Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (55 page)

“
Mh.”
I clanked the cane against her walkway gravel while pondering what to
do.

“
Seriously,
after all this time, why would you make such an absurd request?”

“
I
have my reasons.” Many reasons, in the form of quests and
desperate attempts. None of that would be sensible to tell Mylia. My
tired eyes glared at the woman.

Stress
was wearing her down and all of it was likely from me. I sighed. One
hand reached inside of Carver's robe to pull out one of his trophies.
This was a prize found while digging around for a proper sword.
Anything that might help me with the
[Maze of Midnight]
mission. Too bad there had been no such weapon lying around. Old Man
Carver's list of belongings didn’t even include a long trail of
twine to lay out.

His
best gear was probably off in some invisible inventory pocket that
was unreachable to me. Drat. I bet he had some superb equipment. Oh
well, that was why I gathered four players for this escort quest.
Plus it felt very game like to be giving newbies this sort of chance.
Apparently the Voices thought so as well or there wouldn’t keep
being pop-up boxes for my actions. I had a feeling that they could
kibosh the whole thing any time they wanted to. Especially that Drill
Sergeant who shouted spittle into my face. That guy would probably
pull the plug immediately given a choice.

I
let a mental prayer go to the future robot overlords and once again
boasted about my polishing skills. Hal Pal would probably get a kick
out of this whole thing. For an AI, it had a surprisingly wide range
of amusement. One day after work I caught the robot shell viewing
kitten movies with a confused expression. That had been an
interesting van ride home, with me explaining to a computer why
kittens were cute.

“
Whatever
your reasons are, it’s no good to the kids. They loved your
stories and now you’ve stopped telling any.”

“
They’ve
never tried to tell you stories?”

“
Well,
they do.” Her frown was extremely obvious as her eyes gazed
into the distance. She was probably remembering prior experiences
with the little ones. Children always babbled about something.

“
All
I’m asking them for is a story. A new one, about anything they
want it to be.”

“
I
don’t understand why. Why change things now?”

“
Because
things change, Mylia. They always have, and always will. Someone has
to be able to tell stories if I…” I had become too
invested into the moment. That wasn’t Carver speaking, it was
me. I dared to look at my progress bar and had noticed a small red
negative mark. William Carver didn’t like to admit his own
mortality. Well screw him, mortality existed. That negative point was
one I would argue to the grave.

“
That’s
no good Mister Carver. What will the children do if you go away?”

“
Life
goes on Mylia. We don’t always get to say goodbye.”

Mylia
looked worried but made no move to leave the doorway. She was clearly
blocking my entrance into the orphanage. Either Mylia blocked me out
of annoyance or worry about our conversation being unfinished.

“
Here.
I found this. It seemed like something you should have.” I
pulled out a necklace of scales. The scales were heavy things. Even
with all the strength Carver had they almost tore off my arm to lift.
Carrying them around in my robe all day had been torture.

“
What
are these?”

“
Yours.
To do with what you will.” There was no mistaking the fiery
spark in her eye. Mylia was slowly growing upset, even beyond upset.
Her face had almost twisted to inhuman rage. My old eyes could make
out some details against the fading light. There was a ripple on her
forehead, for a moment both eyes gleamed a golden hue.

Carefully
using
[Identification]
I gained a bit more information which
confirmed a hunch. Mylia was somehow a half dragon. That was why talk
of my dragon slaying days had upset her so much. I applied every
badly written movie plot available to this situation over the last
few days in order to reach this conclusion. Clearly it had been a
logic leap on my part.

That
and one of the players I sent on a quest to do reconnaissance said
she had a near fit over some meats. I figured her to be a carnivore
of some sort but never seen her eat anything that looked like it came
from an animal. Had the computer generated a half dragon vegan or
something? That would be a neat reason for her to be so peaceful with
humans.

My
follow up question was simple. What the heck was a half dragon NPC
doing running an orphanage? I had suspicions, and maybe three days
left to solve them, assuming this dungeon went well.

“
What
do you suggest I do with this?” The scales in her hand had come
from William Carver's one dragon kill. They were theoretically ripped
from the soft spot under its chin.

“
Give
them the respect I never did.”

“
Oh.”
Her face twisted and this time it wasn’t anger. Not completely.
The redness that had been building up washed away to a pale tone. Her
eyes widened.

“
There’s
a price.”

“
What
is it?” Even her words turned almost soft. This was more like
the Mylia I had first met. Calm, happy. I felt like things were going
in the right direction.

“
One
day, I expect you to tell a story as well.”

“
And
what tale would you expect of me?”

“
Yours.”
I stunned the NPC speechless. Go me! My quest bar had taken a jump
with that declaration. Offering the trophy scales in exchange for
progress with Mylia was exactly what the AI’s expected. Too bad
now I was losing progress due to staying out past nightfall.

“
Do
we have a deal?”

“
I’ll…”
She faded off and looked at the scales in her hands again. This time,
she was almost cradling them. “I’ll think on it. Good and
proper this time, Mister Carver.”

