Continue Online (Book 1, Memories) (44 page)

A
quest popped up, which I needed to regain my senses back before
pressing the deny button. That wasn’t the reason I played this
game, despite Old Man Carver's tendencies. Contemplating exactly how
far spread the Temptress had been was kind of a buzz kill.

I
made up my mind. Never again would
[Identification]
be used on
that Temptress. Some things are better left to the imagination and
Continue had a very intense feedback. Even the pain from before, when
being chased by spiders or acting as Old Man Carver, didn’t
compare to her heady rush. Perhaps because feeling good, especially
that good, was a better motivator than pain.

“
You’re
mumbling.” The Jester’s words clacked around me.

“
Uh
huh.” Plus an undetermined amount of drool was dripping down my
face. Being old and single was not healthy in the face of that, that
whatever.

“
Grant
Legate. Did you have any other questions?”

“
Uhhh…”

“
He’ll
need a moment to recover.” Yet another Voice popped in. I
clenched both eyes shut and refused to use Identification on this one
too. She went on to talk about health levels, elevated fancy words,
some chemical, and Chakra points. All gobbledygook.

“
It’s…”
Words were also hard.

“
Yes?”

“
Your
turn for a question.” I finally said to James. Thinking about
baseball was helping. God help me if I logged out of the ARC to find
an awkward mess.

“
Are
you enjoying yourself, Grant Legate?”

“
I
think so. Yes.” I said.

“
Would
you like to do it again?” James asked.

“
Helping
new players, a mystery, and one great adventure. What more could
anyone ask for?” That actually wasn’t sarcasm, even
though it might sound like it to the uninitiated.

“
Many
things, but your words are well put.” James half turned and
almost faded away. Then it seemed like something occurred to the
black man.

“
Are
you sure? Do you enjoy pretending to be someone else, enough to do it
again?”

“
Honestly?”
James nodded to my question. “We’ll see how this one
shakes out, James. I still haven’t forgiven you for what
happened with my dance program.”

“
You
have twelve days left, make the most of them and I believe we can
deliver satisfaction.”

That
silly pop up box from the Temptress displayed again. This time, it
was titled ‘Instant Satisfaction’. I shuddered and
pressed decline again. For a video game, it was insanely interactive
but that was the attraction. Then I got a favorable increase myself.
An Event titled ‘Willpower Demonstration’.

Score
one for me! Or, un-score, I guess.

Thankfully
Old Man Carver was waking up, so the world about me faded away and
was replaced with my daily life as someone else. I read though an
event log for my time offline. Apparently Carver had another meeting
with the High Priestess of Selena. There was no change in his
alignment according to the text. Not that alignment made a lot of
sense to me yet. I had briefly read something about it in my
guidebook from Beth, but that section hadn’t been super
interesting.

The
[Messenger's Pet]
hadn’t shown up for the day I was
offline, eight hours out of the game had ended up being twenty-four
in-game. No one took notice. There had been a
[Coo-Coo Rill]
raid on the front door yesterday that had caused Old Man Carver to
fall on those acorn things. As a result, I was walking with a limp.
This old man hadn’t invested much in the way of self-healing
skills or magic. There was a section for bandaging, but that only
worked on external wounds. My simulated pain was all internal.

I
went about my morning, picked up a piece of paper along with an
enchanted pen that didn’t require ink, and slowly Carver'd a
path to my bench. Carvering things was another clever series of
thoughts that had crossed my mind while sitting on this bench.

Now
though, I would peruse the map for any hint of a dungeon. WWCD? Would
Carver sit on his rear all day? No, Carver would stomp right through
all the red tape straight towards adventure. Once it became obvious
enough to find.

“
There’s
got to be something on here,” I muttered unintentionally.

“
Whatcha
looking at, geezer?”

“
None
of your business, brat.” I turned the map upside down again. I
looked up and saw Phil. He was munching a cookie he had probably
stolen. Behind him were two of the younger kids. They invaded my
bench rather violently, jostling around until the three of them had a
solid spot to sit. Phil, the oldest, started trying to entice the
[Messenger's
Pet]
from
my hood.

