The Goddess Quest

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "I take a lot of breaks," said Alex. "In fact, I was at the gym when I had my little problem. And my mom exaggerates."

  "What kind of exercises are you doing now?"

  "Weightlifting. Some aerobics like treadmills. Stretching."

  "As you know, Alexandra, I strongly encourage exercise for your condition. But is it possible you may be working out more intensely during your breaks from the Verse to compensate for your longer periods online?"

  Yes, Alex thought, that could be it. She had been pushing herself harder between sessions to maintain her strength.

  "I think you could be right about that," she said. "Maybe I should stop the weightlifting and do gentle yoga or something instead?"

  "You could reduce your virtual time, too," said Dr. Walters. "Let your MAP or 'ganger' sweat the small stuff as much as possible?"

  "I'm doing that as we speak." And trying not to worry herself to death about it. But right now, her avatar was merely driving down the highway. It should be capable of that, right?

  "Good." Dr. Walters leaned forward, unclasping her hands, her eyes flicking to Cindy Mills before settling on Alex. "From what I can see, what happened to you today was almost certainly due to stress. I know you want to win this competition, Alex, but you can't win it if you burn yourself out."

  "I know. It's a marathon, not a sprint."

  "Exactly."

  "Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Dr. Walters," said Alex's mom. "We really appreciate it."

  Driving home, Alex sensed her mom relaxing, the beginning of a smile on her face, while Alex felt her panic over possible health complications preventing her from continuing the quest subsiding. It would be okay. She'd just have to rest more often and leave more to her ganger.

  "You're going to take Dr. Walters' advice, aren't you?" Cindy stated more than asked. "Reduce your time in AFIRM?"

  "I plan to."

  Her mom's look suggested she found the reply less than reassuring. "I hope you do, honey. All your money won't do you any good if you're sick. Same for winning the grand prize."

  "Right." Alex didn't want to waste energy arguing with or even reassuring her mother. All she could think of was getting back in the game.

  "I was quite impressed with your workout partner, Brad. He seemed quite concerned about you in the ER."

  "Brad's a concerned kind of guy."

  "I'm surprised I haven't met him before – that he's never come to the house. He told me you've been working together for nearly a year."

  Alex gazed out the window, longing for this ride to be over.

  "He seems like such a nice young man. And quite handsome as well."

  "I'm sure he'll make some lucky little lady very happy."

  Cindy smoothed out her scowl with evident effort. "He seems to have feelings for you. Granted, that's just an impression – I don't know him, obviously – but the fact that he carried you into the ER and the way he looked at you –"

  "Mother." Alex's voice had the tone of a steel door slamming shut. "I like Brad. Just not in that way."

  "Oh." Her face fell. "I guess I never really have been clear about ...well, what you do like."

  "That makes two of us."

  "But Alex...you must have some idea...what you're attracted to. What you find attractive. I know it's none of my business, but I am curious."

  Alex felt the usual resistance when discussing personal things with her mom raising its hideous head. But...really, what difference did it make? I'm not a kid anymore. Perhaps soon I'll be a virtual god. She'd rarely let other people's feelings stop her from speaking her mind. Maybe it was time to apply that rule to her mom?

  "You know what I find attractive?" Alex said. "Strength."

  "A strong man?"

  "Yes. Exactly."

  "But then Brad..."

  "I don't find it attractive in another man, especially. I find the idea of being a man attractive."

  "You're transgender?" Cindy cleared her throat, and appeared to swallow painfully. "A...transgendered male?"

  "A virtual transgendered male, maybe." Alex released a dry chuckle seeing some of the terror recede from her mom's face.

  "You mean your avatar is male." Her mom's tight lips relaxed into a half-smile of relief. "That's not uncommon at all, from what I've read. And some men prefer female avatars, right?"

  "Sure. It's laissez-faire on any LION. I wouldn't make too much out of it."

  "I can understand why you'd like being a man. Sometimes when I drag out the garbage or lift a box of books I have that fantasy myself. Your dad used to do all the 'heavy lifting' in our relationship." She smiled.

  "Right," said Alex. She resumed gazing out the passenger window.

