Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (34 page)

My
most recent adventure was dealing with another new player.

“
Are
you sure this is the right way?” The woman wore starter clothes
comprising of a thin shirt and pants that all new players were given.
Her wide hips pulled the pants tightly around her legs. I glossed
over her username like every other new player to come my way.

“
You
wanted a training hall. This is the right way.” This latest
charge had demanded I walk her to the destination instead of handing
over a map.

“
Are
you sure?”

The
bench was starting to sicken me anyway. One week down, three to go.
Too many of these new players had shown up recently. They were about
half and half in terms of attitude versus confusion.

“
Yes.”

“
I
don’t believe you. You’re senile. I’ll bet you’re
programmed by the same people who made my coffee machine.” Even
her footsteps sounded angry as we made our way down the street.

“
What’s
a coffee machine?” I feigned ignorance.

“
Stupid
computer.”

We
were only a few vague city blocks away. There were stands, stores,
and one or two rows of housing, but I could see the roof of the
training hall from here. I, Grant Legate, had never been inside, but
Carver's map had tons of information.

“
Over
there.” I sat on a bench and pointed out the destination.
Moving around as William had good days and bad, today was somewhere
between. Bench time was delightful.

“
This
doesn’t look like a training center.”

“
What
did you expect?” Queen of the hate filled frump didn’t
like my question. She was all hips and anger.

“
I
don’t know. People, rules, a guide, something.”

“
Try
walking inside. See if Madam Hall is there.” Madam Hall was one
of the people that managed the training building. She was also half a
brick from the dossier on Williams maps

“
You’re
a rude machine.”

“
Get
what you give.” I calmly responded.

“
Jerk.”

Bets
were on this woman earning Madam Hall's anger. Especially since she
didn’t like being called Madam, or Hall, she preferred Peg.
According to my notes, the woman would assign extra duties to anyone
who addressed her the wrong way.

Hopefully
by the end of today this player would understand being rude wouldn’t
get her far. Or maybe it would, there seemed to be options and paths
for every type of person. I sat and read the latest journal to pass
more time, putting the future of Continue's newest player out of my
mind.

I
can’t believe those idiots each got their own assignment. In
order to sign off on the project we had to provide them an incentive.
Part of me would have been perfectly comfortable keeping these
adventures to myself. Yet, there are too many things, too much for me
to handle on my own.

Eventually
I’ll have to slow down. The medics have once again reminded me
how little time is left. At least like this, here, I can make every
second count. I stayed on that boat for three weeks talking to
sailors about myths and legends, trying to plot out my next
exploration. Some of these quests would require an army, which I
don’t have. Eventually, there will be other Travelers though.
Eventually. Someone will have to show them the ropes and make them
understand how real this world is.

Well.
Was that why William Carver played as a new guide? His passages
seemed to indicate a medical issue. It wasn’t enough to stop
him…

Oh.

William
had a real world problem and a time limit. He was playing Continue to
explore the world and enjoy the four to one compression. This made a
lot more sense once I realized a player had written these journals.
Oh. That’s why he was a guide to new players! He was showing
them the ropes. I turned over the journal and nearly giggled in
happiness. This was great. That might be why I stalled out on my
progress over the last day or two. Something in my actions was
lacking compared to Carver's expectations.

“
MMmh.
What do you think, Little Savage?” I asked the tiny dragon. He
was dragging a stick along the ground while growling around the edge.
I couldn’t decide if the small creature was more like a cat or
dog. No, clearly cats and dogs were like dragons. That was it. He
didn’t respond to Little Savage. Honestly the
[Messenger's
Pet]
didn’t
respond to any name I attempted to attach. Food, though, the creature
responded to food at any point.

I
closed the book and asked myself, what would Carver do?

The
problem was me. I wasn’t following through, on anything. Four
volumes of the man’s thoughts and I could tell when tasked with
something he went full bore. Me? I hadn’t tried to find a
heroic battle. I hadn’t put serious work into figuring out
Mylia. I was nearly flippant when assigning people their quests.
Painfully I stood up. It required summoning all the bull-headed
determination that could be applied to a deceased William Carver.
Once stable I walked towards the training building.

Inside
was misleading. The building itself was half covered and led out to a
yard that was beaten by the passage of hundreds of players. Rain,
sweat, and blood had matted into the dirt to make it harder than the
cobblestone walkways. All the best stuff hid under cover. Peg Hall
was across the yard near one of the training dummies. She argued,
loudly, with the new player about something.

