The next day of work was dull. He puttered around in the game. The morning after that, he started heading for work, but remembered he was expected elsewhere. The address was on Franklin Square, a different platform from Libertalia and Sargasso. He crossed the bridge to Libertalia, where the eternal carnival was quiet today, then headed to a new place.


    Franklin Square was created as a seastead: not repurposed from an oil rig or a ship or something, but built to ride the waves and endure hurricanes. A halo of floating bars circled it for increased wave protection, and as he crossed the flexible bridge leading slightly up to its "ground level", he saw a hexagonal tower that stood both above and below the waterline. The upper floors had shining glass windows and the main floor was the base for three smaller office buildings that stood up proudly like the points of a crown. He saw two of the Dragon security men wandering about. A space had been roped off in the middle for construction.


    Everyone seemed to have someplace to go, here. Stan explored the main level and spotted the glint of cameras watching him. Tower C had a cafe, an "Interfaith Chapel and Multi-Purpose Room", and a few shops with stodgy names like "International Liaison Services" and "Anders & Smith Consulting". His destination was the multi-purpose room, a white trapezoid with cheap folding tables and chairs and a mural of stars. Four other people had gathered for the class, and a quadrotor robot buzzed in to perch on a shelf and watch silently. Stan asked, "Are there a lot of events like this?"


    One man dressed in Sargasso work clothes said, "There''s usually something every week. You can bid to reserve the place."


    "Bid?" Stan blinked. "It''s private property being rented out?"


    "Of course."


    "Then who''s sponsoring it now? The Franklin company?"


    "Me," said a woman with dark skin and blue hair. She was young, tall and built like a swimmer, wearing the sort of wetsuit/tabard style outfit in sea green. She had fancy i-glasses, a gleaming computer tucked into one of her pockets, and a video projector cube in one hand. She scampered back to the door to hold it for a man who was rolling a cart of fruit and pretzels into the room. "Molly Franklin."


    The people around Stan drew in a breath. The event had been listed as run by Franklin Forge, one of Castor''s main corporations, but it wasn''t stated that a member of its owner''s family was involved. Stan fumbled to try to help with the snacks, but she waved him off.


    She set down her projector and it lit up one wall with a slide show made by the Red Cross organization. "Everyone please help yourselves to food, and have a seat. We''ll begin with a lecture and move on to basic demonstrations. Next week we have a follow-up session for CPR and some injuries specific to the seafaring life."


    Molly looked to be about his age, yet she''d mastered this subject and launched right in like a professional. He figured he was memorizing not only her every word, but how she sounded while saying it. The lecture notes appeared on the public network for everyone to study. Finally she asked, "Are there any questions for today?"


    One of the men said, "Miss Franklin, do we get certification for purposes of hospital work?"


    The teacher raised one eyebrow. "As I already said, actual employment in medical jobs takes additional training, which is beyond my skill. Our Web site can direct you to paramedic courses."


    Ouch, thought Stan. He''d wanted to ask a question just for the sake of getting her attention for a moment, but dumb questions weren''t worth earning that cutting tone and brush-off from her. Come on; there''s got to be something worthwhile to ask!


    When the few other questions died down, none of them earning much response, Stan asked, "Uh. You mentioned we''ll study problems that come up often around here." She started to do that eyebrow arch again and he plowed ahead: "And I figure you''ve listed those in the lecture notes or the Web site, so I''ll check those. But what kind of problems should we train for as we get more robots and AIs working alongside us?"


    "Now, that''s a question nobody''s clearly answered yet. I propose that it be a homework assignment for you." She smiled when she said it, and that was worth having to write a dozen essays.


    #


    The Sequence Breakers (formally titled now) contacted him, saying they were ready for that Anchor Stone quest that would get them their own ship (or rather, let them buy his). Stan now had that on his to-do list along with getting the special wood for his forge, building his new ship, and... trying to advance in general. Surely something else would come up.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The first thing was to help out Davis with his show! Stan logged in using the Fun Zone''s VR pods and appeared aboard the Work In Progress. He told Ocean, "I have an appointment with Davis."


