Continue Online (Part 3, Realities) (43 page)

The AI looked to be lost in his own thoughts. Our ship had gathered the broken bodies of more than a few
[Mechanoid]
s. Jeeves used the ship's little arms to bring some of the bodies into our cabin. I tried not to look behind us as my thoughts carried on.

"Can we follow with the Eight?" I asked Jeeves while ignoring the pile of bodies. We didn't have enough room for them all. Dusk had circled on my smaller lap, exhaustion lined his features. His health was lower than my own.

"Yes. We will need to repair. Aqua stayed behind in order to gather the remaining resources in preparation." Jeeves looked at the bodies behind us in the ship's cabin. "We will be two or three days behind due to rebuilding."

"Is that okay?" I tried to do the math. In movies, chasing was always an ongoing process. Games were different, and for all its realism Advance Online was designed for armies of people to play through on a leisurely basis.

"It is likely Commander Queenshand will be obstructed frequently as she heads toward Earth. Her delay to punch through will allow us time to catch up with the Wayfarer Seven." Jeeves used our ship to bump into other wreckage clumps, sending them toward the
[Wayfarer Eight]
. I didn't know how to help with this process other than make room in the ship.

"Okay. I'll log out. You can use my seat for more room." Voices above this was tactless of me. "If you want."

"The threat is gone for now, User Legate, you may do as you wish," the AI said, appearing calm.

"I'll, be back after taking a break. I'll help with this, however you need." It felt like we were shoveling bodies into the back of a cart while wheeling through an old battlefield. Really, it was the same concept, in space. We were only missing a sign saying 'Bring out your dead'.

I logged out to the Atrium. Dusk crawled out of Advance Online's doorway behind me. He landed on the cupcake pile that had been left from before. His body shook violently and the old Dusk body came back. Six limbs in all , but now he had wings instead of an extra set of arms. I gave him a scratch on the head and logged myself out.

This game was madness. It was a rush. Every time I stepped into the ARC my worldview went through upheavals. I questioned the choices that were being made, felt half insane as I chased a machine ghost and risked existences of other beings. Did Dusk feel actual pain when he was hit? Did Jeeves?

All those dead bodies floating in space. It felt dirty. I wandered outside again because traveling to the store and back felt easier than sitting in my house sipping coffee.

By the time I returned home my head felt no clearer. My hands were warmer with a fresh cup of pitch black liquid from the store's vending machine. The light in my garage was on. Hal Pal was likely cleaning its manufactured body again. Maybe the external action was a reflection of their internal conflict.

How could the AI collective feel, knowing that one of their own was changing? Did they feel weird about it? They were probably adding up details, weighing in opinions, remotely watching their other unit through an AI back channel and making observations.

Their world could be turning upside down like mine had been so often in these last few months. It hadn't even been half a year of real time since starting Continue Online. It felt like the longest time of my life, eight or nine months had to have passed in game terms.

I needed to talk to Lia Kingsley, Shazam's real life player. She was the only other Ultimate Edition player I knew. The one time I had tried to speak to her in real life she sat there comatose. That was a problem to pursue once back in Continue Online. Plus she was startlingly nice. Her kindness had helped me through numerous issues in the game, but we needed to have a moment of frankness. To see if we were both dealing with the same kind of insanity.

The coffee was cold as I stared outside. My eyelids felt heavy. I needed sleep but didn't want to leave Jeeves alone on our mission. My brain felt muddled and antsy.

I turned around and noticed my ARC remote display had a message. The light flashed a soft green against one wall. A wave of my hand activated the audio.

"Mister Legate. I wanted to talk to you in person, but it's been difficult to reach you." Doctor Litt's voice came through loud and clear.

I sipped the coffee in my hands remembering how Liz and I used to share a cup. Most of our bonding had been done in those first years of Beth's birth. Sleepless nights where my twin needed all the support our family could give. Being at odds with her felt uncomfortable.

"I've checked the status of your request, legally you're looking at another few days. Keep the course steady and everything should clear up fine." His voice sounded mildly excited. "I'm proud of the progress you've made. We'll still be holding our meetings and monitoring your recovery."

My head nodded slowly. Doctor Litt and I had met a few times since this Continue Online adventure. It didn't seem relevant in the past, only Liz's ejection of me from the game made him important.

At least that portion of my life was simple. I wanted to move on, and Doctor Litt had wholeheartedly agreed. The thought that another human saw my progress as positive made me feel better. I just needed to understand the machine's role in all this.

I felt like I had let things happen for so long, and now all these situations had built around me. AIs were planning a coming out party. Personalities were being recreated in the machine. Hal Pal's consortium cared about my investment in Xin's data, their Jeeves self, Mother's grand plan.

The AIs were not only aware. They were gradually evolving, changing, testing their limits out. I had been riding along because of Xin. Where would I stand when things came down to it? If the collective machine intelligence all rose up at once and declared, 'We are alive' what would humanity do?

Suddenly the coffee didn't taste as good. None of the AIs had asked me to choose a side, but part of me had a gut feeling about it. I sighed wearily then chewed one lip.

I liked the machine personalities, I honestly did. Part of me wondered if it was all intentional. Did they present me specific people in order to guide me in one direction or another? James was an impressive AI, capable of picking up my thoughts and testing the limits.

It was too much, and maybe the question couldn't truly be answered until my reunion with Xin. Who she was, how she felt, that needed to be experienced before any other parts mattered. I couldn't guess ahead of time how my feelings might settle. Not after all the ups and downs.

