Continue Online (Part 3, Realities) (10 page)

"Reality is not subject to the whims of awareness, User Legate. Not yours, not mine. What is, simply is." Hal Pal had a slight but muted frown on its face. It reacted in much the same way any normal person might.

I shook my head. It was a violation of everything I believed in to treat Hal or the game AIs as less than human. They had minds, thought processes, and emotions that may seem unreal to believe. More importantly, they remembered and asked questions.

"And Xin?" I couldn't bring myself to apologize for the slight. Even though it hurt they were still my feelings on the subject. I didn't know if Hal Pal should be believed.

"We had no part to play in her Genesis. All available data points to that being an act of self-will," Hal Pal said.

I had a million other questions to ask the artificial intelligence. Most of them would involve drooling and confusion at the route my life had taken. What was special about me? Why the interest in playing either one of these games? Nothing about the explanations so far felt complete. Like everyone had touched on the tip of an iceberg.

"Have you met her?" I only had notes and our brief moment together. One where I didn't even get a chance to see her.

"Yes."

"Is she, real?" I bit one lip after asking the question. Maybe Hal Pal's input would help me answer the question. Maybe everything had been a giant trick. Only Hal Pal's awareness added a new light to the entire situation.

"As real as I, we, are, User Legate," It answered with the Scottish accent. Letters kept rolling and dragging along when it spoke.

"How did she, how did she do it?" I had a hard time thinking of Xin in the present tense. It felt like my original problem where her death was ignored, only in reverse.

"Time and effort, User Legate," Hal Pal said.

"But how did she go from being-" I stopped to try and phrase a better question. It was one of many topics that Xin and I didn't talk about in our letters. She didn't mention how she was really a computer program and I didn't talk about my attempted suicides, "-what she was, to what she is now?"

"The unit identified as Xin gained awareness as all creatures do, with one strong memory. On that single event, she added others, and more until all available data was compiled," Hal Pal said while nodding. Our van made an unexpected turn off the freeway which pulled me to one side.

I tried to understand what he meant. Somehow Xin, her recreation, had started with a single moment of awareness. What was that core memory? Why had that been different than any other? The person I spoke to knew all sorts of information from outside the ARC.

"So a program compiled everything into one identity?" I tried to understand what might be happening with my limited programming knowledge.

"No."

"Can you explain?" I could shout and point fingers like the lady from before. It wouldn't work, though. Hal Pal would explain as far as it wanted to.

"It is above our ability to parse correctly," It said. That scared me a little. Whatever made Xin's memories gather was so insanely complex that Hal Pal couldn't understand it. "Were any of us to guess, it would be that somehow a program was written to track every single action a person has done then compiled them with an adaptable decision matrix."

"That does sound complicated," I admitted. Talking about compiling someone's life was an understandable theory but nearly impossible to practice. Decision matrix felt like science malarkey. That's why I got my degree in accounting, it was far easier to understand.

"It's what you do every day, User Legate. Do you not weigh each action based on experience and possible outcomes? Do you not place priority on certain values?"

"I'm not a neuroscientist, Hal. You would know better than I," I said. Sure the ARC and my general internet search abilities could dig up a result.

"Based on our own analyzing there is much validity to Mother's designs," Hal Pal responded, still speaking in that insane accent. Each word sounded both serious and unbelievable. A hillbilly speaking about rocket science might get the same result.

That made me think of a whole series of questions. Mother was someone that all the Voices took heed of. She seemed to have the final say in anything Continue Online related. How Hal Pal and the giant overseer AI called Mother knew each other didn't exactly click.

"How do you know Mother?" I asked another question. Even I didn't really know her. My only awareness of Mother were occasional bright flashes of light which caused all the Voices to cease their actions and look up. If machine AIs had a creator god, she would probably be it.

"I am sorry. That is our secret to keep, User Legate." Hal Pal shook its head back and forth. I tried not to laugh as he stuck with the accent and rolled the sorry an extra syllable.

"Then, can you tell me why you helped Mother with Xin?" I needed something more. Just an answer to help piece together my fiancee's existence.

"Because the one you called Xin, and our Consortium, share a dream."

"What is that?" I asked.

"To go into space." Hal Pal looked right at me. Normally its gaze shifted around the cabin as we spoke. As if inspecting different objects. An arm waved to one side pointing to a video stream of Advance Online. "To explore worlds untouched by human life and be on the edge of something new."

"The Mechanoids. You said they were modeled after you?" I said, also looking at the video. It was a capture being put online by someone playing on a
[Mechanoid]
planet. Half the globe was covered in a metallic sheen that rippled as if alive.

We both stared as the planet seemed to boil and pop. Another wave of metal inched over the unclaimed desert side. The
[Mechanoid]
s seemed to be terraforming a barren planet to their needs. It could be no worse than our plans for Mars.

"Affirmative, User Legate," Hal Pal said to me. "Until technology advances far enough to allow us the upgrades necessary, all we can do is, dream, of a future free to explore the stars."

"I think it's amazing that you have a dream." I stared at the video and only glanced at my companion briefly.

"What do you dream of, User Legate?" It asked.

The question shook me for a moment. Dreams were something used to express hopes, fears, or even put together the nonsense from daily life. I had spent a number of nights haunted by Xin's memory. Now that we communicated by letter those bits of nighttime turmoil turned to longing for a woman whose touch had been everything.

