The Goddess Quest

by Lawrence Ambrose

  The girl rolled off Alex with a happy sigh. Alex replayed her avatar's MAP memory on a small movie screen in the darkness of the van. The girl had knocked on a rear door identifying herself, unsurprisingly, as Lainey Madison, explaining that she'd followed Alex to the turnout, left the Verse for a few hours – her parents placed a strict curfew on her virtual activity – and returned later to the van.

  "Whoa!" said the girl. "I've never been with an AFIRM avatar before! Gen 4?"

  "Gen 3. You're Gen 4, though, right?"

  Alex couldn't stop a smidge of bitter accusation from her voice. A total amateur like her possessing a top-of-the-line virtual unit. Made a person question the fairness of the universe.

  "Yes, Gen 4." She sounded apologetic, perhaps hearing the bitterness in Alex's tone. "That's still pretty close to top-of-the-line. The best I've ever had, anyway. It's what I always dreamed real sex would be like!"

  Alex offered no comment.

  "I've never had real sex," she added unnecessarily. "Haven't even had much virtual sex – just started 'doing it' online this last year, and it was so lame I mostly gave up. But I thought it would be different with you. Thank God I followed my instincts!"

  She was so obviously young and girlish that Alex couldn't work up much resentment toward her.

  "I know what you're thinking," she said in a small, guilty voice. "Spoiled little rich girl gets a Gen 4 while you, a Mage – a true artist – has a Gen 3."

  Alex was thinking more about Dionysus35567's reputation if she were to publish this encounter online. Lainey might be well over the age of consent – thirteen for the Omniverse parallel U.S. sixteen for real America – but the immoral majority considered it ethically questionable and "creepy" for older people to have sex with teenagers, and while she wasn't into fandom, she didn't particularly want to take that hit.

  "Hey, I'm spoiled to have a Gen 3," said Alex. "Not many gamers can afford that."

  "Are you, like, a middle-aged businessman or something? You seem young, but in here it can be awfully hard to tell."

  "No, I'm not middle-aged. I'm only a few years older than you."

  "I thought so. Not that it would matter much to me if you were a lot older. An older man could be fun, though the idea of sex with some greasy, fat old fart is kinda creepy."

  "Well, I'm neither fat nor especially greasy, and that's as much as you're going to get from me. Also, though I know you want to share what just happened with your friends, if not the world, I'd strongly appreciate it if you didn't. I'd prefer not having my avatar associated with screwing teenagers."

  "But you let me in," Lainey said, sounding hurt. "You went along with it."

  "I was in MAP mode."

  "Oh." She frowned. "The whole time?"

  "I arrived just when we were...finishing."

  "Hmm." Her frown grew unreassuringly. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

  "Sure, but I wouldn't have done it if I'd been present. I programmed my MAP myself, but I dumbly didn't code an age limitation."

  Lainey sighed voluminously. "Being young just sucks sometimes. Especially if you're an old soul like me."

  "I'm sure you can find plenty of young old souls in the Verse."

  "Not with AFIRMs." She laughed. "I think I'm in love."

  "Typical female. Screw her and she gets all touchy-feely and emotional."

  The girl rolled to face her, perching on one elbow, checking Alex/Dionysus's face. Alex gave her a thin smile.

  "Ha," Lainey said with a short, semi-awkward laugh. "Of course, I was joking. Seriously, the idea of being with you was what made it special."

  "Though 'me' is only a product of your imagination."

  "But I have a really good imagination."

  Alex smiled. Not bad, for seventeen years. Still, normal, healthy young people had no fucking clue how profound the oldster's "If you have your health, you have everything" was. It took health issues to make a young person truly an "old soul."

  "Could we do this again?" Lainey asked. "You know, since we're two of those rare people who have AFIRMs?"

  "Not tonight," said Alex. "I have a headache. Or I will have, if I don't get some sleep. I've got a long fucking day tomorrow."

  "Another time?"

  Alex considered blowing her off for good, but a pissed off teenage girl could be counted on telling all. A delay tactic seemed called for.

