Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (48 page)

A
blacksmith and his two player apprentices received an order for light
metal frameworks. There was a woodcarver who got more orders and was
easy enough to fool. I had to use Carver's map to find someone to do
embroidery and make cushions too. In the end, I had a fairly good
result. It was fragmented still and all over the place.

Old
Man Carver had enough money squirreled away around his house to prove
that the payment itself wasn’t an issue. My issue was being
somewhat secretive with my project. Players from an older generation
would recognize this device once I assembled it. Younger children,
well older teenagers who seemed like children, might not know.

Innovations
from our world had far-reaching impacts upon the world of
[Arcadia]
.
If done right these orphanage kids could earn money. The older ones
especially if they didn't have some other prospect lined up.

And
they wouldn’t need to thieve like Phil did.

I
sat down and slowly started fitting the pieces together. It took me
hours in the real world to find appropriate blueprints and memorize
them. Days in the game had passed while craftsmen did their thing.
New players had quests and got small monitory rewards so they were
pleased. This project of mine was a bicycle and harness that attached
to a carriage.

I
noticed that new players had me as a guide and I had the
[Messenger's
Pet]
. Since new players all started with money, they could invest
some funds to get guided tours all around town. Their money would go
to the people driving which would be the orphans.

I
guess players who stuck around long enough could do the same thing.
They would probably get points to
[Brawn]
,
[Endurance]
,
and
[Speed]
if they survived. Plus, older folks like me
wouldn’t have to hobble around.

Voices
above. I would love to have someone peddle my old virtual body back
to Carver's house at the end of a night. It took almost an hour of
personal shuffling to get anywhere.

“
Whatcha
got there, geezer?” Phil said.

“
A
lot of none ya,” I grumbled. My points constantly bounced up
and down at the seventy-six percent mark. It was getting harder to
jostle them either way. That was a small blessing. Maybe the ghost of
Carver was approving of my actions, as bizarre as they would be for
his recent personality.

“
Looks
weird. Is that a wheel?” Phil had invaded my backyard where all
the pieces were scattered around.

“
What
do you think, Phil?”

“
I
think it’s a wheel. What do you have that needs six wheels?”
He asked. I went over the picture in my head again. This contraption
would be properly balanced, hopefully.

“
Make
yourself useful and help me get this together. I need the cart.”
I waved a tired limb in the youngsters direction.

“
I
can see the cart, but you got no horse to hitch this to. Ain’t
gonna do you much good, your back would give out before getting
anywhere, cus you’re a geezer.” He had at least gotten
closer judging by his voice.

“
Help
or get out, Phil!” My attempt at shouting came out as a cough
instead. Slowly the sun was setting while Phil hammered away. Despite
his attitude, he actually did a fair job of getting the cart portion
together. I grumbled as if displeased but was very happy.

“
Get
these in there. Make sure they fit nice.”

I
had a player help me with the carriage cushions. She was working for
one of the older ladies in town who taught embroidery and general
tailoring skills. I tried to ask for a really nice product, something
with a removable cover that would tuck inward. Too bad this world
didn’t have zippers yet. Plastics and other such materials were
lacking at this point so I had to fall back to other adhesives. Even
the bags used to clean up town were a strange material that wasn’t
really plastic.

“
This
looks kind of lordly. You gonna buy a mule and get it to carry your
old bones down to the water?” Phil was rubbing his hands from
where he banged them while working.

“
No.”
My answer was curt.

“
Whatcha
gonna do with this?”

“
I’m
going to burn it all to the ground if you keep asking me questions.
Or you could keep quiet,” because Carver's spirit gave me
negative points for saying shut up “and wait. At least until
it’s finished.”

“
Is
this what you wanted me to see?”

I
grunted and kept trying to get the bike frame together. The wheels
had been tough to figure out. Rubber didn’t exist. Nearly a
full day went to searching through crafting shops trying to find an
other world counterpart. Turned out there was a fairly similar
material that was refined from tar and ores that gave the same
pliable feeling.

According
to the craft owner it also was fairly hard to break down.

I
had contemplated finding an enchanter, but the town only had one who
required a dozen pre-requisites to even speak with. No players had
ventured down an enchanter's path yet either so I couldn’t
bribe them. Rain proofing would have to be another project.

“
These
are nice. Do you think I could get some for my bed?” There was
a look on Phil’s face that caught me off guard. I forgot how
poor they were over there. The orphanage barely had the money to feed
its charges, much less afford good furniture.