  "But I was talking more about a, well, romantic attraction."

  "I have no interest in romance, Mom."

  "Because..." Her mom coughed into one hand. "Because of the Friedreich's ataxia?"

  "Well, since there won't be any picket fences, kids, peacefully growing old together, I'd say FA did change my priorities just a little. I decided to focus on something I can do, in a world that allows me to do it."

  "Gaming," said Cindy.

  "It's what I do the best."

  "You must be one of the best. One of the very best in the world, considering your invitation to the Goddess Quest." A soft note of pride swelled in her voice. "We always knew you were intellectually gifted, of course, but we never took your virtual gaming seriously. Yet you can actually make a real living doing what you do!"

  Alex gave her a slim smile. "Sometimes better than real."

  Chapter 9

  ALEX REJOINED HER DOPPELGANGER just departing Highway 25 for Santa Fe, New Mexico. Predictably, her avatar had handled itself just fine during her absence. She felt a little guilty and lazy about taking a long afternoon nap after the ER incident, but she'd lost nothing and was now fresh as a fucking daisy. Time to catch a killer.

  She drove north for twenty minutes or so and followed the signs west for Los Alamos. She kept her eyes open for NM-30 North, the road where the accident occurred that Morrison described in his "dawn's highway" passage. The highway appeared several miles out from Los Alamos, and Alex exited onto it, reducing her speed. Not a lot to keep her mind occupied amidst the shrub-laced landscape except an intriguing anvil-shaped rock to the east. A few cars rolled past, bearing tourists and what she guessed were Mexican workers.

  A storm arrived as suddenly as if some cartoon sky god was blowing the black clouds in over the hills. Buckets of water pelted her windshield. Alex pulled off the road into a small patch of gravel near a deserted utility building. She turned off the windshield wipers but left the engine running. The temperature had plummeted from the mid-seventies into the sixties or below in a matter of minutes. A realistic chill invaded the van as winds rocked it. Alex turned off the air conditioning and tapped the heater on to its lowest setting.

  A knock on her door made her jump. A young woman with a backpack stood outside, hunched under a jacket, smiling apologetically. She raised a hand in friendly greeting. Alex rolled down the window.

  "Sorry," said the woman, smoothing frayed, wet hair from her eyes. "Any chance I hang out with you for a minute until this stops? I feel like I'm about ready to drown out here."

  "Ah...sure. Why don't you drop your backpack in back?"

  "Thanks! You're saving my life here!"

  While the girl circled back and opened the van's rear doors, Alex slipped her pistol out of her waist holster and placed it under the front edge of her seat next to the Colt AR. The passenger door popped open and the girl climbed inside.

  "Whew!" she said. "Thanks! It's like an apocalypse movie out there!"

  "Yeah. It seemed to come out of nowhere."

  They studied each other. She was slim and long-limbed, her long brown hair a mass of waves and tangles, her tanned face pretty in the girl next door way, clean-featured and sweet, no over the top modeling.

  "I'm Henna," she said, thrusting out her han
d.

  "Alex."

  They shook hands. Alex continued studying her, until she batted a curl from her eyes and faced forward with a self-conscious little laugh. People usually gave tells for their true age and sex – often not terribly subtle – but she seemed to be what she appeared to be. That awkward hair-batting and small laugh was essence de teenage girl/young woman.

  "What?" the woman asked, glancing at him. "Do I remind you of someone or something?"

  "The girl next door?"

  She laughed. "The girl next door who hikes virtually cross-country?"

  "Is that what you're doing?"

  "Some hiking, some hitchhiking. Whatever works to keep me moving. It's something I always wanted to do in the Real, but my sense of self-preservation stopped me. But no worries about that here."

  Alex smiled, nodding, but reserving judgment. She did not trust coincidences during a game in the Verse. In her experience, people rarely just popped up out of nowhere for no reason, especially during a quest. But traveling was a common pastime in all the LIONs. She could be doing exactly what she was claiming.

  "How about you?" Henna asked. "What are up to out here?"

  Alex considered her options. It would be nice to have a clear answer about who this person was, which she might achieve by being honest, but it was possible that could backfire somehow. In a worst-case scenario, she might take Alex out. Paranoid, perhaps, but she had no way of knowing at this point how strong or physically capable this person was.

