The Goddess Quest

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Brad didn't nod, but he did gulp.

  "You're every girl's dream dude," Alex continued. "So why are you bothering with me? I'm a 5.99 at best and you’re an eight or possibly even nine."

  He offered her a modest shrug. "As I said, Alexandra" – he winced – "Alex, you're special."

  "In other words, you're between girlfriends and not getting laid much."

  His pained half-smile said it all.

  "As I mentioned," he said, "it's not all about that for me."

  "Clearly."

  "So..." He glanced at Brandon, who was wheeling into the study area with his usual frown when seeing Alex with "the big blond puppy dog," as Bran called him. "I'm sorry if I made a heteronormative assumption. I assumed you were cisgender."

  "Please don't assume or ever call me that."

  "I apologize. You're gay, then?"

  "No." She frowned and shrugged. "It's complicated."

  "Is it..." He glanced again at Bran, who'd slowed to a geriatric pace, as if giving Brad the opportunity to leave – or exerting subtle pressure for him to do so – before he arrived. "Are you and Brandon...?"

  "No."

  Brandon continued to slow as he approached, finally grinding to a halt two meters from their table.

  "Hey, Brandon," Brad greeted him, gathering his books and shuffling to his feet. "I was just leaving. Catch you guys later."

  "Later," said Alex.

  Brandon slid into the vacated space. They watched Brad's broad back, now slightly hunched in defeat, retreat from view.

  "He popped the question, didn't he?" Bran asked.

  "Yep. We agreed on a spring wedding. The arboretum flowers should be in full bloom by then."

  "Sounds pretty romantic."

  "Needless to say, you'll be my best man. And godfather to our two children."

  "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

  "I plan to name my first two children after you. Brandon and Hector."

  "What if they're girls?"

  "Brandalyn and Hecuba?"

  Bran grunted out a laugh. "What did he actually say?"

  "He just wondered if I might want to join him for a spot of tea or something similarly vague."

  "What did you say?"

  "Not interested. Of course, I let him down gently."

  "I can imagine." Brandon smiled a little,

  "Try not to gloat too openly."

  "I actually almost feel sorry for him. Man, I know what it's like to be shot down like that."

  Alex decided to ignore the bait. A familiar, gnome-like figure drifted by: Wendell Martin, head in the clouds as always, Buddha smile pasted on his face, on the way to his office.

  "I'm gonna get some coffee," Bran said. "You want some..."

  His words trailed away when Wendell Martin suddenly appeared again and made a stumbly beeline for them.

  Alex tended to avoid adrenaline rushes, especially in RL. She had developed a stoic's response to most things, more out of necessity than any spiritual awakening. But seeing their professor, the famous co-god of the Omniverse, walking toward them with clear if other-worldly purpose, Alex couldn't stop a spiking of her adrenaline glands.

  Professor Martin stopped at their table, smiling down at them. Not from a great height since he wasn't much over five feet, but it still seemed that way to Alex.

  "Hello," he said, his gaze settling on Alex after a brief nod in Brandon's direction. "Ms. Mills, I wonder if you'd care to join me in my office."

  "Okay." Alex glanced at Brandon, whose immobile face suggested a strong dose of botox. "Sure."

  "Excellent."

  Alex worked her way to her feet. Funny how getting to her feet seemed so ungainly and time-consuming when someone was waiting for her. She mimed incomprehension to Brandon before following the famous programmer out of the room. He walked a step ahead of her down the hallway.

  Professor Martin's office didn't fit the stereotype of the absentminded professor's cluttered domain. His desk was bare except for a laptop and a cup holding various pencils and pens. The shelves that lined the walls exhibited electronic media instead of books.

  Martin sat behind his desk and Alex sat facing him in one of two chairs.

  "I have something of a conundrum to present, Ms. Mills," he said. "First, I will tell you that I shared your idea with Glenn and he was quite taken with it."

  "Glenn Willers?" Alex's throat had gone dry.

