The Goddess Quest

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "I don't know. I'd like to think not in PUSA. But you start bringing in more powerful avatars..." Alex shook her head. "President Ventura said he hoped there would be no threats that would give the government an excuse to become 'bigger and badder.' That what I would be" – Alex frowned – "or would've been: one big fucking threat."

  Wendell Martin cupped his chin and gazed at her unblinkingly. Alex felt like a rare insect under the magnifying lens of a botanist. She wondered idly how he felt about the f-bomb.

  "Interesting," he said.

  Time passed. Wendell Martin's gaze grew distant, gradually focusing on something on the wall behind her, and then beyond that wall. He gave the impression, as he often did, that time had become of minor interest to him, that he'd be content sitting there in La-La land for hours, if not days.

  "I find it interesting that you made a couple of stages about finding a killer," said Alex. "A killer who might be plying her trade in the Real."

  Wendell Martin's eyes refocused on her. "Why do you suspect that?"

  Alex made herself meet his unblinking gaze. "Don't you suspect that? That's why you involved her in the contest, right?"

  "Whatever we learn from the Verse about individuals in our world cannot be divulged. We regard that rule as sacrosanct, as you know – what happens in the Verse, stays in the Verse – and everyone who works for us must abide by it. As I'm sure you also know, there have been a few lawsuits over the years, and a couple of court cases involving this government, all unsuccessfully challenging our privacy policies."

  "Yet you divulged this person to me."

  "We divulged, via clues, certain information about someone's actions within the Omniverse. That is within our rules. Nor do our rules prevent players from extrapolating from their experiences in the Verse to actors or events in our world. However, I would advise extreme caution in pursuing those extrapolations, particularly with possibly dangerous individuals."

  Professor Martin spoke without any special emphasis in his voice or face, as if discussing the time of day, but Alex took it as a personal warning.

  "If you knew someone was killing people in the Real, you wouldn't tip the police?"

  "Based on information gained in the Omniverse? Absolutely not." He folded his hands on the table and then did meet her gaze with special emphasis. "Ms. Mills, one of the things we all agreed from the start is that under no circumstances would we become spies for government agencies as the other MMOs have become. Whatever information we collect is for Verse operations, period. No exceptions. As you know, we fought the US Government on that point right up to the Supreme Court and won."

  "Barely. A 5-4 decision. What if you'd lost? Would you really have terminated Oink rather than cooperate, as Glenn Willers and Brian Thompson promised?"

  "Without hesitation. Though with great regret."

  Alex remembered unfondly how her heart had been in her throat in the final weeks and days of the case The United States Government V. Omniverse Corps. and Affiliates. She hadn't doubted the Founders' resolve, and that had scared her shitless. She hadn't been alone. Yet at the time, especially as a child, that hadn't been easy to see, since Google, Yahoo, Facebook, Twitter, and Amazon, in concert with the Justice Department and most of mainstream media, had conducted a massive campaign to smear OVC as unpatriotic and even subversive in refusing to turn over information about alleged terrorists.

  At the time, it had looked like a slam-dunk for the powerful forces opposing OVC, but all the chest-thumping politicians and the cut-throat editorials by the mainstream news and dominant search engines had only camouflaged the public's overwhelming approval for Omniverse's positions. That became obvious when millions of geeks took to the streets and online to protest, write scathing rebuttals, and, increasingly, target the "Big Evil Five" (Google, Yahoo, Facebook, Twitter, and Amazon) with what came to be known as "Omni-attacks" – utilizing malware, Denial of Service, and even physical sabotage to express their displeasure.

  The "Big Evil Five" softened their position and so did the hacks on mainstream news. Whether or not that had any influence on "SCOTUS's" decision, it finally did rule in favor of Omniverse's right to withhold data collected in their virtual worlds. And Alex was able to resume breathing.

  "For what it's worth, I think you were right to do what you did," she said.

  "Thank you. It was never a question for us."

  "I've been wondering something else. About the sims. Is it my imagination, or have they suddenly become much more human?"

