Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (24 page)

The
little dragon stood, huffing out a stream of flame that had caught
two spiders. He coughed another few little blasts and hopped around
happily. Two bundles of former terror were curling into twitchy balls
while the high pitched whine slowly died. Another spider was clearly
fleeing in the distance.

“
Cupcakes.
I owe you so many cupcakes.” My words slurred and drool
dribbled out my mouth. Poison caught up. The health bar reached zero
while Continue Online went dark to the boasting tune of a tiny
dragon.

With
that awesome message, I logged out of the ARC and stomped around my
house. Death had struck a second time. A penalty of eight hours was
applied and logging back in would be blocked. It was pretty minor
overall, but eight hours in reality was twenty-four in game.
Additionally I would lose skills and character points. My niece had
explained that sometimes other punishments happened depending on what
was going on.

I
confirmed with Beth that my prize was a copy of Continue Online. She
spent an hour babbling about different bits of information and
repeatedly asking for my log in information. My refusal was taken in
stride since I wanted to surprise everyone. That and I hadn’t
actually created a character name. I was torn between getting a name
and punching James in the face for those giant spiders.

After
my disturbing experience, a walk outside was needed. I flashed a hand
over the external ARC display to put it into sleep mode. My Atrium
was a giant mess and that little dragon was once again tearing into
cabinets. I sighed and opened up the shopping interface from outside.
Moments later there was a fully stocked counter with fruits and other
goods. I even spent the three dollars on a virtual cake. The small
terror sent wrapping paper flying all over my digital house.
Programming should auto clean up all that trash if left alone long
enough. Or maybe not. Glass shards still lined one side of the room.

“
How
the heck did you alter the program that much?” I poked a finger
through the holographic display. “You better clean up after
yourself this time.”

The
[Messenger's Pet]
had set two spiders chasing me aflame. Even
though I died it was worth the price of virtual food. Assuming he
hadn’t broken the program enough to require restocking. I
better disable remote access to my Atrium from family and friends.
The last thing I wanted to explain was my new pet. A part-time
miniature dragon was miles better than cats. Odd that no one had
thought of putting one into the ARC online store. Maybe they couldn’t
program something that complicated or it hadn’t been approved
by the company. Cats went anywhere from fifty dollars on up, all for
something that wasn’t real.

My
first week off from work was nearly over. Time dilatation wasn’t
set that high yet according to James. Consequently the game minutes
were the same as real time. Henry Uldum had extended my one week
vacation to two. That was useful I guess. My coworkers had sent me
nasty messages about how I was cutting into their lazy time. None
showed any signs of being aware that I picked up the Ultimate
Edition.

Progress
inside the program hadn’t exactly been stellar. All the events
combined to put me on par with an entry level character. Only the
event results seemed different. And one tiny dragon that was now
wallowing in wrapping remains like it was catnip.

I
sighed and walked outside for fresh air.

Each
movement hurt. Those feedback bands were effective. Articles online
explained the science away by reciting nerve ending activation
signals. Comparing them to a real workout showed an almost ninety
percent gap. Playing the game and exercising, however minor, was
worthwhile.

An
hour later, after I made it down to the store for supplies, I was
ready to log in again. I spent a few minutes in the Atrium and
straightened out the mess left behind. Post cleanup allowed me to see
glass refreshing inside the cabinet and food repopulating on the
shelves. My little dragon buddy hadn’t completely broken the
Atrium’s programming. There were still two doors open, one to
the dance program, and one to Continue. I hadn’t been able to
touch the dance one since the strange possession of my fiancée's
image.

Continuing
through Continue was the only real option. I stepped inside. The room
was dark once again. Dim light brought attention to the middle where
a familiar pillar and book sat open, waiting. James stood there, arms
crossed, looking pleased.

“
You
made it!” James sounded surprised.

I
glared.

“
Were
you upset?” He asked.

“
I
wasn’t happy.” I looked at the dragon that was pacing
around on top of the book. “Thanks, little guy.” My small
dragon pal hummed and did a few circles trying to chase its lengthy
tail.

“
That’s
not a very good answer.”

“
Yes.”
I had been upset. The walk helped. Humming the a song from my dance
program and imaging the motions put me back into a happier frame of
mind.

“
Very
well. Your turn, Grant Legate.”

“
Let’s
fix that next.” I tried not to grind my teeth.

“
You
have the power to change things, Grant Legate, as I’ve told you
before.”

