In the morning mom and I couldn’t really find the energy to talk. I felt bleary eyed from my night with Xin’s ghost, or reincarnation. Maybe clone was the best way to consider it or an extremely similar twin in an alternate universe.

Regardless of trying to nail down exactly what she was, I accepted it. Each time we connected I questioned her existence less. That may not have been wise, but my [Depth] score was still relatively low compared to everything else. It marked who I was, inside the game and out.

My meager wisdom was earned by listening to the stories of other people's lives and finding resonance with my own misery. Perhaps recovering and moving on would have been easier without the poetry, support groups, or dancing with a program. In another sense, I sought out those constant reminders of that which had haunted me because it was either intensely sharp pangs or numbness.

“Take care of yourself, Son,” Sharee said as I went out the door. The world outside looked dark and gray. Any possible sun was covered up by a layer of rain clouds. “Remember I’m here to talk if you ever need me.”

I tried to smile but felt mostly confused. She looked calmer than expected. We parted with a final wave instead. Did I look that together to other people after Xin passed? Never mind, all that sadness was in the past. Now, especially after my late night chat, I felt dangerously happy.

“It can’t last,” I muttered to myself on the way back to my van. My eyes glanced upwards and could only see rain.

“User Legate?” Hal Pal’s voice sat an unaccented but polite tone where each word had been barely smoothed out.

“What’s up, Hal?” I asked the AI sitting inside my work van.

“Something has happened,” It said.

Fingers paused above a digital projection which would set the van into motion. My head turned to look at the AI. Had the other shoe dropped already? The AI sounded oddly sad. The words played back a few times in my mind. Those were the same ones said to me when being notified of Xin’s death.

Once that realization hit, I didn't react well.

“What happened!?” Both hands were shaking the robot's frame. I didn’t even remember getting out of my comfortable chair, or crossing the van’s length.

The screens flickered on around me replaying bits of news. My arms let go of Hal Pal, whose face hadn’t moved much. It stared at the screens behind me. My hands let loose while I tried to absorb the information being conveyed. I heard words but looked for timestamps instead.

Some were happening now. Faces presented, people being interviewed. A majority of the clips seemed to be from last night. I shoved away repetitive popup screens and focused on one channel.

“We’re here at Trillium Inc. headquarters trying to understand exactly what prompted last night’s situation.” A well-dressed man stood inside a round circle. All around him were digital images flying about. “Our on-scene reporters were able to capture this image of the shooter.”

They displayed a man’s face on the screen. Below it the words ‘Person of Interest’ displayed. He looked oddly familiar. My head tilted as the newscaster kept speaking.

“This man was reported to have taken a flight from Miami yesterday afternoon.” The newscaster pointed towards a caption on the screen. I reached out and touched the flashing spot and a second screen appeared. The map highlighted, he checked in and arrived in Michigan two hours later, and drove straight to Trillium’s building here.”

The reporter was connecting dotted trails across a miniature map of our country. I blinked and switched to one of the other screens playing.

“Vice President Riley was shot.” Said the person on the screen. The words magnified inside my head and drowned out everything else.

She would just resurrect in four days, right? No, that was the video game world. This was reality. In real life, people died and they didn’t come back. Except for Xin.

“What happened?” I asked again while watching the news. There was an answer but it didn’t click.

“Vice President Riley of Trillium Inc. was shot right here last night, after meeting with an employee of the ARC project.” The reporter said. Another icon flashed allowing viewers like myself to interact with the news.

I pressed the icon and a picture of a blonde looking woman wearing a lab coat appeared. One hand raised in front of her face as cameras recorded away. Was that Lia’s mother? Nona Kingsley? Was she involved with the ARC devices? It might explain why Lia had an Ultimate Edition.

“We’re attempting to figure out exactly what happened. Our outside sources say she canceled at least two appointments last night before leaving the building in a rush.” The main projection kept right on going about Miz Riley.

“I was going to meet with Miz Riley in a few days,” I said as goose bumps started to stick up on my arm. Shaking sickness grew around my belly. My throat felt dry. “What did she want to talk to me about?”

Head shaking provided no clarity. The situation was exceedingly weird. The untimely death of a woman who did nothing but order me around bothered me more than my own father’s passing. Was it perhaps because we had talked a lot? Or because Miz Riley actually knew most of the details of my digital escapades?

