The Goddess Quest

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "A smaller version. Extremely rare find if it's real."

  "Sounds exciting."

  Alex edged toward the barbershop entrance, still hesitant to leave the girl. Tatiya being a scientist added some spice to her horniness. Who could say they weren't sexually attracted to a hot scientist? Alex couldn't.

  "Are you going to be around for a while?" Alex asked. "Maybe I could buy you a drink?"

  "We're here for the night. Couldn't resist the tourist trap." She appeared to be delaying, debating the offer. But then she smiled, her face flushing a little. "I'm not much of a drinker..."

  "How about lunch?"

  "I could eat, definitely."

  "Good. This shouldn’t take too long."

  "Okay. I'll just be wandering around the stores for a while. I'm a sucker for touristy shops."

  She wandered off with a smiling backward glance. Alex entered the barbershop. The barber closed his magazine, offering her a lackluster smile. Thin strands of ink-black hair looked to be pasted or painted across his pale skull. If he stood still enough, he could easily be mistaken him for one of the wax or wood (plaster?) figures scattered throughout the place.

  "What can I do you for, sir?" he asked.

  "I was thinking of a trim. And maybe one of your drinks."

  Alex strolled over to a mini-bar displaying a row of varicolored bottles, each bearing one-word labels: Vigor, Vital, Tart, Rose, Meringue, Charm, and Select. Zoltan's words: "Order the drink of choice."

  "I'll try the Select," she said.

  The barber retrieved a green bottle from a mini-fridge beneath the bar counter. He popped the cap with a bottle opener. Alex took a sip. It tasted like sweetened dishwater.

  Alex looked up from studying the bottle's label. His reflection stared back at him from a mirror over the fridge. A few days' growth of beard added some rough-hewn shadows to her avatar's already hunky face. Her new, cool look was marred only by a hint of blond roots nestled at the base of his brown-dyed hair.

  "Perhaps a shave, sir?" the barber asked.

  "No, thanks. You wouldn't happen to have something to touch up my hair?" She pointed to the roots.

  "I believe so. I am called upon to do custom coloring from time to time. My clientele is diverse."

  "I can imagine."

  While the barber draped a plastic cape over his shoulders and worked up a batch of hair color, Alex finished her drink. She noticed a sticker at the bottom of the bottle. It read REMOVE ME in bold green letters that the green drink had camouflaged. Alex lowered the drink into her lap, eager to be done with her hair and alone with the pop bottle.

  Twenty minutes later, Alex left the barber with a ten-dollar tip and headed directly out of the store, the Select bottle in hand. She didn't spot Tatiya on her way out, but then Alex wasn't making much effort to spot her. There would be plenty of time for sex after she'd become a god.

  Alex had no better idea than to break the bottle to reach its contents, perhaps on a patch of cement somewhere, but a dumpster on the backside of the building presented a no-muss, no-fuss solution. Gripping the bottom of the bottle, she placed its mid-section on the dumpster's steel outer ridge and used its lid like a guillotine to snap the bottle in half.

  The crackling of glass coincided with a soft gasp behind her. Alex turned to see Tatiya standing there looking puzzled and a little concerned.

  "Sorry," she said. "You walked right by me and I followed you out here."

  Alex regarded Tatiya with growing suspicion. Tatiya's wrinkled-brow gaze rested on the jagged edges of the broken bottle.

  "Remind me not to offer you a bottled drink," she said.

  "I was just trying to get to this." The woman stepped back as Alex thrust the jagged glass at her. "The sticker on the bottom."

  "Oh." Tatiya edged forward. "Some kind of prize?"

  "That's what I'm hoping."

  Alex plucked the sticker from the bottom and pried it apart, revealing the message inside.

  In a failed city

  the quest resumed

  Truths deep and gritty

  must be exhumed

  souls aren't pretty

  When they're doomed

  "Man," Alex muttered. "You'd think a trillion-dollar corporation could afford better writers."

  "What does it say?"

  Alex handed the sticker to her. Tatiya's brow wrinkled afresh.

  "It's blank," she said, handing it back.