“
Can
I have one of those?” The middle child seemed able to
articulate correctly. The youngest had slurred together most of his
words last night.

“
Only
if you help me figure something out.” Even these annoyingly
cute tykes couldn’t escape from Old Man Carver's demands.

“
Whatcha
figuring out?”

“
Huh?”
I felt lost.

The
youngest giggled at me.

“
Where
an old man would have to go to have an adventure.” I tried to
regain control of the conversation.

“
Them
Dames on Haggle's Corner ain’t good enough?” Looks like
Phil was kind of foul minded. I gave him a halfhearted scowl but kept
both eyes on the map in front of me, scanning over all the sections.

“
A
different sort. I’m looking for one last adventure.”

“
An
adventure? Like in your stories?” The youngest said.

“
Like
those, yes.” I answered her and tried not to smile too much.

“
Those
adventures are dangerous!” Phil shouted loud enough to draw
random stares from those nearby.

“
Is
Grandpa gonna die?” The youngest, a little girl, slurred her
words together. I felt disturbed that a child who might be only three
understood the concept of death enough to be worried.

It
shook me. Parents had to answer this question, had Carver ever been a
father? He certainly had been around enough blocks. He clearly adored
the children or he would never have started telling them stories.
That was an established pattern of his long before I came alone.

“
Eventually.”
If she was old enough to ask then Carver wouldn’t lie. Sure
enough, there was the percentage increase to prove my actions were
right.

“
Are
you gonna die soon?” That sad tone broke me away from my study
and I turned a aching neck sideways to look at the youngest. She had
half crawled over the middle child and was giving me an adorable
pouting face.

“
Only
the Voices know for sure.” I patted her head.

After
all, those Voices may choose to keep the NPC version of Carver
running for however long they desired. My time however, expired soon.
I had better not get this body killed or else these annoyingly cute
children might become depressed. I knew how that felt.

“
Why
do you need an adventure, geezer?” Phil questioned me.

“
Part
of an old man’s last gasp.” Clever Carver! Well, me
anyway. Throwing in the quest name there had been irresistible.

“
What’s
a gasp?” The youngest tried to say.

“
A
sudden breath of air.” I gave a sample gasp trying to be
playful. Nowhere on this map could I find any sort of dungeon. There
goes my clever idea of heroically leading a cadre of new players down
to the depths and defeating some obscure boss. Shame, it had been
pretty good all things considered.

“
You
can’t die, Grandpa Carver.” The middle boy said. He was
still concerned. “Who’d help out the new Travelers?”

I
thought about it for a moment then went with my WWCD instincts.

“
These
are big shoes to fill. Would you like to try?” I gave him my
best adult glare. One that looked at the smaller boy with my face
tilted in challenge.

“
Sure!”

“
How
come you asked him?” Phil had completely forgotten about asking
me why I needed an adventure.

“
Yoo
can’t die, Grandpa.” The littlest said. I gave him my
best old man dismissive grunt. What other options were there? Shatter
her little world and send the tyke home crying?

“
Bah.
I need a dungeon.” I said after a few awkward seconds of
pretending the youngest hadn’t been heard. Hopefully we would
move past this entire subject.

“
That’s
where Travelers go to stop the bad monsters and get rich.”

“
There’s
Locals that go too.”

“
Locals,
eh?”

“
Like
us, you, all Traveler types. Come on, geezer, is your memory going
too?” Phil said with a grin. He was busy eyeing other people
over the back of my bench. NPCs were called Locals, to Locals. How
had I missed that tidbit of information over the last two weeks?
Clearly this map and the new players had occupied too much of my
time.

Bad
hearing coupled with fuzzy vision. Distraction by a dozen random
players and personalities, the standard problems. All excuses.

“
You
kids going to help, or insult me?”

“
What’s
an insult?” The little girl asked.

“
Ask
Mylia.”

“
Auntie
Mylia knows what an insult is?” She practically drooled the
words out. It was enough to make me smile.

“
I’m
sure she does.”

“
Come
on, Phil, we’ve got to go.” The middle boy was awkwardly
pulling away the tiny girl and already partway down the road. Mylia,
in the distance, was beckoning to the kids.