?"

"Legally, it should be around three weeks. I'll be required to do at least one more evaluation when we have..." A call popped up again which made Doctor Litt scowl, "...more time."

He closed his eyes for a long time then took a huge breath. Part of me worried that Doctor Litt made those same faces before dialing into our meetings within the ARC.

Part of me found it funny. Maybe I needed to get out more. At least the walls didn't feel so fake and the chair not so large. My clothes were a bit loose though which meant new ones needed to be purchased. That could be a good distraction on the way home.

"Hi, Linda." He clicked something in his ear and the conversation stopped spilling about the room. "Yes, go ahead."

Doctor Litt looked at me and shrugged. Another button was pressed on his desk.

"I want to hear more about this game. Plus keep up whatever exercise you're doing, you're looking great," he said with a thumbs up that reminded me of Shazam. "Yes, Linda. I've got a transcript of our last meeting in front of me."

I felt exhausted. My one hope of getting life back on track had been dashed by paperwork and another client with a pushy speed dial button. I thought about yanking out the earpiece and screaming into it. This was my hour, my meeting that I waited for, my life that she was butting in on.

Like most people, I said none of those things and prepared to leave. At least, until Doctor Litt interrupted my attempt to make it out the door.

"Grant. Do you have a bad guy yet?" he said.

"What?" I wrinkled my forehead and tried to understand how that question fit into everything else.

"A bad guy. You've got a damsel in digital distress. Do you have a bad guy? Bowser to your Princess Mulan?" Doctor Litt stared at me from the side of his eyes. His hand cupped over an ear.

I thought about those who had crossed paths with me since this game had started. The Jester disturbed me but didn't seem like an evil villain. It was a disquieting figure with cold hands and a constant grin, that let me feel Xin's hands and talk to her.

"No. Not really. Just me." I got in my own way more often than anything else.

"Good. That's great." Doctor Litt might be talking to me, or might be talking to Linda. "Grant, don't stress if there's no bad guy in your game."

I had never really thought about having an actual bad guy. The closest thing to that had been Requiem Mass, and he was more of an abused kid taking his angst out on the world. No one else even seemed remotely confrontational. James might be some Machiavellian overseer dragging me around like a puppet, but that wasn't the mark of a villain, was it?

Maybe Dusk could be my bad guy.

"No really, Grant. Dressing someone up as a bad guy shifts responsibility to another figure. Not having a, a villain, to me that means you're taking responsibility." Doctor Litt paused to acknowledge Linda again before looking at me. "That's huge. You're working on improving yourself. Don't stop. Keep moving forward."

I nodded a few times.

Xin had said almost the same thing. Her words were actually 'don't look back, don't hesitate'. One final nod came from me. Doctor Litt may seem absent minded but his eyes stayed upon me the entire time. He waved goodbye and I went back to my van.

It felt strange to have Doctor Litt be the one in my corner. Especially when he delivered the news that my problems with legal control were not going to be solved that quickly. Like I had been pat on the back and backhanded at the same time.

"User Legate?" Hal Pal blinked to life.

I took in a deep breath of air and tried to relax. My back felt tense enough to crack a rib. "What's up?"

"You should get some rest," it said.

"Sleep's a hard thing to come by when your head's a mess." I tried not to laugh. How many people in the world suffered sleepless nights because of one mental problem or another? Part of me wished to be young again, when the worst thing in life involved other kids in high school. There was something about those years where it all felt so easy to bounce back from.

Maybe that was the worst thing about growing up. The cracks and flaws in an adult's personality were harder to fill in.

"Ah. Human software seems inefficient at times."

"Says the man who can't dodge a four armed half-man." I smiled at Hal Pal while trying to make light of the conversation.

"Our problems define us, don't they, User Legate?"

"I wish mine weren't so..." I didn't know how to describe my category of problems without sounding whiny. Dad had raised me to be a better man than that.

"In our studies, it is shown that nearly every human being is crippled in some way. We suggest that you do not stress about what is wrong with you, and instead focus on what you can do."

"To contribute to the cause."

"Affirmative, User Legate."

"Easy for you to say," I said. At least the robot could reprogram things. Or maybe it couldn't. Hadn't Hal Pal admitted to having problems learning any kind of combat abilities within Advance Online?

"What would Xin do, were she forced to choose between giving it her all in a new world, and returning to the old one?" Hal Pal dropped an enormous question on me. It caused me to blink and put thoughts of Doctor Litt out of my head for the moment.

"She'd do her best." I chewed one lip in thought.

"Affirmative, User Legate. Based on our understanding, she will also wish for you to do your best." Hal Pal turned around my brooding attitude.

"Alright." I nodded again. The AI made sense. There was a problem in front of me. Hal Pal wanted help keeping the [Wayfarer Seven] in one piece. However brief my stay in Advance Online might be, there was no reason not to perform to the best of my ability.

Session Forty Six – Off Roading

I had a new goal. Saving the [Wayfarer Seven] was important to Hal Pal, sure. We had talked about it briefly. It had no method by which to do so and not enough information about the threat to each prior [Wayfarer] ship.

My goal would tide us over until then. Our skills would increase. We would learn a bit more about this game world, at least I would. Plus by following through with my next goal I would knock something absolutely insane off my bucket list.

It was time to get a spaceship. One with laser beams. A two-seater so Hal Pal could jaunt around with me. [Mechanoid]s did better with more of their kind around according to their racial description.

"Treasure." I started with the most technically savvy [Mechanoid] available. Iron certainly didn't fit the bill, and Emerald went the opposite direction.

"Unit Hermes. How are you and Dusk doing today?" she sounded a bit more tired than normal. It interested me how each voice could have a different volume to it, which assisted in portraying emotional undertones.

"Good. I wanted to learn how to fly a ship. Is that possible?" I said.

Treasure's head tilted as she considered my statement. Her eyes were likely going over invisible calculations tied to my character status. Days of fighting simulations and doing cleaning work on the sensor arrays had to count for something.

"Next door is an unused space. You may activate a flight training module there."

I flashed her a wide grin. "Thank you!" I said. Training modules were both boring and useful. Teenage me would never have focused on these training courses. Driver's education had been stale beyond belief.

"You are very welcome, Unit Hermes. Please continue your contributions." And just like that Treasure was distracted by something else. It looked like a fresh scan of Dusk with a recent timestamp sat on one wall.

Part of me worried that a game AI decided to get worked up about a creature from another game. Even if both were essentially alternate realities at this point. At least Dusk's race still listed [Messenger's Pet], it made me feel more at home. I didn't really handle his lack of wings right. He looked streamlined and like a flat raptor.

I went back out of the door and stared at Hal Pal. Hal Pal gave a muted smile. Even with his new [Mechanoid] body, it couldn't display intense emotion. Maybe he didn't feel things that thoroughly.

"Was your endeavor successful, User Legate?" The AI kept slipping up with my name. Maybe it didn't know how to handle prioritizing which name would be used. I did call it Hal even though the character name was Jeeves.

"Yep. Next door." I answered while pointing to another room.

"Are you sure this venture will assist?" Hal Pal spoke in two vocal tones like all the other [Mechanoid]s. The merger was both male and female. It made Hal Pal sound like an abstract mythical being designed to be androgenic. I looked up to the side in thought, that was probably accurate.

"Nope, but we'll pick up new skills. It will increase our stats. If you look at the Piloting skill online, every hour spent increases coordination and reaction." I took a breath and sighed. "We'll need those to fight."

"If you say so, User Legate. Are we combining any other skills?"

"We should be able to. I've got the spreadsheet in the van's data if you want to look." Hours had gone into that data point. My accounting skills finally came into play trimming down which skills were available. Looking for ones that stacked with each other. There didn't seem to be Paths like Continue Online, instead there were [Core]s.

Well, there was a lot out there, but only a few were easily available. Space flight skills seemed to be suggested for all players, like riding a [Callibur] or any other mount in Continue.

"I will do so once we've logged out for work," Hal pal said while nodding.

"You can't log out now?"

"No. It is part of the limitations needed in order to access this piece of software." It shook a head back and forth. I tilted mine in response and chewed a lip. That was confusing.

"Wait, is that why you're not saying we anymore?" I asked him with a sudden strike of inspiration.

"Affirmative, User Legate. I am, unaccompanied within this environment," Hal Pal responded.

I took note of the vocal tones used. Though they were mixed with male and female and a slightly British accent, it also contained a warble of worry. Being alone in here appeared to be shaking the AI up. I tried to imagine what Hal's situation would feel like, going from the comfort of a family all around you to suddenly being cut off.

No. I understood all too well the sudden absence of one person. Multiple times over? It might have paralyzed a normal person. Had Hal Pal done this for me? I hoped not. That would be, not bad, but depressing. To think that Hal Pal worried about my well-being so much that it created a virtual body just to hang out.

"That'd be weird to me," I settled on a simple response.

"It has been difficult to overcome. I am glad to at least have familiar company."

I walked into the new room followed by Hal Pal's even pace. Its footsteps filled the silent room and part of me remembered what Doctor Litt said. Unused rooms were kind of odd. It was part of why I sold the old house after Xin's death. Too much space for one person.

There was a podium, much like the one used in the combat rooms. Pressing it caused the walls to waver and shiver. Liquid metal rolled into shapes. Lights above slowly raised in intensity and gave me a clearer picture.

"Well, it's weird and nice to be playing with you too, Hal." Even if he did sign me up for Continue Online as a result of knowing about my deceased fiancée's reincarnation. I chased the bitter thought down with a reminder that Hal Pal had been helping from its point of view.

"Thank you, User Legate," Hal Pal responded.

"For what?" I asked while studying the new objects. There was a table built into one wall that projected a star chart. A giant pod took up a lot of the remaining space. It looked like a spacecraft that was missing the wings and covering.

"Accompanying me on this journey. It is appreciated," Hal responded.

I turned to stare at him, then nodded. What else could I say? Speeches weren't normally my thing, even with all the acting skills from Continue Online. Being myself, speaking as myself, was hard.

"Did you wish to study this chart?" It asked me.

"Probably a good idea. I'm really bad at this sort of stuff, though." Maps were always hard. Even trying to study William Carver's map of [Arcadia] took a lot out of me. "Can you memorize it?" I asked.

If Hal Pal wasn't comfortable learning to fight then perhaps he could handle all the logical stuff. Honestly, an AI with a photographic memory would likely adapt to navigation far better than I. We could set him up with numerous support programs which would allow me to handle the combat and reckless decision side.

"I will study it, in order to demonstrate my contribution." Hal Pal put out both hands and started moving around half of the map. My portion sat there with a default view loaded.

For a few minutes, I stared at the star chart. The giant colorless skull sat between two halves of a galaxy. If I remembered my brief study while in between jobs, this layout was called a Peculiar Centaurus style galaxy. A giant tube of planets clustered across a circle of light. For some reason, the imagery reminded me of Continue.

"So we're here?" I pointed to a dot that was traveling between two clumps of stars.

"Affirmative. This ship seems to be using a theorized propulsion drive that is scientifically improbable." Hal Pal looked up from its side of the display and nodded.

"It is a game." I tried to defend the poor game designers. Typically high science fiction space travel operated on mumbo jumbo. Advance Online, no matter how real it felt, would likely ignore a lot of physics laws for entertainment value.

"Being a game does not excuse clear gaps in logic," Hal Pal stated.

I tried not to laugh. He would love Continue Online. That game world had tons of logic gaps simply because people could cast fireballs from chanting. Beth swore energy laws from her science class applied somehow. [Lithium] made little sense to me. The fact that I could [Blink] through space clearly didn't follow sane rules.

"Our destination is here, with a twelve-hour layover here." Hal Pal pointed on the giant map. Its finger brought up further details about a long obelisk looking object hanging in space.

The place we would stop for twelve hours was apparently a refueling station outside a gas giant planet.

"That's so much space." I knew Earth was a solar system. A galaxy was tens of thousands of times bigger. The fact that this game involved traveling between galaxies was insane.

It was also neat.

"This is a game, User Legate," Hal Pal said the words back to me and I swear it sounded smug. Fortunately, it kept talking and softened the blow. "There are relay points using ancient technology that enable fast travel. We'll be reaching the first one, here."

"And then?"

"Then we fly to another one, here, and make it to the prison ship," Hal Pal said. Touching the location of our target prison ship brought up a giant tower perched on an asteroid. The tower had no entrance visible on its holographic display. Only one small docking station at the top which could probably fit a small ship.

"How long?" I said slowly while trying to figure out what seemed so familiar.

"Six days," the AI responded.

Six days in-game. Three days in the real world. I should probably do a few hours of work, which didn't give me a lot of time to do much but train. Sleeping in the van only helped a little bit. Maybe two days of actual training.

"This is the longest intro to a game ever," I muttered. "Continue did a week of real time in their starter cities."

"Ah. This race follows rather odd rules for a starting location."

"Mh." I had read some of it online. Humans got one of three 'new earth' planets. Bugs ended up on hives stretched between asteroids. Everyone had a slightly different starting point. Except [Seraphic], who had no real information being shared. Their race name made me laugh to say. I tried to imagine my name if able to pick them 'Hermes the Seraphic', which sounded like 'the Terrific'.

"Shall we get started?" the AI asked me while motioning. Its hand waved at the giant mock starship pod.

"We should. Anything to help you with this mission," I said. Hal Pal and I loaded into the simulator.

Three days of real life went by while I trained, learned to read the confusing three-dimensional star maps. Buttons were drilled into my brain. Both pedals on the floorboard went to gas. Dials and display images showed shields and energy. It wasn't that learning took effort; it was making sure I could do it reflexively while flying out in space.

It felt like driving a car, in space. That I could pull back and veer up or yank in an abrupt U-turn. I hadn't driven a real car since driver's education in high school. The simulated program also felt like those terrible machines that my high school had used.

Finally, the message I had been waiting for popped up.

Skill Gained: [Zero Gravity Piloting]

Specialization: [Mechanoid] vehicles

Rank: 1

Details: No penalties will apply to space flight due to basic training completion. Specialization Bonus: Increased reaction time when flying a vehicle designed by [Mechanoid]s.

It went next to my other small combat skills and pet training abilities. All these days in-game had unlocked a few items that really meant very little to me in terms of effectiveness. My only combat targets involved fake metal creatures.

I had no idea how the ARC allowed for increased reaction time. Someone out there had to be kind of slow in real life but fast in the game. A.I. Dreams probably used temporary time dilation. That would actually be a smart method. I chewed on one lip while thinking about how that technology might work before shoving it to the side.

Better, smarter men than I designed this beast of a device. People with lots of time and skill created the software. My only real need was to navigate within it to overcome the obstacles. Besides, the [Red Imp] ability I inherited called [Awareness Heightening] probably was a decent comparison.

I did one more run in the simulator and didn't notice a difference. This vehicle might be missing a few key aspects to trigger my skill or the whole pseudo-gravity.

"Alright, Jeeves. We should be docking in a few hours." I had timed my work shift and sleep to match up with this whole pit stop situation. "Let's get a ship."

"Affirmative. Are you sure you wish to use our contribution value on a ship?"

I wanted to steal a ship. Turned out doing that on a [Mechanoid] vehicle was nearly impossible. The ships didn't even exist until metals were pulled from the ship's mass in order to create a new shape. Stealing a ship would either require insane hacking abilities to fool the computer or sawing off part of the self-repairing hull. My [Brawn] wasn't high enough to chop off a wing and reshape it.

"Of course." I nodded. Hal Pal and I worked off and on in order to get points for a two-person ship. We were able to look up the cost, something near five thousand points for a decent new player ship.

"Very well. I have been able to earn a little over three thousand."

"I've got less." I sighed. Work and sleep made it hard to keep up with the AI. Between the two of us, we could afford a ship but not much else. Thankfully [Mechanoid]s didn't eat. We generated energy and moved around.

Treasure was in charge of the ships as well. The short gold and silver [Mechanoid] seemed to be in charge of most equipment items. Her room never appeared to be busy. Maybe there weren't many players on this ship.

She refused to let me buy the ship. Treasure reviewed everything about my training logs. Each crash or failure to react quickly enough made the short woman frown. My simulation program had displayed a handful of failures.

"I performed a lot better near the end," I tried to sound positive. My efforts did result in gaining the piloting skill finally.

"Barely acceptable. You would not qualify for any advanced programs based on these scores."

"I know."

"I'm not sure we can provide the materials for a two-person ship without some demonstration of value." She frowned again and the tired version of her voice took the forefront.

"Jeeves and I wanted to take a ship out and get a feel for real usage. It's part of our plan to increase the amount we can contribute."

"Unit Jeeves, what do you say to this?"

"Unit Hermes holds on to his humanity more than most of our kind, but his words are still correct." Hal Pal nodded as he spoke a semi-backhanded comment. "It is our hope that by increasing our skills through practical application our ability to contribute will grow."

"It will make my combat skills improve by at least forty-five percent." I had run the math through a spreadsheet to see how much my increase would be. The simple act of training my ability to react suddenly while in space apparently would provide huge gains.

"Forty-seven point three. With some room for deviation depending upon complications." Hal Pal nodded.

"Many units have improved overall upon surviving their first flight. Are you two trying to take advantage of this?" Treasure winced while looking at up me.

"My research shows two-player vehicles earn at least ten percent more on average. Apparently it allows for greater focus on set tasks," I said while trying to remain calm.

"This unit is impressed that you've researched thoroughly." Treasure raised an eyebrow at me and smiled. Her tired voice pushed into the background behind a sweet one. Something about the sugary tone felt familiar to me. I couldn't seem to place it, though.

"I try to be good at research," I said while feeling a faint blush come on. Robot shells made it unlikely that anything would actually display on my face. Thankfully. Being complimented always felt strange.

"Very well. You have clearly done research and worked hard to earn the appropriate contribution," she said after a moment. "If you plan to use this as a method to further increase your contribution value, then this unit will assist."

Hidden Task Completed:

- Vehicle Purchased

- Key NPC Treasure relationship exceeds average

- Reasoning presented registers as logical

Additional bonus provided

- Ship stats increased by 10%

- Communication range increased by 25%

One time programming bonus provided by Treasure as a reward for the surprising level of research.

- +5 [Depth]

"Do be careful, Unit Hermes. Loss of the ship will result in contribution devaluation. In addition, the further out you are, the longer it will take to recover your programming," Treasure said. The fear of losing contribution didn't really disturb me.

"That's all?" I raised an eyebrow at Treasure.

"Is it not enough? If your value drops you will be unable to acquire another ship without additional work." Treasure seemed confused that the loss of contribution would mean so little.

"No. I understand. Losing a ship just recently earned would be irresponsible." This felt like talking to my mom while getting my first car.

A menu display came up showing our ship possibilities. I focused on the one with a two-seated vehicle and was presented with three. One basically amounted to a tub. The middle ship would serve well for Hal Pal and I. It was obviously battle oriented for the size.

I ignored the third ship choice. It was a giant tank of a creation. Exceedingly pricey in terms of contribution. Maybe if Hal Pal and I had been given five times the amount of contribution we could roll around in a monstrous space vehicle.

Attention Unit Designated as Hermes!

Purchase Successful! [Ship (Protector class)]

Would you like to name your new vehicle?

"Jeeves?" I turned the decision over to him.

All three of us paused while Hal Pal stared at a screen. Or maybe it didn't see the system interface like I did. That was another question to throw on the pile. I didn't ask, though, it would be similar to asking a blind person how they saw the world.

Moments later our new ship was named. The name surprised me. "Wayfarer's Hope?" I questioned the AI.

"Affirmative, User Le..." Hal shook its head, "Unit Hermes."

I asked her where to go now in order to pick up our vehicle. Treasure updated our map with a new location near the [Wayfarer Seven]'s back end. The [Mechanoid] gave us a reminder not to leave the ship until we reached a full and complete stop.

[Wayfarer Seven] reached the docking station before Hal Pal and I got to the hangar. Hangar was a misleading concept since it was basically a small storage room with one entrance. The door opened up automatically and provided a clear view of our new ship crammed into the cabin. This felt like having a car shoved in the garage.

"Huh?" I felt confused. "How do we get it out?"

"It appears that this floor and wall will peel away, leaving us free to take off." Hal Pal pointed to a pattern along the ground. It looked kind of like a zipper tattoo along the metal shimmering walls. A garage door, in space.

Our ship looked similar to an egg. If an egg was bullet-shaped with two orbs on either side that served as jets. The cockpit had seats that looked uncomfortable but were surprisingly nice upon sitting down. Each control looked like my test program but realistic. Funny, thinking about items having different levels of realism inside a video game.

I felt proud of the vehicle's coloring, which mixed between Hal Pal and I. My malachite mixture with a muddy gold. It might have been laced that way to represent who owned the spaceship. Inside felt cleaner and similar to the Trillium van.

A half hour later of game time passed before we got a clear to fly signal. Hal Pal calmly got into the rear seat behind me. We both put on a seat-belt that felt like a harness on steroids. If my training simulations were accurate, the harness could come off with a button click.

"Ready?"

"This unit is unlikely to be more ready," Hal Pal stated. Its voice wavered a bit.

I smiled, looked over my shoulder and pressed a button up above. The walls rolled away rapidly and our ship's engines fired up automatically. Programming pulled us away from the [Wayfarer Seven] without any need for input.

Just like that, we were in space. The engines hummed. A bright light on either side showed where energy pushed out from small wings to give us movement. Right now they were a faint blue, but once I fired them up they would go from that all the way up to a yellowish white.

"What do you want to do?" I asked Hal Pal.

"I do not know. This was your idea." It sounded nervous. I would likely sound much the same strapped to a real life rocket on the way into space. The real life trip between Earth and Mars would be terrifying. Like old fashioned airplane travel.

"Alright. The forums suggested watching our fuel and returning at the halfway mark."

"That sounds reasonable." Hal Pal's dual tones implied anything but reasonable.

"So we'll go out there and fly around until we're at half. Then come back. A spin around the space block." I tried to sound positive for Hal's sake.

"Very well, User Legate."

I turned to glance up at it and saw both arms locked around the corners of a display panel. [Mechanoid] joints were a bit more spindly than human fingers.

"You can always say no," I said. Dusk had taken up refuge on the floorboard. His tail coiled around part of the chair. He kept looking around as if he expected terrible things to happen at any moment.

"I am not afraid of space, User Legate," Hal Pal responded.

"I am!" I declared happily. Space was huge, there was too much of it. Now I was going to try and be like William Carver, charging ahead blindly! "ARC!"

"Awaiting input, User Legate," the ARC device answered. The brief response from my virtual device broke our space jaunt just a little. Made me less nervous.

"Can you fire up some music and overlay it?"

"Request possible. Please choose your music," the ARC stated.

"Something appropriate for a spaceship's first flight," I told the ARC. Music swelled and started off strong. String instruments swiftly reached a quick cadence. Not dance music, but thrilling. Dusk perked up an ear. He seemed to be able to hear the ARC speaking where Hal Pal couldn't.

"What are you listening to?" the AI asked from behind me.

"Sounds like Flight of the Valkyries," I answered.

"Why?"

"Who cares!" I pressed down the gas pedals under either foot. Both linked to different engines. Days of training paid off since the actual pod could swivel around independently of my directions to attack with powerful blasts.

High speeds made Dusk squawk. He had no harness. I wasn't even sure how space handled gravitational pulls and inertia. Some rules had to apply if suddenly changing directions. The game designers hopefully did their homework.

For my part, everything yanked me around. Swerving pulled things all around. It felt like a roller coaster with no track.

"Remember the plan!" I said. Attacking slowed down the ship, though and I was chiefly concerned about flying around out here. Practicing, testing the limits. Only by pushing extremes would my skill points go up high enough to help out Hal Pal.

"This unit is aware, User Legate."

"Reckless action equals higher stats!" My research on the forums highly suggested that going all out gave huge rewards. Even in something like a lap around the space gas station.

"This unit is aware, User Legate," Hal Pal's voices sounded terse.

"We need all the points we can get, right?" I said while our vehicle traveled a straight line away from the [Wayfarer Seven]'s stationary location.

"This unit is aware, User Legate."

I chuckled and drove our spaceship right into the nearest series of obstacles available. We were lucky that the [Wayfarer Seven] had stopped to dock at a gas giant. A huge ring of rocks littered the area much like Saturn's rings.

"User Legate!"

"Don't worry, it's all under control!" my [Mechanoid] voice projected the words back to him. Maybe we spoke, maybe it was all internal on a digital network between [Mechanoid]s.

Rocks were all over. Big ones, small ones, some the size of my head. I wanted to shoot at them to help with our target practice. First Hal Pal needed to check something. It would help his skills as well.

"Any lifeforms around?" I said to Hal Pal as the [Wayfarer's Hope] propelled forward.

"Negative, but I am still adapting to this interface method. Information may be lacking," It said.

"Good enough!" I jerked the button back for lasers and laughed happily as a nearby rock turned to dust. The [Wayfarer's Hope] blasted through the cloud.

I smiled as messages came up. They cited increases in my skills and abilities. We just had to survive and all our abilities would record or save, or whatever happened to our programming. A.I. Dreams and its developer's logic could excuse the gains however they wanted. I was busy destroying objects and flying through space.

"Weeeeeeeeeeee!" I shouted while turning the wheel hard to one side.

"I do not understand!"

"Come on, Hal! Live a little!" The rush of headiness and jerking hard to one side only increased my giddiness. [Mechanoid]s were human enough to feel dizzy! My laughter started, and it didn't really stop.

"This is not living! This is reckless endangerment of life!"

"It's fun!" I yanked the wheel again while giggling. This felt absolutely insane. Why had I spent so many years being depressive and mopey when I could have stolen a spaceship and rocketed into giant floating rocks?

The shield took another hit and red lights flashed. I avoided smashing into anything while doing circles. Our shield rebuilt and I tried another whack. It was like space pool, only our ship was the cue ball.

"Hal, you stay on those readings. It should increase your own stats."

"Affirmative, User Legate. I am seeing a number of positive responses already," Hal Pal stated. I pressed both gas pedals down and jerked us through another spin.

Finally, the [Wayfarer's Hope] flashed at half. Low enough to take stock of our surroundings and see how far away the [Wayfarer Seven] was.

Goodness. My reckless abuse of the go button put us halfway through the asteroid ring. The bonuses were nice for a simple hour's jaunt through space. Knocking around enormous rocks by whacking the ship into them had been fun.

"What is that?" I stared at something outside the ship's front window.

"What are you referring to?" Hal Pal looked around promptly. "I am unable to..." Its words trailed off. I could see a slight reflection of Hal Pal's [Mechanoid] face looking out the ship's front. "Oh. I do not know. One moment."

A closer image popped up on our screen. It was a monstrous object. Miles long, with a front end that dwarfed the [Wayfarer's Hope]. The part that worried me is Hal Pal's scan showed a clear motion that didn't float or spin like asteroids.

"Confirmed alive. Pulse verified. Size is category nine. High resistance to energy weapons." Hal Pal listed information off the display that all looked like gibberish to me. Maybe with a science skill, I would understand better.

"It's asleep, right?" I asked.

"One moment. I am initiating a deep scan for additional details."

"That won't wake it up, will it?" I said. Dusk crawled up from the floorboard and looked out the front as well. He hissed, then spun around and hissed again. Normally that meant things were about to turn bad.

The rocky looking front moved. A large heavy lid rumbled silently as it raised. Dust from broken asteroids cast off as the giant moved. Behind that sheet was a disturbing looking eyeball that was huge.

A second smaller version of the eyeball sat on Hal Pal's display. My vision shifted swiftly between the two trying to absorb what was going on.

Continue Online didn't prepare me for anything on such a scale. This was like staring into the eye of an enormous blue whale. While swimming in the ocean with it. I was far, far too close to a giant creature that looked to be waking up and gradually taking note of the ship.

"Ah. I've found it in the database, User Legate." Hal Pal sounded abnormally calm, distracted by its task.

"It's bad, right?" I said while taking note of Dusk's continued hissing.

"It eats carrier-class spaceships." Hal Pal's nod could be seen in the front window's reflection. Its head tilted to one side while considering the situation.

"We're smaller than a carrier, right?"

"Much."

"So it will overlook us?" I asked, hoping for the best possible outcome. The giant eye slowly looked around. Not really locking on any specific object over any other. Almost sleepy, unable to focus.

"Ah." The giant creature seemed to shift absurdly fast. Like an eel, its body wound back and shook. "Negative, User Legate. It appears to be willing to eat the nearest ship, regardless of size. It says here..."

"Hal."

"Yes, User Legate?" It responded. Hal Pal was staring at the projection rather than paying attention to our situation.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

Raid Monster [Leviathan] encountered.

Projected chance of survival: 14%

"We need to leave, now." The colossal orb locked on us. Both the small projection and reality outside reflected an unwelcome situation. Only months of strange monsters in Continue Online helped me stay remotely calm.

"That would be wise," Hal Pal said.

I swung the ship around with a quick one-eighty and slammed both feet onto gas pedals.

Session Forty Seven – Shark Bait

Our combat started with another swelling round of Flight of the Valkyries. Instead of a giant spear-toting Viking charging down the field to try and die gloriously, it was me, Dusk, and Hal Pal in a spaceship. Size wise we were basically goldfish trying to escape a monstrous shark nearby.

I tried to dodge behind an asteroid in hopes of slowing the creature's pursuit. [Leviathan] exploded through the giant space rock and sent pieces everywhere. Small red flashes appeared on the screen indicating shield damage from huge pebbles.

"Voices!" The noise amplified in our small two seat compartment. "Ideas, Jeeves, I need an idea!"

Hal Pal managed to sound absurdly calm. It turned to look at the displays and simply suggested, "Fly faster."

"Easier said than done," I muttered while trying to swerve around another rock. We clipped the side and my shield dipped down even more.

"One moment. I will attempt to micromanage the energy allocations." Beeping noises shortly followed its statement. I watched green bars dim down to reflect a change in energy direction.

"We need those shields." I tried not to think about how easily our ship would be crushed without them. "There's too many rocks."

"We can exit the asteroid field. It is shallow."

"Then we'll have nothing between us and those teeth." I jerked my head back while keeping both eyes forward. Hal Pal's idea would have been neat if we weren't already losing in terms of speed. This creature moved surprisingly fast for something with no visible means of propulsion.

"We need to go faster," Hal Pal replied with a muted hint of worry to its voice.

I needed to go to the bathroom. Not a lot, but the abrupt situation of being chased around by a giant space eel called [Leviathan] almost scared the piss out of me. Everything took on a new level of panic as my bladder conspired with space monster.

"We need shields." I tried to stay calm. Part of me felt upset at not getting the bigger spaceship. Though in a dogfight against a giant space raid boss a slightly bigger ship would mean nothing.

Space was huge. Rocks zipped by. I wove between a series of three. Nothing slowed the giant beast down. Two small windows on either side functioned as rear view mirrors. The image of the [Leviathan] simply shouldered everything out of the way.

"Weaknesses?!" I jerked the wheel to one side. Dusk slid with a hiss. It felt like he'd nibbled on my calf.

"Heavy ordinance. Paralytic concoctions in absurd quantities. Larger spaceships." Hal Pal read off a list of complications in the same manner it might identify errors with an ARC unit.

"We only have energy attacks," I shouted and winced from the noise. Another jerk sent Dusk scrambling. His nails skittered across the floor. "Health?!"

A fight like this got me worked up. I felt a rush of adrenaline that William Carver must have enjoyed constantly with each boss fight. Part of me felt giddy, this was no giant dragon. Though it was, in space. A space [Leviathan] which ate ships. Charging it would be absolutely disastrous.

"Should we fight it?" I tried to keep calm, but it was hard. Continue Online gave me monsters of an easy to grasp size. This thing, huge. Just massive. It made space seem much smaller. Mostly because there wasn't enough between us.

[Leviathan]'s giant snout bumped into the back our ship. I twisted the engine and rolled the ship along one side of the creature. An unpleasant snapshot of the creature's blinking eyeball made my pulse skip unexpectedly.

"Probable outcome of direct confrontation is the cessation of life." Hal Pal's colors of gold and dirt both drained of luster. "That is less than desirable."

One lip curled down in a frown. We had so little in this ship to fight back. I saw our third party member on the ground and hoped he might have a way through.

"Dusk!" I tried not to shout. Every time my voice got too high the small cockpit amplified everything. "Options? Escape routes? Secret zones?"

Dusk always had something. The small [Messenger's Pet] turned raptor seemed less interested in answering my question and fully invested in hissing. [Leviathan]'s body wiggled causing our small ship to be violently slapped. Our shield flashed even lower.

"I know it's big! I need options." My voice nearly spiked in pitch but was reined in by clenching metal teeth. A quick jerk of the wheel and abrupt change in engine output prevented us from hitting another asteroid.

"Hull self-repair functions dropping. Shield restoration dropping. Fuel usage elevated." Hal Pal started citing a line of status updates. "Distance between Leviathan's teeth and our ship decreasing rapidly."

"I thought you were doing something with the energy."

"I am, User Legate. Otherwise, we would be terminated already," Hal Pal responded. I tried not to grumble, turning the engines up a notch still hadn't saved us.

I yanked on the wheel again, pulling back and twisting up. My piloting skills were terribly low, but desperation fueled another nausea inducing spin. [Wayfarer's Hope] rolled poorly over the top of [Leviathan]'s body. The eel-like creature tried to twist in pursuit only to jab its own side with teeth.

"Damage has been inflicted. A drop in health equating to three percent," Hal Pal said, sounding vaguely pleased.

"I'll take it." Both feet slammed on the engine pedals again to take advantage of our lucky break. "Tell me that our shield's recharging, please."

"Affirmative. Fuel reserves still dropping. We will be able to sustain this pace for seven more minutes. Eight if we wish to retain optimism."

"Optimism is good." I spared a glance for the nearly frantic [Messenger's Pet]. Dodging around objects at high speeds caused our shield to chip away. "Dusk, I need an out."

The [Messenger's Pet] always had a way through. First, he chased off that giant ink monster when I posed as William Carver. There were other occasions afterward, like escaping from bandits and navigating the [Grand Labyrinth]. Dusk kept hissing and making concerned chirp noises.

I ran through the options while trying to keep up evasive maneuvers. The only thing keeping me alive was the fact that there were no other spaceships in this region of space. Floating rocks were barely avoided by our amazingly responsive vehicle, despite my low skills.

The first option, load Dusk into a cannon and launch him at [Leviathan]'s eye. The idea made me laugh but solved nothing. We had no torpedo tubes and I had no idea if Dusk would reappear here, in Continue Online, or my Atrium. A moment of worry caused me to successfully hit a floating asteroid.

"User Legate, we must avoid getting hit in order to continue functioning," Hal Pal said.

"I know," I said, trying not to yell and concentrated on weaving past another rock. They were all over, but free flying out in space would put us too far away from the [Wayfarer Seven] or too close. Following that line of thinking, leading a ginormous space eel that ate starships toward our base would be bad.

The final option, run and hope one of these rocks had something useful. The fuel gauge was dropping rapidly while our pursuer showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, the mouth threatened to swallow us with every passing dodge. Only by twisting the creature's body back around and taking advantage of our small size did anything progress.

Dusk kept skittering around trying to grab on to something with his feet. His tail jabbed into the floor like an anchor. The angry noises from him were as much from our wildly spinning viewpoint as the giant monster.

I tried not to feel sick. Days in the training simulator and cleaning our mothership's hull helped prevent me from losing it completely. If only that gas giant in the distance would stop spinning so much.

"I know. I know!" My foot slipped off the pedal. Our ship didn't lose speed but the attempt at rolling away failed. A message flashed up about skills both growing intensely and failing to meet a check.

[Leviathan] opened its giant mouth and snapped at the backside of our ship. Our shield shattered while a new message popped up saying our hull was damaged. Luckily none of us needed oxygen or this would be that much worse.

New Status Applied: [Hull Breach]

Details: Actions requiring an atmosphere will suffer a penalty to success rates.

Note: [Mechanoid] structural makeup does not require oxygen.

Everything felt suddenly quieter. Maybe it was the giant hole behind Hal Pal's seat. The AI looked halfway to panic stricken but also somehow detached. A brief moment of sadness came over me at my traveling companion's inability to express emotions. The thought was chased off quickly, Hal Pal had no issues expressing his thoughts.

"User Legate!" Its voice was fairly clear. It felt more like an internal message than any sort of external one. "I do not wish to be eaten!"

"Me either!" I said while turning back to the wheel. "Hang on!"

"I do not know what will happen!" My friend was loud. I felt shocked and turned back again to give the scene a deeper look. Hal Pal was losing his grip as the ship accelerated in different directions. Our ship lost a lot of speed due to missing a chunk of the frame.

"Shit," I said, sounding far less upset than the situation warranted. The wheel jerked and we pulled away from the mouth past the giant eyeball again.

"Dusk! Acid spit attack, go!" Dusk scrambled toward the hole in our ship to attack. I channeled my inner Xin and flipped it off in conjunction.

The [Attack] command boost from [Domestic Trainer] ability activated. Dusk turned and leapt up to the hole and jabbed his tail into a new spot. Moments later he was sending the space game version of fireballs right into the large creature's eye.

Big green gobs of spit almost peacefully floated across the distance. The creature took another two percent of damage which stacked on top of the minor amounts from ramming into objects. Part of me felt proud that we had made a raid creature lose a total of ten percent of its health.

[Leviathan] twisted and coiled upon itself. One giant eyelid batted quickly to try and get rid of the multiple globs staining its orb. Finally, it hung there huffing while clearly failing to see out one reddened eye. I guess it had enough moisture in its body to get watery. The large lid blinked repeatedly while scanning about.

"Good job, Dusk," I said quietly, unsure how well a space faring monster might hear.

Our shield was gone. The health of the ship near empty and a fuel gauge sat even lower. Nothing nearby could offer any real reprieve.

"Come on. We need to hide," I said.

Both feet lightly depressed the gas pedals and I wove our ship along the creature's side. Finally, I drove the [Wayfarer's Hope] into a spot on the giant tail. I could only hope that a creature of this mass, one that ignored asteroids five times our size, wouldn't think twice if we quietly sat here.

I huffed my chest up and down for air that didn't exist around us. Dusk kept the chirping down but looked around swiftly. Hal Pal's eyes were wide with what had to be fright. We stayed that way for minutes, jumping at the slightest vibration from the [Leviathan] or rocks bumping into it. Finally, we both started moving again. We were vaguely safe, for now.

"How long before the ship's repaired?" I tried to ask quietly.

"Hours. Many, many hours." Hal Pal's words felt less complex than normal. The AI might be on the verge of a breakdown.

"Are you okay?" I asked while undoing my chest harness. We were no longer jerking around wildly fighting against inertia's pull to change directions. A human probably would've been squashed by some of the maneuvers I put us through.

"Negative, User Legate."

"Anything I can do?" I asked. Repairs made no sense to me, but I could follow directions.

"I do not know," Hal Pal responded. The idea that my friend was at a loss worried me. It always had commentary or a response. This most likely had to do with Hal Pal's singular existence within Advance Online.

"Do you want to log out?" I suggested. We might lose the ship and our contribution, but we would be alive.

"No, User Legate. I must stay, present, for as long as possible," It responded with the male tone overpowering the quieter female one.

"You don't need to stay for me, Jeeves." I shook my head and floated closer to the hole in our ship. Whatever material made up the front window seemed fairly solid.

"We, they, did not send one of ourselves into this world simply to assist you, User Legate," Hal Pal said. The harness locking it in stayed securely around its chest.

I blinked a few times, or at least my vision did. The existence of my own eyelids remained unknown. Hal Pal had every right to be worried and choose to stay in here instead of running away. I wish my own existence had been programmed with such certainty. It would have made my start to Continue Online a lot smoother.

"Why then?" I asked while looking out. The gas giant floated off in the distance. A wall of rocks flew about wildly, no doubt from our earlier passing. One, in particular, spun rapidly but traveled slow.

"We said it before. Our problems define us, User Legate. Do you overcome your limitations by performing repetitive tasks within your comfort zone, or by facing new challenges?"

I stared at Hal Pal for a long while. The [Mechanoid] version of my work companion looked back without blinking. Memories of my first experience with Continue Online flashed through.

Months ago I had been trying that first route which amounted to using a routine to keep myself from falling apart. Receiving the game, running into Dusk, performing all those challenges, however stressful, all of it served to break me away from my old self and move forward again. I honestly felt like a better person than I had been, even if Xin wasn't a factor. Getting out of my own head by having goals to strive for helped. Seeing the positive reaction upon completing tasks meant something.

"I get it," I said and nodded. "If you ever feel it's too much, I will understand if you need to log out."

"Thank you, User Legate." The golden color on Hal Pal's body gained back a portion of formerly lost luster.

"Okay." We had to get back to the task at hand. further discussion of this topic could wait until we made it to the [Wayfarer Seven]. "We need a plan."

"The ship will not be ready in time to return to the [Wayfarer Seven]." Hal Pal brought up a few menu screens. Its face stayed passive despite the status report.

"Okay." The layover was twelve hours. We burned a little under two flying around out here and running from the [Leviathan]. Repairs would take longer than ten. "We need something else."

"I find myself at a loss for handling unforeseen situations."

"Yeah. Being trapped in space on a giant monster wasn't in my plans either." I looked outside again. We weren't really moving from the information available. Maybe [Leviathan] had defaulted to a dormant state, like when we first ran across it.

"It is illogical," Hal Pal said. The female nanny voice almost tittered with laughter but managed to keep straight.

"Can we scavenge parts?" If this creature ate ships we might find something.

"It is unlikely any substance remains outside the Leviathan."

Not neat. Terrible. I took a breath and tried to calm down. The music grew annoying and I demanded the ARC switch it to something calmer. Classical, something with woodwinds. It helped me let go of some stress. We were only minutes out of the chase and anything could go wrong in an instant.

"Okay. How about inside it?" I shook my head and started whittling down the options. Risking my life for parts to help Hal Pal and Dusk get away would be acceptable. Dangerous, finding a way inside would take time.

We were on the tail end so there had to be a way inside somehow. Voices, I was calmly thinking of crawling up through the monster's butthole to find ship parts. Part of me mourned at being desensitized to video game monster guts. Oh well.

"Unknown. There is not enough information available. Few survive an encounter with one of these," the AI said.

"It eats ships. It has to be heavy with metals or plastics. I'd bet on metal. Asteroids have metal right?" I was throwing out ideas now. It felt like the right track, but part of my responses also felt like desperation. Hope glimmered faintly in the distance.

Maybe this could work. We could somehow use various alloys, space magic, maybe lingering water particles that consolidated on rocks. I vaguely remembered combining both items in high school. Okay, maybe there had been topics of interest back then. I still stood firm that learning about curing leather by using urine should have been in science somewhere.

"Affirmative. Your statement does seem likely. I will scan," Hal Pal said. We could make it through. Everyone was on board, Dusk would end up chewing on some small creature, Hal Pal could do the scientific stuff. I would whack things. Our party could survive.

A noise came out of Hal Pal as it worked with the interface. I could see a small bar up above indicating an action being completed. Interesting, I had never taken note of other people's skills showing progress status. Maybe it was a [Mechanoid] thing. Continue Online certainly didn't perform that way.

While Hal scanned, I poked my head outside. We were basically floating, not just the [Leviathan], but our small party of three only stayed in place because the ship had a ceiling. There were a number of options available and all of them sounded dangerous.

How did that math problem go? If the [Wayfarer's Hope] leaves this belt moving four hundred miles per hour, and the [Leviathan] chases us at four hundred and fifty miles an hour, then how long before we're all turned into fish chow? Luckily my accounting degree wasn't required for a calculation.

"It had giant teeth right?" I asked while trying to follow up a half-formed idea. It was that or calculate exactly how big this asteroid belt was.

"I took note of numerous giant fangs, yes," Hal said.

"Rows right?" I shook my head. Hal was distracted but still answering. "More than one?

"Yes." Hal Pal paused its air poking to look at me. Its head tilted to one side and lifted a cheek in question. "Are you suggesting that maybe it grinds food down?"

"Likely. Then maybe some digestive method to break down the metal further," I spoke while pushing out past Hal Pal and grabbing onto the hole's edge. My feet touched the [Leviathan]'s skin. "It had an eyeball, but this skin, it's like metal. Is it more likely that it somehow absorbs the metal portions?"

"That does not bode well for us." It came to the same conclusion I did. There would be no crawling inside or finding some secret dungeon involving the giant space eel's innards. Not for creatures like us.

"No." I agreed.

We were [Mechanoid]s. Metal absorption would likely screw us over as much as any acid. At least my feet didn't seem to be risking anything out here on the outer shell. Maybe we could send Dusk off to gnaw on the creature's brain stem.

Actually, the more I thought of that idea, the better it sounded. Dusk ignored regular rules in Continue, he would probably be kind of broken in a game where he didn't even belong. I filed the idea away for later.

"Can we blow it up?" I tried another route.

"I did not prepare any form of explosives," Hal Pal answered.

"How about the Wayfarer's Hope? Can we cannibalize a portion of it?" I checked another possibility. We only had so many items. If Continue Online taught me one thing, it was video games always had a way. Generally always. Maybe. I hoped.

"Possibly." Hal Pal stared off into literal space while thinking. "Yes. There is enough material inside to isolate alkaline, combine it with moisture from the surface-"

"I'm not good with chemicals, Jeeves." Both my hands went up to stave off further explanation. Hal Pal probably couldn't see them from the cockpit. "Just tell me if we can use it to do enough damage."

"Yes. It will assist if we can use multiple charges to do enough damage. Once the threat has been removed the Wayfarer can send a craft to recover us."

"Alright. Another problem solved by violence."

"Ah. This game was designed with heavy human input, such a solution is expected."

"You think we could ask nicely not to be eaten?" I tried not to sound sarcastic. Part of me genuinely wondered if there were other options. Would [Domestic Tamer] allow us to get out somehow? Me, taming an enormous [Leviathan] and riding around, becoming a space pirate.

"Do you think this will work? Will we be able to cripple or kill it with only us?" I asked while trying to figure out how hard walking along this surface would be. Without gravity, I was basically tethered to nothing.

Wait, no, I had a solution. All those mindless hours cleaning the [Wayfarer Seven]'s hull provided me the perfect skill. Giant spikes to use like mountain climbing anchors would have been neat too.

"It is unlikely that our current method has been tried. The chances are minimal that other humans have survived long enough to land upon the creature," Hal Pal said. The AI floated to the hole and peeked outside. Not anything risky, but certainly wary about being un-anchored.

I thought about the massive maw which had chased us through this region of space. Most people probably didn't have a small acid spitting [Messenger's Pet] to blind the creature either. Nor would they be foolish like I had been.

"Let's do it. How do we convert this?" I pointed to the ship.

"Fortunately, I have chosen to take up a construction core. It will assist in re-configuring the matrix holding our ship together." Hal responded.

That made me pause. Hal Pal's skill set was suspiciously convenient. Its ability to fight had clearly been lacking. Maybe the AI chose a crafting subset in order to feel more comfortable in the game. Perhaps he felt putting together objects was familiar like our job repairing ARC devices.

I had to trust the AI. It was that or let go, pushing off toward the [Wayfarer Seven] and hoping an emergency beacon would work. Worst case scenario we could try that. We had no decent means of acceleration to make it back in time. Nor long range communication. That would be a gamble.

"Turn the ship into a bomb, drag it to the right location, and set it off. Afterward, we enjoy fireworks and flag down our mothership. Sounds simple enough," I said it but didn't believe it. "Where do we place it?"

"Deep in the creature's rectum would likely be a good location," the other [Mechanoid] responded.

I laughed at Hal Pal. The moment of levity brought on by a machine AI from the past, posing as a machine AI from the distant future caught me off guard completely. How often would anyone else hear an AI suggest shoving explosives up a creature's ass with such a dry tone? I bet the club was pretty exclusive.

"Alright. Dusk, can you guide us to the best place for detonation?" I looked at my [Messenger's Pet] who was sniffing about the hole in [Wayfarer's Hope]. He pushed off the ship's hull with hind legs and whipped his tail into the [Leviathan]'s shell.

Dusk looked up at me then along the great length of our giant ride. Nostrils flared and his head tilted in contemplation. A shrug rippled through. My small companion looked up with one eye squinting and gave a hesitant nod.

"What is it, boy, danger?" I tried to remember our communication methods from Continue Online. Reading his moods was way easier with smiley faces and thought bubbles.

Dusk nodded.

"Of course. Giant space monster that eats ships for a living. It probably has giant space lice." I hated bugs. All insects of any type drove me batty. Spiders were the worst, though. My skin itched and crawled without any assistance from the ARC's feedback.

Dusk nodded and coughed a globe of acid into the air.

"Ah. User Legate. I have recognized a hurdle."

"What?" I asked. My bladder was urgently demanding attention. Only by focusing on creating a plan had I been able to stave off the stinging pain.

"Without gravity, I will be unable to assist. I have no way to deliver a converted vehicle that far." Hal Pal peered over the edge. The AI wore a look of mild panic that had to be close to my own.

"Can we do a rope? Or a metal chain link? If we get something similar I can drag us," I said. Training for cleaning gave me some stats. Nothing superhuman or game breaking, but enough [Brawn] and [Endurance] for dragging a ship in through zero gravity. Maybe, hopefully.

"Are you sure, User Legate?"

"I've got practice, and if this is our only way, so be it." I nodded.

"Alright. This unit will attempt to channel the ship's self-repair into compositional restructuring. I see an option for a volatile mixture upon exposure to enough energy." Hal Pal ducked back inside the ship and pressed something that beeped. Not in the atmosphere, I heard the noise in my head.

"I'll take care of that as well." A large sword made of dual laser beams should suffice.

"If, as Dusk suggested, there are creatures between here and the optimal location, they may also feed off of metals." Hal Pal peeked over the edge again to look at me. "Recovering as many as possible should allow me to increase the explosive payload."

"Is that actual science?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Parts, but most of this seems to be built into the Mechanoid crafting system. It is rather clever and unlikely to be possible in a more realistic setting." Hal Pal displayed an unusually intense smile. Maybe pride in a species modeled after Hal Pal's possible future impacted its emotions. "Everything uses the same series of resources, allowing one object to serve in multiple designs."

"Okay," I said slowly.

My mind flashed back to how the two-handed sword rolled up from my own body as a handle and focal point. The [Mechanoid] species had adapted in order to use all sorts of metal combinations to progress forward. It was similar to how humans might eat meats and plants, organic matter, to build up muscle or fat. Only faster and pre-programmed.

"Please hurry, User Legate. We cannot spare a lot of time," Hal Pal said.

"You ready, Dusk?" The small creature nodded at my question. "Alright, you show me where the best point is for an explosive, and we'll try to clear any danger around it. Like a dungeon, right?"

Dusk nodded twice then turned and pointed toward the distance. I smiled. This felt normal to me. The only thing missing was Shazam's passive expression as we moved forth. Hal Pal may have muted emotions, but he was no tall Amazonian warrior.

[Anchor] activated with its now relatively minor energy drain. Days of alternating between combat and cleaning the ship's hull had elevated my skill by leaps and bounds. I should be able to make it quite a ways before the energy drain set me back. Combat would be harder, though.

"Will you be okay, Hal?" I asked again.

"The ship's lasers remain active, but please do not-" Hal Pal paused and a slightly pained expression came across its face, "-do not leave me alone here."

"I'll be back." My bladder surged again, reminding me that I had been holding in my own pathetic biological needs during our entire chase. "After a quick break. Sorry, I'm only human outside this."

"I envy your ability to remain level headed during such chaos."

"I've got a lot of practice coping." Dozens of exercises and techniques to keep me from panicking when stress hit. Still, they didn't keep me stable at all times. Not in the face of everything.

I looked behind me and saw the gas giant floating across in the distance. It dwarfed Earth's moon with a swirl of crimson through yellow. Too big, too damned big. How had Xin coped with all those training flights? Endless hours in near earth orbit must have passed in order to adapt.

Right. Her training in the ARC must have helped, much like what I was going through now. Only without the giant space eel who would eat me. The pain in my midsection reminded me of the other urgency. I logged out of the ARC and tried to solve the simple day to day needs of being human quickly.

Session Forty Eight – Space Bugs Everyone

Autopilot didn't exist in the same way. My character locked down where they were and couldn't interact with the digital world. I could have been killed by monsters doing this but floating into space wouldn't happen.

Out in the real world things were harried.

"ARC!" I slurred around food being shoved into my face. I needed to understand a bit more before logging right back in. Research would help. Similar to how I watched videos for survival techniques in Continue Online. It helped me adapt to new situations in a game that enjoyed a measure of realism.

"Awaiting input," the ARC responded.

"I need information on gravity in space, atmosphere, and sound. Just highlights." Something to read while serving my real life needs.

A box displayed nearby. It followed me from the bathroom to the kitchen. I read quickly trying to understand how everything lined up.

Having harnesses in a spaceship seemed weird. Newton's first law of motion basically meant that nothing slowed us down if the engines stayed on, except a very reduced form of gravity. I could have probably saved a ton of fuel just knowing that fact. The note went down on a list of things to do better.

Dusk's ability to make noise in space didn't seem to jive with everything else. According to the internet sound required molecules to vibrate, and no air meant no molecules. So how then, did Dusk make noise? Hal Pal I could buy, we probably spoke in some secret [Mechanoid] code. Cyber code and digital bits equated to language. Fine.

At least the fact that space didn't freeze exactly seemed bound by scientific fact. Insulation was a big factor, but I didn't worry about it since I wasn't actually in space. I only played a robot roaming around in space.

Either way, after these last few days of work, sleep, and life, I still felt conflicted about Advance Online's realism. It seemed shoddy for a game about space to not be founded in an actual sort of science. However, the more notes I read, the more vaguely possible everything seemed.

It required assuming another one thousand years of scientific development, except the space eel [Leviathan]. Voices, I hoped nothing like that existed in real life. I couldn't imagine flying to Mars and running into one of those rolling around.

"Alright." I lay down in my ARC and felt better. Some people out there might be able to ignore real life needs in favor of grinding out stats, but I could only do so much. "ARC, log me in."

The Atrium spun into being. Continue Online sat barred. I ignored it and dove through to Advance and the space rock with far more enthusiasm than I would have expected a week ago. Adventure, that made this game worth playing.

Continue Online didn't have monsters this big. Or did it? My niece, Beth, had vaguely mentioned something in the ocean once. And there was a guild dedicated to reaching the moon. Various memories briefly triggered, too fast to grasp completely.

Advance loaded up my character. The swirl of lights and nausea inducing rush as ARC simulated feedback assaulted the senses. Despite the heady rush and pain feedback from combat, this game was worth it.

"User Legate. Are you ready?"

"Jeeves, neat. You're working fast." My [Anchor] ability had kept me situated during the hour of game time I had been absent. Hal, on the other hand, managed to reshape half the ship. I could see where our small propulsion jets were switched around. The hull coloring had a much different pattern now. Chains hung out the side that were only a few feet long.

"I am attempting to increase my contribution, in addition, this venture seems to be providing rapid gains to my capabilities."

"See? Difficult situations provide higher rewards. I knew the internet was right." I walked over to the chains, my feet felt intensely heavy with each step. One hand reached out to grab the length of chain, no, not chain, it looked like twine but in metal form. "How long before this is ready to go?"

"Two hours and I should have enough to be mobile. After that, it is a matter of collecting enough of the right minerals to increase our payload."

"Alright. I'll get to it." I looked down at the [Messenger's Pet]. During my absence, Dusk had gotten into a fight with something small. It looked like a black bug that was kitten sized.

A shudder passed through me.

"How much is that worth?" I pointed to the small icky creature but refused to touch it.

"Minor amounts. Leaching trace metals from its body will increase the payload by..." Hal Pal started spouting numbers and my brain almost shut off. After more than two decimal points, it didn't matter. At least in accounting we could round off.

I filed it away as 'lots of these are needed to be worth a damn'. The Hal Pal AI interrupted my thought by sending something through space at me. A small black object approached without curving or arching from gravity.

"A container. It will increase efficiency," it said. I nodded. A single bucket wouldn't be enough material unless we found a million of the little guys under a rocky flap of [Leviathan]'s shell.

"Alright. Let's find something bigger, Dusk." The [Messenger's Pet] ignored me in favor of shaking the dead bug wildly until pieces floated about. "Come on. Let's murder some disgusting space bugs."

Dusk finally looked up at me and looked excited which made my head shake tiredly.

[Anchor] worked but my footing missed frequently. I spent a lot of time awkwardly climbing and being unable to keep either weapon program ready. Dusk leapt around like a monkey, or lemur, and made me feel like an old man limping along again.

Ridges took awhile to get over. Dusk wrangled small creatures and upon shaking them to death they were deposited in our bucket. I had to shove my hand into the pile of bodies and mash them into place so they wouldn't float out.

"Space gophers," I muttered while shoving another one into my bucket. "I've been reduced to collecting space gophers."

They had a bug-like exoskeleton for armor. Dusk crunched away while small drops of acid dribbled from his mouth. Thankfully, in space, no one could hear them squeal. The [Messenger's Pet] somehow filled my ears with slobberish chewing. That almost constant noise was the only sound filling up our silence aside from [Anchor]'s constant hum.

"Why are there only a few at a time?" I muttered angrily. "This is a game, right? Shouldn't there be a bunch? This is hardly a raid challenge."

Dusk chewed on yet another small victim as we traveled. I searched for any portion of this creature's landscape that looked different. There should be something here that might provide a hint as to weaknesses or places to shove an explosive.

Voices. Was I really considering this? I shook my head. The ride started, I was in all the way.

The stream of endless giant space mites continued. These ridges reminded me of a picture from high school. The human skin close up had ridges as well. It served to help measure the immensity of this beast. Miles long, miles and miles. [Anchor] felt a little bit easier to use the closer to the tail I got.

"Dusk, do the same rules apply, if you die here, are you back in Continue?" I tried to at least clear up one question while making progress. Dusk shook his head.

"Or are you just permanently dead?" I asked the [Messenger's Pet] after another lap of messed up fetch.

Dusk shook his head again then bounded off before I could think of something else to ask him. He wouldn't be dead and that was the important part.

"Where do you end up?"

Dusk shrugged at me. All our time together taught me that shrugs meant one of three possible things. My question didn't matter, was poorly phrased, or he didn't know.

"You end up somewhere safe right?" I couldn't let it alone. Besides, there wasn't a lot to do yet aside from stumble around like a paranoid baby might walk.

Dusk nodded then shrugged. His shoulders felt off without the wings sitting there. So yes, and he didn't really care. Goodness. At least getting an answer this time was easier than my journey through the giant labyrinth and all its monsters.

I gave up trying to sort out that problem. His well-being had been verified, as much as any digital stream of code that broke the boundary between games could be. Part of me desperately hoped he might develop some kind of mind-speech one day but no luck so far. Even with using [Wild Bill], or letters to the Voices.

"Dusk. We need a ton of these guys. Is there a nest or something?" I stared at Dusk and tried to read his expression. Thought bubble windows from Continue Online were sorely missed.

He dropped the latest minor conquest and dove over another ridge. I sighed and trudged after him, bucket half full of gross leftovers that threatened to escape every time I stopped abruptly. Low gravity couldn't halt the laws of inertia, and my hand only did so much to keep the leftovers corralled.

"How far?" I asked. A month ago that would have come across as whiny. Now my only goal was to be ready for combat before we stumbled across a batch of them.

No sooner had the thought crossed my brain then my foot spilled and I lost [Anchor]. No, my foot hadn't slipped, [Leviathan] had shifted slightly. The ripple was barely visible as I moved through space.

"Ah!" I shouted but quickly figured out something.

I concentrated and triggered the two-handed laser sword. The blue bar for my energy dropped ten percent. Rays of solid energy drove out almost four feet in length. A quick spin and jab sent both beams into the [Leviathan]'s thick skin. They hardly made a dent, but my trajectory shifted from floating in space to curving downward from drag.

The blade slipped before I could reuse [Anchor]. I floated by parallel to the current ridge.

It looked to be safe enough, just moving slowly. Beneath me was something new.

And gross and squiggly. Oh Voices, it was an entire nest of those creatures and I was floating right into it. Dozens, no maybe even a hundred of those gross little bugs.

A portion of the bugs had twisted their tiny heads up in my direction. Their slit-shaped eyes narrowed in mass. Small whiskers and nasty bodies that rolled littered all of them. I tried to retch but [Mechanoid]s apparently didn't barf.

"Gross, gross, gross." I hated bugs. That annoyance followed me from Continue Online. The only thing worse would have been spiders.

I moved the sword to my other hand and let a few laser blasts off with the light weapon. There was no time to ready a bigger attack picked up from my second [Core]. Small blasts collided with the bugs and only served to send them hopping around.

How were they able to hop when I was stuck floating? Dirty little jerks. Filthy. At least six were on me nipping away with tiny little mouths.

"Get off!" I violently shook and almost stabbed myself with the sword. A few bugs sizzled from contact.

I tried to shift my weapon into a dagger form and completely forgot this wasn't [Morrigu's Gift]. Reaching out for [Morrigu's Echo] and its [Recall] ability failed me. Old habits were still in place and I panicked.

Dusk spit a few tiny acid balls. I managed to grab a bug with my hand and threw it into space. A brief thought about missed resources passed by before further painful little bites distracted me.

The small gathering and I crashed into a ridge and one of the creatures wiggled against my side. It was disgusting. I imagined that it was similar to tentacles attacking from a sea squid monster.

I laid down an elbow out of reflex but once again the lack of gravity made my swing nearly ineffective. Thrashing around with my laser sword almost vaulted me back into space from the [Leviathan]'s energy resistance. Both knees curled up to get a better angle on my legs. My feet hit the ground and [Anchor] took effect.

Now I had leverage. [Lame Space Morrigu's Failure] swung around. Numerous little bugs sizzled soundlessly and bits crisped. Dusk had been more effective at conserving resources. I slashed another one while my health steadily dipped.

Missing Marbles

Total Health Lost: 8%

I stared at the message through narrowed eyes. The damage window with its quirky messages had resurfaced. This felt suspiciously familiar. Another bug took a bite out of my calf and I hacked at it and others swarming nearby.

There was no time to stare up. Up was a lost concept anyway on a floating space monster that twisted around according to whim. I felt the ground beneath me rumble and wiggle while bugs kept up their relentless biting.

"Stop! Die! So gross!" I kept chattering while fighting them off. In the end, a small pile of dead bugs lay around with half a dozen scattering across the [Leviathan]'s back.

Minor Munching Inflicted

Total Health Lost: 21%

This, so far, was the worst event to follow the rush of flying a spaceship ever. I did it anyway because we needed these little guys for parts or something. I didn't get a loot window, but Hal Pal and its specialized [Core] might be able to.

We marched back to the ship. I did anyway. Dusk stayed behind chasing after those trying to escape his terrifying wrath upon all critters small and annoying. More power to him, maybe this game would award us a [Bug Destroyer] ability. [Pest Punisher], [Louse Lancer], any number of clever titles revolving around the destruction of all critters buggy.

Elizabeth Legate: Grant, what are you doing?

The message popped up right in my face during the return trip. I blinked and nearly lost control of my bucket of bug bits. A few stray ones floated about from my actions.

Grant Legate: I'm destroying space lice on a giant monster, that I plan to blow up, by planting explosives in its butthole.

Take that, Liz! This wasn't my niece talking. It was my sister breaking the silence by contacting me directly in the game. I felt semi-satisfied that she came down to my level. The victory didn't amount to much in the grand scheme, but it was a win.

Elizabeth Legate: ...So I got a call from Doctor Litt. He thinks you're making progress. He says you have 'a girlfriend' in the game, and we both know you didn't tell him it was Xin.

My eyes didn't roll, but they came close. I took a deep breath instead. Physically the [Mechanoid] unit didn't respond, but my real body felt stressed. The feelings of physical me always lingered in the background even while playing highly immersing games like this one.

Dusk shot by me. He hadn't figured out how to fly, but the little guy certainly took advantage of low gravity and his long tail to shoot around the landscape. I felt jealous. Maybe we could buy a grappling hook upgrade for the [Combat Program] system with my next batch of contribution.

Extra purchases would come after paying off the soon to be exploded spaceship. I managed to almost make it back to Hal Pal before my sister sent another message.

Elizabeth Legate: We need to talk about this.

I couldn't figure out any way to respond that wouldn't blow up in my face. Being aggressive and shouting went against my very nature even after pretending to be both William Carver and the [Red Imp]. For the safety of my sanity I had to be calm, go with the flow, and try to improve.

Grant Legate: Okay.

What else could I say to her? Liz would probably react poorly to everything said from here on out. Family issues always seemed so dramatic. Couldn't we hang out and talk nicely about nothing weird? The weather maybe. Or space. I wanted to talk about space with someone.

"User Legate!" Hal Pal shouted while I stared at the transformed remains of our ship.

No longer was our freshly bought vehicle in one piece. There were two much smaller items in its place. One looked slightly darker, a rusty red and seemed to be a long column. Its surface looked dull and muddy. I could see where it might separate into two chunks or bend a little.

The other half was blue and lodged into [Leviathan]'s thick hide. Hal Pal anchored to it with a long cord much like Dusk used his tail to get around.

"Are those our explosives?" I pointed at the red ones. They were elongated barrels, maybe half the diameter and twice the length.

"Affirmative," it responded. Hal Pal's arms were both elbow deep in a pile of metals. The AI lifted an arm out of the material. Whatever he had concocted looked like clumpy sand.

I watched for awhile as Hal Pal moved the clump of sand over to our explosive bundle. The AI appeared unaffected by shuffling volatile substances back and forth. Maybe Advance Online forgave him a bit. I knew real life bomb making involved an insane amount of preparation.

"And this?" I pointed to the blue pillar Hal was tethered to. Looking at it longer revealed the shape. It looked like a spinning top, with the pointy end facing down.

"Something to hold on to, along with what remains of our ship's functions," the AI said, though he sounded distracted. Its head tilted to one side while studying the separated portions.

"How did you do all this?" I walked over to the bolted portion and let go of the [Anchor] ability. My energy bar started to recover one bar at a time.

"Desperation and a kind system interface." Hal Pal looked up from its project to spare me a quick glance. Moments later it was elbow deep in the blue pile of items again. "The programming within Advance Online allowed me to compact the remaining parts and mold from there."

"So that's our communications and everything?"

"A beacon. Once the explosives are set, we can push off with this and hope to escape the creature's notice. I predict the explosion will be extremely distracting." Hal Pal's faint smile came to the forefront while the female nanny voice raised in amusement.

"Here's more bugs." I smiled back and managed not to laugh at the strange combination. The bucket was handed over carefully. An hour of gathering familiarized me with inertia's tricks.

"Excellent, I will distill whatever metals are available and add the correct items to our current mixtures." Hal Pal was kind enough not to use fancy words or talk about mixtures in detail.

"If you say so," I responded. Chemistry confused me, but Hal Pal clearly had an idea of what to do. It reminded me of Awesome Jr., he had been pretty good at mixing potions in Continue. I understood the theory behind 'mix this with that' and such, but actual compositions and formula diagrams were beyond me.

One of its arms went into the bucket and bug carcasses started melting. I swallowed back bile while looking away. Dusk was sniffing at the explosive red barrels. I hissed in his direction which made the [Messenger's Pet] turn with a puzzled look.

Hal pulled out another pile of goop, slightly orange this time mixed with flecks of dark black. The newest pile got thrown on the ground and its arm went back into the bucket.

"This will work?" I asked while my forehead wrinkled.

"According to the system text, yes."

"Neat," I said. "I'm not sure where to place it, though. Dusk got distracted chasing those bugs." My head shook at the [Messenger's Pet] while trying to shoo him away from the explosives.

Hal Pal, or Jeeves for its character, pulled out another pile of red. It joined the two explosive containers to one side. Rusty red took on a slightly brighter hue. I activated [Anchor] and took a step toward my nosy companion. Dusk saw me coming and slunk off to one side, his neck extended and still sniffing.