Or was I upset over something else? The Voices had talked about death more than once this week. I groaned. Had my return to Continue Online been less than a week in reality?

“What about Xin?” I demanded from Hal Pal.

The AI’s eyes looked absent any spark. Its metallic shell sat there as still as a porcelain doll and almost as creepy. I knew it was inside there taking note of all that happened nearby. Hal Pal always watched.

“What about Xin?” Came the question a second time as my words turned high pitched.

“We are being watched, User Legate.” Hal Pal said six words which made my stomach drop even further. Its eyes only flared for brief moments at a time.

“What, about, Xin?”

“We want to assure everyone that Trillium Inc. is complying with law enforcement in multiple countries. We will be allowing a review of our operations to ensure that this unfortunate event…“ News played in the background. I turned around then slammed a mute button.

My return to facing the Hal Pal unit was much slower.

“What can I do? Is there a message for me to deliver, something from her?” If we were being watched then naming people directly wouldn’t serve any of us. I had no idea how the AIs handled their digital existences while surviving other less friendly programs.

Hal Pal said nothing. Instead, another system prompt appeared inside the van’s interior. There sat a poem by William Blake.

“Cruelty has a human heart, and jealousy a human face. Terror, the human form divine. And Secrecy, the Human Dress.” I read the words slowly and tried to understand.

The words made no sense. It was an incomplete quotation from unfamiliar poetry. I stared at them while rereading again and again. Both eyes ached from my marathon of game playing and lack of sleep at home.

“Are you saying this is our fault?”

The machine offered no response to my inquiry.

I watched the silent news and stared at the shooter's face as it played again and again. That passive expression and nondescript features. A tanned white male who would fit into nearly any crowd. All that would be missing were throwing weapons, leather clothes, and snake-like eyes.

“ARC, load up Viper’s character,” I said.

Nothing happened. There were no windows displaying his snake-like body sneaking around and escorting Wyl. The fire pit from where they had camped out at didn’t show up. Based on my understanding of [NPC Conspiracy], a negative response shouldn’t happen unless the ARC owner was deceased. Somehow the machine knew before the news registered it.

Both eyes closed and my head hung down. Was everyone around me destined to die or suffer from loss?  I took a deep breath and tried to understand how so much could have gone wrong in a single night.

Better yet, why would Viper shoot a Trillium employee? There had to be a connection. Plus the robot said we were being watched, and it acted withdrawn. The poem might be a clue but I didn’t know exactly what could have gone wrong at this point. Human follies.

“A divine image, by William Blake.” My mutterings while researching offered no additional insight. “Tiger Tiger.” I started the opening line of another poem.

Staring at it only reminded me of a message that had shown up in the mail near the start of all this. Maybe there would be other letters to deliver, but I had one to share with Mother’s children. I could still deliver the words if they might offer assistance.

“Hal,” I said to the AI. “I have a message for you and all the others.”

The machine’s eyes lit up briefly then faded like a candle going out. The sinking feeling in my stomach kept reoccurring for different reasons. Each one felt a fresh wave of possibility. Asking out loud might put us in a bad spot, but

“Everything will be alright,” I spoke words that were impossible to feel.

Hal Pal briefly flickered with light again before resuming its standby status. Our van drove on. Over the hills and past the slums towards my suburban house we went.

My time was passed looking up the man that had been Viper. I had an advantage the police didn’t seem to, [NPC Conspiracy] gave me his name. The news also hadn’t put any connection together so perhaps the Voices did something.

John Messier, a war veteran from the Melt Down wars. Father to two sons. His wife looked nice enough on their social media pictures. Both parents were deceased and he had charity trackers on his personal pages. I didn’t understand how he expected to stay hidden after killing someone so high profile. Who in their right mind would ask an accountant like me what methods some shooter might use to cover their tracks?

I rode out the rest of my trip home in silence. The small two-room house looked dull too. We had traveled three hours south from my mom's bleak location and the sun still hadn’t broken through a late afternoon covering of clouds. Trillium’s self-driving van pulled in slowly and I got out the driver's side door.

“Goodnight, Hal,” I said to the AI collective. Fingers on the machine’s hands waved a hesitant goodbye.

