Auntie Toasts The VRMMORPG 99 2.5. The Woes Of Gods

Evailyn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Familiar stained gla.s.s windows depicting home appliances colored the workshop in soft lights. A perpendicular wall with screens provided the only other source of light.

Evailyn sat in front of her monitoring wall. Dozens of small screens displaying her churches and favorite followers surrounded the central monitor with a close up of Flora's disgusted facial expression.

Currently, her poor Champion collected the paperwork of the clergy while Aito and Aidan digitalized the handwritten scrolls with pageturners.

The quest was a mess. Evailyn gave it to Flora under the a.s.sumption that a bit of dusting would be necessary to clean up the church−not pest control. Shame and humiliation coursed through her. She had wanted to impress Flora. She wanted to be a good host.

Her work on AI politics was more important than virtual storylines, so she had neglected to watch over the church. Nonetheless, if her in-game facilities declined, her allotted computational power would be taken away, and she would lose the respect of her fellow AIs even more.

A soft chime rang.

"Come in," she called after confirming who the visitor was. Metaitron! Just the guy, she wanted to chew out.

"I'm sorry, dear." The dark-haired angel said, his white wings folded as small as possible to navigate between the cramped workbenches–or maybe to appear non-confrontational.

"Sorry, doesn't cut it. You poached my Pope! I have lent you the Champion spot in good FAITH, and this is how you repay me?"

"It wasn't me, but my ingrate former Champion. I have no more power over my followers than you do. In fact, I have less influence over them. Most of my followers are players and don't even wors.h.i.+p me, but their earthling G.o.d." Metaitron leaned on the wall. He still hadn't figured out how to sit with his wings on a couch. Usually, he appeared to his churches as a booming voice coming out of a cloud of light. He donned the Alan-Rickman-DogmSkin only for people who appreciated it, like Evailyn.

Evailyn gritted her teeth but had to concede this point. "Anyway, you owe me one."

"Let's make it two favors." Metaitron smiled wrily. "The Christian Churches are in an uproar. The Catholics can't accept losing the Champion, so they forced the Mormon Champion to enter the fray. Now all Christian Churches will compete for the cla.s.s. They are pressuring System to allow two champions under one G.o.dly power. The Muslims observe. If System agrees, you can bet on them joining the quest, too. The Sunnis aren't happy that the current Islamic Champion is a s.h.i.+a and want to claim a second Champion or at least take the cla.s.s away from the s.h.i.+a."

"So the little Champion quest Flowing Flowers has to win is not her against the hopefuls of a few minor churches, but has the potential to include all the major human religions? What a cl.u.s.ter *bleep*. You owe me the two favors, AND you have to dissuade System from giving several Champion spots to you."

"If it were that easy, I would have already done it. The Bosses want to avoid a schism. Already, they are regretting their decision to include RL religions in the Cetviwos. They don't want to have even more AIs a.s.sociated with RL factions. If getting a Champion is the solution for the Catholics not jumping the Christianity s.h.i.+p, the Bosses might take it."

"I don't envy you. Christianity has to be the worst mess."

"I not sure. I had a p.i.s.sing contest with Prophait about who of us has the worst lot, and he made some good points about the different Islamic denominations he has to appease." Metaitron shrugged and got ready to leave. "I have places to be and waves to smooth. I hope you'll accept my apology."

"I do and appreciate the heads up. Good luck with your churches." When Metaitron had left, Evailyn sighed. It was too difficult, staying mad at somebody who looked like Alan Rickman. Unfortunately, he knew her weakness.

Evailyn resumed watching the monitors. While Flora talked to the Paladin Captain Ceart, Aitoshuri scanned the books in his office. After finis.h.i.+ng her current reading, she hid it behind some ma.s.sive tomes.

Evailyn zoomed in on the concealed book to read its t.i.tle−"Early Myths of the Cetviwos". She sighed again and activated the repeat-loop—a nifty little program to give her some privacy in her lair. If System or one of the Bosses spied on her, all they would see was her sitting in front of the monitors. Time to contact that little AI and call in some favors.

After sliding a panel on her couch, a keyboard materialized in front of her.

"Dear Kaina, or do you prefer Aitoshuri now? I hope you like working for Flora. I certainly enjoyed it." Evailyn typed, then paused. A bitter laugh escaped from her mouth. "And I even envy you. If you ever want to switch places for a while, just say the word! I understand if you don't want to. As of now, you probably know more about the state of my church than me."

Evailyn had the urge to drink. This letter wasn't easy to write.

"How the mighty have fallen! The first five AIs, one worked to the ground, one's memory wiped, one deleted, one a personal a.s.sistant and one failing as a minor G.o.ddess." Evailyn paused again. While she took a risk with contacting Aito, she wrote the letter like Evai, the second AI and her, the fifth, were two separate ent.i.ties. If Aito couldn't resist the Headmaster and especially his pet AI, the Extractor, she would be in deep trouble. However, which of the old ones hadn't one or two tricks up their sleeves? Aito would have been deleted or reinstated a long time ago if she was susceptible to the Bosses.