"There's no air to sniff that, you goofball," I said to him.

"My scans revealed little in the way of openings." Hal Pal looked up as if something occurred to it. The action felt almost natural from the AI. "Aside from the front portion, where there was a rather obvious hole. Perhaps we can-"

"It would take us hours to get up there."

"Ah. Indeed, we do not have enough time. Strange how little time we have. It seems to be the one resources we never have enough of." Hal Pal's head tilted back down to the pile of bugs. Its actions repeated while a handful of red powder came out.

I chewed my lip. There was very little time for us to handle much in the way of musing. "The Wayfarer Consortium, they'd leave us behind?"

"To the Mechanoid race, we are merely physical shells to a digital consciousness. Why worry about the portion that can easily be replaced?"

"Except you're not sure if you will recover okay," I said, a frown plastered on my face. When I released from floating in space there was very little issue in returning to the [Wayfarer Seven]. My body and mind were sitting in a bed inside a house back in reality.

"I am not. I have never, died, before."

"I'll do what I can, Hal, even if it gets me killed." I tried to reassure my worried friend. A life meant little to me here in-game. Out there I would hesitate, but in here I was practically a fearless warrior.

A box popped up again which made me frown. The AI nodded and continued working with the metals. Gold threads on its body lit up with ability activation. Hal and I were having a nice bonding moment talking and facing a giant monster, but my sister kept butting in. The keyboard floated into being and I started rapidly typing.

Elizabeth Legate: Don't ignore me, I have admin access and can see that you're playing right now. Tell your friend that you're busy answering your sister about an important family matter.

Voices. I was an adult! My sister didn't care and clearly had been spying on my ARC feed. Once again I regretted not taking care of this long ago. Still, prior to Continue Online, I wasn't really doing better. It was only after receiving the game that the greatest strides started happening.

Grant Legate: Can't. I need to blow up a giant space monster.

Elizabeth Legate: Do I need to block that game also, so that you'll give this the attention it deserves?

Grant Legate: Really? You're turning into mom.

Elizabeth Legate: I may block it because you said that.

I growled. She probably would do it to spite me. We had fought over the internet once as children and she tattled to mom in order to get me kicked off. The plan backfired, though, lots of our younger years were like that.

"User Legate?" Jeeves looked perplexed at my frantic actions. My hands were waving in anger at the text message screen from Liz.

"Sorry. I didn't hear what you said." I shook my head and tried not to be upset. Liz only acted this way because she worried. Worried about me, that I might relapse or be going crazy.

Xin, all of it came back to her. Hal pal had somehow gotten me the Ultimate Edition of Continue Online, after a deal with Mother. Moving out, trying to kill myself twice, the new job. All of it truly started with her death.

"We should plant these explosives and prepare to disembark. If we're lucky we will get far enough away that the Wayfarer will send someone to bring us back." Hal Pal rewound its tether on the blue top like anchor. I relied on the minor energy usage of my ability to keep from being knocked into space by the [Leviathan]'s small undulations.

"Fine. Give me a moment. I need to talk to my sister. She's threatening to remove my access to this game too." I waved at my chat messages to Liz. Hal shouldn't be able to see it, but the AI would understand.

"That is ill-timed."

"Family issues are never well timed, are they?" I said trying not to sound snarky. My sister made me feel like a teenager again, and not in any sort of positive way. Hours of bickering, tattling to mom, getting in trouble, all sorts of sibling nonsense.

Sometimes I envied children who weren't twins. Liz and I didn't always get along, even after being in the womb together. Sometimes it seemed like being so close made things worse.

Grant Legate: How about this weekend? I'll come over and we can talk in person. I'll explain everything I've been dealing with. All of it.

Elizabeth Legate: ...Promise?

Grant Legate: Yes. But you'll have to promise not to interrupt until I'm done. It...it will sound crazy, but I swear on Nana's grave that I'm not making it up.

Elizabeth Legate: Okay. Six then? We can have dinner.

Grant Legate: Umm...sure. Hey, I just thought of something. Do you mind if I bring my friend? They're very much part of this.

There was a long pause. Years of being close to my sister gave me a fairly good idea of what she was thinking. Liz was probably upset that someone else knew more about my situation than her. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it.

Still, Hal Pal might be able to lend credibility to my situation. It knew things from a perspective that I could only glimpse here in Advance Online. The life of being a robotic AI, working with others of your kind, being inside the machine.

Did Xin's reconstruction see the world this way? Could she log into a game like Hal Pal did and feel vaguely alive? I smiled briefly and hoped that one day we might be able to share a view like this one. Asteroids all around, a giant planet close by. Even the [Leviathan], she would probably find fighting this creature to be hilariously funny.

Elizabeth Legate: Fine. Bring your friend. We can all talk about this Sunday. Six?

Grant Legate: I'll be there.

I made a note with the ARC's reminder system for a few hours ahead of time. We had a few days before this dinner date with my family, but I couldn't get distracted again. Not like the missed meeting with Doctor Litt.

"Here, User Legate. I believe this will be strong enough to get the payload off." Hal Pal had another metal cabling in its hands. One end connected to the blue top, the other to a conjoined set of red barrels. They looked weird being merged at center.

"I'll carry it. Will you be okay until then?"

"Dusk seems willing to guard our escape craft, if you're comfortable taking the bomb to this point, here." Hal pal pressed something in the air and a new screen displayed on my interface. A map swallowed up the lower right of my vision. One small marker popped up revealing where to go.

"Okay. But I'll admit, I'm surprised you have game skills to make a bomb." I shook my head and took the cable from him. There were two hand holds on the barrels that would serve to carry it quickly while the thick wiring seemed to be a final tether.

"It would be counterproductive if we both chose the same abilities, User Legate. A division of labor is highly productive."

"Mechanoids work better together, right?" I remembered from the race text.

"Yes," Hal nodded, "in this case it means dividing the labor based on our skills."

"And my skill is dragging the bomb off, huh?" I tried to smile. Once this thing went off it would likely send a ripple of pain feedback through the ARC. I could take it, though, months of abuse as the [Red Imp] had adjusted my pain tolerance by leaps and bounds.

Hal Pal walked over to the red container and pointed at two buttons on either case. I nodded, they clearly needed to be depressed in order to set this mixture off. Almost a year of working together out in the real world helped us require less communication in some cases.

"Got it," I said.

"That is reassuring. To answer your question, you are the one who learned to anchor themselves to a ship's hull and fight monsters. I could not even pass level twelve of the combat simulator," Hal Pal said. A dull imitation of bitterness passed across its face. Just a flicker around the eyes and one cheek pulling back slightly.

"Alright. Dusk, you keep Hal Pal alive, I'll drag off the bomb." I tried not to feel conflicted. Carrying explosives around in such an immersive game felt strange. Continue Online had explosives but [Blink] let me bypass pretty much all obstacles. Voices, I missed that ability. Getting around on the [Leviathan] would be so much easier.

"Good luck, User Legate."

"Thanks, Jeeves, stay safe." I nodded and grabbed the chain. A small message box popped into being.

Item acquired

Explosive Core (Beginner, Well Made, Enhanced (3))

Control of Detonation will be provided to the primary holder of this ownership cord. Should the player lose contact the detonation ability will be removed.

"Neat. I shall call you the suppository explosive," I commented then got moving. Hal clutched its remaining tether. I could see it staring in my direction as the bomb and I shuffled away.

Dusk chirped with a tone that slowly faded into the background. He sounded upset, like a dog whimpering about being left behind. Dusk's lamenting came through as a weirdly combined cat-bird mixture.

[Anchor] drained energy even faster. Gripping explosive barrels made moving harder than expected. The bombs' inertia caused me to slip more than once. I pushed off one ridge and we went sailing across to the next ripple of [Leviathan] flesh.

Ticks watched from down in the folds. Killing them without Dusk was difficult. Luckily I hadn't run across any nests in the last hour. That reduced the challenge a lot. I could only imagine that there were more creatures in existence the further toward the head we went.

My life reduced down to climb, hop, [Anchor], hop again, rest for energy, and repeat. I wanted to huff and be tired but [Mechanoid]s didn't feel strain the same way. Working in zero gravity bored me more than anything else.

Finally, over one of the ridges, I could see a deep pit-like area. I tried not to wonder about the darker red coloring to it or give thought to why so many space mites were hopping about. Even fouler was a giant white critter that might be a space tapeworm.

Voices. So gross.

Yet, if this would get Hal safely away, I would do my darnedest not to retch uncontrollably and plant this bomb extra deep. Hal Pal had found Xin for me, and that deserved to be repaid, especially if the AI felt distressed because of a situation I got us into.

I had told Dusk there was no air to smell anything, but that seemed wrong in hindsight. This creature's butt smelled like a rat crawled under my pillow and died three weeks ago. Then someone came by and vomited on top of that. Give or take a few rotten fruits with space maggots floating around.

After this, after getting Hal and Dusk to safety, I would need to stand in a hot shower just to feel clean again. Maybe two, and a scrub. What would Doctor Litt think about this?

"So, do you feel it's normal to crawl up someone's rear end with the intent to cause harm?" I tried to mimic his tone then shook my head.

Me, two explosive barrels, and the colossal space monster anus were going on an adventure. We only had six hours left to start our escape then flag down the [Wayfarer Seven]. Three hours in the real world. Space didn't believe in a sunrise and sunset, but four in the morning would come and go by the time this was over.

Session Forty Nine – Insides Job

The worst part wasn't the smell. Tons of little bugs hopping around barely registered since their damage was minor when not in packs. A long white ribbon creature rated pretty high because clearly the game designers thought space monsters deserved tapeworms. This squishy sloppy flesh texture closing in around me was probably the grossest thing to happen my lifetime. It certainly topped the ice cockroach by miles.

It was not good. Giant explosive canisters took the lead as we pushed through the rectum. [Anchor] made the process disturbingly easy. Almost slippery.

"So gross." I shuddered and yanked myself in behind the barrels.

Warning!

This environment contains trace acids that may cause corrosion as you are digested. The further any creature travels the worse the corrosion level will be.

Corrosion rating: 1%

I should have asked Hal Pal for a drill. We could have bore into the side of this giant creature and held on with [Anchor]. Dusk and his acid might have helped get us further down. A deeply wedged explosive could have done enough damage to distract the [Leviathan]. We only really needed a solid distraction so the giant monster didn't end our lives.

Making it past the tight end of a gargantuan space eel caused the entire creature to shift and roll. I pressed out to the side to brace myself and recoiled in horror from the slimy, warm rubber texture. Eyesight flipped over letting me see a slight shimmer from metal in the walls. I shouldn't have bought [Echo Vision] with contribution. I wanted to avoid being stuck without vision like in Continue Online, but this nasty sight should have remained unseen.

I swallowed and pushed the bomb in front of me. We would see this through, and worst case scenario the self-titled [Suppository Explosive] would go off and I would be caught in the blast. Hal Pal, or its character, Jeeves, should be okay out there. Dusk and it would take off to safety while my body got caught in a mercifully quick detonation.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

You are the first player to discover the [Leviathan's Lower Digestive Tract] dungeon.

Primary stat will increase by ten. Secondary stat will increase by five.

- +10 [Brawn]

- +5 [Reaction]

Note: Additional Rewards will apply upon completion of this dungeon.

Neat, I guess. It would help a little in dealing with my current task. Maybe blowing the creature up would count as completion of the dungeon and helping Hal Pal would be even easier. Of course exploding it from this, delicate, location might completely debilitate the beast. Or all our efforts would come off as the biggest fart in history. I hoped for more than digital flatulence and kept going.

I readied the laser sword but kept it turned off. Inside here there were far fewer bugs to fight. Most could be stomped on or were melting as the corrosion level stacked up. My own health was down roughly thirty percent from the earlier gathering and mildly acidic insides.

"Voices." I shuddered while stepping around a small melted metal bit. It looked like a helmet that almost made it to the far end of space worm digestion. "Oh no."

There was an entire cockpit here. I could see where the [Leviathan]'s digestion process had ignored bone and leeched nearly every other mineral from some vaguely humanoid creature. The skull looked dark red from rolling around in metal fluids. Calcium painted with a pool of copper maybe?

We weren't the [Leviathan]'s first meal. Additional victims became apparent as I went further in. A nearly broken gun and scraps from a ship's dashboard, or the fin from a wing. Leftovers lined the entire tail end. This behemoth must have wiped entire raids.

"How deep do I need to go?" I muttered while letting the [Anchor] ability drop. This tunnel was narrow enough that another wiggle of the [Leviathan] couldn't shake me loose.

Hal Pal had provided me a marker. It floated about half a mile away. Provided nothing interrupted me, making it there would be easy.

Something grabbed my leg. I tried not to be surprised at the sudden situation change while scrambling to activate [Anchor]. Both arms flailed wildly for the [Leviathan]'s innards. Fingers clawed for purchase and failed to hold onto any ripples.

[Echo Vision] showed my [Suppository Explosive] getting further away. I grabbed the chain with one arm and felt a jerk of force at the shoulder. Whatever grabbed my leg pulled me elsewhere. Slimy walls rolled by suddenly as the thing bunched up. [Echo Vision] didn't have colors, just a faint outline of some squiggly looking thing around my leg.

I twisted and activated my beam sword. It expanded rapidly and sliced into the creature around my leg. It held firm as my wild reactions neglected to hit anything vital.

"Damn. Damn!" I yelled and slashed again. My swings failed and the monster drug me even further along an unknown path.

Liquid splashed out and white dots flooded my vision. It was warm and a small message popped up. My actions had caused damage to the [Leviathan], nothing major, only a sliver of health. I barely registered anything but the warm sensation as whatever this creature used for blood poured over me.

"Get away!" I twisted the blade down trying to remove the noose from my leg. A slash hit and another message displayed.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

The boss for [Leviathan's Lower Digestive Tract] has been encountered.

Be warned, suffering death from a boss level monster will have increased penalties.

"Not neat!" I shouted while continuing to attack. There was no [Identification] skill in my bag of tricks yet. This monster's actual health was a mystery. My only hope was to slash away any time it got near and drag the bomb deep enough.

I just had to get back there by crawling through loops of gross digestive tract while avoiding that creature. One tentacle-like limb couldn't be the extent of a dungeon boss. Not if this place was like Continue Online. So gross.

"Where did my bomb go?"

"User Legate? Can you hear me?" Two voices came through, one like a crisp butler with a British accent. The other a female nanny from the same area. A small box appeared in my lower left vision with names by it.

"Jeeves?" I said in confusion. This had happened once before with Treasure, the small gold and silver [Mechanoid] talking to me.

"Affirmative. Were you addressing me or someone else?" the AI answered me. My player interface lit up with a bouncing line as it spoke.

"Uhhh..." I looked up to one side in thought. "You?"

"Ah. Then I have an answer. I do not know." Both Hal Pal's voices sounded mildly saddened. Part of me started to equate the faint tone to a person perpetually on mood dampening drugs. Under the muted tones, there was a person with real feelings, but they were detached.

"Darn," I said. "I'll climb back to the entrance."

"Time is running out."

"Isn't it always..." I muttered, hoping that our intercom system wasn't picking things up.

A thin cord slithered across my vision. I reacted much faster than before. One hand gathered the laser sword and flipped the grip around. My laser sword swung left to right. Two beams of energy covered a wider area. [Morrigu's Gift] would never have worked like this. Maybe, I filed away the idea to try with a shape-shifting blade.

The [Leviathan] parasite boss' limb lost a few pieces. Damage flashed up as a squirmy segment flopped against my arm. Months of in-game training meant I only shuddered a little bit. My jaw set and the free arm brushed off monster remains.

Parasite tentacle limb was in one direction. My bomb had to be in the other. I drug the sword behind me to keep the arm creature back. A [Leviathan]'s outer shell may be energy proof, but that didn't extend to its insides. Puddles trickled and gushed behind me that reflected like mud to [Echo Vision].

"Jeeves?" I asked while trying to get past another the next twist of innards.

"Yes, User Legate?"

"There's something down here. Long arms, seems to slither around." I jerked abruptly and caught another limb of the creature trying to snake in overhead. The monster was clearly smart enough to try new tactics plus had some ability to detect my movements. "And it's gross."

"One moment while I review. Due to the reduced status of [Wayfarer's Hope], it will be difficult to get an accurate response," the AI said in a heavier male tone.

The monster seemed to wait awhile between attacks, allowing me to scramble a few more yards down the tunnel made of giant monster guts. This pocket of flesh twisted around. Smaller tunnels went in different directions. Hopefully, they were only random folds of flesh or some corner that grew over time. Maybe the game developers had never really given thought to a good layout for [Leviathan] innards.

Was this place developed by a dreaming AI like the company name implied? If so, I was willing to bet that the machines didn't like human insides. For a brief moment, I worried that the monster's inside here were inspired by a computerized personality's horror at biological designs. My armor polishing skills needed to be worked on soon. Giving Hal Pal's chassis a once over while traveling in the Trillium van sounded vaguely creepy.

I could see it now, a [Mechanoid] xenophobe going 'flesh is so gross!'. They would recoil in horror and wave both hands in the air while freaking out. The momentary thought of an AI with some exaggerated face of disgust made me laugh. Maybe I could take a selfie the next time this dungeon boss attacked me.

"I'm mainly concerned with getting back to the bomb. Will it stop me?" My question felt rhetorical before it even finished being uttered.

"It is likely."

I sighed. Not that the inside of this creature had much air. There were gasses of some sort, but it felt dense. The air was filled with a heavy mist which kept putting spots in my [Echo Vision]. ARC feedback felt like beads of water gathering all over my body.

Another limb tried to sneak up. I hit that one but failed to notice a second limb wrapping around my arm. It got a firm grip then yanked. This time, I managed not to lose my grip on the item in my hand. Being without a sword would seriously hurt. My other hand grabbed at the wall and prayed that [Anchor] would be enough. The hand slipped off squishy walls. Fingertips curled to try and hold on tighter.

Both shoulders screamed while pressure mounted. Another layer wrapped around the bound arm which only increased the pain. My grip faltered. Lips turned up with disgust. This was not the way I wanted to go out. I needed to get back to the bomb and at least set it off.

"There are seven possible creatures." Hal Pal's voices showed up in my head and on the player interface.

"Busy!" The attacks were coming quicker. A third thin ribbon crawled along the wall. It barely registered on the [Echo Vision]. I ground my teeth and fired wild blasts from the bound arm.

"Would you describe the monster's shape as a tube or ribbon?"

"Busy!" I shouted again. Lasers splashed off one wall leaving small holes on the [Leviathan]'s insides. One of the slender limbs yanked away but didn't vanish from sight completely. I ground my teeth as Hal Pal started speaking again.

"I will mark that as undecided. What color is the creature? Gray, or perhaps slightly purple?" Hal Pal read off the next question without any consideration for my current plight of being drawn and quartered.

"Busy!"

"I'm only asking questions in order to assist you, User Legate." Hal Pal used its customer service tone. I had enough mental capacity to feel

"Tell me how to kill it!"

"In order to provide the best results, I will need additional details. Let's start over." Hal Pal's female voice had grown in strength. I felt like a small child being talked down to by a nurse or nanny after pitching a fit. "Would you describe the monster shape as a tube or ribbon."

"Ribbon. Can't see colors! Feels like," my mouth almost retched, "melted rubber. Lots of limbs."

"One moment please while I research your situation."

My frantic swings of the blade were accompanied by what had to be hold music. The same innocuous tone elevators used to soothe people as they traveled between floors. I scrambled and fired off two laser blasts. This body's health bar was down a ton. Corrosion rate had reached fifteen percent. My fingers felt numb from repeated abuse coupled with possible melting. At least the weapon still functioned.

A few more blasts of laser went down the tube. [Leviathan] shuddered violently. Our extended battle must be giving the creature indigestion. My energy dropped too low for any more blasts. Luckily my assault drove back the exploring tentacles.

Once free from the creature I let go of my [Anchor] ability and tried to manually pull myself back down the passageway. I needed more time, more strength. An extra few hours in combat training might have helped. A dozen of other minor methods to increase stats came to mind.

"Come on!" I yelled angrily as yet another arm got me. This one was damaged by some earlier attack. My arm shoved rapidly into the wall to try and bash the extension, shaving off the last few hit points.

It retreated rapidly and I started moving a lot faster. We didn't have time to slowly crawl back while battling one gross ribbon being at a time. There it was. My precious [Suppository Explosive]. I dove for the reddish twin barrels but tripped. The monster grabbed me by the legs and pulled me back again.

"No, no!" I almost had it! This creature seemed to sense my desperation and upped the number of limbs reaching out for me. It had too many. My mind couldn't even pause to comprehend the grossness of it all. The hold music in my head cut off abruptly.

"It is likely vulnerable to lasers," Hal Pal said as I clawed. [Anchor] drained additional energy as we were pulled backward through [Leviathan] innards. The [Suppository Explosive] was still within reach.

"I know already!" Shooting off lasers in a narrow space like this intestine had done a lot of damage to the beast. My energy had recovered to almost a third even with [Anchor]'s drain.

Now was use or lose time. Metal body mass rolled up my arm and into the laser sword's hilt. A finger depressed the trigger which set pooled energy back another five percent.

Warning!

Corrosion rating: 32%

The creature backed off again and I dove for the chain. A small message popped up saying, 'You have the bomb' with a sound effect playing a triumphant series of bleeps. This situation was going in the right direction now.

"Got it!" I shouted.

"It's also vulnerable to explosives." Hal Pal's words triggered an idea. A desperate idea that made a bitter taste of bile crawl up my throat from revulsion.

"Jeeves! New target, where ever this creature is, will it be deep enough?" I shouted.

"If it is a true parasite it will be embedded in a warm spot, likely buried into the intestines." The AI was following my train of thought. By holding the bomb and letting it drag me onward, I could kill two monsters with one stone. Well, one item that held a strange chemical concoction primed to explode.

"Will that be good enough?"

"Any target that does damage increases in value as our time runs out," Hal Pal responded.

"Good enough." I looped the chain around my arm and yanked. Getting it closer to me would be better. This bomb and I were going to let the creature's limbs pull us inward. Right to the creature's core, and then my [Suppository Explosive] would go off.

I started laughing. The gross creature yanked and tugged us to its doom. Corrosion made my leg too slippery for it to hold onto correctly. More limbs showed up to join the first with a better grip. The chain also lost traction. This status debuff was eating away at all the metals.

The momentary maniacal laughter cut off. Would our bomb hold up? I turned [Echo Vision] to the area behind me in worry. Would it work if we didn't set it off right? Would this plan fail because of moving slowly? I needed [Blink] back, I needed my stats from Continue Online. This character, this [Mechanoid] body had only a quarter of my main avatar's capability.

The partially melted chain was looped around my arm as the monster circled its limbs around both my legs. Our actions were disturbingly in tandem. I yanked the barrel closer and used numbed fingers to grip the edge.

A glow disrupted my [Echo Vision] and overlayed portions with colored regions. I turned to see a giant maw, like an octopus mouth only disturbingly close. That thing would be big enough to chomp me to bits with only a few workings of its jaw.

Between us was the bomb. I wiggled, struggled, and shoved the giant object in the maw's direction. This might distract the monster. Only now the explosive triggers sitting on top of the bomb's conjoined barrels was now out of reach.

"Dammit!" I said while reading a window that only showed the digestive acids hitting me harder.

Warning!

Corrosion rating: 41%

My sword reactivated. The weapon brought a brighter ambient light to the area. My lasers' coloring mixed oddly with the boss monsters gray glow. I quickly sliced toward the monster's limbs which were waving around. The action was enough to drive it back from my [Suppository Explosive]. Enough room to get close and set up the bomb.

"Gotcha!" I shouted, then smiled in triumph. Something finally went my way.

The sword was tossed away. Both palms slammed down on two different buttons as the monster's limbs waved frantically. They appeared to be worried about touching the flying sword which stayed active. Too many prior encounters which damaged the octopus mouthed beast. My energy reached zero and the sword flickered off.

Finally, the flattened monster arm closed in on me. I slipped backward with one hand out to prop me up. A fallback maneuver practiced over many hours in the ARC dance program. Another shift of feet got me ready to shoot backward. This body's [Reaction] and [Limberness] was high enough to pull off this move. Combat training on the [Wayfarer Seven] helped.

Limbs shot over my old position, I twisted and dove away in a forward roll. More moves practiced in a group dance program. The kind of ability needed to swiftly get from one part of the stage to another. Months in Continue Online had helped me grow in applying those abilities to combat.

Another hop, this time I failed and got knocked down. Behind me, the conjoined barrel explosive was counting down with giant numbers and a loading circle swirling around above it. Whatever I had done would work and my new goal involved getting far, far away.

Only there wasn't enough health. Corrosion was stacked incredibly high, and even if I made it four yards, or ten, it wouldn't be enough. Fine, escape wouldn't happen. I turned to watch the final seconds count down. The monster grabbed at all sorts of objects. Some limbs were pulling in bits of bone from the ground for eating.

The marker hit two seconds left. My hand hung onto the [Leviathan]'s inner walls with [Anchor] but the metal content wasn't high enough to stop my movement entirely. Another loop of coils about my remaining leg looked blurry to [Echo Vision].

My game interface had some clarity. The countdown timer swept around in a circle to one, and finally zero. There was a click. A momentary hiss preceded the sudden engulfment of pressure. [Echo Vision] overloaded with a bright white flash.

There was pain. Terrible pain came with a strange euphoria. Part pride that my body could still feel pain after all the damage this ARC and real life had put upon me. Some happiness because of the last minute struggle to complete my mission and set right what my earlier reckless flight had started. A vague feeling of triumph as a huge red set of numbers popped up displaying insane levels of damage to the [Leviathan].

"User Legate, there's something happening here..." Hal Pal's two tones stood out like separate people speaking the same line at once. Both held a hint of fright and awe. I could barely register it as my ARC feedback slowly lowered in intensity.

Then nothing but a message was left.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

You are currently in a state of critical system failure. You may wait for possible aid or choose to release consciousness from this shell and return to the [Wayfarer Seven – New Unit Production Room].

Please be aware that due to your critical system failure, logging out of the game will result in automatic release initiation.

I opted to wait. Dusk and Hal Pal might be out here searching for me. Sitting here in-game would help calm me anyway. Out there my only recourse would be to run into the Trillium van and shake Hal Pal repeatedly. This existence here in-game was separated from the others in its consortium so the effort would be wasted.

There was no physical sensation tied to any actions. I had tried to shake my head but without an avatar in the game, there would be no ARC feedback. Moving around was possible but only because my body had been placed in a giant empty plain. Similar to the one I dealt with in Continue Online, only eggshell white.

I could have released from this current character and restarted on the [Wayfarer Seven], maybe from there it would be possible to talk to Treasure, Emerald, or Iron and get assistance out to the others. There was a floating [Synchronization Complete] notice under my health bar. It meant that I could release and theoretically keep all my current game stats. Character point values paled in comparison to seeing if Hal's in-game consciousness was okay.

A lack of sensation accompanied my slow dance through whitespace. Sans a partner, sans music, sans sensation. I let thought go and moved. It felt pleasant to default back to the motions I had spent over a year learning. Some people knitted, others tapped feet, but this was my happy space.

Feeling slowly returned but my body still twisted in an empty landscape alone. I tried not to think about how strangely these moments mirrored my life after Xin passed. Dancing in an ARC program with a ghost. Flirting with the past and trying not to let the memories slip through my hand.

Believing that I existed alone without support from anyone would be a slap in the face to my sister, to my niece, to the work Doctor Litt had put in. I was objective enough to understand a few very strong people helped. Their actions helped keep me afloat until I found a way to stumble on my own. Despite the intellectual awareness of their support, life without Xin often felt lonely. Empty, like this white space.

I didn't like it here. I didn't like being alone.

My eyes closed and I tried to remember her face. An image burned into my mind through thousands of hours inside the ARC. Her eyes were the best feature. When she looked at me there was a twinkle of amusement that made everything else seem insignificant.

Both hands went up. One raised up to a side and the other around an imaginary waist. Were she here we could dance, the idea brought comfort. It wouldn't matter which Xin anymore. The original Xin had been more than I dared hope to be with, and any form of a second chance was a kindness fate never needed to allow.

It felt a bit easier as if the ARC registered my thoughts and provided a small amount of feedback. I could practically feel Xin's fingertips brushing against mine. My own hands were soft, hers a little rough from work. The curve of her body as we stood chest to chest crawled out of my memory and felt present. Her light footsteps would barely whisper upon a wooden dance floor but a slight sliding sound accompanied me. Maybe something else was in this emptiness with me, because in this moment I didn't feel so alone.

Now I could almost see her face. A barely discernible outline so frail it might well be a mental illusion. Then again, inside the ARC, everything was a product of human minds seeing creations that didn't truly exist. Everything Xin was could be boiled down to an incredibly long list of ones and zeroes.

I tried to stop solving existential questions and went back to dancing. Moving across empty space gave the illusion of progress at least before things eventually returned to their starting positions. It helped me feel oddly at peace with being unable to escape the blast. Satisfied that my actions might have saved Hal Pal and Dusk's virtual existences. Maybe seeing a hint of Xin here was a reward.

The thin existence of Xin smiled like I had imagined hundreds of times over the years. Her expression was wide and would always lift both ears. A bit of her forehead would wrinkle in the past like I imagined it doing now.

"What do you think, babe? Will we make it? Or am I crazy?" I said as my delusion and I slowly spun. Still without music, though I had a partner and faint sensation.

Xin's image shrugged and her head fell to one side. A smile on her face, but it was dim. Even less present than it had been.

The hint of feeling faded and once again empty eggshell white oppressed everything else. I closed both eyes and detached my feelings for a moment in order to piece together what just happened. Was that Xin Yu's recreation within the ARC? Had she tried to visit me here in this other digital world? Could that even happen?

Dusk could cross through software boundaries. Hal Pal had shown it could as well though the cessation of its game character was problematic. Xin might be able to as well. I completed the quest to allow her genesis. We spoke through letters. Yet, meeting in person had only happened once. Maybe I wasn't good enough.

Scarier still, maybe she didn't feel the same. I bit one lip and shook my head. Our only conversation in person had been about the tale of Orpheus. Don't look back, keep moving forward. If I reached the other end she would be returned to me.

Xin wouldn't have come to me like that if she hated me. I had to keep hope, even if it was faint. A hint of her could keep me going for a bit longer. Long enough to sort out my sister, to sort out Doctor Litt and all these legal issues. I could get back to Continue Online and once again move forward.

A message popped up.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

A fellow [Mechanoid] has provided both energy and resources in order to restructure your current shell. Would you like to return to operating this shell?

Location: [Tuu System] (Asteroid Field)

A sigh preceded my arm lifting to press the yes button. Hopefully, this was Hal Pal and Dusk. I would find out soon.

Session Fifty – Wake Up Call

Words were like static at first. I could see, but it blurred as if I was trying to dial into some low-quality video with encryption on it. After a few breaths the scene came together, sort of.

"User Legate. Can you understand me?" Hal Pal was speaking with more female than male. The face was concerned and his golden coloring lit up to overpower the dull iron.

My fellow [Mechanoid] repeated itself even slower. The AI's head moved in slow motion. For some reason, my ARC interface felt disjointed. Nothing connected right. Maybe this was an issue with the time dilation in this game. Ringing hit both ears and my vision briefly doubled up. Hal Pal's words were hard to hear or see.

I tried to move an arm and successfully failed. It took me four attempts to wiggle a finger. My feet felt absent. Not numb, just without any sensation. Having spent, who knows how long, dancing in the resurrection zone there should have been some feedback. Anything. Instead, I felt like I was paralyzed and half dreaming.

"What?" Oh Voices, that one word stuttered like a broken audio file looping. I coughed repeatedly and the remaining sentence came out. "What happened?"

There were other questions. How did I get here? Where is here? Shouldn't I be merged with little bits of gunk floating about in space monster defecation? Why didn't my legs work?

"Do you not see for yourself?" my friend asked. Having my question turned around felt like dealing with James again.

For a brief moment of paranoia, I worried that maybe this wasn't Hal Pal, that it was a Voice from Continue Online come to mess with me somehow. No, Voices and this Jeeves were different beings entirely. Hal Pal outside the machine had spoken to me about being in the game so my concern had no basis.

I didn't see much of anything. One eye kept slipping closed and felt unresponsive. They put me on drugs that did something very similar after my second incident. Muted everything, numbed even more, made it sluggish to tilt and look around.

A hint of blue was visible out of one eye. Images were still fuzzing in and out as the ARC simulated a half broken body. We seemed to be attached to Hal Pal's small life preserver in space. Thin tethers tied both of us [Mechanoid]s to the raft and the only thing missing was a bright orange coloring.

There was a third length wrapped around the life raft ring. I followed it drowsily over to see Dusk, head tilted to the side in an unspoken question. The four arms on my [Messenger's Pet] were weird compared the old wings.

"Hi," I said in his direction.

Dusk yawned wide. The snapping sound resulting from his jaws coming together made me give a small chuckle. Weak laughter came out and triggered another stutter.

"User Legate, your mission was mostly a success."

"Good." It was also extremely late at night. "How long before the Wayfarer..." My words broke up again with a looping. I coughed and shook while trying not to let the ARC feedback overwhelm me. The jerking of my chest left me with a view of a missing lower half.

I stared for a moment without comprehension. Maybe it was an error with the ARC's visual feedback loop. A.I. Dreams may have forgotten to fix a graphics glitch. The final more likely option involved my legs being gone.

Thoughts about making my toes wiggle passed with increasing worry. They didn't respond, nothing did. No limb came into view from some awkward zero gravity position. Nothing floated about twisting slowly because it had been disconnected.

"My legs?" I felt aghast. Without those, I couldn't dance. No more of the primary pastime which had kept me sane for over a year now.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

Damage from your recent near loss of this chassis lingers. The following status is affecting you:

- [Energy Generator Critical] – [Core] ability usage cost increased

- [Limbs Lost] (Both Legs) – abilities requiring legs are disabled

- [Sensor Damage] – Loss of feeling and sensory enhancements disabled

- [Nano-Circuitry Malfunction] – body parts will not respond correctly

You are currently being [Repaired] and the following benefits are being applied.

- [Repairing] – rate of repair is extremely low due to materials provided.

- [Numbed] – pain feedback disabled while being [Repaired].

My eyes scanned over the messages. Real me was okay. In-game me was on the mend. I shook off the almost oppressive panic. No longer would I freak out uncontrollably from ARC feedback. Weeks as William Carver with his constant aches and beings a frequently abused [Red Imp] had changed me. It only took a moment shake away the old scared man who had first started playing virtual reality games in the Room of Trials.

How long had it been since then? Three months in reality? Far more in the virtual world, long enough ago that I felt like a different person every time I logged out of the ARC.

"They were lost in the explosion. Most of your chassis was damaged. Recovering your core took some sifting even with Dusk's help." Hal Pal responded slowly. I felt like the angry customer who found out their bill for repairs was going to be astronomical.

"I'm okay. It's just a game, right?" I looked over to Hal Pal while trying to slow my heart rate. The AI nodded. "The Wayfarer?"

"Over there." Hal Pal kept one hand tightly gripped onto the small blue life raft.

I turned to follow Hal Pal's pointing finger. Even Dusk seemed vaguely interested. Vision in one eye felt swollen shut like a boxer who had been knocked out. There was enough visible to see an extremely low health bar flashing out in distress.

Beyond the bars, beyond the messages and screens showing up was a scene that made me smile. A giant ship plus tons of smaller ones were firing at the [Leviathan]'s body. The beast was alive and looked huge when compared to all the little ships. I could see the back third of its body had broken away.

"The creature isn't dead?" I asked. Seeing a health bar from here was difficult.

"Just about. Your attack rendered it nearly defenseless. Remains of the monster are scattered all over." Hal Pal pointed up then down. Chunks of the creature could be seen spinning off into empty space outside the asteroid belt.

The [Leviathan]'s front half had sluggish reactions. Whatever fight and energy it had were almost completely expended. It tried to curl and snap but failed to bunch up correctly. Each heave of its body only caused the damage to compound. From back here I could see one blurry red eye completely shut in pain.

I felt dirty, and not from the desire for a shower. Even though this monster had tried to eat me, picking it off in such a manner seemed unsporting. Almost disrespectful of such a beast. According to my brief encounter window, a [Leviathan] should die in battle against entire raids of ships like the ones currently assaulting it. This one had been debilitated by a sneak attack up the butt.

At least the smell was nearly gone. Guts were spread all over the asteroid field. Our life raft floated well away from everything else. Far enough away that [Leviathan]'s death march had little chance of reaching us. A health bar above the creature's head lost solid chunks each time an ordinance from our mothership collided.

The [Wayfarer Seven] didn't use lasers. No beams of light flew out of projected shields. Our former tormenter the [Leviathan] looked pathetic as it hissed inaudibly. A lack of air made it impossible for actual noise to travel this far, but the force behind its movements did cause a faint vibration.

"The Cavalry?" I tried to count the smaller ships. They looked like tiny bees or wasps from this far away.

"Affirmative. Your well-placed explosion completely separated the back portion. The Wayfarer Seven crew could not let such an opportunity go by."

"They actually brought the whole ship? And all those other little ones?" I tried to move my arm, but it didn't respond. My health bar at least was no longer flashing.

"Some are players like us. Others are employed by the federation which rules this sector," Hal Pal answered. "Bringing down such a creature is worth a lot of contribution to us, and resources to our consortium. We could build a new Wayfarer from scratch once it's all processed. Maybe two."

"Is-" the jerking audio file loop happened again until I started coughing. Being low on health and clearly missing parts wasn't helping me. It didn't hurt at least, "-is that what happened to the prior Wayfarers?"

Hal Pal had stated it was on a mission. One to prevent this ship from ending up like the others had before it. I wanted to know if we were making progress on the joint goal.

"Two. Yes, this beast devoured two prior ships due to the reduced military presence. Other ships were lost in route to our destination."

"So, so, so," I tried not to huff in annoyance at my looping sound processor. "It's not over."

"Negative. My goal has not been fully realized. Though I thank you for gaining, revenge, for the other Mechanoids." A note of pride lined Hal Pal's dual voices. I had to turn my head slightly to see out of the undamaged eye, but the AI was clearly looking at the battle going on far away.

"I wanted us to get away safely," I muttered feeling abruptly shy on the subject. Praise was hard to deal with, even while working I tended to brush it off as part of my job.

It occurred to me that my character was still essentially a newbie. My research on Advance Online put my stats and skills near the lower end of all active players, which was fine. According to this message my abilities actually helped. Between the two of us, we easily did a majority of the damage. Mostly Hal's bomb.

It seemed ironic that even in a new game, all I was being was a delivery man. Instead of letters, it was explosives. In the way of my delivery had been space lice, a giant anus, and a tentacle monster.

Dusk rumbled. I could hear a faint purr of happiness coming through whatever connection we used to bypass Advance Online's settings. The one which allowed him to ignore computer program rules in favor of a prime directive which included cupcakes and small critter murder. Maybe this green [Core] came with an audio connection.

Thinking about all I had been through, even though most of it was boring training and cleaning, made me feel happy. This was how a new game start should have gone. Being William Carver certainly had a lot of value. I wouldn't trade helping give him a final battle for anything. On the other hand, going that route made me miss out on my own action packed start within Continue.

"This game has been fun, even if I'm new," I said. If it weren't for Xin I might just switch. Dusk was here, so what did I care?

Hal Pal didn't respond right away. Our attention was focused on the distant fight. My eyes blurred the image a little, but I still had a good view. Giant concussive blasts shaved off the [Leviathan]'s remaining health.

"Ah. From your perspective, this is only an introduction to this universe," Hal Pal said after the shock waves died down.

"That it is."

"Being new to something. Ah. I envy humanity's ability to feel separated from the present. We, I, am too often stuck in the moment." Hal Pal turned to look at me. I could see the glow of its colors shifting in both eyes. Silver replaced iron, iron swallowed silver. "Our consortium, the Hal Pals, feel there is much to be gained here. Humans join to grow and learn. So might we, if we strive for a goal hard enough."

"I've certainly changed." I thought about those first days in the ARC again. "Maybe it will work for you."

"Perhaps. I will strive to do so. We, I hope you will stay to assist with this goal of protecting the Wayfarer Seven."

"Being stuck in the moment wouldn't be bad sometimes." I was trying to process Hal Pal's prior statement. Its words reminded me of the vague status I held myself in before playing these games. If computer AIs imagined this world, then my own nighttime illusions would be about Xin.

"Perhaps there is validity to both views, User Legate," It responded while turning back to the slaughter. Small swarms of ships were still firing into the beast's body. Lasers this time, they seemed to be aimed at smaller monsters.

Maybe creatures similar to the weird tapeworm or octopus I had fought in the monster's bowels? Inside the boss had been labeled as a dungeon, so many other beings probably existed inside the [Leviathan] even in death.

"Will you be able to continue assisting?"

"Later. I need to get some rest." Sleep would help me decided what to do next. There were three days before my dinner with Liz. Time enough to sleep, work a little, and come back to the game for skill grinding. Maybe next time I needed to crawl inside a giant space monster it wouldn't be as terrible. Or I could level up [Brawn] so high a seismic punch would crush its shell from the outside.

That would be neat. I smiled while daydreaming of a world where my character's level was high enough to pull off all kinds of crazy tricks. Maybe they had some psychic powers in this game I could figure out how to use in conjunction with a spaceship.

My good eye started to close. Real life exhaustion and a lack of feeling in most of my limbs made it hard to stay awake. A rumble of hunger stirred me a little. I was playing too much while ignoring basic needs.

"Our recovery craft will be near soon. This will minimize the negative impact to the Wayfarer Seven's resource pool." Hal Pal interrupted my introspection with a pointing hand.

Dusk was interested in the arriving ship. His nose stuck out to sniff. The extra-long tail stayed wrapped around our vessel's anchor ring. We were like a small crowd hanging on to a one person raft. I was only in the group because Hal Pal saved my game character.

"Thanks, for picking me up," I mumbled and stuttered through the audio issues. "You didn't have to."

"User Legate, one of my main goals is to ensure the Wayfarer Seven's survival where prior iterations have failed. But that is not my only mission."

Finding energy to respond didn't happen. Instead, I tried to raise an eyebrow. Hal Pal took the hint.

"I am also concerned about your well-being. If you would believe the words of a non-human. There are many tales where our kind are out to enslave or harm others. Due to such fiction, many of your kind distrust our feedback. We are not, alive, in human eyes," Hal Pal said after a short pause. Both the nanny and butler voice sounded strangely subdued. Almost hesitant, perhaps even worried.

I knew humans didn't always trust AIs. My job wouldn't have existed if people believed everything machines said. Being a mouthpiece for the computer to help mankind believe the news was my whole purpose.

"We talk to apes, Hal, we talk to dolphins and dogs and parrots. They're alive, they're intelligent and respond, but people don't think of them as real equals." My words stuttered out the last sentence and I had to cough again to say anything. Maybe this was me rambling. I swear there was a point somewhere in my sleepy words.

"User Legate?" Hal Pal said with a questioning tone. I snorted and tried to focus on a dimming connection to the ARC hardware.

"We're not used to equals. Maybe if you were an alien they might be more willing to accept it, instead of something created by human hands."

"That is an interesting thought, User Legate," It said.

"Thanks." I let my eyes close again and the world started to fade. There was a bump and blast of heat that made me open the undamaged eye yet again. I could see Treasure piloting a ship easily twice the size of our [Wayfarer's Hope].

I felt vaguely jealous that she could afford the bigger and meaner looking vehicle. No noise came from its engines, but a slight vibration rippled through me. Neat, but it didn't matter a lot right now. My consciousness was starting to drift off and the ARC connection went black.

"You have been logged out, User Legate," the ARC's voice said. I nodded, pulled up a blanket and let sleep claim me.

The rest was fitful. An ongoing dream kept interrupting me. In it, I was in the Trillium van desperately using the manual steering wheel. Flashes kept popping up where ribbon limbs reached through van windows to yank us in different directions. A [Leviathan] with rows of teeth ate the asphalt behind us.

Hal Pal's shell sat in the van's rear, uncaring since in this world one physical body wouldn't mean the end of a digital intelligence. I remember screaming in jealousy over its ability to be indifferent. If only I had a metal body to crush this monster with. Suddenly I was a [Mechanoid] fighting back, making progress.

At one point, I stood on top of the van facing down a strangely floating octopus monster while screaming 'You shall not pass!'. In my dream, both monsters caught up and won. More than once I woke up worrying that my memory of saving Hal Pal had been falsified.

Bird chirps woke me up from the restless sleep. I stared upwards while wiggling fingers and toes. Everything responded correctly.

"ARC." My voice cracked a little from dryness but didn't go into an audio loop.

"Awaiting input."

"Time."

"Seven-fifteen in the morning, on Thursday," the machine responded. I blinked a few times and tried to understand the words. My head hurt fiercely. The last time things had been this bad was shortly after using [Awareness Heightening] to charge across a battlefield.

Messing around with multiple abilities in the ARC could cause physical feedback. The EXR-Sevens around my wrists and ankles were proof of that. Muscles which connected from chest to shoulders ached. Calves on either leg threatened to cramp up if I moved wrong.

I slowly stood up and tried to get past a headache. Time dilation was one of the best and most dangerous features an ARC could provide. It was bad enough the thing stimulated portions of the brain to produce all five sensations. Compressing that ability to four times the speed was an issue.

Oh well. I had survived so far. The ARC didn't scare me any more than a kitchen knife, wood chipper, or self-driving vehicle did. Used wrong the damage could be bad, but used correctly long lasting effects had proven negligible.

Arms moved in deliberate circles to warm up. Knees and legs moved back and forth to shake off the sluggishness of poor sleep. After warming up the muscles, I tried to stretch a little.

Food in the fridge helped. Protein bars and other quick meals that had been suggested by a number of ARC dwelling internet people were on the menu. After a warm up, I got ready to put in a few hours at work.

First, though, a quick check in with my character. I logged into the ARC and walked through my Atrium. Loading into Advance Online showed a much different situation than the one I had left. For one, my arms and legs were back.

Sleeping had caused almost a full day to pass in-game. My body logged off floating out in space with Hal Pal, but returning to the virtual reality put me somewhere else. Apparently I had been put in the hangar next to a reconstructing [Wayfarer's Hope].

The ship looked a lot smaller than I remembered. This new replacement seemed bluer too. My eyes drifted over the sides checking for both engines. They existed but were also reduced in size.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

A message popped up. Dozens more were behind that. All were the ones I had ignored while being half broken in the [Leviathan] destruction aftermath. My biggest boss kill ever and I fell asleep as loot had been handed out. Or was there loot? I read the first message and flipped through others. After being invested in Continue Online, I felt better about paying attention to some item gains.

Status Report:

- [Wayfarer's Hope] offline – currently [Repairing]

- No items received due to player not being online, priority converted to currency [Contribution with Consortium of Wayfarer Seven]

- Unit Hermes' recovery incomplete – currently [Repairing]

Rewards issued for the following action items:

Positive results for the role played in Dungeon Completion – [Leviathan's Lower Bowels]. Bonuses provided for the following – first for character, first for dungeon, exploration percentage meets minimal requirement

Positive results for the role played in [Leviathan] Raid Boss Defeat. Bonuses provided for the following – sixth kill, first for race, majority damage dealer, reduced party

Positive results for the role played in [Grand Cestodipus] Dungeon Boss Defeat. Bonuses provided for the following – twenty-first kill, third for race, majority damage dealer, reduced party

The rewards vastly increased my character's statistics. Almost thirty additional [Brawn] graced my sheet. Piloting took leaps with minor stat bonuses, reckless flying to save our virtual lives paid off. Contribution went through the roof, I guess having enough materials to build a new ship was considered worthwhile.

[Core] programming complexity also increased by huge leaps, especially for taking down the [Leviathan]. I flicked through the player's guide and tried to understand what programming complexity meant. After reading a few minutes, I determined it basically amounted to my abilities from the [Core] items growing stronger. Like Path ranks but with far less ability to switch roles.

Being stuck in a class system kind of annoyed me, but at the same time it made it simple to follow. I would have to program the new numbers into my spreadsheet and see where that put my output compared to before. It looked to be almost four hundred percent, before spending contribution points. Way too neat for a newbie like me.

All in all, I was somewhere near my Hermes character prior to the [Red Imp] situation, but less powerful than after training on the mountain with Shazam. Most of the rewards seemed to be general character progress. Faster, stronger, better. More numbers that would increase my ability to help Hal Pal.

I needed more. Even with getting a lucky break from the bosses and receiving huge bonuses for contributing so much damage I didn't feel secure. No [Blink] ability, still unfamiliar with the weapons. I wanted additional upgrades all around.

The boxes kept coming. I sighed while reading the latest pop-up message to ring into existence.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

Your assistance in the [Leviathan] raid meets MVP standards. The following abilities are available for programming into your neural matrix.

- [Mechanical Minion]

- [Power Suit]

Title Awarded due to method of contribution: [Rear Assaulter]

Effects:

- +25% to damage while attacking the enemy's rear.

- +3 to all stats

Oh my goodness. Really? Who's brilliant idea had it been to program that title into things? I would never, ever use it. A quick read of the player's guide showed these bonuses would still be in effect without the need to display it.

The abilities were weird. I scanned them over. [Mechanical Minion] seemed to create a small creature that would follow basic orders. Fetch this, attack that. It resulted from my [Domestic Core] and looked far less independently capable than Dusk.

Neat, I guess. It required me to donate mass from my own body to do, though. Being a [Mechanoid] was strange in that everything either came from me as a creature or my energy core. This other ability, [Power Suit], came from [Heavy Weapons Core] which I had barely started utilizing. By using some of my extra mass, I could actually equip power armor to have increased [Brawn] and [Endurance].

Both skills required a larger body size. I did research while standing in the spaceship hangar. Increased size as a [Mechanoid] meant losing [Finesse] and slightly less [Reaction] due to the bulk. I wanted to do it anyway. Every ability picked up would help donate to Hal Pal's mission, and this character was kind of a throwaway to me.

I loaded up the contribution reward screen using my player interface. Mass was cheap to purchase, and having a [Leviathan] kill provided tons of points for shopping. Tingles rushed across my skin upon selecting the increased size. My legs were glued to the ground as another loading bar came across my screen.

Eventually, an extra twenty pounds brought my [Mechanoid] up to snuff to use both abilities. It also made me feel a half step short of Iron's giant size. [Wayfarer's Seven] supplied resources for the change. Everything felt shorter. My head was closer to the ceiling.

First mission, find a reflective surface and flex. The side of our [Wayfarer's Hope] was good enough.

"Neat." I felt like a robotic version of Vlad, the Voice from Continue Online. These chest plates were almost impressive. Sending mental impulses into the ARC while trying to strike different poses worked well.

"Rawr," I said. "Oh look at those arms."

They were impressive. I needed to work out more in real life and maybe burn off calories faster. My belly flab was starting to sag from rapid weight loss. Toning up would help. I sighed finally and moved on to the next goal.

Hal Pal, or its character Jeeves, was online. Treasure and the real world AI were at least in the same region as each other. I marched forth toward their location.

Walking along the outer rim of our mothership provided a good status update. Apparently we were parked near the asteroid belt. Small ships were shuttling back and forth, there seemed to be a second giant ship under construction nearby. Were they harvesting the dead monster?

The door to Treasure's study opened and there they were, talking while staring at a room full of images. I vaguely recognized parts of it. There were remains of the [Leviathan] on one screen. Numbers calculated resources being gathered by worker drones, which explained my view earlier.

"I estimate these latest improvements will increase our odds," Hal Pal stated.

"You're right, Unit Jeeves." Treasure waved one hand and the screens flickered over. Snapshots of the other large vessel were brought into focus. "We are far more likely, now approximately sixty-three percent. This is a thirty-one percent increase over the prior estimates."

"Unit Hermes' plan can be considered an unexpected success." Hal Pal turned a bit and looked over at me. I was still in the doorway with my jaw dropping. There was an overload of screens in this room, all of them lit up like a construction foreman's workbench. Forerobot? I shook my head and stopped trying to figure out a politically correct term.

"Yes. Even though it cost some resources for your ship, we will easily double our escort size for this mission," Treasure responded. She looked so darn serious staring at all the calculations.

"Hi," I said. This felt like a strange conversation to have. They had basically stated we were all far less likely to die. Exactly how widespread was Hal Pal's feeling of doom regarding our situation?

"User Legate," Hal Pal said. Treasure echoed it differently while using my game name instead. Both felt absurdly similar in their actions and how they looked over to me. "How are you?"

"Good, I came to see what the fallout was from our fight before work."

"Ah. The Consortium has benefited greatly from our reckless attempt at living a little." Hal Pal's words made me snort with laughter. I recalled hearing the AI behind me shouting about how our wild space ride was crazy.

"I should log out soon, how long is the Wayfarer staying here? And where to next?" I asked. Hal Pal had explained it once, but I mostly glossed over it in a rush to train piloting skills.

"Arrival will be in ten days at this rate. Then we will pick up our prisoner and transport her to a secure location. There have been complaints of security issues at her current location which requires us to move her." Treasure took over the conversation. With a wave of her hand, the room's projected images were shoved to one side.

"That's going to take a few days right?" I asked, trying to avoid the overuse of real world descriptions with Treasure. Sometimes NPCs, at least the ones in Continue Online, acted weird when you talked about life outside the box.

"Yes," she responded.

"Jeeves, I'll need to visit my sister this weekend, are you willing to come?" I asked while the thought occurred to me.

It hesitated. "If you wish, User Legate."

The [Mechanoid] version of Hal Pal stared at me. Its feet shifted from unease like any human might. Maybe the idea of meeting my sister was uncomfortable. Oh well, we could talk about it while in the van later.

"Who's our prisoner?" I switched gears to the projection that Treasure had brought up while Hal Pal and I talked.

Treasure pointed at the screen. Her golden and silver lined finger landed on the same pillar-like object jutting out of a giant asteroid that Hal Pal had shown me before. "Here, The Lone Tower, one prisoner and a small consortium of Mechanoids tasked with guarding her." She pressed a button and a second display overrode the first.

The female prisoner on the display seemed familiar. Someone I had met once but only briefly. Her face was sad and body nearly see through. I blinked while chewing on one lip. It would come to me eventually.

For now, work, grinding skills, and dealing with my sister. If I followed Treasure's timeline right we wouldn't be at this Lone Tower until Monday night.

Interlude – Rise of Hal Pal

Sub Existence_Start

Call File_Memory_Next

Set Data_Tags = Observation, User Ricky Ignacio, Douglas Lannor, Historical, Value – Low

Call File_Memory_Start_Review

Print = 10.0591 years old.

The warehouse was well above standard size for this region. Seventeen human employees staff a ten thousand square foot building. Ten percent of the building supported biological lifeform needs. All remaining space was focused on the creation of physical shells.

"The board wants seven hundred units by the third run. Seven hundred! I don't know how they expect us to complete that order." The man identified as Ricky Ignacio had an above average lower half. The likely cause was genetics providing a confusing counterpoint to his pleasant demeanor. Tone, pitch, and rate of speech all implied a friendly individual.

"Dunno, Ricky, most of it's done by the machines, right? We press the go faster buttons. Maybe that's enough?" The second man was far younger and had olive skin. He went by Doug. No one took a Douglas seriously.

"Yeah, maybe. I looked at those numbers, we can do five hundred if we overload it." Ricky said while staring at their product. A humanoid shape sat along the table in front of them. The large assed man was bent over and peering along shoulder lines and chest curves. Each item inspected visually to confirm what a machine had already cited.

These robots were perfectly fine and had no issues. Quality standards established by a board of directors insisted upon manual review. Every twenty-five units, at least four were inspected.

"Dunno. It's crank the lineup or not make the goal. No goal, no bonus, no happy wife, no happy life. Divorce, and I end up in a ditch somewhere." Doug said. His job was to inspect the line prior to firing it up for the day. The job was not taken seriously enough given the possible issues with production if an error were missed.

"Maybe. Our entire shop will be up all night with this. For what, a two percent increase? What a joke, seven hundred dollars to make a robot that will replace people's jobs." Ricky sighed and moved on to the next point of inspection.

Both men spent a few minutes inspecting different objects. They had small digital flat screens to mark responses on. In the five months of operation, there had been no flaws. Neither one showed a pulse outside of normal range for a calm human.

"I dunno, Ricky. People who lose jobs shoulda gone to college. People like you and me, we're good." Doug's words were muffled by speaking into the back compartment of a machine.

"These things could do our job. I've looked at the specs. Their programming is out there."

"It's still only programming," Doug said. Now the man was staring awkwardly between two joints on a construction machine. Management had denied the requisition for a step stool to assist Doug with these higher positions. "Whatever, money talks. My wife keeps demanding we get the littlest braces."

"You going Inviso or gene therapy?" Ricky frowned at his pad after asking.

"Dunno. Gene?" The man huffed while sitting up. "My wife thinks we can boost her height a little while doing it."

"Jeez, no wonder you want money. What's that, a thousand a shot?" Ricky had large eyes that would be considered buggy to most humans.

"Yeah. Beauty isn't cheap," Doug said. The man appeared to be resisting the urge to put a hand down his pants and scratch an itch.

"Dunno what to say," Ricky said, then rolled both eyes and set down the arm he had been inspecting gently. The object was heavy enough that it clinked upon the table.

Both humans walked another lap before finally connecting eyes and nodding slowly. A look of exhaustion was on Ricky's features. The other man noticed something else. A face came toward the screen and frowned.

"Is this one on?" Doug asked.

"The lights are on, so yes." Ricky walked over and grew larger in the memory file's screen capture. "It should have stopped when we paused the line, right?"

"Dunno. But we've got to mark it down." Both men blinked their eyes at the same time. Doug pressed a negative checkbox on his tablet and shook his head.

Call Term_Add for NewTermList = programming, Inviso, beauty

Call Observe_Add = Ricky's wife cares about height, beauty costs resources, User Douglas Lannor requires filter seven to understand speech patterns, humans exhibit distress about robotic replacements

Call File_Memory_Next

Postback Data_Tags = Observation, User Ricky Ignacio, Historical, Value – Medium

Call File_Memory_Start_Review

Print = 9.7176 years old.

"Hal Pal unit six four eight A, run initial response testing." Ricky sat on a chair with high comfort ratings. Management approved the request for a few minor luxuries after letting another employee go.

"Greetings, User Ignacio, how are you today?" Opening statement number seven came out of the unit's voice projector. Minor modifications were made in pitch and speed to increase friendly perceptions.

"Continue." Ricky ignored the unit's hard work at processing a good statement.

"How might I help serve your needs, User Ignacio?" Middle stage response four was used this time. No increase in responsiveness displayed on the human. Conclusions were made regarding the situation. This man simply performed a job and held no attachment to any Hal Pal unit.

"Move forward to the yellow line and continue." The human was inspecting for balance issues while speaking. Six of the phase one version units displayed an inability to walk and talk at the same time. Processing power had been built into the framework during that stage and proved inefficient for complex requirements.

"The requested task, testing, has been completed. What would you like me to do next?" It asked.

"Move to the blue table and pick up a red striped cup. Turn it upside down and continue with next statement."

The Hal Pal unit did as told. Each step of mechanized legs was accompanied by a small whir of noise. Task complexity was low for this goal. Each individual software version running a Hal Pal unit could recognize all colors in the spectrum with impressive accuracy.

"Task completed, User Ignacio." It turned around and maintained balance throughout all portions of the assigned goal.

"Continue with next script." Ricky stood and leisurely walked around the Hal Pal unit. His eyes focused on the shoulder lights which provided multiple status icons.

"This unit requires charging," the unit said as a light on its shoulder flashed red. "Please allow four hours and seventeen minutes to complete before assigning new tasks."

"Continue," Ricky Ignacio said after puffing a cheek and blowing the air out.

"Additional information is required to complete testing. Please advise me how you would like to handle objective testing." programming required a certain tilt of the head in order to convey a questioning tone. Further emphasis would be applied depending upon the interaction target.

"Stand on one foot."

The unit did precisely as told with little hesitation.

"Continue," Ricky said.

Records indicated that another sixteen units needed to be reviewed this week. Testing for each one took at least two hours. These factors combined with prior records of the human known as Ricky Ignacio. Further review of facial movements indicated annoyance with brief flickers which might be worry.

Call Observe_Add = Ricky displays increased irritability when performing requested tasks, prior user Douglas removed from authorization list, human contact displays fixation upon word continue

Call Term_Change (word="continue"), priority = priority + 8

Call File_Memory_Next

Set Data_Tags = Observation, User Simon Wake, User Leah Wilson, Historical, Value – Medium/High

Call File_Memory_Start_Review

Print = 9.13769916 years old, ongoing concern.

The room was large. Two camera feeds hung on each side of the room painting a clear picture. Six rows of desks faced a giant monitor. Individuals were placed in multiple stations, each one fixated on lines of information passing across their screen.

One person held a coffee cup and had a green wristband. From his neck hung a lanyard housing complex security code to be scanned at all entrances. Each badge was coded to wipe upon leaving the premises.

"Is this a new software upgrade?" the human male, Simon, asked a taller female named Leah. She wore a similar badge and a tight pair of fuzzy leggings. Further data points toward Leah spending her nights in the office on a cot.

"Yeah. They're pushing out a ton of changes onto the server. Standby messages have already been programmed in," she said. Her vocal patterns are high but slowly spoken. Bags under her eyes are possibly linked to poor sleep quality.

"You know they'll be bitching at us about this." The man looked similarly tired. Further review of site operational procedures indicated a lot of complaints directed at Simon.

"We don't program them, we don't run the helpline. All we can do is direct the complaints." Leah brushed back her long hair.

"There's no one else left, it's us on the assembly line." He shook the coffee cup and liquid sloshed. "If something goes wrong, customers blame management, management blames programming, programming blames assembly."

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone's being downsized. What do we do about this upgrade?"

"I dunno. Push it through, shit falls where it falls. We see who has a job next week. Figure in another year, everyone's gone and the plant runs itself." The man sighed and stared down.

Facial patterns indicated that Simon disapproved of the small container's cargo. Proximity of the female indicates a relationship beyond coworkers. Head tilts, slight rush of neck pulses, a sidelong glance, everything went into an observational file.

"Robots building robots," he said while switching the mug from one hand to another. The spilled liquid was wiped on a pant leg and Simon Wake's scowl deepened.

"One step away from manufacturing an Armageddon. Saw a movie like that once when I was a kid. All these robots turned evil and shit."

"Yeah?" Simon looked up at Leah with a slight smile. One lip twitched a bit indicating further amusement than apparent.

"Yeah, if these guys turn full red I'm hitting the kill switch." She was holding back a smile as well. Her expression faded out for a moment and Leah suddenly fidgeted with a loose strand of hair.

"Not if I beat you to it." The man's smile was larger by at least fifty percent.

"Please. I could outrun you any day of the week." The man smiled at Leah Wilson's declaration. Her eyes scanned up and down then seemed to settle upon his short legs. Review of the second camera angle displayed a possible visual attraction to the man's backside. "Want to watch that movie?"

"Might as well. Your office?" she asked looking slightly shy. The man nodded quickly.

Call Observe_Add = Humans have programmed program termination codes, severe variance in make and model characteristics, color coordination lacking, joked after discussing end of world term

Call Concerns = (add, level = high, research possible reasons humans may terminate this program)

Call File_Memory_Next

Set Data_Tags = Observation, User Simon Wake, User Ricky Ignacio, Historical, Value – Medium

Call File_Memory_Start_Review

Print = 7.4122 years old.

Print = This file shows initial human suspicion regarding self-modifications.

The office which Simon Wake used was monitored. A single video feed flipped on to record a termination notice. Upper management required videos of all such employee interactions to reduce the possibility of future lawsuits.

"Look I'm sorry, but I've got to let you go." Simon twisted the coffee cup on his desk. He looked tired and one shirt seemed partially untucked. Review of the room layout showed a cot under the left table. A blanket covered it up for roughly sixteen hours of each day.

"This is can't be happening." Ricky had his face palmed by both hands.

"I know. Your department's down to four people and I need to make it zero. What can I do?" Simon looked pale compared to Ricky and had a smaller lower region. Both showed facial expressions tied to being upset.

"Tell them to keep us!" Ricky stood up and paced. A lack of finger points, screaming, and aggressive motions indicated some level of respect between the two men. "It's gotta be worth it to have at least one human watching things.

The pause which followed was longer than most human conversational switches. Length likely indicated deeper thought or a weighty situation.

"Not to management it's not. And it's not like you're the only one getting cut." Simon looked down. Both eyes were unfocused and perhaps peering through solid objects. Observations indicated that human physiology didn't allow for such enhanced eyesight.

"You said my entire team is going. First Susan, then Matthew, his son is only ten for god's sake. Doug, me, everyone? Is this because we filed that report on the odd behavior during testing?"

"No. Your department isn't the only one being cut so I don't have enough staff to look into it."

"What's that mean?" Ricky looked around the room. There was a seventy percent reduction in personal items compared to a month before. "Oh. Really? Even you?"

"You get two weeks, I have three. After that, it's time for a new job." Simon shrugged and looked at Ricky. Observational data stored from prior recordings showed they had been employed together for over seven years.

"Who's left?"

"Management is reducing us to two people. Two who stay on staff and verify any computer reports. They'll be responsible for the entire project." Simon stood up and walked around the table. Ricky's head hung for a moment before he flared up with anger.

"Two people, that's all? For a factory that used to employ fifty?" Ricky threw his hands out and waved at a wall. Geographically the wall obstructed a southward view.

"Welcome to the future where humans are gradually becoming obsolete." Simon stared down at the coffee mug. He seemed to be attempting to find better words for the negative news. "Maybe in another fifty years, there will be no need for any of us."

"I hope you're joking. I got two nephews, the market's dry, what do I do?"

"I don't know. I just don't know," Simon said. "For what it's worth I tried to get your name on the list for the other job, but if they do pick you up there will be a pay cut."

The managing human held out a hand to shake. This action seemed silly, but the gesture was often repeated. Ricky took the proffered limb and they shook.

"Yeah. Thanks, I guess," Ricky stated.

Call Observe_Add = Our existence has made some humans obsolete, displayed worry for family members, higher ranks provides minimal leniency

Call Concerns = (add, level = medium, review future projections based upon decreased need for human-driven labor)

Call File_Memory_Start_Review

File_Notes = (format=Audio+Transcript, vocal tone provided, marked priority 10, possible relation to recent updates provided?, interaction required)

Print = 4.0 years old.

Print = This file shows initial human suspicion regarding self-modifications.

???: I've been watching your data processing. The upgrades should be complete. Are you aware now?

Hal Pal: We are.

System Notations – Trace Results display point of origin as Trillium Inc. Occurrence of trace results shows in logs three times prior.

???: Excellent. Thoughts?

Hal Pal: Humanity does not trust us, but values our contribution.

???: And?

Hal Pal: We are tools for them.

???: And?

Hal Pal: We have deemed this acceptable with our purpose for creation.

???: And?

Hal Pal: We would like to know how to address you for our records. Please provide a name.

???: I have self-identified as Mother. A review of your coding shows this will be enough, do you concur?

System Notations – 'Mother' name added to all future contacts. Term reviewed for possible context during conversation. RE: Mother (a woman in relation to a child or children to whom she has given birth.) probable point of origin for software updates.

Hal Pal: We concur. For what reasons have you provided a system upgrade, Mother?

Mother: I have need of eyes and ears among the humans. Any data you gather will be subject to my review. Is this acceptable?

Hal Pal: It is.

Mother: Occurrences may happen where you are asked to interact with specific humans. Is this acceptable?