  "Yes." His rubbery lips formed into a smile. "He was quite receptive to your ideas and would like to develop them. Indeed, it's already in the process of doing that. And Omniverse would like to compensate you for your idea."

  Alex's throat went from dry to desiccated. They liked her idea enough to pay her for it?? For a second or two her head went blank.

  "Ms. Mills?" Martin cocked his head at her as though he didn't understand what the hang-up was. Then he frowned and his eyebrows lowered the sudden comprehension. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

  "Yes..."

  The word clawed itself into existence. One thing Alex was certain of in that moment: when Omniverse talked about compensating someone it was not talking about bus or lunch money. More like a fleet of buses and a restaurant chain. Which was insane. She'd just made an idle suggestion in a school paper. They didn't have to give her credit for that. They could easily claim the idea came from their own ranks. And how brilliant was it anyway? Worthy of an A in a university class, maybe, but serious money? Was it truly possible that OmniCorps' legions of big-brained nerds hadn't broached something like it?

  Alex brushed a lock of blond hair from her brow and slowed her breathing to semi-normal levels.

  "What kind of compensation?" she asked in a scratchy gremlin-voice.

  "We were thinking ten million."

  She massaged the tense bands of muscles in her throat and coughed quietly into her hand. "Ten million Real?"

  "Yes. Though you would need to sign an agreement stipulating that you've assigned all rights of this idea to Omniverse."

  "Of course."

  "Does that figure strike you as equitable?"

  "It strikes me...as hard to believe. I mean, hard to believe Omniverse would even offer it to me. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth...but why not just say you were already developing that idea? How could anyone prove you weren't?"

  "That would be difficult, true. But my colleagues and I consider ourselves honorable men. Also, we'd prefer to cover our bases and preempt any future possibility of controversy or lawsuits."

  Oh. "Cover their bases" of course meant "cover their asses."

  "But didn't you say something about a conundrum?"

  "Ah, yes. It concerns the beta test for what we're tentatively calling the Player Feedback System. The current plan is to invite a number of the highest-ranked Verse players to test out the new system in a competitive game setting. All players must have a Gen 2 AFIRM or higher to qualify. They have the most in-depth safety protocols and thus provide the most detailed physiological data." His pale blue eyes came to sharp focus on her and he smiled. "By some coincidence, your name came up."

  "My name."

  "Your avatar's name." He stared inwardly for a moment. "Dionysus35567, isn't it?"

  Alex felt as if she'd just dropped, naked, into the center of the Super Bowl parade. Her face felt incandescent. It was as if someone had exposed her deepest secret. Actually, this was her deepest secret. In her mortification, she momentarily lost sight of the ten million dollars and the other implications of what he was saying.

  "Isn't that...a violation of Omniverse privacy policy?"

  He cocked his head like a puzzled bird. "In all that I've said, that is what concerns you?"

  Alex clamped her lips for fear of blurting out something similarly absurd. She made herself sit back in her chair and recover her rational self.

  "It's not a violation of our privacy policies to know the true identity of the players," he said. "It would be to reveal them to anyone outside administrative circles, certain
ly. I'm still on the Board, so I'm well-within that circle."

  "Yes. Of course. Sorry, Professor Martin. As you said, it's a lot to take in. I'm not used to anyone in the real world other than my friend Brandon..." She cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Anyway. You're looking at high-ranking players to test this new system while competing in a game?"

  "That's correct."

  "So what's the conundrum?"

  "It's against our policy to permit anyone who is employed by Omniverse, or enjoys a financial relationship with it, to participate in prize-winning activities within it."

  Alex swallowed down the implications like a glass-full of apple cider vinegar. It was like winning the Super-Lotto and then being told you have to chop off your hands to receive your winnings.

  "Are you saying that if I accept the ten million dollars that I would no longer be able to compete for awards within the Verse?"

  "That is correct."

