Continue Online (Part 3, Realities) (27 page)

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.

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.

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.