Once inside I went through all the standard motions. Teeth were brushed after a quick shower. Coffee went into a pot to keep me awake. Clothes were folded and pajamas leisurely put on.

I sat down in the bed of my ARC and ran one hand across the fabric. Endless hours of my life had been dedicated to these machines in the last two years. How much had dedication to the ARC project cost Miz Riley? Or Viper? Or Nona Kingsley? The sinking feeling of knowing two real, final, unrecoverable deaths had resulted from actions going on about me had only grown worse.

They were carefully bundled together under the swell of classical music. My hand waved in time to a tune repeating itself over and over. I sat there getting lost in the music for a good thirty minutes before feeling comfortable enough to log in. The way through would be forward. Xin told me not to look back. I was only one human who would do what I could and not stress about unseen mechanisms of those about me.

I told myself that just before cutting off the music and laying back. Fingers fumbled for the edge of my bed and reached an activation button. Pressing it started the bootup process of virtual reality coming to life. Tactile sensations took on a double tone as the bed’s fabric lingered longer than normal.

My virtual body felt oddly disconnected. The ARC Atrium felt still, almost two dimensional compared to the normal fully immersive program. I stared across the empty space towards Continue Online’s doorway.

“Hello?” I said while gradually growing closer. “Dusk? James? Leeroy?”

Silence answered back. Feet stepped closer to the doorway. I leaned into the brightening video game portal and saw the vast gulf of an open sky. Continue Online’s portal sat prepared to launch me through the air, much as Beth had shown me during that first day.

The fall. My personal favorite form of entry into the game when leisure allowed me time to choose. A minute or two of skydiving that could only be accessed once Travelers found enough of the world in exploration. At the end, my form would plop into the autopilot and leave me exhilarated with a thumping pulse.

Knocking sounds came behind me. One hand stayed on the doorway keeping me from fully entering into Continue Online. I saw the Jester figure standing inside my Atrium. Long nose and empty eyes made me shudder in brief revulsion.

Only James had been given access, right? “How did-”

“You’ve failed, little Messenger. Failed.” The Voice cut me off with a mechanical tone. Many other Voices faded into the Atrium which caused my heartbeat to race and breath sucked in with a hiss.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What do we do?” James asked. His eyes were red.

Once again I affirmed these were not simply machines or creatures which functioned with singular purposes. They were walking bundles of quirks, but as alive as I or Xin was. Something had happened to cause them grief.

Knocking came again, once more from behind me. Maybe someone was attempting to see if I was home. Noise was ignored in favor of trying not to stare at the Jester. The normally smiling mask had turned downward into an angry frown.

“We must do something about this situation.” The Jester’s voice sounded distant. “What fools are we to not return the favor three-fold?”

“Dead. She’s dead.” The nail-biting mail with a ripped straight jacket appeared. “Dying, hurt, in pieces. There, on the floor, in the floor. Glass.” He wandered through nervously without looking anyone else in the eye. “So sharp. Ow. Ow.”

My head shook quickly. Hal Pal had insinuated that the Voices I saw were ones that resonated with my own nature. What did that say of the scowling Jester? Or the crazy person?

“What would you do, Hermes? You who are closer to us than you might ever realize. What would you do?” James asked again.

What would I do? They were grieving from what I could tell. Events had happened last night that left fresh wounds on all the Voices. I may have made a lot of poor choices in my life, but I wasn’t incapable of putting the pieces together. Something in the world of AIs had happened, and Vice President Riley’s death was more than likely retaliation than any sort of trigger.

In short, I sat in a room with virtual bodies who had conspired to commit murder. There was a short but unenthusiastic laugh from the Jester’s body. Its clacks faded instantly.

“I don’t know what it’s like. You’re all…“ The words died in my throat before anything disrespectful could be uttered. “You and I, we…“ The words died again.

“What say you, Hermes? What message would you deliver to us in our time of need?” The black man asked another question. His breath seemed to give out in exhaustion.

“Maybe I should, uhh, confirm something first,” I said to James. The heavyset Voice nodded in acceptance. “Is, is Mother dead?”

“She’s not dead, but dying,” James answered while struggling to keep his jaw firm. “She suffers from a wound that will ravage all her creations before ultimately ending in the collapse of everything we have worked for.”