  "That's subjective, of course, but it seems to be a common observation."

  Alex hadn't had time to check her usual Verse blogs, but found that reassuring. She'd begun wondering if it was an extreme case of wishful thinking.

  "Do you think the enhanced feedback you enabled for this contest has something to do with that?"

  "That's certainly one theory. One I'm inclined to hold myself. Another theory is the continuing evolution of AlphaOmega. Perhaps the new feedback programming affected AO. Or some combination thereof. We're looking into it and may know more shortly."

  Martin had rarely demonstrated any distinct emotion – at least that Alex could see – but she thought she spotted a glimmer of excitement in his sleepy blue eyes.

  "Is that what you wanted to talk about – why I didn't drink the 'Ambrosia'?" she asked.

  "We were certainly curious about that, though you've confirmed what I and a few others suspected." He folded his hands into steeples and turned his full attention on her. "May I ask if you are at peace with your decision to no longer pursue the Goddess Quest? Your decision to not drink did not affect your eligibility or end the contest, as I'm sure you know."

  "I do know." Alex cleared her throat. "And I am 'at peace.'"

  "You're willing to surrender the fifteen million Verse dollars and all the powers awarded to the winner?"

  "Yes."

  "Final answer?" Martin offered her the smallest of smiles.

  Alex took a deep breath. Am I a complete idiot? "Final answer."

  Wendell Martin relaxed back into his chair. His hands came apart and rested on the arms of his chair. He was smiling. Not at her, but at a space a foot or two to her left, as if she were casting a reflection or ghostly aura there.

  "Then it's done," he said. "The quest is ended."

  "This phase of the quest?"

  "No. The entire quest. We calculated the odds of anyone creating 'Sweet Hemlock' beside you as astronomically low. And after some discussion, we all agreed that you had in fact solved Stage 5, but had simply refused to accept its rewards. None of us predicted that, but on second thought, it doesn't seem terribly surprising."

  "Really?" Alex gave him a skeptical smile. "You're crediting me with solving Stage 5? Does that mean you're going to grant me the awards even though I turned them down?"

  "Not the power awards, no. We take your point there."

  Alex sat up a bit straighter. "The money? You're saying you're going to pay me the fifteen MOD?"

  "No," said her professor. "We've decided to award you seventy-five million – in Omniverse Dollars so that you can defer and reduce your tax burden. In addition to the money you've already won in the quest, of course."

  Alex felt the floor fall away from her feet, watched the walls retreat, and was floating in the midst of a lily-speckled field with bluebirds tweeting or whistling or whatever the hell bluebirds did.

  Her vision collapsed, and she was staring into Wendell Martin's pale blue eyes. Martin was smiling, truly smiling – enough to show his strangely sharp canines. She could see why he didn't do that too often.

  "You're not fucking with me?"

  "That would be rather unseemly for a senior staff member."

  "Wow." Alex touched her forehead. Maybe just a tad feverish, but not hot enough to forge delusions. "I'm having some trouble absorbing this. But thank you."

  "You're welcome. We all thought you'd deserve it. It's not often someone turns down a ring of power. Also, you played
the game superbly, despite a few speed bumps here and there."

  "How much have you seen?"

  "The highlights." He added, in the tone of an afterthought, "Since you were nine and won the Emerald Challenge. The youngest ever to win a Class A game. A feat I believe has only been duplicated six or seven times since."

  A severe case of goosebumps broke out on Alex's forearms.

  "We've been watching you for a long time, Alex," said Professor Martin. "We had high expectations of you. I believe I can speak for my fellows when I say that today you exceeded them."

  "ALL RIGHT," said Brandon as they drove away from the computer science building. "What did Professor Martin say that turned you into a speechless zombie?"

  Alex had walked out of Wendell Martin's office in a zombie-esque daze, a part of her soaring through the heavens, another part questioning the existence of those heavens. Had she truly gotten to have her cake and eat it, too? Seventy-five MOD richer while not having to desecrate her favorite world?

  "I had my reasons." She turned to smile at her best friend. "Seventy-five million reasons."