  "Yes. Only I was meant to see it."

  "Excuse me if I'm a bit confused," said Tatiya.

  Alex favored her with a long, calculating look. She was tempted to brush her off and get on with her quest, but the possibility that Tatiya had entered her life for a reason stalled her. Also, her horniness was resurfacing. Perhaps talking to her for a while could be amusing and get her laid.

  "I'm competing in a game," said Alex. "A nationwide treasure hunt, I guess you could say. That was a clue."

  "Like the Amazing Race?"

  "More like the Rat Race."

  "Ha. I loved that movie. So what happened to the message? Did it self-destruct or something?"

  "Apparently."

  Tatiya squinted at him. Alex smiled at her.

  "I'm a sucker for mysteries," said Tatiya. "That's why I became a scientist. If your offer still holds, why don't you tell me more about this game of yours over lunch?"

  "Okay," said Alex. "But I'm not sure how much more I can tell you about the game. At least not much more you'd believe."

  Tatiya followed her to her bike. She touched the leather seat as if it were a rare and exotic relic.

  "Ever ridden on a bike?" Alex asked.

  "No. But I've always been curious about motorcycles."

  "And bikers?"

  She smiled and lowered her eyes, a shard of blush along her jaw giving her away. Alex guessed that cute scientist nursed a fantasy or two about the boys in dusky leather. Or so her program dictated.

  "Any suggestions for a place to eat?" Alex asked.

  "I've heard the UnOK Corral is good. It's just around the corner."

  Alex started up Rick's Harley. She was grateful for a smooth launch from her parking spot and no other embarrassing or possibly injurious mistakes on the short drive to the UnOK Corral.

  They occupied an outside table under a canopy on one side of the restaurant. They both ordered beers and bison burgers. The beers arrived shortly in frosty 32-ounce steins. Alex's AFIRM labored mightily to create an alcohol-buzz after a few sips.

  "So about this contest of yours," said Tatiya. "What is it about? How does it work?"

  Alex considered making up some bullshit story. But the real story sounds totally like bullshit. Alex smiled. Why not tell her? Not as if she'd take her seriously.

  "It consists of a series of what are called 'discovery stages,'" said Alex. "You follow clues to a certain location and then solve the puzzle there. When you solve it you're awarded money and possibly extra physical powers and offered clues for the next stage. Each stage gets you closer to the final puzzle."

  Alex took a long drink while Tatiya wore a puzzled frown.

  "Did you say 'extra physical powers'?"

  "I did."

  "I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean."

  "Have you ever done any gaming?"

  "Not really."

  "But you understand the basic idea? You gain powers or money as you advance by overcoming an opponent or completing a task or solving a puzzle?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, it's like that."

  "Yes, but those are fantasy games. How would that work in real life?"

  "Maybe what you call 'fantasy' actually is real life?"

  Tatiya laughed, but with a note of uncertainty. "I don't think so."

  "Don't people here in real life have extra powers? The augments?"

  "Right. But they didn't get those powers from a game. They're mutations generated by a nuclear plant meltdown."

  "That's one theory."

  Alex finished h
er burger and smiled at Tatiya over her beer stein. She felt as if she'd discovered a new sport: sim-baiting. It was kind of fun to mess with their little minds, to see the Gamemasters' programming wrestle with notions of a world outside their narrow digital reality. Like someone trapped in two dimensions trying to wrap their heads around what a three-dimensional being was saying.

  "What's your theory?" Tatiya asked.

  "That people have powers because they're programmed to have them."

  "Programmed? You mean, genetically determined?"

  "If you consider zeroes and ones to be genes."

  Tatiya regarded him with a cocked head, half-smiling.

  "And who does the programming? God?"

  "They might think of themselves that way," said Alex. "But no, they're just a bunch of fucking nerds for the most part."

  "A bunch of nerds created this world?"

  "Pretty much. Well, and a few really smart people."

  "We're all living in a simulated reality – that's what you're saying?"

  "You are all living in a simulated reality. I live outside it."

  "How? Why?"