  "After this contest is over, maybe," she said. "If you've been a good girl and kept your mouth shut."

  "I'm not sure about being a good girl, but I can keep my mouth shut."

  Chapter 5

  ALEX RE-ENTERED THE OMNIVERSE twenty minutes before the eight A.M. van ride to the top of the Crazy Horse statue. She was one of only seven people who'd purchased the $20 tickets. Three of them were noisy children whose excited chatter beat Alex's sleep-deprived brain like a rusty drum.

  The virtual statue had one startling advantage over its real-life version: As Olivia Graham had said, it was complete and magnificent – enough so to make Alex not worry that she might be wasting her time here now. That possibility diminished in her eyes when she spotted the Indian who'd sold her the California wood carving yesterday, sitting to one side of the rising mass of granite behind a folding table offering the same sculptures and carvings while wearing the same aviator sunglasses and impassive expression.

  "Hi, again," she said. The Native American gave no response. She set the dollar coin on the table. "What can I buy with this?"

  "Nothing here," said the man.

  "Where, then?"

  "A vending machine at the Mount Rushmore Memorial will accept that coin."

  "Stick it where the sun don't shine?"

  When the Indian didn't reply, Alex moved away from his stand and followed the tour guide and tourists around the statue. For the next thirty minutes, the tour guide's droning voice began to resemble sharp nails scratching chalkboard as she visualized the vending machine across the hills at Mount Rushmore waiting impatiently to receive her coin and shower her with rewards for solving the First Stage.

  At long last, they boarded the van and slogged down the hill back to the Memorial building complex. From there it was a quick jog to her van, and she was winding her way across the Black Hills to the Dead Presidents.

  Was it possible that one of her ten competitors had beaten her to it? Hard to believe, but then she was competing against about the best of the best. She wasn't the only one who could solve puzzles quickly and travel fast.

  "What's the point of worrying about it?" she asked herself, her voice a hollow echo in the van. "Even if I'm the first, there are four more discovery stages for them to catch up – or for me to fuck up."

  In twenty minutes, Alex strode through the main entrance. She corralled a park ranger and asked about vending machines. After scratching his head, the only vending machine he could think of was a postage stamp machine in the food area before the Avenue of the Flags.

  Alex located the postage machine easily enough in front of Carver's Café. It had the usual dollar reader and a slot for quarters, neither of which would work with her special dollar coin. But she noticed a larger slot above the others, enclosed by a Crazy Horse-Mount Rushmore logo. Here goes. Alex inserted her coin. Kachunk! The machine made a contented digestive sound, and a small padded envelop rattled into the bottom dispenser.

  Alex tore it open. Inside was a shiny aqua-blue credit card made out to Dionysus35567. The paper read:

  Congratulations, Dionysus35567! You are the first to solve Stage One!

  Your credit card has a balance of $50,000, which includes a $25,000 bonus for being first.

  You have also been awarded 3X your default strength.

  Alex lifted her arms experimentally. They felt lighter, but not pumped full of power or anything. She took a little hop – and found herself about two feet in the air. Some passersby shot her puzzled looks and edged away. Alex smiled. Definitely more hops. How far could she jump if she really tried? For the moment, anyway, she was the
strongest gamer in this quest. Stronger than the vast majority of sims and avatars. Enhanced-strength awards weren't easy to come by. If she bumped into any of her competitors right now, she could for sure kick their asses. She smiled.

  Now for your next clue:

  The Odds are bad, yet millions stay

  to try their hand, reverse fate's spin

  a thousand games, a million ways

  to lose your cash, yet a few do win

  Find your dog, so fit for play

  In a palace of heat and sin

  So a casino. Heat. Sin? As in Sin City? Alex sat on a nearby bench and searched the Vegas casinos for dogs on her cell. Only one came up: the Year of the Dog statue in the Wynn casino. Las Vegas it was, then. She reserved a flight from Rapid City in two hours. Piece of fucking cake.

  "Hey," a girl called.

