Dusk and I were loaded into [Wayfarer’s Hope] for a return trip to the mother ship. In the distance loomed a giant tower made of a black material which reflected sunlight. The building sat upon an even larger rock like some island fortress, but with the gulf of space instead of the ocean.
“Dusk,” I said quietly to the little guy on my shoulder.
He let out a noise that sounded like a cat purring mixed with bird chirps. I think it was dragon hiccups. He seemed bloated by a meal of some sort of critter. How he had found time to dash off and munch on anything was beyond me. Then again, dozens of duels against other players had been distracting.
“Does this place seem, I don’t know, familiar to you?” The tower looked a lot bigger, but it certainly held a lot of similarities. From a distance, it seemed absurdly familiar to one I had delivered a letter to in Continue Online.
Dusk shrugged. Extra arms made the motion look less fluid. I missed the dragon wings and sleeker body. This odd raptor shape didn’t feel right. His extra-long tail often felt like a rope around my neck.
I sighed. Dusk could be asked a hundred questions and may still choose not to respond. He was smart. I knew for a fact he understood, there was little I could do to motivate him.
“Can you still get into my Atrium?” I asked him.
Dusk turned and nodded slowly. There was a glint to his eyes that spoke of mild wariness. I wrinkled my nose and tried to figure out why asking about my Atrium would get that reaction. Nothing immediately came to mind.
“If I buy you cupcakes will you answer me?” I raised my eyebrows and reeled back to get a better angle on the shoulder riding creature.
His neck twisted around which almost left me facing an upside down grin. Dusk’s rapid nod looked comical from this angle. I smiled. Bribes worked far better than repetitive questions.
“Can I ask questions first?”
My tiny companion nodded then shrugged.
“So, are they similar?” I started with the biggest thing to plague me since hearing about [The Lone Tower].
Dusk nodded and rippled both shoulders then shook his head no. That caused me a lot of confusion. I tried to decipher it while Dusk drooled on my shoulder. Small drips of mildly acidic material knocked an already abused health bar down one point at a time. I had barely recovered from the mess of side effects dueling induced.
“Really? I said to him.
Dusk nodded again, shrugged and finally shook his head in the negative once more. I had been asking about the drool, but he took it as a repeat of my former question. So far a promise of cupcakes had bought me a mixed bag. Yes, it doesn’t matter, and no. That’s what his combination of movements implied.
“That ghost lady in the video. This tower.” I waved at the building in the distance. “And remember me staring at that star map? It had a gray skull on it. I would bet money on it being a space version of Camp Grey Skull.”
Dusk yawned, nodded, shrugged, then shook his head. I sighed and tried to figure out better questions to ask him. Reconciling the two games wasn’t easy. There were clear differences. It was impossible for this to be a differently skinned version of the fantasy world. For one thing, Continue Online didn’t have a giant [Leviathan] rolling around in the [Ya-Ya Mountains]. Or flying, in an asteroid field, did it?
They both had a stat system that was exactly the same. I was fairly sure that [Brawn], [Endurance], [Reaction] or [Respect] were words used all over the game world, but it felt too alike for me. The only difference was Continue’s free form basis while Advance had [Core]s. All the races were given two classes to choose from and those merged to create unique playstyles.
“Did they copy Continue?” I asked the small guy.
Dusk repeated his three motion answer. I tried not to roll my eyes in irritation. Maybe he didn’t understand the question? No. He could travel between games. Dusk was an insanely complex piece of programming that either found some form he liked or rewrote the code around himself.
Both were kind of scary to think about. What kind of monstrous program could do that? I briefly paused and held my breath while looking at the small black raptor with four arms. He was still salivating at the thought of cupcakes. Part of me felt insane for even suspecting him of an ulterior motive.
“Why did you follow me here, Dusk? Did you choose to? Or did the Voices tell you to?” I tried new questions.
Dusk shrugged, then nodded, and nodded again. I sighed heavily and felt partially justified in my paranoia regarding all these similarities. Whatever was going on, the Voices still had an interest in my existence. It didn’t worry me too much, I didn’t think of it as people watching me, so much as I had a lifeline back to Xin.
“I don’t get it. This game is designed by a company called A.I. Dreams…” I mused for a minute before an idea occurred to me. There was one slightly disturbing possibility.