  "Just lucky, I guess."

  Alex grinned. Tatiya was cocking her head at him sharply enough that her head appeared in danger of twisting off her thin neck. Waiting for the punch line. Alex raised his beer to her in sardonic salute.

  "So this contest you're supposedly in," she said. "What's the prize if you win?"

  "God-like powers." Alex shrugged. "A lot of money."

  Tatiya stared at him, her half-smile dimming along with the interest in her eyes. Writing me off as a nutcase, Alex thought. Guess I won't be getting laid, after all.

  "I told you you wouldn't believe me," he said.

  "So, just to be clear. You are being serious?"

  "I am."

  "All right." She dabbed her face with a napkin. "I should be getting back to work."

  "Can I give you a ride?"

  "No, thanks. It's a short walk." She stood. "Good luck with your quest."

  "Good luck with your dinos."

  Tatiya stalked off, her face set in the predictable scowl. Alex watched her backside with a mixture of appreciation and contempt. Appreciation for the beauty of the characterization, contempt for the all-too real depiction of human stupidity. God, people were so smug and satisfied with their fake truths. Even digital people, it seemed.

  ALEX RENTED a motel room just outside Wall and checked back into the Real. She stretched and performed half-assed yoga moves on her bedroom floor while cross-referencing searches for "failed cities" and "lost souls" on her laptop. One city – Soul City, North Carolina – appeared to fit the bill: a town forged by the ideals of a young African-American man.

  The chronicle of Soul City started out substantially the same in both the Real and PUSA, but the story diverged sharply with a series of murders and corruption scandals in Parallel Soul City – as opposed to collapsing gradually under the weight of lawsuits involving a HUD grant in the Real.

  Interestingly, three unsolved murders and two disappearances had occurred in the neighboring and ominously named Parallel city of Manson during the last five years.

  Alex left her bedroom and jogged in slow circles around the backyard. Her mom was at work, Brandon at school, and Brad...she wasn't even sure why she wondered where he was or what he was doing. Something had changed in her attitude toward him – a subtle shift in her emotions – since he'd carried her out of the gym and into the ER. Something she was not comfortable examining too closely.

  Her thoughts turned to Tatiya, the paleontologist – alleged paleontologist, she corrected herself – and her possible significance. Alex couldn't stop feeling she'd missed something. Every substantial encounter she'd had with a sim so far had led to further developments. That was how things worked during a game in the Parallel Worlds. On the other hand, perhaps the Gamemasters had begun introducing events and people purely as distractions.

  Whatever. Now it was on to Soul City, North Carolina. It was far from clear what awaited her there. Presumably something to do with "buried gritty truths" that needed "exhuming."

  Her cell started beeping. Not a incoming text or call; her remote AFIRM warning. Dionysus, whom she'd left napping in her motel room, was experiencing an emergency.

  Alex focused on staying calm as she jogged inside. The AFIRM was bathing her room in flashing red lights, of course. She stripped and as a last-second precaution strapped on her pee-cup. She had a bad feeling about this. With her new programming, her avatar wouldn't summon her because of a mere knock by a maid or motel employee on the door. This had to be something more.

  Chapter 13

  THE TRANSITION FROM THE Real into the Verse in an emergency summons was always nerve-racking. REM induction, much like hypnosis, required complete relaxation and surrender. But once she "surrendered," which she'd conditioned herself to do nearly on command, an intermediate twilight period allowed her natural uptightness to resurface. Finally, came the moment when her consciousness occupied her hunky avatar and dream imagery solidified into reality.

  In this case, the reality solidified into Black-suited figures pointing odd, blocky-looking rifles and big black pistols at her while surrounding her motel bed. Her avatar's memory jerked her up to speed: the motel door bursting in, black figures shouting, "DARE! Resist and you will be shot!"

  The legendary Department of Augmented Regulation and Enforcement. Never in a thousand years did she imagine facing this shadowy government organization. Under no circumstances could this be less than disastrous.

  Alex raised her hands. "What's wrong – "

  "Lay down on the floor!" one of them boomed. "Place your hands behind your back!"