“
I
need to pick a character name.”

“
And
write it down here.” James seemed to have everything already
prepared. Part of me should be disturbed that my next goal was so
easily read by a computer.

The
thought of a character name had crossed my mind over the last few
days. Specifically when James, or one of the other Voices, persisted
on using my first and last name. The problem was that most of my game
names from years ago were a few flavors of stupid. My past names
include; television show characters, cartoon characters, comic
heroes, and more. None of them seemed appropriate for a game like
this.

“
Second
thoughts, Grant Legate?”

“
Trouble
deciding.”

“
I’ve
always found it interesting, the names your kind use. We had a girl
who went by Sword Princess, but she prefers a staff. One man who
called himself Shadow, among another fifty with the same name.”

“
That
sounds about right.” I bet Shadow liked to stealth around
in-game and stab people in the back. Mysterious I’m sure. Forty
of the fifty were probably utter jokes and half a poser each. “I
don’t know what to pick for myself.”

“
Other
players name themselves after fantasy lives they’ve built. Some
chose heroes or people they aspire to be. Great names in your world,
founding fathers, names that mean powerful things.”

“
None
of that sounds like me.”

“
What
kind of experience do you want to have within our world?” James
asked.

“
I
want a dis…” I started to explain.

“
A
distraction. Yes. Is life in your world so terrible?”

I
stood over the book, quill in hand, small dragon rolling around in
boredom and decided how to answer. James often asked inane little
questions but sometimes he poked the tender spots too.

“
No.
Not really, James. Too familiar sometimes.”

“
Familiarity
is bad?” He questioned me.

“
Reliving
the past is painful,” I said.

“
Yet
you dance with a false image of your deceased fiancée, and
indeed have danced with her for over a year now.” James poked
at my emotional wounds. I hadn’t actually told him that she had
passed. I rarely let myself admit it. Hearing it out loud was like a
punch in the gut. Part of me would welcome the giant spiders right
about now.

“
You
crave a distraction. You focus on work with an almost zealous fervor,
so much so that your manager forced you to take a vacation.” He
had clearly done his homework when accessing my ARC.

“
James.”
I clenched my eyes. The man had found something truly painful to ask
about. Yet it wasn’t even the asking, it was laying it all
bare. When I did it the situation was under my control. My terms.
When someone else did it everything felt so much more real and
painful.

“
Here
you are, on the verge of a new world. You can choose to reinvent
yourself, to throw caution to the wind, yet you can’t even
decide a new name.” James said.

“
It’s
not that easy.” I protested.

“
Really?
Tell that to a father who walks away from his family. Tell that to a
person who quits their job without a moment’s hesitation. To a
drugged up woman who chooses another high over their child.”

“
I
haven’t done any of those things."

“
So?
Those are merely examples, Grant Legate.” James almost spat the
words. I wanted to be mad, but the only thing in my vision was that
stupid quill and a blank space. “Your world and ours both allow
people these chances, however right or wrong. Anyone can walk away
and reinvent themselves."

"It's
not that easy to be someone different."

"Bah.
People are who they choose to be, every moment of every day defines
them. You’ve defined yourself as a workaholic who can’t
let go of the past. Why?”

“
Because…”

“
Why,
not, let, go?” Each word sounded like a drum.

“
Because
I don’t want to let go!” I yelled at the black man.

“
Then
be distracted. Pick a name. Visit another world. Be someone else and
maybe you’ll find something else to hold onto.” He
remained unruffled by the shouting.

“
I
don’t want to let go of her.”

“
She’s
already gone from your world.” James' words hurt.

I
was beyond painfully aware that she was gone. Identifying her body
was a pretty clear indicator. Her parting hadn't been slow or
peaceful, no, our separation had been swift and sudden. Even now it
felt like an open wound that only stayed together with duct tape and
prayer. And what did James mean by gone from my world? Dead is dead.
I spun on the other man.

“
What
are you saying? Is that some clever hint? Is this some messed up
trick relating to how she came to life over there?” Four words,
gone from your world, had sent me into momentary rage. The disturbing
moment of realism in my dance program hadn't been caused by a system
update. “Is she in your world somehow? You owe me answers.”

“
Not
exactly, Grant Legate.”

The
bottom of my sanity dropped even further.

“
Not
exactly what?” I spat the words back at the large black man. He
seemed indifferent to the anger.

“
She’s
not exactly in our world.”