  For a fearful moment, Alex thought it was Lainey Madison. It was worse: Athena. Now blond, hair chopped short, tortoise-shell sunglasses, long legs poured into jeans, her upper body wrapped in a long-sleeved windbreaker. The rules prohibited changing your avatar mid-game, but allowed for disguise. Athena sashayed over and dropped down on the bench beside her.

  "Nice hair," said Alex. "Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery and all."

  "I wasn't imitating you. Just looking for a maximum contrast with the girl they watched battle Dionysus."

  "Funny, I don't remember any battle – just a complete ass-kicking."

  "Well, technically, it was still a battle." Her smile held a hint of fangs. "Is that how it's gonna be? You busting my butt?"

  "Of course that's how it's going to be. We're competitors, remember?"

  "I didn't even know we'd be competing. Not until I saw you sitting over here playing with your cell. I knew you were here for the same reason I am."

  "I wouldn't have thought you were high enough ranked to get the call."

  "Yeah." She was scowling. "I'm not even in the top three hundred in this class of games. I don't think even you are in the top hundred in team competition."

  "Nope. I usually avoid these kinds of contests."

  "But here we are. The quest for a goddess. Weird coincidence."

  "What brought you here?"

  Athena half-frowned, hesitant. She shrugged. "'Face to face with history.' Had to be some kind of national monument. You?"

  "Same thing."

  "But I'm still putting the rest of it together." She released an exasperated grunt. "Interestingly, I haven't made out any competitors other than you skulking around."

  "I haven't, either."

  "Almost makes me wonder if we're the ones off-track," said Athena.

  "I wondered the same thing."

  Athena stared at him for a long moment before snickering. "Bullshit. You already crushed it, didn't you?"

  "Nope."

  "You're lying."

  "I always lie to my competitors."

  Athena stared at him for another long moment, but this time her snicker edged into a genuine laugh. "You won't even give a girlfriend a tiny clue?"

  "If I intentionally gave you a clue or helped you in any way we'd both be eliminated from the game. You do remember that rule, don't you?"

  Athena settled back in the bench with a sigh and a nod. "I should warn you, I have a self-sabotaging streak. Especially when it comes to guys."

  "So I noticed."

  "What do you make of the new feedback rating thing we're supposed to be beta-testing?"

  "Aside from it being ingenious?" Alex trimmed down her sardonic smile. Athena might become suspicious. "Otherwise, I have no idea what if any effect it's having. I doubt the feedback will be a deciding factor. I'm going to win, regardless."

  "You're going to become the god of the Omniverse?"

  "You better believe it. The only question is who's coming in second."

  "Such a typical guy ego," Athena sighed. "God, I wish I could have your self-confident male arrogance. Even if it is delusional."

  "If it's delusional, why would you want it?"

  "It's a fake it till you make it deal, I think. You guys believe so strongly that you're superior gamers that you work harder to prove it."

  Alex smiled. It was so tempting to tell the girl the truth. Maybe someday. "Interesting theory."

  "I got a million of 'em."

  "See you around, Athens." Alex stood up, pocketing her cell, her new credit card firmly enclosed in her wallet. "Good luck."

  "Yeah, right. You, too. Hopefully, I won't be too far behind."

  Alex left her slumped on the bench, pouting. Some goddess of war. Yet she felt a little buoyed by her unexpected presence in the game. But why was she in the game? Her current overall rank (OR) of 165 made her a Mage level Gamer but well-removed from the Apex status reserved for the Top 50. Alex's own 77 OR fell short of Apex as well, but then she'd created her own special ticket into the Goddess Quest.

  Maybe her ticket had validated Athena's? Wendell Martin and his pals would know about their battle. That had to be it. Otherwise, the odds against selecting them both were astronomical.

  Back at Rapid City Regional, Alex availed herself of her newfound riches to reserve a suite at the Wynn Hotel and a car rental at the Vegas airport. She then stuffed her face at Burger King to raise her nutrient metric. As usual, junk food was a nice treat, even if the virtual hamburger tasted like day-old roadkill wrapped in lawn mulch. But at least it had a meaty taste, which was more than she could say about anything she ate in real life.