  "Don't you mean lie down on the floor?"

  One of the rifles popped. Two mini-missiles trailing black wire launched and struck Alex's chest. She could see her arms and legs flailing while her AFIRM labored to process the assault.

  "Mute pain," Alex quickly subvocalized.

  They wrestled her onto the floor. When she attempted to resist, she realized that despite her enhanced strength she'd lost control of her body. They removed her waist and ankle pistols and wrenched her arms around her back, snapping handcuffs on her wrists and – surprisingly – her ankles. They yanked her to her feet and dragged her backward out the door into the parking lot.

  Stunned, Alex's muddled thoughts struggling to catch up. How had they found her? What did they want from her? Did they know who she was?

  They escorted her toward a grey, SWAT-type armored vehicle with dark sun-screened windows and a small dome sprouting a variety of antennae on top.

  "What the hell is going on?" Alex demanded, force-feeding outrage into her voice. "What are you arresting me for?"

  "We'll talk more at the station," said a female voice. A familiar female voice.

  Alex checked out the speaker: smaller, shorter, with hints of curves beneath the uniform. Ah. It didn't make sense, exactly, but the pieces of this puzzle were now in sight. Tatiya. Little Ms. Innocent Paleontologist.

  Two DARE agents swung the truck's doors open. Alex glanced down at her handcuffs. Definitely sturdier than the usual, with odd-looking compartments on their sides.

  "They're filled with tranquilizer darts," said the presumed Tatiya. "A remotely controlled explosive charge would drive them into your skin." She held up a cell phone-sized black box. "That's the remote. I'd recommend you don't make me use it. The tranquilizer is strong enough to take down a grizzly."

  Alex stared into the dark visor covering her face. "I liked you better as a paleontologist."

  They shoved Alex into the armored vehicle and chained her to a steel-plated seat with two additional cuffs. Tatiya and two other agents took a seat at the far end of the transport room, separated from the cab by a steel wall with a small window slat.

  "Do you have an arrest and search warrant?" Alex asked. "Or does DARE operate completely outside the law?"

  "We have both," said one
of the male agents. "You'll see them when we get where we're going."

  "And where is that?"

  "Processing and Detention Facility. Should be about thirty minutes."

  Alex sagged back in her seat with a mournful sigh. This could be the game. Her first arrest. She strained for her usual wiseass perspective, but it all felt so real, so oppressively dystopian.

  "You actually took that story I was telling you seriously?" Alex asked, looking to the female agent.

  "It's a story I've heard before, Alex. We all have."

  Alex. The jig – at least, part of it – was up, then. The authorities officially wanted Alex "Milner" for questioning, but as far as she knew, hadn't issued an arrest warrant. Not a public police arrest warrant, anyway. She'd read that DARE operated under different, more secretive rules. So secretive that little information was available about it even in the real world. Alex had wondered about that once or twice, but it wasn't terribly unusual for the GM to play cloak and dagger with the Verse – keep some parts of it shrouded in mystery. Part of the fun, after all, was figuring out how things worked in the Omniverse while inside it. If you could simply print up a How-to manual in the Real, where was the challenge? But this particular challenge was not shaping up to be fun.

  She saw three options: 1) escape; 2) talk her way out of this; 3) stoically endure the eleven days remaining in the special contest in custody. Not much endurance required, since her avatar would bravely serve the time while she'd be free to nurse her bitterness and continue her quest research, hoping none of her competitors claimed the Goddess prize before the contest opened to the public. Maybe it was just ego, but Alex was skeptical that if she failed anyone else could succeed. This game was a complete ball-buster, even for someone who lacked balls.

  "Why did you call me 'Alex'?" she asked

  "Fingerprints on the beer stein confirmed your identity," Tatiya replied. "Local police discovered the body of Rick Drager two days ago. The nature of his injuries triggered an 'anomaly report.' We tracked his cell to you."

  Alex performed a mental Homer Simpson slap to her forehead. She'd kept the cell because she assumed his body wouldn't be found for days if ever. Dumb.