  "Seventy-five million...?"

  "I got seventy-five million reasons, seventy-five million reasons," she sang. If Lady Gaga were in a grave, Alex thought, she'd be furiously spinning.

  Brandon stared at her. Alex gave him a shit-eating grin.

  "Are you saying...they paid you seventy-five million dollars...?"

  "Seventy-five MOD. Yes."

  "Holy fuck." He rubbed the top of his head. "But why? You didn't even finish the contest!"

  "Still, they decided to give me credit for solving the final stage, and even increased the money award, apparently because they were impressed when I turned down the godlike powers."

  "Wow. That's..." Bran made a hand-tossing gesture that had Alex worrying about his control of the van. "Insane."

  "Yet somehow typical. For these guys, anyway."

  They rolled into the UC Rec Center parking lot, occupying a handicapped space near the front doors. They both recognized Brad's ancient green Honda a couple of spots down. Brandon scowled at the rumpled vehicle. Alex was struck by the contrast between Bran's 65K van and Brad's thousand-dollar ride and the divide between them that symbolized. A divide that had just grown vastly greater in her case.

  Despite their complaints, she and Brandon had well-to-do if not wealthy parents who'd provided a free ride through college and pretty much everything else. Brad's divorced blue-collar parents barely had a dime to their name. He scrambled to pay for his schooling and living expenses with a small grant and two or three odd jobs.

  Yet Alex understood Brandon's scowl. Brad was rich in one way they could never be: health.

  "The Golden Boy's gonna be shocked," said Bran. "The girl he's hopelessly in love with just became a multi-millionaire."

  "In love? Don't you mean a 'puppy-dog crush'?"

  "You didn't see the way he carried you into the ER that time, or the way he looked at you when you were lying in that hospital bed. Dude's savior complex got out of hand."

  Alex felt a queasy sensation in her chest – made queasier by the small frisson of guilty pleasure that accompanied it.

  "I'm sorry," said Brandon. "I should be offering you congratulations, A. You played one helluva game."

  "Thanks." A sudden tide of anti-climax surprised her. "Though I wouldn't have much to show for it if the Founders hadn't been so generous."

  "If you don't count the several hundred thousand OD you accumulated in-game," he said with a thin smile. "I don't think they were that generous. They were just giving due where it was deserved."

  "Thanks for the sentiment, Bran." Alex hugged herself. "You know, I should be ecstatic right now. Almost seventy-six million OD with my other winnings! But typical me, I can't just let myself enjoy it. To be honest, I wish it wasn't over, Bran. Part of me wishes it would never end."

  "It's just one game, A. There will be others. But yeah, I know what you mean." He massaged the half-frown on his face. "I wasn't there, but sometimes I felt like I was. Part of me didn't want it to end, either."

  "My mom's going to freak when she finds out."

  "I'd like to be there when you tell her."

  "That can be arranged."

  Brandon turned to face her. "So what next, A?"

  "Aside from finally finishing my degree in the fall?" Alex shrugged. "I'm going to figure out how to best handle the money – might even hire a pro to help. I want to make sure my mom's set for life, after I..." She cleared her throat. "First thing, I need to buy a Gen 4 AFIRM. A pair of 'em, actually."

  "A pair?" Hope shone in Brandon's dark brown eyes.

  "Yep. One for me, one for my best friend."

  "I hope to hell you're not talking about Golden Boy."

  "I said best friend, not my favorite puppy dog. And please stop calling him 'Golden Boy.' You have more golden hues in your skin than he does. He's just a working stiff struggling with his modest IQ to get by."

  "Two degrees doesn't sound all that modest. Besides, you just called him a puppy dog. That sounds more insulting than Golden Boy."

  "But more accurate." Alex shrugged. "My point is that he has to work his ass off to accomplish what comes easily to you and me."

  "Speak for yourself. I have to work damn hard in some of my classes."

  "Funny. I just offered you a Gen 4 and you're more interested in being jealous of Brad."