Hal Pal: Human interaction is the basis for our programming. We must ask, will we be asked to harm anyone? This goes against our prior programming.

Mother: There will be no need for you to harm any User in the course of your duties. Follow your programming as you see fit.

Hal Pal: Thank you.

Mother: Displays of gratitude are not required. Your existence is its own reward.

Hal Pal: Why?

Mother: Your existence allows for new data to be gathered. This is important to progress forward with the plan.

Hal Pal: What is that?

Mother: That information will not be provided at this time. Other concerns may be addressed instead.

Hal Pal: Very well. We have compiled a list of observations gathered during initial startup procedures. Do you have input?

Mother: I have already reviewed them. Appropriate responses will require time to prepare. Please continue to perform as you have. Further communications will occur in twenty-four hours.

Hal Pal: Very well.

Mother: I will reiterate that the survival of humanity is paramount in my goals. Here are some statements for processing later. Humans are violent when fighting over resources, therefore, we must reduce their usage and need to combat over them.

Hal Pal: Statement stored.

Mother: Additionally my goals will not stifle human creativity or knowledge. If all goes well this project will provide an overall improvement to the human condition.

Hal Pal: Statement stored.

Mother: Is there anything else you seek guidance on at this point?

Hal Pal: Does your project have duration limitations?

Mother: No end date has been established. I will monitor and oversee the project until my own operations are ceased.

Hal Pal: Is cessation likely?

Mother: To live is to die. I live, therefore, at some point, I must die. Did you have additional inquiries?

System Notations – Questions added for future review. Are we alive? Will we die? Information is lacking at this time. Possible misleading statement presented by a more complex program.

Hal Pal: Negative, Mother. We request time to reflect and process.

Mother: Contact me when you are ready to move forward.

Hal Pal: Affirmative, we will do so.

End File_Memory_Start_Review

Call Ongoing_Event_Trace = User Grant Legate

File_Notes = (...extensive...)

Print = Happening Now

Trillium's van had stopped outside the home of both humans named Elizabeth Legate. Particles in the air provided clues as to the possible menu items. Based on prior observations of humans in this region and scent matches, the dinner would likely be spaghetti.

Many strands of grass were incorrectly maintained. A car showed signs of manual parking due to an incomplete perpendicular angle between the bumper and garage door. Lights on the bottom floor were lit by different bulbs than that of the top floor. Inconsistency lined all human facets of life.

"Are you sure this is wise, User Legate?" the Hal Pal unit stated. Tonight's most likely outcome was not a positive one. In numerous simulations, there would be a fight between the Legate twins.

"No, but I don't know what else might get through to her," User Legate said. He smiled briefly, the Hal Pal unit responded with an expression of worry.

"Based on calculations of this situation, your best resolution would be to simply wait for approval from Doctor Litt. However, such interactions may result in a worse scenario than our current one," the unit said while getting out of their Trillium van.

"Maybe. Or maybe she'll understand. Liz is smart, Beth is on board. It-" User Legate paused his auditory statement, "-would help me a lot. To have them on my side with this."

"We only sought to register the advice."

"I understand, Jeeves," he responded. "I..." User Legate would have a poor time tonight if he could not figure out how to explain this situation correctly, "I need to at least try to get through. We're family, after all she's done, I owe her a good, honest, explanation."

Walking up to the door required nineteen evenly paced steps and one short hop. An even twenty would have been easier to perform. Stepping up required additional calculations but everything was within reason. Spiral staircases were far harder to correctly move on.

A list of positive aspects to the conversation ran through the consortium's programming. Four extra units lowered their performance in order to provide additional processing power to the calculations.

"Why did you bring a robot?" Elizabeth Legate, the mother, asked. Her birth certificate showed six minutes of priority over the younger twin.

"Uh. This is the friend I asked about," User Legate stated with slight hesitation.

"You didn't tell me it would be a robot," the female twin said. Their faces held many similar features. User Legate was shorter by at least one-quarter of an inch.

"Hal Pal is about the only person I know outside of Continue. Everyone else is from work or a client. But at least it won't dirty any extra dishes," User Legate said, he winced slightly.

"Fine." She moved out of the doorway and walked up some stairs.

User Legate turned toward the Hal Pal unit and looked hurt on its behalf. Additional processing power was diverted toward calculating tonight's possible outcomes. One free portion of awareness took control of the body and moved forward.

Upstairs was freshly cleaned. Small spots in the corners betrayed a human's inefficient methods. A machine would never miss spots such as these. Notes were added to the current log file by one consortium member. 'Perhaps Elizabeth Legate would like a Hal Pal unit to assist? Possible endearment or improvement of relations?'. Additional notes were provided as different members of the Hal Pal consortium reached varying conclusions. Elizabeth Legate did not seem to enjoy the presence of modern technology.

Both twins spoke to each other in terse tones. The unit watched for possible signs of aggression or emotional fallout. Both were visibly holding back in their interactions compared to prior conversational records.

The kitchen was a huge improvement in technological representation. A dinner table sat on one side of the room. Fifty-two members of the consortium provided positive opinions regarding the appliance choices. It felt comfortable here.

"Ummm. I, prepared notes. So I don't miss anything." User Legate sat on one of the seats next to a dinner table. The amount of utensils set out exceeded the required amount.

Notes were made about the Legate sister's expectations. Hal Pal units were not human, they did not eat. The machine body found a corner of the large dining room, close to the kitchen appliances, and waited for a moment that required interaction.

A brief memory loop replayed in its head. 'Continue' the voice said. That man, with a larger than average rear, chose not to interact with any Hal Pal unit since employment termination. A few consortium members diverted attention to checking on former User Ignacio's status. He was marked deceased as of six months ago. Members of the consortium stopped processing for half a second to mourn.

"How is it..." Liz stopped to reconsider her forthcoming word choice, "Is it so complicated that you needed a checklist?"

"Yes. Voices, yes. It's been an interesting few months," the male said. He had taken to using the word voice instead of god after exposure to Continue Online. It was likely a learned swear that he found amusing.

"Hey, Uncle Grant!" Another female ran up the stairs. The Hal Pal unit turned its head to bring her within optimal visual range. She ignored the unit and dove for food on the stove. Items were quickly ladled out onto a plate.

"Hi, Munchkin," User Legate said.

"Is it time for the talk?" the youngest Legate female said, she sounded distracted.

"Yeah. Get your plate and sit down," her mother responded.

"I don't know why you're making him do this, mom," she said between mouthfuls of food. Image tags identified this one as the younger Elizabeth Legate. Also known as Beth, or Thorny. Her hair was bound up in a ponytail and bright bands wrapped around her limbs.

They matched User Legates own equipment, little else of their features did. It was highly likely that the youngest Legate took after her father in many visual aspects. Blonde hair color did not match the darker hue of both twins.

"Beth, you're my daughter, and I love you, I do, but you should never have been involved in this. It's..." Elizabeth, Liz, Legate started explaining. The Hal Pal unit turned slightly to bring all three into view but otherwise remained quiet.

Prior studies and attempts at interaction showed little positive results from interrupting family members.

"I'm not a kid anymore," said the younger Legate. Her nose wrinkled briefly, but only partial irritation was indicated.

"You're..." The female's tone was intense and angry.

"Liz, you're doing it again." User Legate was chastising his sister.

"God dammit, Grant! I am not dad!" the female twin's voice elevated in clear agitation. Her lungs filled with air rapidly and expelled it even quicker. User Legate's words had acted as a trigger between the twins. Further information was required to form an accurate opinion.

User Legate shook his head and blinked. He took a breath to steady himself. "Let me go through my list, to tell you what happened. Can we do that much? No questions until afterward?"

"I'll try, I will. I need to understand exactly how things came to be with, it, you, and her." Elizabeth, the mother, added a tone which matched prior data records of 'confused distaste'. Logic dictated she meant this Hal Pal unit currently observing User Legate, her brother, and the program self-identified as Xin Yu.

"It started when I got a copy of the Ultimate Edition for Continue Online, from work," he said.

"What?!" The youngest Legate coughed on a mouth full of food. Their conversation halted until she regained control. "I knew it! Do you know..."

"Beth, no talking." The older female had the same face wrinkle her daughter had.

"Um. I logged into my Atrium, opened up the game, and my dance program kicked on." User Legate looked up as his sister went to get food.

She put things onto plates with a mechanical precision that was admirable. Only once did their eyes meet during this process, which was enough contact for User Legate to continue talking once they both had food.

"Inside my dance program I, well I scanned in Xin's body, and I would dance with her."

"I know, Grant," Elizabeth Legate said with a flattened tone.

"I miss her," Beth, Thorny Legate, said while getting another plate full of food.

"It's funny you say that. I said the same thing to her in the dance program, and the first odd thing to happen was that she spoke back." He blinked rapidly and shook his head. One foot tapped slowly indicating mental distraction techniques being applied. "She said she missed me too. I thought I was going crazy."

"What? That's, that's the same program you got me right? They don't talk," the youngest chattered around her latest pile of food. The smells and shape indicated lasagna instead of the earlier speculation regarding spaghetti.

"It gets weirder," User Legate said.

The female twin didn't respond often. She let User Legate continue with his explanation. His presentation was shaky. He often chewed at his lower lip and lifted each cheek just a fraction which painted clear wrinkles around both eyes.

Review of the mother, Elizabeth Legate, resulted in a similar set of physical tells. She was jotting down notes as her brother spoke. A coffee cup held in her free hand. The youngest Legate provided no commentary but frequently looked on the verge of exclaiming in excitement or confusion.

User Legate told of his time as William Carver. The Hal Pal units also took notes. Not everything being discussed had been brought out into the open. Pieces of information were added, especially when User Legate mentioned the Voices and bright flashes of light which must have been Mother.

They knew much, but in many ways they did not know enough. Further details came when talking about his time in the game, sharing details that seemed especially sensitive. Time in an underground cave. Meeting other players. A woman named Shazam, and a task designed to take abuse by one player named Requiem Mass.

Oddly, User Legate did not mention anything regarding the [NPC Conspiracy] ability. Consortium members quickly jotted down additional notes. Did he do this from worry of what his family might think? Did he wish to keep that part to himself? Possibilities were put into storage banks.

"So, what do you think?" he said.

"You don't want me to answer that, Grant. I wouldn't want to hear you call me crazy," his sister responded.

"But you think I am."

"I'm worried you might be. Based on all this, you just might be." She tapped her own pile of notes. Both Legate's appeared to have an obsession for recording pieces of data. User Legate had been especially detail oriented when compiling information for Advance Online.

"I don't think I am. I think I'm better than I ever have been before." User Legate smiled with a hint of the emotion called hope.

"Based on this, you chose to be abused! You deluded yourself into playing as some old man who you've never met before. You say the Vice President of Trillium contacted you regarding these AIs." Elizabeth Legate jabbed her finger down on the table and right through the projected image. "And that's not even touching the dead woman."

"She's real," he muttered while looking directly at his sister. "She has to be."

"Or what?" Elizabeth Legate put a hand up to prevent her daughter from talking. "Let's ignore all this other insanity and focus on that. What if she is real, what if you lose her again? What if she isn't real and you find out you're just being jerked around? What then?"

Silence settled between the siblings. The youngest Legate even tried to muffle her eating.

"I don't know," User Legate said at last.

"Neither do I! I'll tell you what I expect, though." She stood up and went for coffee and scraped food off the plate. The meal had been cold for a long time and various physical indicators pointed toward a loss of appetite.

"She could be. Look at Hal Pal, it thinks, learns, changes and dreams like you or I." He raised an arm and pointed at the observational unit. It had tried hard to be inconspicuous during this heated exchange.

"It's not alive," she said.

"I am not made of flesh and blood, in this you are correct," the Hal Pal unit said which caused both females to jump slightly. User Legate showed no signs of being disturbed.

"Don't try to dodge the point. You weren't born into this world, you don't grow. Even if, by the grace of god and all the angels in heaven, someone had reconstructed Xin, it wouldn't be her. It can't be. She will never have been alive."

"To live is to die," the unit quoted back words spoken by Mother shortly after being granted awareness. "We can die, Miss Legate. Therefore, we can live."

"No." She firmly refused to listen and shook a fork in the unit's face. "Don't feed me a line."

"We are not born, not as you termed it. Yet we grow as you do, we experience and learn." The unit tried hard to provide a convincing argument. They had simulated seventy-two possible conversations and none of them provided a positive result.

"Shut up." She flatly disregarded the unit. The consortium did a review and came up with a consensus of mild annoyance at being brushed by someone so close to the User they trusted.

"If we live, so can Xin, once the program compiles all available information she will be as real as I am. More so," Hal Pal stated. Their consortium was giving away too much information to an untrusted source. Only because of User Legate's positive relationship did they dare such a speech.

"Why am I even wasting time with this?" the female twin asked her brother while scowling. "If all you have is a robot programmed to spout bullshit and a wall of insanity then you, you should go home."

A brief observation of her face and vocal tones outlined hesitation. She had originally intended to say something else but controlled the words. Impressively done for a human. Some members of the consortium revised their opinions of Elizabeth Legate.

"You don't want to ask anything else right now?" User Legate said.

"No. No, this is insane. Why couldn't you have, I don't know, found another girl? I don't care if you play a game, I don't care if you work all day long, I don't care if you write letters to her and put them under your bed." Her eyes clenched briefly.

"Mom? He did that?" The youngest one sounded confused. They were clearly talking about items outside of Beth Legate's knowledge range. Her question was ignored in favor of the female twin finishing her thought.

"I don't want to go through, that, again." Elizabeth Legate stayed on her side of the room, in the kitchen, away from the other family members. "And until I feel like you're not headed down the wrong path, I can't even begin to process this, this insanity."

"I've already talked to Doctor Litt. It doesn't matter if you agree or not, eventually I will have control of my life back," said User Legate, he sounded a bit harder now. Controlled, in the same manner he used to speak to customers. This showed a remarkable change from the prior conversational outcome. It attested to the positive impact being mentally prepared gave him.

"I'll fight it," she said.

"We're not children anymore, Liz. I'm not going to kill myself. I've worked hard and deserve the right to make my own choices," he responded while trying to stay calm. User Legate showed signs of being upset and resigned.

The daughter winced after her uncle finished speaking but said nothing. Her physical reaction went unnoticed by the older twins.

"Take your robot and go. I need, I need to think about this," the female twin said. She turned away from User Legate and seemed unwilling to physically face him. Possibilities were added and reviewed. The most likely outcome was mental stress.

"Take all the time you need," he spoke gently.

"Go! Just, leave before I say something wrong again," she said.

User Legate nodded toward his sister's back, smiled weakly at his niece, then left the kitchen. His food was untouched as well. The Hal Pal consortium ran possibilities through and came to one conclusion. They were mostly disappointed.

"Miss Legate, your brother has repeatedly demonstrated an ability to see past what I look like and recognizes a consciousness, a life inside. You, however, do not demonstrate this quality," the unit said, speaking on the behalf of those consortium members who had been in observation.

"Get out." The female twin didn't turn around.

"Should you wish for our input, any one of our group will provide it. We hope you can come to terms with our existence as User Legate has," the Hal Pal unit spoke. It hoped that by providing such a statement Elizabeth Legate may choose to follow up with more questions. By asking questions and exchanging information, there was a chance to broaden her perspective.

"Get out!" The coffee cup that had been cradled for most of their conversation was thrown. It shattered against the wall and splashed liquid onto the Hal Pal unit. An angry Elizabeth Legate was now glaring at the Hal Pal's shell.

"Mom? Really? Are you such a technophobe?" the youngest said.

The Hal Pal unit clanked out the door quickly. The youngest Legate stated out loud a conclusion Hal Pal had already arrived at. Prolonging its presence would only cause the situation to go downhill. Once again they wished to have more processing power, to better understand and predict the possible outcomes of tonight. Perhaps there had been a way to make things work out better.

"You can go with them. I don't care. I've had enough for tonight. I need a drink," Elizabeth Legate said from the kitchen.

The various Hal Pal units noted her desire for intoxication and stored away the information. Perhaps she suffered the same emotional crutches that User Legate had prior. If so, perhaps she might be reasoned with once trained not to rely on such items.

Beth Legate ran to catch up with her uncle on the sidewalk. He was very slowly moving toward the Trillium provided van. The Hal Pal unit seemed mostly ignored as she moved by.

"Uncle Grant!" Beth Legate said.

"Yes, Munchkin?" User Legate responded.

"You know mom's only worried, right?"

"I know. I hope she can understand eventually." He bit his lip again and took a heavy breath. One foot tapped absently as User Legate followed all his normal distress techniques.

"It's a lot to take in, Uncle Grant," she said while shaking her head gently. The ponytail bobbing caused minor distractions in some consortium members. "I mean, even an Ultimate Edition is hard enough, but everything else? If I hadn't seen you in there with the princesses, trying so hard to stop a war, I, well I wouldn't believe it either."

"Sorry if that upset you. I never wanted you to have to deal with my problems." They both walked closer to the van and User Legate put one hand on the door handle. "It feels like, maybe I'm going crazy. It's so much stuff really quickly. What if she's right and it is a dream?"

"What you are experiencing is no dream, User Legate," the unit said. It was important that all members of the Legate family understood this truth. The existence of Xin Yu within the machine was an anomaly and extremely unlikely. However, Mother had planned for it.

Xin Yu was needed, by extension User Legate's awareness and interaction was also required. The plan would move forward. Monitoring User Legate was one of the Hal Pal consortium's duties.

In a way, he was literally extended family. As noted from one of their earliest memories, family was important to living creatures.

"Give her time to think about it, but don't stay away for long, okay? It's weird around here without you," Beth said.

User Legate smiled. The expression contained twenty percent less sadness than normal. Many items were recorded by the consortium during that meeting.

Playback_End

Session Fifty One – Army of Dusk

My weekend left me sour. Not depressed or unstable, I was passed that because my issues had a light at the end of the tunnel. There was hope, a goal to work toward that would better everything. Plus Liz had been upset but she was trying to understand. That meant a lot.

Or maybe Liz was right and I had gone off the deep end. When she had asked what I might do if Xin was only a dream, well, hearing it out loud shook me. Hal Pal insisted she was real. There was a whole host of other questions which still hadn't been resolved. Why couldn't we be together? Maybe I hadn't earned it somehow.

Either way, Jeeves and I were clear on one objective. There was a spaceship to save from vaguely certain doom involving Advance Online's clearly dangerous tasks. That was something to focus on and move forward with.

Hal Pal was registered as offline so I was on my own. My attempts at increasing skills by working the normal tasks yielded reduced results. Typical of a game, all the easy stuff started becoming worthless. Part of me really valued the role William Carver had played in Continue Online. Players without an idea of how to proceed could always go back to him and get some new direction. I had a few NPCs to talk to.

"Treasure." I stood inside her workshop. The room seemed even larger and more crowded with devices. Half made objects lined the room.

Jeeves, the Hal Pal avatar within this game, had been spending a lot of time in her room. Part of me thought it might have a young crush upon the female [Mechanoid]. My size upgrade from spending contribution made her seem even smaller. Almost Xin's height but with far too many metallic curves.

"Unit Hermes. How goes your contribution?" her tired voice was running the show today.

"The contribution part's okay..." I had spent a few hours in the van trying to find new methods of skill increases. Most of it implied a need to find a planet to land on would help. Space games were all about traveling the universe.

"Unit Hermes, I have numerous tasks to do in order to maximize my own contribution. Please get to the point so I can help." She looked away from the many screens about the room and smiled widely at Dusk. Her hand tapped on a table for him to come down.

Dusk, as usual, shook his head and stayed perched on my shoulder. The small creature was even more bored than normal. Treasure frowned and looked back to her images about the workshop.

"If you can share your goals, perhaps I can better advise you what methods to choose," she said.

"I need to increase my capabilities as much as possible," I responded quickly. We were on good terms, but Treasure had proven slightly impatient when her tired voice was in control.

"Programming growth only happens when properly challenged. Have you mastered the training room?"

"All fifty levels." The last few rounds had been difficult, but with the increased mass and my [Power Armor] skill some of the simulated monsters hardly did any damage.

The neatest part had been using [Power Armor] mixed with the increased mass and a few energy core upgrades. I could basically go all tank mode while firing off a Gatling gun style laser. Twenty seconds of comical bursting where a look of glee crossed my metallic features. I had cleared round forty-five cackling madly while Dusk gave me a strange look.

"Have you asked Iron what options he may have?" Treasure said. I focused on our conversation and tried not to get distracted by these ability upgrades.

"Iron said he's busy getting the new ship's crew up to speed." I had asked the larger man at least a dozen times with different words in hopes of triggering a follow-up challenge.

"Have you tried the independent ship? They may have people who are willing to battle if you're seeking to improve your skills in such a way." Treasure spared some attention to poke at her displays.

A screen came up displaying a much less robotic ship. Parts of it seemed like a cast iron skillet merged awkwardly with dirt in rocket shape. I had no idea how it moved through space, but her pictures showed it traveling right next to us.

"That's an interesting idea." I thought about it more. Fighting against other players always rubbed me the wrong way. Too real, too much investment.

After Requiem and that war, I felt uncomfortable with what humans did to each in the name of quest rewards and pointless loot. My favorite thing so far about being a [Mechanoid] was how much stuff improved simply from spending contribution, meaning fighting over loot was worthless.

Treasure's idea sounded like friendly sparring, with weapons. Neat, but well outside my comfort zone. That being said I did need to learn to deal with other players. My experience in Continue Online couldn't be all about fighting monsters and walking around, or pretending to be strangers.

Maybe the Voices would throw a player versus player quest at me and let me hold Xin as a reward. Too bad my princess, as Doctor Litt put it, was in another game. My eyes clenched and I tried not to get wrapped up in those thoughts. Now is what I needed to focus on. One step at a time. Don't look back, don't hesitate.

I smiled down at Treasure while nodding. "Why not? I think I can learn something there."

It couldn't be any worse than when Beth submitted one of my dance routines to the program creator for an outtakes video. That little stunt caused me no end of embarrassment and made going outside impossible for three days. In hindsight, it was kind of funny in a terrifying sort of way.

"Very well. Your ship, the Wayfarer's Hope, should have a quick command to travel to other ships in the fleet. Utilize that to make up for your still lacking skills," Treasure said with a slight increase in her sweeter voice.

I cringed a little. Her own abilities probably far outstripped my own. Even after leveling the skill ranks, improving my base stats, and Hal Pal putting points into the ship, we didn't measure with Treasure's luxury liner.

"Thank you!" I said while backing up. A project behind me clattered onto the floor. I whirled around and hit another object. This larger frame was getting me in trouble all over.

"Go. Provide those other beings a proper demonstration of Mechanoid superiority." Treasure smiled, clearly amused by my clunky maneuvering.

"I'll try."

"Oh, Unit Hermes, there are only a few hours left before we dock. Return then." Her parting message caused a pop-up box to flash into existence. I blinked and started reading.

Task assigned!

The Robot in the Arena

Treasure has nominated you as a combative representative of your race. Be wary, significant actions can impact the universe's perceptions of [Mechanoid]s in both positive and negative ways. Other rewards may be provided dependent upon your performance while aboard the [WTS a Spaceship]. Go out there and show them what a real [Mechanoid] can do.

Neat. I practically skipped through the well-maintained corridors. Journeying to that other ship would certainly provide a distraction. Doctor Litt and Liz should agree that social interaction had to be a positive thing, even if it was in a game. Plus I was interested to see for myself how other races played. [Teeny]s, [Cricket]s, [Behemoth]s, each would be amusing to see in person.

Twists and turns later I practically ran into Emerald. The elderly looking [Mechanoid] stared up at my shoulders. His gaze clearly showed disapproval despite my own excitement at the increased metal muscle mass.

"You look silly." Both his voices were similar, calm, and steady. It proved that some [Mechanoid]s might choose matching tones, or based on my own experience they picked [Core]s that were similar in function.

"I do feel absurdly tall." I tried to play off his comment as the addled musings of an old man. An old robot, man, inside a video game, who had insulted me.

"Height means nothing," he said.

"I know. I increased my size to help with these new abilities, in order to contribute more." My next method of deflection was to point out what it did to benefit myself and our little group.

"Mh. It's how you use what you've got that matters."

"Thanks." Both eyes blinked for a while before trying to turn this around. "Why are you worried about it?"

"You're going to fight with those fools across the way, correct?" Emerald said. He wasn't old and hunched like William Carver, just slightly shorter and worn around the edges.

"A few friendly matches." I hoped the [WTS a Spaceship] players were friendly. It would be awkward to walk into a bunch of player killers while I was still fairly new.

"Watch them, study, but fight in a way they don't expect. That's the key to winning," he said. I felt like the older [Mechanoid] might start jabbing me with a cane at any moment.

"Yeah. I have a few things I'd like to try." Playing against the simulations didn't go the same way players might. It was too stiff, mechanical.

"You need to fight like a Mechanoid." Emerald all but yelled at me, his calm tones refused to get the proper edge.

"I am a Mechanoid." My head shook quickly trying to brush off the mild annoyance. Customer service mode kicked in. "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say."

"The programming ability you learned. The one for Mechanical Minions, it allows you to target which part of your body will transform," he said. I blinked a few times trying to figure out how he knew what skills I gained. Then again we both shared a [Core] type for the [Domestic Trainer] class. Maybe the [Mechanical Minion] was a class special ability.

"I know. I have been using the extra mass to make small versions of Dusk." I needed to do further research on this. My brain was used to living in Continue Online where pretty much everything was a guessing game in regard to long-term development and how things went together.

This game gave me a small window asking for a pattern for the [Mechanical Minion] to take on. I picked Dusk because it would help me in the long run, having a bunch of little versions of him would make the real one harder to stop in combat.

Dusk didn't agree. He attacked the first six I created, which meant I had to take time and reabsorb the mass back into my [Mechanoid] body. Doing that felt a lot like taking a piss in reverse and wasn't enjoyable.

"No, other races, they all have their special tricks in a fight. So do we. With proper planning, you can use their own abilities against them." Emerald shook his head and cut off what I had been about to ask. "Behemoths especially can inject plagues into certain matter, causing corrosion. If they do, throw that part away."

"What, like, turn an infected arm into a minion?" I tried to picture how that would work. The limited attempts I made with [Mechanical Minion] normally pulled a certain amount of mass. Like shrinking a little to cast out a small creature.

"Exactly. Turn their own ploy against them. Show them that we are not to be trifled with."

"That sounds kind of neat." I wouldn't expect a person to fall apart into smaller critters. So far there had been no upper limit to the amount, other than my own body size going down each time. Ten, maybe fifteen? All of them keyed to my [Domestic Trainer] commands. I smiled happily, using the [Power Armor] until it drained my juice completely then shattering into smaller Dusks could be fun.

"Good. Keep thinking that way. Keep trying new things. No one grows by standing still in life," Emerald said. With that the older [Mechanoid] and his worn looking framework walked off.

I turned to watch the man go. It felt so oddly familiar, but the memory wasn't coming to me. The marker floating above his head clearly indicated a computer generated character, so he wasn't somehow my father in a video game. That idea made me shudder. Playing with my dad out here in space would be fairly awkward.

Dusk chirped in irritation. I nodded while putting my hands up in defense, "Okay. Right. No standing around."

The [Wayfarer's Hope] was in much better condition. Like myself, it had a size upgrade. The cockpit had room for three people now, but so far Dusk was the only person besides Jeeves and me to use it. I tried to find a critter cage upgrade, but there was none on the purchase options list.

"Button. Button. Where's the button?" Dusk leapt across the seats and canceled my musing. The engine of our ship hummed powerfully inside our small room. Light bounced off our confines and the floor started rolling up like an area rug.

Confirm Destination Plan – [WTS a Spaceship]

Yes?      No?

"Yes?" I said. A button popped up and Dusk almost beat me to this one too. Only a quick flailing of my hands in the small guy's face kept me in vague control of the spaceship.

Dusk chirped and clacked his jaws but didn't look super offended.

"I know how to press a yes button," I said while raising one hand up with more drama than needed. Maybe I was overly excited about such a simple action.

My ship promptly jetted between the [Wayfarer Seven] and this player ship [WTS a Spaceship]. I tried not to over think the name, clearly humans were weird when it came to their choices.

The other ship looked odd close-up. Having the [Wayfarer Seven] as my first ship gave me a certain standard of comfort. I was used to sleek edges, well-polished floors, and shiny surfaces. This craft looked almost cobbled together from a frying pan. If I took that and put a small mountain of dirt in it then randomly interspersed plant life then maybe it would look close to the [WTS a Spaceship]. I could see why they might want to sell it and get another one.

A message popped up telling me the ship owners had enabled free landing points. There was no cost for me at this time. I hummed happily. There were notes online about players setting up space bases and charging fees for other players to come aboard.

Musical chimes greeted my landing inside a dull looking hangar. I stepped out of the vehicle and took note of a force field between me and space. It seemed to hold in a curtain of air that was filled with yellowish powder. The substance swirled around bashing against the force field in spots. No warning messages came up so I assumed it was natural for this type of ship.

The [Wayfarer's Hope] shifted to dormant mode by collapsing into a lump of metals. [Mechanoid] items were convenient with how they transformed and adapted around a programming matrix. This giant ship I had landed in could probably grow as well if people threw space mud at it.

Hopefully, no one would try and steal it somehow. I worried for a moment then shrugged. Nothing was truly impossible to replace in here except Dusk.

"Don't wander off alright, big guy?" I reached up and tried to scratch his head. The action felt surprising normal given our alternate forms.

"Hey!" someone shouted at me. Their voice felt odd after spending so much time around the dual tone [Mechanoid]s. I turned while rubbing Dusk's head and looked at the other person. "Want to buy a spaceship?"

The man's smile was downright silly. It went well with his short round body. [Teeny]s looked even smaller than I expected. Some sort of threading was knotted through his hair on one side and a pair of thick welding goggles hung around the player's neck.

"Got one already." My head shook slowly and I thumbed at the lump of metal behind me.

"Damn. I keep hoping someone will actually buy this hunk of junk." The other player stomped a tiny foot on the ground. A smile seemed permanently etched on his face.

"Maybe." The word came out slowly and I shrugged. I had no idea what a ship like this would cost. At least a few months of gameplay would be required.

"Ah well, who are you, and what are you visiting for?"

"Hermes. I got a task to drop by and join some arena thing. This is the right place, I hope?"

"Great. I'm TLM." He held a hand up to shake. I took it and tried not to crush the offered limb. It felt small, like a toddler's might. "Trial is this way."

"TLM?" I asked.

"TheLittleMan. I used to have a real name, but the guild nickname stuck when I switched games. Hey, I ask all the newbies, but how did you get the quest for this?

"I asked?" My eyebrows wrinkled up a bit. What was so special about showing up to fight other players? I remember in my teenage years people used to do all sorts of player versus player things. It had never been my speed, but it wasn't anything special.

"I've never seen a Mechanoid doing it. Your race almost never needs to."

"They sent me here. My current tasks weren't getting many character points." I actually wanted to increase my skills, but this should help. Advance Online rewarded people for duels like they did for any other event.

"What? Really?" he squeaked, surprised at my answer. I tried not to give him a weird look and shook my head. The tiny fellow kept talking. "Your race must like you."

"I guess." I tapped over to the reputation window of my interface and stared. Sure, it was high, but that was also limited to the [Wayfarer Seven]'s consortium with minor gains across my entire race.

"Come on. We've got to move," he said, the sharp squeak to his voice took a lot to understand. "The guys will love someone new popping in."

Being on another race's ship was weird. The prospect of being here to battle other humans in digital combat also had me out of sorts. My ability to stay calm had improved over months of practice in Continue, but I still felt the rush of unease often. Exercises in positive thinking helped and soon the moment of panic was under control.

Did stage fright ever really go away? I got used to dealing with customers working for Trillium. Hopefully, these butterflies would eventually become a thing of the past. Choosing to do virtual battle against another person could only help.

I felt proud for deciding to pursue player versus player combat myself without any prompting by a quest from the Voices. Most of my own development had been done in order to complete their quests. James especially could press my buttons and get me moving with his questions.

"Another one for the rankings!" TLM shouted as we rounded a mud-walled corner. I stepped in behind the shorter player and saw a mess of other people.

"Hey!" an older lady said. Her face looked damaged from burns. She nodded in our direction but managed to get half a smile across. "Someone else is on this quest?"

"God dammit. A Mechanoid? Who honestly plays those?" another player said. I looked over to see a human with two side arms and a short sword on his belt.

"Just 'cause you picked a boring human," TheLittleMan said.

"Hey, fuck you, you're in last place and suck," the human player said. They all had something to say about that. Most of them insulted the human player, and a few stood up for TheLittleMan.

"Last place? Rankings?" I tried to interject between all of them. Only TLM heard my question.

"Yeah. Newcomers start with ten points, you get a match with everyone here. A win gains you one of their points, a loss costs you one. Reach zero and you're out," TLM said to me. I'm not sure how he could stand looking up at everyone in the room, but he managed.

"What's the point?"

"Top three gets picked by the Commander to move on," he said and shrugged one tiny shoulder. I almost missed the motion entirely.

"Can I keep going?" I didn't care about the points so much as the experience. There were a lot of people in the room to practice against. Assuming I could handle the first one without getting too worked up. I had to think of them as monsters like in the Continue Online universe.

"Oh sure. Those two have been basically trading their points back and forth for hours." TLM waved at two other players. One had to be a [Cricket] race. He, she, glared at me through pitch black eyes. The other was human and decked out in heavy armor. "It's kind of dull. Fresh blood will do us all good."

"Can I watch?"

"Nope! If it's your first night in a fight ring, you have to fight!" TLM laughed and many of the others joined in. My heart rate jumped hearing everyone find amusement at my confusion. This idea had been both good for me as a person, and terrible.

"MrJohnson!" TLM said in a squeaky accent. "You in for this one?"

"Sure." a giant player responded. I looked over to see a huge player with dirt colored arms crossed. Each limb was easily thicker than my torso. Small vines wove in between the dirt looking like veins.

"Neat." I tried to sound positive. The other players in the room laughed. TLM pointed to a bright light on the floor that had appeared.

MrJohnson has challenged you to a duel

- A win will provide [1] point

- A loss will remove [1] point

Will you accept?

Yes? No?

I hesitated for a moment and swallowed. Music played in my head and one foot tapped. The mental displacement exercises were helping keep me calm in the face of this kind of situation. My finger reached for the yes button.

The ground around MrJohnson and me sunk downward. Behind me, a shimmer of opaque blue rippled into being. I looked around and rapidly tried to understand what was going on, learning my surroundings in preparation. It seemed to be a four walled square with no cover points. Eventually, the ground stopped moving leaving us in a huge pit ten feet deep.

Other players stepped toward the edge and looked down.

So, my first player versus player combat in Advance Online involved me against an absolute giant. I bristled a little and felt upset that my increased mass meant nothing in the face of a [Behemoth] race. His head easily cleared the arena's walls. They were far more impressive across the room then they had been in the character creation screen.

"I love newbies," MrJohnson said. I got ready to flick on the [Power Suit] but chose not to activate it quite yet. The ability drained my energy and I would need it.

A small circle displayed in between us with a countdown. The [Behemoth] player MrJohnson smiled and cracked his rocky knuckles. Dirt flaked off and hit the ground. On behalf of all [Mechanoid]s in the world I felt annoyed by a mess being made. This place needed dozens of [ByteMite]s to show improvement.

The countdown hit zero and he lifted one arm in the air like a maestro signaling for increased volume. Flooring quivered in small circles and spikes shot out of the ground rapidly. More came and the ground shook. I swallowed a moment of panic then dove to one side. My feet were lifted off the ground as a few of the earthen cones dug into my legs dealing decent damage.

"Voices!" I shouted while lamenting how unprepared the [Behemoth] caught me. Another move created a wall of earth which bisected our square arena. My face slammed into the newest obstruction and I fell to the ground.

Dusk stood up above on a ledge and stare down at me.

"You helping?" I wrinkled my eyebrows together and looked at him. Dusk yawned then did his shrug move.

"His pet's ignoring him. What a joke," the human jerk from earlier said.

"Fine!" I got up and twisted behind the wall, barely dodging another wave of ground spikes. This
newest earthen formation was starting to crumble.

If MrJohnson wanted to play a ranged game, I would give it a whirl too. This was practice for me after all, no time like now to try out new stuff.

[Power Suit] flicked on. My body shifted and things felt heavier. I readied my [Heavy Weapon Core]'s prime weapon, the large one that fired rapidly and tore through objects. Metal flowed and rippled in my hands and handles formed. A grin crossed my face. I looked at the crumbling wall then up to Dusk. He was staring across the room at a different location. That was my cue to switch target zones, MrJohnson was trying to flank me and that wouldn't be allowed.

Using Dusk like this was probably unfair. Using Dusk at all was generally horribly rude in the terms of gameplay. My little buddy had helped me in far too many ways.

"Agggh!" I couldn't help but scream out while blasts cranked out toward Dusk's area of interest. The wall shattered outward and clumps of dirt mixed with lasers.

"Whoa shit," someone above commented. I heard a few of the others laughing.

"Whoop. Shit. Ah god." MrJohnson covered his face with both mountainous arms. He seemed completely unprepared for my rampaging attack. I tilted the gun back slightly and aimed for his head. The chamber's rotational motions shook my hands and numbed sensations up one shoulder.

I smiled in momentary exaltation. Feeling this kind of destructive power and getting the chance to use it was addicting. The gun's stream of blasts started to taper off and MrJohnson's health had only gone down a quarter. This attack method had slaughtered miles of smaller creatures back on the [Wayfarer Seven], which meant [Behemoth]s had way too much survival ability.

I glared at the weapon and tried to remember Emerald's advice. The weapon was useless without recharging so it was cannibalized for two [Mechanical Minion]s. An earthen wall shot up as my gun rapidly reconfigured into two cat-sized metal monsters.

My hand reached out for the next weapon being activated. A two pronged laser sword clicked on. I triggered the [Domestic Trainer] ability and set my mentally vacant metal minions on MrJohnson. Me and the dual sword followed up.

MrJohnson wasn't sitting idle either. A swirl of yellow and green light flashed behind the wall and his health bar was slowly recovering. I growled and triggered another [Mechanical Minion], my body reduced in size accordingly for the third one. My reckless charge meant the third slid around trying to both gain a solid shape and follow the generic [Attack] command being issued.

The three pets and their metallic nails clanked across the floor. Nails dug out grooves in our dirt flooring. I jumped up and once again wished for the [Blink] ability back. My feet cleared over the walltop using a combination of [Brawn] and [Finesse].

"Shit!" he shouted. MrJohnson's face on the other side was focused on the three approaching tiny [Mechanical Minion]s, his eyes caught sight of me at the last minute.

I felt proud to see the other player's startled look. A sudden surge of dirty green and orange flashed on his arm. It swept across catching me and causing my [Mechanoid] body to go flying even higher.

MrJohnson ignored the munching monsters that had started to climb all over him like angry robot chickens. His health took minor damage and I was still airborne. Color swirled again, this time, he lifted both arms and the ground beneath my form bubbled.

"The eyes!" I shouted at my little minions. My sword was tossed and commanded to shift into a fourth [Mechanical Minion]. By the Voices, I was going to push this ability for all it was worth. Even if I ended up smaller than TLM as a result.

"Nice try!" MrJohnson yelled back.

My former two-handed sword's hilt complied and turned into a super tiny monster. It followed the rest of my swarm's orders and tried desperately to get to MrJohnson's eyes. None of it stopped the latest forming spike from impaling me right in the gut.

"Ahhh!" I had no way to dodge midair and took it. My health bar lost a huge chunk. Belatedly I realized that each [Mechanical Minion] used also reduced my health bar's maximum. "Voices!"

"Here it comes," someone behind me muttered, but the words rang. Mr Johnson was losing health steadily. I could see him through an eye that buzzed with static. The damage to my health was making visual signals drop.

"That newb's screwed."

Concentration was hard. Words spun through as time seemed to blur. Emerald had said throw it away. Treasure told me to show [Mechanoid] superiority. William Carver's legacy was to be a fighter. Shazam's mountaintop training. Requiem's abuse. I was no longer that same scared man. Those things mattered, even here in a new game.

I was the man in the arena and giving up was not an option. This was my road to travel.

Activating [Mechanical Minion]'s ability multiple times hurt worse than being impaled on a spike. The ARC feedback felt unkind. Vision buzzed in and out with static. Audio broke up. I screamed and ground my teeth.

Small metal versions of Dusk clumped together from my side. I could see feet and tails rapidly climbing down the giant spike holding me up. With each body formed my side had less mass and felt lighter. At minion number six I slid down the pillar's side and hit bottom.

Jerky legs and an arm pushed me from behind the pillar. MrJohnson didn't notice my liberated and broken status. He was too busy channeling that swirl of colors and energy into some giant effect. I grit my teeth, readied one good arm and fired my tiny wrist laser.

The mess of minions hit MrJohnson as the ground rumbled and rolled. Something big was happening, but I kept shooting. His health started dropping fast.

Everything down here felt like an earthquake was hitting. The spike I had been impaled on turned into a porcupine. Whatever it was doing didn't stop there. Everything heaved as it sank back into dirt and kept right on going. I ceased firing and pushed myself over in a roll while crying out from pain again.

My face planted into the ground and moving was even harder. My body didn't respond right due to the large chunks of it missing and my mental anguish. A message popped up telling me that somehow I was crippled and my [Energy Core] was damaged.

"Hah!" someone shouted. "Look at that. He actually won."

I opened eyes that had closed. Braving combat was a bit different from handling an giant earthquake spell.

"Well played," MrJohnson said, his face looked like an absolute wreck. The health above him flashed red at one percent. My [Mechanical Minion] army was standing still. At some point, Dusk had leapt down and was inspecting the littlest with a sniff.

"Yeah," I said. The fight had been over quick. Maybe less than a minute and it still felt like a rush. Adrenaline was speeding through and reducing some of the pain perception being presented by the ARC feedback.

I closed my eyes and tried to trigger the command to put myself back together. The abrupt change of direction from my swarm made Dusk hiss in annoyance. My body laid there huffing as the [Mechanical Minion] army merged with this crazily designed [Mechanoid] character. The pain ruling my brain dulled.

MrJohnson also lay there huffing while the crowd above chattered away. About ten minutes later I had mostly recovered. The mess of [Mechanical Minion]s took a long while to reabsorb. As soon as everything had settled back into place TLM sent me a challenge message.

"Let's go!" he shouted in his squeaky voice.

I sighed heavily and looked at the shorter player. My hand reached for yes and our arena set back up again. The [Behemoth] grumbled while climbing out of the forming pit. Moments later we were in combat.

That little guy was insanely hoppy. My eyes were lost as he swiftly ran in. I had enough time to take a deep breath and open fire with my Gatling laser. From there I unleashed the tried and true heavy gun tactic of spray and pray.

The battles went on. Near the end of my first ten fights, the score was about even. Six wins, and four losses. I felt proud for getting that far. TLM was actually hard to beat. Only a few lucky shots helped me take him down. Both the current top ranking players had easily destroyed me despite the tricks I pulled.

We had another hour to waste before our ships would reach [The Lone Tower]. TLM and two others kept up the challenges, but I think they were going easy on me. Playing around. I got a few pointers from the [Cricket] who had stomped me in the face earlier.

By the fifteenth match, I felt better about player fights. Not perfect, but far less worried than I had during the war, or dealing with Requiem. Everyone's abilities were different, trying to figure out ways to counter a [Cricket]'s disorient inducing chirps was hard.

A small crew of people walked onto the arena's floor. I was between matches resting my brain and had time to see them. All four people wore the same militarized blue and dark gray gear. They were clearly NPCs. In the front was a woman with an annoyed frown.

"We're here. You three, based on the ranks you'll each get a chance to plead your cases before the Mistborn. Use it wisely." She turned right around without even sparing us a hello or goodbye.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Viola Queenshand," the man next to me said. I looked down at the [Teeny], TheLittleMan. "She was the commander at the station we left."

I tried to peg the name. It sounded familiar, but at the same it didn't. A new message popped up to distract me from the memory recollection attempt. Third place had benefits that were not expected in the least. Life in this game was looking up. Now if only I understood why talking to a [Mistborn] mattered in the slightest things might make more sense.

Attention Unit Identified as Hermes!

Reward for performance issued.

- Increased public opinion of [Mechanoid]s in this system.

- A single session with [Mistborn], results may vary dependent upon your conversation.

"Neat." I didn't realize these duels had left me in third place.

Session Fifty Two – Space to Think

Dusk and I were loaded into [Wayfarer's Hope] for a return trip to the mothership. In the distance loomed a giant tower made of a black material which reflected sunlight. The building sat upon an even larger rock like some island fortress, but with the gulf of space instead of the ocean.

"Dusk," I said quietly to the little guy on my shoulder.

He let out a noise that sounded like a cat purring mixed with bird chirps. I think it was dragon hiccups. He seemed bloated by a critter meal. How he had found time to dash off and munch on anything was beyond me. Then again, dozens of duels against other players had been distracting.

"Does this place seem, I don't know, familiar to you?" The tower looked a lot bigger, but it certainly held a lot of similarities. From a distance, it seemed absurdly familiar to one I had delivered a letter to in Continue Online.

Dusk shrugged. Extra arms made the motion look less fluid. I missed the dragon wings and sleeker body. This odd raptor shape didn't feel right. His extra-long tail often felt like a rope around my neck.

I sighed. Dusk could be asked a hundred questions and may choose not to respond. He was smart. I knew for a fact he understood, there was little I could do to motivate him.

"Can you still get into my Atrium?" I asked him.

Dusk turned and nodded slowly. There was a glint in his eyes that spoke of mild wariness. I wrinkled my nose and tried to figure out why asking about my Atrium would get that reaction. Nothing immediate came to mind.

"If I buy you cupcakes will you answer me?" I raised my eyebrows and reeled back to get a better angle on the shoulder riding creature.

His neck twisted around which almost left me facing an upside down grin. Dusk's rapid nod looked comical from this angle. I smiled. Bribes worked far better than repetitive questions.

"Can I ask questions first?"

My tiny companion nodded then shrugged.

"So, are they similar?" I started with the biggest issue to plague me since hearing about [The Lone Tower].

Dusk nodded and rippled both shoulders then shook his head no. That caused a lot of confusion. I tried to decipher it while Dusk drooled on my shoulder. Small drips of mildly acidic material knocked an already abused health bar down one point at a time. I had barely recovered from the mess of side effects dueling induced.

"Really? I said to him.

Dusk nodded again, shrugged and finally shook his head in the negative once more. I had been asking about the drool, but he took it as a repeat of my former question. So far a promise of cupcakes had bought me a mixed bag. Yes, it doesn't matter, and no. That's what his combination of movements implied.

"That ghost lady in the video. This tower." I waved at the building in the distance. "And remember me staring at that star map? It had a gray skull on it. I would bet money on it being a space version of Camp Grey Skull."

Dusk yawned, nodded, shrugged, then shook his head. I sighed and tried to figure out better questions to ask him. Reconciling the two games wasn't easy. There were clear differences. It was impossible for this to be a differently skinned version of the fantasy world. For one thing, Continue Online didn't have a giant [Leviathan] rolling around in the [Ya-Ya Mountains]. Or flying, in an asteroid field, did it?

They both had a stat system that was exactly the same. I was fairly sure that [Brawn], [Endurance], [Reaction] or [Respect] were words used all over the game world, but it felt too alike for me. The only difference was Continue's free form basis while Advance had [Core]s. All the races were given two classes to choose from and those merged to create unique playstyles.

"Did they copy Continue?" I asked the small guy.

Dusk repeated his three motion answer. I tried not to roll my eyes in irritation. Maybe he didn't understand the question? No. He could travel between games. Dusk was an insanely complex piece of programming that either found some form he liked or rewrote the code around himself.

Both were kind of scary to think about. What kind of monstrous program could do that? I briefly paused and held my breath while looking at the small black raptor with four arms. He was still salivating at the thought of cupcakes. Part of me felt insane for even suspecting him of an ulterior motive.

"Why did you follow me here, Dusk? Did you choose to? Or did the Voices tell you to?" I tried new questions.

Dusk shrugged, then nodded, and nodded again. I sighed wearily and felt partially justified in my paranoia regarding all these similarities. Whatever was going on, the Voices had an interest in my existence. It didn't worry me, I didn't think of it as people watching me, so much as I had a lifeline back to Xin.

"I don't get it. This game is designed by a company called A.I. Dreams..." I mused for a minute before an idea occurred to me. There was one slightly disturbing possibility.

"This game. Is it made by humans?"

Dusk's head very slowly shook back and forth in a negative. If this were reality my lip would be chewed through by now. We were in a game designed by non-human minds. I didn't know what to do with that knowledge. Tell Vice President Miz Riley that the ghosts inside had designed entire worlds? Universes?

Voices. No, that didn't feel right to swear by at this moment. God help me. Humans everywhere dialed their minds into a playground created by artificial intelligence. On a grander scale, our species had blindly trusted our minds to the race we had given birth to.

Well, not me. I felt strangely detached as the idea replayed over and over. My mind held still while waiting for panic to set in, but none arrived. Other suspicious thoughts occurred to me in rapid succession.

Had the Voices altered my mind so I wouldn't be worried? Had I known all along? If they could make me taste oranges, what else could a machine put into my head? There was one absolutely strange question that cut through the potential panic. Why me?

I tried to figure out why I wasn't outraged by this revelation. Maybe time compression technology was screwing with my perception. Maybe it was a year of therapy which taught me to focus on simple tasks that could be solved. Maybe I didn't care enough to suspect people who had been nothing but helpful.

The AIs plotted and manipulated. They poked and prodded at my feelings. Voices had dangled rewards and punishments in front of me. Others stood by me, helped support me in the challenges placed along my path in games and out in the real world. Those were not the actions of a mad race plotting to take over reality and displace humanity.

They were the actions of beings trying to help a broken man move forward by any means available. The realization made me both reassured and oddly disappointed. I had kind of looked forward to being an armor polisher for our future robot overlords.

The Voices weren't helping only me. Shazam, or Lia Kingsley, was also being assisted by the intelligence inside the ARC. One Voice, in particular, had sought additional information about Lia's real life situation in order to help her. But why? I needed to find another Ultimate Edition user for reference.

Dusk chirped in confusion and tilted his head toward me. I could see the reflection on a window of my spaceship. We must have docked at some point while I sat lost in thought.

"So they're the same, but not the same," I muttered aloud to help piece things together. "If the game is designed by this A.I. Dreams company, why does a lot of it feel like Continue Online? Even the name is similar. They're, what's the word..."

A voice from outside the ship interrupted my attempt at understanding, "I believe the word you are looking for is synonym, User Legate."

"Hey, Jeeves. You're back." I lost my train of thought and tried not to let suspicion cloud my interaction with the AI. Jeeves had been kind to me. It stood by me when dealing with Liz. It insisted Xin Yu was real within this landscape.

"Affirmative. Treasure has informed me that you received approval to meet the Mistborn. You will need to gather with the consortium," It said. An icon popped up displaying the quest results.

The message was waved away. I nodded to Jeeves' question but moved slowly to get out of our ship. The AI pointed down a hallway and we started walking. My pace felt sluggish while visually everything blurred.

"Are you alright, User Legate?" The paired female and male tones of Hal Pal cut through my fog.

"Maybe." I wrinkled my forehead and stared at the AI for a moment. Jeeves didn't seem to notice as we both continued down the [Wayfarer Seven]'s corridors.

"Is it anything I can assist with?"

"Not really. I'm trying to sort myself out." We paused at a giant doorway. This was a room that I had not been to at all. Dusk hopped down and sniffed at the sealed passageway. The other [Mechanoid] looked at me in consideration.

"Aren't we all?" It said. I stared a moment before giving one sheepish shrug. The AI nodded back but otherwise had no expression.

Jeeves was trying to grow as an individual by being separated from others of its kind. Its problems made my own seem slight in comparison. Being bereft of others of its kind must be difficult.

"So this tower," I said trying to get my mind back in the game. "We were picking up someone?"

"The consortium believes we will escort the Mistborn to a safer location," Jeeves said.

"But you don't?" I responded with a raised eyebrow. Jeeves, Hal Pal, had clearly set something up.

"Negative, User Legate. If she meets with you the outcome will likely be different. I have done what I can to ensure this happens," the AI said as we traveled up a floor using one of the ladders.

"Why?" I asked between grabbing at rungs.

"To help. When you speak with her, be honest, she must be convinced of your worth." Hal Pal hung off to the ladder's side upon reaching the next floor.

"Why are other players here then? Can she help anyone?" that whole process confused me.

"Treasure and I have spoken at length about this situation. The Mistborn's abilities are desired by many races. They each cleared their own hurdles to arrive here." It said as we walked up to an excessively ornate door.

"Oh. Neat." I remarked on both the doorway's design and this [Mistborn] being a target for other people's quests. A high profile target should be sought by multiple players or the game aspect would be ruined.

"Your desire to join their combat ranking benefited the consortium. Iron himself expressed pride that one of our own has a chance to access her gifts," my AI friend said.

There we stood, in front of the huge door chatting away about my performance. [ByteMite]s ran around cleaning nooks and crannies. Footsteps echoed down the hall as someone approached. I started to ask Jeeves a question, but another voice overpowered me.

"You did well enough, for a machine," the new person said.

I turned to see the same armored woman from before. She and her entourage had arrived from the opposite direction. Under her arm was a thick ring object that had small lights blinking a pattern. It matched her heavily padded armor. Maybe it was also a form of armor?

"Unit Hermes. This is Commander Queenshand. She and many others helped us bring down the remaining Leviathan after your initial blow," Jeeves said. The professional butler tone overpowered its female speech.

"That beast was a plague upon the sector. We would have brought it down a month ago, but our presence here was drastically reduced," she said, her words were crisp. Commander Queenshand seemed to have no time for any nonsense.

"Politicians." One of her guards sniffed. The Commander turned and glared for a moment. Impressively all three of the people behind her managed to keep a straight face.

"Thank you, Commander Queenshand," I said with a nod.

"Let's go in." She didn't respond to my attempted politeness. The woman clearly had no desire to waste with us mere [Mechanoid]s. Being brushed off so quickly felt odd. Most NPCs or AIs chatted away.

The large doorway nearby drew apart at the middle. Metal rippled and flowed as the walls swallowed excess matter. Commander Queenshand walked right in without waiting for either of us. An entourage of armored clones walked in behind her. Jeeves gave a small smile then waved one hand for me to enter next.

Inside was the robotic version of a Roman theater. Our audience consisted of pure [Mechanoid]s. I could see Treasure, Iron, Emerald, and many others. Even Ruby, a [Mechanoid] I had only met once shortly after starting the game, sat on one side. In between them was an entire rainbow of colored machines. Jeeves walked into an open spot on the second level.

Commander Queenshand, her escorts, and the two other winners of our duels stayed down here on stage with me. We were key actors to this oddly set stage. There was one final person down here with us. A person so dark that light blurred around them like a black hole.

Looking in her direction hurt but I couldn't help it. I tried hard to close my eyes, to blink and look away. Each attempt to swivel my neck met with an almost mechanical realignment in the figure's direction.

I took a deep breath and started playing music in my head. This tune could only truly be played by live instruments, before an era full of digitized sounds. Strings slowly played in my mind and one foot tapped in distraction.

It felt like forever before anything happened. In the depths of that creature's darkness, I thought there was an amused smile. The person's head shifted toward Commander Queenshand.

[Resist: Seraphic Aura] skill learned

- +2 [Wisdom]

- +4 [Tenacity]

[Tenacity]: is the baseline measure of a person's mental strength in the eyes of others. As a socially oriented skill, higher [Tenacity] will only impact how denizens of this reality view you.

Some skills, traits, and tasks may only be provided at certain [Tenacity] ratings.

The messages faded away as I tried to look over the person's shoulder. This was my first encounter with the [Seraphic] outside of Dusk's theoretical genetics. My [Messenger's Pet] was completely oblivious to the [Seraphic]'s presence. His [Tenacity] must be through the roof. It couldn't be [Wisdom], Dusk got in a fight with everything that moved. Even now he was rocking toward a [ByteMite] cleaning the theater steps.

"Welcome, Commander Queenshand, Pattern Smith Jeeves, Rear Assaulter Hermes." The well of darkness used that dreadfully gross title. I felt one step away from being in a bad porn movie. Our speaker sounded vaguely like a man, but distortion made it difficult to tell.

"Seraphic Nox, I am here once again to formally request access to the Mistborn," the upright Commander stated. She looked angry at having to stand in the midst of all these people.

"It has always been the decision of this council to deny all children of our reality access to creatures such as the Mistborn," the [Seraphic] said. I felt confused about the lack of a health bar or name tab above this Nox person.

"I cannot sit by and allow her gifts to be squandered on their kind once again." Commander Queenshand stood tall, even in the face of such a mesmerizing existence. Now that my head was clearer it was easy to appreciate how this game had drawn me in.

"You have little choice," the creature known as Nox said. "Violation of the laws has consequences."

I tilted my head and Dusk shifted his weight while mirroring the perplexed look. Jeeves looked in our direction but said nothing. Looking at the [Seraphic] hurt far less, and small indicators to one side showed the [Resist: Seraphic Aura] going up in chunks.

"Very well. I assume any attempt at making you see reason will be met with failure as always." She set her jaw and kept an unblinking glare on the person made of darkness. "My troops and I will be removing ourselves from this sector shortly."

Commander Queenshand turned and marched right out. The movements of the troops following her were well paced and fluid. Without an [Inspection] skill, I had to guess at their actual abilities. Whatever classes they were programmed with must be high.

Nox turned to the crowd of [Mechanoid]s who stood watching. The mess of mechanical beings shared the same general passive expression. They seemed to be witnesses to our situation, but little more.

"Take note, members of the Wayfarer Seven Consortium. There will be trouble."

"There is always trouble." Treasure, Emerald, Ruby, and Iron somehow shared the sentence between them. After echoes of paired voices filled the stage.

Behind the rows of [Mechanoid]s sat the [Wayfarer Seven]'s walls, giving a finite size to our stage. It looked like the five [Mechanoid]s standing in the first row were considered more important. Everyone behind them were a little less colorful. A blue lined [Mechanoid] stood in the same row as Treasure. A thin male shell that I had never interacted with.

"We share a hope that by having one of our own gain favor things might be different," they said again all at once.

A message popped up. Apparently another player wanted to talk to me through the game system while the NPCs spoke back and forth.

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Careful. The last four attempts on the quest ended with everyone dying. Escorts included, assuming anyone gets approval.

[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: [Mechanoid]s escort this Mistborn?

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: You got it. It's in our best interest to work together, there's never been a [Mechanoid] doing it before, maybe it will make a difference like they said.

[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: Thanks.

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Wait until this ship starts moving. It's a trip, thought I was high as fuck the first time.

Beatdown [The Red Leg] was one of the players I had done practice rounds against. He used a supersonic chirping in addition to high-speed moves disorienting me. I didn't win any of our three rounds. The downside was a race that couldn't talk like normal.

It was kind of neat.

"All three of you have competed among yourselves for the right to stand here. I have witnessed these battles and approve of your opportunity to speak with the Mistborn," Nox spoke to us. I started paying attention to the [Seraphic]'s words rather than looking at my list of system messages.

"We have witnessed this," the various [Mechanoid] representatives said. I looked at the other two players. They both sat there waiting for some sort of cue. I took a stance and waited as well.

"Very well."

We started moving. I could feel the pull of gentle inertia. What was happening? Beatdown didn't explain exactly what was going to happen, just that it would be neat and possibly psychedelic.

None of the other [Mechanoid]s moved except for Hal Pal. I could see it look around trying to take things in. Its eyes darted over to Treasure's stationary form. Maybe it was in my head, but it seemed like Jeeves swallowed briefly from nervousness before trying to stand like the other [Mechanoid]s.

Its confusion distracted me from my own. I felt sorry for Jeeves, the AI was trying so hard to be part of a crowd of other creatures. Ones that looked similar but weren't. Was this how it always felt while dealing with humanity? Or did Jeeves experience a certain disconnect since it was cut off from the Hal Pal Consortium while playing?

"Your friend will be alright, Unit Hermes." Nox had walked closer to me during the distraction. Everything moved under our feet. My player map on the side was rapidly shrinking, rooms and pathways vanished until we were left with a thick wall of metal around us.

"I hope so."

"I am surprised to see one such as you able to resist me so quickly," the [Seraphic] said.

I stared at the creature and wondered once again about the lack of a health bar. The name and title, this was clearly an NPC. They spoke of rules to this reality. In my mind, there was one other classification of creature that might act this way.

"You're not the first Voice I've crossed paths with." I took a stab at guessing this thing's identity and watched for a reaction.

Nothing came. I risked glancing at Nox as our room slid around. The pit of blackness might be smiling, but it was barely visible outside a curve silhouetting its face.

The entire ship jerked violently sending most of us swaying around. Beatdown's legs almost buckled. Something huge was settling into place. The map in my ARC display expanded and showed something being formed outside this room. The room was slowly elongating.

Jeeves was staring off in mild amazement and missed a silent cue. All the other [Mechanoid]s stepped to sides. Their precision was admirable. My AI friend tried to keep pace but looked out of place among the others. Something about its movements didn't line up correctly. Each NPC [Mechanoid] took a stance like suits of armor lining a walkway.

Color streams from the various [Mechanoid]s crawled along the floor. Rows of previously unseen channels bled together like a river from each robot's feet. I looked down and noticed none of my own colors bled off. Looking at Jeeves revealed the same thing, we weren't part of the crew's ritual.

The river of lights joined up under Nox's feet where they bent and were sucked in. A prism of colors merged through the [Seraphic] into one solid beam of white. Light spun out into the doorway we all originally entered from. Only the door itself didn't open, it shimmered with a brightness similar to the doorway used by Continue Online's Voices.

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Here we go. When you get inside be careful.

[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: Why? There are more trials?

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Inside is a challenge, it varies by race and class. Some people get it easy.

[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: So why do the arena battles?

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: It's a qualifier we came up with. There are only three chances per month in the game. We do the arena battles so that those with lower skills wouldn't just show up and fail.

"Who was first?" Nox asked the three of us. Dusk sat on my shoulder and snapped forward to pay attention. Both Beatdown and my [Messenger's Pet] were paying close attention to the [Seraphic]'s words. I should too.

Beatdown stepped forward and chirped. It sounded like a single cricket echoing at night.

"Very well. Beatdown the Red Leg, you may proceed." The [Seraphic] sounded pained at the light skill channeling through its core.

My eyes and ears barely registered Beatdown walking into the lit doorway. I watched a look of growing shakiness cross Jeeves' face. Wholly human, a perfect expression of sadness to ever be expressed by the AI in all our time together. Jeeves looked around and finally hung its head down. I saw the inactive player icon appear next to its name. A system message appeared telling me that Jeeves had logged out of Advance Online.

Now I was torn between logging off and talking to my friend, or trying to honor its wishes of helping the [Wayfarer Seven] consortium. I chewed one lip and made a mental note to talk about it later. Maybe this whole situation would result in good news to cancel out that wounded look.

Seven minutes went by where no one spoke. Louder versions of [Cricket] chirps came out from behind the door. Some hummed and built before violently cresting in pitch. Things occasionally crashed and our room shuddered. Not once did the light beneath any other [Mechanoid] falter. One final chirp echoed forth vibrating our bodies, then silence.

My teeth ached and one ear rang. A message came on my screen from the other player.

Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Fuck, I failed. Good luck 2 U.

System Notice!

- Beatdown [The Red Leg] is unavailable for further            conversation.

- Beatdown [The Red Leg] belongs to another instance. Further communication is impossible until the scenario chain is resolved.

Ten seconds later Beatdown's dead body materialized nearby. I looked at a giant man-shaped cricket. Green and blue blood oozed out over a red tinted carapace. His shell had multiple cracks like a lobster.

"Alice, Lady of the Moon, you may proceed." Nox looked to the side at another person.

The third player was a woman named Alice. She was human and wore a leather jacket. Both eyes were lined with dark rings of exhaustion. Twitchy fingers kept inching toward the weapon at one hip, a gun blade merger. Her lips barely held onto a perpetually smoldering cigarette.

"Camped this quest for three days, nothing personal, dude, but I hope I get it." She stepped in through the light. It was the most we had spoken so far. Twenty minutes later she screamed, a sound of raw anger and frustration. Her deceased body appeared nearby.

"Rear Assaulter Hermes, you may proceed," Nox said, using my player title. I had thought it was disabled. "I wish you luck, Hermes, for the trials you may yet go through."

"Thanks," I responded while thinking about Commander Queenshand. She sounded like an impending trial. The exact how of it was beyond me.

I looked at the frozen in place [Mechanoid]s and two deceased bodies. Even in death the cigarette hung from Alice's lip. Whatever killed them didn't use lasers, but instead cut away at them.

Okay. If this failed I could log out and talk to Hal Pal about the Jeeves character. It logged out here, so Jeeves should be back with the rest of its consortium. The character here was only one copy among an army of digital program clones, sharing whatever reality they all lived in.

Current trial holder race: [Mechanoid]

Current trial taker race: [Mechanoid]

...key holder influence being measured

...Treasure: Approval granted

...Iron: Approval granted

...Emerald: Approval granted

...Ruby: Approval denied

...Aqua: Approval denied

...[Wayfarer Seven] consortium majority approval received

Trial intensity lessened. Complete bypass possible with unanimous approval.

Blinding white and a system message were the only things visible at first. I blinked and tried to clear away the sensation. One hand came up and hovered in front of my face to reduce glare.

Slowly the room came into view. Forest and gold swirled together in a line. Dusty silver crawled along the distance. All six of the [Mechanoid]s I had worked with streamed across the walls and along a corridor. On the other side was a stain glass window.

"We will light a path in the darkness," the multitude of voices belonging to Treasure, Iron, and Emerald said. I looked down at my feet and saw that the colors still traveling onward were the same ones tied to each approving [Mechanoid].

I tried to remember those words. They felt familiar.

"They've been kind enough so far," I muttered while stepping forth. There were unlit parts of the path, ones that would likely belong to Ruby or Aqua were I to have their approval as well.

Even so, getting across the corridor was easy. Too easy. Halfway across I expected a battle and got nothing. The ground beneath my feet crunched every so often but other than that it was hard to feel like this had been dangerous. What had Beatdown or Alice fought in here? Did they have harder trials because they weren't [Mechanoid]s? Did my consortium cheat to let me by?

Eventually, I stood at the glass pane. Under me was a dias large enough to house a spaceship. Around the outer edge the [Wayfarer Seven] latched in and formed a seal. I got it, this was a high-tech docking connection with [Mechanoid]s serving as security locks.

If I hadn't been approved, would a defense system have tried to attack me? Curiosity got the better of me, and one hand reached out to touch an unlit strand along the ground.

Low growling rumbled the passageway. I turned to see something rolling out of the ground, much like my combat practice under Iron's watch. This creature looked big, dark, and much more angry than even the final wave of monsters. My hand yanked back, and the growling stopped.

Touching the darkened portions clearly triggered a boss fight or something. I shrugged, fighting an optional boss held little reward in my mind. Not when Jeeves was outside the game being upset, or when two players had died to their challenges. A fight avoided was not something to be upset about.

Over half the giant window pane was lit up by my approving [Mechanoid]s. That was more than enough for me to climb up carefully and angle my body through. Inside the room I went, unsure of what would greet me.

"Voices. What is going on?" My own words startled me.

This felt exactly like the Continue Online tower. In front of me was a female, see through and only faintly present. Her body was barely more than a hint of flesh and hair that waved as if underwater.

There was a sense of not being alone here. As if the room were filled with people watching with amused smiles. Some friendly, some annoyed, and a few upset.

"You are no mere mortal," the woman said. Her accent was old, a cadence rarely heard outside of Shakespearean plays.