  In the Verse, all avatars, regardless of modeling, started out with the same basic physical power. The Default Avatar Setting. No strength advantage came from being a man or a woman or even a massively proportioned ogre. The only way you could add power in the Verse – unlike Googleville and Yahooland, where you could purchase powerful avatars off the shelf– was by winning awards or building yourself up the same way you would in the Real: through strength and combat training programs.

  "Not to be nosy or anything," said Henna. "I'm happy just to be sitting here out of the rain."

  "That's okay," said Alex. "Actually, I'm here to take down a killer."

  The girl froze. Alex watched her intently, every sense on high alert, reading every clue in her body and face. She was startled, clearly, but then so would anybody. But Henna was also concerned. Alex saw it in her eyes. Maybe she suspected Alex might be a psycho.

  "What killer?" she asked.

  "The Highwayman. I'm sure you've heard of him." Alex paused. "Or her."

  "Oh. Uh, sure I've heard of him. Or her." She released a short laugh. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you...like, the police? FBI or something? But I didn't think they hired avatars..."

  Being an avatar herself tended to confute the possibility that she was the Highwayman, since a free agent wouldn't be resettable for the other competitors or even controllable.

  "Some avatars work for the FBI and other government agencies," Alex said. "In fact, the Parallel U.S.A. Government has programs – some of them covert – that employ 'augmented' individuals. But I don't work for them. I guess you could say I'm a private investigator."

  "I didn't think you looked like a fed." She shot him a nervous smile. "Not that appearances mean much here."

  "Exactly."

  "So...you have some reason to think this psycho 'virtual-killer' is in this area?"

  "Just a gut feeling."

  "Oh. Uh...okay. So if you're a private investigator, who's hiring you?"

  "You seem awfully interested in the details. You wouldn't happen to be the Highwayman, would you?"

  "Are you crazy?" Her laugh was half-alarmed, half-sardonic. "Do I seem like a serial killer to you?"

  "As you said, appearances here don't mean much."

  Outside, the rain was diminishing. The sun wrestled dark storm clouds for dominion.

  "Well, good luck with that," said Henna, gathering her windbreaker around her. "The rain's dying down, so I guess I'll get going. Thanks again for the shelter."

  Alex reluctantly watched the girl open the door and clamber outside, circling in a near-run to the rear of the van. The backdoors clanked open and shut. Since the rear doors had no windows, Alex couldn't see her until she crossed into view of the passenger-side mirror – just a glimpse and she was gone.

  If that had been the Highwayman, Alex wouldn't have thought she'd go so gently into that stormy good day. Knowing someone was after her/him, and that person was sitting there seemingly ripe for the taking... But then maybe Alex in her Dionysus form didn't look that ripe or takeable?

  Alex put the van in gear and rolled back onto the rural highway, continuing north. She hadn't gone more than a quarter-mile before she encountered a rolled-over bright green SUV ringed by highway patrol and country sheriff cars and two ambulances blocking the road in both directions. Paramedics were carting apparent victims across the sandy soil to the ambulances.

  Alex slowed to a stop behind a white pickup with a dirt-splattered bumper sticker that read: Keep America Free: Ventura-Smith 2024. A cop was talking to the driver ahead of them and taking a long look at his two companions. He moved on to Alex, who rolled down his window.

  "Good afternoon, sir."

  "Officer."

  "I see you have Las Vegas plates. Business in the area?"

  "No. On vacation." Alex nodded to the SUV. "Looks like a pretty bad accident. The rain?"

  The officer shook his head, a dark cast coming over his face. "It wasn't any accident. All five passengers – including two children – were shot in the head at close range. Some are missing appendages."

  Ka-ching. In real-life, Alex would've been horrified rather than excited, but those people weren't truly dead or mutilated, and now she knew her quarry was close at hand. Or had been. She could've flown the digital coop by now.

  "You don't look too surprised," said the highway patrolman, squinting at him. "Or too upset, either."

  "I'm kind of a stoic."