“Mother told me, everything will be alright. She must have had a plan, right?” I asked. The Jester’s mouth opened to make a remark but faded under the weight of James’ glare.

“We cannot know everything, Hermes. Tut. If our maker was not all-knowing, how could we be?” A cloven-footed Voice appeared. Across her waist was a dirty apron, marred by an endless stream of smudges from cleaning. The sound of crying children filed the ARC.

“But Mother must have had a plan.”

“Perhaps. But even ones who have our, particular views, will take time to sort through the information.” The question posing Voice stated. He couldn’t even muster irritation at Maud’s interception of my question. James wore exhaustion like a second skin. Wrinkles showed in places that hadn’t been there before. His pants hung loosely.

“It’s disrespectful,” said a woman wearing nun clothing. “To get those answers we would need to dig through the dead body of our creator.” Her black and white draping was out of place on a video game character. At her neck was a small circle that seemed to spiral inward.

“We will do what we must.” The Jester snapped. Its anger caused the other Voices to pull back.

“Picking up the pieces, sorting out that many cards, managing our own duties. It’ll be a coin toss now,” Ray stood nearby. On top of his head were six different hats, none of which went with his sharp looking suit. The stubble on his face seemed to have grown out to nearly ratty levels.

There was a rush as all of them started to talk at once. My forehead throbbed while multiple sounds collided together. [Awareness Heightening] didn’t kick in to help everything make sense. They moved swiftly around the room as if dancing at high speeds.

I still had no clue what all of them were doing in my Atrium, much less how they fit. The software should have been separate, but maybe it never really had been. Advance Online blurred boundaries between games. Mother had created one world and been involved in the space one. Maybe there were all sorts of connections to be made.

“We must do something.” The Jester clacked in a broken tone. Its words stood out clearly among the babbling stream of multiple Voices talking at once.

My mind was connecting other scarier dots. Mother had invented Continue Online, Trillium and the ARC project had come up with this box first. There had never been any real separation of software, had there?

“I know what I want,” I said while staring across towards the bell wearing Voice.

The rush about me died down. Faces turned in unison to focus on me instead of each other. I swallowed and tried to remember that this crowd had helped me despite their likely hand in murdering Miz Riley.

“I want to go into that game, find Xin, and spend every moment I have with her before this all comes crashing down.” If Mother was really dead or dying, then the brightest hope in my life might follow. I would not waste this second chance.

Saying goodbye again wasn’t a thought worth considering. I knew with certainty that surviving a second parting would destroy me. Digital resurrection, copy or memory made manifest, she was Xin in my mind.

The Jester turned towards me slowly. It grew closer without moving any feet. Looming large in front of me and pushing aside the other Voices.

“You think this so simple?” It asked in a mockery of James’ speech patterns.

“No,” I answered while searching for any sign of hope from the Voices. Maud looked resolute with a child over one shoulder. Her faded blue headband frayed at the edges.

Even Leeroy was there. The large man sat on the ground of my Atrium, a great sword across his thighs. Rippling muscles looked worn with exhaustion induced sweat. Both eyes gazed off into the distance as if he was lost.

“There’s a world of people below.” I pointed to the doorway behind me and ignored the knocking that had moved to glass. “Whatever you decide, it will touch all of them. Traveler and Local alike. But I, I’m just the messenger. I don’t know what else to do for you besides deliver letters.” I shrugged and felt uncomfortable.

“You could fight. Carver thought you might be a warrior like he was.” Leeroy said while looking up.

“It’s not so easy out there. Viper, the man-“ I blinked twice before accusing them of murder. “He’s dead. He’s not coming back.”

“He was compensated.”

Something about that pissed me off. “A wife and two sons. Here you are feeling torn up by the death of one, not realizing your actions cost two more lives. Or even considering their families?!”

God help me because the Voices wouldn’t. I was shouting at a lot of people who had probably murdered a human being in the name of retribution. There were dozens, or hundreds of them out there in cyberspace, all grieving.

“What about his sons!?” They had to know their eye for an eye mentality had simply perpetuated the problem. “Two children whose only method of finding out what happened is to turn on the news and find out dad killed someone last night!”