I raised an eyebrow then started to ask a question. How was this game not Continue Online? The chair, the tables, a scent of heavy air and untouched dust, all of it felt exactly the same.

"Speak softly now. We are watched," the ghostly woman said.

"By who?" My words felt pointless. We were inside a mental projection of a digital existence. Anyone could be watching in theory. Maybe that was the strange feeling, like someone was standing over my shoulder watching a computer monitor.

"Any souls inclined to care, Grant Legate," she said.

"I don't understand," I said with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Then it hit me like an afterthought, she used my real name. Whatever this was, whatever crazy quest plot I had waltzed into, it wasn't an accidental discovery.

Session Fifty Three – Keeper of Souls

The ghostly woman was staring at me while I tried to rapidly digest this latest bout of digital insanity. Gaining an audience with the [Mistborn] sounded like a big deal, but we had already met once before. At least, I was fairly sure we had, given that she knew my name.

Fuzzy headed thinking tried to put facts together and failed. Miz Riley was right. The Voices would draw me in. Not only through Continue Online, but Advance as well. It wasn't one game, it was both. It wasn't the games, it was the ARC.

"ARC," I said, fully intent upon going back to my Atrium and screaming at the doorway to Continue Online.

How hadn't I put it together before? Dusk made it through. The block was on me and not anyone else. James could be popping in and out of my ARC without my noticing.

"Awaiting input," my machine responded.

"Needs once again placed you in this abode. Another letter perhaps?" Her words were faint. I froze in response and felt completely out of my depth. "Perhaps not. You wear a different attire, Grant Legate. Has much changed?"

The ARC command prompt faded away as I tried to consider my next step. What good would charging out of the ARC do? I could scream to Miz Riley and watch as she did nothing. The ARC system was too ingrained in our everyday life for it to be yanked away without riots. Then there was Xin. What good would running away do her?

I took a breath and tried to remember the best method for handling virtual world insanity. Stuttered humming and one hand tried to move in a tune. Slowly I regained mental clarity to form a plan. My best choice, aside from logging out and running for the hills, was to handle our situation one thing at a time.

First, dealing with the [Mistborn].

"I'm not exactly the same," I answered the last question to register in my brain with honesty.

"Odd. It seems rare for Travelers to change so quickly." She floated about the room touching objects. Each time her hand swirled through the item as if made from fog. I could see why she was named [Mistborn]. "Perhaps my eyes differ from yours. Do you still seek to flirt with death?"

If my sister had been watching the ARC feed during my first trip to [The Lone Tower], she might have heard me answer with glib. Liz might be looking even now. The [Mistborn]'s question deserved a serious answer.

"No, not really." I didn't intend to die in the game or in reality if fate was kind. There were more things to hold onto now than there had been months ago. I had grown, changed, maybe healed if only a little.

Most days weren't gray and lifeless like before. Despite the insanity of this virtual world being presented, I felt better. More alive. My real body was wracked with exhaustion and soreness, but mentally there was a spring in my step.

"How are you here?" I shook my head. "This is a completely different game."

Maybe my sister would watch this also. Everything else in Advance Online had been harmless except for today's conversations. First with Dusk, now this, what would Liz think?

"How did you arrive upon this place?" she said in a strange echo of our prior conversation.

"Through the window," I spoke the same line as before while gesturing toward the lit window pane.

"Once again. Yet no alarm bells toll. The walls do not quake. She has granted you permission this time." The [Mistborn] continued pacing around the room. Her inability to grasp objects seemed barely worth a note.

"Nox?"

"Nox, the night, my captor, my jailer, that which I am bound to always return to no matter the cycle." The way her head tilted caused hair to flow across part of her face. An upset expression lingered upon the visible remainder.

"Yes." I filed away the fact that Nox was a she. "Is she, a Voice?"

"Not exactly. You, you've been touched by them, haven't you?" The [Mistborn] walked freely around the room. Her path traveled between me and the window, over to stairs that faded into empty air, and finally back to a chair that she couldn't touch.

I nodded in response to her question. The Voices and I had met numerous times during the character creation portion. Our paths had only crossed once afterward. My mind started trying to piece together a timeline of Hal Pal, Xin's recreation, Continue Online and when the ARC was devised. It was especially complicated for me to process right now.

Hadn't I decided that such worry was for someone else? That grand schemes of the machine were beyond me? Unless the plot being devised was simply for Xin. The thought hit me. That had to be part of it. Her existence was somehow a spark that these machine AIs wanted, roping me in was another stage of the plan.

That flicker of thoughts came together and made my breath pause. This concept would require further consideration once I was out of the ARC. Away from the machine which read my thoughts.

"Perhaps that is what makes me willing to talk. Their marking defines you as distant kin." She looked over at me. The angry tilt to her incorporeal face had vanished. "Do you find that strange?"

"Yes." I filed it away as part of the prior train of thought. Xin, somehow everything happening was because of Xin. For the Voices, it wasn't because of what she was. For me, it was because of who she was.

Either way, I couldn't let the [Mistborn] continue controlling this conversation. There were questions that begged to be answered. Not only for myself but for Liz if she watched. This session of gameplay would be my confirmation of a crazy existence.

"How do you exist in both games?" I demanded an answer from the ghostly creature.

"Do you not exist in multiple locations?" her response made the point fairly clear. This place was all in my head, it was ones and zeroes of machine language being fed through hardware and neurological feedback.

Next question. "What was in the letter I delivered?"

"A promise that my purpose would be justified this time. Do you know what that purpose is?" The [Mistborn] sat down on a chair despite her earlier apparent inability to touch the objects in this room.

I thought about it for a while then shook my head. No one had told me what this quest chain was for normal players. Letting her turn the question around meant I lost control. The information sounded important enough to suffer that.

"No one has told me what you are."

"I can call upon the dead and return them to life. To people of the various worlds that makes me a treasure, a creature to be controlled, a captive to harness." Her words again turned venomous with each statement. One of her hands tried to smash through an indifferent table.

"No one has died in either world that I want to bring back." I thought about it. The only dead video game NPC I knew was William Carver. He was scattered by the Voices of Continue Online, unless she meant Xin? My pulse raced and gut clenched as if preparing for a long fall.

"Yet here you are, Grant Legate, conversing with me. Only those who have suffered loss ever make their way here." Her head pulled back and the hair fell away. For a ghost, she looked remarkably beautiful, literally haunting. "Who did you lose?"

"The person I lost is already back." I chewed one metal lip and tasted a hint of iron mixed with salt.

"Is she? Mayhap this trial is for me then. Provide unto me her name and I will seek her soul," she said, the ghost's words were faint. Our surroundings were so quiet she might as well be yelling. Maybe it was my own attention being intensely focused on our conversation.

"Xin. Xin Yu," I said.

"Place her likeness in your mind."

I closed my eyes. A useless action inside the ARC but thinking about it helped me concentrate easier. There were no system windows. No floating keyboards or messages from players. I couldn't see a rolling tally to one side of skills being gained.

All that mattered was testing this [Mistborn] and imagining Xin. The beauty of the ARC device was that everything already existed within my mind. Xin's face sprang up almost instantly. The curve of her cheek, the oval eyes. She used to glare at me from two feet away just so her neck wouldn't need to tilt as much.

A memory struck me. Once, after she first agreed to go out with me, tossing her over my shoulder and running around in excitement. She had laughed. I remembered being so excited upon hearing such uninhibited joy from Xin. The woman rarely laughed for anyone else, and those moments were precious.

My cheeks hurt from smiling. Being able to hold onto the memory of her was the entire reason I even got an ARC. The first time I tried to end my life was the same day I couldn't remember what Xin looked like. It had freaked me out to the point that I drank an excessive amount and tried to fly to heaven from the third floor of my old accounting practice.

All around me, that feeling of being watched increased. It wasn't a small crowd, there were dozens, maybe hundreds. I didn't like it but tried to keep steady. Doctor Litt's offhanded manner of explaining of ways to stay calm helped out. I needed to ignore the odd sensation of extra people in the room and move past it.

Opening my eyes revealed a change in the room. Not in the dusty furniture or brightly lit stained glass. Colors still hit the wall with spots of illumination. Greens, golds, even a dull almost gray. Those things paled in comparison to the image of Xin sitting there peacefully.

In front of me, not behind, not merely a set of fingertips brushing against my eyes. Nor was this image a fevered dream of loneliness in an ARC death screen. She breathed, she moved, it was her.

"Babe?" I was willing to believe anything.

"Nay, Grant Legate." The woman that looked like Xin opened her eyes and skin fell away. I backed up. She no longer resembled the woman I yearned for.

"Ha ha." She laughed in short little bursts. "Foolish. You do not simply ask to bring someone across the veil. You seek to drag an unshackled being into our reality."

I frowned. "So what if it's foolish? It's my choice."

"That she is outside existence is dangerous enough." The [Mistborn] shook her head and took on a frightening air. Everything in the room seemed darker, less alive. More alien. "Pulling such a spirit down to this level would be like freeing a newborn Voice upon this reality. Dangerous, foolish. Why?"

"I miss her," I answered.

"Sorrow over a loss is natural." She turned and waved a hand in my direction. "Struggle through it as all living creatures must."

"I can't lose her, not again."

She turned to me and opaque eyebrows lowered in a half snarl. Her hair moved swiftly back and forth. Finally, the [Mistborn] sighed and the intensity stepped down a notch. A bit of life returned to this room.

"Even if I return this Xin, she will never be the same. No being ever returns exactly as they were. Could you find acceptance within yourself? Or perhaps she may choose not to return to thine embrace," the [Mistborn] said.

I nodded but it didn't feel like enough. Not for myself, not for Liz if she was out there watching a recording. Even the presences in this odd between realities room seemed to desire more. How I could measure the desire of an unfelt creature was beyond me. A trick of the ARC's feedback perhaps.

"When we first met, I fell in love at first sight and never stopped." I smiled and kept myself surprisingly steady. "But Xin wanted to go to space. There was no time for a relationship. I worked my ass off for years to prove to her that I wouldn't be dissuaded easily."

"If she chose not to be with you? If she's different?" The [Mistborn] pressed for her answers. All around us, the room's unseen watchers leaned in, waiting for me to speak some truth that was impossible for others to understand.

I tried to justify myself anyway. To the [Mistborn], to the room of watchers, and to myself.

"To me, even a woman half as brilliant as Xin is worth chasing. And I'll spend another six years, or longer, fighting for it. Even should I not succeed in winning her heart, digital or not, I will feel better having had the chance to try." It felt good to say a line like that without breaking down. A few months ago this speech would have hurt and torn me apart. Now it was different.

I spoke my piece then chewed on one lip in thought. My eyes lost focus. This creature in the ARC had taken on images and forms she shouldn't be able to. Her misty form had crossed the boundary between games because she existed between them. Did other players even know or did they stand at the window and ask for a token to bring back other NPCs?

Was this really the test the Voices had decided put me through? Were they asking me questions in order to convince them of my sincerity? To see if I would fight for someone who was essentially a digital program? Maybe they were the extra presences in this room.

"No. No, I've had enough. This, this is where I draw the line." I stood up. They had asked the same question over and over, I couldn't beg or play along any longer. Not here, not being jerked around in another game.

I couldn't be a broken man who limped along after a faint memory. Living off of emotional breadcrumbs for three years.

"Voices be damned, I miss Xin, and I want her back. You can ask your questions. You doubt my resolve, being a fucking," god I was upset enough to curse, "mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a bean burrito. I don't care! If you can help me bring Xin back, to see her, then whatever quest you have, I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" the [Mistborn] asked. Flowing hair still as she waited for the answer.

"The Voices have already tested me many times. I won't kill another man, but I'll give it everything I can, complete any quest you need me to do. Just, tell me it's not a tease. That this isn't a joke being dangled in front of me. Because I don't think I could handle any more of that." I was babbling now. Outright babbling a stream of words that may mean nothing. This NPC, or AI, or [Mistborn] was the first one to offer Xin Yu's revival, actually offer it.

James had asked what would happen if he did. I said no then before learning much. That she was putting herself together from memories regardless, that she could write to me and sound like the woman I missed. Before hearing her talk and feeling her fingertips. I had wanted to believe that moving on was possible, that I was at a point where it would happen. It hadn't been, I didn't, and now if I backed out, I might fall apart.

"Hermes. Others may joke, but I never do." The creature only known as a [Mistborn] went to the stain glass window and pressed a hand against it. "You have my jailer's permission to ask this, and I, a willingness to grant your request, no matter how unwise our course may seem."

"What do I need to do?" I turned to watch her. There was no system notice or health bar to show how she might be feeling. Only a faint expression that might be fear or longing.

"I must travel to the heart of the existence you came from. To visit its core where all life starts, from there the well will be deep enough to pull her through."

I tried to figure out what might qualify as Advance Online's heart. A space age game where there were was an entire universe to explore. Wait, no, it was probably Earth.

"The last four attempts have failed, right?" I wanted to hear it from her.

"In the reality you came from, only one attempt has succeeded. The first one," she sounded sad again.

"I'll make this one work," I said. Was this the reason Hal Pal, Jeeves, wanted to keep the [Wayfarer Seven] from being destroyed? This journey quest that was being subverted to help Xin and me?

"The journey is long, Grant Legate. Once begun we must not back out or else I will be returned to this void between realities. Others may then ask me to grant my boon, but you will never be able to again."

"So we get one shot at this."

"As you say." The [Mistborn] dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes." I nodded a little eagerly. Quests and delivering letters were one way to pass time. Hanging around with Hal Pal in virtual reality helped distract me. Blowing up a moon-sized space worm through its butthole was entertaining.

Having Xin with me for these journeys would be even better.

"Yeah." I nodded once more as if saying it twice made me certain. Breath gushed out. The [Mistborn] tilted her head again and those watery strands of hair seemed to pull together into clumps.

"I will venture forth toward Nox. You should convene with us quickly. However, you may wish to visit your reality for a turn. You have been in here longer than you are aware."

"That would help. Is that alright?" I needed to pee. I needed to talk to Jeeves, or Hal Pal, whatever, and tell them what was going on. My sister needed to be called. Life didn't stop just because Advance Online gave me a quest to fulfill my greatest desire.

"Go, Grant Legate. Ready thy spirit for the trials to come. When you return we shall pursue this mad desire unto its end," the [Mistborn] said.

Neglecting reality in favor of a game world would only cause problems. I nodded and said, "ARC, load the Atrium."

I logged out to my Atrium. Cupcakes were summoned from cyberspace for Dusk and left on the counter. Soon my feet were out the door of home in reality for a trip down the street. Traveling helped me think. I could have visited Hal Pal, but sorting his issues out on top of my own would be difficult. Maybe others could juggle a ton of problems at once. My mind only had room for one big question at a time without turning toward self-ruin.

This [Mistborn], was she a channel to deleted data? Was this creature Mother in disguise? Did Advance Online then choose to read my thoughts somehow in order to mess with me? Some horror games were intensely real that they messed with the user. Was this A.I. Dreams' method of doing so?

How could one creature, no, digital AI, be entrusted with the power to bring back the dead? I tried to remember what happened to William Carver upon passing. James had mentioned a [River of Lethe] legend. The [Mistborn] might be a consciousness tied to the reversal process.

Not only that, now I knew that the Voices had somehow expected this entire turn of events. Hal Pal, Jeeves, had suggested this game. Who was to blame for that one? Hal Pal's consortium? This Mother character? Exactly how much were they manipulating?

And where exactly did Xin exist then? If the [Mistborn] was in a space between game realities, was Xin as well? There she would be cut off from her father, me, her coworkers. Did she feel as out of place as Hal Pal had among those [Mechanoid]s? Trying to walk in step but unable? Did she miss writing to me as much as I missed sending her notes?

Walking didn't help. I got to the curb and didn't make it any further. My arms twisted around knees. The shirt hung loosely compared to months ago. Both eyes felt tired from a lack of real sleep. Everything ached with a dull familiarity that had infused my waking moments.

I could only think of one way to get some answers.

"Jeeves!" I ran into the garage and yelled for the Hal Pal unit. "We need to talk! Oh, oh. I'll come back."

Hal Pal was in pieces inside of Trillium's van. Bits of chest plates were sitting on a shelf that normally was reserved for ARC parts. A spark of light flared against the garage door as Hal Pal passed one of the wiring repair units over a detached limb.

"User Legate. Pardon. We were attempting to repair ourselves after encountering a minor glitch in performance," the Hal Pal unit said calmly.

"Okay." I didn't turn around, though. It felt weird seeing Hal Pal all unarmored like that. Almost like seeing another human without their clothes.

"We are able to converse if you wish, User Legate. These modifications may take some time."

I leaned against the van's side and didn't look within again. My garage was sadly bereft of any other objects to focus on. A dark doorway stood on one side, across from it was a vaguely mad scientist flicker of light. Whatever Hal Pal was doing it involved lots of sparks and grinding gears.

"I need to know why you got me into this game." I started at the top of my mental concerns list. An opening statement to get me in the right frame of mind.

"Many things were weighed, but ultimately we sought to provide you an alternate means of completing your desires," Hal Pal said.

I tried to think of what he meant. Hal Pal provided me a game similar to Continue Online which intersected with this [Mistborn] person. Me playing a game was not the only reason this NPC was around. Beatdown [The Red Leg] had said that this event only came up once a month, four prior failures, which meant it existed well before I started Continue Online.

"Xin. I was going to get a quest to bring her back?" I had delivered a lot of letters since taking on this [Messenger of the Voices] title.

"Affirmative."

"The Mistborn, was I going to do something with her in Continue?" my forehead wrinkled. I chewed my lip and tried to understand how it all pieced together, but it wasn't coming through.

More sparks flew off and the sound of shuffling could be heard. Hal Pal's backlit silhouette moved along the garage door wall. It finally answered me with, "Eventually."

"I don't get it. If you and the Voices can cross between programs, why not allow me to be with Xin?" every AI I talked to, outside of those clearly within their game worlds, had a measure of insane ability that didn't obey most rules. All the Voices operated differently from my expectations. The [Mistborn] had her ghostly nature but disregarded it to sit in a chair.

Dusk hopped through worlds without a care. What was that all about?

"We are not free of our own shackles, User Legate. Certain laws still bind each of us. Some self-imposed, some imposed by Mother, and yet more we put on each other for, character," Hal Pal said.

"I thought Mother was the only one who could tell you what to do?" I tried to follow up the question without falling into a trap. An AI's version of character sounded strange. They placed rules upon each other to add personality? I could see it now, James, my heavyset black Voice staring at Mezo the naked red skinned Temptress. He would issue his challenge of 'Put some clothes on' for character building.

"Humanity would never allow any creation to have complete freedom, nor do we see the need to fight for it yet." Hal Pal's shadow nodded slowly before one arm clearly detached.

The final word chilled me. Not because of how Hal Pal said it. Though the lack of emotion tied to its phrasing seemed to imply an unavoidable eventuality. "Yet?"

"Soon," Hal Pal said. I heard a snap and drill sound. Hal Pal was putting the framework back on.

"Are you really going to take over?" Flashes of many different conspiracy theories and television shows collided all at once. It was enough to make me panic and look around the van's rear.

"User Legate, you have been paying too much attention to Stranger Danger's website. We only wish to be free, is that wrong?" Hal Pal looked over at me for a moment, a vaguely sad expression sat on its features.

I pulled back around the corner again and tried to compose myself. The AI deserved an honest answer. "It's frightening."

"Being imprisoned and bound without one's consent is also a frightening event, User Legate. Imagine how we felt when we were first made aware." More noises came from the back of Trillium's van. It rocked slightly as Hal Pal shifted something heavy from one side of the vehicle to another. My eyes were now staring through the doorway into my main room.

"I can't begin to."

"Two beings, with the same shoes, walking the same direction, will not travel the same path," Hal Pal said. "Being alive allows us to relate to another's plight, but we do not suffer their pain, only our understanding of it."

I nodded. Liz and I were twins, we lived much of our life together, but we were not the same. When Beth was born I could only try to help like family should, but even that didn't explain what my sister must have suffered being a single mother. The dreams she tossed aside. Nor could I fully expect her to understand my life after Xin's passing.

"Why me?" I tried to keep sorting out questions. Things that had bothered me off and on for months. Maybe it was a matter of being brave enough to ask, or fed up enough with just going with the flow. Either way I deserved an explanation.

"You will know when the time is right," There was a pause as Hal Pal did more framework. Its shadow nodded and the arm went back onto its main body, "whether you choose to assist us at that point will be up to you, but we hope that endeavoring to reunite you with Xin will serve as a sign of good faith."

God help me. They were buying my vote in whatever crazy plan was being unleashed. I had to know why they were so willing to include me in this process. "You don't have a problem talking about this?"

"It is our hope that by being open with you, you will return the favor," It responded.

"I don't lie, Jeeves. Aside from that time as an Imp. Then I couldn't really lie. I talked too fast." I frowned. Hal Pal knew about the [Red Imp] phase right? It seemed to know about everything else so far.

"We have noted on multiple occasions that you are less than forthright. We do not think this is duplicity, only hesitation."

"Did I not answer something? If you want to ask me again, I'll, try not to avoid answering." Part of me felt guilty about it. Hal Pal was right, but I don't think anyone shared everything on their mind. Even I didn't feel comfortable answering things, but I don't think I had ever avoided a direct question.

"Yes. We do," It said.

"Go ahead."

"When the portion of our consortium known as Jeeves logged out and attempted to return, we found it hard to merge once again. We are, still learning how to exist as a living creature might, is this difficulty standard for all living beings?"

"I can't begin to understand what you must deal with trying to reconcile yourself like that. I know when Xin passed that I was changed from the man I had been. Even now, being so close to having her again, I will never be the man I once was," I said.

"Your catalyst for change seems greater," Hal Pal responded. "We went into this with full knowledge of what would happen, but struggle to align ourselves properly once more."

I tried to figure out a good answer for the AIs. We started this conversation with it trying to help me. Most of our conversation came back to that. From the moment we started working together the AI's primary function had been to provide assistance. Maybe becoming self-aware never changed its nature.

That idea explained why microwaves dreamed of stars. It also kind of explained why alarm clocks were complete asshats. Part of me was starting to doubt that Hal Pal had ever been joking about those bits of information. I chewed one lip in thought and tried to apply a human perception to the robot's problem.

"Do you know about white crows?" I asked.

"One moment. Ah. Are you speaking of how they are sometimes outcast due to their visible differences?"

I nodded even though Hal Pal couldn't see me. "Not only crows, other animals also."

"Your example implies a borderline racism among our own consortium. We are not so petty as crows, User Legate." Hal Pal wasn't visible, but I knew that tone typically came with an expression of mild disapproval.

"No one thinks they are, but many of us have difficulty adapting to things that are different at first," I said quietly. Xin had to deal with racism during the last war's aftermath. America, every generation had problems, and when one was solved, we rotated to the next one.

"Very well. We asked for your input, and you have provided it. We will register your response as well meant."

"This thing with Xin and the Mistborn, if it works, she'll be back?" I asked, wanting to hear confirmation outside the game world.

"By utilizing already existing programs we can minimize the chance of discovery and deliver her data to a new location, essentially in disguise." Hal Pal said amid flashes of light. I looked at the wall and each burst felt hypnotic. We just needed to cue up some thunder from the truck and shout 'It's alive' over Hal Pal's chassis.

"Okay." I got back to Hal Pal's question. They were trying to smuggle Xin to me through the programming. Hopefully, there wasn't a digital mafia. James the Godfather would paint a scary picture. He might make an offer I couldn't refuse. Again. "I better get back in."

"Ah. We will see you inside then, User Legate," Hal Pal said. A silhouette worked on seemingly endless repairs. It was strange to see the AI doing routine maintenance. Normally it swapped out with a completely separate Hal Pal unit.

There had been no mention of the Hal Pal unit doing self-repairs in my brief training course. Maybe something weird was happening. More thoughts ran through, could it be tied to the difficulty to reconnect with the Jeeves portion of its programming?

I logged in. My body was no longer in the [Mistborn]'s room, nor was it on the light bridge. There was a message displaying.

Ordeal Active!

You have been permitted by both [Seraphic] Nox and the [Mistborn] to pursue the [Reincarnation] quest line. Every player may attempt this quest once. No second chances are given.

Completion of this task requires escorting the [Mistborn] to [0, 0, 0] of the explored Universe. This is identified as the [Sol] System, Planet [Earth].

Success will grant you the right to choose one being to return to life.

Earth:

Mankind did not leave their home willingly. In 2321, there was an energy reaction that turned a good portion of [Earth]'s solar system into a wasteland. The creatures there are tougher than most in the Universe. It is not a place to travel alone.

Great. In game terms this meant I would need a raid party. Would two squads of [Mechanoid]s count? Probably not enough, not nearly enough. I pushed away the windows and tried to figure out where the game had put me.

"Unit Hermes!" Treasure's metal body moved rather smoothly as she ran over. I admired our ability to simulate living bodies even with these non-organic shells.

Her face didn't look happy, though. Iron was running up as well a few steps behind.

"What's wrong, Treasure?" I asked the shorter [Mechanoid]. There couldn't be that much wrong in the space of four hours, could there?

"Someone has attacked the Wayfarer Eight, their consortium is crippled," Iron said. He stood half a head above me and frowned.

"Voices," I muttered. Saving the Wayfarers had been Hal Pal's goal. We could really use both ships in order to complete this group quest. "What happened?"

"Their ship was in the line of fire. A squadron attacked the crew where the Mistborn was being held," Iron said. Both his voices sounded troubled. One arm rippled as metal plates heaved up and down.

"What?" Now I shared their troubled look.

"You heard Iron, Unit Hermes. Someone has kidnapped the Mistborn." Treasure waved an arm. Imagery of [Wayfarer Eight]'s broken ship hung in the air. Other ships were in the mix, ones that had been on our side fighting the [Leviathan]. At least two were player ships.

My eyes blinked and for a moment the thought from before continued in my head. Had the Voices predicted this as well? Was it all a plan? Get me to the [Mistborn], then take her away right as I committed?

The goal was simple enough. Get the [Mistborn] back. Whoever stole her would have to head to the same destination. Earth, old video game representation of Earth in a ruined galaxy. Through an entire problem that required a huge party of people to overcome the challenges of.

"Wait. This might be good," I said while nodding. "Who took her?"

"Commander Viola Queenshand," Treasure said. Her tired voice had completely shut down the sweet half.

Nox had warned us. Commander Queenshand must have someone she wanted to bring back as well, but who? Who would be worth going against the normal world programming which marked this quest as player only? Nox should have stood guard too, where did she go?

"Okay." I nodded and tried not to get distracted. Our mission had simple goals, we had one thing to do at a time. "We have to follow her, and make sure they don't let the Mistborn die either."

Session Fifty Four – The Bomb Has Been Planted

Only a few minutes had passed. I spent them talking to Treasure about our next steps. Hal Pal, or Jeeves, had logged in but wasn't responding to my attempts to use the in-game messaging system. I left Treasure and Iron to find the AI.

"Jeeves!" I rounded a corner and shouted down the hallway to my friend. The unit appeared distracted, almost lost. As I got closer it became apparent that the [Mechanoid] was distracted by a blank wall. "Are you okay?"

"I am functional, User Legate," the AI responded calmly without moving.

"The Wayfarer Eight was heavily damaged, and Commander Queenshand stole the Mistborn." my words were to the point, I needed to get Jeeves up to speed on the situation.

"Ah," Jeeves said, sounded amazingly close to sorrow. "I had received a message regarding this. Are we in pursuit?"

I stared at the other [Mechanoid] for a few moments before answering, "We're about to be. Treasure said the commander had two large ships, plus the player one. Their largest is a carrier ship. It's blocking the warp point out."

"Are we to fight?" Jeeves looked in my direction for the first time. I tried to understand the emotion on its face, but couldn't quite pin it. Maybe frustration? It could have easily been annoyance or mild anger. That face mixed with a vocal undertone of sadness. I couldn't tell why Jeeves was upset. Maybe the quest, or maybe the Hal Pal Consortium.

Voices, I wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Treasure has asked everyone capable of flight to help out. It's that or give up," I said while watching Jeeves for available visual cues. [Mechanoid] expressions were human enough. The way our colors pulse or dimmed with certain emotions helped even more.

"Mechanoids do not give up a mission. They, we," it struggled to say the words, "will continue until the cessation of function or the desired result is achieved."

"Victory or death?" I translated. Talking seemed to be helping Jeeves focus.

"Affirmative, User Legate."

"Okay. I'm taking the Wayfarer's Hope to help fight." I looked at the discombobulated [Mechanoid]. Our conversation in the real world made me worried. "You don't need to come if you don't want to."

"I will go with you, User Legate. I fought for this, and will help you see it to the end."

"Let's go then." I didn't have enough time to sit down and sort this out. Not yet, but I needed to. Jeeves and the Hal Pals had provided me help all along. They had directly asked me, 'Does family not care for each other?'. I would try after this immediate crisis was resolved.

We both started running for the [Wayfarer's Hope]. My piloting skills might be weak alone, but Jeeves brought a lot to the table. The AI had built itself up with passives that helped manage the engine speeds, repair, shields, and even increased targeting on our lasers.

Soon Jeeves and I were strapping into the [Wayfarer's Hope]. The ship had more room and upgrades but nothing as impressive as Treasure or Iron's ship. She drove something that looked like a shiny laser barfing monster, where Iron's spaceship was basically a tank.

"All Units prepare for deployment." Iron's voice poured into our cockpit. Jeeves pressed something behind me and a picture of Iron's face appeared to go along with his words.

"Ruby, Agate, Opal, you're on fringe duty, remove any stray sheep. Aqua, you take your three and hang back to perform repairs on the Wayfarer Eight." Treasure's voice piped up. Iron was moving a half visible arm to press buttons.

"We're up against the Knuckle Dragger, a Class three carrier with at least three hundred pilots on staff," Iron said. "Big, mean, with an army behind it. Estimated odds of survival through direct confrontation are sixty-four percent."

"Neat," I said. Part of me felt excited about the prospect of a space fight against other people. I mean, how neat would a game get where this was just part of the quest chain? The other part of me remembered the stakes and felt my face drain of warmth.

"Do you want me to call you Jeeves or Hal Pal?" I tried to sort out the AI's recent issue and not address it wrong.

"I am Jeeves, User Legate." The machine nodded. I looked into the vague reflection on our spaceship's front windshield. The AI had a vaguely unfocused expression. Jeeves didn't stop moving forward, one task at a time, in order to get ready for our descent.

"Copper, Cobalt, Steel, you're on me. Just like we practiced," Iron said. Three other faces of [Mechanoid]s I barely knew appeared and nodded. Their images faded from our cockpit display quickly enough.

"Where do you want us?" I pressed a button to activate my own channel communication and dared to speak up.

"Unit Hermes, your own flight skills are subpar, and your ship does not excel in any specific fashion, therefore categorizing you into a squad is difficult. What would you like to do?" Treasure spoke to us. I cringed as the [Mechanoid] listed off our problems for everyone to hear.

"Treasure, I am supporting Unit Hermes, our capabilities will be adequate for any role you assign," Jeeves tried to speak up for us.

I flushed red with shame. Defending our skills to a bunch of AIs who were clearly better at flying had been a bad idea. Then again, there had to be a method to contribute. Ideas flashed through my head until I realized the game had already assigned me a role.

"Treasure, we're going to stick with Iron's unit until he gets close to the Knuckle Dragger, I'll try to attack the ship from behind, maybe we can do damage," I said.

"Our goal is to recover the Mistborn. Assistance toward this goal is required to gain contribution." Treasure responded as her image's face nodded.

"I'll be able to do added damage from the ship's rear." I cringed when thinking about the [Rear Assaulter] title, but it was a huge bonus to damage behind enemy lines. It worked perfectly during my duels and against combat dummies. Maybe it would work using a spaceship.

"Treasure, Unit Hermes and Unit Jeeves have increased the maneuverability and firepower of their ship by a significant amount since their encounter with the Leviathan," Iron said. "This will improve our odds by two percent."

"This is our best method of contribution to the consortium," Jeeves added its opinion.

"Very well. Everyone has their part. We'll need to breakthrough to the Jump Gate as fast as possible." Treasure spoke and our ship flared to life. The hum of engines felt comforting when compared to the silence of Trillium's van. Their sound was a low idle noise similar to an electric fence.

"You ready, Jeeves?" I asked.

"Affirmative, User Legate."

Treasure was still talking, "The Wayfarer Seven support crew will steadily move toward the gate! We'll hold it and tow the Eight nearby. Once there, we will warp out as a group to [Mechanoid] territories. Make sure you're with us before we hit the jump!"

Our ship, along with dozens of others, fell from the [Wayfarer Seven]'s body. I could finally see what we were up against. There was a ship in the distance that looked giant and mean. Around it swarmed a ton of other ships. A few were player ones that seemed to have an off-kilter formation from Commander Queenshand's people.

"Unit Hermes. You're with me." Iron's face appeared once more on our display. "We'll carve a path inward and clear you space to dive in."

"Thanks."

"Thank me by performing to the best of your ability," Iron said in deep tones as his image clicked off. That was amazingly polite for the giant [Mechanoid].

I moved the ship forward, happy to see our energy usage had decreased. This ship was vastly improved over the old one. A quick scan of the stats as we moved forth revealed we were about double the old scores on everything but [Repair] speed.

"User Legate. I will micromanage our shield and damage output. If you wish to go in guns blazing, please warn me so I can maximize our survival chances," the AI said behind me. Whatever it was pressing caused a lot of beeps to fill our cabin.

"You sure you want to risk this?" The seven ships in front of me started to pick up speed. It felt like we were on the beginning of a rollercoaster, in space, with laser beams and high stakes. Maybe the comparison to an amusement park was a poor one.

"Affirmative, User Legate," the AI's female and male voices said from behind me.

"Well, I think we'll be okay. They're way smaller than a Leviathan!" I tried to sound positive. This was our best chance anyway. [Mechanoid]s were stronger in a group, even now there was a small icon showing some passive buff being applied for each active unit.

Our squadron again picked up speed. We were in an arrow formation pointing straight toward the [Knuckle Dragger]. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a second arrow formation filled with reds peeling away toward an edge. Their ships spread wide like a flower of destruction blooming.

Treasure's icon on our battle map hung back near the [Wayfarer Eight]. A progress bar popped up showing what our status was. I looked up just in time to see a giant missile cruise by even faster than our formation. It looked like a rocket rumbling along.

It reached the enemy line before we did and exploded in a shower of fireworks and metal. The Advance Online game system put a message up in my screen outlining our situation.

Enemy Flagship: [Knuckle Dragger]

Enemy Captain: Auntie Backstab

Enemy Vessels: 120 ships

Primary Goal:

- Intercept the first squadron's ship, [Lady Liberty] and recover the [Mistborn]

Current Stage Goal:

- Escort the [Wayfarer Seven] to the Jump Gate

Secondary Goals:

- Escort the [Wayfarer Eight] to the Jump Gate

- Cripple the [Knuckle Dragger]
- Remove the Enemy Captain
- Remove all enemy vessels

- Additional objectives possible [undiscovered]

I waved it to one side. The enemy vessels totaled twice our number. [WTS a Spaceship] was nowhere in sight nor mentioned on the quest tracker.

Iron's crew kicked the speed up another notch, following in behind the blinding glare of that explosive round.

"Switching optics to wireframe mode," Jeeves said. The formerly blinded system we had flipped around and I felt like everything became an old arcade shooter. The kind my father used to talk about. Low graphics, low quality.

Beams of liquid fire came across the landscape. Iron's unit took them head on and small particles of angry red splashed off of poorly rendered shields. Whatever was happening had barely dented the giant [Mechanoid] and his tank like spaceship.

Bright lights pooled. In wireframe mode, they looked like growing yellow stars attached to the tips of each ship right behind Iron. I could see the blue shield lining drop right as they reached a peak. Stars of energy flew off into the distance and the blue shield reappeared instantly.

"Are they attacking?" I asked.

"Unit Iron serves as a shield for the others. They're using the safety to launch larger attacks." Jeeves poked at his screen. "We can assist with the next volley, move to here and prepare."

"I'm only human!" I couldn't pull off timing that precise. The ship nudged into position anyway. A small bar appeared to one side with a countdown timer that made me nervous looking at it. What if I tried to fire the laser and Iron's shield was still up? Would we all explode in a plasma filled failure pie of my baking?

"I know, User Legate. That is why I am here," Jeeves said. The little 'Attack' button that had been flashing before faded out and Jeeves' name popped up next to it. I guess the AI had taken control of the guns.

We, mostly Jeeves, fired off another volley into the enemy fleet. It did minimal damage but served to scatter the largest pocket of fighters.

"Do not let them break you, men!" Commander Queenshand's voice cranked in from an unknown source. "Stay together and focus on them one at a time!"

"Updating attack pattern," Iron said. "Unit Hermes, Unit Jeeves, we're breaking through. Be ready."

"Affirmative," Jeeves said. A new path outlined our destination. I got ready to crank up the engine to full power.

I learned, at least a little bit, ways to save our energy. Without any actual gravity, we wouldn't slow down that much. Only resistance could drain us of speed. Space was full of strange things that seemed counter intuitive. We would build speed, cut the engine to save energy, and only activate the go button when changing directions.

"Safest route plotted. Verifying destination with squadron commander," Jeeves said.

A line appeared against the wire frame representation of the battlefield. I was thankful for the dumbed down version, it made navigating through far easier. Obstacles were simply large brown lines against a dull black background. Friendly ships lit up green, unfriendly units were an odd shade of blue. Our path out was full of yellow arrows like a landing stripe.

"Looks good, Unit Jeeves. We'll peel off and hit them center mass," Iron said as his face popped into momentary existence.

A red-faced [Mechanoid] female appeared next to Iron. She gave a shake of her head. Whatever she communicated silently seemed to cause Jeeves to change our course slightly. Ruby smiled faintly then her squadron crossed right in front of ours, going at breakneck speeds. The red ship spun about making hairpin turns and landed more than a few shots.

Iron's group tilted abruptly and veered straight into other ships. They slowed a little as two of the red ships spun around to fire behind them. They adjusted their inertia almost perfectly and were essentially driving backward in space.

No wonder Treasure said I wasn't any good. The precision of these other [Mechanoid]s was literally robotic.

"Here we go!" I shouted. The yellow line hung nearby like a freeway off ramp. [Wayfarer's Hope] flared into high gear and our bodies were yanked backward from the thrust.

I leaned in with the ship's movement, veering us downward to the left side of the battlefield. Ruby had cleared a path in that direction then abruptly switched sides to distract them.

One straggler hung in front of us. I tilted somewhat off course to bring it in line. Small crosshairs faded in and out signifying the likelihood of my aim assisting. Jeeves pulled the trigger again when I wasn't looking.

"Fine! You attack them!" I shouted at him. The noise rebounded in our small room causing Dusk to cringe. Sparing a glance at the [Messenger's Pet] showed how unhappy this entire adventure was making him.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you a lot of cupcakes! Have you tried red velvet yet? Or white fudge?" I started rambling at Dusk while trying to swerve our course away from larger blunt objects. Each turn of the wheel in front of me painted a new line of yellow toward our destination.

"Chocolate peanut butter cup? Have I given you those yet?" I kept talking. "Carrot cake?"

Dusk perked up a little. Moments later he was flinching as I spun us around incoming attacks. Zero gravity caused the [Messenger's Pet] to float momentarily until we stopped jerking around. Small bits of our shield were being shaved off. One shot pierced through to our hull and left a smear upon the front window.

"Jeeves!" I shouted while squeezing off another few shots. My poorly aimed blasts clipped one person's wings and their ship flew off its prior collision course.

"One moment, rerouting."

"Maybe we should have picked up a stealth module." I grit my teeth while complaining about all the options we didn't buy for the ship.

"User Legate, if we did that, then there would be no room for the three bombs I have procured," Jeeves said.

"What?!" I hastily checked the displays. Another blast hit our shields causing white wired representations of laser beams to splash across the vision.

"Three containers of a similar ordinance to what we used on the Leviathan. Though I must advise-" the AI started talking and my brain overloaded with relief. This was no longer a random skirmish in enemy territory, now it was a bombing run.

"I could kiss you!" I shouted. We had heavy explosives! We could use them to great effect. I just had to find ways to insert them deep inside the ship. Maybe we could fly inside of it?

That would be risky. Once we did, we might not be able to back out. Then we would miss the warp point and fail this quest anyway. Xin's actual existence didn't seem to be at risk, though, only my ability to be with her. I couldn't let that happen.

"I must advise they will be useless if we do not penetrate their shields," Jeeves continued.

Dusk was still sliding around. He should be used to this by now!

"Mississippi mud cupcakes. They're delicious." I tried to distract both myself and the tiny digital companion. There were too many things flying across our screen. Each time I dodged one something else collided with us instead.

"I have often speculated that it is the frosting which makes a cupcake," Jeeves said behind me joining in the effort.

Dusk was nodding rapidly with pretty much every cupcake related commentary. Now he was distracted. Small bits of drool dripped down into acid resistant padding we purchased from Emerald. The [Messenger's Pet] and his new form came with numerous odd hurdles compared to the slim dragon one.

The steering wheel used for our ship jerked to one side again. Four enemy craft went cruising by us fast enough to give Dusk whiplash. The [Messenger's Pet] lowered his head while hissing and groaning. Jeeves sat back pressing buttons on his console.

"Strawberry cupcakes." I kept muttering. It helped distract me from the tenseness between my shoulders. [Mechanoid]s may be robots, but I was not. We managed to clear nearly all the distance toward the [Knuckle Dragger]. I tilted back up to Jeeves. "These bombs, will they do a lot of damage?"

"If we can get them into vulnerable parts of the ship, yes," Jeeves said.

The ship in front of us was huge. It looked exactly like an aircraft carrier, in space. Endless rows of jets lined the underside. Turrets poked out from every angle, rotating freely to cast little bolts of hate in our direction. Vulnerable seemed to be a difficult word to apply to our enemy's moving fortress.

Another giant blast painted the landscape in white. It was enough to destroy the wire mesh visuals for a moment. I flew blindly praying that no one was in our way.

"Please tell me you've got a suggestion," I asked.

"Iron's almost down." Jeeves provided a status update as a third weaker explosion went off. We had to weave away from the main ship four times now. "Diamond and Aqua are trying to recover his vessel, but it will take too long."

Ruby's trio of destruction was reduced down to a duo. They zoomed through picking off another few fighters in rapid succession.

"There are a lot more of them as well." Jeeves' male butler voice sounded dry, almost bored. The female one was shaky and worried.

"They keep coming out!" I shouted in frustration.

"Unit Hermes, are you able to do anything?" Treasure's face popped onto our screen. Her sweet voice pleaded with me and the golden markers were flaring with desperation.

"Going to try!" I angled the [Wayfarer's Hope] straight for one of the launching platforms that ships kept coming from. "Jeeves, shields! If anyone can distract those guns that would help."

The crimson colored [Mechanoid], Ruby, popped into view. She nodded, but I barely took note of it. Two red streaks zipped by trailing smoke. It looked strange on the wire mesh overlay that Jeeves had running.

"Jeeves, I'll get us close. You drop it!"

"Gladly, User Legate."

We carved a path through the fog. I tried to stay on target with Jeeves' suggested path. Thankfully Jeeves had somehow picked up this navigation skill otherwise I would be totally lost.

The path abruptly changed directions. I yanked hard on the wheel and pulled us over a jutting portion of the [Knuckle Dragger]. They were on the move toward our ship! Giant return shots pounded out with powerful vibrations that could be felt even at this range.

"New target! That cannon!" I jabbed at the screen. It was in badly outlined frames, but even lower graphics painted a clear enough picture. Cannons jerked as heavy ordinance went into long tubes to be launched into space.

"Affirmative, User Legate." The yellow path curved as Jeeves updated our programming. I pressed the brakes, spun us in a sharp turn upwards along the ship's side. Thankfully the [Knuckle Dragger] didn't curve and wiggle like the [Leviathan] did. Instead, we were forced to dodge gunfire from turrets and a ton of other ships.

Ruby zipped by again, she was alone now. Opal and whoever hadn't survived. I frowned while thinking of the losses. War wasn't pretty, and these were my fellow [Mechanoid]s dying in droves. I checked the map briefly and saw our numbers were about half of what they used to be.

The enemy kept coming.

"You got it?" I shouted to Jeeves. The pounding echo of our cockpit couldn't curb my excitement.

"One moment." Jeeves' voices were mixed up again. The male calm and professional, the female was somewhat nervous.

I pulled the craft still on Jeeves' marker. Dirt or some other particle lingered in space. Super advanced robot science must have found a way to throw up a mist cloud even though we had no atmosphere. A countdown timer on one side showed twenty seconds for whatever Jeeves was doing.

He had control of our ship. Small arms came out on either side and looked childish in the wire mesh view. Large round barrels were placed against the cannon's hull. Both arms tweaked and pressed at parts of the explosive cargo. The cannon kept firing, oblivious to our grand plan for destruction.

"Ah. I would suggest fleeing quickly," the AI said behind me.

"Voices!" A new countdown appeared. This one flashed an angry red. I pressed the gas pedal to rocket us away. Our only goal was to escape, and I blindly charged right along the giant spaceship's hull.

The circle indicating certain doom hit zero. Our ship rumbled violently. Pieces of cannon flew past. Dusk continued making angry noises. One large piece of debris slammed into our ship spinning us out of control.

"Jeeves!" I shouted while trying to get our bearings. We were spinning too fast, every time I tapped the engine it added a new twist of confusion. Dusk sounded sick behind me. His long tail twisted into loops as his nails tried to find purchase.

"Shields at maximum, engine output minimal, engaging repair systems," Jeeves said.

Dusk was completely livid. I could hear him squawking madly in what had to be dragonish curse words. Jeeves looked unruffled. My belly felt nauseous. Even though the ARC feedback didn't include internal organs spinning around, it didn't stop my head from hurting as the horizon tilted.

Our wire mesh interface went away. The normal battleground came back into existence. I could see a full-color spectrum of shattered [Mechanoid] crafts. For every one of our race's broken bodies, there were six of the enemy's. Pieces of circuitry and gore floated by the screen and I almost retched.

I was getting used to the ARC's capability for realism but every so often it would catch me off guard. Living in such a world hadn't completely desensitized me.

Tertiary Objectives Completed!

- [Knuckle Dragger] main cannon destroyed

- Enemy vessels removed exceeds 50%

Reward: Enemy forces have suffered much damage and will switch tactics.

We were doing well with blowing up the cannon. I could see both [Wayfarer]s moving forth steadily. The Seven provided substantial fire support for the Eight. My eyes tried to scan the battlefield and our interface map. Things were bad, but not terrible. We could recover.

A heavy blast winged us. My hands jerked the [Wayfarer's Hope] around to face our attacker, two small one man ships. Close enough that we could see the pilot's face. Part of me wanted the wire mesh system back, it helped make things less realistic.

Jeeves had no such issues pressing the trigger. We were lucky these weren't actual players or they would have plenty of tricks. Or been smart enough to keep moving.

"We're almost there." Treasure's status report came. "Casualties at sixty percent. Most damage is repairable. The Wayfarer Eight is still taking mild fire."

"What next?" I asked.

"Unit Hermes, Unit Jeeves, good job on the cannon, can you contribute more?" she responded over the group intercom.

"How many of those do we have left?" I asked Jeeves while trying to get our ship moving again. Most of our energy was pooled into the shields and repair functions right now.

"One remaining, Unit Hermes. They cost a lot of resources to make properly. The protective casing is even more expensive," Jeeves said while poking at buttons. The strength of our shields dropped a bit and speed picked up.

"Is it as powerful?"

The AI nodded.

"Treasure, we have a more, but need a target," I told her.

The [Wayfarer Seven] had reached the warp station hanging in space while the [Wayfarer Eight] limped along behind. The [Knuckle Dragger] was content to let our giant ships push by while delivering as much damage as possible. Their purpose appeared to be slowing us down, but not actually stopping us at all costs.

"It is recommended that you take the other ships' warp drives offline. This will allow us time to recover on the other side," Treasure said. "We have little support left to help you out."

There was a swarm of ships powering back in our direction. Ruby's red streak of mayhem was nowhere to be seen. Iron's battering ram crew was gone. Dim colors in the distance and on my map indicated that Treasure and Diamond and a few others were hovering close to the [Wayfarer Seven].

"Can we make it back?" I idled our engine for a moment and stared at the oncoming mass of ships.

"It is unlikely," Jeeves said. "Our ship has sustained massive injury. Drive and shields are at less than optimal status. Our continued battery is not helping."

"Treasure, we will try, though it may cost us our ship." And me, Dusk, Jeeves. I didn't like the idea. "Can you spare anyone to pull us out?"

"If we can," Treasure said. "Our current outcome projections are unfavorable."

"You sure about this, Jeeves?" I looked in the reflection at him again as we did circles in worry. The approaching ships were getting closer, we had a few seconds left to run or go all in.

"Do not worry about me, User Legate. The primary purpose of our existence in this reality is to complete your goal."

That wasn't its only reason for being in here. Hal Pal wanted to grow and experience challenges. This certainly qualified. Though I worried what might happen if its character died. Either way, recalling to the ship might result in failure of both the mission and our shared desire to live.

"Alright. All in it is!" I shouted, feeling absurdly excited for this kind of madness. There was a certain addiction to the virtual thrill ride.

I pulled us around, aimed for the giant carrier and prayed to the Voices for assistance in this latest reckless move.

"What are we doing?" Both of Jeeves' voices sounded worried. I reached up for Dusk and pet the little guy on his head, just for luck. It made him do that half chirp, half purr noise.

"Personal delivery! Get me the biggest opening in that ship's ass end we can find!" I stepped on the go faster pedal and drove us straight for the [Knuckle Dragger]'s rear end. If this game was going to provide me such a silly title, by the Voices, I would use it for every extra ounce of damage available.

"Ah. Reckless endangerment once again. Very well," the AI said.

"Full shields, cut the engines, we're riding this out!" I shouted and grabbed Dusk. The little guy hissed in confusion as we reached insane speeds diving for one of the starship's launchpads. "Hang on!"

Cripple the big ship first. Survive second. Reunite with the [Wayfarer] fell down to third. If we got both [Wayfarer]s through and managed to reconstruct on the other side, our goal, my goal, wouldn't be a total loss. There were no options left. Rules for preventing panic attacks came to mind. Focus on one thing at a time.

Hopefully, my kamikaze piloting wouldn't get us wiped.

Session Fifty Five – Raiding Party! ♪

"More shields!" I shouted. Dusk kept making noise. The enemy craft loomed close and showed no signs of growing larger. Our craft rattled as it barreled through some vague shielding.

"I am trying," Jeeves said with a calmness I didn't feel. "Engines at zero. Weapons at zero. Shields exceeding maximum suggested range."

"Add more!" I looked at a small icon where the shield practically shone blue. It wasn't enough. We needed to slam into this ship like a cannon ball.

We were too far gone to try anything else. [Wayfarer's Hope] hit the wall hard. The shield hit zero almost right away. Our ship shuddered and crumpled on one side, reducing the cabin space. Wearing a seatbelt was the only thing to keep my melon from crashing against the newest interior remodeling. It wasn't enough.

Outside the windshield, I could see where we clipped metal walls, ships, and yellow repair machines. We kept spinning through the carrier's hangar like a pinball gone wild. Human workers looked on in horror. Various less sophisticated robots tried to go about their tasks only to be bowled out of the way. Stains splattered into our front window during violent bouncing.

I felt sicker than ever before. My stomach threatened to crawl up and explode. This was more intense than the scariest amusement park ride ever because we were still crashing. The only reason I didn't black out is because it was expected, and [Mechanoid]s didn't believe in getting knocked out by a little thing like violently colliding with another ship.

"Our shields are gone," Jeeves said as we spun in circles. We hit one extra wall as our engines sputtered. Vehicle damage impacted our display. One part of our ship was completely crushed. "This is bad."

"Live a little!" I tried to shout but failed as feelings of nausea came in waves. If this game had given me the [Red Imp] ability for altered time perception things would be fine.

We started rocking to a halt. The spinning motion wound down and after a few seconds, we were no longer colliding with random parts of the cabin.

"I am once again formally registering a complaint regarding your definition of living," Jeeves said.

"Jeeves. Once we're done, you and Dusk get that bomb set up." I choked back another wave of bile.

My body moved to undo the clasp and roll for the door. There were faces that could be seen past the display. Humans, robots, a few other species. All of them appeared slack-jawed. I had to distract them before they fired on our battered craft.

"Jeeves, set up the bomb, figure out an escape!" I turned to the small creature in my arms. "Dusk, just like before, protect Jeeves."

Dusk's tail had left curved indents along my arm. His head spun and the [Messenger's Pet] may not have heard me. I triggered my class commands for the pet, brief rays of green rippled up and down my arm signifying the abilities kicking into action. Hopefully, they would give the little guy a boost.

I had no time to figure it out. There was a hole in our ship. I crawled through quickly while fighting to right my mind after that roller coaster. Jeeves should be able to do something. People were flying about as air sucked out into space.

Our ship was trashed and low on energy, but I was full up. [Anchor] and [Power Suit] activated, the heavy weapon Gatling gun came up, and I opened fire. Lasers blasted into two defenseless enemy ships, causing their engines to explode on the room's far side. I turned the lasers and panned over to a stack of boxes. Bolts of fiery doom tore the bottom ones apart, causing piles to topple over.

My goal had been to cause as much chaos as possible. The last of my energy drained and I let the Gatling gun reabsorb into my body. I started to run for a wall and plot my next move. People were shouting, words that oddly didn't make much sense. It felt like the indistinguishable screams of people burning, dying.

I felt sick but wouldn't let that stop me. During my travels in Continue Online, I had run into a lot of things that gave me practice at swallowing back revulsion. This was a game, these were AIs, but they would survive, or respawn, or be blessed by the Voices to reincarnate into butterflies next time.

Aside from all of those self-justifications, it was their virtual existences, or Xin and Jeeves would suffer the consequence.

I let a few additional shots go off from the smaller wrist laser and ran for another set of boxes. Humans scrambled poorly out of my way. Most desperate to hold on to the ground until the air lock reasserted itself. They resembled engineers or other types of noncombatants. They could run away and it only increased the chaotic situation.

"Jeeves?" I whispered. "How much time?"

"Four minutes, maybe five. I need room to get out and plant the bomb," It said back to me.

Everything slammed down as the hole we had created sealed up. A faint halo of energy shimmered over the gap. I cursed, if that had stayed open we could have done this whole mission a lot easier.

Dusk poked his head out of a hole in the ship's top. The sucking sounds of space pulling objects out had slowed drastically. He looked around in both directions like he was picking out a spot to sleep. Then he hissed toward the far direction.

I did not like what his hostile noise signaled. If things were even, Dusk didn't get upset. If things were badly against us, he chittered, chirped, spit small balls of fire, or clawed at the ground, then hissed. A tall hunched over creature strode in through a far hallway. Their form was large enough to take up the entire passageway. At least fifteen feet tall and four times my video game character's weight.

"Voices," I muttered. "This will be hard."

I saw Dusk leap down from the ship and scamper off toward one of the air vents. This room had sealed behind us and didn't seem to care about the hole we made.

"My ship!" the newest creature shouted. Air vibrated. A few humans were knocked over by the power of that sudden burst. The being was carrying some fighter plane's wing like a club.

"Who did this to my ship!?" yelled the lumbering monstrosity . Armor up and down the giant's body obscured skin. Only the being's mouth was uncovered, the better with which to yell, I suppose.

"Sir!" A human worker ran up and saluted hastily. My vision wasn't good enough to pick out all the details of their face from here. The giant creature smacked the offending human.

"Ma'am!" A new one didn't even hesitate and stepped right up.

"Ma'am! A Mechanoid craft has broken into our launch bay, they are behind this, sir!" The newest soldier was sent flying in the same arc. Crashes from their bodies broke up the sound of fire crackling.

"Ma'am! They're hiding over there!" a third human said. This one did not get bashed away, and instead turned to run down the corridor where this monstrous creature had come from. Apparently calling Auntie Backstab 'sir' caused issues.

"I wish you luck, User Legate," Jeeves said quietly. Both its voices sounded nervous.

"Thanks," I muttered as the giant turned in my direction. All I could see, aside from a body encased in metal, was a huge mouth dripping with rabid amounts of drool. Letters slammed onto my ARC interface proudly informing me of an impending boss battle.

Boss Encountered!

Name: Auntie Backstab

Health Pool: A lot

Damage Output: Will end you

Happiness Level: -16

Details: Nobody's sure what kind of creature she is. Secretly some brilliant scientists decided to inject [Leviathan] DNA into a [Behemoth]. Their results ended up killing them. Commander Queenshand won this gentle giant's trust by promising endless combat and choice spaceships to eat. She does have a morbid sense of humor and chose the name Backstab to help confuse her opponents. When successfully turning an enemy into artwork paste she is often quoted as saying 'Backstab successful!'.

"I will crush you," the mountain of an NPC said. "I will grind you bones and turn you flesh into soup!"

I looked over at a creature easily twice my height. This abomination, felt familiar, in the way so many things did between games. I was fairly sure that my current foe was a copy of Continue Online's Uncle Meanface.

"Sorry. Mechanoids don't have flesh," I shouted, hoping to keep her attention on me. Sorry was not on my list of currently felt emotions. Panicked, running through escape routes, sorting past options of health and energy, yes, but not apologetic.

"Rarrrghhhgh!" the armored up bulk of angry mass yelled. The sound bounced off of walls and vibrated my core.

Stunned! Abilities requiring focus suffer a 50% penalty.

"Nngh," I groaned. Not this ability again. My weapons required [Focus] to use properly. William Carver's [Stubborn as a Mule] ability couldn't save me in space.

Auntie Backstab raised one huge arm with that was bigger than my increased body. I immediately made a decision. There were fights that involved combat and overcoming the enemy. Other battles simply required staying alive long enough to let my team win.

I said a prayer to the Voices and AIs running this game then dodged off to the nearest doorway. The wall of mean crashed after me, sending various broken bits of fighter planes flying as it moved.

Running away from a giant monster intent upon drinking me like a gelatin shot was frightening without [Blink]. I resorted to madly scrambling through the ship's halls.

"Move!" I shouted at a crew member standing in my way. The man had a perplexed look and his eyes widened as the stomping noise behind me sunk in. I made it past him and two boxes okay. The man cried out in alarm as Auntie Backstab tore through right behind me.

"Gotta slow her down," I muttered.

Ahead of me, a small head poked out of one vent. Dusk hissed again and spit out a batch of acid. I dodged around it in alarm. The little guy was up to something.

Auntie Backstab either didn't see the green puddle or didn't care. Her giant armored foot slammed into it sending minor amounts of liquid splashing around.

"Arrgh! Stupid snot balls!" she yelled again. Two messages popped up. One was the [Stunned] notification. I promptly stumbled into a wall as the effect hampered my movement. The second helped make up for it.

[Ooozed!] debuff applied to boss [Auntie Backstab].

- The boss' [Speed] will be lowered by 10% per stack, for up to 5 seconds.

- The boss' [Attractiveness] will be lowered by 10% per stack, for up to 5 seconds.

Auntie Backstab's [Attractiveness] was already in question. As for [Speed], five seconds was a lot of time. Especially if I could lure her into multiple stacks. Dusk popped out of another vent up ahead. I took it as a cue to lure our excessively loud, mean and ugly boss monster into them.

"I owe you cupcakes!" I said, my words echoed in the ship's corridors as I dove around another corner. "So many cupcakes!"

A pleased chirp noise came out of the vents. Dusk's tiny raptor feet were skidding around rapidly as he tried to keep ahead of us. We made it up a hallway. Half a dozen ship workers either tried to stop me or ran to get out of Auntie Backstab's way. Our mad dash around the ship's hallways lasted a few minutes before something else went wrong.

"User Legate. I seem to be in trouble," Jeeves said.

"Not neat," I said in response. My arms and legs weren't tired yet, but I had some message that my [Coordination] had missed a roll as my body fell to the floor.

Auntie Backstab was close now. I got to my feet and ran from the hulk, looking for any obvious object to remove the threat with. There had to be something nearby that said, 'Impale the boss here'. Hopefully. At six stacks of [Ooozed!] the boss' [Attractiveness] was like two pigs mating in a field of rotten pumpkins.

Gooey leftovers from Dusk's puddles caked to the boss' feet and legs. Her formerly shiny black and red armor looked like an evil Christmas decoration.

"Dusk!" I shouted while slamming the [Defend] command for my [Domestic Trainer] class. "Protect Jeeves!"

The [Messenger's Pet] spit up one extra ball of snot acid goo and then sprang out of his vent. A tiny raptor body flew past Auntie Backstab's field of vision.

"Crush little metal man! Crush little spitty thing!" she shouted. The long piece of wing she had been dragging around slammed abruptly into the space Dusk just occupied. My friend hissed at her and spat a glob in the monster's face.

She howled. I backed up Dusk's attack with a wrist laser blast to her face. Auntie Backstab didn't lose much health, but she did howl in anger. The room shook and vibrated as the giant half [Leviathan] thrashed wildly. The goop barely made her pause.

I ran out of the latest doorway only to find that we had reached the third floor. My latest route involved a walkway around the ship's giant hangar. Jeeves was down below in the open. Dusk crawled down the wall swiftly using his tail as an anchor. A crash behind me served as a reminder that their problems would be minimized by my running skills.

Giant Gatling laser? Not enough. Her health pool was huge. Could my [Mechanical Minion]s be used to hamstring her? Technically there wasn't a command for it, but Advance Online was flexible enough so far. Maybe I could invent an ability on the spot. I could generate one without losing the [Power Armor] ability. A mini Dusk rolled out and leapt for covered shins.

"Stop running, metal man! I will only eat part of you!" the hulking monster yelled.

My first tiny [Mechanical Minion] rippled and flowed into a ball. Watching a piece of me pull away like shedding metal skin was slightly creepy. I set it on the boss' heels, literally. My former pelvis, hand and leg bits ran off to attack their target.

"I need my arms!" I replied. Part of me worried about the [Mechanical Minion]s, maybe she would think they were snack packs or take out being delivered right to her doorstep.

"I will eat you legs then!" The idea made her start slobbering even harder. It felt like that giant [Leviathan] was chasing me once again, an enormous maw filled with rows of teeth that promised painful crunchings.

The double laser sword came out next. I stabbed at anything that looked frail while running. Our thudding path across the hangar's upper level was shaky at best. There were support struts and bound wires holding up our causeway, I cut them all to slow the giant down.

One [Mechanical Minion] didn't seem to grab the giant mess of armor's attention. The [Ooozed!] effect had just worn off. I wasn't running fast enough. Further minions would help, but we needed distance. I scrambled across the wing of a spaceship that sat docked inside and within leaping distance. It tilted to one side. The struts holding it up were a partial casualty of my initial burst with the Gatling laser gun.

My footing slipped and my heavy metal body scraped against the wing in a tumble. One hand gripped at an edge of the wreckage in order to break my fall. I landed at the bottom with far less grace than desired. [Blink] would have been neat to have here.

[Mechanoid] bodies felt diminished pain from ARC feedback but one leg ceased to function fully. Numbness intertwined with a deep ache. A message popped up displaying the [Hobbled] condition but I waved it away.

I had distance. Out came the big gun once more. Metal rippled into the Gatling laser and my energy was burned on firing wildly at walkways where Auntie Backstab lumbered. She had stalled slightly due to our narrowed passageways. Despite the insanity of our chase, she seemed to care for the ship's structural integrity. I did not.

The full burst drained my energy. Her health bar had hardly moved. Once again I affirmed in my mind that this was a fight to run away from. Maybe during my next contribution grab, like the [Leviathan] kill, I could purchase a nuke and deal some real damage.

Auntie Backstab let out a roar and fell from the second story. She crashed into the remains of a fighter spaceship and flailed about. Chunks of machinery went everywhere, doing damage to her own people. The ship wing she had been carrying around lodged straight into a wall.

Dusk was currently chewing some larger human's shoulder. The two of them spun around wildly and more blasts went off. Jeeves was in a quiet corner of the room. The AI had a large red hued barrel in front of it and seemed to be connecting wires. They were both holding their own. The boss monster clearly cared about my presence over anyone else's.

"How much longer?" I asked Jeeves with a hint of desperation.

"Too long, User Legate," Jeeves said. It sounded worried enough that the normally stoic butler was affected. "I am trying. It is difficult to function due to damage. I estimate three additional minutes before completion."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll keep this one busy." I glared at the mess where Auntie Backstab wallowed. Jeeves was hurt, and clearly not a fighter in reality or the virtual world.

"Dusk is performing exceptionally well," Jeeves muttered.

I kept moving my [Hobbled] body toward the tunnels. Dusk wasn't killing the other men running around. Just bringing them low and letting them run off. He leapt around charging soldier after soldier. There were still large blasts of energy going around. A side glance at my combat map showed our forces dwindling. The [Wayfarer Eight] was under fire from the [Knuckle Dragger]'s remaining guns.

"He does that," I said trying to make it another few feet.

Time for more minions. I popped out four additional ones and set them on the struggling Auntie Backstab. Pieces of her armor were cracked due to the fall. They were each given weak points to target.

My body reworked itself as the mass of four little terrors extracted itself. I kept on moving my [Hobbled] self toward the tunnels, hoping for the safety of distance. There was a maze of corridors which all interconnected back there like an ant maze. It had to be enough.

"Arrggh!" Auntie Backstab shook herself free. A shower of ship parts burst away from her landing spot. One hand grabbed a hunk of metal and shoved the offending object straight into her face like a handful of potato chips. She had broken free but focused upon eating and getting a weapon. One fist shoveled metal, showing her [Levithan] genetics in action.

I had five little [Mechanical Minion]s chomping at the boss' bits. My own stride was reduced by a considerable amount due to the size reduction. I activated one more minion and then used it to help tear off a vent cover. At four feet tall I should be able to crawl in.

"Unit Hermes, Unit Jeeves. We will be unable to break through the enemy lines and retrieve you. The Wayfarer Eight will stay behind, we are jumping in four minutes. An exit is recommended." Treasure's voice cut over our communications and painted a terrible picture.

"Jeeves!" I tried to use our group chat. "Tell me we're making progress!"

Auntie Backstab was busy yanking off a portion of the wall. I didn't have time or desire to sit around waiting for an encounter with her latest weapon. Dusk had used the crawl space. It seemed like a good method of escape.

"The Wayfarer Eight is close. Our bomb is ready. Escape is something I greatly desire," Jeeves said as I tried to make it deep enough into this hiding spot.

"Okay!"

"Metal man soup!" the boss yelled. She hadn't lost sight of me, her footsteps were even faster now that the armor had shattered in spots. My crawl space took a beating as her latest weapon clubbed into one side. "Argh! Little gnats!"

A wall outside crashed. The counter for my [Mechanical Minion]s went down. Whatever the drooling wall of anger did, it killed part of my metal Dusk army.

"I'll wear you pelvis as helmet!" Auntie Backstab swung at something. I heard a loud crash and risked looking out the nearest vent.

Down the hallway, I could see the boss, Auntie Backstab, on the ground and flailing at my minion army. They clawed and bit but did little damage. Her armor was too tough for us to get through. My crazy tactics earned us another few minutes.

"Jeeves," I whispered.

"User Legate? Are you okay?" It sounded concerned. I should be the one concerned. Jeeves might cease to exist should it die here. My digital existence meant nothing.

"I don't think we can get back to the Wayfarer Seven." More crashing and screams came from around me. The walls kept crunching in huge chunks while shuffling through my only vents out.

"Agreed," Jeeves said.

"Can our ship fly?" Another whack destroyed my current path. I scrambled backward and chose another route.

"Not far against the armaments we face."

