Continue Online (Part 3, Realities) (7 page)

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.

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.

"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?

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.

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.