Continue Online (Part 3, Realities)

Title

Note From the Author

Commencement - Neither Rain, Nor Sleet...

Session Forty - Family Matters

Session Forty One - Do Robots Dream?

Session Forty Two - Dirty Jobs

Session Forty Three - Emotional Bundles

Session Forty Four - Biologic Cargo

Session Forty Five - Without the Act

Session Forty Six – Off Roading

Session Forty Seven – Shark Bait

Session Forty Eight – Space Bugs, Everyone

Session Forty Nine – Insides Job

Session Fifty – Wake Up Call

Interlude - Rise of Hal Pal

Session Fifty One – Army of Dusk

Session Fifty Two – Space to Think

Session Fifty Three – Keeper of Souls

Session Fifty Four – The Bomb Has Been Planted

Session Fifty Five – Raiding Party! ♪

Session Fifty Six – Decompression

Session Fifty Seven – Leftover Parts

Session Fifty Eight – Stilled Hearts

Session Fifty Nine – Chains that Bind

Session Sixty – Peace Offing

Session Sixty One - Star Tours

Session Sixty Two - Blue Marbles

Session Sixty Three – Electric Slide

Session Sixty Four – Everyone Matters

Session Sixty Five – The Plea of Orpheus

Conclude – Echoed Letters

Afterword

Continue Online

Book 3, Realities

Story by

Stephan Morse

Cover design by

Indie Designz http://www.indiedesignz.com

Copyright
©
2015 by Stephan Morse

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Projections about future events are intended for fiction purposes only.

• First Publishing, 2016
  

Note from the Author
- Both my wife and I have tried to come up with a solution regarding the 'tables' throughout the book. Unfortunately we haven't been able to find a working solution at this time. I apologize sincerely and hope this won't detract from your reading experience. The tables used in this book(and has been updated for prior books in the series) do not appear well on the tablets or phones, but appear alright on some kindle devices.

Once again I apologize if this causes any frustration in reading, if you have any experience or workings with using tables in kindle books please feel free to contact me at: [email protected]

Commencement – Neither Rain, Nor Sleet...

On a normal afternoon, the tavern would be filled. There were only three in [Quaint City]. One was low key and generally invite only. Another was for Locals only. A place they refused to tell Travelers about so they could hide out in peace without needing to hear about 'Quests'.

The third was [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] and Traveler owned and run. Most of the time the staff consisted of players using their autopilot feature. They took orders, cleaned up the tables, and cooked accordingly. Autopilot allowed them to earn a small but safe amount of coin to spend on other items.

Id was not like other players. He logged on most every night with one express purpose. His goal was to throw anyone who might be too wild out through the back door. Each person got their own name and date put on a board to mark their record flight. So far the furthest victim or patron belonged to a small girl named Thorny. Her record was seven hundred and sixteen feet with a perfect landing. The resulting high five between Id and Thorny became a work of painted art. It's mounted on the back door as both amusement and a warning.

Tonight, Id kept an eye on a rowdy group of Travelers. The man in the middle was named KeylessLock, and not very aerodynamic. Id itched from behind the counter in hopes that he could try to set a new record.

"So get this, a guy shows up out of nowhere and hands me a letter," KeylessLock said. He was holding forth the letter in front of four other Travelers. Each one purchased their mug and food for the night.

"Where were you?" one of his companions says, a heavyset woman that looked to be near fifty who went by the name of Yolt. All five of them belonged to a local Traveler guild named
[WTB an Airplane]
. It confounded Locals, but other players found it amusing.

"In the middle of a friggin' dungeon. You know, the one outside of town that respawns constantly?" KeylessLock completely slurred his words by this point. Most of his guild members turned on their chat systems and casually eyed the text hovering nearby.

"Olaf's Brewery?" Yolt looked grumpy on a good day. She was proud of a permanent scar that lined one side of her face. It served to liven up an otherwise unremarkable face.

"Yeah. I'm down there getting my weekly stash." KeylessLock holds up a hand and tries to whisper. The mug sloshes liquid around which he barely notices. "And I turn around and wham! This guy with a walking staff and black cowboy hat just gives me a letter."

"You already said that," one of the other Travelers says.

"A letter!" KeylessLock happily repeats himself. He quickly gulps down the liquid in his cup and both eyes swim in and out of focus. Seconds pass by and then he smiles before letting out an overwhelming belch.

Someone on the other side of the room claps at the display as Yolt keeps talking. "Okay. Then what? You open it?"

"A letter!" KeylessLock fixates on the same phrase over and over.

"A letter!" a shorter man in their guild says as he rolls his eyes. The short one is named Tim and looks something like a fat friar. Tim turns to the others at the table. His hand goes up then opens and closes like a yapping dog. They laugh.