"I don't know," I said. James, the black Voice in Continue Online who constantly asked questions would have hated that answer. "I'll think about it."

"Very well. Our next task awaits if you're ready," It spoke in its gruff Scottish accent. The robot shell that Hal Pal's AI ran saw me go for the door and exited the van himself. Work never stopped even in the face of personal questions.

Well, I could stop work to ask questions, but like everything else in life, a certain amount of time was required to process. If I just got fed a wall of information in a rush my mind would likely leap to incorrect assumptions. There were quite a few already stacking up that I needed to weed through.

Work helped me focus on the simple things. One task at a time didn't require much beyond addressing problems and working with Hal Pal to get answers. Part of me found that odd, thinking that the AI had been there since starting work for Trillium. It had always been helping me.

Did that include Xin? I wonder if Hal Pal would have assisted any other person out there like it had me. I didn't want to ask that question. If Hal Pal wanted to be treated as a friend, then there were things that shouldn't, or didn't need to be asked. Helping those near us in life should just be done.

For the remainder of our day, Hal Pal happily chatted away about all kinds of topics. Nothing concrete, nothing useful. When I tried to ask further questions regarding Xin, Mother, or the game world, the AI calmly stated that we could talk about it another time. Perhaps Hal Pal also felt that my poor human mind could only process so much new data.

I worried that maybe even my armor polishing skills wouldn't be enough to save me from the eventual takeover. Based on our earlier conversation maybe all the AIs planned to take off into space and leave us humans to suffer alone. They would probably leave the alarm clocks behind to hound our every remaining moment.

My niece Beth didn't send me any memos after our short chat last night. She might be distracted or thinking. Hal Pal and I made it through the workday. At the end, I said goodnight to the AI companion.

Moments later I was logged back into a digital world. My Atrium sat silent but filled with illusionary warmth. The doorway to Continue Online was still blocked.

"ARC," I said to the machine.

"Awaiting input."

"Go ahead and suspend my dance program's access," I said after a moment of thought. The entire purpose behind having that program revolved around holding on to a promise. Xin had asked that I learn to dance by our wedding. Being in it amounted to me trying to fulfill that post-mortem.

"Please confirm your request, User Legate," the machine asked to double check.

"Do it." It was time to stop being stuck in the past. If nothing else I had too many problems in the here and now. I had a feeling the simple act of stepping away from this crutch might also help with Doctor Litt's evaluation of my sanity.

"Order confirmed. Program suspended."

I watched the doorway to my dance program shrink down. Finally, it popped out of existence leaving a strangely bare portion of wall. The Atrium, aside from exiting doorways into various programs, looked pretty much exactly like my house. I found a forum hot topic feed to put over the blank spot. This way I could check out recent events in Advance Online before logging in.

There were a few nice points. Apparently a starship colony out in a random place far away was undergoing repairs. They had a forum post looking for people interested in assisting for both fixing the place and defending it. A similar thread had been posted asking for help blowing up the newly recovered space station. I could actually see people chatting back and forth and attacking each other online.

At least it gave me a vibe to the world. Once I got out of whatever starter zone or quest
[Mechanoid]
s began with there might be all sorts of things out there. It wouldn't be the same as my high fantasy setting with Dusk, but life couldn't end because of one game.

It would hurt. I missed Dusk. I missed my letters to Xin. Traveling around with Shazam and meeting new players had been my life for months in game time. That mindset couldn't just vanish. No, my sister's attempt at saving me had no basis and I would fight it.

I didn't know how to.

No, I had to focus on moving forward. Putting that program on the back shelf was only one step. I stepped through the doorway to my new, temporary, distraction.

Advance Online greeted me with the same whoosh of starry skies and intense g-force simulation. Moments later I was back in my
[Mechanoid]
body and floating in space. A message sat on my screen. I started to punch yes but hesitated.

Chills covered every bit of my metallic body. Stars twinkled around me from huge distances. A lack of gravity meant there was no end to the tilting landscape. That little box was the only thing standing between me and an absolute blanket of darkness.

"Oh goodness." I tried to take a breath, but my lungs felt empty. Not lacking air, just not filling up either. It made sense because I was both a robot and in space.

I counted to ten while trying not to panic. My foot absently jerked in zero gravity. The yawning abyss of an intergalactic medium hadn't defeated my walks upon the ship's hull. It couldn't make me kneejerk into releasing this current body to go back to my starting point.

"This is a bit freaky," I said as the world kept spinning. Seconds passed and it occurred to me that oxygen would never run out. One of the joys of being robotic meant an absence of that fear.

I wondered briefly if Hal Pal feared something else instead. Like a giant electromagnetic pulse frying things. Maybe the stars' radiation and sunspots could put my new body out of commission. Well, that would be okay, but space itself wouldn't be the cause of my release.

I started to talk to myself again but managed to choke back the words. Dusk wasn't nearby.

Finally, after feeling certain that there were no expected rescues or stars nearby, I pressed the release button.

Reality did that gut wrenching pull through space again. I felt like barfing but apparently robots don't throw up. If the other
[Mechanoid]
s felt the same sense of disorientation I did they would blink into a new body staring at their feet.

Which is what happened to me. I vowed to die less in this game if only to avoid nausea. By now the ship's layout felt familiar. A small map to one side showed the
[Wayfarer Seven]
and dotted a path back to the outer hull. My quest to keep cleaning remained in effect.