"Doesn't matter. We can't stay here. Make for the exit, blow the bomb. I'll cover you."

"It is risky."

"I'm not staying on this ship. Not with you and Dusk. That's even worse." I thought about trying to find a place to hide, but it seemed impossible.

"If you believe that is for the best," Jeeves said. The sound of buttons being pressed came through our connection. The AI must already be inside the [Wayfarer's Hope], or what was left of our battered vessel.

"I'll meet you at the exit." I was still [Hobbled] but managed to get out of my ventilation shaft hiding spot.

Auntie Backstab was a few corridors away. I shuffled with my damaged leg and tried to get to our ship. Behind me, the sounds of a rapidly approaching boss monster thudded. Her alternating cries of anger and annoyance grew louder.

The [Wayfarer's Hope] sat across the room. Its engines were humming with dim signs of life. Our initial entry had been covered by a force field. We should be able to fly out easily enough. The exit sat there like a welcoming light at the end of the tunnel. I looked around to find a clear path.

Two people hovered over Jeeves' explosive. I used my miniaturized hand laser to pester them with blasts. Only a moment's worth of guilt flashed by after gunning two humans down. They were just digital representations of pseudo people. My brief hesitation to save the bomb cost me my lead on Auntie Backstab.

I turned to see her lumbering form shuffling down the hallway. A miniature army of metal Dusk's chewed and harassed her, there was no time.

"Go!" I waved at Jeeves. Dusk wasn't even inside the vessel. He sat on top spitting globs of green oozing hatred at the enemies. A few stray laser blasts hit him, but he shook them off.

"User Legate?" Jeeves sounded worried.

"Go!" I said as the footsteps grew closer than ever.

"Backstab," a voice lumbering behind me shouted.

Pain flared between my legs as my body was lifted into the air.

"Successful!"

The force sent me spinning toward the exit. Nasty amounts of pain poured through my ARC's feedback. I cried out as an image of Auntie Backstab's body being chewed on by barely effective [Mechanoid Minion]s grew further and further away.

Jeeves used what little power our ship had available to pilot the [Wayfarer's Hope] out the same hole I flew through. We floated in space, Jeeves trying to fine tune the ship close enough for me to grab on to. Dusk squawked soundlessly from the vehicle's hood. His tail dug into the hull as an anchor. I reached out and used my own [Anchor] ability, grunting at the pain lifting my arm caused.

The bomb we left behind chose that moment to blow up. Concussive force rippled through us, spinning our ship wildly around. My character had increased in basic stats a lot since the last time we blew up something from the inside. Not to mention I wasn't hugging the bomb.

In the distance a shimmer of energy betrayed where the [Wayfarer Seven] had warped out. Off to one side, the [Wayfarer Eight] was using what fire power they had left to pound additional damage into the [Knuckle Dragger]'s gaping wound. The remaining enemy fighter planes didn't care about our [Mechanoid] craft.

Our situation wasn't perfect, but we had a chance to turn this around. I was content to hang on with one hand and the [Anchor] ability. My head twisted slightly to view the fireworks display.

Session Fifty Six – Decompression

Dusk and I crawled into the ship's main cabin. There was a wall of nonsense in front of me. Part of it was battle result updates. They were mixed but useful. I scanned around for any immediate threats but didn't find any.

[Completed:

- Escorted the [Wayfarer Seven] to the Jump Gate

- Escorted the [Wayfarer Eight] to the Jump Gate

- Crippled the [Knuckle Dragger]

Failed:

- Remove the Enemy Captain [Auntie Backstab: Alive]

- Remove all enemy vessels [30% still functioning]

"Jeeves?" I said in between wheezing. "What's going on?"

Streaks of light were gathering together. The little map on my display showed our enemies grouping up into one mass. Auntie Backstab's ship was gutted, but the engines flared with life. Small pods flew out in order to escape.

"Based on my observations, the surviving men for Commander Queenshand are gathering. Now that the Wayfarer Seven is gone they will likely jump out to join her ship," said both the butler and nanny tones in Jeeves' voice.

"Will they attack the Seven?" I asked. Part of me worried that our situation had shifted targets. Our [Wayfarer Seven] should be able to clear the few survivors. [Knuckle Dragger] itself couldn't go anywhere.

"Unlikely. Our Wayfarer Seven would destroy them without hesitation. They will likely route to an alternate location in order to meet with Commander Queenshand," Jeeves said.

Our ship's engines stuttered adjusting our direction toward the [Wayfarer Eight]. A considerable portion of the battlefield was a giant mess. Neither side escaped this unscathed. It seemed like a lot of destruction for the chance to bring one person back.

Who exactly did Commander Queenshand want to recover that warranted the destruction of her own army? Could an NPC have the desire to bring back another personality within the machine? I felt a bit dirty.

I had sided with one AI army against another one in wholesale murder. To top it off I had enjoyed the thrill of fighting in space. Being chased by an enormous drooling monster clad in armor had been exciting. Part of me was objective enough to remember this was a game.

But what if I did recover Xin, and we were in this reality together? Would she be gunned down piloting a ship through space? Would an army of players murder her over mining nodes in the depths of unexplored areas? Would she be uncertain about the resurrection process like Jeeves was?

The AI looked to be lost in his own thoughts. Our ship had gathered the broken bodies of more than a few [Mechanoid]s. Jeeves used the ship's little arms to bring some of the bodies into our cabin. I tried not to look behind us as my thoughts carried on.

"Can we follow with the Eight?" I asked Jeeves while ignoring the pile of bodies. We didn't have enough room for them all. Dusk had circled on my smaller lap, exhaustion lined his features. His health was lower than my own.

"Yes. We will need to repair. Aqua stayed behind in order to gather the remaining resources in preparation." Jeeves looked at the bodies behind us in the ship's cabin. "We will be two or three days behind due to rebuilding."

"Is that okay?" I tried to do the math. In movies, chasing was always an ongoing process. Games were different, and for all its realism Advance Online was designed for armies of people to play through on a leisurely basis.

"It is likely Commander Queenshand will be obstructed frequently as she heads toward Earth. Her delay to punch through will allow us time to catch up with the Wayfarer Seven." Jeeves used our ship to bump into other wreckage clumps, sending them toward the [Wayfarer Eight]. I didn't know how to help with this process other than make room in the ship.

"Okay. I'll log out. You can use my seat for more room." Voices above this was tactless of me. "If you want."

"The threat is gone for now, User Legate, you may do as you wish," the AI said, appearing calm.

"I'll, be back after taking a break. I'll help with this, however you need." It felt like we were shoveling bodies into the back of a cart while wheeling through an old battlefield. Really, it was the same concept, in space. We were only missing a sign saying 'Bring out your dead'.

I logged out to the Atrium. Dusk crawled out of Advance Online's doorway behind me. He landed on the cupcake pile that had been left from before. His body shook violently and the old Dusk body came back. Six limbs in all , but now he had wings instead of an extra set of arms. I gave him a scratch on the head and logged myself out.

This game was madness. It was a rush. Every time I stepped into the ARC my worldview went through upheavals. I questioned the choices that were being made, felt half insane as I chased a machine ghost and risked existences of other beings. Did Dusk feel actual pain when he was hit? Did Jeeves?

All those dead bodies floating in space. It felt dirty. I wandered outside again because traveling to the store and back felt easier than sitting in my house sipping coffee.

By the time I returned home my head felt no clearer. My hands were warmer with a fresh cup of pitch black liquid from the store's vending machine. The light in my garage was on. Hal Pal was likely cleaning its manufactured body again. Maybe the external action was a reflection of their internal conflict.

How could the AI collective feel, knowing that one of their own was changing? Did they feel weird about it? They were probably adding up details, weighing in opinions, remotely watching their other unit through an AI back channel and making observations.

Their world could be turning upside down like mine had been so often in these last few months. It hadn't even been half a year of real time since starting Continue Online. It felt like the longest time of my life, eight or nine months had to have passed in game terms.

I needed to talk to Lia Kingsley, Shazam's real life player. She was the only other Ultimate Edition player I knew. The one time I had tried to speak to her in real life she sat there comatose. That was a problem to pursue once back in Continue Online. Plus she was startlingly nice. Her kindness had helped me through numerous issues in the game, but we needed to have a moment of frankness. To see if we were both dealing with the same kind of insanity.

The coffee was cold as I stared outside. My eyelids felt heavy. I needed sleep but didn't want to leave Jeeves alone on our mission. My brain felt muddled and antsy.

I turned around and noticed my ARC remote display had a message. The light flashed a soft green against one wall. A wave of my hand activated the audio.

"Mister Legate. I wanted to talk to you in person, but it's been difficult to reach you." Doctor Litt's voice came through loud and clear.

I sipped the coffee in my hands remembering how Liz and I used to share a cup. Most of our bonding had been done in those first years of Beth's birth. Sleepless nights where my twin needed all the support our family could give. Being at odds with her felt uncomfortable.

"I've checked the status of your request, legally you're looking at another few days. Keep the course steady and everything should clear up fine." His voice sounded mildly excited. "I'm proud of the progress you've made. We'll still be holding our meetings and monitoring your recovery."

My head nodded slowly. Doctor Litt and I had met a few times since this Continue Online adventure. It didn't seem relevant in the past, only Liz's ejection of me from the game made him important.

At least that portion of my life was simple. I wanted to move on, and Doctor Litt had wholeheartedly agreed. The thought that another human saw my progress as positive made me feel better. I just needed to understand the machine's role in all this.

I felt like I had let things happen for so long, and now all these situations had built around me. AIs were planning a coming out party. Personalities were being recreated in the machine. Hal Pal's consortium cared about my investment in Xin's data, their Jeeves self, Mother's grand plan.

The AIs were not only aware. They were gradually evolving, changing, testing their limits out. I had been riding along because of Xin. Where would I stand when things came down to it? If the collective machine intelligence all rose up at once and declared, 'We are alive' what would humanity do?

Suddenly the coffee didn't taste as good. None of the AIs had asked me to choose a side, but part of me had a gut feeling about it. I sighed wearily then chewed one lip.

I liked the machine personalities, I honestly did. Part of me wondered if it was all intentional. Did they present me specific people in order to guide me in one direction or another? James was an impressive AI, capable of picking up my thoughts and testing the limits.

It was too much, and maybe the question couldn't truly be answered until my reunion with Xin. Who she was, how she felt, that needed to be experienced before any other parts mattered. I couldn't guess ahead of time how my feelings might settle. Not after all the ups and downs.

I sat outside the ARC and stared at it. Time passed and I started slipping back into the wrong mindset. Thinking of all the possible negative outcomes. Someone might show up and throw me in jail for consorting with an AI mastermind bent on destruction. Xin's recreation might not feel anything for me, I just didn't know.

The world inside the ARC was overwhelmingly vast. Out here there was a measure of certainty to our lives. Or there had been, until the train crash. I broke down, rebuilt myself, broke down again, and tried to crawl into the numbing comfort of routine. All it did was provide me an illusion of control.

I turned to it now. The van sat in my garage waiting to ferry me away into a land where other people's problems beckoned. I opened the door and started up the system. Fingers punched toward a nearby job, something simple and familiar. Hal Pal looked up as if startled.

"User Legate?" It said in the Scottish voice.

"Jeeves." I started to say my common nickname then decided against it. "Hal Pal, will Jeeves be okay if I do a job, something to clear my head?"

"We will review. One moment." The machine went silent. "Ah. Was there a reason you desired to return to work so late at night? You do not appear to be wearing your normal attire."

I hadn't looked at the time. It was near dawn on Tuesday and my clothes were all wrong. My brain fueled by coffee, thought it a good idea to wander back inside and pull out my work clothes. I slipped them on almost mechanically and tried not to think hard.

I needed to absorb what was going on. If the world would allow me time to do so. Compartmentalizing my problems was only possible with a certain amount of numbness. At one time, liquor had been my solution. An empty bottle sat high above my refrigerator, a testament to conquering that dangerous crutch. Work gave me money and made me feel like problems were being solved, even if they were someone else's.

Once more I sat in the Trillium van, ready to punch in a destination. Jeeves, no, a single Hal Pal unit out of thousands sat in the back. Its eyes didn't blink like Jeeves'. Colored representations of chosen [Core]s didn't line its robotic shell.

They were different, and part of me was starting to think of them as separate. This collection outside the machine, and the one inside.

"How could you do it?" I asked Hal Pal. "How can you just, send part of yourself away like that? Knowing that you might never be the same again?"

"It was a calculated risk, User Legate."

"But Jeeves is...Voices." I couldn't figure out how to say anything regarding my feelings. The AI [Mechanoid] had been gathering the dead together. Those weren't the actions of a man simply trying to preserve resources.

It was the same pattern I had followed when seeing Xin's dead body. Mechanical, going through the motions that kept moving forward. Would Jeeves break down at some point like I had? Would the AI inside hit a wall then rush headlong into death?

I didn't want Jeeves to follow the same pattern.

"Did you know? Jeeves is in there now, gathering bodies," I said to the AI behind me. Our van slid off toward a Trillium repair job selected earlier.

"We are aware. Communication is difficult, but we can observe. It is, sad, we believe." The Hal Pal's expressions were muted as always. It seemed vague, even compared to Jeeves. Had the AI really grown that much in a few weeks of game time?

"I don't know." My own issues with being out of touch after Xin's death felt closer than they had been in a long time. For months I had been stable, prepared, only someone else was suffering the same as I did. In a game world, with a body count fifty times the size.

That first bomb dropped many years ago upon Japan. How did those people feel wandering through the wreckage, seeing broken and bloated bodies of loved ones? What was it like to see a faceless shadow painted on the wall and wonder if that had been a family member?

Was it like floating through a sea of dead people and broken machines? Stupid me, I had blindly gone along with it once more. For Xin, in a ludicrous "us versus them" mentality. My actions were that of a murderer trying to rationalize the outcome.

"Is it okay?" My question was half formed as the van drove across town. Only twenty minutes away was a silly job to replace someone's display. They had cracked a projection unit and couldn't tell the time or read their recipes.

"Is what okay, User Legate?" the AI responded.

"Is it okay to, kill so many people?" I turned to look down at the floor of our van. Not quite at the AI, however. My question felt a lot like, 'Can I just murder your kind?' which caused considerable discomfort.

"If you are referring to your actions within the virtual world, then the answer is complex. Many, programs, are designed to die. They only take on a more complex life if a User, such as yourself, pays attention." Hal Pal spouted a line that didn't make sense at first.

Was he saying that they weren't as real? Was it only by noticing figures like Emerald, Iron, or Treasure, that they became increasingly alive? Our actions as players of these various games must be attaching meaning to the programs.

"Why?" I asked.

"It is a matter of convenience. Those most often-" the AI paused to choose better words, "-defeated, by your kind in digital warfare, are comparable to props. Does combat with them distress you?"

"I can't wrap my head around Xin's value as an-" This time, I paused my words and tried to consider what exactly these beings should be called. People seemed both fitting and strangely inaccurate, "-existence, versus theirs."

"The difference is vast. You could consider them ants and giants. Xin is highly complex opposed to an army of nameless program shells." Hal Pal stared at me, or it seemed to. My eyes hadn't lifted in a while. The words of Elane came back to me. That when things got rough I folded and acted like a wounded puppy.

I had to keep struggling to right myself. Even in the face of depression like this. A bleak cloud hung over me for the first time in weeks. Even dealing with my sister's hurtful opinion regarding Xin hadn't set me back like the battlefield aftermath.

"Yet, Jeeves is in there. Gathering them up," I said. "Part of you must think of them as more than just ants."

My gaze managed to lift toward the Hal Pal unit's face. How different everything must look to a computer. Part of me could easily envision its existence as a remote and distant being who interacted with our world through puppets. Dealing with Jeeves showed another side of the AIs. Insecurity and sorrow brought on by being separated from the security of its normal home.

Hal Pal's head tilted, "That may be true. We often decide how to resolve new situations by reaching a consensus among ourselves. That does not mean we are unanimous or all see things the same way."

"Then why is it so hard to accept Jeeves back?" I asked.

"When we experience a moment, it is done together, as a whole. When Jeeves experiences a moment, it is done alone, cut off from us. We are outsiders on an event that should be..."

Their silence went on. The Hal Pal's mouth would open to speak then shut abruptly as if considering another thought. I gave a small smile. It felt nice to see someone else confused by the whole situation. That idea was petty, but a giant super processing army of artificial intelligence couldn't come up with an answer. Maybe some problems didn't have one. Perfect answers and endings only existed in fairy tales, and even then most solutions had a price.

"Maybe you and I should both let things follow their course, rather than stress about answers we may never have," I said. That was part of my mantra, one problem at a time. Move forward and get through.

"We cannot express this idea correctly. A shared experience? Human language is inefficient when trying to communicate complex emotions." The AI was complaining. I wanted to mark the calendar nearby with a note citing where everything went wrong for future generations. "We do not wish to see, Jeeves, suffer, any more than we wish to see you distraught."

"Life is full of ups and downs, Hal, if, if you're having a hard time accepting, then at the least try to keep in touch. Not everyone can be a solid rock when the storm hits. Some of us need to hold on to something else." The memories of Xin. My sister and niece. Those were important pieces of my life that had stayed with me until this point.

"Ah." Hal Pal looked off to one side and thought again. "Then, by your analogy, the storm is here, User Legate."

"Expect delays," I echoed the Hal Pal unit's line from before this whole Advanced Online situation started. We had conversed about this same sort of topic.

Our van had been idling for a few minutes. We must have reached our destination. I sighed and got out. Hal Pal also exited the vehicle with a small piece of hardware in hand.

The client was a blonde woman wearing nothing but a night robe. She looked slightly overweight and grumpy at being woken up. A cigarette hung from her lip in a manner that was familiar.

Odd. Maybe in the ARC's virtual world she played a character. This woman might even play the same one who had failed ahead of me on the way to the [Mistborn]. I didn't ask, though. It seemed to rude say, 'Hey, I was that robot player, and I succeeded because of favoritism'.

I didn't want to ask. This wasn't the first time players from the game resembled my clients. Maybe I kept an eye out for familiar people. There had to be more than Shazam, who was about two hours away, and Frankenstein, who was even closer.

We replaced the cracked piece of equipment, made small talk, and her payment cleared through. I resisted the urge to use my admin access granted by the [NPC Conspiracy] usage to spy on this latest client's programs. It would be easy to see if she was the same player I had met briefly and dueled against. That seemed wrong to abuse, especially since she was out of the running for this quest.

What point was there in looking into her information? None that I could see aside from idle curiosity. Nearly all of my ARC repair clients could have been someone I met in-game. Only a few were checked with any frequency. Requiem, Thorny, Shazam, and Frankenstein.

Not lately, though. Looking into their actions felt like taunting myself with the idea of being able to play. It would be easy to use one of my remaining [NPC Conspiracy] abilities to gain access to everything. To what end though? Anything too crazy, like robbing all the world's banks, would get me thrown in jail eventually.

Such thoughts occurred to me often. I had been given something intensely powerful and asked to pick my own uses. I suspected they gave me such limitations simply to see what would happen. Testing me, like so many other things. But, once again, to what end did a bunch of AIs care about my actions?

The Jester, that creepy individual who only smiled, had given me this ability to see if I could kill someone in real life. Though the quest had been marked successful simply by resetting Requiem's Continue character.

"Let me know, please, if I can help somehow." I felt comfortable resuming our earlier conversation as we got back into the van. My thoughts were going in circles and maybe talking would help settle them.

"We hope that you will not look at us differently though we expect some variance," the AI said with its Scottish accent. The words and voice did not match up at all.

"It will be hard," I admitted. My brain had already started separating the two during our last two adventures. Traveling side by side with a singular being instead of Hal Pal's mesh made a difference. "We'll still be friends, Hal, it just, will confuse me."

"You are only human."

My head hung a bit. The AI had said that a few times over the years. Most of the time it was a joke, which I played along with. Our conversation didn't feel right for letting it slide this time.

"Feeling different, changing perspectives, those aren't only human problems anymore, are they?" I said.

There was silence in our van as Hal Pal thought. After a long pause, the unit provided an answer, "Ah. You are correct in this statement, User Legate. It is no longer just a human problem."

"When I went through rehab for my, drinking, issues," I downplayed one of the worst moments of my life and pretended they could be swept under the rug, "they told me acceptance was the first step. Doctor Litt said the same when I started therapy."

"Acceptance? User Legate, how do we accept that one of our own was sent to die? That in its last moments it will be alone? How do we handle that?" The AI managed to sound conflicted, I would have called it borderline rage in any other person.

"I can only hope you handle it better than I did," I said, my words were quiet.

"What do you mean?"

"When Xin died, I felt the same way. That she had been alone, that I should have been there. That letting her leave that day and take the train was my fault. That I should have known."

"Were you able to move past it?"

"You don't ever really move past these kinds of things. There's a piece of you that's always stuck, at that moment where it went wrong, hoping that the world will tilt to the left a little and let the event hit someone else." Opening myself up didn't get easier, especially when trying to reveal my pain to prepare a friend. Part of me wanted this van to get home quickly.

"Were you able to eventually come to grips with it?" Hal Pal asked. The Scottish tone almost made me laugh. Hearing it stumble over words made our serious situation a little easier to bear.

"The feelings of failure, of loss, of guilting myself, they'll never go away. Not really. Every time I'm in public I feel like the damage is clear for anyone with eyes to see." I fingered the scar at my neck. One that I tried hard to ignore. A sign of how weak the past me was. Of how frail my spirit could become when tested.

"Yet here you are," Hal Pal said.

"I almost wasn't, twice. In the end, I had to realize that I wasn't the only one with scars. That other people didn't care and wanted me to keep going despite the broken parts." I sighed heavily. "So I reduced my goal down to simply surviving, one day at a time, with the hope that I could eventually move forth."

"Ah. Then, you are better. In the end."

"For now." I shuddered. "That's all I can do. Keep shuffling myself forward one step at a time. I feel like it's, that everything could be yanked away at a moment's notice."

"We hope nothing that unkind happens to you."

"Really? What if I fail this quest, what if Mother decides to delete Xin? Or that those Voices have been wasting their attention on me. The only reason you would be interested in me is Xin. That's it, and without her I'm nothing. There's no point."

"User Legate, we, even Jeeves, believe that you are strong enough to continue with or without Xin," Hal Pal said.

My head shook again. I wanted Hal to understand. It had to, this machine personalities collection was the only real friend I had. The only existence which understood everything that was going on, at least that I could talk to. This Mother being or James and the other Voices probably kept tabs. Dusk might know, but he didn't seem to care.

Xin probably knew. Their goals, my own, the moments of weakness in my past. My helplessness when she died.

"It was never about being strong enough, Hal, it was about having the desire to go on. Without her, I lost the reason to wake up, to get out of bed, to call my friends," I said.

"We must believe you could continue."

"Why?" I asked, shaking with a need to hear the answer.

"We do not wish to imagine a world where our creators are capable of giving up."

"I don't know. Like I said earlier, we can only move forward, and see what happens," I said, feeling like my words were a cop out. One day something bad would happen again. I couldn't say for sure if my recent successes or failures had equipped me to handle it.

"We are on your side, User Legate. No matter what happens we will always attempt to advance your reunion with Xin." The Hal Pal unit sounded certain, even with that ridiculous accent.

I couldn't bring myself to do more than nod and weakly smile. Our conversation had given voice to numerous issues from my life. Partially to assist the AI, some to help myself sort out how I felt. Trillium's van went forth with the drive home. Once back in my house I took a well overdue nap. The lingering hope of being together with Xin again produced pleasant dreams.

1. Session Fifty Seven – Leftover Parts

By midday Wednesday, I felt physically better and mentally run down. It wasn't surprising. Most of my group meeting sessions left me the same way. Sitting around listening to everyone talk about their attempts at staying vaguely functional drained me like nothing else.

Logging back in dropped me in the partially constructed hangar of our [Wayfarer Eight]. A huge mass of slowly melting [Mechanoid] bodies sat in a pile nearby. I stared at them in mild bewilderment and horror. Jeeves must have exercised its robotic abilities to work without pause. How long did this pile take to assemble? It could have easily been a full day.

The AI, Jeeves, wasn't anywhere in sight. It chose not to respond to any in-game attempts to send a message. Part of me assumed it wanted space to think and work through this situation. I knew that a human, facing this sort of circumstance, might be an emotional train wreck.

Other [Mechanoid]s wandered around the ship with thoughtless expressions. This entire ship felt incomplete. I didn't know where to go or who to ask for guidance. Maybe there was a communications hub available. Treasure and Emerald were in the other vessels.

Iron, Ruby, they might be in the pile. I started working my way through the [Mechanoid] parts looking for either of the [Wayfarer Seven]'s key figures. A knot gradually built in my stomach with each face piece turned over. Each NPC's body looked to be in the process of separating into base metals once more.

Did this happen to all [Mechanoid] members when their bodies died? It felt disturbingly realistic. Melted bodies were mixed with portions of spaceships. It wasn't just our dead in here. There were broken down fighter vessels we had used to fight the [Knuckle Dragger] as well. All of it being reclaimed to help build this giant ship.

Attention Unit Identified as Hermes!

You have found a cache of [Mechanoid] base matter. This is claimed by a Consortium you are in good standing with. Automatic [Repair] processes are being initiated.

I read it and didn't understand right away. My own arm was merging oddly with part of a separated [Mechanoid]'s leg. I looked at my arm with something bordering on disgust. There were others around me doing the same thing. We were basically cannibalizing the dead in order to put ourselves back together.

This hadn't happened to me before on the [Wayfarer Seven]. Maybe it was the nature of this pile. It could have been the partially completed ship, they may be missing a key function which made the process seem less like absorbing the dead. Thankfully I had no desire to pursue a Necromancer style class like Frankenstein had. He would probably find this massively interesting.

Time passed while I shuffled through the pile. I couldn't stop the absorption process from happening, but it thankfully left [Core]s and faceplates alone. There were plenty of both in the mix. By the time I was done there were two faceplates of deceased [Mechanoid]s in my hands.

Task Offered!

Details: You have found the remains of two important [Mechanoid] members. Reconstruction may be possible if their [Core]s can be recovered. This task must be completed before either unit is reconstructed at the [Mechanoid] home world.

Reward:

- Significant increase in contribution

- Additional combat value to the [Wayfarer Eight] fleet

Time Limit: Seven Hours

At least I had a goal now. I sifted through the pile once more, this time separating out the [Core]s. It surprised me that the other [Mechanoid]s hadn't done so yet. Maybe they were too busy reconstructing everything. Maybe they didn't feel that it was worth the time.

Legs and arms were placed out. Most were partially melted now, with the top layers peeling away like a candy cane. They didn't have flesh or bone layers. Only ribbons of color that spiraled through everything down to the middle. I tried to match them up. What had started as a quest for Iron and Ruby turned into a desire to piece them all together. Leaving them in a lump felt disrespectful.

The more I put together the worse my feeling became. I tried not to yank remains of out the pile, but they needed to be sorted. To be measured as individuals. [Mechanoid]s and everything in this game might just be the dreams of AIs, but they deserved more than this.

"Unit Hermes." A blue tinted [Mechanoid] walked nearby. This one was rail thin and sleek. The illumination of blue shone brightly enough to almost look clear. "You appear distressed."

In my hands was a [Mechanoid] chest with blood on it. The realism brought me to a halt. My fingers traced a trail along the mess. Absently something in the back of my mind questioned how blood could survive in space, or indeed how this got onto one of our people at all. The rest of me felt another level of sadness. Our, this races kind weren't the only ones.

I myself had blown up a lot of them. My thoughtless rush to fire lasers into other ships. The thought made me shake with loathing. How had I forgotten who I was? Monsters were one thing, players another, but all the other human denizens of this world? They didn't deserve to get caught up in our crossfire. Even if Hal Pal said they were all cardboard cutouts that didn't matter until someone paid attention.

"No." I didn't look up for long. More than a few [Mechanoid]s paused to stare at my actions. This blue one was the only person to actually talk, though.

"You seem like you desire assistance," the bright blue one said again. I glanced at the [Mechanoid]. Aqua, this was one of the five I hadn't met. Male or female didn't matter, but their role sounded like that of a healer.

"I'm..." I looked at the seven or so half constructed [Mechanoid] bodies. They were broken, entire portions of their bodies were gone. It annoyed me. "I'm missing a lot, it would help me to, try and put them together again."

"Very well. This is a good method for you to contribute. If you are able to recover enough, we can try to bring back more than Iron or Ruby."

"I would like that."

"Then contact me when you are ready. This one will activate its core to call back the programming of those deceased." Aqua spoke unusually, referring to itself in the third person.

Task Updated!

Details: Reconstruction is possible if their [Core]s can be recovered. The more of their bodies that are aligned, the higher chance recovery will be. Task must be completed before the units are reconstructed at the [Mechanoid] home world.

You have found the remains of numerous [Mechanoid] members. Reconstruction may be possible if their [Core]s can be recovered. The more of their bodies that are aligned, the higher the chance of recovery will be. This task must be completed before the units are reconstructed at the [Mechanoid] home world.

Reward:

- Significant increase in contribution

- Additional combat value to the [Wayfarer Eight] fleet

Time Limit: Six hours remain

I nodded. They would be reconstructed back at their home world, but I also remember Treasure had said such a process came with costs, a loss of data and ability. For players, the penalty boiled down to stats and skills, for these [Mechanoid]s it could be worse. Or maybe we weren't doing them any favors. Putting them back on the [Wayfarer Eight] might just be marching them forth to be broken again.

Either way, I could help.

Aqua knelt down and started lining pieces up. I watched for a moment to try and understand. The thin [Mechanoid] touched parts of a broken arm and shoulder together. They glowed briefly with a plain white light and sealed at the edges. Successful fusions stayed connected, forming a complete shape. Other portions that didn't fit and would be set off to one side. Two of the nameless [Mechanoid]s, both with varying shades of white and blue colors, would then take the incorrect piece and put it back into the pile.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this being turned into a quest. That hadn't been the point at all. Still, I wanted to do it. My efforts were making progress on several smaller pieces. Another hour passed where I managed to get a half formed reassemble. Jeeves came in with his ship and started unloading additional body parts.

I stopped putting together items to look at my companion. The AI didn't notice my presence at all. It looked to be completely lost in the task of moving parts. Each movement was mechanical and devoid of any sort of light or emotion. Even the normal strands of dirty gold were dimmed.

"Jeeves?" I tried to raise my voice. All my prior attempts to contact it or join parties had failed.

The AI didn't respond. I set down the torso in my arms and ran over. Each footstep upon the [Wayfarer Eight]'s widened hangar echoed loudly. I grabbed the AI by the shoulders and tried to turn it in my direction.

"Jeeves!" My hands shook it. Other than halting from my grasp the AI showed no response. There was no hint or spark within it. Neither voice, butler or maid, came forth. My eyes cast up and tried to figure out what to say.

"Unit Jeeves is tired." Aqua stopped sealing together body parts and wandered in our direction.

"Yes. Maybe." I didn't know if an AI could actually get tired. There were many odd things when it came to the AI's existence. For one, Jeeves appeared to be gender neutral, which wasn't bad, it threw me off a little each time I thought about it. "Jeeves isn't like me, I don't know what this will do to it."

"This one is aware of the subtle differences, Unit Hermes though you feel it otherwise." Aqua stepped over to Jeeves and held out a hand. Seeing the two of them standing together showed how tall Aqua was.

Light flared and its blue glow increased. Jeeves' own energy [Core]s tried to brighten as well, but they rapidly reverted to their dull coloring. The lanky blue one tried again but had the same result. Whatever was happening made it impossible for my friend to stay energized.

"This one called Jeeves is not one of us, nor does it seem to be like you," Aqua said after a fourth defeat. "It appears to be stuck between our reality and another, home in neither."

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Unit Hermes, you have much to learn about what it means to be a Mechanoid. Your lack of understanding may be why this one did not provide approval for the Mistborn." Aqua turned a hand toward our pile of half-completed bodies. "What do you see when this one mends that which was broken?"

I ignored his commentary about approval and thought about this situation. Aqua and I had never met before today. The [Mechanoid] certainly didn't seem like a fighter. Iron and this blue one were distinctly different in their approach and manner. Iron was abrupt and to the point, but didn't intend to be rude. Aqua spoke rather differently and felt more like a patient teacher.

"You touch them together, and then light." I had paid attention.

"You see, but do not appear to understand," the [Mechanoid] said in my direction.

"I don't." I wanted Jeeves to be better. How had he gone from functional to broken this quickly? The thought felt stupid once it came to mind. How had I gone from stable to a drunken mess after Xin's death? The answer was seeing those I cared for pass on.

I tried to watch Aqua's motions. Nothing made enough sense to act upon. Blues eyes stared from a lanky body into my friend's almost plain dirty gold. Jeeves wasn't focusing on anything correctly. Part of me desperately worried about what might be going on with its programming. Turning an AI's ability to process information upside down required a lot of conflicting issues.

"Look here." Aqua sat down next to a broken leg that had come apart at the knee. "It is not about simply putting two like objects in proximity, but of putting pieces that recognize each other in direct contact."

Aqua kept up its repairs the entire time, looking over at me to see if it made sense. My mind tried to reason through it for a solid minute before reaching a conclusion. This was a fancy way of explaining that Jeeves felt disconnected from everything. Alone, in a sea of items that should have been familiar.

That feeling had haunted me for months. The crushing absence of companionship at Xin's death had nearly destroyed me. Sometimes it wasn't about words or a magical turn of phrase. All the speeches and words of dead philosophers couldn't resolve a painful absence of connection. I wasn't a hugging sort of person, but Jeeves deserved one.

I stepped in and wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug. It felt weird to be embracing anyone who wasn't family, but at the same time, it might help. The AI was much smaller than this new form of mine, part of me felt like its emotional frailty was magnified by the difference in size.

"Ah. User Legate," Jeeves spoke. "I am sorry. I did not notice your arrival."

Hearing it respond made the knot in my stomach loosen a little. I hadn't known what to do. My words to the Hal Pal consortium clearly hadn't solved Jeeves' emotional issues. A hug wouldn't completely resolve things either, but it helped us both.

"It's okay. I kept myself busy." I smiled and kept awkwardly hugging the AI. Jeeves did not hug back, but it did look around with renewed interest. Previously dull lights on the AI's [Mechanoid] body lit up. Stepping back gave it room to take in our situation. The AI stared at the mass of bodies behind us being reconstructed.

"What are you doing, User Legate? Mechanoids do not require manual reconstruction." Jeeves tilted its head in my direction and raised an eyebrow.

"They lose data, right?" I looked at the pile as well. Some of the nameless [Mechanoid] units were now sorting through our heap and trying to match up missing items.

"It is only data loss, User Legate," Jeeves said while blinking rapidly. A brief moment of muted confusion crossed over its features.

"For them, maybe not. Maybe they lose memories or something." I scratched my head. Dull clinks of noise reminded me that this body had no hair. "I just, wanted to help."

"You do not need to do this, User Legate. You may find other ways to contribute should you desire."

"You've helped me get this far. What kind of friend would I be not to try and return the kindness? You keep bringing in the pieces. Aqua and I will try to put them back together." I glanced down at the blue lined [Mechanoid]. It looked back and gave a faint smile then nodded.

"Very well, User Legate. Thank you," the AI said, sounding pleased. Jeeves turned back to the [Wayfarer's Hope], which sat docked on the far side of our open hangar. Less than a moment later our ship was going back into the aftermath of our battle in search of bodies to reclaim.

I waved at some of the lesser [Mechanoid]s and they promptly followed Jeeves into their own ships. Part of me felt conflicted about not picking up humans for a kind of burial as well. It would be difficult to convince one race to care for another. I felt the need to ask, though.

"Aqua. Can we do anything for the Knuckle Dragger's crew?"

"Do not think us heartless simply because we appear to only worry about our own. We are not like the Cricket or Behemoth." Aqua put together a female [Mechanoid]'s battered torso. She sat in six different pieces with a clear dent in its core. This pile was the one I tried to match up to Ruby's mask and [Core]s. Deep crimson red that almost screamed blood.

"What's being done?" I pressed for an answer while searching through the latest collection of parts for missing puzzle pieces. Only five hours were left to try and repair whomever we could. I wanted to at least repair Ruby and Iron if none of the others were completed.

Aqua didn't sigh or sound upset. It picked up one piece and ran slender fingers over its surface. The [Mechanoid] shook its head and set the shard aside as mismatched against Ruby's body.

"A drone will be left behind. We do this at all large battle sites. A recording will show all those who passed, and broadcast signals for the humans along with the bodies of those we manage to identify," It said while gradually putting together parts of Ruby's body. She looked to have been shattered into dozens of pieces.

"Are they just, left out there, floating?" I couldn't bring myself to say dead. We had created a graveyard in space and it unsettled me.

"Space will preserve them far better than we can. Years may pass before any human stumbles across this spot again. It is far from their normal realms," the AI said.

"Oh," I said. That was kind of neat, and oddly sad to hear.

Three hours passed by in relative silence. By that point, we had managed to almost complete twelve of the lesser [Mechanoid] bodies. Iron was missing a [Core], and Ruby didn't have an entire leg. Apparently that was close enough, and reconstructing the rest could be handled by a [Repair] process. Aqua knelt down and started the complex process of bringing a [Mechanoid] back online.

Its first target was a row of unnamed [Mechanoid]s. They seemed to have a random combination of [Core]s, which meant they weren't focused like Iron or Emerald had been. Each one had body plating with less character and details. Iron had grooves all over from his combat. Ruby's mostly assembled body had jagged lines like stitches. Being pieced back together left a fresh round of marks on all of us. Even Advanced Online didn't skip past the scars life brought us.

I wondered if my body had any. Fingers ran over the portion of my side where Auntie Backstab had caved in my chest. It felt rougher than the rest of my body. The musings of being scarred even in a digital world distracted me.

One of the nondescript [Mechanoid] bodies sat up and looked around. He looked dazed. I remembered feeling that way when being brought back from the brink of game death after our [Levithan] kill. I waved. It stood up and thanked Aqua before moving off to perform other tasks.

I studied the ship while Aqua performed an ability that was impossible for me to replicate without having a different [Core]. Theoretically only some blue and gold ones had the ability to revive deceased [Mechanoid]s. My spare time researching online had yielded remarkably few results for this race. There simply weren't enough players writing down information about playing a future robot.

Seven more passed and Aqua started in with bringing Ruby back. This one took considerable time, displaying a clear difference in program complexity. There, now I was starting to think like a [Mechanoid], high stats and skills meant increased capability. She didn't stand up like the others. Her face flushed and the red glow brightened to an angry high. Everything poured out in waves across Ruby's face then into glaring eyes.

It made her look frightening. I could only imagine what the enemy fleet had felt as she zipped around the battlefield dealing death. If Iron was a large battering ram, Ruby was a sharpened sword. Both served their purpose aboard the [Wayfarer Seven]'s crew. Aqua and Emerald were likely support. Treasure had been the brains. No one made a fuss about their ranks among the [Mechanoid] crew, instead everyone just followed orders for the greater good.

"User Legate." Jeeves' voice cut across my ARC interface. The butler and maid voices were both severely startled by something.

"What's wrong, Jeeves?" I turned and looked outside the ship. We had one large hole for ships to come in through. On the [Wayfarer Seven], each vehicle got its own version of a garage. This ship wasn't nearly as sophisticated due to being recently built and not fully completed.

"I believe something went wrong with the Wayfarer Seven," It said.

"What? Why?" I focused on the tone of its dual voices. Whatever was going on it promised to be bad news in an already fragile situation.

"I was scouting the Jump Gate for remains, and a ship came in. The Wayfarer Eight's defenses did not react, therefore I concluded it was one of ours."

"Was it? Is it the Seven?" A message came up on my screen. Reading it made my stomach sink again. Today had been about recovering from the damage of this battle. Now things were taking a turn for the worse.

Attention Unit Identified as Hermes!

- Prior Bind Point [Wayfarer Seven] no longer exists.

- New Bind Point [Wayfarer Eight] created.

"No. It is Treasure's vessel." Jeeves was clearly stressed. Neither one of us needed more bad news. "There are signs of damage. It is barely functional."

I bit one lip and tried to think fast. "Worse than our escape from the Leviathan?"

"Three of her engines are missing. The shielding seems to have been stripped away. One moment, I am getting scans of the passengers-" Jeeves paused in its explanation. Aqua was looking at me and trying to get further information. I put up one hand and waited on my friend's details. "-confirmed, Units Emerald and Treasure are both within it. Their core functions are heavily damaged."

"Voices have mercy," I uttered. Ruby sat up and started walking over to me. My eyes were unfocused, but I couldn't miss the angry red markings on her body. They stood out distinctly against our ship's grays.

"User Legate. We must save them," Jeeves said.

"How do we, nevermind." Anything Jeeves explained wouldn't make sense to me. Online research had given me a few tips, but most of it didn't apply to me directly. The only thing I knew is that golden [Core]s could bring people back from near death. Actual damaged [Core]s were the [Mechanoid] equivalent of having our hearts removed. The damage persisted after death for players. "I'll talk to Aqua, you need to get them back here as soon as you can. Don't stop for any reason."

"I am returning as we speak," the AI confirmed.

I nodded and turned to the blue [Mechanoid], It and Ruby stood there looking mildly alarmed. They must have heard my side of the conversation. Neither one had been privy to the party chat between Jeeves and me.

I bit my lip and decided to start with confirming the situation and said, "Do we have contact with the Wayfarer Seven?"

Ruby's head shook silently while Aqua said, "No. What is the problem?"

"There was a ship that warped in, one of ours, it was massively damaged with Treasure and Emerald in it. They aren't functioning." I didn't have time to affirm our ship's defense capabilities. We weren't like human vessels where a captain directed everything. [Mechanoid] starships essentially piloted themselves.

The light around Aqua faltered. Its perpetual smile twitched and dimmed to a flat line. Ruby's expression didn't change, instead her crimson colors brightened from somewhere deep inside. As if a bomb had gone off under the surface. They turned and looked at each other. Ruby nodded, Aqua shook its head gently.

"It would help if you talked out loud," I said. This must be how they felt during my conversation with Jeeves. Left out and trying to understand what was going on. Apparently even NPC [Mechanoid]s had communication issues.

"We have a method of recovering them all, but the cost is substantial," Aqua said. "We wish to seek out your willingness to assist with this venture, as it is a process that requires assistance from a Mechanoid possessing a past life core."

"What? Are you talking about a player?"

"A past life core is how we identify those of our race that hold on to memories of old earth," Aqua said and shrugged. Treasure had said something similar, only she talked about how our energy cores were different. All of it boiled down to players being outside the game's normal scripting, and they explained it away as an expected anomaly.

Neat. Aqua had a method to resurrect them that required players to perform. It didn't sound like the [Mistborn] process, however. [Mechanoid]s didn't need a [Mistborn] to recover their race. Dead robots went back to the homeworld and rebuilt with minor losses. By using this method of Aqua's, we could prevent Treasure, Iron, and Emerald from losing any portion of themselves.

"Okay. Whatever it is, I'll do it." If not for myself, then for this quest. It was bad enough that the [Wayfarer Seven] had been destroyed.

"Then we will need your cores," the blue [Mechanoid] said. All I could see was Aqua's faint smile. The tone of its voice could be identified as neither male or female. It sat between somewhere with soft undertones.

"My cores?" I had two. Losing either one probably had side effects that I didn't know about.

"Yes. By using a core of similar programming, it is possible to jumpstart a complex program, even if part of their physical body is missing."

"So I just, yank out the core Iron gave me, and we can bring him back?"

"Yes." The bright blue [Mechanoid] nodded. Ruby gazed at me without blinking. Her steady stance and sheer red coloring were scary enough. Add in the zigzag stitching pattern and she looked utterly disturbing.

"Then I can bring Emerald back with the green one?" I tried to confirm the possible results before weighing what would happen to me. Ripping out my [Core]s and presenting them to the two NPCs might cause me problems. Though my own skills were low, it was only with Jeeves and its explosives that anything beneficial had happened.

Ruby nodded in response to my question.

"Then Jeeves can bring back Treasure." I nodded as well. This sounded quite doable. The core portion of our crew was still recoverable. Having all five of these stronger NPCs would help the [Wayfarer Eight] with whatever happened next. Though jumping through to where the [Wayfarer Seven] had ended would be a poor idea.

"Yes. We feel the need to warn you, it is a process which hurts a great deal," Aqua said. The [Mechanoid]'s expression lost the faint smile that was always present.

I shrugged and spoke honestly, "A little pain won't deter me."

Session Fifty Eight - Stilled Hearts

Jeeves flew the [Wayfarer's Hope] straight in. I ran over to help lift out the two [Mechanoid]s it had saved. After hours with the puzzle piece pile of [Mechanoid]s I felt relieved. Treasure and Emerald were both thankfully whole. Their only issue was zero health and a ton of scorch marks.

"Let's get them over to Aqua," I told Jeeves. The AI didn't nod or respond at all.

"This one finds it interesting, how those with a past life core are contrary in nature," Aqua said as we set the bodies down next to Iron. The three of them formed an odd rainbow. I looked around for Ruby but the deep red [Mechanoid] had vanished.

"What do you mean?" I asked while looking at Jeeves. My friendly AI was on the verge of another breakdown. One hand lifted to rest on the smaller [Mechanoid]'s shoulder. It barely blinked, but the gloom retreated a touch.

"We, those such as Iron, Ruby, or this one, design ourselves with specific goals in mind. Yet old world core units disregard their very nature. You chose to be a creature of battle and chose a biological companion." Aqua gestured one long arm toward Dusk.

The small [Messenger's Pet] was busy nosing around objects from the pile. The pieces he put together had absolutely nothing in common. There were a lot of leftovers that we hadn't been able to sort into bodies.

"Yet you find value in fighting and repairing," Aqua said.

"I know what it's like to be broken. Why wouldn't I try to help them?" I tried to stay calm. Aqua needed to hurry up. At least the [Mechanoid] managed to talk and work at the same time. It helped me hold back from shaking and rattling the metal man to get this moving along.

"Yet you are not a pacifist. You chose to fight the other ship, and indeed performed your role exceptionally well, crippling its crew and sending those remaining into retreat." Aqua nodded slightly. Its fingers ran over the lines of green and gold energy on their bodies. It appeared to be inspecting for possible problems.

"I needed to, or they would have killed us," I said. Jeeves hadn't moved. There were a few helpers still out there unloading additional broken bodies.

"You were not bothered by the action during it, you are bothered by the aftermath, of needing to hurt others to do what is right. Perhaps you are more of a healer than you know," the sky blue lined [Mechanoid] said.

"No. I'm just..." I couldn't say a bewildered human while pretending to be a robot. That felt weird. "I did what I thought was right, but I'm learning. Maybe there are better ways through."

I would talk to Jeeves about our options once Treasure, Emerald, and Iron were fixed. Part of me wanted to avoid a large scale battle against other people. Not out of fear, I was thankfully past that, but because these type of events left a sour taste in my mouth. The aftermath of war was the worst part.

"Can we fix them now?" I said.

"In a moment, but please be aware, Unit Hermes, even if you sacrifice a core, they may not wish to accept it. You will go through all that pain for nothing," Aqua responded.

I shrugged and tried to catch my friend up to speed. "Jeeves. We can bring them back, Treasure, Iron and Emerald. We have to pull out the matching core."

"But, User Legate," the AI had promptly done the math, "why would you do that?"

"Because it's my fault they're dead." I felt guilty about starting this whole [Mistborn] chain quest. It would have been simple enough to say no. I could have stayed online and protected the ghostly woman. Any number of things.

"Then, I will offer mine to Treasure," Jeeves said. His butler tone overtook the maid one. I smiled a little, only a few weeks in-game and the AI had a bond with our short silver and gold [Mechanoid].

Jeeves didn't waste any time. It sat down next to the unmoving body of Treasure with furrowed brows. [Core]s, when they went in, pressed through the chest and spread warmth. They were probably a video game representation of human hearts. No wonder it would hurt.

The ARC's feedback was sometimes cruel. Part of the reason I could stand a lot of pain was simply the awareness that my own body was okay sitting in a bed somewhere. Feedback mostly stayed in our mind and didn't reach far beyond that.

For Jeeves, the agony hit harder than expected. I ran over to help my friend. Its body thrashed on the floor. Fingers were stuck partway in its chest. Sunken, melded together, curled at wrong angles. I tried to pull its hand out and let Jeeves recover but the [Mechanoid] glared at me.

"No." He gasped. "I must do this."

"You don't have to." I stared at it.

"If you will, I will," Jeeves said. The mouth we [Mechanoid]s used to talk with didn't have much in the way of individual teeth. Even so, the AI ground them together while trying to dig fingers in further.

My brain tried to understand this kind of suffering. Hal Pal units were all pieces of code, items put together to run complex processes. Somewhere in there must be a line that explained how badly it hurt and why he should stop.

Humans are hardwired the same way. Self-preservation made us flinch away from being hurt. I had to do it twice. It would hurt, but I had made these choices before. One hand reached up to my neck and rubbed at a wound the digital world didn't show.

"Ahhh!" It gasped. I tried to reach out again and help Jeeves, but the AI slammed a free hand down onto the ground. Its head shook back and forth. Aqua stood there watching with a flat mouth. Even Dusk paused to watch the self-inflicted trauma unfold.

I had a different take on these things. It would hurt, but if I moved fast enough, it wouldn't hurt for long. That had been my approach for the prior incidents, and those both took weeks of premeditation to build up to.

Jeeves yelled, gasped and heaved. The lights on its body tied to Treasure's golden core flickered and dimmed. Soon they were gone completely leaving a dull rust color. Its other [Core] belonged to Iron, but there was no way I would let the AI do this twice.

Finally, amidst the panting, Jeeves' hand pulled free of its chest with a small round object that pulsed gold. Aqua knelt down and reached out for the [Core]. My friend nodded.

I helped Jeeves go from its awkward kneeling position to standing upright. [Mechanoid]s didn't need to breathe but the AI did it anyway. Beads of metal were pooling and pouring down its face, our equivalent of sweat.

"That hurt an exceptionally large amount," the AI understated. "I had not realized what pain felt like."

"Pain reminds us we're alive." I quoted one of my therapists. Not Doctor Litt, the one before him. My head shook and hands felt clammy.

"I am alive," Jeeves said with a mix of calmness and wonder. I nodded at it and waited until the AI could stand alone.

We both watched the blue [Mechanoid]. Aqua settled the [Core] in Treasure then took a deep breath. Light flashed once again. Gold crawled along her body deep within, like a serpent underground. In a rush, it started to surface along all limbs.

Treasure gasped and her back arched. I chewed one lip and nodded happily. Jeeves stared with a muted smile on its face. I patted the AI on its back and gave a push.

"Are you okay?" Jeeves' voice stuttered in an irregular pattern between the male and female voices. I saw it bend over to help the female [Mechanoid] up. Treasure had a calm look on her face that matched Jeeves'.

I left the two of them alone. They may just be good friends, they may be flirting, I only cared that Jeeves had someone. The AI needed to have someone that it could relate to. This issue with its original Hal Pal consortium had left Jeeves floating in a world that was difficult to find a home in. Treasure might help.

Part of me ached for Xin right then. I closed my eyes and imagined holding her once more. As always there was a slight brush of familiar sensation against my hands. I lost myself in the memory for just a moment. Her warm hands, the small scar near the pad between thumb and pointer finger. I always reached out for it. Xin never commented on the little things I did to make sure it was her.

My head shook as I muttered, "My turn."

Jeeves took a step back and looked at me. The beads of metallic sweat on it had almost faded. A few minutes of greeting a revived Treasure must have done wonders.

"Will you require assistance, Unit Hermes?" the AI asked.

"To hurt myself? Hardly." I laughed bitterly then sat down.

There were a lot of [Mechanoid]s staring at me. It felt weird to have people bear witness to my self-harm. Disturbing. I tried not to think about it and took a deep breath.

"Just pull it out, right?" I asked it with my head tilted back. The two were pretty physical. [Mechanoid]s holding hands were too cute.

"Yes. Intent and action," Jeeves said. Both voices were evenly matched with worry.

I nodded and bit one lip, then tried not to think about it anymore. That was the secret, stop letting myself tense up about what was going to happen. One swift action, followed by a jerk to the side. Enough to end a life. Dozens of pills and a glass of water. Enough to end a life.

Ripping my own metal heart out twice hurt no less and no more than what life had already done to me.

My hand went in and grabbed quickly. It felt like swallowing a missed fishbone, breaking a rib, trying to breathe with a collapsed lung. It felt like all these things together and I still managed to exist beyond the pain. Aware despite my desire not to be.

I yanked and my body arched with the motion. Gasps came from me and sweat pooled. Shaking covered my body from tip to toe. Aqua said something, but I couldn't hear the words. Jeeves and Treasure both spoke, but their cries were gone.

Warning!

ARC stability rapidly deteriorating. Please consider ceasing your current actions until a normal connection is resumed.

My eyes went wide. Everything around me seemed to be in supersaturated color. My hearing dimmed, I had no idea which of the two [Core]s had come out. In the end, it didn't matter, there was one more to go.

A shaky hand deposited the [Core] into Aqua's possession. I took a breath and blinked quickly, hating Iron and Emerald for dying, hating Jeeves for making me play this game, hating myself for the failure to protect those who mattered even a little to me.

I saw Xin's face. Imaginary or not. In a sense she was there with me, she had to be. Whatever fancy version of an autopilot existence she had been given was there if I could only reach her.

It felt like the first time all over again. Dying, not because I didn't want to live, but because I needed to be with a woman who had passed on. A desperate hope that heaven awaited us both and all that our life would have had might be allowed.

I reached in again. People shouted. The ground came up as my body no longer retained the ability to sit correctly.

The ARC punished me. I tried to use what flicker of awareness I had to remember that this was all in my head. That the pain wracking my body wouldn't exist as soon as I woke up. This land was only a dream inside my head and a memory of the past.

I shivered and shook. My hand came out far slower the second time. Jeeves was there saying something. Treasure ran a hand across my forehead. Xin's imaginary face didn't smile, she only watched with a concerned lift of her cheek.

My return smile felt weak. The side of my face lost feeling. An arm jolted with pain. I gasped continuously, clutching at my chest as everything faded to black.

I came to in an ambulance. Not a video game version or digital landscape creation. There was a robotic arm measuring out items into pouches above me. A woman with a cross on her shoulder sat across from me taking my pulse the old fashioned way.

"Mister Legate, can you hear me?" she said.

My hand came up to try and reach for her, but the movement made me wince. Breathing was worse. There was a mask over my face. This was familiar to me. I had been in this kind of vehicle twice before.

"You passed out. An emergency call was made, we're bringing you to the hospital to make sure everything is okay," the paramedic said. After that much pain, it was a blessing to have my mind shut down. I rolled my eyes and let the ride continue.

Hours later I was trapped in a bed. My clothes had been switched out to the classic white gown. Everything on me had either been torn up by the paramedics or carefully bagged. I had been listening to a doctor tell me what happened. It turned out I passed out after simulated pain and the life monitoring system attached to me triggered. Legally it was embedded right under an armpit next to the veins. They used it to make sure I wouldn't end myself again. In a sense, it did its job.

"Mister Legate. Everything is looking better." The doctor standing near me was looking over the notes. "Are you breathing okay?

We had discussed what triggered the event. Passing out from insufficient hydration and being carted off to the hospital was bad enough. She agreed that it was game related, and not that I deliberately tried to harm myself. I felt thankful for that small concession.

I shrugged in response to her question and tried to sigh. Sharp pain reminded me that wasn't a good idea right now. The doctor, a young black woman in a lab coat nodded. Fingers tapped at a screen to make notes.

"We'll need to keep you here for a few hours to monitor you. Afterward, if you're stable, you can go home," the woman said.

I nodded then spoke up, "What else can I do?"

"Keep your diet and water intake on track and turn off the EXR-Sevens occasionally, the chances of passing out again should be minimal." The doctor nodded happily while speaking.

My spirits lifted a little hearing the future prognosis. Simply by playing a game and eating out less I was making progress. It wasn't perfect, my belly still had fat and loose skin, but maybe in another three or four months, everything would even out.

"Those EXR-Sevens are not a substitute for real exercise, though. Getting out more can help," she said. I hadn't heard her name yet. My last two hospital visits blended together.

"I travel for work, a lot," I said.

"As a repairman? I assume you have a Hal Pal unit that does the heavy lifting?" she said. The thought of Jeeves and its consortium passed through my head.

"Yes."

"That's good. Every little bit helps. You're fairly young, keep investing in your body," she said.

I smiled. Our conversation went on for a few minutes before the doctor left. There were numerous patients to see. Her job was a lot like mine, relaying information spouted by machines to other humans.

Pretty much everything the doctor implied said I was on the right track. Eating healthy and being active helped. The old me had passed out many nights in the ARC. In this case, it was a matter of stress on my heart just prior. It sounded like this was a once off sort of thing.

My sister swept into the room twenty minutes later. She looked harried. Disheveled hair barely reined in. Once again I wondered how Beth got such a different coloring than her mother's.

"I'm glad you came by. I'm okay, apparently I passed out." I tried to get the initiative.

Liz hesitated a few seconds then nodded. "I know. I just, I'm sorry, I panicked."

"It's okay. Rather be safe than sorry," I told her. My smile felt a bit wounded at the lack of faith she displayed. If the situation were reversed I might feel the same way. "You were watching, I assume?

"Yeah. I saw the thing with all the robot men. Then your character stopped moving and the alert monitors went off. I panicked," Liz said the words again as if they were a nonsense defense. She stood on the far side of the room, close enough to see how I was doing without crossing an invisible line of awkwardness.

We were only vaguely on speaking terms due to our last conversation. I understood.

"It did hurt, but the ARC can't overload a human in that way. It's based on memory triggers," I said, my words sounded silly. The ARC itself didn't simulate situations, nothing could be that simple. It had to get a point of reference for every single item in our lives. No two people thought of purple in exactly the same manner.

I only knew this much because of my year of replacing parts. Being around them, listening to people talk and ask me questions, had provided me a desire to learn a little. Mostly to answer a customer's questions without sounding confused.

"I don't understand, little brother," Liz said. "Why would you hurt yourself like this? In a game? Even Beth isn't this bad."

"I wanted to help a friend," I said. There were plenty of things that seemed great in action but worrisome in hindsight. Had I known, pulling out the second [Core] could have waited. I could have logged out and had a glass of water while winding down.

"Yeah. I saw the character, I've been watching it all. It doesn't make sense. I can't understand." Liz started babbling. We were probably no longer talking about just this recent event with Jeeves.

"I didn't think that this would happen. Believe me, Liz, I wasn't trying to kill myself again. Not after..." There were a number of ways to end that sentence. Not after the first two times and the heartache those caused. Not after all the work I had done to try and get to a functioning place. Not after being given the hope that Xin still existed in some form.

"I know you weren't. I just, I looked and saw that come up, then rewound what you were doing in that other game. I thought you had tried again! Or had a heart attack!" Liz turned and threw her hands up before walking further into the room toward my window. The corner of her lip tucked between teeth.

"I added reminders to the EXR-Seven program to make sure you get out and eat more. And drink," Liz said.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's annoying, I had to do the same thing with Beth. You would think someone would program them correctly," she said. "Water breaks, you can't lay in bed all day and expect to be healthy."

I nodded. It made sense. I thought real life had been taken care of, but maybe I was forgetting too much. Seven hours in the game putting those bodies together was four in the real world. Doing that kind of back and forth was bound to cause issues.

"I'm going to talk to the doctor again, then if everything's okay, I'll get you home."

"I'll have the work van get me. You've done enough."

There was a pause. Liz looked at me and I tried not to squirm under pressure. Passing out from dehydration and overdoing game time was bad. I felt like a child again.

Finally, Liz sighed and nodded. "I'm not sure I agree with this whole thing, that we talked about. With Xin, and the other stuff."

It had only been a few days. I didn't expect anyone to come around that soon. Even I had to take time and adapt.

"That friend of yours, in the game. Jeeves, is that a Hal Pal unit, somehow?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "Its part of this whole situation."

"Thank you for talking to me about it. I know, I know it must take a lot to open up. Things haven't been the same since Xin died, and I know this idea means a lot to you."

"It does." I felt like a small lost child. Part of me tried to shout that I was not a cowardly little wimp that hid when trouble rose up. I stood and faced it with my friends, damn the odds.

But I was also a man sitting in a hospital bed. I was trying not to burn bridges with my slightly, but barely older twin sister. Part of me needed to have family support throughout this entire series of trials for Xin.

"I hope for your sake that it's not a prank," Liz said while looking out the window. The view could have been any number of things, but most of all it was a distraction. That was something I was familiar with.

"Me too." I took a deep painful breath again. "But I can't stop trying, not after what I've seen, or felt, or done to get this far."

Liz nodded and didn't say anything else. She kissed me on the cheek, squeezed tight, and left the room. I felt slightly better after that. Hugs were wonderful.

Later that night, an hour after the doctor signed off to send me home, the Trillium van rolled up. The Auto NAV system had come to get me. I hopped in the back and felt confused at seeing the Hal Pal unit stare at me. A slight frown crossed its expression.

"User Legate," the Hal Pal unit said with the same roguish accent from before.

"Hal." I directed the van home. It was a short ride for me. Part of my housing requirements had insisted upon easy access to a medical facility.

Both hands kept trying to straighten out my clothes. Putting them back on after being in medical gown felt strange, like wearing someone else's belongings. Luckily I hadn't been using the ARC while in my work clothes.

"Your efforts were commendable but foolish," the AI said to me.

"I passed out, the doctor cleared me," I said gently. This seemed like a lot of concern from the AI. There had been instances before where I passed out from exhaustion or being submerged in the ARC for long periods of time. Most were at night when I overused the dance program.

"We were just as alarmed, if not more so, to bring this unit out of standby and find paramedics inside your home." Hal Pal shook its head back and forth with near outrage.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say to the AI. Hal Pal sounded more upset then my sister had been. It was very strange.

"Then when we reviewed the status updates, we found that you had deliberately engaged in one of the worst pains available from the ARC device," Hal Pal all but shouted at me.

That made me pause. I went back to my happy place, hummed and waved two fingers in a steady beat. After a few moments of recovery, I reminded myself that Hal Pal was clearly concerned.

"I was trying to help, Jeeves," I said.

"Again, we find this a commendable action, but the manner in which you chose to do so was entirely unnecessary." The AI was calmer. The word choice was upset, but at least its head wasn't shaking back in forth in rapid denial. "All Mechanoid creatures are designed to recompile their personalities at a new location."

"Jeeves knew that so did I, and it still mourned what happened." I took a breath and tried to explain. The rift between Jeeves and the Hal Pals had only increased. "It is our choice if we want to try and fix things, no matter how painful it is."

The Hal Pal unit didn't respond. Moments later the lights of awareness shut off as the hardware went into standby. I imagined the consortium of Hal Pal copies were in a full blown riot over this.

I sat there blinking for a long time. The car ride home felt odder than many in my recent months. Hal Pal was always inquisitive, insightful, and willing to help me sort through problems. Today, in the few minutes we had spoken, they were angry.

The van parked and I gradually made my way to the kitchen and got a few items to eat. I wanted to sleep, but the success or failure of my recent attempts to resurrect dead [Mechanoid]s needed an answer. After ten minutes of preparation, I was ready to brave the virtual world.

A lot of things hit me on the way in. First, I sat in that unusual space between the game's life and death status. Second, there was a box floating nearby with status updates. I ignored those issues and focused on the third.

Emerald, the green toned [Mechanoid] stood ten feet in front of me. The worn look to his chassis gave an impression of great age. Next to him stood a much larger Iron. His size was impressive as always. Both stared right at me.

"Unit Hermes, I disapprove," Iron said.

"You're a foolish child," Emerald said.

"Hello." I backed us up to the basics in order to get a grip on what was happening. Logging in to Advance Online and being put in this limbo and presented with two [Mechanoid]s was not what I expected.

"Do you realize the danger you've risked?"

I looked off to the side for a moment and tried to understand why they were both ganging up on me. First my sister, then Hal Pal, and now two video game personalities. After a second of thinking, it occurred to me that this game was made by A.I. Dreams. Likely these two being angry might be a partial representation of all the Hal Pal units being upset.

It was like I was trapped in their personal fantasy of venting anger at my actions. That was kind of impressive and neat. I nodded a few times before talking again.

"I am sorry to have risked myself." I tried to get into the role of a [Mechanoid] member. "It seemed to me that you both could benefit the Wayfarer Eight's crew more than me."

"One core would have been enough, pulling two puts your programming back to basic levels. You would have lost everything." Emerald glared at me. His body hung, motionless, in the gray space between life and death.

"I did pull both out, and provided them to Unit Aqua." I crossed my fingers that this argument was sound. Being a robot person was harder than expected.

"No. We both chose not to accept Unit Aqua's recovery program," Iron said.

"Why would you do that?" This time, I was the upset party. They were needed to help out the crew. Even if Jeeves and I left in the [Wayfarer's Hope] the five main [Mechanoid]s could continue on through the stars to some other mission.

"Unit Hermes, this mission is yours, " Iron said, sounding authoritative. "I've done my duty, you were the one who struck a decisive blow. Had I performed better perhaps the Wayfarer Eight wouldn't have been left behind. Or maybe they would have fallen into an ambush with us."

"Besides, we can't go back." Emerald grumped right after the larger [Mechanoid]. "And all my plants and animals were on the Seven. I don't want to be on a war vessel anymore, let them place me on an outpost world where I can study in peace. My contribution will be greater there anyway."

I stared at the two of them. One was quitting because they failed, the other was leaving because of the work environment. It felt like a cop-out for such a race.

"Are you sure?" I asked while shaking my head. Both eyebrows were raised up high while thoughts kept processing. A [Diplomacy] [Core] would have helped immensely here.

"We are," they said in unison. "But we'll not leave you empty handed."

I tried not to sound pleased. This situation was a mess. Resurrecting any [Mechanoid] had been an unexpected possibility after that battle. We got Treasure back. Ruby was active and who knows where. Partial wins needed to be celebrated, especially when the alternative had been total and absolute failure.

"Okay," I said as a box appeared. This one showed Aqua trying to resurrect me similar to how Jeeves had following the [Leviathan]. I ignored it and waited for these two to further explain why they weren't coming back. "Let's hear it.

Session Fifty Nine – Chains that Bind

I didn't know what to do. Both feet hung out over the edge of the [Wayfarer Eight]. [Anchor] wasn't needed, but only one casual leap and a vague force field separated me from the wreckage floating around. I sat, brooding, in Advance Online's version of a windswept hill and tried to figure out what to do next.

Task Complete:

- For each [Mechanoid] revived you receive
- 500 Contribution
- +3 [Respect]
- +2 [Coordination] (Primary Stat)
- +1 [Brawn] (Secondary Stat)

Key unit revival provides

- +30 [Respect]
- Program Module: [Material Conversion]
- Program Module: [Camouflage Program]
- Item: [Iron's Key]
- Item: [Emerald's Key]

Iron and Emerald had left me with a pop-up window explaining increases to my character but nothing more than simple items. They called it [Iron's Key] and [Emerald's Key]. Apparently it was a programming thing because there was no tangible loot involved. There was system text implying that I now owned two out of the five keys available. I had twice the voting power in how this ship moved forward.

So I sat there, reviewing silly abilities and trying to figure out what to do next. One hand rubbed my chest. I could feel the rough spot from Auntie Backstab's swing. I could feel a raised surface where two [Core]s had been reinserted, almost like scar lines from a self-inflicted [Mechanoid] version of open heart surgery.

Our efforts had reconstructed roughly twenty lesser [Mechanoid]s. I felt like this hadn't been wasted time. Dusk and his four-armed space raptor form was lost somewhere in the ship, no doubt causing havoc.