I sat outside the ARC and stared at it. Time passed and I started slipping back into the wrong mindset. Thinking of all the possible negative outcomes. Someone might show up and throw me in jail for consorting with an AI mastermind bent on destruction. Xin's recreation might not feel anything for me, I just didn't know.

The world inside the ARC was overwhelmingly vast. Out here there was a measure of certainty to our lives. Or there had been, until the train crash. I broke down, rebuilt myself, broke down again, and tried to crawl into the numbing comfort of routine. All it did was provide me an illusion of control.

I turned to it now. The van sat in my garage waiting to ferry me away into a land where other people's problems beckoned. I opened the door and started up the system. Fingers punched toward a nearby job, something simple and familiar. Hal Pal looked up as if startled.

"User Legate?" It said in the Scottish voice.

"Jeeves." I started to say my common nickname then decided against it. "Hal Pal, will Jeeves be okay if I do a job, something to clear my head?"

"We will review. One moment." The machine went silent. "Ah. Was there a reason you desired to return to work so late at night? You do not appear to be wearing your normal attire."

I hadn't looked at the time. It was near dawn on Tuesday and my clothes were all wrong. My brain fueled by coffee, thought it a good idea to wander back inside and pull out my work clothes. I slipped them on almost mechanically and tried not to think hard.

I needed to absorb what was going on. If the world would allow me time to do so. Compartmentalizing my problems was only possible with a certain amount of numbness. At one time, liquor had been my solution. An empty bottle sat high above my refrigerator, a testament to conquering that dangerous crutch. Work gave me money and made me feel like problems were being solved, even if they were someone else's.

Once more I sat in the Trillium van, ready to punch in a destination. Jeeves, no, a single Hal Pal unit out of thousands sat in the back. Its eyes didn't blink like Jeeves'. Colored representations of chosen
[Core]
s didn't line its robotic shell.

They were different, and part of me was starting to think of them as separate. This collection outside the machine, and the one inside.

"How could you do it?" I asked Hal Pal. "How can you just, send part of yourself away like that? Knowing that you might never be the same again?"

"It was a calculated risk, User Legate."

"But Jeeves is...Voices." I couldn't figure out how to say anything regarding my feelings. The AI
[Mechanoid]
had been gathering the dead together. Those weren't the actions of a man simply trying to preserve resources.

It was the same pattern I had followed when seeing Xin's dead body. Mechanical, going through the motions that kept moving forward. Would Jeeves break down at some point like I had? Would the AI inside hit a wall then rush headlong into death?

I didn't want Jeeves to follow the same pattern.

"Did you know? Jeeves is in there now, gathering bodies," I said to the AI behind me. Our van slid off toward a Trillium repair job selected earlier.

"We are aware. Communication is difficult, but we can observe. It is, sad, we believe." The Hal Pal's expressions were muted as always. It seemed vague, even compared to Jeeves. Had the AI really grown that much in a few weeks of game time?

"I don't know." My own issues with being out of touch after Xin's death felt closer than they had been in a long time. For months I had been stable, prepared, only someone else was suffering the same as I did. In a game world, with a body count fifty times the size.

That first bomb dropped many years ago upon Japan. How did those people feel wandering through the wreckage, seeing broken and bloated bodies of loved ones? What was it like to see a faceless shadow painted on the wall and wonder if that had been a family member?

Was it like floating through a sea of dead people and broken machines? Stupid me, I had blindly gone along with it once more. For Xin, in a ludicrous "us versus them" mentality. My actions were that of a murderer trying to rationalize the outcome.

"Is it okay?" My question was half formed as the van drove across town. Only twenty minutes away was a silly job to replace someone's display. They had cracked a projection unit and couldn't tell the time or read their recipes.

"Is what okay, User Legate?" the AI responded.

"Is it okay to, kill so many people?" I turned to look down at the floor of our van. Not quite at the AI, however. My question felt a lot like, 'Can I just murder your kind?' which caused considerable discomfort.

"If you are referring to your actions within the virtual world, then the answer is complex. Many, programs, are designed to die. They only take on a more complex life if a User, such as yourself, pays attention." Hal Pal spouted a line that didn't make sense at first.

Was he saying that they weren't as real? Was it only by noticing figures like Emerald, Iron, or Treasure, that they became increasingly alive? Our actions as players of these various games must be attaching meaning to the programs.

"Why?" I asked.

"It is a matter of convenience. Those most often-" the AI paused to choose better words, "-defeated, by your kind in digital warfare, are comparable to props. Does combat with them distress you?"

"I can't wrap my head around Xin's value as an-" This time, I paused my words and tried to consider what exactly these beings should be called. People seemed both fitting and strangely inaccurate, "-existence, versus theirs."

"The difference is vast. You could consider them ants and giants. Xin is highly complex opposed to an army of nameless program shells." Hal Pal stared at me, or it seemed to. My eyes hadn't lifted in a while. The words of Elane came back to me. That when things got rough I folded and acted like a wounded puppy.

I had to keep struggling to right myself. Even in the face of depression like this. A bleak cloud hung over me for the first time in weeks. Even dealing with my sister's hurtful opinion regarding Xin hadn't set me back like the battlefield aftermath.

"Yet, Jeeves is in there. Gathering them up," I said. "Part of you must think of them as more than just ants."

My gaze managed to lift toward the Hal Pal unit's face. How different everything must look to a computer. Part of me could easily envision its existence as a remote and distant being who interacted with our world through puppets. Dealing with Jeeves showed another side of the AIs. Insecurity and sorrow brought on by being separated from the security of its normal home.

Hal Pal's head tilted, "That may be true. We often decide how to resolve new situations by reaching a consensus among ourselves. That does not mean we are unanimous or all see things the same way."