“This game. Is it made by humans?”
Dusk’s head very slowly shook back and forth in a negative. If this were reality my lip would be chewed through by now. We were in a game designed by non-human minds. I didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. Tell Vice President Miz Riley that the ghosts inside had designed entire worlds? Universes?
Voices. No, that didn’t seem right to swear by right now. God help me. Humans everywhere dialed their minds into a playground created by artificial intelligence. On a grander scale, our species had blindly trusted our minds to the race we had given birth to.
Well, not me. I felt strangely detached as the idea replayed over and over. My mind held still while waiting for panic to set in, but none arrived. Other suspicious thoughts occurred to me in rapid succession.
Had the Voices altered my mind so I wouldn’t be worried? Had I known all along? If they could make me taste oranges, what else could a machine put into my head? There was only absolutely strange question that cut through the potential panic. Why me?
I tried to figure out why I wasn’t outraged over this revelation. Maybe time compression technology was screwing with my perceptions. Maybe it was a year of therapy which taught me to focus on simple tasks that could be solved. Maybe I didn’t care enough to suspect people who had been nothing but helpful.
The AIs plotted and manipulated. They poked and prodded at my feelings. Voices had dangled rewards and punishments in front of me. Others stood by me, helped support me in the challenges placed along my path in games and out in the real world. Those were not the actions of a mad race plotting to take over reality and displace humanity.
They were the actions of beings trying to help a broken man move forward by any means available. The realization made me both reassured and oddly disappointed. I had kind of looked forward to being an armor polisher for our future robot overlords.
The Voices weren’t helping only me. Shazam, or Lia Kingsley, was also being assisted by the intelligence inside the ARC. One Voice, in particular, had sought more information about Lia’s real life situation in order to help her. But why? I needed to find another Ultimate Edition user for reference.
Dusk chirped in confusion and tilted his head towards me. I could see the reflection on a window of my spaceship. We must have docked at some point while I sat lost in thought.
“So they’re the same, but not the same,” I muttered aloud to help piece things together. “If the game is designed by this A.I. Dreams company, why does so much feel like Continue Online? Even the name is similar. They’re, what’s the word…”
A voice from outside the ship interrupted my attempt at understanding. “I believe the word you are looking for is synonym, User Legate.”
“Hey, Jeeves. You’re back.” I lost my train of thought and tried not to let suspicion cloud my interaction with the AI. Jeeves had been kind to me. It stood by me when dealing with Liz. It insisted Xin Yu was real within this landscape.
“Affirmative. Treasure has informed me that you received approval to meet the Mistborn. You will need to gather with the consortium.” It said. An icon popped up displaying the quest results.
The message was waved away. I nodded to Jeeves’ question but moved slowly to get out of our ship. The AI pointed down a hallway and we started walking. My pace felt sluggish while visually everything blurred.
“Are you alright, User Legate?” The paired female and male tones of Hal Pal cut through my fog.
“Maybe.” I wrinkled my forehead and stared at the other AI for a moment. Jeeves didn’t seem to notice as we both continued down the [Wayfarer Seven]’s corridors.
“Is it anything I can assist with?”
“Not really. I’m trying to sort myself out.” We paused at a giant doorway. This was a room that I had not been into at all. Dusk hopped down and sniffed at the sealed passageway. The other [Mechanoid] looked at me in consideration for a moment.
“Aren’t we all?” It said. I stared a moment before giving one sheepish shrug. The AI nodded back but otherwise had no expression.
Jeeves was trying to grow as an individual by being separated from others of its kind. Its problems made my own seem slight in comparison. Being bereft of others of its kind must be difficult.
“So this tower,” I said trying to get my mind back in the game. “We were picking up someone?”
“The consortium believes we will escort the Mistborn to a safer location,” Jeeves said.
“But you don’t?” I responded with a raised eyebrow. Jeeves, Hal Pal, had clearly set something up.
“Negative, User Legate. If she meets with you the outcome will likely be different. I have done what I can to ensure this happens.” The AI said as we traveled up a floor using one of the ladders.
“Why?” I asked between grabbing at rungs.
“To help. When you speak with her, be honest, she must be convinced of your worth.” Hal Pal hung off to the ladder's side upon reaching the next floor.