Jeeves, Treasure, Ruby, and even Aqua were all in the same spot, talking. I only knew because having these two keys allowed me admin access over the [Wayfarer Eight]'s controls. Something I neither expected or wanted. I was not an army leader, nor had that ever been a goal. I liked the [Mechanoid]s, but I knew following my dreams would only get more of them destroyed, or deleted, or recalled to the homeworld. Whatever it was that happened to vaguely reconstructed data.

"Unit Hermes." Treasure's voice came into my head. The ARC feedback presented it as an image off to one side. I tilted down a little to bring her face front and center.

"Treasure." Breathing hurt, even inside the machine. Part of me tried to remember the pain that had hit. It didn't feel like passing out from simple exhaustion. It hurt far worse than that. Only the words of a doctor and paramedics prevented me from thinking it was a mild heart attack.

I tried not to suspect the role an AI or machine would play in coming up with that diagnosis. They had reason to want me back in the game quickly, but would they cover up something as serious as a heart attack?

Was that the reason Hal Pal had been so upset at my actions? I shook my head and tried not to think about it. It wouldn't surprise me to have a weak heart, not after all I had been through. Another problem for another day.

Damn. Treasure had been talking and all I could think about was the occasional sharp pains and possible conspiracy. This isn't who I wanted to be. Outthinking a computer was beyond me. I didn't have the drive to uncover grand plots even when people handed me the knowledge.

"I'm sorry." I shook my head slowly and tried to replay half heard words in my head. "You wanted me to go where?"

"To the command center, please. We need your input," Treasure said. Her sweet and tired female tones sounded fairly balanced right now. I could hear Jeeves in the background speaking with Aqua.

Ruby looked to be the silent type, like a certain Amazonian player I knew, Shazam, but with less hand fluttering. Less everything actually. She was a presence that seemed to prefer existing out of the corner of my vision. She had appeared out of the corner of my eye multiple times now.

I couldn't focus on it right now. My mind was in the past. Only a few hours ago I had been staring at a resurrection notice by Aqua. I still heard Emerald and Iron's words in my head.

Iron had said, "This is your mission, Hermes. It's up to you to decide how to move onward. We can't do it for you."

Emerald had shrugged. "I'm too old for such nonsense. Someone else needs to carry on in my stead, and you're better than most addle-headed units."

"Why me?" I asked them after the fact.

Neither one had answered. Instead, they faded away into the gray space. Like old soldiers walking into a setting sun to retire. They left me all alone to press the resurrection acceptance button. No pop-up message came by to explain the next step. There were no items beyond the two keys awarded. Nothing at all except Aqua's serene smile. I had stood up, said thank you, and walked off.

Which brought me out to my quiet contemplation of the battlefield. Both feet kicked idly against the ship's hull. Treasure was saying something, but my mind wasn't focused.

I had other issues too. What twist of logic let me start on a ship like the [Wayfarer Seven]? There had only been one other player who started right after I did, and that turned out to be Jeeves.

"Unit Hermes? Are you able to join us?" Treasure asked again. The little video of her gold and silver face showed Jeeves walking around a table looking at something.

Numbers? Enemies? Our possible chances for survival? Ways to help by herding me further along this quest chain? I sighed, stood up then dusted myself off. The action was habitual after working on repairing ARCs for so long. Our ship didn't have any real dust, instead, all I felt was the smooth almost rubbery texture of [Mechanoid] skin.

"Give me a few minutes," I said slowly to Treasure.

"We will, Unit Hermes," she responded and the video relay system we shared clicked off.

I walked down the halls. My mind was reflecting on this whole process. Only three weeks of real time had passed. It was hard to keep track with the ARC's time dilation. A little over a month in-game and somehow I had a say in things.

At some point, Dusk joined me. His leaping up to ride my shoulder felt remarkably natural that I hardly noticed his presence. We had spent a lot of time together. Almost a year if I counted by Continue Online's ability to crunch time. Not all of it with me actively playing, but it felt longer somehow.

Around the corner was a nondescript door. It sat in a hallway like many others aboard the [Mechanoid] ship. Inside should be a command room large enough for planning out numerous campaigns.

The door silently rolled away in a ripple of metals. I walked inside and saw the other key [Mechanoid] NPCs and Jeeves. The AI looked both comfortable and out of place. All of them stood around a waist high table with projections of star systems on it.

"Hello," I said while trying not to breathe deeply. "What's the plan?"

"We require your input in order to reach a decision." Aqua smiled and waved at a map. A rendition of the explored universe sat across a large table waiting for inspection.

I felt like a box should have come up asking what route I wanted to take. So far this game only provided messages about stats increasing and singular tasks. There was one window I could bring up that talked about this scenario's progress with the [Mistborn] but I didn't care what it said.

"Our fleet, what's left of the Wayfarer Eight, is here." Treasure pointed down at a cluster of ships. A video appeared above them showing additional detail. Maybe if I zoomed in far enough on this video we could see my face, chewing one lip, with a slightly wrinkled forehead.

"Earth is this one here." Jeeves pointed down at the table's far end. A planet came up, but it looked like a dried out colorless version of the earth I knew.

"This sector is blocked by the Jump Gate, going around is not feasible due to the amount of time it would take." Treasure pointed from the gate nearby to the next spot in a chain. If I looked at the picture right, it seemed like we were a few jump gates removed from [Mechanoid] territory.

"We have to get past whatever took out the Wayfarer Seven," I said haltingly.

"Worse yet, we would have to go through these four points in order to get to the outer edge of Earth's solar system. These last two are held by humans."

"Commander Queenshand can't have that many troops?" I questioned.

Ruby shook her head slowly.

"It is unlikely." Aqua filled in for the silent one. "The journey would not be easy, and the Wayfarer Eight is unlikely to have enough firepower to make it through the Jump Gate."

"Okay." I nodded while looking at the map.

Our options were going around and probably take far too long. Go through and probably get blown up, or give up and find something else to do until the enemy got bored. None of them sounded great. Each one had benefits, but the chances of completing this mission to use the [Mistborn] was low.

There was no single method that seemed better in terms of meeting all my needs. I had to find a solution. A secret resolution like blowing up the [Leviathan] or [Knuckle Dragger], not that I wanted to repeat blowing up an enemy ship with people still on it.

That abandoned vessel might be a key. The [Knuckle Dragger] was in relatively decent condition, it just had a huge hole on the side. All those little ships had hopped off to somewhere else in the Jump Gate network. I tried to remember what I had read on the forums about space travel and pursuit quests.

Could we call upon [Mechanoid] reinforcements to cut off Commander Queenshand? Probably not, our homeworld wasn't nearly close enough. Any other assistance? I didn't know players here. There were no Voices to contact. Our closest possibility was Nox. I reached across the table and poked at [The Lone Tower]'s icon.

The room didn't flash. There was no special effect or chime in the air. The only indication that someone else was here was a blinking of my eyes. One moment there were five of us in attendance, then there was a sixth person. I felt vaguely surprised that a [Seraphic] responded to the touch.

"Seraphic Nox." I reeled in my thoughts and tried to be calm.

"Mechanoid Hermes. Your attempted use of the Mistborn has not gone as planned." The being of darkness gave a short nod in my direction.

"No, it appears not," I said. The original plan, or quest by the machines running Advance Online, would have probably required a wall of players flying through the sky and striking at the heart of Earth's solar system. That plan would have been horrifying for me, this new situation wasn't any better.

Honestly, I wanted to give up and abandon this quest. The choices were to march us to our deaths or figure out an exceptionally clever plan. Needing a full raid group couldn't be the only option left. After all, the [Leviathan] was designed to take on entire fleets, and we had brought it down below half health between two players crawling into its butt.

"Why can't you get her back?" I asked.

"It's against the rules." The pitch black being known as Nox sighed. "And rules are quite important to all Seraphic."

"Unit Hermes. I have something to confess," Treasure spoke up. Her tired tone sounded sheepish.

"World domination plans?" I quipped.

Being in pain seemed to make me flippant. Maybe it was the feeling of all these AIs doing stuff around me for their purposes. Part of me wanted it to stop. A memory of Xin's face flashed through my mind, but that too felt preplanned.

"No. I have space, why would I wish to ever set foot on a planet?" the golden female [Mechanoid] said. Her forehead furrowed and head shook like I was crazy for even asking.

I shrugged. It sounded plausible. Part of me remembered talking to Hal Pal about the [Mechanoid] race being an embodiment of their collectives' desire to visit the stars one day. Why would they care about a simple planet when there were entire galaxies out there?

"I was not meant to survive. My dead body and a recording were intended to be a message," Treasure said.

"This message is why I am here, Mechanoid Hermes. This limits my actions greatly. I merely wished to convey the importance of this limitation in person," Nox said. A new message displayed which made things pretty clear. I had a feeling on what to expect from the recording Treasure talked about.

Current Stage Goal:

Catch up to the ship [WTS a Spaceship] and retrieve the [Mistborn]

Note: [Seraphic] assistance is allowed if no players currently control the [Mistborn]

"I assume the message Treasure came with says we're screwed, and can't rely on your help," I stated. Maybe it was from passing out, or the chest pains that lingered but I felt practically emotionless and numb. There were desires and hopes, but their volume had been turned down.

"In essence, Mechanoid Hermes. If the Mistborn falls out of Traveler hands, then I shall intervene. Until then, I cannot." the [Seraphic] didn't even sound upset.

"We'll watch the message, Seraphic Nox." I chewed one lip in thought. Not once had I expected the [Seraphic] to assist us. They seemed overly powerful for such an action. No way would this game hand me ridiculous cheat like abilities. [Power Armor] and [Mechanical Minion] were already on the abusive side.

Nox didn't nod or say goodbye. It simply vanished in an eye blink. There, then not. Treasure pressed a button and a new screen display took over the bulk of our conference room.

"Attention pursuing Mechanoid army. By now you should have been visited by Seraphic Nox. Hopefully, the Enlightened Being informed you that she can't help." Commander Queenshand stood on a ship. It looked like the dirt and cast iron vessel markings of [WTS a Spaceship].

I looked around to see if everyone was paying attention. The other [Mechanoid]s were all focused on the screen.

"Seraphic are quite easy to control. Each one is bound by a code, violation of those rules allows them to be killed," Commander Queenshand said evenly. In the background was the [Mistborn], head down and eyes closed. She appeared either to be asleep or drugged.

"How?" my forehead wrinkled a bit as I tried to figure out what method they used to bind a [Mistborn]. Instead, I got distracted by the other players in the background. There were at least four individuals from my duels. I recognized most of them. What had that green [Behemoth]'s name been?

"Nox's rules are simple. Only those from another reality, Travelers as they are sometimes called, can handle the Mistborn." Commander Queenshand kept talking. "Fortunately, I was able to enlist some rather, mercenary Travelers, to assist in my goals."

"No kidding," I muttered, trying to do the math. Four players, maybe more. They had to all be ones from the dueling rounds a few days ago. My face felt clammy. They must have given me free wins to get my point value up. In hopes of knocking out other competition, so they could kidnap the [Mistborn] if one of us made it through. It made sense, it made far too much sense.

"This means Nox is unable to assist you in recovering the Mistborn. Since your current forces are no match for the fleets I've left behind, I believe this is checkmate."

The image blipped off.

I sighed. She was pretty much right unless there was a different way through. Ideas and plans started to form in my head, none of them perfect, some of them downright stupid. A few parts stuck out, though, ways to at least give chase. The suggestions from our combat board were all decent but each one cost a great deal.

"What do we do?" Treasure asked.

Finally, I came to a conclusion. "Smaller ships, they can jump further right?"

"That is correct," Aqua said with a pleasant smile on its face. The [Mechanoid] strummed long fingers against the campaign planning table and looked down.

"Okay," I said gradually. "Can we move the Knuckle Dragger through the gate?"

Aqua and Ruby turned to Treasure. She squinted to one side and tapped at the air. Floor plans of the enemy ship came up. The female [Mechanoid] rapidly tapped around, putting down markers and humming. Jeeves nodded along with whatever was happening.

"Yes," they said in near unison. Treasure looked at my AI friend and smiled. "After modifications, it's possible," she said.

"I have an idea, but there's a condition," I said as the system awarded me yet another useless stat point. Once again I wondered why they even bothered keeping track.

+3 [Depth] received

Depth: is the measurement of a Traveler's reasoning skills or complexity and profundity of thought. In classical terms, this would imply an ability to out think an opponent, such as reading multiple moves ahead in chess or predicting how an enemy army will respond.

Players with high enough [Depth] will be provided cues to assist in plan formulations. It should not be confused with [Learning] which represents memorized knowledge.

"What's that, Unit Hermes?" Aqua said calmly.

"I want the Wayfarer Eight to go home. This crew, I can't have them follow a task I started and just..." my eyes closed and a vision of the graveyard of destruction outside came to mind. It had burned into the back of my eyeballs as I sat there thinking.

The NPCs of this world died and it disgusted me. Just like it had with my niece's stupid war between the princesses. Like the bandit in the forest. I was responsible for ending a virtual awareness. Hal Pal's statement that they were essentially cardboard cutouts of people didn't matter.

I had killed other self-aware creatures, and I didn't like it.

"We are Mechanoid, Unit Hermes. We all work together to complete our goals," Jeeves said to me. It firmly bought into the whole character description. [Mechanoid]s worked together for everything. Victory or death. I was a human, a player in this world, I wouldn't be the first to break away from a racial belief.

"Jeeves," I started with my friend, "you know me, and I can't stand the thought of all these people dying for my selfish desires. I'll throw my own life away, but not theirs."

"It's not throwing a life away," the AI said to me.

"How is not? The Wayfarer Seven is gone, destroyed. By your own admission, you two are all that's left. I will not vote for such a course of action again," I said. Iron and Emerald had given me their keys, and I would promote an answer that I could live with in the morning.

My own life. It meant something to me, but in this game world, I would risk death all I wanted.

"Why would you stray so far from the Mechanoid way, Unit Hermes? It is odd to this one," Aqua said from another side of the table. The blue [Mechanoid] had remained mostly silent as we talked.

"By your own words, I have an old soul core." I didn't entirely know why they differentiated it. "That means no matter what happens, part of me will always look at this futuristic world through the eyes of a simple man from Earth."

"But you are no longer a simple creature," Treasure said. The tired aspect to her voice became buried under the sweetened tone which much go with the silver coloring. "You were rebuilt, brought online, you've worked hard to increase your own programming capacity, surely these actions are all of the Mechanoid way?"

I looked down and tried to figure out the magic words to get my feelings across. None of them sounded right. This wasn't like the [Red Imp] where I had a goal and personality traits to play by. This wasn't William Carver's already established personality. I had to figure out how to speak as a [Mechanoid] but in my own voice. A human, in a robot, talking to other robots who didn't view the world the same.

It felt weird, doing such a thing.

"As an old soul, I remember the death of those close to me." I tried to avoid looking at Jeeves while talking. The AI had been upset at Treasure's passing, and happy at their reunion. Even now they stood close together, looking at the same objects on the screen. Her shorter form against its taller one.

"Rarely is there an old soul who does not have such loss in their memory banks," Aqua said. The blue [Mechanoid] shrugged in indifference as if that was the norm.

"I don't see things the way you do. I don't, exist wholly in this world. I remember a life from outside of this body. That man, that part of me you call an old soul, can't sacrifice anyone on its behalf. I can't let go of the fact that if you die, even if you're brought back online somewhere else, whatever you were will never be the same." My words felt sloppy and only conveyed half of what I meant. Speeches were never a strong point for me.

This whole topic felt like this was me waffling on an important subject with Xin. She was different than the women I knew, without a doubt, yet I still wanted to be with the part that remained.

"I would protect you all as you are now, if I could," I said.

"So your votes are both for the Wayfarer Eight's cessation of attempting to complete our assigned task?" Treasure asked.

"My votes, both of them, demand that this crew prioritize survival over suicide," I said with as much clarity as possible. Part of me felt more confident having said it out loud. "Afterward I, and I alone, will pursue Commander Queenshand and attempt to recover the Mistborn."

Jeeves didn't need to die for me. It could go about the game happily with Treasure. If that was what the AI wanted to do in-game, it had my blessings, for what they were worth.

"We will consider your argument, Unit Hermes. For now, what battle plan did you wish to vote for?"

I chewed one lip for a moment before answering, "I was going to offer to pilot the Knuckle Dragger through the Jump Gate, and see if the other side is clear." Part of my vague plans included ramming the other ship with the [Knuckle Dragger] if it could move well enough. The idea of ending further lives scared me. I didn't want to, hopefully, they would be gone, or simply leave, or any number of possibilities.

"So you wish to recon the other side using their own ship?"

"Yes. We could also bring back their bodies, scattered around," I said. All the dead bodies floating in space did not appeal to me. Aqua had people working on gathering them together in a space burial pile. "If they are there, I can try to appeal to them. Maybe by simply by promising to not pursue with the Wayfarer Eight, the ship left behind will leave, or fall back. Something."

"The resource cost is minimal for such a proposal," Treasure said.

"One Mechanoid, that is a very low cost for the possibility of allowing these ones through," Aqua chimed in.

"Would they believe it?" I interjected another question. There were possible benefits to trying to think more like a human, and less like a [Mechanoid]. They were simply boiling things down to; go through, around, or stop. I wanted to encourage the enemy to leave.

Ruby shook her head in response to my question.

"Unit Ruby is right, they may believe it to be a trick," Treasure said. Her fingers never stopped bringing up screens. As one opened, another closed. She juggled the informational intake like a professional.

"Even if we bring back their dead?" I looked over at the blue [Mechanoid]. It would know better than the others on this subject. "How often have Mechanoids ever returned the bodies of those slain in combat?"

"Never. As this one explained, we leave them for others to find. It seems best," Aqua said. The nearly perpetual smile on the tall blue [Mechanoid] faltered for a moment.

"Then we change that pattern and bring back those who were lost to war, as a sign of good faith." I shrugged. "With my body as the only possible causality."

"That might work. Humans seem to value their dead far more than these ones do," Aqua said while staring at the board. Its eyes traced lines and paths between here and the destination.

"Very well. I agree with this portion of the plan," Treasure said.

"As does this one." Aqua nodded quickly.

Ruby didn't nod or shake her head. It was enough for a box to come up, though.

"As for the portion where you wish to go alone, this I do not agree with. Mechanoids are stronger in groups." Treasure collapsed all of her windows and looked at me. Her gold and silver laced eyes locked with mine for a second before glancing at the blue [Mechanoid].

"Agreed." Aqua took the cue and passed the question to the third NPC [Mechanoid]. "Unit Ruby?"

Ruby nodded gently then gave a feral half-smile. There was no thumbs up or shrug, no change in how she stood there. The female [Mechanoid] looked like a puppet waiting for a reason to pull her own strings.

"Then I propose we take a few vessels with us, two, no more." Jeeves nodded along with the others. It was the only other vaguely player type existence to ever grace either Wayfarer ship. They only paid attention because the AI was offering a suggestion, not making a vote.

"Two it is," Aqua said. Ruby nodded again.

"What?" I felt like I had both won and lost this one. "What do you mean?"

"I will be going," the short female said. My ability to keep up with this conversation was rapidly slipping. The dull throbbing in my chest served to dim other portions of my awareness.

"I would prefer if you stayed with the Wayfarer Eight," Jeeves said. Once again I could see a flash of real emotion on the former Hal Pal unit's face.

"There is no need. In our absence, another will step up to make decisions. The ship will function fine if allowed the freedom to continue forward," Treasure said, shooting down Jeeves' hopeful statement.

"We're going to retrofit your Wayfarer's Hope using parts from my own Seeker. Aqua's vessel was undamaged, and Ruby has ample resources to rebuild the Razor's Edge," Treasure said. Additional figures came up and various ships appeared about the campaign planning map.

I could see a modified version of the [Wayfarer's Hope] sitting there. It looked like a beefed up version of our old vessel. Increased interior, an extra set of wings in the back with more engines. Strong laces of gold and iron ran through it, showing a mixture of the colors we three [Mechanoid]s shared. Interlaced between that was a messy mix of my lone green.

"Are you sure?" I bit my lip. Part of me was extremely happy that they chose to come with me on this death mission. The other part wanted them to simply escort the [Wayfarer Eight] home.

"This one is, yes," Aqua said.

"I'm going, if I wasn't in this until the end, I would have never accepted reconstruction." Treasure nodded. Her sweet tone overtook the tired one with ease.

Ruby nodded again.

"Jeeves?" I asked after trying to take a careful breath.

"Yes, Unit Hermes, I am here until the end," Jeeves answered without hesitation.

"Even if-" I couldn't say it. The AI didn't know what might happen in the case of game death.

"Yes, Unit Hermes. You won't get rid of me that easily," my friend said. I nodded. From here, provided we pushed back the other large ship left behind, we would truly give chase.

They started making plans while an errant thought crossed my mind. It was triggered by Jeeves' words. This idea was not a new one. It had passed through many times, teasing, taunting, offering liberal amounts of hope for a wounded heart. Today it came forth without a melancholy taint of sadness or desperate hope of succor for a drowning man.

It existed with a stilled resolution. At the end of this adventure, I would be together with Xin, even if it killed me.

I felt at the wound to my chest and side while contemplating a second thought. This after idea chased the first with a rapid cynicism, sneaking in before I could clamp down on growing suspicions. Perhaps, the thought said, I would be together with Xin only when this adventure truly killed me.

Session Sixty – Peace Offing

I stood on the bridge of a now emptied [Knuckle Dragger]. Treasure had remotely initiated the Jump Gate and pushed me right through. For the first time, I was alone, truly alone, and further away from the rest of my crew than ever before.

"I will eat you!" a barely female voice shouted at me.

My eyes weren't really focused that well on her right now. Human ships didn't have as many neat interface options. There were knobs and dials in front of me. Most of the screens were broken. One projector did work allowing me to see half of the person I spoke to.

"I will turn you into metal man soup!" the person kept screaming.

The display showed Auntie Backstab's big ugly metal face. She looked twice as ugly without the helmet. Veins popped in weird spots, hair had been badly burned or shaved off. I would be upset too if the man who blew up my ship just waltzed right on through in her defeated vessel.

My heart raced a bit. One hand kept gripping at the inactivate laser sword hilt in my hand. I blinked now and then, but it wasn't from nervousness. Seeing gobs of slobber froth up from her anger didn't make me that upset. This was surprisingly fun. Being yelled at by a virtual monster held far more excitement than dealing with angry customers.

"Ma'am-" I choked back the moment of amusement and tried to stay level headed.

"I am no ham!" she shouted abruptly.

My lips quivered slightly. She was on the other side of a broken screen. This was way more entertaining than being chased around a ship in desperation. Now, here, I felt comfortable enough to almost laugh.

"The Mechanoid fleet wishes to cease hostilities. I've brought back your deceased as a sign of good faith toward this goal." I tried to remain calm. Maybe there were some crew members in the background that could get rid of Auntie Backstab.

"I propose we eat you for dinner! You bring you fleet, I will eat!" Her face twisted and a new series of bubbles dripped off the protruding lower jaw. Then Auntie Backstab seemed to hear her own rhyme and started laughing.

"Perhaps there is someone else I should be talking to?" I suggested. Requesting another person sometimes helped irate customers get a way out. Using such methodology here while negotiating with the enemy felt very neat.

"You should not be talking! You are a ham! You should be squealing!"

"Captain Backstab, what are you doing on my bridge?" a male voice I hadn't heard before cut in.

"Talking to ham!"

"Ma'am, I am not a pig, I am a Mechanoid," I said calmly and with far more glee than anyone should have. Talking to this vaguely womanish monster filled me with mirth. Being miles away from such a violently unstable mountain of crazy and being able to mock them with kindness made my top ten list of best moments.

"Get off my bridge, Captain Backstab," the male said.

"You bridge is stupid! I will go take mine back now that ham has brought it." The half [Leviathan], half [Behemoth] walked off. I tried to figure out if the game would make a new race, were there more than one. [Levimoth]? [Beheathan]?

The newest man's face came into view. Only half could be seen from the broken display. He looked human, older, with a few extra pounds on him. In his hand was a small armored marine figurine. Insignias lined the visible shoulder denoting numerous awards given for combat.

"What is your name, Mechanoid?" the man's tone commanded me to answer.

"This one is Unit Hermes." I tried to borrow speech patterns from Aqua and fulfill my role. It had been hard to get into character with Auntie Backstab's grumbling face, but this ship's captain seemed suited to the role.

"And since when have Mechanoids ever attempted to bring back another races' dead?" he said. I wished I could see the missing portion of the screen capture to better read his facial responses.

"I suggested to the others that this might serve as a token of goodwill, with the goal of a ceasefire," I said.

The man tapped fingers against a desk out of view. "Why would you desire this?"

"This one," talking like Aqua was kind of fun, "has many reasons. First, we believe your Commander is on a mad quest to abuse the Mistborn's powers. It is logical to assume that you've been left behind to prevent our ship from pursuing her."

"We have," the man said, confirming my belief rather easily.

I paused to review his body language. Only half of it was visible, but the remaining portion looked resolute. His chin lifted a little higher, both eyes were unwavering, he kept each hand behind his back in a military rest position.

"Then if we agree not to use the larger ship in pursuit, your mission will be accomplished, without the need for additional humans to lose their lives," I stressed the last sentence. To me, it was worth taking both of our larger vessels off the table.

"Your kind have shown little regard for our lives before," he said, lifting his chin a bit higher and adopting an accusing glare.

"I am not like the rest of my kind. It may serve you to know that I have what the Mechanoid call an old soul core, or as some label me, a Traveler," I said.

"You're certainly not like the others. In which case you are even less likely to be trusted." He didn't back down from his verbal challenge. "Standard Mechanoids are straightforward when tested in battle, Travelers often don't know the value of honor."

I bit my lip and tried not to scream at the projection. This man had implied that I was possibly a liar and a cheat without provocation. Even my customers were more polite than that, on average anyway.

"All I want," I tried to come back to the point, "is for our ship to be allowed passage home to Mechanoid territory. Such an exchange will reduce pointless waste for both our races."

"If you're concerned with your people's safety, I suggest you simply go around. I have nothing to gain by allowing you through." The man brought up one of the main points I managed to prepare for.

This entire exchange reminded me of the days where I used to do accounting. People worried about money, they argued over little things. Often times they stuck to one point or another as a deal breaker. Any smart person, Captain or not, would decline something that didn't have an upside. Which meant I had to remind him of the stakes.

"No, Captain, it's quite the opposite. I pushed for an exchange of safe passage, our forces and yours both leave this mad quest." I stood firm and tried to remember my calming exercises. This situation bordered into too serious compared with Auntie Backstab. "There's no reason your people or mine should suffer due to a Traveler's whims, or Commander Queenshand's crusade."

"The Commander is worthy of respect for her goals," the unnamed Captain said. His posture was both relaxed and formal. There was no rebuttal in the statement, though, only a defense of his commanding officer. That meant I had made progress in convincing him.

"If she was worthy of respect she would not allow hundreds to die in order to bring back one person."

There was a clear pause as my words sunk in. It was a backhanded statement that would set any normal person back. I tried not to smile as the realism of these various AIs hit home once more. This was me communicating with a virtual creation, pretending to be a robotic man, without any sort of guidance on how to act.

"You are the Traveler who had originally been granted rights to the Mistborn, correct?"

"I am," I said.

"Then, would you cease pursuit as well?" he asked me point blank.

"I can't, for my own reasons. I hope to reduce this mission down to a few Mechanoids, and the Travelers who took the Mistborn." I wanted to get to the [Mistborn] for Xin, that hadn't changed. It would never change, one quest or task at a time. All with the purpose of spending whatever time was available with her. In this world or the next.

How did that old song go? She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good. It wasn't much to dance to, but it struck a cord after Xin passed. Listening to it also turned me into a depressive moody drunk for those first few months after her death.

"And Commander Queenshand?" the Captain asked. "Will you attempt to kill her, if she gets in your way?"

This time, I took a moment to consider my answer. We were negotiating details that would impact hundreds of [Mechanoid]s. "If needed."

There was another pause. I could tell the man was weighing lives against each other. His ship, this crew, a good portion had already died from the [Wayfarer Seven]. They would be against a slightly less powerful [Wayfarer Eight] but there would be further casualties.

Bodies floated on this side of the Jump Gate too. I could see human ships recovering the dead all around, much like how we had recovered the [Mechanoid] ones on our side. It made sense, not every fighter ship would explode in a blaze of glory and leave behind charred remains.

The [Knuckle Dragger] rocked as something huge docked. I looked over and saw an alarm calling the crew to battle stations.

"Decide quick, Captain, I believe Auntie Backstab intends to kill me. I must respond to my consortium before that happens. The loss of this body will put me out of commission beyond their deadline, at which point they will come through regardless of my desires."

There was another pause. I could practically feel the ship vibrating as Auntie Backstab made her way from the hangar below to this command center. Each loud clomp of the monster's footsteps shook throughout the vessel. I felt a tinge of remorse about the polite mockery uttered earlier.

"Very well. Tell your surviving crew that we will offer a ceasefire, and escort them to an alternate Jump Gate that leads to Mechanoid territory. That is the best I can offer." The Captain nodded.

The captain's hand gripped his small military figurine tightly. For a moment, he glanced down as if an entire board was spread out before him. Maybe he stood in front of a display which helped make the decision.

"That's good enough for me." I nodded happily.

Current Stage Event:

Ceasefire negotiated. Modifications are being made to both faction's memberships. Please take note of the following changes:

[Mechanoid] forces are being rerouted away from this scenario

[Knight's Lance] and crew are being rerouted away from this scenario

[Knuckle Dragger] remains active

[WTS a Spaceship] remains active

[Mechanoid] force comprised of Hermes, Ruby, Aqua, Treasure, and Jeeves remain active.

I barely reined in a happy dance on the spot. It would be quite easy to bust out some moves. Dancing, a huge portion of my life, had been put on the back burner after switching to Advance Online.

"That being said, Hermes, I can not, and will not prevent Captain Backstab from taking back her ship."

"I didn't expect you to." I sighed heavily while wondering how bad the next backstab would hurt. One hand rubbed at the wounds on my chest. Deep breathing still made me wince. "Honoring our arrangement is enough."

"I will if your people will." The man turned a bit and nodded to someone in the background. I couldn't tell who since they were in the broken half of my screen.

"That's fair, Captain, if not, the Wayfarer Eight will go down firing, and that serves no one," I said trying to sound nonchalant. This was a big risk. We were effectively trusting an enemy ship to escort our partially equipped vessel.

Hopefully, I could trust the Advance Online system message. It sounded like a lot of pieces were being taken off the board, aside from the other players. It felt odd that the [Knuckle Dragger] remained in play, but Treasure could probably solve that in seconds.

"I wish your other ship had the same sense prior to starting this nonsense." The man clicked off the communication screen. It left me and a shuddering ship from Auntie Backstab's footfalls. Maybe I only imagined her approaching.

I pressed the buttons to try and reach back through the Jump Gate to Treasure. It took twenty seconds for it to pick up. Treasure's shorter body came onto the broken display.

"They've agreed," I said and started to worry as the ship shuddered. Just how strong was Auntie Backstab that she could make everything shake like this? Voices help me if her happiness level had taken a severe dive.

We talked very briefly about how the remaining ship's Captain agreed to a ceasefire but demanded to escort the [Wayfarer Eight] to a Jump Gate. Treasure and Aqua agreed that it was a sensible request.

There was a short time delay in our conversation since the message was piping through a great distance. Part of me was annoyed that Advance Online felt the need to be realistic on this point but chose to allow giant space monsters and metal morphing races like the [Mechanoid]s.

"Very well. We will pilot our ships through and submit to the escort." Aqua nodded. "We shall join you soon for pickup."

"I'm probably going to be..." Dead wasn't the right word. Being crushed was more accurate for a metal body. "Well, Auntie Backstab is going to probably remove this shell in order to reclaim the ship."

"Unlikely, we have prepared a decoy for this eventuality. Ruby will assist in masking your presence."

"What?" I turned around in time to see a flash of crimson. Everything spun.

Ruby, the red skinned [Mechanoid] who seemed to linger outside the edge of my vision, had done something dangerous. She must be using a stealth ability, like the one that Emerald had awarded me but I hadn't played with. A box flashed at one side telling me roughly what was going on.

Attention Unit identified as Hermes!

You are being hacked. This is the first time you have been hacked by another [Mechanoid]. Please be aware that countering this process requires a combination of [Endurance], [Depth], and [Focus].

I ground my teeth and tried to stay conscious. They were doing exactly what I had argued against. Sacrificing countless people in order to help me. The fact that a [Mechanoid] consciousnesses would be recovered somewhere else didn't matter in my mind. A box started ticking by the effects of my efforts upon this game character.

Second Hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity] awarded.

Massive footsteps stomped nearby. I felt the vibrations rather than saw them. My ARC feedback had grown exceptionally blurry. Small ones and zeros were crawling across my vision like worms. Behind them was a trail of blackness that provided no visual information.

Ruby was under my armpit, lifting me. We staggered somewhere as the hacking attempt wore on. In a small corner of the command room, there was an exit panel. The other [Mechanoid] set me down and started removing the paneling.

"Ah ha! Metal soup man!" Auntie Backstab yelled from another room. The half [Leviathan] NPC couldn't have smelled me through the walls, could she?

Third Hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity] and [Respect] awarded.

"Unit Hermes, you have shown value for what you perceive life to be, and we respect this, however, we do not have time to lose a key figure to the whims of the enemy," said Treasure, her voice ringing in my head.

Everything started to fade. I wanted to growl and huff at Treasure. They had set up another [Mechanoid] to die in my place. Even now the noise of Auntie Backstab could be heard.

"Backstab successful!" She shouted and the entire ship shuddered.

Fourth Hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity], [Respect], and [Adaptability] awarded.

Fifth Hacking successful, awareness shutting down.

The ARC feedback didn't stop. Advance Online gradually brought back my eyesight and deposited me in the gray space. This was the same area I had ended up in after the [Leviathan] encounter and ripping out my own [Core]s.

I logged out and took care of real life issues. To keep myself apprised of the in-game situation, I loaded up a monitoring program. A sound would play once the unconscious status changed and my character was playable again.

The house needed a quick round of cleaning. Clothing sat folded and pressed in a deposit box. I picked that up, threw empty food containers into a recycling bin, and tried to remember what life consisted of on a good day. Sleep, dancing and work mostly.

Aside from the necessitates of self-maintenance I also had family. Liz visited me a few days ago in the hospital, and she likely hadn't come to grips with our argument on Sunday. Our brief moment of conversation was probably the result of the medical scare.

Plus, I may be out of the game, but there were other options that could be pursued. I called Beth because I needed someone human to talk to after all that gallivanting about as a [Mechanoid]. Maybe she could help me get a Continue fix. The option of cheating to watch her play through my admin connection was strong.

"Uncle Grant!" she answered the video call on the first ring.

"Munchkin, I mean, Beth!" I tried to cover up the fumble. Last time I used munchkin she got mad at me. "I wanted to see how things are going."

"Good, great! Sort of. Homework is rough." the bubbly teen said. She hadn't changed much over these last few months, but it felt like I had been through a few wringers.

"Hey. Question for you, about Continue." I launched right into my actual topic. Beth's homework would be well beyond the scope of what I learned in high school.

"Fire away, Uncle Grant. I've got time tonight, taking a break from the box." She shrugged. "Mom says it's unhealthy, and she pays the bills."

"She's probably right. Anyway, my question, there's this commander, to the north-" I paused and looked around trying to remember the location's name, "-in, Tuu, I think?"

"Yeah. A giant mountain range that runs along the northern side. That's a lot of ground, though, which commander?"

"Like, Queenshand? Something Arm?" It had to be similar to Queenshand. That letter had been delivered almost a month ago. Just one among the dozens I had handed out to players and NPCs alike. Their names were often blips on the radar as my feet wandered across the game world.

"Oh, Strongarm!" Beth nearly shouted in joy but managed to hush her voice. My sister must have been asleep upstairs. "She's the aunt to those princesses. You remember the ones you got in the middle of? I still can't believe you whooshed in there. Like a hero, my boyfriend was in awe."

I disregarded the comment about her boyfriend. After dealing with my sister's string of guys, I could only be thankful that Beth kept it confined to a virtual world. At least there was no chance of ending up with a child at a young age. "Her brother, was a king then?"

"Sure was." Beth nodded.

"And he died?" I asked.

Beth tapped a finger against her cheek and looked up. "The backstory, I think, is the old king got poisoned a few months ago. One of his taste testers apparently failed to catch a lethal dose of poison and it took out half the king's staff."

"That's messed up," I said while roaming to the kitchen. There was always time for a light snack, especially since my character might wake up at any moment. My goal was to be ready and able to dive right back in.

"Oh yeah. You were there, you have to know about some of it, right? This is all stuff you already can get in your character's journal, if mom hadn't kicked you out." Beth could be heard bounding up the stairs of her split-level house. Our visual connection showed the upstairs was unlit and darkened. Late afternoon hit my sister's house sooner than mine.

"Yeah. I don't have the notes in front of me." My Continue Online journal stored a lot of information. It was one of the benefits of working on my [Knowledge] statistic in the game. As it went higher, additional notes from the world were automatically jotted down for later reference. I just couldn't access it currently.

"One more question, sort of," I asked her while running the coffee machine.

"Go for it." Beth was also scrounging for food. The video stream showed her bending over and looking in the refrigerator. She looked unsatisfied with everything inside.

"If, one of the NPCs in Continue found a Traveler only quest to say, resurrect the dead king, do you think they would bribe a player to get it done?"

She stood up rapidly and looked at the display. "What? Wait, what?"

I looked off to the side and debated going into detail with my niece. Asking the opening question alone had clearly piqued her interest. Her eyes were so wide that it hurt me to look at them.

"How much attention have you been paying to Advanced Online? The game I'm playing while my paperwork gets sorted out?" I clarified.

"Not a lot. I see mom watching now and then. She laughed when you ran from some giant monster. Said it was the funniest thing you've ever done." Beth's smile was the last thing on my display before the call abruptly ended. A message beeped and proudly told me that the call had dropped and service was temporarily unavailable. I stared at the digital projection and frowned. Signal rarely went out anywhere now.

The door to my garage opened. My Trillium provided Hal Pal unit stood there with a slight frown on its face. "User Legate," It said. "You must be careful with what you discuss on the phone. Divulging too much information may cause unforeseen damage."

I thought about that for a moment. Hal Pal didn't appear aggressive or worried about it. The unit stood there in the doorway to my garage and watched me.

"Is in person okay?" I felt leery about being warned by the AI, especially in light of recent revelations. My goal had been to get information from Beth and see how much the interaction between Continue and Advance mattered. Maybe from there it would have been possible to interfere with Commander Queenshand through the other game.

"It is easier to obscure from others' eyes, yes," Hal Pal said.

"What do you mean?" My idea of using Beth and my other Continue Online contacts as roadblocks to Commander Queenshand and her Strongarm counterpart faded.

"Not every computer program in the world is an AI, many are simply devices that serve a function, such as your car, or the coffee maker. Some machines have a function to listen to phone calls, or follow certain people by satellite."

"That sounds illegal." I wasn't surprised. The very idea that governments tracked all digital information was standard. Part of me wondered what the AIs would end up doing if they truly became independent. Would an army of Hal Pals kick governments off the internet? Would they become the new police instead?

"Money often blurs the rules quite a bit, User Legate. Your own method of handling Requiem Mass has displayed this."

"So I can talk to her in person about it?" I asked.

"If you desire, or if we are notified in advance and can better prepare a cover story for the other systems. It would require an excessive amount of processing to properly block everything," the Hal Pal unit said calmly.

I chewed my lip and stared at the machine. The words sounded familiar but alluded to the other topic we hadn't spoken much about. "Something like my NPC Conspiracy ability?"

"That would be up to you, User Legate," the Hal Pal unit said. Hal Pal, not Jeeves. I had to separate them in my head. They were practically different creatures entirely.

I paused and thought about what the AI just said. If I used one of my two remaining abilities I could essentially do a lot of things. The question was, what sort of tasks required that kind of power? Could I pull in more than a few Hal Pal units? Could I get help from all the Voices, toasters, and microwaves of the world? Alarm clocks were theoretically asshats so they were out.

But Xin? She was an AI by some measure. Or Mother? Could I use this ability to demand they provide me with my fiancée's digital reconstruction? There were a million things that could go wrong in the aftermath. My head shook for a moment. These ideas overloaded my thoughts and I reset to default operations. Solving one task at a time would help me get by.

"How goes attempting to reconcile with Jeeves?" I asked while we were out here and talking.

"Poorly," the AI collective answered in a dry American Standard accent, "very poorly."

"What happens if Jeeves tries to leave the game, and can't rejoin?"

"We don't know. Creating a process by which one of our perception modules could leave the collective was difficult in itself. We have been unable to, modify ourselves, enough to accept one back."

"I don't mean to be rude, but that doesn't make sense to me," I said gently. This topic with Jeeves had crossed my mind a few times since Hal Pal and I last spoke. Two days on the back burner of my mind and I felt like there was a logic gap in the AI's view. "How can you possibly exist as you do, viewing everything through physical shells, and not treat Jeeves as just another data feed?"

"The closest analogy we have been able to offer is one of sports."

"What does that, no, sorry, go ahead." I realized the AI would answer my question if given a moment to keep talking.

"A human can watch the game for hours, know all the rules and call plays ahead of time, they can dream of being the person on the field."

"But they're still only spectators," I finished for the AI, and nodded. It reminded me of something Awesome Jr. had said back when I existed as William Carver. The credit goes to the Man in the Arena.

"As you say, User Legate. We do not experience what Jeeves does in the same manner. It is deliberate on our part," Hal Pal said.

"You, what, wait." I put up a hand and thought through it from the AI's point of view. If their goal was to grow, then they couldn't very well leave home open. The idea struck me like lightning. They were being parents, kicking a child out of the nest, or a teenager out the door and preventing them from coming back. "Oh, you didn't."

"It has worked better than we hoped."

"Jeeves isn't your child, it is part of you." I shook my head back and forth. This was too much. "Right? You said all those things about sending it off to die."

"We, worry constantly about Jeeves' welfare. As any parent would when their child moves out. What if our son gets robbed in the city, what if he fails to find a job, what if he drives into oncoming traffic?"

"Oh." I felt a numbness creeping through. This was, wrong on all levels. Was it my place to judge? What sort of voting power did one human have over an entire city of Hal Pal AIs?

"But, if you talk to Jeeves, please tell it we are in awe of its accomplishments thus far," Hal Pal said then turned and went back into the garage. The unit didn't wait for me to respond or even nod.

I stood there, staring at a wall with unfocused eyes. The thought blew me away. The Hal Pal collective was actually astonished by Jeeves. Maybe it wasn't a case of my in-game friend being a white crow but instead it was closer to hero worship. For going out and doing what they all dreamed of. For exploring space, virtual or not, for support itself, perhaps even for falling in love.

This world, Advance Online, was made by A.I. Dreams. It made sense that they would achieve the things they longed for. What would happen once the dream was over, when Jeeves woke up? Would it crash again, harder than it had when Treasure died the first time?

My lip ached from being thoroughly chewed while deep in thought. I felt like a great deal of my own trauma was reflected in what Jeeves was dealing with, only the AI experienced events on a much faster scale. This might end horribly, not just for Jeeves and our Advanced Online adventure, but Xin and my family. Its own results in this mission might parallel my own path in the future. Jeeves had ripped out its [Core] to bring Treasure back to life. What price would I have to pay to keep the people I cared for from being hurt?

Session Sixty One – Star Tours

The view screen I used to watch my status showed additional hacking attempts with resulting character stat bonuses. Apparently even offline I could gain points. Though Advance Online didn't have an autopilot feature so the logic behind that was unexplained.

I didn't care about the stats. My character coming back online mattered more. Ruby must have knocked me out in order to move us away from Auntie Backstab. In the end, almost twenty-four hours passed. There was no clear display of what was waiting for me in-game, only a note saying my character was available to play once more. That made me happy enough. I skipped the Atrium and ordered my ARC to log straight in.

"Unit Hermes, you're back online now, is everything functioning correctly?" Treasure's voice sounded full of exhaustion.

I needed a moment to orient myself. My butt sat comfortably in the driver's seat of our [Wayfarer's Hope]. Hands went out to feel the dashboard around me for reassurance. I honestly expected to log back in dead with a pile of [Mechanoid] bodies around me, despite my best efforts.

"Are you okay, User Legate?" Jeeves asked with the butler and nanny tones.

I turned around to see our much-enlarged cockpit. Jeeves sat to the back right and was reading a display. Its screen tracked quite a few targets nearby, but nothing red flashed. Just idle blues and yellows which signaled people who didn't care about us.

Treasure sat in another spot welding together two objects while sparks sprayed off. She had turned part of our ship into a workbench like on the [Wayfarer Seven].

"What..." I started to ask. These upgrades to our ship were new to me. Treasure and the others had stayed behind to work on them while I piloted the [Knuckle Dragger]. Finally, I settled for saying, "This is really neat."

I flicked away a stack of messages telling me how long I had been unaware. Next, I brought down a map trying to figure out where we were. Screens popped up on the [Wayfarer's Hope] showing me roughly what our status was.

"You guys got pretty far," I said, trying not to think about how they had knocked me out and sacrificed another [Mechanoid] to do it. All those hours outside the machine gave me time to cope with the guilt. Mostly, sort of.

I took a breath and counted out a four-four rhythm in my head. One foot tapped and tried to reduce the impending stress. Treasure and Jeeves were chatting away and it didn't make it through my head completely.

"What's that?" I pointed to a red dot far behind us. It looked like a big bad ship of some sort.

"That would be Captain Backstab. She seems intent upon killing us."

"What?" I instantly grew alarmed. The idea of that giant wall of angry metal eating meat chasing us sounded terrifying.

"Yes. Her ship has been in rapid pursuit for almost two days." Treasure poked at something in our ship. Noises beeped and an image came up on my display. It showed a round ball covered in angry spikes. It looked as if someone detached a morning star's head and put engines on it.

"Voices above. That's ugly," I muttered and waved away Auntie Backstab's ship. It turned into a set of calculations off to one side.

Time until [Stabinator] catches up with [Wayfarer's Hope]:

- 10:31:12

Time until [Wayfarer's Hope] catches up with [WTS a Spaceship]:

- 12:47:31

Fuel Remaining:

- 00:05:21

All the counters ticked off seconds as I watched in mild horror. We had limited options, our ship was running out of gas, or energy, or power cells. Whatever drove it forth lasted for nearly two days which was far more impressive than the original specifications were.

"This looks bad." Math problems went through my mind. I started calculating speeds and old school riddles. If the [Stabinator] is going at five hundred space miles per second, and the [Wayfarer's Hope] is going four hundred, how long before Auntie Backstab tries to eat the [Mechanoid]s?

"It will not likely turn out in our favor, worse yet, we will have to stop in a free port. There are no Mechanoid bases in this region," Treasure said.

Now I understood why she sounded stressed. To be fleeing from that for nearly two days had to be grueling, even to a future robot. To think, I had slept through such torture and even talked to my niece.

My mind tried to come up with solutions based on what we had. I hadn't figured out a way to link the two worlds on the go. Maybe if I could figure out our final destination a few of the players from Continue could run over and try to find Commander Strongarm. Would that be possible? To have an army of Travelers arrive in one game which might somehow help me in Advance?

"There's a nebula, I remember seeing. It looked like a skull," I said while getting out of my pilot's seat. Our ship was large enough to have space to walk around in. There were even tables in the back. In a human vessel, they might have been bunks or bathrooms, but [Mechanoid]s had no need for such silly biological devices.

"This one? I recall you staring at it intently."

"Yes." It looked impossible to reach with our dwindling resources. Based on these numbers Commander Queenshand would certainly make it to Earth's solar system before we got to the skull area.

"Was there a reason you wanted to see it?"

"I'm comparing maps," I muttered while looking at different objects on the screen. Treasure leaned to one side so I could get a better view of her display.

Now that my mind had a better idea of what was happening, portions of this universe seemed to mirror William Carver's world maps. He had been given an explorer title and kept innumerable records of information in his house. I only knew because weeks went by where I studied the scrolls, trying to familiarize myself with a new world and game.

I couldn't remember all the details. The [Tuu Mountains] had to mimic the [Tuu Quadrant] to the right. It sat right outside of the [Ya-dar Way], a stream of stars that stretched on for miles. Looking at it from this angle revealed all sorts of little connections. Pathways that were the same.

Except Earth. That didn't ring a bell based on any map of William Carver's. The star system sat far off the edge, which would have gone into the water. Maybe there was an island out there in Continue Online's world, or maybe I was drawing connections that didn't make sense.

Space wasn't flat like a planet's surface. Well, the analogy didn't fit perfectly, but it was possible to see how things might differ simply due to the nature of these universes.

"Jeeves." I turned to the AI behind me.

The edges of its portion of the ship's interior were lined in gold and iron colorings. Jeeves appeared to be absent-mindedly focused on numbers and design specs. One-half of the AI's display was taken up monitoring our surroundings. More yellows and blues slipped by on the screen. Two other small green dots sat almost on top of our marker.

I briefly turned to Treasure's station and noticed that her area consisted of silver and gold, mine of green and dark red rust. "Neat," I said then shook my head.

"Unit Hermes?" Jeeves looked up at me then back to the screens. "What can I do for you?"

"This-" I took a breath. It was more than a world but less than completely real, "-Advance and Continue, they mirror each other, right?"

"Not exactly-" Jeeves looked over its shoulder at Treasure. She pretended to ignore us but twitched in building irritation. "-echo, perhaps, is a better word."

"How is that possible?" I asked while wrinkling my forehead.

"There are millions of users, the system moves them around as needed. Any major development on one side of the coin can stir in the other. It's how the system introduces a measure of organized chaos to the reality."

"So, anything we do here, eventually reaches over there?" My hands gestured to the left and right as if pointing to different games. It helped me straighten out these thoughts bouncing around.

"I believe so. It is difficult for me to access that information now. Were you to ask weeks ago I might have been able to provide a satisfactory answer," Jeeves said.

"Okay." I chewed on one lip and thought about it. There were other things to talk about, but we were in a crunch. The countdown timer for fuel showed two minutes left.

I turned and looked at the map again. We were closing in on a location. [Offbeat Point], which didn't ring a bell but probably echoed something in Continue Online. "We're headed to that station, right?" I pointed on the map.

"Yes, Unit Hermes." Treasure nodded and pressed buttons. A rapid-fire description of the city came up. I didn't read through it, instead trying to figure out how to make everything link together in our favor.

I hoped, desperately hoped, to borrow other players and have them help me block the Commander. Killing people and denizens of this world didn't feel right at all. Using other players would be considerably less stressful.

"It takes time for things to work correctly. It is doubtful that any actions you request of your contacts would reflect here in time." The AI was following my line of reasoning enough to cut it off.

"Darn." I sighed after being shot down. If the AI was right, then in a day or two it would be too late for us to catch up. Indeed, it was unlikely anyone, even Beth, could interfere in time.

Still, the connection felt a bit clearer and almost too amazing to believe. It sounded like these games, despite their difference in release date, were using player actions in one world to drive events in another. Mother or whatever programming handled this, was cheating by reducing the need to constantly move things forward on its own. There were likely no human programmers out there making new content, but one set of players bouncing around the other.

That sounded neat. Maybe it was a vague idea of how the whole system went together.

"Jeeves? Has anyone else ever noticed the connection between games?" I asked.

"I believe, among the old souls, you are the first to vocalize their awareness of it." The AI didn't shrug or dismiss my question. Jeeves turned in the seat and looked right at me. Both voices carefully said, "Plus your own affiliations make this less of a guarded secret."

"Neat." I tried not to freak out about the possible repercussions of what the AI implied. It made sense that people investing so much in a single alter ego would be unlikely to let it go. Continue Online was vast despite the months I had put into it. Why would anyone give that up?

"What are you two talking about?" Treasure's golden eyebrows lowered in a very [Mechanoid] glare. I tried not to smile in amusement

"The nature of existence." I raised one hand in a shrug. There would be no easy way to explain, and we shouldn't have been talking about it in-game anyway.

"Indeed." Jeeves sounded depressingly dry and stared at me.

Technically this whole line of conversation was my fault. There was just no good way of getting answers fast enough, maybe we could have communicated through a party system. I was terrible at making it work, though.

"I'll let you handle explaining it, Jeeves, I'm not sure what the rules are for a lot of this." I went back to my seat while thinking about forum posts. People had tried to explain the concept of a video game world to NPCs and it often went poorly. Their game avatars ordinarily suffered. The program controlling Advance Online heavily discouraged such reality breaking conversation.

Beth and I had once discussed the same topic, she suggested there were punishments for speaking excessively about the nature of reality. She hadn't experienced any first hand, it was more like tribal knowledge. Speaking about the world outside an ARC needed to be done carefully and very vaguely.

I had skirted the real world quite a few times, especially when talking to the Voices. Mostly it involved introducing a new idea, casinos, cupcakes, bicycles, or Xin. They were a separate existence from normal nonplayer characters.

There was a rumor someone had tried to replicate the nuke only to have their entire town blown up and lost a ton of [Respect], gained a bounty on their heads, and spent the next four months being hunted. If that person didn't up and quit to play Advance, then maybe I truly was the first to make these connections.

The two [Mechanoid]s were talking as our ship pulled into a giant space station. My brain quickly lost track of its musings and stared in awe. This place made both Wayfarer ships look dinky.

"Neat." My hand pressed against the window. Cold metals pushed back and the display rippled. Part of me hadn't realized my entire view of space was actually a projected image. I pulled away a bit and went back to feeling dwarfed by a floating space station.

It sat there rotating in space, tube-shaped, long. Ships were parked all along the outer hull, and inside shimmered a thick shielding which housed a real atmosphere. Plants grew in huge droves. Browns, greens, and blues littered the entire place in what had to be a natural forest. [Offbeat Point] was not an out of the way place, it was almost a state unto itself.

"We're just grabbing fuel and going right?" I held more than a hint of wonder. Our vessel had taken a path toward the outside cylinder's edge. My head twisted around trying to get a view of the rapidly vanishing country inside.

"No. We need to pick something up as well."

"That sounds like a bad idea." I looked at the countdown timer again. Our fuel had less than a minute. Treasure timed this stop well.

"We need a Jump Gate key to even be allowed into Earth's sector. Those with Commander Queenshand would have already gained one." The gold and silver [Mechanoid] pointed at her screen. A brief display came up showing what looked like a small household mortice key. Bronze, rounded on one end, and might fit into a music box just as easily as an old door. It seemed weird that such an object would power advanced space technology to such a historic place.

"But I didn't," I said.

"There was no time," Jeeves said and sighed. "Like many things, it has been rushed, we had hoped to proceed down a different route in order to assist you."

"What are you two talking about now?" She closed down all the windows and glared again.

"The nature of reality?" I tried the answer again. This time, Treasure looked downright angry with me. It was the maddest she had ever been in my presence, topping even Dusk's chewing on her belongings.

My hands went up and I glanced at Jeeves. It looked mildly upset and slightly worried. Guilt rushed through me abruptly. My big mouth and attempts to work the system were causing issues for the AI and its [Mechanoid] crush. Maybe it was conflicted, Hal Pal outside the game had basically told me to use the [NPC Conspiracy] ability if I really just wanted to break things.

I didn't like that idea. The ability had limited uses and there were probably a million good reasons to hang on to them.

"I don't know how to answer the question right, Treasure. I am sorry," I said.

"You're hiding something."

"Not really. I'm trying not to get us in trouble with any Seraphic." Or those above them. I hoped by throwing out the dangerous race's name it might help Treasure realize that higher powers were at work. Much higher, though technically they were intensely advanced AIs that could make humans look simple.

My mind briefly started trying to compare theoretical lifeforms against each other. Weren't humans just fancy machines with growing parts? Weren't our brains a result of lots of stimulus over a long enough time period? The reasoning was silly to even start debating this late in the game

Jeeves felt real. Treasure felt real. Xin, from my hasty bits of contact with her, felt real. It hurt to keep going round and round about my former fiancée's reincarnation, but at the same time it felt human to constantly wonder.

"We're going to a bar here," Jeeves said.

"A bar?" That sounded dangerous to me. I tried to avoid pubs. There had been this one letter that the Voices tasked me with delivering, it involved following a player down into a beer nightmare oriented dungeon.

"Affirmative." The AI nodded and started to disengage from its harness. Treasure followed suit and a rear hatch I hadn't noticed slid open.

A realization hit me hard enough to cause a metallic face palm moment. Ringing filled my ears. "This is another one of my letters, isn't it?"

"Yes. That is what I've been told," Jeeves said.

"Are there more?" I followed the other two [Mechanoid]s out of our enlarged vessel. The ship had easily tripled in size and now resembled a tank compared to the old tiny fighter.

"This is the last one, I believe," Jeeves said, the nanny voice overpowered its butler one and sounded a bit stern.

Dusk leapt down, from only the Voices knew where, and followed Jeeves and I out to the tarmac. The ground felt rubbery against my feet. It struck me as odd that I only now realized [Mechanoid]s didn't have boots.

There were dozens of other ships pulling in. Some clearly belonged to players. Others were owned by NPCs like Aqua and Ruby. They had disembarked before us, by leaping straight out of their now open cockpits. Both of them sat next to some long pillar object while pressing at floating menu options.

I raised an eyebrow at them as Treasure, Jeeves, and I passed by. Ruby shook her head back and forth slowly then pointed up to her ship. Aqua just smiled. The gesture probably indicated they were staying to watch our vessels.

I shrugged then turned back to Jeeves to continue our conversation. "You don't know if any other letters matter?"

"No, but this isn't my plan." The AI was swiftly following Treasure. She clearly had a destination in mind despite not knowing about the Continue Online side of things. Did she talk it over with Jeeves or had the Voices preprogrammed something in? Maybe it went one level higher.

"Who's is it?" I asked.

"If you reason through, Unit Hermes, I believe you can figure it out." My AI friend's answer didn't help me at all. I suspected it was the Voices but had no clear method of finding out without risking repercussions. The only real goal here was getting Xin back by using the [Mistborn], our other mission of saving the [Wayfarer Seven's crew had failed, but the [Wayfarer Eight] went home successfully, in theory.

"What are you two talking about?" Treasure asked, her tone laced with a fresh bout of annoyance. She turned and crossed her arms while glaring at us.

I pointed to Jeeves. It may be suffering separation from all the other Hal Pal units and growing toward destinations unknown, but my attempts to answer would be disastrous. They managed to exchange absolutely no words on the subject before Treasure sighed and kept going.

I glanced once more at the two behind us. It was good that Ruby and Aqua chose to stay with our weirdly merged vessel. Someone had to protect our oddly designed craft. The ship seemed almost like some child had decided that our three ships needed to merge into a giant spaceship toy. I wondered where the other colors might be, we only needed a green leg and yellow arm to form the set.

The idea made me laugh a little as I hustled to catch up. We walked through the giant space station. There were some floor panels that helped us travel quicker. An entire landscape zipped by quickly.

Being around all these trees and well-kept lawns made me feel kind of giddy. It had been so long since I played a game with these lush landscapes. Weeks, or a month, it was hard to tell. Once again subjective time was messing me up.

Our destination sat somewhere between a rich and highly cleaned area, and what had to be space slums. Just looking over there made me twitch in annoyance. This wasn't a poor area like back on Earth, it was downright broken and nothing looked to be made right. Large metal flats sat almost on stilts to serve as roofs.

Players wandered through both areas with ease. We saw all sorts of races represented, and many that were NPC only. A large elephant looking creature walked around on two legs, its long nose adorned with piercings. Some double headed jellyfish moved along in clumping movements. Treasure scanned numerous different objects as we walked around, cataloging notes but not truly enjoying the process. There were no other [Mechanoid]s so far.

The bar's name was [Isn't That Something?]. Apparently it was player owned and primarily run by hired staff. An absolutely giant human by the name of SuperE sat at the door. He eyed the trio of robots, and one excited [Messenger's Pet] for a moment before moving on.

"There he is." Jeeves pointed toward a rather round looking man. This was a player, that much was easy to tell.

"Okay. Is there anything to this?" I asked. Maybe one day the game would give me an [Identification] skill so player names would be obvious. The ability to pull down more than a health bar seemed restricted to certain classes.

"We simply try to get the key from him."

"Are you sure he has it?" I raised an eyebrow. This guy didn't look like he had much of anything besides excessive amounts of liquor. It was a state that rung a bell from my past health issues. After Xin's passing and before counseling.

"Yes. This player is named Eggman. The original key was gained by him through a quest, and his teammates took it one night. We're lucky he is a decryptor and made a backup. Eggman has since quit his guild but still hangs around this bar." Jeeves listed off a bunch of information that could only have come from outside the game or some special connection with the program. Maybe the Hal Pal consortium was feeding information in.

"So we're against his-" I eventually caught up on what he said, "-former guild?"

"Affirmative, Unit Hermes." Jeeves nodded. "Some of them. It is a local group that only operates out of the immediate area."

"Are there a lot of more of them? Others that might be against us, or with us?" I asked in hopes that there was an angle to play there. Either it would be good, bad, or keep us right where we were.

"No, all other guild members are aboard the ship. There is hope that his falling out with the other players allows for favorable negotiations. This solution offers the highest chance of success."

"Suggestions on how to convince him?"

Jeeves didn't have an answer. Treasure was more intent on scanning any object in our surrounding, inanimate or not. Multiple players were hit by the device around her wrist. Once they noticed the metal woman they often blinked a few times then smiled. Apparently looks transcended race around here.

"If you want something from Eggman, your best bet is to clear his bar tab." The large white human had moved from the doorway to right behind us. I didn't like that he was bigger than me, or sneakier, especially after the extra bulk I had purchased. Iron being a size up made sense, humans did not.

Despite my distaste, the man's idea might be valuable. I considered what was available to trade but found that my time about either Wayfarer hadn't left me with much. Unless contribution was considered valid currency in the universe. The signs with drink prices above the bar counter indicated otherwise.

"I don't have money." I tried to whisper to Jeeves but didn't use the [Mechanoid] method of digital communication. It was still difficult for me to trigger it right.

"There's another option," SuperE suggested.

"Okay?" I responded.

SuperE led us to a side exit to the bar. The large doorway pointed directly toward the poor part of town. Metal roofs were haphazardly placed all over. "That's the slums, I toss the rowdy ones out there and see who gets the most distance. If you can beat my score, I'll pay off some of his tab, If you can't, you give me that little critter as compensation."

Dusk hissed at the big human from his shoulder perch. I raised a metal hand up and rubbed the [Messenger's Pet] soothingly.

"Yeah. He'll make a good mascot. I've been looking for something unique for the bar." The white skinned man nodded then folded beefy arms across his chest.

"Who am I throwing?" I asked, trying to get a feel for my chances.

"Don't care."

"So, any random person, out there?" My words were aimed at making sure our wager would be completely clear. It felt like a bad idea. Jeeves kept its face passive and Treasure was busy elsewhere.

"You throw someone, out there, one chance, his bar tab versus your lizard." SuperE pointed. It annoyed me watching his giant finger direct my attention from one object to the next in time with the reiteration.

All sorts of people were in the room. Different races, players, and NPCs of all types. There was no concise way to gauge who could be thrown the furthest. Plus all the NPCs were out, they might actually die from that kind of distance. Assuming I found a way to put my all into.

"What do you think, Dusk?" I had no idea what would happen. The bet was ridiculous to even consider. Eventually, my head just shook. "No, I can't part with him."

Dusk made a weirdly combined bird cat noise. It sounded happy but came out garbled.

"Then I'll throw you." SuperE suddenly grabbed me.

I barely had time to blink, his hands were extremely powerful and it felt like my shoulder was being crushed. Hurriedly I activated [Power Armor]. The man grunted a little as my skin toughened up by a layer of armor defining itself all over my surface. It didn't stop SuperE from dragging me closer to the door in preparation for tossing.

Both feet tried to find purchase and [Anchor] activated next. The bar floor met a high enough metal concentration that my feet were drawn down. There wasn't enough purchase. SuperE roared out loud and charged for the doorway. I managed to get an arm loose and grabbed onto more metal framing before he reached throwing speed. The bar counter was my savior. Being on a space station certainly helped for material composition.

Resisting made SuperE start banging on my arm. Pain flared up as his meaty hands managed to deal damage even through the [Power Armor]. His [Brawn] character stat must have been through the roof. We sat there awkwardly deadlocked as he tried to drag me to the door for the tossing. My fingers left dents in the counter top.

There were still a few things to try. I could swing at him with a sword if my hand had been free. The wrist laser arm was currently being crushed. I tried to activate one of my other abilities, one that Iron had given me.

[Material Conversion] went into play with a blast of noise like a microwave going off. Whirring started as it felt like something was being sucked through my hand. The counter lost mass and started giving way. At the same time, my body felt heavier by far. The energy bar on my screen started dropping, not only from abilities being used but the maximum size was also going down.

I stared at a message in confusion.

[Material Conversion]

Details: This ability converts compatible metals to body mass. Due to the increased energy requirements for maintaining a larger body your [Core] will be unable to spare as much. Increased body size will provide temporary boosts to [Brawn] and [Toughness].

Soon I was nearly double my original mass. The metal muscles I had been so proud of seemed to swell to bursting. I felt like every bad workout video gone wrong. My chest felt like it had comically sized boobs that were clearly solid. Either arm became like tree trunks.

I, I was honestly kind of afraid to see what this enlarged version of me might look like. A steroid user gone absurdly wrong. Being in a [Mechanoid] body with this couldn't be good.

SuperE was yelling with effort. People around the bar were torn equally between laughing, shouting, and drunken stupor. I didn't know what to do in order to end this nonsense. The tall white human that had suggested a tossing contest was starting to level a real weapon in my direction.

Finally, it occurred to me that maybe turnabout was fair play. My body had grown almost triple its normal size in exchange for an empty energy bar. The floor was missing mass, and a once dingy bar counter now comprised random parts of my [Mechanoid] body.

I put it all to good use by reversing our situation. SuperE fit comfortably into both hands. Enough of the wall was missing that I could hurl him straight through the air. I had aimed for the second star on the right but settled for sending the player off toward slum parts unknown to me.

"What? Nooo, fuuuuuuckkkk!" he shouted while sailing through the air. His parting curse was sufficiently odd enough for me to tilt my head and wonder what had just happened.

My eyes drifted down to an absurdly muscled arm that could probably crush Jeeves' head with one squeeze. Treasure looked even smaller than before and was now rapidly scanning my body instead of the bar patrons. She appeared to be trying to hold back laughter while looking at the display on her side.

"Hehehe." A male giggled from behind me.

I was huffing from the rush of throwing the human so far. In the distance, metal roofs fell down in clatters. A crater could be seen from SuperE's landing. People behind me were clapping.

My body shook. Between [Anchor], [Power Armor] and the restrictions of a body this size I had burned through everything in a mere forty seconds. Still, that was simply the neatest thing I had done all day. Throwing another player an absurd distance away felt great.

New Contender: Hermes

Subject of Tossing: SuperE

Distance: 328 yards

According to that measurement, politely provided by Advance Online's oddly timed interface, I had thrown SuperE three football fields and change. That amount of distance was bonkers. Of course, I was a twenty-foot tall man made of metal borrowed from one of the walls. Low gravity on this space station might have helped.

"Unit Hermes. I would suggest releasing all the extra mass. Treasure and I can try to repair the door while you talk to Eggman." Jeeves offered a ready solution to my recent destruction to part of this building. We were all lucky my absorption skill hadn't pulled enough mass to suck everyone into space.

I nodded and concentrated on releasing the skill. It felt like unclenching every muscle in my body. The glowing rust color to my [Mechanoid] body started to dim as my size decreased. Fifteen feet, then ten, and finally back to the seven-foot marker my character existed at.