  Waiting for her flight to Sin City, Alex searched the Wynn Hotel virtually, soon locating a transparent giant red mutt in the main lobby. It was almost too easy – except for the complete lack of clues once she got there. No doubt further clues would reveal themselves to her steel-trap mind once she arrived at the casino.

  On the plane, with just over two hours of flight ahead, Alex leaned back in her seat and checked out of the Verse into the so-called real world.

  BACK IN the Real, it was a mad rush of fitness, eating, cleaning, with a smidgen of human interaction thrown in. She picked through one of her mom's refrigerated health plates – a potpourri of flavonoids-tannins-phytates-anthocyanins-proanthocynanins-rich food – before joining Brad Tiller in the gym. Later, a brain-sparring session with Brandon, and then back to the game.

  "Your mind's not here today," said Brad, pumping an elliptical machine beside her as she stumbled on her treadmill machine. "I mean, even more than normal."

  "It's my thoughts," said Alex, forcing her body upright and her legs into a simulacrum of a run. "They're so weighty."

  "It's the reason they let you out of classes," he said. "You're in some kind of study, aren't you?"

  "Something like that."

  "Is it stressful?"

  "You could say that."

  "It's the gaming," he declared with a sad shake of his head. "It takes a terrible toll on your body."

  "As opposed to my genetic degenerative disorder?"

  "That just makes it that much more important to get exercise and avoid sedentary habits, Alexandra!" He grimaced. "Alex. Sitting's the new smoking, you know? And lying around all day probably is even worse."

  Alex stopped the machine and stood leaning on the handles, unable to summon the energy for a pointless reply.

  "What's your handle, anyway?" Brad asked.

  "The Energizer Bunny."

  Brad smiled without feeling. "I'll bet you're pretty good, whatever your name is."

  "You'd win that bet."

  "I could never get much into it. Too much life and sunshine going on outside, you know?"

  Alex climbed down from the machine. Across the room, Brandon was pumping a chest machine with extreme prejudice, rolling his eyes as if hearing their conversation.

  "I hope I didn't ruin things by asking you out," he said, walking with her to the leg press machine.

  "No, it's fine."

  "Because your friendship is important to me."

  Alex lowered herself into the leg press
machine. She released the lock and pushed the unweighted footplate up and down a few times, warming up. Brad added forty pounds. More warm-ups and Brad, heartless hipster that he could sometimes be, added another forty pounds. Alex grunted out a few more reps. Soon, her legs felt like jelly on a warm afternoon.

  "What if I were one of those 'bad boys'?" he asked. "I find it hard to believe they would be your type."

  I am a bad boy. Alex smiled drolly.

  "You mean the kind of macho, cocky dude girls claim to hate but secretly lust after?" she asked.

  "I contest that they truly lust after them. I'd say it's more they think they do – until they learn the truth."

  "That they're selfish pieces of shit?"

  Brad smiled. "Right."

  "I wasn't talking about the 'bad boys.'"

  Brad's smile collapsed.

  "Oh – you meant the girls, realizing how terrible the sexy hunks are and that what they really want is a great guy? Someone who understands them? Who listens to them? Who's not afraid to be weak and show his emotions?"

  "Who'll treat them with respect and not cheat on them," said Brad, nodding.

  Alex huffed out a few more reps before lowering the footplate with a hard clank.

  "In other words, a nice, safe guy," she said.

  His smile, starting to revive, withered again. "You're saying it's boring to be nice?"

  He caught her arm as she hobbled to her feet and steered her toward the sit-up board. She hooked her legs and performed a few half-motions before pausing for breath.

  "Depends how you 'parse' nice." She did a few complete sit-ups and caught her breath.

  "I can't believe any woman doesn't want to be treated respectfully," he grated. "Not any sane woman, anyway."

  "So if you believe you understand women, you know what they want, why are you talking to me about it?"