“Why are other players here then? Can she help anyone?” That whole process confused me.
“Treasure and I have spoken at length about this situation. The Mistborn’s abilities are desired by many races. They each cleared their own hurdles to arrive here.” It said as we walked up to an excessively ornate door.
“Oh. Neat.” I remarked on both the doorway's design and this [Mistborn] being a target for other people's quests. A high profile target should be sought by multiple players or the game aspect would be ruined.
“Your desire to join their combat ranking benefited the consortium. Iron himself expressed pride that one of our own has a chance to access her gifts.” My AI friend said.
There we stood, in front of the huge door chatting away about my performance. [ByteMite]s ran around cleaning nooks and crannies. Footsteps echoed down the hall as someone approached. I started to ask Jeeves a question, but another voice overpowered me.
“You did well enough, for a machine.” The new person said.
I turned to see the same armored woman from before. She and her entourage had arrived from the opposite direction. Under her arm was a thick ring object that had small lights blinking a pattern. It matched her heavily padded armor. Maybe it was also a form of armor?
“Unit Hermes. This is Commander Queenshand. She and many others helped us bring down the remaining Leviathan after your initial blow.” Jeeves said. The professional butler tone overpowered its female speech.
“That beast was a plague upon the sector. We would have brought it down a month ago, but our presence here was drastically reduced.” Her words were crisp. Commander Queenshand seemed to have no time for any sort of nonsense.
“Politicians.” One of her guards sniffed. The Commander turned and glared for a moment. Impressively all three of the people behind her managed to keep a straight face.
“Thank you, Commander Queenshand,” I said with a nod.
“Let’s go in.” She didn’t respond to my attempted politeness. The woman clearly had no desire to waste with us mere [Mechanoid]s. Being brushed off so quickly felt odd. Most NPCs or AIs chattered away.
The large doorway nearby drew apart at the middle. Metal rippled and flowed as the walls swallowed excess matter. Commander Queenshand walked right in without waiting for either of us. An entourage of armored clones walked in behind her. Jeeves gave a small smile then waved one hand for me to enter next.
Inside was the robotic version of a Roman theater. Our audience consisted of pure [Mechanoid]s. I could see Treasure, Iron, Emerald, and many others. Even Ruby, a [Mechanoid] I had only met once shortly after starting the game, sat on one side. In between them was an entire rainbow of colored machines. Jeeves walked into an open spot on the second level.
Commander Queenshand, her escorts, and the two other winners of our duels stayed down here on stage with me. We were clearly key actors to this oddly set stage. There was one final person down here with us. A person so dark that light blurred around them like a black hole.
Looking in her direction hurt but I couldn’t help it. I tried hard to close my eyes, to blink and look away. Each attempt to swivel my neck met with an almost mechanical realignment in the figure's direction.
I took a depth breath and started playing music in my head. This tune could only be truly played by live instruments, before an era full of digitized sounds. Strings slowly played in my mind and one foot tapped in distraction.
It felt like forever before anything happened. In the depths of that creature’s darkness I thought there was an amused smile. The person's head shifted towards Commander Queenshand.
[Resist: Seraphic Aura] skill learned
* +2 [Wisdom]
* +4 [Tenacity]
[Tenacity]: is the baseline measure of a person’s mental strength in the eyes of others. As a socially oriented skill, higher [Tenacity] will only impact how denizens of this reality view you.
Some skills, traits, and tasks may only be provided to certain [Tenacity] ratings.
The messages faded away as I tried to look over the person's shoulder. This was my first encounter with the [Seraphic] outside of Dusk’s theoretical genetics. My [Messenger’s Pet] seemed completely oblivious to the [Seraphic]’s presence. His [Tenacity] must be through the roof. It couldn’t be [Wisdom], Dusk got in a fight with everything that moved. Even now he was rocking towards a [ByteMite] cleaning the theater steps.
“Welcome, Commander Queenshand, Pattern Smith Jeeves, Rear Assaulter Hermes.” The well of darkness used that dreadfully gross title. I felt one step away from being in a bad porn movie. Our speaker sounded vaguely like a man, but distortion made it difficult to tell.
“Seraphic Nox, I am here once again to formally request access to the Mistborn.” The upright Commander stated. She looked angry at having to stand in the midst of all these people.