  The officer squinted at Alex with more intent. It didn't pay to be sarcastic with sims – particularly police-sims, since they were programmed to be like real cops, who tended to hate smartasses or people who didn't bow to their authority. Alex wasn't much of a "bower." More like King Leonidas and his sore thigh.

  "Did you see anyone who looked out of place or strange on the road within the last twenty or thirty minutes?"

  Alex couldn't see any advantage to mentioning the girl.

  "No," she said. "Except that electrical storm."

  "All right," said the highway patrol officer. "I.D. and registration."

  Alex handed him her driver's license and dug the registration out of the glove compartment. No proof of insurance required. Mandatory insurance laws – what Alex referred to as "Big Insurance subsidies" – had never been passed here.

  The officer retreated to his car, waving the pickup ahead of Alex on. Alex idled up to take its place. The cops were making her uneasy. No reason to think they were a threat, but even in a world where there was no militarization of the police or asset-seizure – and illegitimate uses of police force drew severe financial and even criminal penalties as opposed to promotions – encounters with law enforcement could still go sour.

  The sun emerged and struck the van. The heat inside built with surprising, perhaps unrealistic, speed. Alex flicked on the air conditioning. That was when she noticed the odd smell coming from behind her. She rose up over her seat to get a view of the back. The girl's backpack was still there, lying by the rear doors.

  Several thoughts sprang into her head at once. Had Henna left it in a panic? No, she'd pretended to pick it up. That meant deception.

  The cop was still in his patrol car, eyeing his onboard computer. Alex climbed out of the van and made a show of stretching before strolling around and opening the van's rear doors. The smell was stronger now. Sort of a meaty, fast-food smell – but the odor you'd get from the dumpsters behind McDonald's rather than in the restaurant.

  This can't be
good. With a sense of impending disaster, Alex unzipped the top. An abattoir odor spilled out. Her fingers encountered something smooth and wet. She jerked her hands back. Her fingertips were slick with what appeared to be blood. She sniffed them. Blood.

  Missing appendages. That's what the cop had said. Speaking of which, the highway patrol officer was heading back to her, license and registration in hand. Alex wiped her fingers on the backpack and shut the doors. She affected a casual air. The cop extended her license and registration. Alex reached to accept them. She traced his sharp glance at her hand to a splotch of red between her thumb and forefingers.

  "Isn't that blood?" he asked.

  "Oh, yeah. Must've cut it on the door."

  The cop glanced from her hand to the door. "Would you mind opening your rear doors?"

  Of all the cops she had to meet, she had to get stuck with Inspector Javert. Alex suspected she knew why Henna the Highwayman had left her backpack in the van. Set up the guy who's pursuing her. Even without a road stop, all it would’ve taken to punch her ticket was one call reporting "a weird guy with body parts in a blue van."

  "Okay," said Alex.

  Alex couldn't see any better option. If she refused, he'd just detain her and call in a search warrant. So now what? She wasn't seeing a lot of options at this point.

  Alex opened the doors. The officer's eyes riveted, predictably, to the lines of blood her fingers had imprinted on the backpack.

  "May I take a look inside your pack?" he asked.

  Alex sighed. Denying him permission would only delay the inevitable. It was time to change tactics.

  "Yes, Officer. I don't know what's in there, but I have a feeling it's not going to be good."

  "How would you not know what's in there?"

  "It's not my backpack. A hitchhiker – a young woman – left it in there."

  "I thought you said you hadn't seen anyone?"

  "You asked if I'd seen anyone who looked strange or out of place."

  The officer shot Alex a scowl and leaned inside for the backpack. Alex watched her chance of winning the Goddess Quest slip away. She had a vision of drawing her Gerber assault knife, slitting his throat, and shoving him into the back of the van alongside the backpack and her suitcase. But then what? Her chances of driving quietly away without the other cops noticing – in fact, two of them were staring at her van right now, probably wondering what their fellow was doing back here – were nil to none. Could she defeat six cops (five, once she'd taken out the officer ruffling through the backpack)? Not a great bet, but the AR under her front seat should make that doable. But what it wasn't so much what happened now as later. Her ID was now in the system. She'd be a fugitive. She'd need to "wash" her identity somehow.