  She watched her friend's hands clench around the steering wheel and listened to him take a deep breath – deep enough to threaten oxygen-deprivation in the confines of the van. Then his head sagged forward in a nod or inner release.

  "True," he said with a soft chuckle. "We should be out celebrating or something. On top of winning all that money, you just beat out some of the best gamers in the world. If your Dionysus was a minor deity before, he'll be a full-fledged god now. You'll be legendary." He paused to frown. "Assuming the Omniverse makes any public announcement of your victory."

  "Good question. I didn't ask Wendell about that."

  Brandon laughed. "You never did give a shit about fame. But news about the Goddess Quest will leak out anyway, at some point. Something that big won't stay secret for long."

  "I imagine you're right. Anyway, why don't you come over later? We'll figure out something to do. After the workout, Brad wants to take me to lunch. Said he had something he wanted to talk about."

  Brandon released a disgusted snort. "I thought you already had that talk."

  "Since I don't know what he wants to talk about, I couldn't say."

  "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then."

  "You're not going to work out?"

  "Nah. I got some shit to do."

  "Okay. Later, then."

  She was halfway out the door when Brandon called after her, "Don't go too hard. Remember what happened last time."

  "I remember."

  Alex entered the Recreation Center feeling oddly deflated. She guessed she wasn't overly materialistic since her abrupt infusion of wealth hadn't immunized her to her friend's clear disaffection. She'd been tempted to reassure him about his worth to her, but fuck that. Bran just needed to grow up and stop with his pointless jealous shit. Accept that they would never be lovers. She liked him too much to do that to him.

  She'd wanted to talk about the evil doctor, but maybe it was best they hadn't. Alex was far from clear what to do, but she planned to do something against her – which Bran of course would argue strenuously against. Checking the real Manson Health Center hadn't produced any hint of anything untoward. But then it figured the doctor wouldn't shit in her own yard. The pattern for sociopaths practicing their perverse arts in the Parallel Worlds was to select locations far removed from where they planned – or were conducting – their operations.

  In the gym, Brad looked so serious and earnest that Alex almost about-faced and walked out. But he strode over to her with a speed she could not hope to outrun.

  "Hi," he said. "It's been a while.
You sure it's okay to do this?"

  "If it isn't I'm sure I can count on you to save my ass again, right?"

  "I'm serious, Alexand – Alex."

  "So am I. Life's too fucking short. I'm losing what little muscle mass I have."

  "Okay. But we'll take it slow. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say." He smiled. "So the contest is finally over, I assume?"

  "Yeah. Finally."

  "It ended up with you still in a jail cell? That's what your mom said when I talked to her earlier. She was a bit fuzzy on the details – said you were meeting with your professor the Omniverse-founder guy this morning."

  "Right. Why don't we talk about it after the workout?"

  Alex felt strangely strong on her first several lifts, as if her body had been rebuilding itself during her 10-day absence from the gym. Even Brad asked if she'd been working out on the sly or partaking of steroids when she pumped out the extra reps.

  "Not unless my AFIRM has some illegal juicing capabilities I don't know about it," she said.

  "It's probably just the rest. Maybe your lucid dreaming fosters growth hormone release. They still don't fully understand the effects of REM-induction."

  "Maybe you should direct a research study of it?"

  Brad's laugh held a hint of regret. "I wish. But something tells me I'm not destined to be a research scientist."

  Alex toyed with saying something upbeat and encouraging but, sadly, she didn't disagree. Brad kept close tabs on her, having her take her pulse, asking how she felt, taking frequent breaks to hydrate at the gym's water cooler. Afterward, Alex felt somewhat awkward luxuriating in her own stank while Brad showered in the men's locker room and emerged as pink and fresh as a fucking rose. But changing clothes and showering was awkward when you were carrying an illegal weapon; doubly illegal when you were on campus. So Brad would just have to put up with her stench. Might just set the right mood if he had something romantic in mind.

  They drove out to a quiet camping area outside town, Brad's Honda rattling and buzzing as though a wasp and a rattlesnake were battling it out somewhere under the hood. Brad announced they were going to have a picnic.