“It has always been the decision of this counsel to deny all children of our reality access to creatures such as the Mistborn.” The [Seraphic] said. I felt confused about the lack of health bar or name tab above this Nox person.
“I cannot sit by and allow her gifts to be squandered on their kind once again.” Commander Queenshand stood tall, even in the face of such a mesmerizing existence. Now that my head was clearer it was easy to appreciate how this game had drawn me in.
“You have little choice.” The creature known as Nox said. “Violation of the laws has consequences.”
I tilted my head and Dusk shifted his weight while mirroring the perplexed look. Jeeves looked in our direction but said nothing. Looking at the [Seraphic] hurt far less, and small indicators to one side showed the [Resist: Seraphic Aura] going up in chunks.
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“Very well. I assume any attempt at making you see reason will be met with failure as always.” She set her jaw and kept an unblinking glare on the person made of darkness. “My troops and I will be removing ourselves from this sector shortly.”
Commander Queenshand turned and marched right out. The movements of the troops following her were well paced and fluid. Without an [Inspection] skill, I had to guess at their actual abilities. Whatever classes they were programmed with must be high.
Nox turned to the crowd of [Mechanoid]s who stood watching. The mess of mechanical beings shared the same general passive expression. They seemed to be witnesses to our situation, but little more.
“Take note members of the Wayfarer Seven Consortium. There will be trouble.”
“There is always trouble.” Treasure, Emerald, Ruby, and Iron somehow shared the sentence between them. After echoes of paired voices filled the stage.
Behind the rows of [Mechanoid]s sat the [Wayfarer Seven]’s walls, giving a finite size to our stage. It looked like the five [Mechanoid]s standing in the first row were considered more important. Everyone behind them seemed a little less colorful. A blue lined [Mechanoid] stood in the same row as Treasure. A thin male shell that I had never interacted with.
“We share a hope that by having one of our own gain favor things might be different,” They spoke again all at once.
A message popped up. Apparently another player wanted to talk to me through the game system while the NPCs spoke back and forth.
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Careful. The last four attempts on the quest ended with everyone dying. Escorts included, assuming anyone gets approval.
[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: [Mechanoid]s escort this Mistborn?
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: You got it. It’s in our best interest to work together, there’s never been a [Mechanoid] doing it before, maybe it will make a difference like they said.
[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: Thanks.
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Wait until this ship starts moving. It’s a trip, thought I was high as fuck the first time.
Beatdown [The Red Leg] was one of the players I had done practice rounds against. He used some sort of supersonic chirping in addition to high-speed moves disorienting me. I didn’t win any one of our three rounds. The downside was a race that couldn’t talk like normal.
It was actually kind of neat.
“All three of you have competed among yourselves for the right to stand here. I have witnessed these battles and approve of your opportunity to speak with the Mistborn.” Nox spoke to us. I started paying attention to the [Seraphic]’s words rather than looking at my list of system messages.
“We have witnessed this.” The various [Mechanoid] representatives said. I looked at the other two players. They both sat there waiting for some sort of cue. I took a stance and waited as well.
“Very well.”
We started moving. I could feel the pull of gentle inertia. What was happening? Beatdown didn’t explain exactly what was going to happen, just that it would be neat and possibly psychedelic.
None of the other [Mechanoid]s moved except for Hal Pal. I could see it look around trying to take things in. Its eyes darted over to Treasure’s stationary form. Maybe it was in my head, but it seemed like Jeeves actually swallowed briefly from nervousness before trying to stand like the other [Mechanoid]s.
Its confusion distracted me from my own. I felt abruptly sorry for Jeeves, the AI was trying so hard to be part of a crowd of other creatures. One’s that looked similar but weren’t. Was this how it always felt while dealing with humanity? Or did Jeeves experience a certain disconnect since it was cut off from the Hal Pal Consortium while playing?
“Your friend will be alright, Unit Hermes.” Nox had walked closer to me during the distraction. Everything still moved under our feet. My player map on the side was rapidly shrinking, rooms and pathways vanished until we were left with a thick wall of metal around us.
“I hope so.”
“I am surprised to see one such as you able to resist me so quickly.” The [Seraphic] said.