“
That’ll
have to do.”

There
was another pause, far more pleasant as Mylia seemed lost in thought.
After a moment, she gave a small smile and stepped to the side. Guess
the gesture recovered myself to her good graces.

“
Will
you be staying?”

“
Not
tonight, Mylia Jacobs. I’ve lived long enough to know when a
woman needs her space.” Her smile faltered for a moment but
then she nodded. “I’ll be off then. If the Voices are
kind, we’ll talk again soon.”

Only
as I turned away did it occur to me how fatalistic that came out.
There was a very good chance Carver could make it through everything
that might happen. Sitting on a bench all day to survive was still an
option. Yet, Carver hadn’t been that sort of person. He sat on
a bench to help new players, not to avoid trouble.

I
let the autopilot function take a meandering path home and logged out
of my ARC. There was only so much prep work that could be done within
the world of Continue. The rest was would-be notes that Phil could
deliver around town tomorrow right before the dungeon attempt. Old
Man Carver's penmanship was barely legible.

My
house was quiet save for the ARC’s hum of energy. Everything
was in its place. Nothing had been moved or touched. I think that was
the worst part of losing my fiancée. The portion of, of
everything, used to be filled with her. Those first few nights
utterly alone had been awkward. Loneliness didn’t hit until a
few weeks later. Soon I had started purging reminders chunks at a
time.

Clothing
was the easiest to get rid of. Books went next. She had owned a small
shelf with honest to god paperbacks. Most of them were scientific in
nature, blueprints of spaceships and other things. The feel of paper
helped her study easier. She had wanted to go on the Mars Colony
Projects with a blazing intensity. There was no room on such a thing
for a number cruncher like me but if she’d gone they would have
trained me in something too. I would have swept hallways for her.

I
grabbed a coffee and stared out of my front window while wondering
about the roads not traveled. Trying not to dwell on the choices made
to lead where I was. ‘What if’ was a dangerous game for
those who suffered. What if I had made her stay home one extra day?
What if I had convinced her to go on a plane or take the tunnels?
Even an hour later on the next train out?

Any
number of actions could have changed the future. Therapy had helped
me through some of the sadness. Most of it was time to grieve and
realize that I had no way to predict disaster. I was no seer who
could foresee the future. I was no psychic who could sense impending
doom. I was a sad man with a belly that had gotten too big in a house
that was too quiet.

This
whole chain of thoughts was really Awesome Jr. and SweetPea’s
fault. Their sappy, shy love story was enough to dig up wounds. They
clearly played this game to be with each other or at least Awesome
Jr. did. Hopefully, he confessed sometime tonight. If things went
right they would walk out ready to challenge the world tomorrow. I
smiled. Dungeon crawling would be a neat first date. Carver's
journals stated adventures with pretty ladies almost always resulted
in happy endings.

“
Mh.”
Great. Carver's grumbling had invaded my quiet coffee contemplation
time.

“
Mh.”
I made the noise again. A smile grew on my face. Being grumpy in real
life might be kind of fun. It was better than being a sad wounded
puppy.

“
Grr!”
I tried to scowl like HotPants did but ended up laughing at myself.
That woman was a bundle of misplaced anger. I would find her later
on, once I was me and not Carver, then tell her that I wasn't an NPC.
Crud. Was there a non-disclosure clause on my time as Old Man Carver?

My
single serving of coffee was almost out. Experiments with caffeine
and long term ARC immersion had been inconclusive. For my dance
program, the energy helped keep me focused. In Continue, nothing was
clear. The time perception warp was playing havoc with my senses.
Alarms would be set up first thing. To make sure I didn’t
somehow play til dawn and attempt to go to work. Even a quick catnap
in the company van would barely solve that problem.

I
stood up to grab another cup. The timer on my watch gave me an hour
before Carver woke up for the morning. I had played the game
personally to ensure Carver got a nap as well. Otherwise staying up
for the
[Maze of Midnight]
would be near impossible.

The
second cup was saved for mulling over HotPants as a person. She
clearly had some issues in the real world. Abusive ex-spouse if I
were to guess. Everything gave hints as to her nature outside the
ARC. A general distaste for being given orders, the desire to learn
self-defense, short temper. Maybe I was over reading it. She could be
a naturally violent person. Or simple rage issues due to a bad
divorce.

They
weren’t all as straight forward as Pie Master. That man had
shouted for joy at being able to learn cooking. He had gone on for
almost an hour about how the real world had lost its flare when it
came to meal time. Pie Master loved desserts the most. Half his
reasoning had to do with a grandmother who taught him to make a cake
when he was eight.

Some
people were that simple.

Shadow
I didn’t even worry about. That man was set on an image. He
would follow it out to the end. Voices it was hard to call him and
Awesome Jr. men. They technically were. From Carver's point of view,
the one I had been pretending to have for weeks, they were barely out
of diapers.