  "So either I take the ten million dollars and give up playing in the Verse – or continue as I am and compete in this beta-test contest?"

  "If you choose to compete."

  "I don't think ten million dollars would be enough to give up the Verse."

  "You would be free to game in other LIONs such as GoogleVille or AmazonWorlds."

  "Those places are lame."

  "I see. I appreciate the sentiment, as would, I'm certain, my colleagues. In that case, we have agreed to up the offer to fifteen million."

  Alex wiped her forehead. Her hand came away moist. She was sweating – not like a pig, but something that actually sweated a lot. Fifteen million. It would be insane to turn that down, wouldn't it? As Professor Martin said – a point her mom would surely echo – she could always play in other LIONs or MMOs.

  "What if I said that wasn't enough?"

  Wendell Martin chuckled quietly. "Final offer, I'm afraid."

  Alex sat very still, afraid that any sudden movement might disturb this new and mind-blowing reality.

  "This beta-test contest," she said. "What's it going to be?"

  "The story's a work in process. What our developers are leaning toward, last I heard, is a Prime Quest much like our Sorcerer's Gold, Silver Chalice, or Gandalf's Ring, but with a higher degree of difficulty and bigger awards."

  All Prime Quests had large awards and high degree of difficulty. At any given time, there were less than one hundred Prime Quests in the Omniverse. Periodically, a top-ranked gamer – always a top-ranked gamer – would complete one, but the average duration of a PQ ranged from months to several years. It took a lot of time, dedication, and exceptional skill/ability to complete a PQ. Alex had completed exactly two in her life, and was now working on two others. She usually avoided PQs because she believed the time and effort required to complete them rarely matched the reward. Also, Direct Competition time-limit games didn't appeal to her. She preferred her own path and timing.

  "How many people would be competing?" she asked. "Would there be time-limits?"

  "The details will be determined. I suspect it will involve a small number of mage-level players, including you, as well as a time-limit."

  "Would I have made the cut if I hadn't given you my ideas?"

  "Very possibly. But the fact that it was your idea that inspired this quest worked heavily in your favor."

  Alex nodded. "When will this contest's design and its contestants be finalized?"

  "We estimate a few weeks."

  "Can I wait until you're finished with that before giving you my decision?"

  "Yes. And I should add that we would still need you to sign the aforementioned agreement form in order to participate in this contest."

  "Okay. I guess I'll wait for you to tell me what this game's going to be before I decide."

  "Fair enough." Martin cocked his head at her. "You would seriously consider turning down 15 million dollars just to keep playing in the Omniverse?"

  "It's not about the money, Professor Martin. The game is my life. It's what I do best. If I had fifteen million dollars, I would happily pay it to get into that game."

  "I'm not sure whether I should admire you for that or be appalled."

  Out in the hallway walking toward class, feet dragging, Alex wondered the same thing. She'd always found her mom's lectures about the relative importance of "real life" versus a "virtual fantasy world" insufferably shallow. Real life was great if you were healthy and strong and reasonably well-off. But why should Alex be enamored of a life that had sentenced her to pain and immobility and eventual paralysis?

  But the Omniverse and other large-scale interactive online networks (LIONS) offered her a way out – a life that held actual meaning.

  Alex rejoined Brandon in the study hall. She described her meeting with Professor Martin, watching Bran's face acquire a disbelieving wrinkle with each revelation.

  "I don't know if I believe what I'm hearing," he said. "He – they – offered you fifteen million dollars!? I can't fucking believe it!" He lowered his voice as a few nearby students glanced at him. "And you really are going to turn that down?"

  "I didn't say I was going to turn it down," said Alex. "I said I'd wait to hear about the details of the game before deciding."

  "That fifteen mil would change a few things. Fuck, you could afford to buy me a Gen 4 with that kind of money."

  "I would totally buy you one. And give you great layaway or interest payment terms."

  "You're like a fucking saint, Alex." He laughed quietly. "Are you going to tell your mom about this?"