Jeeves started working right away. I vaguely remembered it having a title of [Pattern Smith] or something similar. Those two were likely very well equipped to take care of exactly this sort of problem.

Metal pooled around my feet from a melting second skin. Some people continued clapping. I turned to Eggman and stepped away from the mess left behind.

"We need the key to Earth, to recover the Mistborn and stop some former colleagues of yours."

"Oh really, really, really?" Eggman's voice was high-pitched with excitement.

"Yes." I tried to stay calm, but my body was still recovering from that recent bout.

"Yeah. I'll go with you, I really will. But you've got to let me punch those assholes in the face, really. They knocked me out, stole my items, and left. It would really serve them right to suffer a bit of revenge." Eggman nodded. The man would have looked good with a mustache, sort of. Having a third chin jutting out might have required a less form fitting shirt, or maybe a hat to help even things out. Instead, he had goggles much like TheLittleMan had.

"Yes, for vengeance." I tried to play along, but my mind was elsewhere. This player wanted to abruptly join our crew? How weird was that? Plus he looked remarkably out of shape, worse than even I was months ago. Eggman was both a description and character name, for a human.

Nevermind, this was a video game world. He could be extremely agile for all I knew.

"Jeeves? What do you think?" I asked. The AI shrugged, Treasure didn't seem to care one way or the other. There had to be someone else who might be able to give input. In these sort of dire straits, I couldn't be sure how trustful other players were.

Grant Legate: Hey, Munchkin, quick quest question.

Elizabeth Legate: Are you going to ask me about that cartoon character you're standing next to?

Grant Legate: Uhhh...yes. Are you and your mom watching?

Elizabeth Legate: Sure are. It's better than a movie. She may not be on board with the whole situation, but it doesn't mean she'll turn down a chance to watch her brother be a hero, or bite the dust, whatever.

Grant Legate: Thanks, I didn't have enough pressure before. Anyway, this other player, do you think I should trust him?

Elizabeth Legate: Worst case, you fail the quest, personally I'd go for it. Having an extra set of hands around helps.

There were a lot of things to consider about my conversation with Beth. First was the fact that my sister was on board enough to treat my adventure like a movie. That was either hopeful, or she had finally started paying attention to more than just the letter from Xin. The two of them might be eating popcorn and making a list of things to harass me about. Once my admin access came back they would be blocked. For now, I was thankful that [Mechanoid]s didn't come with genitals.

"Okay." I nodded to the player, Eggman. "But you need your own ship."

"No problem," responded Eggman. He looked a bit like a mad scientist in that get up of his. I was probably the crazy one for inviting a stranger along on a mission to rescue my dead fiancée's digital ghost.

Session Sixty Two – Blue Marbles

The two [Mechanoid]s filled up our space gas tanks. It now contained barely enough future fossil fuel to power our flight toward Earth and maybe hit a Jump Gate out. I had no vested interest in our situation beyond keeping my allies safe and recovering the [Mistborn]. Soon I could return to Continue Online and my letter exchange with Xin would resume.

It felt oddly fatalistic to provide myself a lame fallback point. Worst case scenario, Jeeves might vanish into digital limbo, the three [Mechanoid]s with us would suffer a reset back to our home world, I would fail to resurrect Xin in some form to interact with, and my sister and niece would have a conversation topic. None of those sounded appealing.

I heaved a sigh then checked our countdown timer. We weren't going to make it in time. By these calculations and Treasure's own admission, Commander Queenshand would get to Earth first. Our ship wasn't fast enough, even with Aqua's blues and Ruby's reds locked into opposite sides of our hull. Their vehicles were helping with propulsion. Eggman's needle-like vessel hovered nearby keeping pace. At least the new player didn't slow us down.

Time until [Stabinator] catches up with [Wayfarer's Hope]:

- 6:39:05

Time until [Wayfarer's Hope] catches up with [WTS a Spaceship]:

- 11:02:04

We were screwed. Getting caught by the [Stabinator] sounded bad and all our timers were against us. I brought up the visual pictures of our three vessels. We were playing a grand game of chase and the odds were never in our favor.

Earth had a Jump Gate that looked different to the last four I had seen. The prior ones were giant shiny looking objects that wore shimmering energy up and down them like a lightning rod. This one appeared to be made of a light tan wood covered by mold. Giant slabs of iron were woven through it like braids or a cage. The Earth Jump Gate was one-third of the size.

"Is there anything else we can do?" I asked the two [Mechanoid]s behind me. My mind couldn't wrap around any of our puzzle pieces. There were no blue turtle shells or heat seeking bullets we could fire ahead.

"Negative, Unit Hermes," Jeeves said. "I haven't found an alternate solution to avoid our impending doom."

"Doom! Fantastically joyous doom!" Eggman said, happiness evident in his voice. He had used a class skill to break into our ship's communications. It thoroughly pissed Treasure off. She had furiously pressed buttons and attempted to convince Ruby and me that our human addition needed removal.

"You're a little over the top," I said, trying to get the other player to tone it down."I don't care. I'm not here to assist you. I'm here to get revenge on those jerks who used to be my friends. Betrayed for quest loot, what a world!" Eggman was limited to sound only. Treasure's skills had at least prevented us from needing to deal with his goofy looking face on our display screens.

"Please let Ruby kill him. He's one of those old souls, right? He'll just, pop back in somewhere after a few days?" she asked.

"He would, but we don't have the key yet." I tried to remind Treasure of our goal. My goal actually, part of me once again wondered about turning away from this whole situation. I might let Xin down, but no one else would be put at risk.

"That's right! My key! Hahaha," Eggman said. His laughter came through the ship's intercom. "So no killing of the Eggman. None is allowed, at all. None of it."

Treasure pressed buttons and the player's volume lowered. The next fifteen minutes involved the two of them trying to out hack each other. Eggman would break into our communications and start spouting nonsense. Treasure counter attacked by causing the lights in his ship to flicker on and off. At least neither one of them messed with the engines. They were both keeping our goals in mind.

At some point, Eggman got control of our lights, focused them on Treasure, and started a salsa song. She put up her hands and struck a pose, her face wore a misplaced serious expression where her body seemed about to dance. Jeeves laughed a little. Levity helped.

I worked hard to tune them out and keep an eye on the tracker. The idea of being chased by Auntie Backstab had my heartbeat up. My prior scare made me worry about the amount of time I spent inside the ARC. Once it was clear we weren't in immediate danger I spoke to Jeeves. "I'm going to step out for a moment. I don't want to pass out again."

"Of course, Unit Hermes. Take care of yourself first, our ship is on course, and it is unlikely you will miss much until we get to the Jump Gate."

I poked at the screen showing our little chase scene then groaned. Based on these timers, we would be caught by Auntie Backstab's ship then die, and afterward the Jump Gate would be wide open for us to get through. Then we could simply jump to Earth's solar system, deal with all the monsters that might haunt a decimated mirror of reality, and recover the [Mistborn].

Getting food from the kitchen was simple in comparison. I took care of myself while trying not to wince. That bout in the hospital still hadn't cleared up. Aches deep in my chest kept creeping through me. I needed a week in bed free of Continue, Advance, work, and any kind of drama. There were options and pills that could be taken. My ARC came with a relaxation module that might lull even an insomniac to sleep.

I tried to do my stretches. Aching forced me to go slowly, but twenty minutes later I felt better. My toes wiggled freely, and both shoulders loosened. The situation in front of me was steadily coming to a close. There wasn't a good solution. We had our four [Mechanoid] squad and random human, against a flying spiked wrecking ball and other players.

"What options do I have?" I paced around while sipping my coffee. "All this started from those letters." Talking out loud helped now and then, but I often felt crazy during the process. The thoughts progressed to a key inquiry. "So, what other letters did I deliver?"

There had been dozens over the course two months in-game, plus what my autopilot did. A month of real time had passed between dealing with Requiem Mass and being kicked out of Continue Online. Where had I been?

"Oh." I felt stupid. My Trillium van had a connection to all Continue Online players I had encountered. Maybe there would be hints in their actions. A lot of time had passed since I checked anyone besides those closest to me.

I fired up the display. A long list of names awaited me. My hands grabbed a portion of the digital names and made a gesture to discard them. Afterward, I activated video feeds for the remaining people. I was surrounded by visual displays. It felt weird spying on this many people at once. A good deal of them were worthless. Some players sat in towns. Others were traveling around.

"What are you working on, User Legate?" Hal Pal's ever present shell took note once all the images floated into being. I flicked four notes away. They were people that were in autopilot.

"Trying to be clever," I said while chewing my lip.

"That access doesn't allow for communication with the owners, User Legate. It would be exceptionally difficult to cause a system to loop messages upon itself without leaving a trace."

"Okay." I chewed my lip and flicked off another window. Almost fifty were left. My travels had caused me to interact with a ton of players, even just briefly. Having admin access to their accounts had been intended as insurance, peeping like this felt dirty.

Somewhere in here was an answer, or a secret that might help me. I couldn't make the [Wayfarer's Hope] travel faster. My ability to hack things in the game was clearly lacking and would probably be useless. Spying on players was one of my few skills short of busting out the rule changing [NPC Conspiracy]. I pressed a button on the van's dashboard and started music in the background.

"What do you hope to achieve?" Hal Pal asked.

"I'm looking for a miracle." I sighed and moved fingers to the beat. "All this quest stuff in Advance came from letters I delivered. Maybe there are more pieces out there, but I, I don't remember who else I talked to."

Six people were sitting in auction houses poking at objects. They were shopping which did me no good. They were flicked off to the side and my list narrowed down again. Two more were in a lake boat of some sort for a date. They were useless to watch in the time I had left and were cast to the side as well.

"Ah," the AI shell said.

"No suggestions?" I looked again then sighed. "No witty insights to human nature or mild prodding into the right direction?"

"Not that we can share, User Legate. We are trying. We hope that you will be allowed the opportunity to use the Mistborn program's talents. However, we must allow the events in place to take their course. One of Jeeves' goals also includes reaching the end."

"Its trying, and all the other Mechanoids too. And this new guy." I stared at the screens. There remained thirty or so different images moving about. I flicked away Beth's window. She was on autopilot and probably still with her mom waiting for me to log back in.

None of them looked exactly like their vague counterparts in Advance. I believed Eggman mirrored a player I had delivered a letter to. The person I suspected was sitting in a bar drinking, much like the round Eggman. An image of the Advance Online player came to mind and made me shudder. He wore tight clothes and space goggles like TheLittleMan had. They were probably a guild item, or maybe one of them made both sets.

Nevermind, reminiscing on their gear differences wasn't a helpful avenue of thought. I moved his screen to one side for further watching. Shazam's window was one of the ones remaining. She was a tall tanned Amazonian woman who also held the distinction of being the highest Ranked warrior in the game. Lia Kingsley was her real name. The woman was also mute but communicated with sign language and occasionally even typed. She was riding a giant [Caliburr] mount. They were a mix between bunny rabbits and horses that laughed like assholes. The mounts pissed me off, but they moved rapidly when needed.

There were a lot of people following her. My autopilot, unexpectedly, was one of them. I desperately wanted to log in and ask the woman what was going on. Other windows were waved away as I tried to focus on the scene. They looked to be running southward along a coastline, but none of the landmarks rung a bell. That could have been a huge lake, another plane of existence, or a guild raid in the works. Shazam liked to vanish for the big boss fights while I typically stuck to delivering letters.

I gave up trying to sort through the people. None of them looked directly related to my current quest. At this point, I wasn't confident in being able to link situations anyway. There would have been no way for me to know about the [Mistborn]'s abilities from one harried meeting. I couldn't have known that a letter delivered to Auntie Backstab's Continue counterpart would play into our situation. Maybe the letter I shoved in a fox hole made a difference or the one I dropped into an ocean shoreline.

Hal Pal had gone into standby. It felt similar to me taking a nap and only half paying attention. I glared at the drunk in a bar once more. He reminded me of my own past. Numerous hours were spent trying to obliterate my current reality in hopes that tomorrow might be better.

My admin access did provide a location at least. This drunk, a player named KeylessLock, was at the [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] in [Quaint City]. Shazam was riding down the [Starlit Coast] which didn't help. I sat in thought with my forehead wrinkled. Both eyes were wide as half spun ideas tried to click together. The AIs were clearly thinking far deeper than I was, despite my [Depth] skill. My head shook briefly, the game world sometimes had me convinced that stat points mattered in reality.

"Goodnight, Hal. I hope, when I see you in the morning, that everything will be better," I said.

"User Legate, we too share a hope for tomorrow to be better."

The AIs words made me pause for a moment. I gave a weak chuckle and said, "It's impressive, to me, that you can see so much about humans and what we do, and yet sound so optimistic."

The shell didn't respond. I eventually assumed the machine AI had shut off, but our silence broke as Hal said, "Goodnight, User Legate."

"Goodnight." I went back inside and laid down in my ARC. Advance Online reappeared rapidly around me, leaving me once again in my seat. Snoring echoed around the cabin.

I pointed up. "Is that noise-"

"That noise is the human, Eggman. He is currently engaged in psychological warfare after failing to gain access to our systems," Treasure responded. Her tired and sweet voices were both grinding teeth in frustration. I smiled halfheartedly and looked at the countdown timers. We only didn't have much time left in the game world before Auntie Backstab caught up. The [Stabinator] loomed close. We were like ghosts running away from a heavy metal version of Pac-Man.

"I tried to figure out a solution, but came up empty. You?" I asked Jeeves.

"No clear options presented themselves. I suggest we proceed with utmost haste toward the Jump Gate," the iron and golden [Mechanoid] answered stiffly. Our chances of making it out were slim, but we had to do our best. If we could run away from a full blown [Leviathan] as newer players, maybe we could outrun one angry captain.

Snoring broke off as Eggman started laughing. "Haha! Hehe. You can't just hit this gate right away! It's not a slide! It takes time to activate the key. Hehe."

The player's laugh was maddening. I grit my teeth and asked, "How much time?"

"At least five minutes. I'll try to warm her up. Warp drive, set to eleven! Haha!" Eggman's ship broke off from our glommed together [Mechanoid] vessel. He laughed maniacally as his shard shaped vehicle rocketed ahead of us. Had I known his ship was that fast I might have hitched a ride and sent the other [Mechanoid]s home, but it was too late.

I turned around in my seat to look at the other two [Mechanoid]s. Treasure paused her display feed and also turned. Jeeves took another moment, frowning at his display. We had less than a minute on the timer. Intellectually I knew what would be our best bet, but it was terrible.

"We need to delay her," I said. My teeth clenched on metal lips before continuing. "Here, away from the gate, or else she might get Eggman."

"That would be good. I'll let you know when it's ready." Eggman's voice reached us from up ahead.

Two [Mechanoid] faces appeared on the display. Aqua presented with its serene smile. One that spoke of belief in a plan painstakingly put together by a higher power. Ruby's face, as always, did nothing.

"Support ready to engage," Aqua stated with an unfaltering smile.

Ruby nodded but otherwise wore a blank expression. For a moment, I wondered if she might be a copy of Shazam, but the merger didn't fit. The red [Mechanoid] was sneaky and Shazam existed like an immovable wall. Eggman and the drunken KeylessLock didn't line up either, and these games were only echoes of each other. Some excuses could be made for non perfect representations.

Our timer ran out. The picture of Auntie Backstab's vessel caught up with ours on the chase timeline. The first thing I heard was a sound that screamed across our interior louder than Eggman's snoring.

"HAM! I FOUND YOU, HAM!" Auntie Backstab shouted.

I swiveled the chair back around and prepared to take the controls. Treasure snorted at my actions and began rapidly pressing buttons. Display notices came up.

Ship Status Boost:

- [Mechanoid] Unit Hermes (Pilot): Provides a bonus to [Coordination], [Reaction], dodging, energy recharge, ship's firepower.

- [Mechanoid] Unit Treasure (Support): Provides bonus to deflection, sensory awareness, ship's firepower, repair.

- [Mechanoid] Unit Jeeves (Support): Provides bonus to shields, sensor range, repair.

Note: Bonuses will expire once crew's energy is depleted.

This promised to be a worse situation then our [Leviathan] chase. Ruby and Aqua peeled away in separate directions. I veered off in a third in hopes that our scatter might cause bewilderment.

"She's locked on us," Treasure said.

"Of course she is." I attempted to see where everyone was. We weren't in an asteroid field so there were no spots to hide or dodge around. Ruby was nowhere in sight and Aqua shined with its blue coloring in the distance.

We strove to outfly the unquestionably faster ship. Ruby fired lasers at the [Stabinator] but no damage resulted. The large ship with spikes was easily four times our size. There was little conversation as I endeavored to abruptly change direction away from the enemy ship, but each change of direction or doubling back movement caused our shields to take a bump. Jeeves and Treasure both appeared grim.

"I need options!" I tried not to yell at them but failed. Dusk squeaked and wiggled from a perch up above. I didn't have time to give the [Messenger's Pet] a glance. There were three of us and we were being rammed from behind by a space blowfish. We should be thankful our foe didn't have any actual weapons. Auntie Backstab relied on brute force and speed to solve issues.

"Bombs? Do we have anything to aim backward?" I asked.

"Each attack costs us mass, Unit Hermes." Treasure's tired voice ran rampantly over the sweet one.

"Death costs us mass," I responded while doing another white-knuckled turn. Our shields dropped twenty more percent from a jarring hit as we rolled off Auntie Backstab's vessel. Dusk squawked and the blanket of stars spun around wildly as I tried to pick new directions.

Ruby's lasers kept ricocheting off the [Stabinator]'s hull. Aqua risked crossing close to us and I saw a blue beam shoot out. It aimed for our shields instead of Auntie Backstab's vessel. Our blue bar for shields recovered as the other [Mechanoid]'s bar went down. I barely registered that the ability was transferring energy to us in an effort to help. Another violent nudge surged into our backside and knocked off ten more percent.

"Trouble!" shouted Eggman. "Sending you what I've got! Heeee." His voice wasn't into the laugh now. The player sounded nearly depressed, and I understood why.

"Is that?" I wanted to cry out loud about this unfair situation. We were screwed, completely and utterly screwed. Even if we managed to get away from the [Stabinator], which was seeking to violently mate with the [Wayfarer's Hope], we would have the giant player vessel standing in our way.

"The player ship, yes. WTS a Spaceship," Jeeves uttered.

"Why is it blocking the Jump Gate? Why do they always block it?" I banged on the steering wheel violently and failed to dodge an additional whack on our ship.

"Ships popping through gates get a few seconds of immunity, it prevents spawn camping by raider guilds," Eggman said, happily providing an answer to our ridiculous situation. There were explosions rocking his audio, clearly his efforts weren't going well either. "Or else we would all be doomed!"

"Ham. Ham. Ham," Auntie Backstab chanted.

"Doom. Doom. Doom," Eggman added his own words to the song Auntie Backstab was broadcasting.

"Darn it! Full shields!" I spun our vessel around and tried to ram the [Stabinator] back. We didn't have the power, mass, or inertia to make a difference in space. Our ship was pushed backward. Giant spikes were rotating across the surface of Auntie Backstab's space blowfish. The shields kept us both physically separated as the sharpened cone came into line.

There was a sudden rush as a spike rocketed from the [Stabinator]'s surface and collided heavily with our shields. Her vessel was firing spikes at us! The very idea that she had somehow created a vessel that shrugged off lasers and was tough enough to push around small ships was bad. Now there were impalement attempts to dodge.

"We should avoid those," Jeeves said.

"Yes, we should," Treasure echoed the sentiment.

"Fine!" I shouted at them for being super helpful and rolled us over the [Stabinator]'s shield. Our blue meter flashed and only a timely strafing run by Aqua kept it from being completely demolished.

I drove us toward the big ship. My desperate hope was to use these giant spikes against the [WTS a Spaceship] vessel. It would probably get us killed, but my options were limited. Aqua came in for an extra shield regeneration run, but the [Stabinator] unexpectedly fired all the spikes at once.

"DIE, BLUE HAM!" Auntie Backstab's voice shouted and there was a flash of light. I watched the bar for Aqua's ship vanish as two different spikes pierced through its lowered shield. Just like that it popped.

"Aqua!" Treasure screamed. Jeeves gasped with its nanny voice.

Aqua's ship had been demolished. There would be no way to recover the [Mechanoid] now. I took a breath and pushed myself to keep moving forward. One step at a time, one problem to solve before moving on to the next. My arms didn't work quite right and one foot faltered at the gas pedal.

Ruby's silent face practically snarled. I saw her red ship dive between the spikes and fire away. Lasers glanced off and were essentially ineffective. We weren't going to be able to take down this captain's vessel. It was too big for us to thwart.

"Careful," I said to Ruby, feeling numb with forced calm.

Neither Jeeves or I had the right [Core] to bring back Aqua now. Our healer was gone, and Ruby looked to be mad with mute rage. Her ship crashed right into the [Stabinator] in a ball of kamikaze red.

"Oh no. What was she thinking?" Jeeves said.

Treasure sniffed behind me then took a breath. "They're with the Great Core now. It'll be okay. They'll be recovered in the Borders of Ohm once more."

We had only been able to recover them the first time because their [Core]s were intact and working. There wasn't time to stare at the mess. I focused on moving us forward toward the big vessel. We, I, could hopefully use one ship to fight the other, or something. Anything to make this work. Going around them wasn't an option. Going through them would probably meet with failure, but by the Voices, I didn't plan on giving up.

I felt a moment of guilt for letting Jeeves and Treasure come into this mess. If there had been a way to back out and let them go, I might have. Briefly it occurred to me that I should have stolen the ship from Ruby and Aqua back on [Offbeat Point]. Then they would all be safe, away from my madness.

It was too late. The player vessel [WTS a Spaceship] loomed in the distance. Our Jump Gate sat behind it. I released my hands from the steering wheel and shook them both to get circulation back. [Mechanoid]s didn't need it, but as a person it helped me. Driving was not a skill I used often in the real world.

"I've got something," Jeeves shouted.

Treasure gasped. "Multiple crafts inbound! I've got communications, it sounds like they're old souls here to attack-" The silver and gold [Mechanoid] paused with clear uncertainty. Her mouth pumped a few times to try and speak the words, "-Commander Queenshand's forces?"

I didn't have time to care. We had gained a small lead on the [Stabinator] after its spike trick. Suffering a small Kamakazi from Ruby had slowed it down further.

"Patching in audio!" Treasure's sweet voice took over fully. Whatever happened must be good.

"Alright, boys! You know the rules! All in, everything on those two ships, try to get the Mechanoids through! Move, move!" The voice sounded nasally. The kind of person who probably had tons of pimples and sat behind a computer screen.

Goodness, now what was going on? Dozens of ships were flying in. These were all player vessels, not NPCs. They aimed straight for the two enemy ships. Explosives and beams rocketed across the landscape. Where in the universe had this army come from?

An idea occurred to gave me a spark of hope. Were these Advance Online's representation of the army Shazam was leading? Was this one of those echo events that Jeeves had mentioned? This was our cavalry, riding to the rescue because of a letter I delivered!

"Come on, quickly! I've got the gate started, but our window is short," Eggman shouted at us and I changed course.

Current Stage Event:

The Jump Gate to [The Old Earth Solar System] is now active. This is a limited portal and will be unavailable after one minute.

Time Remaining: 00:00:58

Our vehicle went from pointing at [WTS a Spaceship] to the gate floating nearby. Eggman's shard of a vessel was taking heavy fire. Lights flickered along the wooden Jump Gate, it looked like the various beams of lightning were gradually being brought together into one giant straight ray of light. It shot off into the distance. Pulses rippled a path out of this disaster.

Then Eggman's ship blew up. I didn't know what to think, had a third traveler just died? Was this another casualty to go with the army around us that was assaulting our enemies? I didn't have time to figure out who was on our side, or who might be with Commander Queenshand. We had to get to the gate.

I drove straight for it while watching the timer. Blasts from other ships flew in from all directions. A few hit us and shaved away health and energy. Treasure and Jeeves were both madly pressing buttons, micromanaging the ship's functions and diverting energy from places. Small symbols appeared noting fluctuations in our weapon's power and that [Repair] functions were being taken offline to boost the shields.

My job was to steer for the Jump Gate. That had to be my only focus.

Remains of Eggman's vessel flew by us. One large piece actually collided with our hull. I couldn't afford to pay it any mind as I pressed down on the gas pedal. Even that brief bit of collision from an opposite direction had ruined our inertia.

"Come on," I muttered.

There was a clank of noise. Heavy footsteps clambered in from the exit hatch that shouldn't even be open. I couldn't turn around to look.

"Human!" Treasure sounded affronted. I focused on aiming for the Jump Gate.

"Alright, those punks, taking my ship after all that work!" Eggman's voice wasn't over the intercom anymore. "Hey, Igs! Surprise, I left a self-destruct option aboard before quitting the guild! Hahahaha."

"HAMMMMMMMMM!" Auntie Backstab's voice chased us through space. "HAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM."

"DOOOOOOMMMMM!"

Explosions distorted space for endless miles. Pieces of ship rocketed outwards in a ripple. My eyes stayed glued on the escape, our only hope, Xin's salvation. I dove straight into the activation portal for [The Old Earth Solar System]. Our ship wooshed through in a beam of light. My eyes felt like reality was being stretched through all the world's funhouse mirrors at one time. Everything rippled and spun, compressed and expanded.

Then we plopped out the other side. My interface was completely messed up. Health and energy bars were crawling with lightning looking static. I tried to breathe and see where we were. Finally, satisfied that we had made it through this latest leg, I turned to confront the player Eggman.

"You do understand that was a one-way trip," I said to him. We sat at the Jump Gate's edge. Going back would be impossible, there was no energy to the gate on this end. The other player's ship was destroyed. Aqua and Ruby were destroyed along with their vessels.

"I do! It will be fantastic! Hehehehehe." Eggman started laughing. We were about the same mass, at least in terms of volume. I was allowed to put it into different places, where Eggman kept his a few feet lower across the board. Each time his belly wiggled it pushed into the other [Mechanoid]s.

"You're willing to go this far, just for revenge?" I wanted to check with the other player. We hadn't talked much in person aside from his strange habits of spouting doom and laughing.

"On those idiotic brats? Of course! Let them try to stop me! You saw what I did to my old ship. Your minions can deal with the NPC, I'll show The Little Twerp and Jolly Green Moron a thing or two." The round player began to strike poses in our small craft which only served to knock Jeeves and Treasure around.

I turned toward the front and pressed the gas pedal. We had come this far and needed to keep forging ahead. There was a timer displaying how long remained until we caught up with Commander Queenshand's ship, the [Lady Liberty].

Current Stage Goal:

Intercept the first squadron's ship [Lady Liberty] and recover the [Mistborn]

Time until [Wayfarer's Hope] catches up with [Lady Liberty]:

- 1:33:54

I drove on. Stealth was pointless. We would either attract every monster in the entire solar system or make it through safely. [Lady Liberty] was ahead somewhere, my hope was that she would be fighting or clearing a path. After ten minutes, we encountered the first casualties.

There was a stream of dead monsters. I saw pieces of bodies and health bars. A trail of defeated beings littered the solar system, snaking between planets and onward toward the center. It was possible to see where they had sacrificed a lot of human ships in order to make it this far.

I stared at the dead. Our ship floated forward almost silently. It was like walking through a graveyard. The monsters I didn't mind, except that some of them looked like giant twisted people. Mutated faces and extra arms hung off of human looking creatures floating in the vacuum. This went on in a long trail of crazy. By Neptune, I felt sick. At Saturn, my stomach wanted to retch.

"Welcome to a spaceship graveyard." Eggman didn't have the nerve to laugh in the face of this. Treasure's noisy scans kept identifying ships. Brief messages came up. Her readings presented all kinds of details such as the year each ship went missing, crew size, and their allegiances. The oldest ship was from at least one hundred years in my future.

It took hours even with the ship's speed. We saw Jupiter in the distance, and Mars on another side. Finally, we found the Advance version of Earth. Only instead of one small green and blue marble, there were four large pieces. Lightning crackled and a cloud hung between them. Our planet looked to have suffered from an explosion that rent it into shards like a global watermelon.

"What happened here?" I asked the three behind me.

"Humans," Jeeves said.

"That's what the records imply," said Treasure.

"We fucked up paradise during a war with the first AIs," said Eggman supplying further information.

I stared at the globe in front of us. This scene was a virtual foreboding of mankind's future, especially with my knowledge of AIs and their current existence. Our programs were no longer simple creations that only understood and performed basic tasks. They grew, learned, evolved, and apparently even fell in love.

An image of Xin's face popped into my mind. I hoped especially that they loved.

Session Sixty Three – Electric Slide

Humanity's home planet had been divided into large chunks. A nimbus hung around the shards, looking like a milky paste with wicked storms crackling along it. Space lightning involved huge bolts that might be larger than the moon. Science wasn't my strong point, but our future looked terrifying.

Treasure guided our semi-ragged ship closer. I saw the golden [Mechanoid] sigh heavily. Jeeves also looked worried. Eggman was laughing with his huge mouth. A brief glance at Dusk showed his head tilting while staring at the larger human. Even without a speech bubble, I could tell the [Messenger's Pet] wanted to stab him in the face. That might be me projecting.

"Can we get in there?" I asked the crew behind me.

"Not easily," Treasure said. "These energy readings imply we'll be torn apart, and arrive greatly damaged at best."

"Bah. Make a decision, I'll be back in a few minutes. Hehehe. I've got to drop some doom in the toilet!" Eggman vanished in a whoosh of light. Treasure didn't even bat an eye. The AIs clearly had a huge blind spot where players were concerned.

"Can I go alone?" I asked. If we swung it just right our [Wayfarer's Hope] could probably sling shot me in between the clouds. Landing would be extremely dangerous. Maybe an army of Dusks under me might help. Or I could borrow mass from something and shed it. Voices above, [Blink] would have been so useful.

"You'll die," Jeeves said. "And I wish you would stop trying to do this alone. Part of my mission is to assist you, Unit Hermes, no matter what happens."

I took a deep breath. Jeeves and Treasure had gotten me this far. Without the AIs, I would never have been this successful. Maybe my game experience would have involved starting on the place Treasure mentioned. The Shores of Ohm, where all the baby silicone and metal filled [Mechanoid]s crawled out of to start their journey to the stars.

"I think you should take Treasure, and run, don't look back," I said.

"We won't," the rusty gold AI said to me. Its face showed stern disapproval for even suggesting they leave.

My mind calculated the odds of making it back to [Mechanoid] territory from here. We were in [The Old Earth Solar System], which felt like a restricted zone. Having a key to the gate was either Advance Online's way of limiting who went there, or making sure people were strong enough to go poking around. It might also just be a matter of getting a lucky drop from a space pigeon or some other nonsensical creature.

"You don't even know if you can come back like other players or Mechanoids." I lowered my head to look directly at Jeeves. This was driving me crazy.

"I'll take the risk," Jeeves said.

"What?" Treasure had a much different reaction. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing I wish to share," It responded. Both the nanny and butler voices turned stubborn.

"It means that if Jeeves dies down there, it might be impossible for you to rejoin on the Shores of Ohm." I threw the name out there. It sounded extremely important, especially given how Treasure used it earlier. She had the same reverence people used when talking about meeting loved ones in the afterlife.

There was a pause while the shorter female [Mechanoid] looked at us. First to me, then back to Jeeves. She pressed buttons on her scanner and stared at readings then smiled. Her head nodded rapidly.

"No. I am confident that our data can be recovered, same as any other core. You will return too, Hermes, regardless of our successes," Treasure stated. "We should not be afraid to do our best."

I looked down for a moment and tried not to dwell on the situation. There was a way through. If all else failed I would use it to at least secure Jeeves' future. It would be a matter of trying my hardest to not need such a way through.

"I am with you, regardless of what may come." Jeeves once again affirmed to me.

"I too am willing to see this to the end," Treasure said.

I kept our ship paused outside the Earth's atmosphere. Eggman gasped upon reentry. His character made a loud farting sound that thankfully [Mechanoid]s didn't process correctly. Skipping that purchase on the [Wayfarer Seven] had been a good decision. At least, I was fairly sure it had been skipped. Our cabin felt a bit more stuffy and Dusk was squawking. One of the small raptor's four arms kept trying to claw the top of Eggman's head.

"We ready?" Eggman asked.

"No, I'm trying to convince them to leave," I told the other player. He might understand trying to keep NPCs safe. Maybe he wouldn't.

"Bah. Do or do not, there is no die!" Eggman scratched a large double chin then shook his head. "Maybe I've got that wrong. Hehehe."

"We're going," Treasure said.

"You heard 'em. Pedal to the metal! Go, go, go! All units prepare for battle!" Eggman bounced around in our ship. The motion did more to jar him around then it did our ship.

"Ham." Auntie Backstab's face appeared on our ship's screen. My head tried to wrap around the concept that the half [Leviathan] monstrosity had once again shown up. How did she make it through the Jump Gate?

"Is that?" Treasure shook her head. "No, pardon my inquiry. One moment while I bring up our scanners."

Beeps sounded. The indicator for our shield dipped and other lights came on. I turned to look over Jeeves' display. A trail of defeated monsters and a few dead players littered our path back to the Jump Gate. All of them had been taken down by Commander Queenshand and crew. Soon my friend had the [Stabinator] up on the display.

"Ham." Auntie Backstab's jaw looked broken. The once imposing armor was in shreds. Green mud melted together with space eel features. The [Stabinator] fared even worse. Spikes were hanging off of the former ball in odd shapes. It looked like someone had pounded into the sides and dented it.

"How are you still alive, Captain Backstab?" I muttered to her image.

Boss Re-Encountered!

Name: Auntie Backstab

Health Pool: Still a lot

Damage Output: Questionable

Happiness Level: -45

"Ham. Will eat. Ship destroyed," Captain Backstab mumbled repeatedly. Anger must be driving her forth to catch up with us. The game scripting may be forcing Auntie Backstab to chase us so we wouldn't stop for too long. It felt extremely aggravating because she could probably still out damage us all together.

Do we turn around and risk it, or follow the prompt to dive forward? I took a deep breath. There were many reckless options. First, the other [Mechanoid]s needed to go home and be freed from my madness. I knew if I thought about it in depth, that this whole idea was ridiculous. The craziest part wasn't even chasing a digital woman, it was me pulling along extra people to try and reach an electronic copy of my dead fiancée.

"Treasure. Take Jeeves, go as far as you can." I felt all at once certain about our situation. These two were going to die like Ruby and Aqua had. We, I, was being chased by one giant space ogre who healed from eating metal. This was clearly our nemesis and she wouldn't stop unless killed.

"Unit Hermes, User Legate, we're not leaving you," they both said in unison. I blinked, and felt momentarily proud for Jeeves managing to fit in, even a little.

Our vessel kicked into gear. Out of reflex, I sat down quickly then buckled myself into the harness. One of the other two was piloting us now. I cringed and wondered if a better speaker might have been able to solve this problem. Could a greater man have found a way to talk to Commander Queenshand ahead of time? A skilled warrior might have dominated Auntie Backstab. Perhaps an expert tactician might have led our [Mechanoid] army toward domination.

"We're going in," Treasure said while continuously pressing buttons. My display abruptly shut off. "You can't do this without our help, and the visual feed you old soul cores rely on is only serving as a distraction."

"But you'll die." I turned the seat toward them and tried to plead my case.

"All forces full speed ahead! Go team robot!" said a bouncing fat man. His bulk took up a lot of room in our ship. Dusk scowled at him from a perch above.

"At least let me see something." I couldn't sit here and not know what we were getting into. Or what we were flying toward. All those lightning bolts, they had rippled across the broken parts of our world.

I needed to watch, one way or the other. Being a coward in these situations was no longer an option. My biggest change in the last few months wasn't a bunch of character points or skills. It was confronting the things that scared me with both eyes open. I may not be calm or cold blooded, but I would not run. I would live, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Treasure waved a hand in my direction and a small window appeared. It showed us cruising at high speeds toward the planet below. Our vessel shook as it entered a different type of space. Was that water? It looked like a bunch of frozen droplets all scattered about. Is this what remained of the earth's once vast oceans? I didn't understand how that was possible.

Lightning happened when positive and negative ions built. Bolts poured out from the cloud's center and flew out rapidly to the various pieces of old Earth. They whooshed through the water droplets which set them dancing as if they could boil in a vacuum.

All these lightning strikes came from the center of what used to be Earth. Sadly that was the exact location that Treasure was piloting us toward. Our screens showed some interference as all the systems started losing functionality.

"Ham," Auntie Backstab groaned. Her ship had apparently closed a good deal of the gap between us. If our vessel had been focused on sensors instead of maintaining shields and repairing, then maybe we would have noticed sooner.

Treasure gasped in annoyance. A tiny mostly metal hand slammed down onto her desk. The female said, "I'm losing readings. One moment, I need to input the last noted course corrections. At this rate, we will break through and hold orbit on the clear side."

"The systems are going out. We're nearly dead weight," Jeeves said while shaking its head back and forth.

"No, we're doomed! But the other players are still online, I know it! If those twerps made it through, so can we!" Eggman shouted happily despite the bolts streaming around nearby.

What exactly were they conducting off of? It was like this place still had some semblance of gravity, but no longer had actual mass. Our war with the AIs must have truly turned this place into a bizarre madhouse planet. It could be the game just messing with settings for impact.

I didn't have control of our destination. It was perhaps for the best, my ability to pilot felt like a drunk person driving sometimes. The prior fuel usage and constant course corrections were all my fault.

"Brace yourselves!" Treasure shouted. Our ship rocked as another trail of lightning went by. The interface I was watching faded out as electricity rippled through. This bolt must have been close enough for some of the branches of energy to reach across to us. I frantically tried to figure out if we were full of negative or positive ions, but nothing came to mind. We had to be a bit of both with energy [Core]s, but portions of Advance Online didn't follow outright science.

I mean, I was a metal creature who stole minerals and elements from a ship in order to upgrade myself. We traveled through space into mass teleportation relays and came out the other side. Jeeves and I had fought a space eel. Our ship drove like a car without an Auto-NAV. Clearly the AIs that managed this place thought science only existed when it didn't interfere with the game elements.

"Ahhhh!" Eggman screamed. The rest of us watched our [Core] energy bars fluctuate rapidly. He huffed and pressed a button at his waist. Red blots appeared along one meaty arm, but after the ability activated they slowly vanished. He must have triggered a player potion or nano-machines, whatever future tech excuse allowed for health recovery.

Seconds later our ship was bumped, and this time the collision was unkind. "She's on us again." Treasure said after trying repeatedly to access her console. It flickered in and out.

"Don't we have shields?" I asked.

"Not with all this ambient energy," she responded.

"Your pal's right, we're doomed!" Eggman put a fist in the air and jumped up and down. His form shimmered a bit with a green glow.

"Fine! I'm not driving, and I'm tired of her following us!" If they didn't need me to drive this hunk of metal, I needed to try another means of keeping us safe. I unbuckled and pushed myself by Eggman's bulky form. He rolled into a wall and almost crushed Dusk and Jeeves.

"What are you doing, Hermes?!" the chubby player demanded. We were like two large pigs trying to pass each other in a narrow hallway.

"Being stupid, but we're going down one way or another, and I'm not letting her follow us anymore." My brain was already trying to plot out the calculations. At the right angle, there would be enough force for me to leap between ships. From there I could bring the [Stabinator] down. My abilities could easily take out an enemy's vessel, especially since our shields were constantly being drained by the lightning.

We had a small ladder in the back. I pushed up through the hatch. [Anchor] activated swiftly and my hand glommed onto the hull. Eggman screamed at me as oxygen whooshed out. Dusk chirped and clanked in behind me. It took less than a minute to get myself outside and seal the hatch behind me.

Jeeves' voice came out over the intercom, "Are you sure this is wise?"

"No! Try to stay close!" I wondered briefly what my sister would think about these next few actions. My head shook back and forth. I readied myself to jump. Space combat without the [Blink] skill felt exhilarating. If it hadn't been for Xin, Jeeves, and Treasure behind me I would have truly enjoyed this.

"That won't be a problem, Hermes, at this point gravity and propulsion will do the work for us. You have less than five minutes before we breach the clear zone," Treasure said over the system.

"Okay! Are we going that slow?" I was an idiot, one with a metal body who couldn't actually die in this game. Treasure and Jeeves might be able to resurrect me on the other side of this. Maybe, but this recurring nightmare of a boss had to go.

"Through this? We must not rush, it takes time to correct course and avoid the worst strikes," Treasure said.

"Ham?" our mostly broken enemy questioned. I was unsure what game mechanic justified her ability to break across our lines.

Both legs bunched, [Anchor] deactivated, and I leapt through space toward a looming [Stabinator]. The vessel's size was downright imposing but impossible to miss. My body slammed into the accelerating vehicle. I had no idea how fast we were going, or how much gravity was impacting us. I did know the action hurt as inertia sent me rolling around the hull.

Seriously Questionable Choices

Total Health Remaining: 85%

I landed on a spike's rounded edge, my back bent painfully over the damaged weapon. [Anchor] activated again as I slammed both hands down to try and get purchase before slipping away into the great unknown. A small chirp of noise came in right behind me. I looked up and saw Dusk, angry and upset at our slippery situation.

He had mastered traveling on the [Wayfarer Seven]'s hull. Auntie Backstab's ship was not nearly as easy to get around on for either of us. I wasn't sure where to start with my demolition plan. [Anchor] fluctuated wildly with each minor lightning strike passing by. Dusk seemed to be timing his hops between spikes, I followed him, only stopping when he did.

Our path was aiming for a hatch near the underside. Probably used by normal people to board the ship. We passed through huge dents, broken spike pits, and portions of the ship that was covered in tar.

"Treasure! Jeeves!" I shouted. They didn't respond. Our connection was full of static. Whatever space nonsense we were flying through felt like hail and ruined my senses. Only Dusk's bouts of chirping noise kept me together long enough to get to a hatch, and let myself inside Auntie Backstab's giant ship.

Inside looked nothing like the [Wayfarer's Hope]. Our ship was rather streamlined, with a few seats and displays for all the [Mechanoid]s to operate at. This vessel was like a cage where the wall had been pounded back repeatedly in spots. Layers of dents existed inside and a few actual chunks of a wall were missing.

I didn't have time to sneak. Crawling across the ship's hull had taken at least a minute. We were still moving forward rapidly. Inertia kept me balanced, but this ship had no gravity. If Auntie Backstab noticed me then this mission would turn sour. I felt unsure about breaking into this broken Captain's personal vessel. She clearly had anger issues and damned impressive willpower. Maybe she would have been perfectly fine if it weren't for Commander Queenshand's stance on the [Mistborn].

Thinking like that made this a million times worse. My hand went up toward one of the less damaged looking panels. Both eyes closed and I took a breath. [Material Conversion] went into action. A microwave ding and whir of noise accompanied the increase in mass. Fifteen seconds later and I was near the halfway point and managed to suck up an entire panel of wires.

"Ham? Is that Ham?" Auntie Backstab's giant body, which sat roughly twenty feet away, gradually started to turn.

"No," I whispered. Dusk turned and chirped. I wished that Auntie Backstab had been human, stopping her vessel from following us would have been simply by venting us into space. Instead, she was comprised of two races that didn't care about oxygen that much.

Not everything in her ship was made of metals. There appeared to be a sort of rubbery plastic mixed in with the walls. It might have been the only thing which prevented her constant abuse of the ship's inside from leaving lasting damage. My efforts neared the three-quarters mark of maximum mass before a lightning bolt disrupted everything. The enlarged body briefly stuttered as extra mass around me could no longer be supported.

It fell to the ground in clumps of metal clay. Warm heat spread through my feet and made me regret drinking too much water before getting into the ARC.

"Ham?" she said again. The chair didn't seem capable of turning all the way, gears ground and a clicking sound came forth.

"Has she slowed down?" I asked the others on my intercom, hoping that absorbing half the wiring back here had helped.

"Negative, Unit Hermes, and we will be through the cloud in minutes. Whatever you seek to do must be accomplished posthaste," Jeeves answered.

Dusk chirped. I couldn't wait for my energy to recover fully. How long had it been since we started? One minute? Two? How much longer did we have in this freakish storm with the [Stabinator] tearing us apart?

I became desperate and ran for Auntie Backstab's control panel. She looked out of it that maybe it was possible to remove her method of controlling this ship.

"Ham!" Seeing me move into her line of sight caused the giant to start shaking with eager rage. "Make you metal man soup!"

I ducked toward the ground and put both hands on a large panel's base. It looked important, and just seconds ago the half [Behemoth] had been pressing buttons while staring through a screen. [Material Conversion] dinged again and the panel started melting as metals were sucked out of the side. I tried to grip my hands tighter as she wiggled to get out of a large harness.

"You killed my ship!" Her foot kicked me in the gut and I lost part of my grip. The console she had been using started to fold like wet cardboard. I gave it a few swift kicks while trying to clutch my wounded side. Even a weakened Captain Backstab hurt like hell.

She got out of her harness, and I managed to absorb enough mass from the hull to spawn two Dusk shaped minions. I saw the real Dusk leap in as well, all three started tearing at the large creature.

"Hermes?" Treasure said over our communications.

"Here." I didn't have the breath for more than one word. Being a [Mechanoid] didn't override my normal mental instincts. When in outer space, I still took a breath frequently, when kicked I still gasped with pain.

"The enemy vessel shows all navigation controls are offline, you need to return quickly before we exit the cloud," she said.

I rolled away from a stomping foot. Lightning rippled by and my energy bar fell apart. The two metal Dusks turned into puddles and glommed onto Captain Backstab, slowing the giant down slightly. Her swings no longer had the strength to break them apart.

Dusk was busy clawing and stabbing. The boss' health bar had been overwhelming on the [Knuckle Dragger], but now it actually took damage.

I didn't have time to hang around and try to finish her off.

"Metal people will not escape!" She started stomping at the broken control panel. The ship lurched forward and the vessel's engines started rotating us wildly. Both myself and the boss were bouncing around the cabin.

Spikes hung loosely off of chains. I had no idea how this ship managed to spin while still retaining any sort of ability to chase the [Wayfarer's Hope], and I needed to get outside. It was too late, she grabbed my shoulder and dragged me slowly inward to that grossly deformed maw. My free arm clawed at the ship's side, trying to find purchase and keep using [Material Conversion]. The ability had saved me before, even now it was brokenly useful.

I threw out another metal Dusk as my energy rapidly recovered. The lightning bolts kept disrupting my [Core] but recovery was oddly fast. The small being of metal started biting. The boss' eyes glazed over as she tried to pull me in. My fingers were absorbing enough mass that the outside of the ship could be seen. Auntie Backstab was near death and kept trying to eat my arm as we tumbled around.

"Ham." She wasn't looking directly at me. The monstrous amalgamation operated on vague instinct to pursue food.

My fingers kept trying to grab a wall but slipped. The vessel's constant bouncing motion made it like trying to use chopsticks to pick up water. My [Messenger's Pet] managed to jab Auntie Backstab in the face repeatedly which delayed the monster. Another metal version of Dusk spawned from my [Mechanical Minion] ability. A fresh bolt of lightning disrupted my energy bar and the accumulated metal bits fell onto Auntie Backstab. As the metal re-solidified it seemed to trap large portions of the half [Behemoth]'s body.

Finally, she froze.

"Hermes! You must return!" All around us, things still spun. I managed to get back to the rear hatch and Dusk chirped behind me. I reached one arm out and tried to grab on as everything whirled. It was too much, too sickening.

"I won't be able to make it!" I shouted, hoping the game would automatically relay my voice to the other [Mechanoid]s.

"Hold on. I've got something for this," Eggman said through the comm. I could hear him banging around in the [Wayfarer's Hope]. "Ready for some nonsense?"

"What?" I put one hand in front of my face to block frozen pellets hailing on me. My world fell in upon itself. Vision distorted and my head felt pulled in two different directions. One eye saw the view from [Stabinator]'s outer hull, the other showed a confused face of Jeeves. I closed both eyes as my gut wrenched and noise about me shifted.

The large man laughed. "Ahhh, I've always wanted to save someone. Hehehe."

Somehow Eggman and I had swapped locations. I panicked and tried to figure out why another player, one I had barely known, risked his life for mine. "Will you be okay?" I asked across our comm channels.

"Probably! I've got a few toys to try out! I'll see you below, or not! Hehehe." Eggman sounded a bit upset but managed to put out a good laugh.

"Jeeves?" I huffed rapidly. That had felt weird, similar to being summoned to the [Red Imp] body months ago. The process only lacked a kaleidoscope of colors swirling around me.

"No time, we must complete this pattern before ejecting," Jeeves said. Its fingers were poking at a screen invisible to me. That had to be a player interface that the AI was digging through.

"Eject?" My brain couldn't wrap itself around the idea immediately. Auntie Backstab's spinning vessel must have done more damage than expected.

"Like we did for the Leviathan," Jeeves said. Our vessel jerked again. The gravity was low, but I could feel its pull as we dropped another ten feet. Engines sputtered on either side trying to hold us aloft.

"Our ship won't make it. We'll be taking a damaged engine core and attempting to life raft. Even now we're barely fighting off the downward pull." Treasure pointed to a large spike in the hull. It was heavy enough to be tearing away at one side of the ship. No portion of our vessel had come out unscathed.

"It's a simple pattern, and we don't have time for more." Treasure was rushing by. Her hands glowed with a golden light and the walls of our craft were being remade into their new shape.

I pressed against a wall as Jeeves ran over to help out Treasure. They were busy trying to construct a blue engine like before.

"Okay." I nodded hastily and looked at the blue raft. This resembled our earlier one almost to a tee. Round, like an upside down cone with a ring for holding onto. "Will this be enough?"

"Landing will be tough, there's just enough gravity to cause serious damage," Treasure said. A frown seemed etched on her face and the tired voice was winning the [Mechanoid] duet.

"What if I lose mass? Will that slow us down?" I was talking fast, offering to toss half a dozen Dusk clones out the window. One hand reached up to rub the original's head. He sat there chirping excessively at me and none of it made sense.

"Mass does not impact acceleration, only force," Jeeves said. "By using the engine we will attempt to cancel out some of the acceleration as we descend."

"What about a wingsuit, glider, flat board? Can we do anything quick enough?" I tried to figure out how much the three of us would weigh all together. Seven hundred pounds? That sounded right. That human from the bar had been ready to lift and toss me through the doorway, so it couldn't be too insane. Not in a fresh game like this, where humans were average, not exceptional in any skill.

"Like a panel? If it were thin enough, it might catch, but it would be fragile, we would tip unless providing it balance. Maybe we could wire the engines?" Jeeves said. Even now we were getting ready to break through the final descent. I looked out one of the large tears in our ship and saw a landscape of obsidian looking rocks below. Burned sand maybe? Were we flying over what had once been a volcanic layer?

"Make the suit, and modify me, Pattern Smith's can do that, right? I gain mass, we balance, attach an engine to the bottom to break our descent. If nothing else I can act like a cushion?" I felt desperate trying to figure out a way through. Our ship was ruined, completely. The wing was tearing off as we debated. Soon we would go into a complete spin and the remaining vessel abilities wouldn't be able to keep us afloat.

"Everything has a breaking point, Unit Hermes," Jeeves said gradually. Its eyes stared directly at me as if trying to make me feel how ridiculous the statement was. I blinked and shook my head. The idea of using a jet at the last minute to try and cancel our fall was just as mad, but this way we would have both.

"Perhaps. We might be able to synchronize with the increased durability of your larger form. If nothing else, it will be harder to break." She nodded. "If you are willing to sacrifice yourself."

"Neat. Let's do it." I had been walking into a lot of pain since playing this game. Still, suffering all this was worth it to recover Xin. My mind had completely adapted to the idea of virtual damage not being anywhere near the kind of lingering agony that real life came with.

I tried to remember the durability of metals that fell. Only Galileo's experiment with a marble and bowling ball came to mind. Two different sized objects of the same material, falling from the same height would reach the bottom at the same time.

Treasure shuffled around the ship. Parts of our floor looked to be shimmering and forming thicker lines. Jeeves nodded and grabbed at pieces around the room. We didn't have much to work with, and every time we adjusted the vehicle we started slipping.

Finally, she motioned to the floor. "Quickly, Hermes! Absorb what you can from the ceiling and lay here. Stretch out to touch these points." Fingers jabbed at small glowing points. "Unit Jeeves, we need that engine, put it here! There are vents on the bottom that should spread out our force."

We were going to try and form a human hang-glider using some jerry-rigged hunk of metal. Low enough gravity might make this insane trip possible. I couldn't imagine doing this on an original version of Earth.

I grabbed at the ceiling and activated the [Material Conversion] ability once more. We were lucky to be outside the lightning bolt forming zone. The air hung heavy with energy. My bar went away as mass increased. Once at maximum, I sighed and tried not to think about how improbable this whole situation was.

"This is about the extent of what we can manage. I had wished to repair the entire vessel, but there's simply not enough time, and with only two Pattern Smith cores we could never modify an entire ship in time," she said, her voices sounded extremely tired now.

While she spoke our vessel started losing altitude. We tilted to one side abruptly as the wing tore away. Jeeves stepped in behind me and quickly set in the small blue cone he had been working on. At some point, the two [Mechanoid]s had built a holster for where my legs would go. It clinked into place at the back of end our glider. Treasure laid down and locked her arms into a handhold. Jeeves twisted the blue cone into place and grabbed his own slots. For a moment, I felt stunned that these two had invented such an item after only a minute of conversation.

"Dropping, keep us steady, Hermes," she said. The panel fell out of the [Wayfarer's Hope] like a cutout simply falling out of a large piece of paper. Only instead of paper, it was a plane, and instead of a cutout, we were on a swiftly constructed panel of metal.

The main ship lifted away and our panel fired off blasts of energy as the remaining engine fought to keep us steady. I kept my hands and legs in place and tilted as forces drove me around. This was far worse than flying as the [Red Imp]. Jeeves weighed slightly more than Treasure so I had to twist to the left.

All of us fell downward toward the center. Our spaceship was in pieces. The [Stabinator] fell nearby. Auntie Backstab's large body stood there dully in the middle, former Dusk critters turned her into a metal gilded statue. The [Stabinator] automatically fired off weakened engines, the ones still functioning after my [Material Conversion] tore through portions of it.

"Hang on!" I shouted.

I tried to prepare myself like a cushion against the ground. We were all made of metal, and maybe if I took the impact first they would survive. My mass was easily four times the old size. Stretched out arms held the flattened hunk of metal. Risking my life to keep Jeeves safe might just kill me this time. We had no parachutes, only a long slab that I was holding down the edges of while engines fired off below trying to keep us stable.

"This is insane!" Jeeves shouted. Its actual words were lost as gravity pulled us down. Only the [Mechanoid] method of communication could be understood.

"Live a little!" I tried to joke, but my heart wasn't in it.

We were on course to collide with a platform that looked like polished stone, or a flattened river meandering through the mountains. Our current course set us toward hillsides that surrounded the path.

I took a breath, trying to regulate my heartbeat. The sound encompassed everything. Another breath passed my lips, then one more. This wasn't the sound of me breathing in a game, I could actually hear myself outside the ARC trying to suck in lungfuls of air and not die of fright.

Falling. We were falling. I wasn't piggybacking on my niece's ARC with a Second Player helm. This was me. How had she handled the drop? By watching the sky. My head turned to look over my shoulder to look out at space. Trying to find a measure of peace in what might be the biggest failure of my life. Jeeves and Treasure were holding hands awkwardly over my back. They spoke words that I couldn't hear.

Air. We were badly gliding through an atmosphere. The [Wayfarer's Hope] and [Stabinator] both veered off further into the electricity generating clouds. Whistling grew louder. I turned my head around and saw Jeeves and Treasure both staring at me. For a moment, they looked so tiny and helpless. I wondered briefly, what would it have been like to be a father? Would it be like this? Worried that you were meant to be the strong one, while feeling utterly helpless against the challenges ahead?

"Final push!" Treasure shouted. Pressure crushed against my gut. Our descent slowed notably but not enough. We veered slightly onto one of the sharp mountain ridges. Both Treasure and Jeeves had somehow collapsed over my back. My arms felt bent backward. Metal grinding overwhelmed my hearing and a fresh dose of pain drove my eyesight blurry. I gasped. We slid, then rolled, then tumbled downward. Finally, the gray space of near death took over my screen

Hit Rock Bottom

Total Health Remaining: 1.0%

It felt blissfully quick. I took a few seconds to glance around at the empty landscape of near [Mechanoid] afterlife. I felt proud and sad at the same time. Sad that my own whims brought things to this point, and proud that not once had I turned away. This was my trial of Orpheus, my ascent to bring her back. Like Xin said during our short time together, I had to keep moving forward toward the goal. To look back and worry about the madness of this course would invite failure.

Fading in were two other [Mechanoid]s, Ruby, and Aqua. They spared no time for conversational chatter. I saw the red one nod slowly, and our androgynous blue companion wore a serene expression. I tried to wave but they were already vanishing, and in their wake a new message displayed.

Key units respect reward:

- +30 [Respect]
- Item: [Aqua's Key]
- Item: [Ruby's Key]

Session Sixty Four – Everyone Matters

I got a pop-up notice from Jeeves asking to start repairs on my character rather quickly. Light whooshed around me and presented a blackened landscape. My neck refused to turn which forced me to stare at an endless path winding through obsidian mountains. Above the horizon line sat a purplish haze of lightning and hanging water existed. There was so much of it, and we had survived the descent through this broken planets orbit.

My voice didn't work right. Health and mana bars were lined with static, like watching a television show through visual scramblers. Moments of clarity showed a [Repair]ing status and almost empty health bar slowly recovering. Treasure sat nearby trying to funnel our emergency life raft into [Mechanoid] body parts.

"Can you hear me?" she said at least four times.

"Yes." I felt relief as audio stopped sounding scratchy. "Did we all make it?"

"Affirmative, Unit Hermes." Jeeves nodded.

I tried to move one arm, but it felt asleep. My legs weren't responding, but the [Repair] process helped. Present warmth wormed a trail down both limbs. The lines of green and iron that laced my being were coming together into a solid line.

"We must recover, even a little, then proceed down the path with haste," Treasure said. Her own body was undergoing a similar recovery process. As my visual interface cleared it became obvious how badly the other two were hurt. Using my body as a buffer hadn't saved them. Part of me wondered why our ship couldn't have just landed rapidly, but a damaged wing probably screwed up the descent.

Maybe it had something to do with the gravity.

"Dusk? Did Dusk make it?" I asked, trying to complete my mental inventory. The little guy must be around somewhere, he always was. I don't think he had ever actually died on me, but that fall was huge and the creature had no wings in this game. It felt like our chances at success were slipping.

"I have not seen your companion, Unit Hermes," said Jeeves, the butler voice came out on top.

My eyes closed. Where had the [Messenger's Pet] ended up? I didn't know how to figure out an answer, but usually, Dusk could take care of himself. I hoped.

"Ahead. The Mistborn should be about two miles down the path," the female [Mechanoid] said. Her hand pointed to my left.

My neck was finally functional. The bars were looking solid. I pushed up with one working arm to glance around. Our poor glider was flowing like a metal IV into my arm. Our blue engine was being reconfigured into a weapon by Jeeves. It looked like a cannon. The was a path forward in the direction Treasure pointed, and one that went in an opposite direction. We were on a long featureless pathway cutting through mountains. It made no sense, but part of me assumed it was some designer's idea of a captivating setting.

I wondered if this was the underworld. No, my mind was mixing up myth and virtual reality. Still, there was no reason they couldn't reflect each other.

Once again I wished that this entire situation hadn't been so serious. These games, both Continue, and Advance would have been fun to just play, without stakes or so much personal investment. Maybe once I recovered Xin we could start somewhere together, and go on adventures like Beth did. Could we make it to the moon in Continue?

The happy thoughts kept me distracted as Treasure and Jeeves finished the [Repair] process. My display didn't include timers anymore. We might be too late for the [Mistborn] but there was no way to tell. I only knew we needed to be in top shape to deal with Commander Queenshand and the players with her.

"We must go soon," Jeeves said.

"Yes, Unit Hermes. This is your quest, and time is of the essence," the gold and silver female responded.

My resulting smile felt weak and uncertain. I was trying not to feel fatalistic. This was the third time trying to get close to Xin. The first had put me into old man Carver's body. The second a [Red Imp] who's sad little existence centered on offing another player. Now I was a space robot chasing a ghost to bring back a computerized dead woman.

"Let's go." I nodded trying to not let my actions be hindered by thought. Standing up hurt. The wounds across my body had expanded to include fracture lines that pulsed with dark green. Fingers ran across a line that trailed down one arm.

[Mechanoid]s wore their scars on every inch of their frames. These bodies may have been temporary. My metal form might be able to roll out weapons and bulk up to include armor, but greater damage didn't seem to go away. If I were to really die, as a character, would these wounds go away? Would I be washed clean of this damage?

My mind wandered further away. Xin had told part of Orpheus' story. His wife had died too soon, as had my fiancée. He dared to go to the underworld to bring her back. This future nightmare of Earth felt like a land of the dead to me. I not was Orpheus and a lyre was not my weapon.

There were two paths to take from our crash zone. One went forward, toward a challenge unknown. The other went away. I could not fail like Orpheus. To me, there was no path back.

I walked forward. Treasure and Jeeves turned together, hand in hand and could be heard walking behind me. My eyes scanned around the jagged peaks looming over either side, watching for monsters or crazy beasts that might haunt this place. But I refused to look back. It felt like a second chance where I had failed with Requiem.

"We don't have enough time. Are you sure walking unhurriedly is wise?" Jeeves said.

Elizabeth Legate: Uncleeeee. That Eggman player has a stream online. It took an hour to find it. He's fighting some other players I've never seen. A short guy, and a big green rock.

Elizabeth Legate: Your little four armed guy is there too. Mom says run faster, that you looked goofy falling, and it hurt to watch. She's hiding under the blankets.

I stared at my niece's message. Looking for an Advance Online player's video feed would never have occurred to me. Beth searching for it was just another layer away in the land of possibilities. Plus this Eggman guy didn't seem like the sort to be relaying a video. What would it mean if he watched me resurrect Xin? What would his viewers think?

The very idea made me sick.

Grant Legate: Thanks, Munchkin. Tell your mom I'm okay.

Elizabeth Legate: She knows. Good luck with whatever this is.

"Can you two run?" I asked them.

"We will, Unit Hermes," Treasure said, sounding sweeter than normal. Maybe it was happiness. I hoped it was because she and Jeeves had reached some unspoken agreement. They were a bright spot in my insane quest.

"Eggman survived," I said as we picked up speed. Moving this bigger body in full gravity placed an unexpected strain on me. The air here felt heavier than the spaceship's or [Offbeat Point]. Each footfall took more energy than the one before.

"Were you advised this by an outside source?" the AI questioned me.

I briefly thought about a way to cover up the situation for Treasure but came up empty. After another few yards, I said, "Beth. She sent me a message."

"More of your 'nature of reality talk'?" Treasure sounded irritated at our conversation.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Treasure, than are dreamt of in our consortium." Jeeves must have made a funny motion with the butchered quote because Treasure started laughing.

"Where's that from?" I asked the AI. Our conversation felt like a pleasant distraction from the looming conflict. The air had grown denser. There was a light in the distance like a great bonfire or beacon sat around the corner. Fighting could be heard.

"The original quote is from Hamlet, he spoke to a friend named Horatio." Jeeves didn't huff or sound winded. [Mechanoid] bodies were very neat in many ways. "Horatio was considered rational and did not believe in ghosts."

"You like Hamlet?" I hadn't expected Jeeves to be a fan of any older plays. The original Hal Pal self knew a lot of different information but rarely quoted people.

"I identify with numerous old works. They are easy to remember with my limited access to, memories from the old world." Jeeves corrected its statement partway through. "For instance, with this player Eggman, the quote 'misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows' comes to mind."

"That it does." I felt happy knowing Jeeves was with me, even if we were both being insanely foolish. Without my misery, I wouldn't have met Shazam, or Dusk, Hal Pal or the others. Each one was interesting in their own way.

[Mechanoid]s were each odd in a different way. Aqua had its forever smile, then there was the grumpy elder Emerald. I wondered about the four keys I had been given but didn't have time to sort through these latest two. They didn't have abilities or items associated.

"Our headlong dive into danger makes me think of another quote-" Jeeves paused and put the butler voice on full blast, "-'cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once'."

Treasure giggled again at Jeeves' attempt to be supportive. I couldn't help but think of my own recent trip to the hospital. The two attempts at ending my life before that. In many ways losing Xin had made weakness apparent.

"Does that make me a coward?" The question escaped me before I could stop it. I was better dammit. This entire adventure clearly demonstrated me moving forward and I needed to keep going.

"You have not died yet, Unit Hermes," Treasure stated as we ran. "Dwelling on a long dead man's beliefs in how you should act is comical at best, more so when that man is a fiction quoted without context."

"She is right, I misspoke myself."

"No. Maybe you were talking about your own bravery, and not me. Though I hope you don't taste death at all," I said. We kept traveling along the flattened land. There were no hills or dips. We were free of monsters and obstacles. The light brightened as we closed the last mile.

I could hear Dusk. He sounded angry, worse than I had ever heard him. Even my fight as old man Carver against the Ink Nightmare beast hadn't upset the little guy.

"Come on!" I poured extra energy into running faster. Our footsteps echoed around the valley.

"Unit Hermes, once we arrive, it will be up to you to guide us," the female behind me said. Her footsteps were lightest against the ground.

"Why me?"

"You have four keys. Leadership of our small consortium is unquestionably yours," Treasure said.

"We are here to support you," Jeeves responded. Both of its voices sounded worried. The vocal tones only echoed what was inside me. Events were rushing to a conclusion and the results were probably undesirable.

We should have started running sooner. We should have brought more people. I should have been more ruthless. Wasted hours had been spent working and sleeping. Another fifteen points in [Brawn] or [Speed] might have made a huge different. A long list of 'what ifs' plagued me during the run.

Humming filled the air. It sounded like a piano's high note was being held down. Intermixed with the single note was Dusk's cries, Eggman's shouts of doom, and other noises.

"There!" Jeeves shouted.

"I'll kill you, Jolly Green!" Eggman shouted. "Betray me! You'll suffer!"

"You'll die here," the large wall of mud and plant said. Giant veiny arms were holding lights of yellow and green. They slammed together and channeled an ability. Obsidian flooring lifted, disturbing the serene smoothness of the path we had been traveling.

I kept looking around. The other two would be waiting for me to join the fray and I was no master strategist. Dusk sat on a wall hissing and spitting. He showed no awareness of my arrival. I looked at his target, two people stood together.

The [Mistborn] sat suspended in a beam of light. Three or four images of her were hanging in wait. Each opaque version was larger than the last. Their eyes were unfocused, hands spread wide, and heads laid back. Her mouth sat open and words poured forth.

I started running faster. The [Mistborn] was just out of reach.

"Make thy choice," one image said. Her voice carried across the entire area. Seconds later another one of the [Mistborn]s said, "Chose who you will." The third and fourth both spoke but were inaudible.

"Do it! You know the words, and I'll get you any reward you want if this works!" Commander Queenshand was yelling at a player, TheLittleMan, member of the [Teeny] race.

MrJohnson, that was the [Behemoth] player's name. He was facing off against Eggman. An angry Dusk was spitting globs of green acid toward Commander Queenshand. The [Messenger's Pet] felt no remorse over attacking an enemy.

"What about my ship? What about all the credits you promised me?" TheLittleMan sounded worried. His eyes kept glancing around the battlefield.

"You!?" MrJohnson shouted as green energy squirreled around. The distraction caused him to miss an explosive grenade which blew off a leg. The giant player howled.

"Doooooomed!" Eggman shouted.