"What was on the letter, KeylessLock?" Yolt nods to a Traveler behind the bar. She holds up two fingers and mouths at the other player. The autopilot staff member nods and starts running out two new beers.

"A quest. The stupid letter gives me a quest." KeylessLock says while shaking his head. The man seems woozy and sways happily.

"Wait, so you're getting your, supplies..." the short fat friar, Tim, says.

"A letter!" KeylessLock shouts and burps again. The second one is far less impressive.

"And a guy shows up, was this person a Local, or another player?" Tim presses on through KeylessLock's fixation upon receiving a letter.

"I swear he was a player. Had this tiny dragon with him. I don't know. Maybe there was more than one. My eyesight was kind of blurry by then."

"Got anything else?" Yolt asks. The other two at the table spend most of their time talking to each other and ignoring the antics of their guild members.

"He was humming something? I dunno, but here's the letter." KeylessLock drops his beer a little too abruptly. Tim manages to save it from tipping over while Yolt chuckles.

"What's this?" Tim has to jump up to snatch the letter from KeylessLock. The big man tries to stare down the friar but doesn't seem able to focus correctly.

"A quest. I told you. From a letter!" KeylessLock looks over at the empty mug he had set down. One of the Traveler staff for
[Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern]
brings over another drink.

"How many of those are you going to drink?" Tim asks while glaring at Yolt. The grumpy looking woman, with a scar over one eye, puts a finger to her lips to silence Tim.

"All of them," KeylessLock says. "It's the only place I can drink." He holds up another mug in solo cheers before tilting it back.

By morning, KeylessLock's character is on autopilot in a ditch. Id was pleased at the chance to break his record. Sadly KeylessLock did not come with any aerodynamic skills. The player himself sat snoring in his ARC, passed out completely. His quest received from an unknown Traveler wielding a black walking staff and hat was now in the hands of completely different guild members.

"How did you arrive upon this place?" the woman speaking was nearly see through. Her body was barely more than a hint of flesh and hair that waved as if underwater.

"Through the window," the man responded while gesturing over. He had a small black cane tucked under his belt.

There was a window nearby, but it had a glass pane covering it. Getting through could only happen if something broke through. Currently, there were no signs of damage to the window. It made the spirit occupying this tower pause in confusion.

"That's impossible. There's no means for any mortal to enter into this abode from the outside." Her hair waved around as she rushed to the window, inspecting it. A hand came up in wonder to touch the glass and sparks flew causing the spirit to shrink back in pain.

"Well, I did," he said. The man was busy looking around. Nothing seemed hostile at this point, but in this world looks and reality were often separate things, especially when in someplace new and strange.

He toed around with one foot while the spirit hovered about the room in worry. Everything felt solid enough beneath his feet. The ghostly woman floated through with worry etched across her features.

"You must leave, mortal. You must escape with haste before she returns to see you here." She clutched both hands together as if in prayer.

"Not until I deliver this letter," he said while waving a small scroll that had been sealed by a stamp pressed into wax.

"No, you can't leave anything here, nothing, if you do, she'll know." The ghost shook her head which caused the waving hair to flutter all around. If the laws of gravity had applied that much hair would reach midway down her back.

"How long do we have?" the Traveler asked. He looked at an old piano nearby as if it might spring to life and bite.

"Just leave, whatever magic mechanisms whisked you into my home must take you away. Oh, Voices, even now, it may be too late." The ghost dared to get closer, everything in the room started vibrating and she instantly backed away. Something about her proximity to a living person had caused an earthquake.

The man wearing a black brimmed hat blinked a few times at the ghost while chewing a lip. His eyes darted around the room for signs of potential falling objects. Finally, he nodded. "Here. Read it, and then I'll go."

"Promise?" she said.

"Cross my heart. I'll even take the letter if you want." He tried to smile at the strange ghost creature. This was not his first time meeting such a see through person. There had been others, in a past life.

"Very well, mortal, but we needs be quick. There be eyes and ears everywhere in this abode," the ghost said.

"It's okay," he said while setting down the letter on a fancy looking chair. There was dust and cobwebs upon it that wrapped around the message. Slowly the tower invader backed away with one hand on the cane in his belt.

He looked ready for a fight but unsure where it might come from. The ghost lady ignored these actions and went for the letter. "You flirt with death, foolish mortal," she said while unrolling the item.

"Constantly. I have yet to actually meet that Voice yet." He tried to smile reassuringly and stood a little more relaxed.

"Death is not someone you meet, it creeps upon you softly, at most you feel a breath on your shoulder. A whisper in your ear, and then nothing." Her face looked seriously at the man's. Both eyes flashed a chilling blue that faded once the speech was done.

Then her head tilted down and read the letter. The man in the tower stared at the parchment in her hands. It was see through and faint like the ghostly woman. In addition, upon the chair sat the original scroll, unbroken and untouched.