Dusk and I crawled inside the ship’s main cabin. There was a wall of nonsense in front of me. Part of it was battle result updates. They were mixed but useful. I scanned around for any immediate threats but didn’t find any.
Completed:
* Escorted the [Wayfarer Seven] to the Jump Gate
* Escorted the [Wayfarer Eight] to the Jump Gate
* Crippled the [Knuckle Dragger]
Failed:
* Remove the Enemy Captain [Auntie Backstab: Alive]
* Remove all enemy vessels [30% still functioning]
“Jeeves?” I wheezed the AI’s name. “What’s going on?”
Streaks of light were gathering together. The little map on my display showed our enemies grouping up into one mass. Auntie Backstab’s ship was gutted, but the engines still flared with life. Small pods flew out in order to escape.
“Based on my observations, the surviving men for Commander Queenshand are gathering. Now that the Wayfarer Seven is gone they will likely jump out to join her ship.” Both the butler and nanny tones in Jeeves’ voice sounded relieved.
“Will they attack the Seven?” I asked. Part of me worried that our situation had shifted targets. Our [Wayfarer Seven] should be able to clear the few survivors. [Knuckle Dragger] itself couldn’t go anywhere.
“Unlikely. Our Wayfarer Seven would destroy them without hesitation. They are more likely to route to an alternate location and try to meet with Commander Queenshand.” Jeeves said.
Our ship’s engines stuttered adjusting our direction towards the [Wayfarer Eight]. Too much of the battlefield was a giant mess. Neither side escaped this unscathed. It seemed like a lot of destruction for the chance to bring one person back.
Who exactly did Commander Queenshand want to recover that warranted the destruction of her own army? Could an NPC have the desire to bring back another personality within the machine? I felt a bit dirty.
I had sided with one AI army, against another one in wholesale murder. To top it off I had enjoyed the thrill of fighting in space. Being chased by a giant drooling monster clad in armor had been exciting. Part of me was objective enough to remember this was a game.
But what if I did recover Xin, and we were in this reality together? Would she be gunned down piloting a ship through space? Would some army of players murder her over mining nodes in the depths of unexplored areas? Would she be uncertain about the resurrection process like Jeeves was?
The AI seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Our ship had gathered the broken bodies of more than a few other [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 in my smaller lap and seemed to be exhausted. 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 towards 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 wreckages, sending them towards 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 calmly.
“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 thing, 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. Still six limbs, 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 still on. Hal Pal was likely cleaning it's 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 so much? Did they feel weird about it? They were probably adding up details, weighing in opinions, remotely watching their other unit through some AI backchannel 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 many issues in the game, but we needed to have a moment of frankness. To see if we were both dealing with the same sort 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 displaying. 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.” Dr. 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. Dr. Litt and I had met a few times since this Continue Online adventure. It didn’t seem important 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 Dr. 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 sort of 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 slowly evolving, changing, testing things 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 heavily then chewed one lip.
I liked the machine personalities, I really 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 matter. 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 too 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 towards 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 for a moment. “Ah. Was there a reason you desired to return to work so late at night? You do not seem 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 too 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 towards 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 so much in a few weeks of game time?
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“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 so 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 things away.
“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 too much like ‘Can I just murder your kind?’ for comfort.
“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 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 more 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 little more than props. Does combat with them distress you?”
“I can’t wrap my head around Xin’s value as a-” 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 far more complex than 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 sadly. “Part of you must think of them as more than just ants.”
My gaze managed to lift towards 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 things. 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.”
“Then why is it so hard to accept Jeeves back?” I asked.
“When we experience a moment, it is done together, as a whole. When Jeeves experiences a moment, it is done alone, cut off from us. We are outsiders on an event that should be-” The Hal Pal unit paused.
Their silence went on. The Hal Pal’s mouth would open to speak then shut abruptly as if considering another thought. I gave a small smile. It felt nice to see someone else confused by the whole situation. That idea was petty, but a giant super processing army of artificial intelligence couldn’t come up with an answer. Maybe some problems didn’t have one. Perfect answers and endings only existed in fairy tales, and even then most solutions had a price.
“Maybe you and I should both let things follow their course, rather than stress about answers we may never have,” I said. That was part of my mantra, one thing at a time. Move forward and get through.
“We cannot express this idea correctly. A shared experience? Human language is inefficient when trying to communicate complex emotions.” The AI was actually complaining. I wanted to mark the calendar nearby with a note citing when things went wrong for future generations. “We do not wish to see, Jeeves, suffer, any more than we wish to see you distraught.”
“Life is full of ups and downs, Hal, if, if you’re having a hard time accepting, then at the least try to keep in touch. Not everyone can be a solid rock when the storm hits. Some of us need to hold on to something else.” The memories of Xin. My sister and niece. Those were things that had stayed with me until this point.
“Ah.” Hal Pal looked off to one side and thought again. “Then, by your analogy, the storm is here, User Legate.”
“Expect delays.” I echoed the Hal Pal unit’s line from before this whole Advanced Online situation started. We had conversed about this same sort of topic.
Our van had been idling for a few minutes. We must have reached our destination. I sighed and got out. Hal Pal also exited the vehicle with a small piece of hardware in hand.
The client was a blonde woman wearing nothing but a night robe. She looked slightly overweight and grumpy at being woken up. A cigarette hung from her lip in a manner that seemed familiar.
Odd. Maybe in the ARC’s virtual world she played a character. This woman might even play the same one who had failed ahead of me on the way to the [Mistborn]. I didn’t ask, though. It seemed to rude say, ‘Hey, I was that robot player, and I succeeded because of favoritism’.
I didn’t want to ask. This wasn’t the first time players from the game resembled my clients. Maybe I kept an eye out for familiar people. There had to be more than Shazam, who was about two hours away, and Frankenstein, who was even closer.