I
looked around with my fuzzy eyesight. Information boxes popped up
with vague information. A set of beaten straw dummies sat under the
covered area I wandered into. There was a bar dropped across saw like
holders that went up a tall wall. Weapon racks with equally damaged
belongings.

“
Huh.”
I wandered the edge of the room, ignoring the screaming match. Peg
seemed a step away from getting physical. The wide hipped ball of
anger was oblivious.

“
Huh.”
This latest rack had four types of swords. According to Old Man
Carver's skill swords were the favored weapon. He had preferred over
the top two handers in many of his stories.

I
picked one up while Peg resumed screaming orders. I chose Peg for
this newest player because their personalities would clash. Carver's
map had alternate options, one of the males at the training grounds
was an almost supermodel in appearance. His notes also indicated a
tendency to sleep with anything moving. That seemed like a bad
combination.

Goodness,
this sword was heavy. This was strange. It wasn't the weight dragging
at one side and how disproportionate the weapon looked compared to
Old Man Carver's hands. No, all Old Man Carver's aches and pains
seemed to diminish in a wave of energy. Putting my second hand over
the hilt only made the difference stand out more. Carver was
extremely comfortable holding a blade.

I
tried to take a stance, slowly edging until the balancing points felt
right. I, Grant Legate, was no sword master. Instead, my skills came
from Old Man Carver's body wanting to lean certain ways. Falling into
comfortable patterns was easy with my dancing experience. Swinging
around a hefty weight was familiar.

“
What
are you doing, William?” Peg abruptly turned from her shouting
match and looked at me.

I
grunted and stood uncomfortably swinging a blade in front of the
professional. But this moment, holding a weapon like this, was
pain-free. I wanted to enjoy that for as long as possible.

“
William!
I swear to the Voices you’ve lost every sense of sanity they’ve
graced you with. Put, that, down!”

A
scowl crossed my face, but both arms held the pleasant pose. This was
like being completely and utterly relaxed but still taut at the same
time. Carver's body felt almost ready for anything. The straw dummy
next to me was practically quivering in terror.

Oh.
A bar identified as Stamina was starting to drop quickly. I had
cleverly placed it next to my hunger bar. They were both measures of
my ability to last. The stamina bar had been helping me for the last
few days in traveling around. Guess Old Man Carver couldn’t
hold a weapon too long, no matter how positive the action felt. With
my remaining energy, I let go of my awkward stance holding the sword
and racked the weapon.

“
What
were you thinking, William?!”

“
I
know my limits, Peg.” I had a very clear bar to outline them.
Add in six days reading and performing inside the skin of another
player and limits were extremely visible. He had come to this world
to hunt dragons with the last years of his life. Then, since I
assumed he succeeded, retired to raise up a new generation.

“
What
do you think?” The cane was much lighter and much easier to
wave around at the new player.

“
Her?
Is this your fault? Voices have mercy, why would I want to deal with
this woman? Give me a young, strapping boy anytime. They’re fun
to watch sweat and so much more reasonable.”

“
But
not her?” I ignored the NPC's dreamy look.

“
No!
She storms in here, and demands I teach her how to fight, and refuses
to work for it.” Peg's arms waved in disgust and crossed. The
wide hipped woman was busy swinging a staff of some sort at the other
straw dummy. Even my untrained eye could see how bad she was doing.

“
She’s
energetic.”

“
Possessed
more like,” Peg said. I tried not to get thrown off my game at
her apt description of my own state. Luckily Old Man Carver was slow
to respond.

“
It
happens.”

“
I’ve
seen Travelers swing like her before. They’re violent. All the
time.”

“
We
are what life makes of us.” My shoulders gave a tiny shrug.

“
Voices,
I don’t believe that. You’ve worked with them more than
anyone. Voices, you even warned us they’d be coming months in
advance, are they all so angry?”

I
debated the worth of answering her question. Old Man Carver didn’t
like responding to questions without an exchange of some sort.

“
Peg,
you help an old man remember how to swing a sword, and I’ll
answer any questions you might want about Travelers.” That
comment gained me a few, even after admitting my age out loud.

“
Years
now, and I feel like I don’t understand any of them. They rush
through lessons until they break apart, and come back again for
more!” Peg threw both hands in the air and rolled her eyes.

I
stood there resting on the cane. My normal aches and pains were
slowly returning. The sensation was a far cry from the constant
numbing existence I lived while being logged into the ARC.

“
I
mean some of them, they’re like our people, even their sayings
and strange words make sense after a while. But Voices, all those
fresh to our world, they come in so…”

The
wide hipped new player was yelling at the straw man. Her words had
degenerated into senseless tones that came out sharply.