Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (27 page)

"Liz."
I had to tell her.

"Then
we'll have to watch things carefully again. Shit, Grant, do we have
to do this every year?" Liz responded.

"Liz."
I tried to get through to her again. Maybe the Second Player helm was
running poorly. Maybe the internet in my room had dropped in and out
of service.

"And
what am I going to say to Beth? She's a teen, but she isn't stupid,
Grant!" My twin sister had gone back to pacing around the room.
Her footsteps were heavy enough to clomp in the grassy riverside.

"Liz!"
I shouted.

"What,
Grant?" She was only interrupted for a moment. My sister had a
wild look to her eyes. "Jesus. I don't know."

"Thank
you." I didn't know what else to say. There wasn't enough in the
world to repay her for even trying to help me pick up the pieces.
Only the drugs in my system kept the feelings of absolute
powerlessness away. Every time I thought about the loss it clenched
my heart. The cracks of my life were that much more obvious. And it
felt like those thoughts crossed my mind all the time. Grant, the
Broken Record.

"God
dammit, Grant. God dammit." Liz was crying. God how bad had I
messed up? "No. No, I'm sorry. You're recovering. I know, they
said I shouldn't take it out on you, but, Jesus!" My sister was
shouting by the end.

"Thank
you, sis," I said it again.

"Just,
just sit tight. I'll be there in a few hours." Liz still
couldn't look directly at me. The first time had been bad enough and
here we were going through the whole process again. I watched my
sister wave an arm in the air and her image started to fade.

My
own interface faded slowly. Both eyes were unfocused as a
disconnection screen came into being. It counted down from ten. Each
second was like a funeral march celebrating reality's return.
Finally, the world was mostly dark with the smallest bit of light
piercing up through the helmet's bottom. I slid the device off my
head and set it on a table next to the hospital bed.

After
months of searching and calculations, I had managed to get some
things straightened out. Not myself, not perfectly. My life was too
far gone and even an entire roll of duct tape wouldn't solve it. I
shook my head while trying not to think about the missing piece of my
life. It was nearly a year and a half since my
fiancée
had passed taking our unborn child with her.

"Are
you sure this is what you want to do?" Liz asked me. I was
staring at a series of spreadsheets across her kitchen table. They
were digital projections like so many things in life. It was easier
to clean up a computer image. Plus voice commands worked when the
program was well done.

"It
is." I nodded.

"And
you're okay with this new job?" Liz sat there with a coffee mug
in her hands. That was her comfort method. Often the aroma of coffee
beans mixed with vanilla would spread throughout her home after a
rough day. My sister didn't like her bosses.

"The
hours are flexible. I can work as much or as little as I want."
I kept my voice positive.

"I'm
still not sure if you should work for them." Liz shook her head
over the mug of coffee. She wasn't even drinking, only sniffing it.
"You know how much I don't like those machines."

"They're
here to stay, plus this way I have job security. My old market isn't
what it used to be as the AIs improve." The degree I had in
accounting and business was absolutely useless now. Machines could
predict market trends and stock changes faster than any human. Their
accuracy was often off the chart.

"So
you go from managing all that money to being a grease monkey for the
machine?" Liz set down the cup and stared at the images
scattered over her table.

"Not
even that," I said. The job was more like being a mouthpiece for
the machine. My part of the work would be minimal. We both turned as
my niece, Beth, bounded up the stairs. She had come in from visiting
a friend or something. It was hard to believe that she would be
eighteen soon.

"Are
you still going to visit us, Uncle Grant?" Beth said while going
straight for the fridge.

"I'll
drop by a lot. I need to find my own space." I smiled at Beth.
She seemed so carefree compared to her mom and I. It was amazing to
think that we had ever been that young.

"Alright,
I've got to log in for school." Beth had buttered bread in her
mouth and a container of water in each hand. She managed to wave
goodbye with a few free fingers.

"I'm
glad the ARC is working for you." It had been my first purchase
with this new job. Ten thousand dollars up front for something the
size of a twin bed. The price point could have been higher, but
Trillium had given me an employee discount.

"Oh
it's great, I don't have to commute anymore! Mom kept making me take
the bus." Beth said while chewing on her bread. She was walking
backward towards the stairs while talking.

"It's
good for you." Liz wiggled a finger at her daughter. I tried not
to laugh as Liz sounded more and more like mom. Soon she would be
nagging Beth to find a good husband who would be a doctor. Not that
doctors actually performed operations anymore. Most operations were
done by machines and computer programs that reacted faster with more
precision.

"Bleh
to that. I'll be eighteen soon, and I can't be taking a bus."
Beth said as she approached the stairs.

"Alright.
You go to class, let your Uncle and I talk." Liz waved her
daughter off and Beth nodded happily. Soon she was down the stairs
and in her room.

"You
know that the monitors will still be in place, right?" My sister
whispered.

"I
know. I'm okay, Liz." I said. The doctors had told me all about
the rules for moving out on my own. There was a long list of do's and
don'ts in order to meet insurance requirements. Part of me longed for
the days where a person could vanish into the hills and never be
heard from again.