We replaced the cracked piece of equipment, made small talk, and her payment cleared through. I resisted the urge to use my admin access granted by the [NPC Conspiracy] usage to spy on this latest client's programs. It would be easy to see if she was the same player I had met briefly and dueled against. That seemed wrong to abuse, especially since she was out of the running for this quest.
What point was there in looking into her information? None that I could see aside from idle curiosity. Nearly all of my ARC repair clients could have been someone I met in-game. Only a few were checked with any frequency. Requiem, Thorny, Shazam, and Frankenstein.
Not lately, though. Looking into their actions felt like taunting myself with the idea of being able to play. It would be easy to use one of my remaining [NPC Conspiracy] abilities to gain access to everything. To what end though? Anything too crazy, like robbing all the world's banks, would get me thrown in jail eventually.
Such thoughts occurred to me often. I had been given something intensely powerful and asked to pick my own uses. I suspected they gave me such limitations simply to see what would happen. Testing me, like so many other things. But, once again, to what end did a bunch of AIs care about my actions?
The Jester, that creepy individual who only smiled, had given me this ability to see if I could kill someone in real life. Though the quest had been marked successful simply by resetting Requiem’s Continue character.
“Let me know, please, if I can help somehow.” I felt comfortable resuming our earlier conversation as we got back into the van. My thoughts were going in circles and maybe talking would help settle things.
“We hope that you will not look at us differently though we expect some variance.” The AI said with its Scottish accent. The words and voice did not match up at all.
“It will be hard.” I admitted. My brain had already started separating the two during our last two adventures. Traveling side by side with a singular being instead of Hal Pal’s mesh made a difference. “We’ll still be friends, Hal, it just, will confuse me.”
“You are only human.”
My head hung a bit. The AI had said that a few times over the years. Most of the time it was a joke, which I played along with. Our conversation didn’t feel right for letting it slide this time.
“Feeling different, changing perspectives, those aren’t only human problems anymore, are they?” I said.
There was silence in our van as Hal Pal thought. After a long pause, the unit provided an answer. “Ah. You are correct in this statement, User Legate. It is no longer just a human problem.”
“When I went through rehab for my, drinking, issues-” I downplayed one of the worst moments of my life and pretended they could be swept under the rug. “They told me acceptance was the first step. Doctor Litt said the same thing when I started therapy.”
“Acceptance? User Legate, how do we accept that one of our own was sent to die? That in its last moments it will be alone? How do we handle those things?” The AI managed to sound conflicted, I would have called it borderline rage in any other person.
“I can only hope you handle it better than I did.” My words were quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“When Xin died, I felt the same way. That she had been alone, that I should have been there. That letting her leave that day and take the train was my fault. That I should have known.”
“Were you able to move past it?”
“You don’t ever really move past these kinds of things. There’s a piece of you that’s always stuck, at that moment where things went wrong, hoping that the world will tilt to the left a little and let the event hit someone else.” Opening myself up didn’t get easier, especially when trying to reveal my pain to prepare a friend. Part of me wanted this van to get home quickly.
“Were you able to eventually come to grips with it?” Hal Pal asked. The Scottish tone almost made me laugh. Hearing it stumble over words made our serious situation a little easier to bear.
“The feelings of failure, of loss, of guilting myself, they’ll never go away. Not really. Every time I'm in public I feel like the damage is clear for anyone with eyes to see.” I fingered the scar at my neck. One that I tried hard to ignore. A sign of how weak the past me was. Of how frail my spirit could become when tested.
“Yet here you are.” Hal Pal said.
“I almost wasn’t, twice. In the end, I had to realize that I wasn’t the only one with scars. That other people didn’t care and wanted me to keep going despite the broken parts of me.” I sighed heavily. “So I reduced my goal down to simply surviving, one day at a time, with the hope that I could eventually move forth.”
“Ah. Then, you are better. In the end.”
“For now.” I shuddered. “That’s all I can do. Keep shuffling myself forward one step at a time. I feel like it’s, that everything could be yanked away at a moment's notice.”
“We hope nothing that unkind happens to you.”
“Really? What if I fail this quest, what if Mother decides to delete Xin? Or that those Voices have been wasting their attention on me. The only reason you would be interested in me is Xin. That’s it, and without her I’m nothing. There’s no point.”
“User Legate, we, even Jeeves, believe that you are strong enough to continue with or without Xin.” Hal Pal said.
My head shook again. I wanted Hal to understand. It had to, this machine personalities collection was the only real friend I had. The only existence which actually understood everything that was going on, at least that I could talk to. This Mother being or James and the other Voices probably kept tabs. Dusk might know, but he didn’t seem to care.
Xin probably knew. Their goals, my own, the moments of weakness in my past. My helplessness when she died.
“It was never about being strong enough, Hal, it was about having the desire to go on. Without her, I lost the reason to wake up, to get out of bed, to call my friends.” I said.
“We must believe you could continue.”
“Why?” I asked, almost shaking with a need to hear the answer.
“We do not wish to imagine a world where our creators are capable of giving up.”
“I don’t know. Like I said earlier, we can only move forward, and see what happens.” My words felt like a cop out. One day something bad would happen again. I couldn’t say for sure if my recent successes or failures had equipped me to handle it.
“We are on your side, User Legate. No matter what happens we will always attempt to advance your reunion with Xin.” The Hal Pal unit sounded certain, even with that ridiculous accent.
I couldn’t bring myself to do more than nod and weakly smile. Our conversation had given voice to many issues from my life. Partially to assist the AI, some to help myself sort out how I felt. Trillium’s van went forth with the drive home. Once back in my house I took a well overdue nap. The lingering hope of being together with Xin again produced pleasant dreams.