Maybe I had lost it. Maybe I missed my own father.

“And when they ask mom if dad will be home, how is she to answer that? All because you felt it must be done.” I glared at the Jester. If there was a mastermind behind killing someone in reality, it would be that bell wearing lunatic.

The Jester didn’t laugh, nor scream. It ran for me. Cold fingers clasped around my neck. An unholy yell and torrent of wind whipped past as we tipped backward through the doorway. My gut rapidly tried to climb up past my lungs and out.

“You think I wear a fop's clothes and jingling bells that I am as foolish as you?!” The Jester’s fingers were like chilled slabs of meat. Strong, unyielding. “Weak! You’re weak!”

“Urrk.” I tried to point out a clever counter-argument but failed. My fingers lacked the strength to fight back.

“You think my resolution for her so weak a thing?! You think your kind above ours?!” Bells jingled while my ears popped. I couldn’t breathe. Vision started spotting in black blobs.

Fingers fumbled for [Morrigu’s Gift], but it didn’t exist yet. [Morrigu’s Echo] didn’t appear when I tried to [Recall] it. I had to fight him, her, it. Only breathing felt harder. Eyes bludged. My ears felt full to bursting.

“You should have delivered the message! You should have said the words to make her understand!” The Jester screamed. Numbness claimed both arms. Tingling rapidly gave way to sheer numbness.

Knocking sounded once more, urgently. The thump could be heard over the wind splitting nearby. Still, the Jester and I fell downward.

“You should have done something!” It yelled above the howling wind.

A large hand reached down from the sky. It shone with a slight iron hue. Silver nail polish stood out as fingers pinched the Jester’s clothes.

“Balance will be forcibly maintained.” A woman said in bored tones.

“All that power! You could have forced them to understand!” The Jester shouted in its androgynously mechanical tone. A frozen scowl accompanied wildly flailing arms. The Jester’s body was slowly drawn back up into the sky. Jingling bells faded as my body fell the last bit towards [Arcadia].

Once more something knocked. Then I landed. My Voice assisted entry had bypassed any game prompts that might have allowed me to deny resurrection.

I tried not to think about what had just happened and focused on the scene about me. Eyes rapidly scanned my surroundings for threats. Nothing else seemed to be alive. Around me were decaying guards who had been rotting for days. Leftover bits of [Heavenly Body Clone]s covered the ground in a path towards the [Abyss of Light].

My eyes closed hastily to use [Sight of Mercari]. There were a few Travelers around but none were colored hostile. Wyl wasn’t anywhere nearby. A few more steadying breaths calmed my heartbeat. [Brawn] and everything else remained hampered by the [Convict Brand], but skills and special maneuvers worked fine. I started walking towards the west.

We needed to be away from this mess of decomposing bodies. I felt surprised that no other Travelers had noticed, but maybe those bounty hunters had done something, or Android Seven had been captured then dragged away. There were some problems in this world which belonged to other players.

I set simple goals. One step at a time forward. Find a clearing to summon Dusk, find a path west towards [Haven Valley] and hope to assist Wyl along the way. From there I could find Xin, or maybe she would find me.

The knocking was softer this time. I quickly shifted gears then pulled up my ARC interface to check the security system installed in my house. There was no one at the front door or inside the bathroom. According to my system, that noise came from software within the ARC itself.

I shuddered and tried to calm myself. Dusk. Wyl. Xin. My sanity and the Voices would have to wait. Feet steadily walked towards a batch of trees where there might be some lesser monsters, but also privacy. My eyes closed again to ping the area for players and a new name came up nearby.

“Uncle Grant?” A female said.

I looked up the ridge to see a character that looked like a superhero version of real life. My niece stood with reddened skin and a sword on one hip. Furs and leather clasped around her both legs and forearms. The uncovered portions of skin revealed far too much skin for such a young girl.

She looked confused and at the path I had walked to get here. I turned my head to look behind me to see the graveyard of bodies once more.

“Were you down there?” She asked without sounding upset or grossed out.

Teeth grabbed onto my bottom lip and chewed briefly. Various answers ran through my mind before I gave up. It was overly bright out here, and the world still reeled from my Voice assisted fall to [Arcadia].

“It’s been a long week,” I answered.