I stared at the creature and wondered once again about the lack of a health bar. The name and title, this was clearly an NPC. They spoke of rules to this reality. In my mind, there was one other classification of creature that might act this way.
“You’re not the first Voice I’ve crossed paths with.” I took a stab at guessing this thing's identity and watched for a reaction.
Nothing came. I risked glancing at Nox as our room slid around. It seemed like the pit of blackness might be smiling, but it was barely visible outside a curve silhouetting its face.
The entire ship jerked violently sending most of us swaying around. Beatdown’s legs almost buckled. Something huge was settling into place. The map in my ARC display expanded and showed something being formed outside this room. The room was slowly elongating.
Jeeves was staring off in mild amazement and missed a silent cue. All the other [Mechanoid]s stepped to sides. Their precision was admirable. My AI friend tried to keep pace but looked out of place among the others. Something about its movements didn’t line up correctly. Each NPC [Mechanoid] took a stance almost like suits of armor lining a walkway.
Color streams from the various [Mechanoid]s crawled along the floor. Rows of previously unseen channels bled together like a river from each robot's feet. I looked down and noticed none of my own colors bled off. Looking at Jeeves revealed the same thing, we weren’t part of the crew's ritual.
The river of lights joined up under Nox’s feet where they bent and were sucked in. A prism of colors merged through the [Seraphic] into one solid beam of white. Light spun out into the doorway we all originally entered from. Only the door itself didn’t open, it shimmered with a brightness similar to the doorway used by Continue Online’s Voices.
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Here we go. When you get inside be careful.
[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: Why? There are more trials?
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Inside is a challenge, it varies by race and class. Some people get it easy.
[Rear Assaulter] Hermes: So why do the arena battles?
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: It’s a qualifier we came up with. There are only three chances per month in the game. We do the arena battles so that those with lower skills wouldn’t just show up and fail.
“Who was first?” Nox asked the three of us. Dusk sat on my shoulder and snapped forward to pay attention. Both Beatdown and my [Messenger’s Pet] were paying close attention to the [Seraphic]s words. I should too.
Beatdown stepped forward and chirped. It sounded like a single cricket echoing noise at night.
“Very well. Beatdown the Red Leg, you may proceed.” The [Seraphic] sounded pained at the light skill channeling through its core.
My eyes and ears barely registered Beatdown walking into the lit doorway. I watched a look of growing shakiness cross Jeeves' face. Wholly human, a perfect expression for sadness to ever be expressed by the AI in all our time together. Jeeves looked around and finally hung its head down. I saw the inactive player icon appear next to its name. A system message appeared telling me that Jeeves had logged out of Advance Online.
Now I was torn between logging off and talking to my friend, or trying to honor its wishes of helping the [Wayfarer Seven] consortium. I chewed one lip and made a mental note to talk about it later. Maybe this whole situation would result in good news to cancel out that wounded look.
Seven minutes went by where no one spoke. Louder versions of [Cricket] chirps came out from behind the door. Some hummed and built before violently cresting in pitch. Things occasionally crashed and our room shuddered. Not once did the light beneath any other [Mechanoid] falter. One final chirp echoed forth vibrating our bodies, then silence.
My teeth ached and one ear rang. A message came on my screen from the other player.
Beatdown [The Red Leg]: Fuck, I failed. Good luck 2 U.
System Notice!
* Beatdown [The Red Leg] is unavailable for further conversation.
* Beatdown [The Red Leg] belongs to another instance. Further communication is impossible until the scenario chain is resolved.
Ten seconds later Beatdown’s dead body materialized nearby. I looked at a giant man-shaped cricket. Green and blue blood oozed out over a red tinted carapace. His shell had multiple cracks like a lobster.
“Alice, Lady of the Moon, you may proceed.” Nox looked to the side at another person.
Our third player was a woman named Alice. She was human and wore a leather jacket. Both eyes were lined by dark rings of exhaustion. Twitchy fingers kept inching towards the weapon at one hip, some sort of gun blade merger. Her lips barely held onto a perpetually smoldering cigarette.
“Camped this quest for three days, nothing personal dude, but I hope I get it.” She stepped in through the light. It was the most we had ever spoken so far. Twenty minutes later she screamed, a sound of raw anger and frustration. Her deceased body appeared nearby.
