Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (14 page)

“
Tell
me this isn’t a joke,” I said.

“
Hah!”
He could be heard slapping his knee in the background audio. “No
joke! Our division got a copy from upper management.”

“
But
an Ultimate Edition? You wasted that on me?”

“
Wasted?”
Henry went through a range of emotions quickly before settling on
annoyance.

“
Look
at this!”

“
What?”
What was this now? There were a lot of graphs and measures that meant
very little to me.

“
It’s
our god damn quarterly reports, you single minded idiot! There, we’re
top of the division, top of the goddamn country! And who made that
possible? You! You’ve earned us all bonuses higher than the
price of one game.”

“
But
it’s…” I tried to protest to my boss. An Ultimate
Edition wasn’t a normal copy. There were only a set amount made
at the start, and only a trickle were released every year as the
game's player base grew This wasn’t a one percent thing. This
was one in half a million players.

“
Shut
up. All I want to hear from you is that you’re taking time off
to play with your prize and that you’ll be back to work after.”

“
I
can manage that.”

“
Good.
Maybe now you won’t look so goddamned depressed all the time.”
He cut off the call with a grumbling snap.

I
kind of questioned his sanity over this gift. That thing was easily
worth thousands of dollars; no tens of thousands, possibly even more.
The price tag was insane depending on the time of year.

Food
was required. I needed to eat something and settle my brain before
diving back into the ARC. Breathe. Maybe call Beth and let her know.
No. It could be a surprise. I didn’t even know what the
Ultimate Edition had in comparison to a regular copy. This certainly
explained the alternate introduction.

It
did not explain the dance program acting frighteningly life-like.

“User
Legate.”
Hal Pal had unbuckled from the van and wandered into my front room.

After
everything that happened in my Atrium, this seemed innocent. Odd,
uncommon, but Hal Pal was one of the highest rated AIs in the
country. Not one accident or threatening word. In fact, they were
almost like nannies.

Hal
Pal was owned and operated almost entirely by Trillium employees.
Thousands of its shells were all across the globe. Each one remotely
operated by the same program. A company memo months back implied Hal
Pal was a consortium of intelligences operating in tandem to keep
their software and firmware upgrades going.

“
What’s
up, Hal Pal?” I questioned it.

“
Please
remember to regulate how much time you invest in alternate
activities.” I preferred the personality enabled versions of
Hal Pal that it used while out in the field. Here at home the machine
reduced down to standard choppy robot voice.

“
Are
you talking about the game?” I asked in confusion. My arm
uncomfortably rested on a shelf nearby.

“
Affirmative,
User Legate. Studies have shown that new users often have a hard time
regulating their immersion. This can impact day to day activities.”
It didn't move much while speaking.

“
You
heard Henry. I’m on vacation for a while.”

“
I
do not understand,” It said.

“
Sure
you do, Hal Pal. You’re programmed to understand words like
vacation.” I had taken sick days. I didn’t work all the
time!

“
No.
I do not understand. User Legate does not take vacations.” I
took Christmas and Thanksgiving off. Those should have counted in Hal
Pal's mind. We’ve been working together for two years by now.

“
Well,
this week I do.” There was a pause while the robot looked
almost confused at my response.

“Understood
.
I will suspend this remote unit and continue working my review of
humanity's flawed projections of future possibilities.”

“
Make
sure to give Stranger Danger’s fans a good time,” I said
to the machine. My words felt dry and unenthused.

“
Affirmative.
I have intended to interact with their users for many cycles. A
reduction in remote unit activation will free up processing space and
allow me to do so.” It said.

“
I’m
sure the other employees of Trillium will need their shells even
more.” I wouldn’t be taking care of my excessive workload
for a week.

“
Ah.”
The machine replicated a sigh alarmingly well. “How
unfortunate.” It turned around and ambled back into the van.
Great. Both Henry and Hal Pal were concerned about my well-being.
Exactly what kind of impression did everyone have of me? I logged
back in, happily putting thoughts of Hal Pal and Henry out of my
mind.

Session Four -
Choice of Voice

Everything
was as I left it. The white marble pillar sat peacefully with an
obsidian and gilded book upon it, appearing slightly faded. Dust from
shattered fragments had been cleaned up. Inside the cover was my
name. Gone were the card and hand-print from before.

I
turned to the next page. The first few items were all basic settings.
Choosing interface methods such as pop-up displays, colors, and
borders, I played around with them for a while. Finally, I settled on
something out of place enough to be attention grabbing but different
than my alerts in the waking world. After a review of basic settings
the game message box shifted and the book slammed shut without my say
so.