“
Mh,”
I grunted again, unsure how to say anything Carver-esque at this
point. “Phil, since you can’t stop chattering, get me
some food from the pantry. This labor makes me hungry.”

Phil
leaped up and away from his nearly furnished cart while I attached
the wheels to my frame. The wheels were locked into place by old
fashioned iron clips that slid through a hole on either end of the
hollow pipe.

“
Those
don’t look very strong.” Phil was back moments later
munching crackers and meat from my pantry. My share was deposited
onto the ground with a handkerchief wrapped around them.

“
It’s
plenty strong,” I said.

“
Why
the giant holes?” His nosy head poked into my view. He chewed
right next to me and dropped crumbs over our work.

“
Keeps
it light.” The food was a service. My answering Phil’s
question was now considered the reward.

“
Are
those going to hook together?” He was pointing at some of the
bars that I had laid out on the ground.

“
Yes.
Now stop jawing and help.”

“
Okay.”
Phil shoveled another batch of food to his mouth in an uncivilized
manner and started following directions. Another twenty minutes later
and the sun had completely set. The light cast from Carver's cottage
was enough to see our finished product.

“
What
do you think?” I asked.

“
It
looks like a right mess.”

“
Come
back tomorrow morning, I’ll show you how it works.” By
then I would have the chain on. That was the last piece to get
everything together. Well, and grease. Keeping the chain off would
prevent Phil from trying any successful midnight races.

“
How
early?”

“
Sunrise,
boy. Be there.” Old Man Carver's body woke well before dawn and
staggered around. I would let him run on autopilot for most of the
morning routine while I researched in my Atrium.

The
bike ride was my scheme to get orphanage kids on my side. They
already ran messages for people who paid a copper or two. Showing new
players around and carting goods under their own power would earn
them a decent fee. Bicycles didn’t require food or grooming or
shoveling their leavings.

“
Ehhh.”
A groan escaped me. My shoulder wasn’t pleased after all this
exertion. Even my interface warned me that I recently abused this old
body a bit too much.

I
got my body inside the house and took care of a few manual things
while thinking about possibilities. Normally I logged off as soon as
I was done and zoomed off to get sleep in the real world but time was
precious at this point. My clock was ticking and none of these
projects led me towards further conversation with Mylia or finding an
Adventure.

My
flier was still up, I checked, but responses had been minimal. Either
no one had information for me, or no one cared. Perhaps the NPCs of
this world were programmed to ignore out of character behavior.

Did
any of Carver's inventory summon monsters to battle?

No.

Did
any of his journals or people known have great but local adventures
for an old man to go on?

No.

Was
there anything on the enhanced map that provided me a hint?

Way
beyond no.

I
tried too many possibilities. Skill combinations that lead to a
revelation? Divine ascension or other planes to jot to overnight? Any
signs of secret bosses within the town? Impending wars upon our local
area? No, also no, still no, and, of course, no.

My
attempts to find a recently deceased member of Trillium also belly
flopped. Well, there were a few, but none of William Carver's
advanced years. No one resembled his face on the primary board of
trusties. The player’s handbook stated new players were forced
to look similar to their Continue avatar. The only known exceptions
were modifications for alternate species or transformations of that
nature.

I
guess turning into a dragon while retaining some semblance of human
features was unreasonable. A small smile crossed my features as I
pictured a giant dragon with Carver's grumpy face on it. That would
be extremely silly and neat. With one beefy arm added for good
measure.

“
Dragon
man?” I snickered and shook my head.

Nearby
the
[Messenger's Pet]
had started hopping around the house.
Slowly he inspected one object after another in suspicion. Nothing
had changed since the last time he performed this ritual. With a purr
and clack of jaws, the small creature leaped from a bookshelf onto
one of Old Man Carver's tables. More sniffing ensued. Slight huffs
resulted in steam.

“
Don’t
burn anything,” I said.

The
[Messenger's Pet]
looked at me and yawned. I, feeling the
weight of Carver's age and time of night nodded while yawning back.

“
You
figure anything out?”

He
shook his tiny head and huffed again. His eyes blinked slowly as he
looked around. Another yawn and he shook from head to toe. Looking
slightly revitalized he fluttered and leaped away again.

“
What
now?” There was no answer, which was fairly standard. This
little guy rarely actually responded unless bribed with desserts. He
existed in a land of equivalent exchange. William Carver did, James
did, as a player I had yet to be grow used to it.

But
I still wasn’t really a game player, not in my own mind. I was
a man pretending to be William Carver through all the simulated pain
and irritation of dealing with new players. A situation that my mind
hadn’t completely wrapped itself around.