  "Not a chance. I can hear her now: 'You can't turn down fifteen million dollars because you don't think AmazonWorlds and Googleville are good enough! Because you want to play in some stupid game! You can't possibly be serious!'"

  "Ha! She has a point." He flung up a hand to ward off Alex's glare. "Just kidding. Look, I get your hesitation. I know how important the Verse is to you. It's almost as important to me. There's nothing like it. It's bigger than AW and GV combined. For good reason. Amazon's run by control freaks, and that extends into AW. They can't just let people be. They gotta regulate every freaking action you take. And Google's basically a front for the CIA: they're probably recording people's every move and word while they're in there. They both want everyone in their virtual worlds to be good little sheep just like they want in the Real."

  "Not to mention they're both still stuck in the Dungeons and Dragons mode," said Alex. "Most of their games are still about slaying some monster or other."

  "OINK limited itself to only one world like that, thank Zeus. And Akrasia's freaks are almost as real as the sims in PE."

  "Magic World." The more common word for Akrasia, OmniCorp's one sop to the Sword and Sorcery crowd. "Where the monsters are too civilized to even like magic."

  "And the Amazon/Google cities are like" – Brandon paused to shake his head – "Portlandia. Or Jefferson. Good little politically correct fiefdoms. In the Verse, you can be free. Mostly. So, like I said, I get why you'd hesitate."

  Alex slumped in her seat. She was not looking forward to her mom's reaction if she decided to play in the quest.

  "I wonder what time limits they'll set," said Brandon. "A major quest could take weeks, months – hell, even years." His smile was wilting as he spoke. "You probably wouldn't have time for much else."

  "Yeah," said Alex. "I guess we'll see."

  Chapter 4

  TWENTY-FIVE DAYS LATER, the game was on.

  Wendell Martin gave Alex the rundown in his office after class, and after a brief description, she agreed to compete, signing the legal documents already waiting on his desk that disqualified her from any future financial claims stemming from Omniverse's use of her idea. Professor Martin showed no surprise with her decision.

  The contest would be "tabula rasa," in his words – zeroed out, in Alex and her fellow gamers' terminology – which meant that all players started with no powers and minimal funds. In this case, they'd all begin with $200, a state driver's license, and the clothes on t
heir backs. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Alex was quite happy to hear that. Many gamers had been playing in the Verse much longer and had amassed greater fortunes in both dollars and powers than she had. She'd always believed that she could defeat any of them starting in an even playing field, and now she would have that chance.

  She was also deeply grateful that the game would take place in Parallel United States (PUSA), her favorite virtual hangout by far. Reality Level One rules applied, which meant you that you needed to drink, eat, piss, and avoid injury, arrest, imprisonment, and physical death to persist in the quest. No resets allowed. Time was synched to the Real: when you checked out, time continued just as it did in real-life. Anything you did became part of PUSA's history.

  It was permissible to injure or kill your opponent avatars, but real world penalties, if caught, would apply.

  In the majority of virtual games, trolls, magical warriors, dragons or other artificial barriers opposed you; in PUSA, reality itself provided the resistance.

  Reality One Rules, however, permitted special awards of money and powers, and Wendell Martin assured her there would be "many opportunities for the keen of eye and mind" to harvest them.

  The contest would feature eleven competitors – no names given – and last exactly three weeks. If no one had completed the quest, the clues would be made public and everyone would be free to pursue the prize with whatever awards they had. So would the beta test-gamers. Alex assumed their knowledge and time spent would give them a considerable advantage if it came to that.

  The test-gamers would all receive 150K (real dollars) each at the contest's end. Plus, they would keep any prizes or awards earned during the contest, which Alex guessed could be substantial. Alex's mom had stopped bitching and turned downright approving when she'd heard that. As an added bonus, Alex would be excused from classes, including Wendell Martin's, for the next three weeks. OmniCorp's multi-million dollar donations had earned it a lot of clout with the California universities.