“
Grant!
Skill activate, use book!” I exclaimed to myself.

Nothing
interesting happened. With a long drawn out sigh, I reached out and
flipped to the first page again. The results were completely
unexpected. Instead of seeing something on the page, the scenery
behind the pillar shifted.

An
almost sterilized landscape formed, marble, like the book's pedestal.
A much taller and complete pillar sprouted from the ground. There
were no cracks or ripples of damage like the one I stood next to. On
top of the pillar was a woman. Ankles crossed, in a white flowing
dress. She stared off into the distance and seemingly took no notice
of me or anyone else. An absent wind fluttered through.

“
Never
could stand a woman on a pedestal.” She must have heard me, as
the woman, blonde locks and all, turned and gave me a bare hint of a
glare. Nothing as crass as a sneer. Not enough action to fully
acknowledge my presence, only the edge of a tightening cheek that
made her lip curl. I turned the page again.

This
one wasn’t even remotely similar. There was a woman, sure, but
she had deep red skin and no clothes at all. She sat in the same pose
as the woman from before on a chair. After a moment, she started to
come off her seat with a saucy stride. My heart jumped abruptly and
face reddened. Getting caught staring was a social taboo. The way she
lifted a leg to step down onto the floor was tantalizing. Seductive
half movements. Her hands effortlessly and coyly covering key parts
of her body as she walked, almost dance-like, towards me. Moments
later, after she captivated me, her body started motions that were
dangerously arousing. I flipped the page again.

A
giant, burly man wearing little more than a few strapped on pieces of
armor, raised a giant sword. His muscles were solid enough to be
carved from marble but glistened with sweat and exertion. That weapon
couldn’t have been light. He roared. I turned the page.

Parts
of this were clear. They were asking me to choose between all these
images of people. Most of them seemed to be archetypes of who knows
what. Hah, archetypes in the ARC program. I tried not to chuckle as I
flipped past the next few. These figures were all clearly following a
theme but likely weren’t as simple as looks alone made them
seem.

An
angelic female, a clearly devilish one, the wild warrior, those were
the first few of a whole list. A Japanese schoolgirl passed through
with a wave and pose. I shook my head and tried not to think about
who might pick that one. Next was a librarian. She even had glasses,
which people rarely had to wear anymore, with surgery being cheaper
than lenses. Page flipping paused on a drill sergeant archetype. The
man was straight out of every military movie I had ever seen. Seconds
later he started screaming.

“
You
are not prepared! You are a weak little man who couldn’t handle
what I have to offer! You keep turning that page right past me,
maggot!” I did while trying to wipe off flakes of spittle he
managed to shout over to me. Then I turned the page back, flipped off
the drill sergeant which set him off again. As I turned onward I
swear the next person was laughing at my antics.

“
That’s
right! Screw that asshole!” Said a young man dressed in a black
leather jacket. I paused for a moment.

“
How
many choices are there?” I asked.

“
One
for every dream under the sun, man. We are legion!” The teen
did a kick and started dancing. I smiled, recognizing it from an old
music video, then waved goodbye. The younger man waved back and kept
right on going, inserting his own sound effects.

It
was interesting and definitely neat. I might have scrolled back
through a few if they didn’t seem so real. Getting caught
staring at the red skinned woman would have been bad for my heart. I
sighed and turned another page, hoping for something that would speak
to me. Not in a literal sense, though, I needed someone that was
relatable.

There
was a yawn again. I looked over my shoulder, pausing halfway between
turning the page away from a child reading a book. The child had been
cute, but relating to younger kids was painful to me. I kept asking
myself endless amounts of questions. Most were of the ‘what if’
variety and those often knocked me out of my happy place.

“
Oh,
you again.”

The
small dragon was perched on an even higher pillar behind me. Where
that one had come from was beyond me. Perhaps the computer had
generated it when the small creature wanted a towering vantage point.
It looked down at my finger then tilted a small scaled head
quizzically.

“
I
don’t know either. There are so many choices and all I see is a
person. Got any suggestions?”

The
dragon rippled in a shrug, both wings fluttering slightly.

“
Yeah.
That’s what I figured.” I turned the page again and the
small child looked up briefly from the book, smiled and waved. Behind
me, there was a purr from the dragon. They parted ways as the next
person came into being.

A
man in prayer complete with a stole. Shortly after was a female in
her matching clothes. Next was a woman complete with baby in one arm.
She looked both tired and pleased at the same time. My sister wore
the same conflicted look as Beth grew up.

“
It
gets better.” I tried to give a reassuring smile, but it felt
fake.