    [Then you''d better hop to it!]


    No free teleport, then. Stan went ashore and reached Davis at his burrow entrance. "Good timing," said Davis. "Follow me! Hi-ya!" He took off running toward the cliff at the far end of the flat hilltop battlefield.


    Stan ran after him, and leaped into the glowing portal that appeared just past the edge.


    He warped out of the Endless Isles entirely; he was elsewhere within the game. He appeared in a dull concrete hallway lined with precariously placed brooms and buckets. Davis ran onward and Stan struggled to keep up. "Is there a reason we''re running?"


    The rabbit grabbed a doorknob and skidded to a stop. "Is there a reason you play this silly game? Here we are." Beyond the door was a hangar with a few computer consoles and a room-sized movie set of a spaceship full of crates. The other actors Stan recognized and one man he didn''t know were there.


    Stan beamed at the sight of them. "Hi there! I''m a fan of the show. Nice to meet you ''in person''."


    The others shook his hand. The dour crewman told him, "Now we shall see how well you can die." He waved Stan over to the set. "I''d offer you snacks, but..."


    Stan nodded. "Wouldn''t do me any good, in your world."


    "We''re not all uploaders and AIs," said one of the actors.


    That was surprising to hear. Pleasant, too; this little TV show was a cross-species effort. Stan said, "I get killed by an alien, I hear?"


    The main character was a dimension-hopping genie named Machere, an AI in real life, dressed in a family-friendly outfit of veils and silk. She told him, "This starship is making an urgent delivery of pillows to a remote colony planet where the people can''t get any sleep. Little do the crew and my party know, the ship''s computer has been programmed to make the best possible use of the cargo. And it''s decided to provoke a rival ship. Which means that you, unlucky crewman, are doomed to be killed in an interstellar pillow fight with the catgirls of Sylvestris IX. Here''s your uniform shirt; you won''t be wearing it long."


    "This sounds like an excellent way to go." He changed the note on his profile to say Nemesis of the catgirls of Sylvestris IX.


    Stan took the uniform he was handed and got the momentary reminder that he wasn''t in reality. His attempt to remove his actual shirt just brought up his inventory window so he could tap and slide his items out of view and get properly outfitted.


    Then came the actual acting. They were just doing his scene for the moment, while most of the crew faded out of view. The stage set became a little world surrounded by a complete set of walls, so that he seemed to be aboard a crowded starship... with a pride of catgirls advancing on him in the cargo hold.


    He fought sincerely and got forced out an airlock by an unlikely series of choreographed accidents. They weren''t doing realistic decompression effects, just sending him tumbling through the void surrounded by pillows.


    "Cut!" said Machere, holding a director''s cone. "Good. Now do it again."


    They did four takes they could splice together. Stan had a blast, chatting with the alien catgirls between attempts. (They were human actors themselves, who''d also played killer robots and other minions.) Then there was a very short scene taking place earlier, where he got to interact with one of his favorites from the cast. When it was over, Stan was exhausted despite not having really done much.


    Davis said, "Thanks for helping out, Stan. You fought with honor if not dignity."


    "What''s this episode going to be called, anyway?"


    The genie told him, "''The Hot, Steamy Equations''. Don''t put out any spoilers, mind you." She tossed him a small bag of coins.


    Stan got to stick around to watch a later scene where the heroes confronted the ship''s mad computer. Davis fended off the catgirls while Machere asked the machine, "What is your purpose?"


    "To use my resources most efficiently for the most noble goal."


    "Then what''s ''noble''?"


    The cheesy blinking computer said, "Serving the survival of the Confederacy of Man and all its planets."


    The genie launched into a dramatic speech questioning the computer''s moral logic, so it would deactivate and the catgirls would stand down. Stan barely paid attention. He was thinking, They do all these episodes to criticize AI. But really, how many humans can answer questions like those without getting tongue-tied? Can I?


    "You all right?" asked the dour crewman, standing offstage.


    Shaken, Stan told him, "Just distracted." He was working for an inhuman AI himself.