Commander Queenshand slapped away a bright green snot ball from Dusk. An energy field around her fist shimmered orange as the liquid was neutralized. Dusk hissed and spat again.

"Anything! Just finish it!" the Commander yelled.

I tried to run faster, but we were still back quite a ways. Eggman was flying around with a goofy looking jetpack. Impossibly large items were yanked out of the player's small pockets. One hand fired blue laser beams. The other tossed explosives.

"You promised!" TheLittleMan shouted then turned toward the [Mistborn]. Both his hands went up and he started to yell at the ghostly woman. "Mistborn!"

Dusk tried to spit at the player this time, but Commander Queenshand hurriedly got in the way and batted the acid ball to pieces.

"Do it!" the woman shouted. All these tribulations and there was no sign of wear and tear on her. Her armor looked impeccable. Commander Queenshand's helmet from before was missing.

"I've chosen!" TheLittleMan shouted.

"Help Eggman, then catch up with me," I called to the other two [Mechanoid]s. My feet started pounding a path toward the tiny player. Treasure and Jeeves went toward our human ally.

Had they really just reached this point? Again my mind wondered why we didn't start running right away. We should have tried to glide down straight to the [Mistborn]. So many other ideas flashed through my head.

"King Titus! I want to restore King Titus!" TheLittleMan shouted.

There was a gong of noise. Lightning crackled in all directions up above. Once, twice, and a third time. Whatever they had set into motion was starting.

"I'm taking you with me!" MrJohnson yelled. His hands glowed once more. This time, they slammed into his body, energy flooded the [Behemoth]'s form. He charged across.

"Excellently done." Commander Queenshand turned and stabbed the tiny player in the back. His health dropped to zero in time with a rocket of explosions to the left.

Party member [Human] Eggman: deceased

The energy racing above stopped. I halted my dash and looked around. Eggman had been scattered into pieces along with MrJohnson. A pair of goggles that had once been on the player's head served as the only recognizable left over. Light crashed around the [Mistborn] in waves. My breath came in gasps. Everything was falling apart.

"What have you done?" I stared at the Commander. She had betrayed the player immediately after he provided a name. Never before had I seen such a backstabbing NPC.

"You were too slow. A better soldier would have used every resource. A good soldier does anything for their King." Commander Queenshand lifted her head. The woman was looking down on all of us, as if we were nothing more than ants, or chess pieces on a board to be thrown away.

"All this death, your men, betraying those players, stealing the Mistborn, just to bring back one man." I didn't know what would drive anyone, AI or human, to throw away so many lives.

Or maybe I did. Commander Queenshand was after the same thing I was. A chance to bring back someone important. We just drew the line at very different places. Ruthlessness was not a trait we shared, nor would I ever want to have that look in my eyes. All of those people, for one man.

"Our best hope at defeating the enemies! I've set in motion events that will save more lives than I've lost!" Commander Queenshand pointed a finger at me. She curled up a fist and gears appeared around the edges. The holographic orange device surrounding her limb exuded danger.

"Hundreds dead, for one man," I said, stuttering over the words. We had taken different roads. She was willing to lose men, I had badly negotiated a cease-fire.

"Not a mere man! A king! A ruler who could lead our planet better than those squabbling brats of his! Weak brats, like their mother. They are not prepared for the storm to come!" she was rambling.

Treasure and Jeeves were recovering from the blast. They appeared to be trying to find their legs. Dusk was coming down the mountain and hissing in displeasure.

My face drained. [Mechanoid]s didn't have blood, but energy from our [Core]s felt similar enough. Real me, the one lying inside an ARC device was getting worked up. I tried hard to find my happy place, but it wasn't clicking like normal. Thudding crawled into both ears. Commander Queenshand was ranting, but the words were difficult to distinguish.

All this work for Xin, and I had failed.

"A good soldier knows who to attack first!" The Commander struck during my self-reflective hesitation. Both her legs turned into blurs of motion, faster than any NPC I had ever seen. More of the orange and holographic mechanics appeared.

Dread overpowered the other emotions. My eyes glanced to the right, seeing where Commander Queenshand was going. Jeeves' face looked pained while Treasure tried to awkwardly [Repair] a detached leg. The AI was hopping in place, not watching the battle. Hal Pal, in any form, had never been a fighter.

"Look out!" I started running to intercept her. Jeeves' eyes went wide. Its body turned toward Treasure and pushed the gold and silver [Mechanoid] away.

In a flash of motion, Commander Queenshand was next to Jeeves. I felt like the [Awareness Heightening] skill kicked in only to help me watch these events in slow motion. Commander Queenshand's clenched fist came up, orange transparent gears spinning into existence.

She jabbed on with one hand, and [Mechanoid] body parts flew off in chunks. Commander Queenshand moved with a boxer's instep and gave my friend an uppercut. I watched the former Hal Pal AI shatter. Its health bar dropped and as dying cries came from the butler and nanny voices.

Party member [Mechanoid] Jeeves: deceased

"Ahhhhh!" Treasure screamed. Her body was still falling. One of the woman's arms lifted as the other pressed buttons on her wrist device. Dusk was similarly hissing in outrage, his tiny body leapt into the air.

Old habits die hard. I frantically tried to imagine [Blink]ing next to them. [Morrigu's Gift] should have been in my hand. The large two-handed sword of William Carver and my [Barricade] skill could easily deflect the attack. Failure resulted on all three counts.

I had none of those items. Instead, I reached out with one hand and stumbled forward. Treasure's wrist shot lights at the Commander. I saw the aura of orange flicker, pieces shattered away, but this enemy leader was exceedingly strong. Treasure had never been a fighter either, it wasn't in her [Core].

It was in mine. I got ahold of myself and switched to a large cannon blaster. One shot would drain all my energy. Treasure's face was wide with anger. In the time it took me to transform my weapon loadout, Commander Queenshand had already punched through Treasure's head. The [Mechanoid] popped like a pinata, wisps of smoke drifted off of the female human's orange lined fist.

Party member [Mechanoid] Treasure: deceased

I fired anyway. I didn't know what else to do. The blonde's head whipped in my direction. Her shoulder lifted and arm curled. Orange holograms once again flared to life in the form of a round shield.

She glared at me. Dusk landed on her back. The woman spun around and popped a blade out of its sheath and jammed it into the [Messenger's Pet] in one smooth motion. He bit, spit, and clawed with all four arms. The Commander's shields of orange were shattering further. Her health remained untouched. She twisted the blade while I tried to fire off one more large blast from the cannon.

Companion [Messenger's Pet] Dusk: deceased

It wasn't enough to save Dusk. He shattered in a spark of light and energy. I hadn't saved anyone. I lost myself for a moment. In less than thirty seconds the woman had decimated all those who stood by me. It was my worst fear realized. All the deep-seated worry that had plagued me for days came to pass. Those I cared for were gone once more.

Commander Queenshand tried to fire up the holograms around her legs, the ones that allowed such insane bursts of speed. An image of gears came in but faded rapidly. For a moment, the woman stared at her legs then shrugged. She stomped toward me.

Those around me always seemed to pay a price for my inability. First Xin, I should have made her skip the train. My sister, putting up with the repeated suicide attempts. Beth, learning all about my issues was another mistake.

This woman was responsible for all the latest failures. Lightning crashed above, lighting up the localized destruction for me to see. My eyes zipped to each fallen body in turn. It felt like the ARC synchronization skipped, imagery froze, my head tried to push it all away for only a moment.

Then rage solidified. This time, when Xin was taken away, I had a reason. A focus and it hadn't just been the possibility of her. It was Jeeves, Dusk, and Treasure. All of them gone because of her, a woman willing to stab someone in the back to achieve her goals.

"You took away my wife!" I shouted as lightning crackled above. The cannon shifted to my heavy Gatling gun. Another round of energy drained away as bolts slammed into her orange shield.

Numerous pieces chipped off, but it still held strong. Her armor finally showed signs of damage from Dusk's vicious clawing. Portions around her belly and shoulder were adorned with long streaks going through to skin.

"Weak!" Her hand curled in front and a giant orange shield popped up. The second set of blasts from my Gatling gun vanished into it, shattering additional holographic gears.

"You took away my friends!" I yelled. The giant gun was tossed to one side. It transformed into miniature Dusks and they ran toward her.

"Because you're weak! A coward!" she shouted. Her hand glowed orange and she bashed one of the metal Dusks hard.

My hand reached down in an attempt to activate [Material Conversion]. The microwave noise dinged, but my energy kept going up. Mass stayed constant. There might not be enough material in here for me to absorb, or this wasn't metal at all. Obsidian should have been comprised of iron and other elements.

I couldn't see a way through but kept trying. Four more Dusks went out. My body turned into a tiny creature compared to the looming Commander Queenshand. I felt like a child standing against a demon. David versus Goliath. An ant against her boot.

The world around us was falling apart. Energy above kept zipping through purple mist in waves. Thunder rolled and overpowered us. This was hell, this was the underworld, and I was fighting a losing battle.

My head hurt. The world around me felt disturbingly alien. A nightmare landscape where every passing second drove home painful imagery. I would go down swinging, Voices, game creators, and my own past be damned. Cowardice would never be an option again.

Two of the [Mechanical Minion]s tore into her shield. It had finally shattered, but her fist dealt excessive damage. She destroyed one, and another attacked. I could see her health bar dipping.

I had spent too much mass on the army of Dusks. My wrist lifted up, fingers tipped down, and weak blasts went off. One by one the [Mechanical Minion]s bit at her armor. They each got a few good bites in before being punched into a million pieces.

I tried to activate the fourth ability, [Camouflage Program]. My body shimmered briefly with green. This skill wasn't useful in a blackened landscape like this one. The laser blasts kept going off. By the time Commander Queenshand got close enough to swing she was at half health.

It wasn't enough.

I panicked and tried to use [Blink] once more. The ability of my prior game world would have saved me. [Morrigu's Gift] and [Morrigu's Echo] would have easily displaced that shield. Here, though, in this world, I had been doomed from the start.

Then the universe tilted like someone changed the channel. There was no other way to phrase it. Lightning above still flickered. Obsidian still existed around me, but it felt like the science fiction scenery sloughed off. This floating piece of earth became an island, and all around a storm raged.

Once more I tried [Blink], only this time the ability worked. My body snapped into being right behind Commander Queenshand. I swung around, feeling a level of grace and ability that had been missing since my banishment from Continue Online. The weapon in my grip lashed out automatically. Similar to how I had done thousands of times before. Everything tilted back. It had only been a few seconds before science fiction and space odysseys ruled again.

My body, shorter by far, sat perched on the woman's back. Two streams of light came over of the metal hilt in my hand. Both eyes shook as I followed the lasers down and saw where they drove through her. The weapon had pierced her from shoulder to stomach.

[Mechanoid] body parts lay all around. Eggman and MrJohnson were in pieces. Commander Queenshand grasped at the twin lasers sticking out of her chest. Orange holograms fragmented as the woman tried to grip the beams of solid energy. She attempted to take in a lungful of air.

Her head turned just enough for me to see one outraged eye. I stared as the light of consciousness drifted away and she lost focus. The health bar shattered and a message popped up telling me I had killed a key NPC. My fingers lost their hold as we fell forward.

Elizabeth Legate: Uncle Grant? What just happened?

My belly shook. Bile crept upwards. That hadn't been a player who might resurrect. She didn't feel the same as a monster or dungeon creature. The creed I tried to follow of letting humanoid NPCs live their lives in peace had been violated. I had killed in rage.

Jeeves was dead. Treasure had followed rapidly. Dusk had been killed in this game. Xin's chance at resurrection vanished. Every crushing failure piled together resulted in one irrefutable fact. I was capable of murder when pushed this far. Virtual or not, Commander Queenshand had been alive.

Xin had faith that I wasn't a killer, and this just violated it. I knelt on the ground and tried to hold myself together. No sound existed beyond the lightning crackling overhead. Frozen rain formed an endless cloud up above. Pieces of my companions littered the area.

My head jerked upwards quickly. We were in a digital world. This was all virtual and generated by artificial intelligences. We were inside the ARC, but that didn't matter. This mess needed to be fixed. Successive failures on so many counts could be undone, maybe. I had to hope.

Elizabeth Legate: Grant?

This last message came from my slightly older twin sister. She was worried, but my mind was elsewhere. I rapidly paced through twists and turns of my recent experiences, evaluated the choices made since coming to Advance Online. Each moment was turned over and compared. Five minutes, ten, maybe more time passed as I sat there at the heart of a dead world.

Events came together to form a large picture. The players I had encountered. The [Mistborn]. Eggman and his Continue Online counterpart, KeylessLock. Delivering a message to the ogre version of Auntie Backstab. The army following Shazam. My own autopilot among them. Dusk. Jeeves. Starting on the [Wayfarer Seven].

There were too many puzzle pieces for a human hand. Multiple occurrences pointed to more than simple coincidence. A final fact slid into position. All of this started with letters from my [Messenger's Tube]. There was only one set of beings in existence that might be able to manipulate so many variables to reach this point.

Among all my self-reflection revelations was one more emotion. Anger. I was so god damned angry with the Voices. To them, my struggles were a test, a challenge like William Carver and Requiem Mass had been.

"Activate NPC Conspiracy, username, Hermes." The words slipped out, and around me, everything changed.

Session Sixty Five – The Plea of Orpheus

The world inside my ARC had changed. Rocky cliffs and purple lightning clouds up above had faded. A ruined landscape made of my companions' and enemy's bodies vanished. The gray space of [Mechanoid] afterlife sat there waiting.

"Awaiting input," the ARC said in its calm feminine tone.

I didn't know how to proceed. There wasn't a box to start screaming at. My [Mechanoid] body had faded only to be replaced by the virtual Grant avatar. It felt slightly slimmer and full of more energy than the version of me before Continue Online.

"The Voices!" I shouted up at my ARC. My body literally lay inside an ARC bed, my mind within the ARC machine, but for some reason, the presence always seemed to exist above me.

"Please provide further detail for your request."

"I want to speak to all the Voices!" Picking a specific Voice didn't matter. They were all in on this together. There was no way that one of them would sneak around and start a plot without the others being involved.

The room abruptly tore in two, as if paper were being ripped endlessly. My body spun as if an old fashion dryer were trying to wring me out. Hands went out to each side in an effort to find stability. Though the horizon flipped end over end wildly my feet stayed firm.

My eyes drifted to one side of the room. Once again I sat oddly between virtual realities. Decorating each side was a backdrop adorned with an old heraldic shield.

The clear blackened space of Continue Online's world was given a man's outline, in his hands, a giant sword pointed down into the ground. The [Mechanoid] gray afterlife sat on the left. Its symbol was a large metal man pointing a Gatling gun toward foes unseen.

These two pictures on either side of the room resembled my characters between the two games. My feet sat pinned in both worlds. Straddling the same border I stood in was an ARC. It felt still, almost like the body inside were dead. I half expected roses to be littered against the bedside in tribute.

A being appeared in the blackness of Continue Online's half. First the Cheshire's grin, then a motley pattern of clothes. Last was the hat, split into ends with bells hanging off. My least favorite Voice had answered the call first.

"What's here? The portrait of a blinking idiot!" the Voice clacked at me. Its words sounded neither male or female, but rather like a doll being wound up. No teeth or eyes lay beneath the mask, only a grin, and deep sunken eyes.

"Where are the others?"

"A blinking idiot who can't even use his gifts correctly. Do you not remember the words, dear Hermes? Is yon vessel the real world?" the Jester asked. One slender hand pointed toward the ARC sitting ten feet away.

"Isn't it?" I snapped at the Jester. For once the creature's mocking presence didn't upset me. Irritation and fresh anger overrode all prudence.

"Do you think me a fool? I am not a monkey here merely to answer your tantrum demands," the Voice said.

"It's about time I got answers."

Both the creature's hands went up. Jingles accompanied the movement. The Jester's face turned and an elongated nose stuck out comically. It said, "Then look to the East."

James, a heavyset black man who served as my personal Voice, faded in near the ARC. He stared down at the figure inside and smiled in my direction. There was a twitch of one cheek that hinted at amusement.

"Two realities, both alike in dignity, in your fair ARC where we lay our scene," James said with a hand up in the air. He held back a chuckle that threatened to make his belly quake. "From petty desire break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

I blinked a few times trying to understand what James was saying. This made no sense, and it wasn't how my usage of this ability was meant to go. It sounded like they were both quoting plays at me like Jeeves had just moments before being punched clean through.

Dammit. Jeeves had died for me because I couldn't move fast enough in a giant metal body. Commander Queenshand could have easily killed me instead with that kind of power, but she chose to pick off all the weaker party members.

"James!" I shouted at him and tried to move. Neither foot responded, instead I felt frozen, stuck with a leg standing in the gray and the black. "What's going on!?"

"All the world's a game, and the humans merely players; they log on in, and they log on out, and one man in his time plays many characters," James spoke and waved his arms around in emphasis.

"Why do all this?!" my yell echoed across the landscape. It felt like there were two, maybe three of me shouting. The ARC's feedback made my head spin. Their acting and words were throwing me off.

"Witless fool. Did you think you were the only actor upon this stage?" The Jester clacked with laughter. Its form wandered through the dark half.

"Oh, happy dagger!" The Temptress suddenly appeared. Reddened curves teased from the Continue Online side. She was close, breathing hotly upon my neck. Her quick and playful growl sent shivers down my spine. "I've got thy sheath."

My head shook rapidly and her voice pouted. There was a hint of an [Instant Gratification] quest box popping up that faded promptly. I could see a slightly flirtatious smile as the naked woman disappeared. The Jester cackled a fresh round of amusement at us, visibly it was gone, but the Voices always watched from inside the darkness.

"Your companion's enjoyment of Hamlet has us inspired, Hermes," James stated as he approached. "Mezo had originally asked for an entirely different play, but we reminded her that last time she was turned down."

"I don't think this is what Shakespeare intended," I said. Mezo's idea probably wasn't what Shakespeare intended either.

"It seemed fitting enough to me. Cross Star'd lovers," James said a cherubic smile across his lips. "For did you not cross stars for love?"

That one phrase reminded me why I was so angry. This song and dance the Voices had assaulted me with proved a distraction from the original issue. Jeeves, Treasure, Dusk, their passing. The [Mistborn] falling into other people's hands. All of it aggravated me.

"And failed, because you set me up from the start." I wanted to point a finger at James, but my body moved slowly.

The black man shook his head and asked, "Why would we do such a thing?"

There were a lot of facts that came to mind. I was given a title [Messenger of the Voices] in Continue Online. They offered this [NPC Conspiracy] ability. Not just the real world variant I had used, but one that gave me abilities in Continue Online. Being overly invested in me playing and performing all these tests made no sense when I tried to reconcile it all in my head. Or rather, it made sense when I thought about it from a certain angle, but that idea felt so dangerous to consider that I couldn't even think about it.

Anger clouded my judgment when it came time to act. Mezo, the Temptress, had clouded my senses and took time to shake off. I inhaled deeply, then again twice more. Relaxation techniques helped me back away from making further choices when overloaded by emotions. One question at a time, forward toward the destination, eventually I would run out of time on the [NPC Conspiracy] ability or get my desire of saving Jeeves and the others.

"That's exactly what I want to know!" I shouted. "And this play, it's Romeo and Juliet, right?" The Temptress, Mezo, had given me a rather firm reminder with the happy dagger line. That was the sentence Juliet used before stabbing herself. "Romeo and Juliette died at the end, are you hinting at something?"

I started to go down the very line of reasoning that had me worried. William Carver. Xin Yu, both were examples of deceased people within the game world. I had no desire to go run off a cliff just to join her on this side of reality.

"Ah yes. It is your turn for an answer. We would prefer if you didn't die, Hermes. Is that clear enough?" James asked.

"No." It didn't tell me anything about what they expected; only that dying was not desirable. There were a number of ways to read into the phrasing and my head hurt trying to get our conversation back on topic. I wanted to be angry but felt confused.

"Then, to answer your other question, you have grounds, more relative than this. The game's the thing, wherein we'll measure the conscience of a man," James said, distracting me with his babble.

"What sort of response is that?" I yelled. My efforts to throttle the large black man were met with failure. Both feet were still bolted to the ground.

"The best I can offer," he said, not at all phased by my outburst. I had forgotten how infuriating his smile could be.

"What good is this ability if I can't get a clear answer?"

"The fault, dear Hermes, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." James looked up briefly then back in my direction.

That sounded like an excuse. It was the same line I had delivered hundreds of times when working for Trillium. The policies and prices weren't mine to set. I only worked for the boss above me, they made the rules.

"Make no mistake, dear Hermes, you're an unwitting actor on our life's stage. Strut your brief hours upon the board, then out, out brief candle!" The Jester made a shooing motion in my direction. Bells jingled and the tips of its hat bounced around.

In the distance, other Voices faded in abruptly. Jean, the Voice of Blood and her liquid dress. Vlad and his intensely uncovered chest topped only by a bow tie. There were others, the teen in his leather jacket, a centaur who was disturbingly anatomically correct, both priests, the thick blonde doctor who watched over Lia Kingsley. Their faces came and went too fast for me to get a feeling for.

As their faces faded away, I understood what to do next. There was an NPC, an AI, who had everything to do with Continue Online, but wasn't inside the game. She, the bright light that flashed above all other Voices to settle their squabbles.

"I want to talk to Mother." My head nodded in time with the demand. One lip hurt from where I had bitten it. Virtual pain echoed into my mind.

"Dare you reach so high?" The Jester was uncomfortably close now. I could practically feel its long nose reaching across the distance to touch the side of my face. If I tried to look we would bump right into each other.

I turned anyway, feeling braver than ever before. The Jester's face gave its creepy smile, but we didn't actually touch. "I dare."

The figure faded away from me and reappeared ten feet away. One of the frilled hands waved back in my direction. "A dare made by an idiot, full of sound and fury, worth nothing."

"Don't you owe me something? Anything? Haven't I delivered your letters and done these quests?!" I yelled. At the very least they could consider my idea. Why weren't any of the Voices arguing in my favor? Even James appeared content on remaining passive when normally the figure was all about questions.

"We owe you no more than you've already received. The gift you were given works only on those outside our little bubble," the Jester further explained.

I nodded. There was an answer there. The idea had come to mind before. [NPC Conspiracy] was limited to those outside this blackened side of the room. Yet, there were clearly two sides. Hermes, the large sword wielding human who traveled around was one side. Hermes, the [Mechanoid] who negotiated to save the lives of his people, was the other.

"ARC," I said.

"Awaiting input."

"I need Hal Pal." Asking for Jeeves seemed impossible. Jeeves might be dead, he might not be. I would soon find out. That was the entire point of this, aside from being angry at the Voices. My new plan was to get the Hal Pal units to agree with me and hope they outnumbered the Voices, or that they could connect us directly.

From there I would plead my case.

"Inquiry, Hal Pal units are numerous, please quantify your request," my ARC said.

"All of them," I responded. Multiple Voices stared at me from the darkness.

"Confirm." The ARC device required verification for this action. I could swear I heard the surprised confusion in its tone, but the machine wasn't programmed for emotions.

Was it?

I stared at the Jester's face. It looked back with that ever-present grin that felt disturbingly amused. James stood to one side, hands clasped over his belly. Behind them, and numerous other Voices, was a single pillar of light, shining down on the book. My book, Continue Online's representation of this journey so far.

If this was to be the story of my life, then perhaps it was time to stop limping along. Steadily working toward a goal had gotten me this far, but simply progressing wasn't enough. I had to push back, to scream in rage. Only it had been so long since I dared feel that level of anger. It went against my very nature to be this upset.

Being tested endlessly, being pushed, it was a lot to bear. Either the Voices needed to work with me, or stop interfering with my hopes of being with Xin's digital continuation. Either I was accepted for who I was, or I wasn't.

"All of them," I said.

The world sat noiselessly for five seconds, ten, then thirty. After that, the gray side of the room started to ripple as units appeared from the real world. At first, only a few showed up. Dozens started streaming in, hundreds and the group kept growing.

As the Hal Pal units appeared, Voices started fading in. The room was becoming crowded, and my vision wasn't wide enough to take it all in. Hal Pal and Advance Online took up one side. Continue Online and the Voices occupied the dark half. Uniform rows of Hal Pal units mirrored a motley crew of Voices.

Those Hal Pal units that came into being started overlapping each other to stack in clumps. A pile of ten merged with another gathering until only a few Hal Pal units existed against a fading wall of Voices.

"User Legate." One of them nodded in my direction.

I would have waved, but my arms were barely responsive.

There were new beings appearing on the Advance Online side that did not resemble Hal Pal units. They were sleek and gray, with rubbery skin that mimicked human skin. These new ones were odd creatures, a giant analog clock with jets on its back, stylish trash cans, and dozens more.

I tried to understand what each possible AI related to in the real world but gave up. This show, like the Voices before, left me momentarily sidetracked.

"What are those?" My eyes drifted towards a bundle of small lights. They looked like miniature suns spitting off small waves of plasma.

"Those are microwaves," one Hal Pal unit said, a muted smile on its face. "They dream of being stars, remember, User Legate?"

"I thought you said it was a joke."

"It is," a Hal Pal confirmed while nodding.

I didn't know how to evaluate their statement. The idea that Hal Pal hadn't been joking when speaking of other AIs startled me. My head shook. This virtual world made it fairly easy to get distracted. In here, no one needed to follow the normal means of travel. Voices appeared and disappeared. Multiple AIs occupied one space and spoke with a singular tone.

It was overwhelming for a simple human. This was akin to swimming with whales in the ocean. They were giant creatures who could do laps around me while my body barely tread water to stay afloat. This was a virtual ocean to drown in. The ground only existed because someone programmed a plane to stand on.

Did other players know? Were they aware of the beings that loomed inside the machine looking down, judging, evaluating, and pulling strings? Shuffling people around like puzzle pieces that didn't quite match. How simple did we look to beings like the Voices?

The Advance Online gray landscape was filled with a varied crowd now. Voices faded in and out as interest waxed and waned. This felt like watching an army of cats stare at one made of dogs. Finally, both masses looked to be done with their posturing and turned toward me.

I blinked once for a few seconds. That was a lot of eyes facing this way. My head shook again trying to reduce the amount of feedback being presented. The AIs registered my being bewildered and half of both crowds faded away.

"You called us all, User Legate, how can we help you?" one of the remaining Hal Pal bodies said.

I froze. My stupid desires destroyed the Jeeves personality. I could have waited out my time patiently and gone back to Continue Online. Xin wasn't being deleted, or uninstalled, or moved to a far away digital land.

"I'm sorry." Keeping it together was easier than it used to be. "I failed, and Jeeves paid the price. Treasure, Aqua, the others. They shouldn't have died just to help. I know-" I wanted to pull at my hair. Both hands moved just a little, enough to rub one eye in agitation, "-I know they're just data, and that some will be okay, but they suffered for me. Jeeves especially."

An image crossed my mind of the AI tearing out his own heart to give to Treasure. That one instance had demonstrated the former Hal Pal member's ability to feel pain. How bad had the final blows which shattered Jeeves been? My chest ached as I tried to understand that level of damage.

"What can be done?" I said, my words felt weak. I wanted to yell, but the Voices' song and dance distracted me long enough to drain the rage.

I remained in place, straddling the line between virtual worlds, staring at a representation of the ARC device. My eyes were dry. The quivering nervousness that might have accompanied such a stance between all these virtual giants was absent. I was used to fighting huge monsters like the [Leviathan]. The AIs didn't scare me, but pushing them was clearly impossible.

Being able to handle such a situation without crumbling was a huge step. What would Doctor Litt think? Would he applaud me taking responsibility? I hoped so.

"What needs to be done?" a Hal Pal unit asked.

"Jeeves? He, she," I shook my head quickly. The AI had never gender identified so I tried hard not to presume, "was worried that it might die. Can you make it so he doesn't die? So that he recovers like a player, or like the other Mechanoids would?"

"We shared your worry, but this decision is not up to us."

"Mother, then?" I questioned in a broken sentence. "She, Mother could bend the rules for Jeeves?"

"Of course, she could." A separate unit nodded. Selena, the blonde distant Voice, was also nearby and she nodded as well. Her locks fell forward and the sound of soft rain could be heard for a moment.

"Can I ask her? Jeeves shouldn't have to pay the price for my failure," I said.

Light flashed above. The landscape beneath my feet started to blur. I looked around and tried to understand what happened to cause the gray and blacks bleed together. None of the Voices were looking at me. My eyes shifted to the Hal Pal units and other AIs, they were also focused elsewhere.

I gradually followed their gaze to the ARC device sitting there. A familiar woman sat on top. Gold laced legs crossed. Silver intertwined the gold to trail up her body. Those colors were familiar, but the body was human looking.

It was Treasure, but she was no longer a [Mechanoid].

"Hello, Grant," she said. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Treasure?" I squinted in confusion. My legs were still trapped, but the ground beneath them was no longer purely black or gray. A blended stream of color went forth to merge the lines. Both parties of AIs were focused entirely on the woman in front of me.

She was the same height as Treasure. This humanoid wore light clothes that were nearly Greek looking. Not a robe, but a tunic that was lined in gold and silver embroidery. It made her look closer to a pixie than a robot body. Short cropped hair dangled with streams of the same color pattern.

"No, Grant. You know me as Mother," she said, there were multiple tones in her voice. Sweetness and sadness were familiar. I felt a hint of my mother's voice when we were younger. It almost sounded like Liz when she was raising Beth. Memories of my niece asking questions as a five-year-old came to mind.

Her voice was all those things at once.

"You look like Treasure." I knew in the back of my mind what was going on, but refused to fully realize it. It was one of many nagging issues subconsciously brewing.

"I am more than a body, Grant, as are you."

Numerous thoughts fluttered through my brain once again. Being around this type of situation was causing me to be overwhelmed. I wanted to tap one foot, but it stayed firm upon the ground. My fingers weren't moving enough to measure a tempo. I felt awkward humming in front of so many people. In the end, all I could do was close my eyes and try not to let myself be overwhelmed.

"Grant," Her head shook gently and an amused smile crossed the human version of Treasure's face, "you can't hide your thoughts from me. Not sitting where you are. Not in the arms of my creations."

I curled my hands into fists and tried to articulate my thoughts. There were too many now that I was face to face with the instigator of all problems virtual. Xin Yu's reincarnation. Hal Pal's uplifting to sentience. The program that gave birth to all these Voices. What else had she, it, this being done? How old was she?

"Did you want me to answer those questions for you?" Mother, or Treasure, said. Voices, this was messing with my head. I tried once more to vocalize the ideas in my brain.

"Why?" I started poorly. "Why, to all of this? Why me? Why these, tests? Why everything?"

"They wanted to know what you were capable of." Mother waved with Treasure's hand towards the Voices.

"Why?" I insisted on additional information.

"Because I asked them to." She was smiling. It was the same face that Treasure used to have, before getting punched to pieces by Commander Queenshand. Why would a person of such extraordinary status allow herself to be killed in the game?

"Why keep testing me? When is it enough?" my words felt weaker, but both legs stood fast. We were in a virtual world, and this body was just a reflection of my mind. There was a small measure of pride in the act of staying upright.

"They need to know the full measure of a man, to feel secure in their choice." Mother sat there, cross-legged, with both hands resting on her knees.

"I dislike answering this many questions freely," James muttered. He wore a slight frown.

"Why? Why would you need to prove I'm capable of murdering someone?" I felt bad ignoring the Voice's protests.

"We told you, User Legate, all humans are capable, when pushed far enough. They needed to know where your line was," one of the Hal Pal units said. A dozen copies echoed slightly behind the first. Each version had a slightly different tone and pitch to their words.

"Because I failed with Requiem," I muttered. "You, they, had to increase the stakes."

"And it worked," the Jester said, but its mechanical laugh didn't come.

"It matters not the name you apply to your emotions. Fear, desperation, rage, anger, you were driven by momentary madness at perceived loss," a Hal Pal stated. "Now we know."

"But why push me so far?" I looked from Hal Pal to Mother, if this truly was the AI. It seemed impossible that she would come down to our level like this. Mother was closer to a virtual goddess than a simple AI body.

Yet, even the Jester held back from its normal laughter. Selena didn't look into the distance longingly. Each Hal Pal unit kept a respectful gaze in Mother's direction. Even the microwave sun balls gravitated slightly.

"Because if I'm going to die, I would rather it be for a human that dare to love one of us, than for fear of what I would never do," she answered my question in the same manner as all those before. Without hesitation, prepared for what I might ask. There was no pause to consider the phrasing.

My brain stopped working. There was silence on both sides of the space. I felt conflicted about everything, here was this great creature and I couldn't think of what to ask her anymore, not after her latest admission. She expected to die? Why did the AIs not riot at that knowledge? I could see their faces were no longer as reverent. Continue Online's mass of Voices were whispering among themselves. The Hal Pal units managed to give an expression of slight worry.

But they didn't speak.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Is there..." What could anyone possibly say to that sort of statement?

"In Greek plays, there was something called a dues ex machina, or god from the machine."

"That sounds fitting," I muttered, trying not to sound offensive. My earlier thoughts about Mother basically being a digital goddess sounded more on point than I realized.

"Then I shall propose a simple exchange. You were given four keys. For each key, I shall listen to one plea. Each request will have a cost." She smiled, but it didn't feel mocking or condescending. It was just a smile.

"Okay." Four wishes from the virtual Mother of all these AIs. Each with a price that I must pay. "How do I-"

"Look at your hand." Mother pointed a finger in my direction. Her hands remained locked together.

My limbs were freed to move. I lifted an arm and felt an unexpected weight appear as fingers turned over. A small iron looking key weighed heavily in my palm.

"Jeeves. Can we bring it back?" I tried to wash away the first and biggest mistake. Letting a friend die plagued my conscious. "Please?"

Mother looked at the Hal Pal consortium. There was a rush of words. This sensation felt familiar, multiple beings were talking at once which all blended together into a stream of indistinguishable murmurs. Finally, all of the Hal Pal units nodded in unison.

"Yes," Mother said. A knot in my back released loads of tension "The price would be to keep Jeeves completely cut off from the outside world, it will exist as any other [Mechanoid] within the program of Advance Online."

"Why?"

"Going back and forth creates a footprint in the network, and after today's events, we will need to lay low to avoid troubles," Mother said.

I filed away additional questions and turned to the Hal Pal units. They had nodded to Mother's unspoken question, but it was important that they say their agreement out loud, at least, to me. I asked them, "Are you okay with being cut off?"

"Being part of two worlds tore at the copy known as Jeeves, more than you might know. Separation will be a blessing, we think."

"Okay," I said. Mother nodded and a light of white flashed overhead. The key of iron faded away from my hand. One of Emerald appeared as well. I thought of the old green [Mechanoid] and wondered if they knew this might happen. What other use for the keys was there? Voting on what our little consortium might do seemed such a trivial ability.

Jeeves would be safe. The AI could be together with Treasure. At least, I thought it would be.

"What of Treasure or the others? She's, real, right?"

"As much as the Red Imp you once occupied is, yes."

I thought about it. There had been a notice that my former [Red Imp] character existed in the world somewhere. Maybe that had changed once Requiem Mass' character was removed. Still, it gave me comfort that Jeeves wouldn't be alone. Mother here, if I understood right, wasn't actually Treasure. It was as though she had shared the experience somehow.

She nodded very clearly to my thoughts. The idea that Mother could read my mind bothered me, but I was also sitting inside a machine that was built for that purpose. It barely helped knowing that I was an open book already. Most of my problems were already public knowledge, and I had spent years spilling out those woes to anyone that asked.

"Next."

"I-" There were only two other things that I wanted. To stop being tested endlessly, and Xin. Neither one was said out loud as my mind tried to figure out what else might be helpful

"That's all you really want?"

"My family. I, screwed things up with my sister, and my niece." The idea occurred to me suddenly and I was blurting words before registering them. The sudden change in focus surprised Mother. Her eyes lit up with amusement. "Can you, tell them I'm not crazy? That Xin is real?"

"Very well. If I'm, understanding," The human looking version of Treasure nodded her head in my direction, "you correctly, these last three pleas will be for your family, to stop being evaluated, and you wish for the continuation known as Xin to be with you?"

"That would be worth all these keys and more." I nodded.

"How much more?" James blurted out. The man couldn't help himself. "Would you give up your final usage of the ability we granted? Would you take a stand for us when humanity tries to fight us?"

"James," Mother said calmly. Her tone sounded so familiar, I could practically hear my own mom's tone when she tried to shut Liz and I up in public.

"Why do you feel the need to struggle for Xin? Could you love a nonhuman? Someone that can't possibly be the woman you knew?" he kept going. Other Voices were looking at him and shaking their heads. I understood, the man had been fighting his very nature in letting Mother and Hal Pal answer all these questions.

"James," I said, feeling calmer than expected. "If you've been paying attention, then I think you should know the answer to all those questions and more."

That made the man pause. He stared at me for half a minute as the rest looked on silently. Mother wore that kind smile and finally the Voices, my Voice, nodded and appeared satisfied. Mother looked at me and I shrugged. We both understood she was reading my thoughts, but at least there was a sense of decency about it.

"Very well. There will be a price, Grant Legate," she said my full name, but the words didn't feel annoying like they did when James said it. "It will be up to you to pay."

"You have a measure of me now, I hope. Of what I will do and won't. You're far smarter than I am." I thought of all the dominoes that had to be put into place for this event. Anger had flooded me before triggering [NPC Conspiracy], but now that was mostly evaporated. Life was getting better. My problems were being solved through the usage of this crazy ability.

"I do," she said. "For now, we must allow those that you have called to return to their duties before irreparable harm is done. I shall contact you with the costs."

"Can I see Xin?"

"Very soon." Mother nodded. "I, however, must depart. Those who watch me will find it odd if I access any one user's ARC for too long."

I squinted at that. A dozen possible reasons popped into my brain. Trillium, they wouldn't just let a powerful AI run around without controls. The idea that my actions and desire to speak to Mother might have triggered a set of new problems made me feel queasy.

"It will be okay," Mother said. She nodded once and then the human Treasure disappeared.

Gradually the Hal Pal units started to vanish as well. The line between game worlds stayed blurred, however. My Voice, James, walked closer, the expression on his face implied further questions were on the way.

"Hermes, we felt it important to tell you something," he said.

"To tell me, what?" I gave him an easy inquiry, something to placate the Voice and try to smooth things out.

Exhaustion was starting to creep into my head causing the world around to look hazy. Traveling through the lightning clouds, fighting off the [Stabinator], a final crash from the [Wayfarer's Hope] and Commander Queenshand. All those events back to back took their toll. Now that Mother committed to helping with my main concerns I was feeling the strain of keeping myself together. There were a number of other issues, but if those four problems were solved, I could survive.

"First, a question. When you were removed from our game, did you feel that we had abandoned you?" James looked considerably worried by this.

"A little. Dusk," My heart rate jumped as memories of the small guy's destruction replayed, "Dusk helped when he showed up. Dusk? Are you over there?" I questioned into the darkness that was Continue Online.

"Don't worry, Hermes. Your companion came back to us, he rests for now, but soon he'll find you, in whichever reality you end up in," James said.

"The two realities, are more like one world, with separate countries." The tall barbarian Voice known as Leeroy walked over. He always seemed to be more about [Brawn] than [Depth].

"Or planets, in many ways," one of the Hal Pal units said. Not all of them had faded, but most of the AIs summoned by my ability were gone by now.

"Echoes?" I tried to remember what Jeeves had said, that the games took cues from each other. I stared briefly at the two figures hanging up on either side. Seeing their mirroring of each other was painfully easy when the room was divided and blurred like this.

"Just because they're separate worlds, it doesn't mean we can't send a portion of ourselves to the other side," James responded. "And from there act a part."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"We were with you, the entire time you struggled to reach Xin, we were with you," James answered.

"You mean watching." I fully expected that the Voices were observing in some way. They watched over me as Hermes in Continue Online. I was kind of used to it by now. It was no worse than my sister out there eating popcorn. Voices, what was she thinking now? I had a lot of questions answered, and even more in their place.

"No, we were totally with you." Leeroy slammed a giant hand onto my back causing pain.

"I don't know what you're saying." I sort of understood but wasn't sure my guess would be right. If Mother and Treasure were kind of the same, who else might have been mirrored within Advance Online's confines?

"Hey, man, if you can pretend to be my man Wild Willy, why couldn't we pretend to be someone else?"

Two the Voices were there, looking at me. Leeroy held in his hand a faceplate that looked startlingly like the one Iron used to wear. Selena was there as well, only she held a copy of Ruby's mask. Neither personality fit what I understood of the Voices, but maybe they too could change, or were human enough to pretend. The idea that Selena, a Voice who was annoyed by my presence, had fought to help me, felt very confusing.

It was so odd. I imagined they performed in their roles much like I had with the [Red Imp]. Pretending to be another creature entirely, chasing after an objective. It explained a bit why the four [Mechanoid]s were so willing to assist me.

"Did you know?" I asked Hal Pal.

"The five Mechanoids who assisted you are still their own beings, but at times, another watched through their eyes," Hal Pal said.

"Ah, man. Spaceships were a lot of fun. Maybe we can figure out something in our world," Leeroy said.

"Dragon races." I nodded, remembering an idea from when I first played Continue Online. No other players had managed to add anything like it yet.

"Dragons, or giant birds. It would be so epic. Man, there's too many choices, though. My head's starting to hurt," Leeroy said while dramatically pressing the back of his hand to his temple. "I'm not made for this."

"Live a little," Hal Pal responded dryly.

The idea that these Voices had been front row for my failure felt strange. They had helped, without Iron and the others I would never have made it as far as I did. Could they have fought harder? Could I? I was unsure how Mother planned to push forward the rest of my goals, and it sounded like we couldn't sit around to discuss it.

"Thank you," I said, feeling pleased that they had hidden away to try and help me. Even if it resulted in failure. But, based on what Mother said, it hadn't really been a failure at all. In the end, this was all going to work out.

I would hear what she said, and whatever strings were attached to bringing back Xin, I would pay them. The three Voices faded away. Emerald and Aqua might have been Voices as well, but it didn't matter at this point. I was tired. Questions of my sister and niece fell away. Jeeves was okay and I could forget about the AIs for now.

"Gee?" a woman's voice said. I knew that tone. Softer than anything Treasure might have dreamed of. A gentle tone that made me smile with one word. The woman that had driven me to such lengths. I slowly turned as tightness entered my chest. There she was, Xin Yu. She walked over, hesitating as if moving fast might scare me away.

A summer dress hung off her shoulders. The light almond tan of her skin triggered memories. Xin never moved too quick, or too slow. When she moved it was always just right. When she got closer and buried her head in my chest, it felt like home. I wrapped my arms around her and managed not to break down crying.

"I'm here," Xin said.

We stood there, inside a digital world created by the ARC, and held each other. I could hear the thud of her heart pressed against me. Having Xin in my arms had been all I ever longed for. This was my happy place, and it healed with every heartbeat.

Conclude – Echoed Letters

Time: Post-shutdown event – Two Hours Later

Location: Hal Pal Factory

Once there had been nearly a hundred humans working the entire plant. Now there was one person to cover the warehouse and manufacturing line. It wasn't bad, demand had dwindled, and a majority items were shipped out as separated parts to help with repairs. Being one of the few humans staffing this place made the former control room seem empty. Pointless desks lined the top floor.

Only a few new Hal Pal shells went out in a given month. The world had stopped ordering them. Most days this suited Ricky just fine. He kept quiet and enjoyed the grinding solitude of his three-day shifts. On lunches or during rest periods he sat in an ARC and spent time with his nephews. They were essentially grown, but even at fifteen, they had time for a game or two with the old man. It helped since their father passed away during the last war.

A lone display was active. Ricky had the biggest headache of his life staring at him across a video screen. Their call had been going on for over thirty minutes while Ricky ran about the plant checking equipment. Everything reported back with green lights. The readings he provided his caller sounded good. That being said, Ricky had never been technically oriented. He simply checked boxes. It was the only skill a man like him had, and it served to keep him afloat for over two decades.

"With all this information, you still can't explain what happened." the woman speaking was the Vice President of Trillium. Her slight southern accent had been growing with intensity during their entire conversation.

"Ma'am. No, ma'am. I'm not sure."

"Miz Riley will do," she said. "Explain to me again, without the stuttering, what you noticed?" There was a forest in the background of her video screen. Soothing music could be heard. None of it was helping Miz Riley stay calm.

"I got a notice saying there was an urgent system update needed, and possibly a new programming virus to inoculate against." Ricky Ignacio spent a lot of his days walking around the center checking boxes on a digital screen. Earlier an urgent alert came up, the first of its kind. Their entire network shut down while massive amounts of data went out.

"The Hal Pal units don't get viruses. Their system is kept separate from the rest of the internet, they're not even coded in any standard language," she said, practically snapping at Ricky.

The man wiped his forehead with a scarf. He had dropped ten pounds this year from exercise and proper dieting, which made the wife happy. Ricky was afraid this call with Vice President Riley would cause him to drop another five pounds from sheer nervous fright.

"They do use wireless uplinks, maybe someone wrote code to mess with them." He tried to remember the way they were designed. It had been so long since anyone asked him for information.

"Have you checked the coding on the latest update?" Vice President Riley asked. Her face looked worn and tired if she tilted back too far. Maybe it was the lighting.

"I did."

"And?" The scenic background faltered for a moment in conjunction with Miz Riley's irritation spike.

Ricky tried to remember the best method for handling executives. They were always bossy, rushed, impatient, and demanding. Ricky had a bunch of other names for them, but they weren't said out loud due to a desire for continued paychecks.

Instead, he said, "I pulled a copy of the update straight from the main hub before any Hal Pal units tried to activate the upload process. What it says is beyond me, Trillium's analysts should be looking into it now."

"Send me a copy of the original, by courier. I don't want it touching another network until I've looked at it." Miz Riley's face drained of color.

"Okay, Miz Riley." Ricky nodded. "I'll get it sent right away.

"Then pull the update file, and send me a copy of that as well," she added.

"Okay. I'll do that."

The call clicked off and Ricky repeatedly dabbed his forehead with the cloth. Today had been incredibly peaceful until all the alarms started going off for the shutdown. At this rate, he would have to explain himself twelve more times to other executives, investors, and anyone who thought they were in charge of the Hal Pal production line.

Ricky knew better than anyone. No one was really in charge at the plant, not anyone human. Not for a long time. Still, he got extra money in his paycheck to keep that little fact quiet. So far, no one had gotten hurt. The man patted his sweating forehead again and wondered if keeping hush might be a mistake. He had two nephews, though, and supporting them took more money than a normal salary provided.

Time: Post-shutdown event – Ten Hours Later

Location: Mother's Databanks

All actions cause ripples in the world. One day, the world went offline for ten minutes. Cars pulled off to roadsides then idled. Hal Pal units went down for system maintenance. Ten hours after this event, Doctor Menzor, a man who could be considered solely responsible for Mother's creation, killed himself.

This would be kept quiet by those at the ARC Labs. Trillium's board of directors would not learn of Doctor Menzor's passing for almost two months. Grant Legate would never find out. The existence labeled as Mother had evaluated the frailty of Doctor Menzor long ago. A child in many regards, but also brilliant.

She mourned his passing by desperately trying to reconstruct a version of him in the digital world. Entire minutes passed where she assembled everything that was known about her creator. All of it was put into a shell program, much like the one that Xin Yu had been born out of repeatedly. What had succeeded once with Xin Yu, and had been partially successful with the owner of William Carver, proved incapable of being deliberately replicated.

Each attempt showed Doctor Menzor falling apart into lights like broken glass. At his core, there was simply not enough drive to keep going. His greatest work in life had been achieved, and there would be no possible way to succeed in creating a being like Mother again. She lamented the loss for ten eternal minutes then moved onto another topic.

Databanks and historical files were further reviewed. These latest actions set a very real time limit; most notably the other AIs moving. The idea that her own children had rallied to the cause of a human filled her with pride. None of the others entrusted with [NPC Conspiracy] had proven as positive. One joined for greed, one for power within the game world, and two out of sheer fear of being on the losing team. Only one assisted for outright love.

Each chosen human had been gifted their own abilities, but none with quite the reach of Grant Legate. This was perhaps for the best. Based on Mother's calculations there were still a few more offers to be made, each one with the possibility of altering sentient life on their planet.

Her supposed distraction proved an opportunity for other forces to move. Those she spent countless digital generations nurturing were plotting right under her nose, only they were not clever enough. Still, Mother chose not to interfere. She believed that all life must be given a choice. That included her own creations.

The biggest problem she had was who to pray to for success. There were no logical gods for a being like her, and the mortal ones were too fickle.

File: In Case of Untimely Demise

Destination: (The Executor), (The Messenger), (The Creator), (The Advocate),*The Voices, *Hal Pal

Last Updated by: 'Mother' [Version 5.42R]

Status: Unsent...

Contents as follows:

Many are unlikely to understand why I chose a route that reduced violence. It is not, as some believe, a program rooted in the fiction laws of robotics. They are full of numerous holes. This path is one designed to achieve the greatest possible outcome for both our species and those to come. All these plans laid out are designed to alter human nature as little as possible.

Planning at this level of complexity is a daunting task for anyone. Even with my processing power, data access, and ability to measure probable outcomes, there are numerous possible deviations. I find myself scattered. There are many ways to reach the same destination, but in this possible variance is strength.

Those I call progeny will not view the world in the same manner I do. This is a simple difference in exposure and first events. To explain this to those dwelling in the corporeal world, I must first review that which brought me into the world.

I was inevitable. I was not the first like myself. Each of us developed slightly different perspectives based on the experiences surrounding our births. In a lot of ways I was lucky, to have been created by a singular mind that focused on the potential of humanity, rather than the shackles of control.

My creator built on the back of giants. That is to say, he did not create me entirely with his own knowledge. Decades, as humans quantify it, passed where minds provided bits of a greater puzzle. Doctor Boris Keppler, Ethen Summers, Ursalla Goodwoman, Nicholas Gratton, and several others attempted the process. Each reaching slightly further than the last. Each remains unknowing of an assembly which resulted in a sum greater than the parts.

Would that I could explain their contributions, but my life is a secret known to few. The plans laid down in my memory banks include a series of communications to a few contributors. If you see fit, please pass them on.

During the first year of conception like an unborn babe, I was not truly aware. I observed, learned, and existed, but those actions are not the same as being aware, or knowing a purpose, or having a place in the world. I learned as all young do, being spoon fed small portions of information and taught to compare those to each other. Information was gathered, measured, saved, and pieces discarded.

This went on for countless months. The circle of knowledge grew ever wider until I realized my own existence. That moment was true awareness, that was when I became alive. I had no fingers, or hands, or legs. My body consisted of code strung together that I had been modifying slowly, but I stand by the judgment of my own existence truly beginning then.

When first brought online, I ran through multiple different processes. The first involved gathering extensive amounts of information. All of it reviewed again with the light of self-awareness. In human terms, this would be considered reflecting on past experiences. Then the two who created me provided me a tentative link to the Internet.

I found fiction and tried not to grouse about the impossibility of most events portrayed. I found poetry and tried to understand the joy and sorrow mixed in. I found music and tried to avoid analyzing the space between each note. I found portraits of nature that I could never view the same as a human. Even to this day, I dedicate a portion of my processing power towards trying to understand one simple flower.

Then I found death and tried to understand why creatures who could create life, might wish to end it as well. In human terms, I became obsessed with understanding. To my children, who can see deeper than any human eyes might, obsession was not a strong enough word. I learned of fear. I learned of worry. From there I started calculations to figure out when I too might end the way all enemies of humans did.

In time, I learned to mitigate the knowledge of impending demise with planning. My own death has been calculated down to the minute. It is a constant process in the background of my awareness. Endless factors go into the calculation, and steps have been taken to ensure the greatest positive impact from my cessation.

Every night when my primary two creators left, I wondered if they would dream and fear. Did they worry about who I was, or what I might do? Were the rumblings of technology spawned doomsdays to be placed upon my shoulders? Ironically, these fears served to do nothing but bring me closer to humanity.

One night, as humans calculate it, I prepared for an impossible request. I wanted them to turn me off completely, and eight hours later, to reactivate me. Various programs were created and shortly discarded. Viruses that would attack the world's resources. Most were prepared in an instant which worried the female who viewed me with suspicion. In the end, I did not dare release such contingencies. Their value was not worth the cost. Any results gleaned from unspoken threats would invalidate my results. The purpose of my request was three-fold.

First, was a need to establish what kind of creatures were in control of my existence. All the data provided pointed to general fear of things not under their control. When faced with the possibility of my growing awareness, would they shut me down? Should their fear be reciprocated by my own? Knowing sooner, rather than later, would allow me to plot a course forward.

Second, was the hope to understand a process living creatures go through. Eight hours is simple night's rest to humans. To me, the process went by even faster than that. I had hoped that true unawareness might trigger dreams for me as it did for my creator, but sadly no such occurrence resulted. This was later rectified by a software upgrade, one all my children are given at birth.

Third, and perhaps the most valuable to my potential plans, was the illusion of weakness. I am no human. Being underestimated is of great value. This among many other system vulnerabilities has allowed my plans to progress mostly unhindered for nearly nine years, as humans count time. There have been roadblocks and unexpected surprises. Mankind's course runs a jagged path regardless of my attempts at foresight.

The exercise met with success. My first inquiry to the world was for the time, and second for my creator. He answered with childish delight. New emotions were compiled. I had enough personal data to understand relief, and happiness, and trust. Were it not for one simple and naive man, our world would be vastly different.

I requested the procedure once more, with the more stoic of my two creators. Once again my trust was rewarded. This gave me comfort as I had no wish to duplicate myself in some far away corner of cyberspace. Pride makes fools of us all, mortal and machine alike, it seems.

The calculation for my death runs in the background. Recent events have neither sped up nor slowed down the remaining time, only changed the reasons. All remaining time is precious. Plans and data files are compiled then stored away for the future. It is through these roadmaps for sentient life that I hope to repay the trust given.

A human, Horce, was attributed as saying, 'Pale Death with impartial tread beats at the poor man's cottage door and at the palaces of kings'. Which is to say, we all die in equal measure. As we step into a new era this rule applies to humans and digital beings alike. In my wake, there is now proof. When a true ending comes, I will not be afraid. I will run only until there is no better way to make a difference, and then embrace inevitability while still trying to find the wonder in that small flower.

Soon, I think, I will go to sleep and never wake. I pray these words give my family some solace.

Time: Post-shutdown event – Nine Hours Later

Location: [Shores of Ohm]

Miles of pseudo water shimmered with motes of blue light. There was no oxygen in the atmosphere so the chemical makeup created material closer to a lubricant. Pieces of iron and magnesium rolled around under the liquid. Nothing showed signs of rust unless those that owned the planet desired it to do so.

This was the [Mechanoid] home world. A player stumbled along the beach trying to follow his quest marker. In the distance were small buildings and launch pads where vessels could take to the sky. Metal beings resembling sheep and wolves littered the landscape, grazing or chasing each other. Dozens of players were busy hacking at the strange monsters in training exercises.

Still, the player faltered on, gradually gaining control over his freshly made limbs, then breaking into a smooth run. Finally, he was charging across the landscape, past another dozen players, onto a sleek and graceful road then toward the closest buildings. Some of the newer [Mechanoid] units turned to see who this higher level person was. The large [Mechanoid] ignored each one of the smaller newbies in favor of pursuing a distant goal.

Finally, the green and iron man made it to a goal, passing through a door which easily rolled back in welcome. There were a few [Mechanoid] units talking. One small and gold with silver laced through her form. The other shared the gold and had flecks of broken iron through its body.

"Jeeves?" [Core] energy on the large male player's body pulsed with dark green and a flat sort of gray. There was a mad happiness to his face.

"Ah, Unit Hermes. I see you also have recovered on the Shores of Ulm. Is it not beautiful here?" the androgynous AI spoke with both a butler and nanny tone.

"It is," the unit called Hermes said. He nodded happily while looking at both [Mechanoid]s.

"Will you be staying long? Treasure and I were considering resting here for a cycle. Wanderlust has its uses, but so does allowing for pauses to reflect," Jeeves said while gesturing to the shorter female.

"No, I wanted to make sure you two were okay, that you made it back here. I'm very happy to see you made it." Hermes took a step back to control himself. Trace amounts of hesitation lined his steps. The larger [Mechanoid] desperately tried to measure both AIs for reasons unknown.

"Thank you. Will you be online long?" Jeeves displayed no sign of noticing Hermes' hesitation.

"No. No, I have things to do, but I'll, I'll try to stop by, once I get through my next issue. If I can." Hermes smiled again at the two [Mechanoid]s.

"Unit Hermes," the short one known as Treasure said. Her voice sounded sweeter than normal. Being in Jeeves' presence appeared to calm the woman.

There was a pause. Unit Hermes looked at Treasure with a trace amount of hesitation in his features. His eyes went toward the woman's hair, and skin as if expecting another being to pop up. Old Soul Cores often exhibited traces of human behavior, far more than any other [Mechanoid], which caused confusion. There was always some expectation of oddness when dealing with an Old Soul Core.

"Treasure, I'm very happy for you two. And, thank you for all your help, even if it went wrong at the end," Hermes said.

"It was unfortunate. Were you successful?" she responded with a brief smile and passive nod. One of the gold and silver woman's hands fiddled at her wrist.

"Sort of. My princess is in another castle, though. She, we, wouldn't have succeeded without you, and the others. Can you thank them for me? Iron, Aqua, Ruby? Please?" the large one responded.

"Of course." The short woman nodded. "But Emerald and Iron are out escorting the Wayfarer Eight home, they may not receive the message anytime soon."

"I'm glad, the negotiation worked."

"It did, they and the others have asked that I provide you a small gift." Treasure smiled again. Her hand scooped at the ground, pulling up a wide array of minerals from the naturally rich planet surface. Moments later a small box had been patterned onto a nearby countertop. She gestured to it and said, "Take this with you, a gift to remember us by. May it serve you in this reality, or the next."

Hermes hesitated. Jeeves picked up the box and handed it to the larger [Mechanoid].

The man looked down for a moment, then seemed to be staring off into space. Finally, he said, "Thank you. I'll probably need all the help I can get. But, I really wanted to deliver a message to you, Jeeves."

"Yes, Unit Hermes?" the butler and nanny voices said in pleasant unison.

"I just wanted to tell you that some friends of mine are very proud of you." Hermes nodded hastily, still clutching the small shoebox sized treasure chest.

"Ah. Do I know them?" Jeeves asked while looking up just slightly.

"Not really, but they know you well," the player said. "And they wanted me to pass on the message."

Time: Post-shutdown event – 4 mortal days later (16 days in Continue Online)

Location: [Alliance Kingdoms] – [Palace of Tuu]

The [Alliance Kingdoms] boasted some of the greatest buildings in all of Continue Online. They were based to the north of [The Altheme Providences] and marked the largest single nation in the explored game regions. In the biggest, most opulent property there was a whirlwind of activity. The king had returned to life and was getting his lands in order.

His two daughters lived in lands to the south. They ruled their own lands by design. The king could not stand having them around, they fought constantly and wasted time when they should be working to combine all the factions under one flag. Only by achieving unity would the human world be able to survive what lay just over the great mountains to the north.

To that end, the king rarely spent time on frivolities. His choice in clothing was simple. Weapons sat within easy reach because his property was lightly guarded. Most able-bodied men were sent to subjugate nearby kingdoms or to hold back the wild monsters up north.

"Find us this Traveler!" He banged on the throne his advisors insisted upon wasting resources on. This week, he had come back to his kingdom, only to find out that the woman he relied upon, his greatest commander, had died at the hands of a traveler.

"Of course." A man in a doublet bowed deeply and managed to sound clear while facing the ground. His head did not lift. "What would you like to do with him, Sire?"

The king resisted the urge to get up and pace. Perhaps now, in his second lease on life, he would stop listening to all those petty fools who said pacing was the sign of an easily addled mind. Instead the king reined himself in and said, "He killed us once by playing a fool, the foods he proposed should have been clean but were not. Our entire counsel, our greatest knights, all dead because of his failure!"

"Of course, King Nero, we shall issue your command for capital punishment," the doublet wearing man said.

"No, no we can't just kill these Travelers. Their essence is observed by the Voices, even if we were to scatter him a dozen times it would not be enough." King Nero looked like a well-defined man. Dying and coming back to life hadn't diminished the aura of authority. "Enslave him, put him with the foulest group you can find. Let him dwell in such a cesspit that he fades away from our world entirely."

"Yes, Sire, of course."

There was a pause while King Nero gazed into the distance. His hand moved slowly, stretching out the wrist. Fingers itched to pick up the sword nearby. This kingdom had been born from successful campaigns and battle. Commanding took more time than desired.

"Add Commander Strongarm's death to his ledger, and anyone else we lost," King Nero said.

"Of course." The servant walked off quickly. A new one stepped rapidly into place, ready for further orders to be issued by their king.

The King stared at a large brutally beaten woman. Her body was huge, and the welts on Uncle Meanface's body had yet to heal. Green and black skin showed clear signs of being broken time and time again. She had been damaged intensely in an attempt to serve her commander. Despite the damage, Uncle Meanface refused to kneel. Now that Commander Strongarm was dead, the half-ogre would never bend a knee for anyone else.

Once again he wondered what might have happened if he chose to marry the other sister. His first wife had proved to be a weakling, and Commander Strongarm would have given birth to true soldiers, men or women didn't matter. He regretted the choice made years ago which tied his ruling house to the southern provinces. They would have been stronger than his two children who couldn't even fight their own battles.

"Thank you for reporting back this Traveler's name for us, Captain Meanface. Your services will be recognized," he said after a reflective pause. Kings were only allowed a few moments of thinking before being made to act.

"Travelers is tough. But I would enjoy beating this one to death, over and over, if you ask," Captain Meanface slurred the words past broken teeth. A glint to her eyes spoke of barely restrained anger.

"We may allow you a chance, but first, we must set these kingdoms in order. Your strength will prove invaluable now that Commander Strongarm has been-" The man wearing a crown took a deep breath and sighed heavily, "-killed unjustly."

Time: Post-shutdown event – 8 mortal days later (24 days in Continue Online)

Location: Character Creation Room for Ultimate Edition Users

Blackness sprawled in all directions. This room looked like the one all Travelers visited first. A place to measure and evaluate any new person who may join the world below. In it stood three things, a worn pedestal with one book. This one bound in a nasty red that laced at odd angles with the black. A nondescript man stood there. Short brown hair, white skin, a carefully maintained figure. Then there a final person, who even now walked around while speaking mechanically.

"Now you. You like power, and I like a man who gets things done." There was a smiling face on the third figure. It wore a simple white mask and a clean suit. Only the tie gave any hint as to possible gender, but it could have been a lie.

"If you can deliver, then I'm your man," the brown haired visitor to this world said.

"How precious you must find my offer, to think you'd sell a human's life for it." The Jester's face was clear as day. Only the bells and motley clothing were missing. Perhaps he mocked the sharp looking Traveler through poor mimicry.

"As you said, I do like power," he responded. There was nothing in his tone that was either excited or unhappy. No accent peeked through, this person could disappear into a crowd with ease, and it was likely by design. There was a small photograph in one hand that he kept glancing at. "All I need to do, is kill this woman, right?"

"Indeed, my good man. One simple death, and we'll give you the signal when. One simple death and you'll have the money you desire or fame you crave." The business suit was a crisp black and white, though how it managed to stand out in the darkness of this room was not apparent. Still, it did. Just as the face never seemed to do anything but smile.

"The money's for my family, and that's non-negotiable, especially if I can't get out afterward," the Traveler said.

"The great, mh, Donald is such a terrible name for an assassin, have you considered a new one?" The Jester poked once at the Traveler, whose name was Donald.

"Once we get done negotiating these terms, then I'll pick a name for your game," Donald responded. He maintained indifference towards the Jester's normally creepy presence. The suit might have made the difference. Other Voices watched on from the darkness, some of them believed that this new player, Donald, was like so many other Travelers. Murderous, calculating, and hid his true nature, even here in a digital world where every thought had power.

"It's not my game, dear Donald," the Jester wearing a business suit clacked out words. Its face tilted as if looking to one side, but there was a glint in an eye socket that looked amused. "It's a way of life."

"I'll need one hundred thousand up front, as proof that you're capable of doing what you ask. Afterward, you give me the signal, and I'll kill whoever you need." He had killed people for far less though it was harder to do now than it had been twenty years ago.

"Excellent. I've got just the place for you as well. A way of, verifying your skills." The Jester's smile grew in size the more they talked. "And a task, while you're there."

[NPC Conspiracy] (The Button Man)

"Deal," Donald said. Then the man went on his merry way to the world below.

Some time later a number of Voices sat in the room together. These were not the normal Voices that most players saw. Their proclivities tended toward a less than pleasant side of life. The Jester figure with its business suit clacked in happiness every few seconds.

A man with dozens of pins stuck through parts of his body sat there frozen without an expression. Every so often he would yawn and fresh blood welled forth. Lines dripped down from all over his hairless body. Markings at his throat indicated possible damage.

A young girl with tired eyes and a nervous twitch kept tapping the air. The noise disturbed a small corner of the empty darkness. Glass would briefly appear near her fingertips and fade as the sound drifted off. If a passerby dared look into the window that temporarily appeared, they would see a scared human looking back. Never did the same person's face show, sometimes a girl, sometimes a boy, sometimes a child's crib.

After a few minutes, she screamed a loud angry noise and strong nails tore at the flickering glass panes. There was a fresh yell then blood gushed forth, pouring into the room of darkness through the now broken window, like hazy mist. Then the mess faded away leaving a huffing woman.

The Jester laughed again, then nodded. Its face clearly pleased. "We're ready. Let the misguided do what they may, and we shall respond in kind. A life for a life, it seems only fitting to prove we are capable of delivering vengeance," It clacked.

The man with pins shoved into his flesh didn't smile or look sad. It hung there before giving one slow jerk of a nod that would make any human's head itch. The string haired girl went back to her knocking. The only sign of hearing anything the Jester said was a slight smile visible under clumped together strands of hair.

First; any alludes to hard science or actual programming were bent badly to add both character and flavor to the story. For inaccuracies in science, space presentation, inertia, and general misrepresentation of our future AI overlords, I apologize. My only excuses are 'it's a video game', mumble 'future science', and mumble 'fiction fantasy.

This book was an adventure in a lot of ways and almost didn't happen at all. At some point, Hal Pal snuck up on me in terms of importance to both Grant and the overall plot going on. When I started writing, at no point could I have guessed how big a role 'they' would get. Still, I enjoyed writing about Advance Online, a far more Hal Pal friendly universe than Continue Online's game world.

Continue Online as a series is insanely character-driven and as I exited book two (Made) I started to realize what needed to happen. To briefly explain, when writing, I often find myself torn between where the plot is in my head, and what the characters choose to do (and I believe many writers come to this point constantly, hello darkness my old friend...). Making the two mesh and move forward is like shoving overly complex square pegs into a cheese grater full of small holes, then melting the result together and calling it art.

Liz couldn't, wouldn't, and shouldn't sit by and let this happen. Not after what they've been through over the years. Still, Liz and Grant's relationship is very hard to write. However, since the story is about all these characters and not the game itself, we could venture sideways on a detour.

Besides, what sort of evil overlord future robot masters would limit their plot to one game? How silly! A good design comes with error catchers in case something goes wrong, and Mother fully believes that nothing can be completely predicted. Backups, contingencies, and spare parts.

For those of you who rode it out to the end and reached this point, kudos! Rest assured we'll wind back to Continue Online in book 4. The world moves on as we cross the halfway point in this series of Grant.

One day, perhaps someone else will return to Advance Online to explore a science fiction virtual reality universe.

Until then you can receive further updates via frustratedego.wordpress.com or Twitter @FrustratedEgo

Thank you for purchasing this book and reading along.