“Rear Assaulter Hermes, you may proceed,” Nox said, using my player title. I had thought it was disabled. “I wish you luck, Hermes, for the trials you may yet go through.”
“Thanks.” I responded while thinking about Commander Queenshand. She sounded like an impending trial of some sort. The exact how of it was beyond me.
I looked at the frozen in place [Mechanoid]s and two deceased bodies. Even in death the cigarette hung from Alice’s lip. Whatever killed them didn’t use lasers, but instead cut away at them.
Okay. If this failed I could log out and talk to Hal Pal about the Jeeves character. It logged out here, so Jeeves should be back with the rest of its consortium. The character here was only one copy among an army of digital program clones, sharing whatever reality they all lived in.
Current trial holder race: [Mechanoid]
Current trial taker race: [Mechanoid]
…key holder influence being measured
…Treasure: Approval granted
…Iron: Approval granted
…Emerald: Approval granted
…Ruby: Approval denied
…Aqua: Approval denied
…[Wayfarer Seven] consortium majority approval received
Trial intensity lessened. Complete bypass possible with unanimous approval.
Blinding white and a system message were the only things visible at first. I blinked and tried to clear away the sensation. One hand came up and hovered in front of my face to reduce glare.
Slowly the room came together. Forest and gold swirled together in a line. Dusty silver crawled along the distance. All six of the [Mechanoid]s I had worked with streamed across the walls and along a corridor. On the other side was a stain glass window.
“We will light a path in the darkness.” The multitude of voices belonging to Treasure, Iron, and Emerald came forth. I looked down at my feet and saw that the colors still traveling onward were the same ones tied to each approving [Mechanoid].
I tried to remember those words. They felt familiar.
“They’ve been kind enough so far,” I muttered while stepping forth. There were unlit parts of the path, ones that would likely belong to Ruby or Aqua were I to have their approval as well.
Even so, getting across the corridor was easy. Too easy. Halfway across I expected a battle and got nothing. The ground beneath my feet crunched every so often but other than that it was hard to feel like this had been dangerous. What had Beatdown or Alice fought in here? Did they have harder trials because they weren’t [Mechanoid]s? Did my consortium cheat to let me by?
Eventually, I stood at the glass pane. Under me was a dias large enough to house a space ship. Around the outer edge the [Wayfarer Seven] latched in and formed a seal. I got it, this was some sort of high-tech docking connection with [Mechanoid]s serving as security locks.
If I hadn’t been approved, would a defense system have tried to attack me? Curiosity got the better of me, and one hand reached out to touch an unlit strand along the ground.
Low growling rumbled the passageway. I turned to see something rolling out of the ground, much like my combat practice under Iron’s watch. This creature looked big, dark, and much more angry than even the final wave of monsters. My hand yanked back, and the growling stopped.
Touching the darkened portions clearly triggered a boss fight or something. I shrugged, fighting an optional boss held little reward in my mind. Not when Jeeves was outside the game being upset, or when two players had died to their challenges. A fight avoided was not something to be upset about.
Over half the giant window pane was lit up by my approving [Mechanoid]s. That was more than enough for me to climb up carefully and angle my body through. Inside the room I went, unsure of what would greet me.
“Voices. What is going on?” My own words startled me.
This felt exactly like the Continue Online tower. In front of me was a female, see through and only faintly present. Her body was barely more than a hint of flesh and hair that waved as if underwater.
There was a sense of not being alone here too. As if the room were filled with people watching with amused smiles. Some friendly, some annoyed, and a few upset.
“You are no mere mortal.” The woman said. Her accent was old, a cadence rarely heard outside of Shakespearian plays.
I raised an eyebrow then started to ask a question. How was this game not Continue Online? The chair, the tables, a scent of heavy air and untouched dust, all of it felt exactly the same.
“Speak softly now. We are watched.” The ghostly woman said.
“By who?” My words felt almost pointless. We were inside a mental projection of a digital existence. Anyone could be watching in theory. Maybe that was the strange feeling, like someone was standing over my shoulder watching a computer monitor.
“Any souls inclined to care, Grant Legate,” She said.
“I don’t understand,” I said with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Then it hit me, almost like an afterthought, she used my real name. Whatever this was, whatever crazy quest plot I had waltzed into, it wasn’t an accidental discovery.