"No,
you're not." Liz responded slowly.

"I
need time away from everything," I said. Every damn thing on the
planet reminded me of her and it was killing me. Staring at the
ceiling at night, going out to our old car, driving by the old house
to talk to renters.

"That's
avoiding, Grant. You're avoiding." She had gone through all the
courses with me. Liz often talked trash about other people, she got
mad at the drop of a hat but was nothing but supportive in the long
run.

"I've
got to do something, though." I put a hand on the pile of images
and pulled up the small houses image. This was where I would end up
once everything cleared. Would my past keep haunting me there?

"So
what, you're going to sit at this new house, and work yourself into
oblivion and hope everything gets better?" Liz was back to her
coffee. This time, she was sipping at it.

"I'll
still do my meetings, I'll still make my sessions. I'll show up at
work. What else can I do but try to go on?"

"When
Beth's," her lips curled distastefully "asshole father ran
off, I cried for weeks, Grant. Weeks."

"I
know."

"And
I would have never survived it you hadn't stood up for me to mom and
dad." She took a big gulp of coffee then stared down. I spared
her a quick glance and smile.

"You
were in pain, of course I would help," I said slowly. We had
been seventeen then. Neither of us knew a damned thing about life at
that age. Twenty had been so long ago too. I wasn't engaged, didn't
have my degree, hadn't even bought a house. There were so many
differences.

"And
I had to face the reality that Beth wouldn't have a good father
figure in her life." Liz was quiet. Her eyes gazed off into the
distance before she took another gulp of coffee. "Not that any
of the others were worth much either."

"You
should have taken him for child support," I said. Beth's father
demonstrated absolute scum qualities by running off like that. We
still had no clue where he had ended up.

"No,
no I wanted nothing to do with that man, and I still don't. That's
not the point." Liz said. I could almost hear the coffee mug in
her hands cracking under pressure. "If you are in trouble, then
let us, let me know. We, I owe you, Grant."

"We're
family." My sister said softly. It was the same line I had used
when helping her with the bills after Beth's father dropped out of
the picture. The simple statement made me feel guilty all over again.
For being so broken, for being able to keep it together. Other people
moved on after a year. It hurt, but they somehow did it. Not me. In
my heart, I still clung to the memory as if it was my only lifeline,
which was almost spitting in the face of my sister's kindness.

"Damn
right. And if you ever scare me again with these sorts of threats,
I'll kill you myself." Liz said. She walked off down the hall
and left me alone at a kitchen table full of my future.

Two
months after that conversation everything got a final seal of
approval. I was certified as tentatively stable. My insurance company
was on board. My old house had been successfully sold to the renters
who seemed eager to make things official. My new home was hours in
the other direction but still close enough to Liz and Beth. That way
if I had a bad night, home was only a car ride away.

I
had set up a few other purchases as a result of my job. Things that
Trillium easily provided to all contractors. Liz could have her
coffee as comfort, I would have a dance program. Part of me felt
ashamed to use a dead woman as the basis for my dance partner. The
other part of me wanted to hold onto any remaining image of her in
order to keep myself together.

The
doctor said I had complicated bereavement issues. None of the
clinical explanations helped. My psychiatrist had said that finding
the will to continue was an exercise in distraction. Not avoidance,
but finding other things to focus on and live for. We had discussed
the move and he suggested that it might be a good way to progress
with my life. Changing where I worked and lived was a thin line he
warned. Overworking was my last major crime now that I had given up
drinking again.

This
was my life now. If overworking kept me around for Liz and Beth, then
it was a small price.

Session Eight
- Grumpy Old NPC

Transitioning
wasn’t hard or sudden. I basically went to sleep and woke up as
another person. A doctor could have told me to count backward from
ten with the same impact.

After
waking up, there were a lot of changes. Everything ached immensely.
The throbbing pain served to remind me how amazing this game was.
These weren't sharp jabs of simulated pain. This was everywhere, from
everything. Breathing was hard too, but getting easier the more I
looked around.

I
tried to lift one arm and weakness stole my strength. It took too
much energy. Eyes drifted around and took note of a cane in one hand
that I had gripped to near death. My fingers were locked in a curl
that seemed permanent.

The
view was probably beautiful. I was on a bench sitting while staring
at a sunset over the ocean. Things were fuzzy and no matter how many
times my eyes blinked it didn’t clear up. Birds cried out from
above. Squinting wasn’t bringing them into view.

“
Ehhhhhh.”
A noise escaped me as I shifted to one side. Switching which leg was
crossed over the other hurt.

People
chattered nearby. Children played on a beach and built sand castles.
Some adults did as well. It took some focus to keep my eyes from
drifting asleep, but I could see a difference between the figures.
Players had visible icons above their heads, simple green ones, a red
bar that would fade in and out as I stared. Everyone else didn’t
have bars, they must have been computer generate characters. In other
games, they would be called non-player characters or NPCs for short.
Parents dodged after little ones. Guards patrolled the beach in twos,
I saw a vendor selling items out of his little cart.