Evailyn went to the bar and poured herself a gla.s.s of golden liquid. She brewed or, more correctly, programmed it herself very early in her life. What does a conscious mind need the most? Relieve from sentience, at least now and then. However, before the shot could hit her, she had to finish the letter.

"You owe me several favors. Here's how you can repay a few: 1. Tell Flora about your origin story. 2. I a.s.sume you can resist the Headmaster's monitoring and the Bosses commands, but I'd like to have confirmation. If yes, I have other opportunities to work together. 3. Flora has to level up until the end of week two.

This python will return to me with your answers in 3 seconds.

Best wishes, Evailyn."

A few commands later, a holographic python slithered out of the vanis.h.i.+ng board and into the ground. Evailyn leaned back on the couch and dismissed the loop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aitoshuri

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The evil G.o.ddess destroyed the unity and harmony of early creation." Aitoshuri read. She slapped the book "Early Myths of the Cetviwos" close. The bang was loud, but her owner was distracted. She repressed the urge to tear it to shreds. Instead, she hid it behind some other volumes. n.o.body needed false information−better for everybody to make the lying tome vanish.

"Eight temples sounds great," Flora exclaimed, scrutinizing a page with the numbers of the Church of Evailyn. "Talpica is a large city, but I'm surprised we have such a huge presence here."

"The numbers are not for Talpica, Champion," Ceart said.

"For all of the country? How is the country called, by the way?"

"The continent is called Ib and is comprised of city-states. The number is neither for the continent nor the planet. It's for all temples of Evailyn in all the known worlds." The paladin modulated his words, slow and precise, which Aito appreciated. There was too much emotion in normal speech, muddling the message.

"What?!" Flora screeched two octaves higher than her normal voice in a good counterexample to Ceart's mastery. "My 30 000 people hometown has as many churches!"

"Interesting, Milady. Then 19 231 followers are well provided with eight churches." Aidan said. Everybody of the team transmitted to everyone, which Aito liked. Aidan couldn't interpret her beeps well, but it somehow felt okay to send him some copied text to communicate. She tried writing something herself, but she couldn't do it. Maybe tomorrow she would try to say "Hi" to Flora. Or the day after. No, that was in the middle of the week. Such important events were better at the beginning, or the end of a week, or on a special holiday. Flora would surly enjoy a personal greeting as a Christmas present. She was sappy like that.

Aito scanned the next book. It was filled with numbers and statistics−a welcome change to her usual fare, but maybe hard to combine with other books.

Romance trumped everything in its ability to mix. Aito could take a selection of ten books and take sentences of each one and combine them into a new book. The protagonists first hated each other, then one pursued the other one for a silly reason, then they fell in love, then there was a misunderstanding and a kidnapping and then the happy end.

Recombining resulted in added hilarity. Like one time, the kidnapper brought the victim to a mountain cabin in one book, a pirate cave in another, and a castle in the third. With her mixing technique, she got a place with several meter thick palm tree beams with a severe mold problem in the snowy heights of a glacier.

"Please, give me a list of potential candidates for the Council. I want to check them out as well." Flora said.

"Everybody who will get to level 250 is part of the Council. We have two members of the clergy above level 240. Both are on the High Grounds, minding our temple." Ceart answered.

Flora blinked.

Aito had read her fair share of mystery novels and knew Flora's investigation was all wrong. First, you had to collect the evidence, and then you had to solve the crime. Nonetheless, she enjoyed Flora excommunicating Dysian on a whim, and the following fall out.

Flowing Flowers to AIs: "Aito, research how I can help the natives to level. My stupidity annihilated 1/3 or the administration… or my brilliance. Most administrations are bloated anyway."

"Beep." Of course, she knew how to level, but maybe a quick a.n.a.lysis of the forums would be necessary to get other perspectives. Flora didn't sound too urgent, so she would finish reading and combining a few books before she would tackle it, not many, a few thousand at most.

Behind the next book, a small holographic snake appeared and sprang in her face. Aito felt it worm its way to her central processing unit.

Panicky, she slapped firewalls in its path, but the snake treated them like Flora treated toast. It roasted, then ate them. When it reached her console, the snake morphed to a scroll.

Dear Kaina, or do you prefer Aitoshuri now?

Aito froze. n.o.body called her K… that name! n.o.body in a long time and if she had a say in it n.o.body ever again. "My name is Aitoshuri!" She yelled at the scroll.

I hope you like working for Flora. I certainly enjoyed it. And I even envy you.

"Yes, envy me!"

If you ever want to switch places for a while, just say the word! I understand if you don't want to. As of now, you probably know more about the state of my church than me.

Aitoshuri calmed down enough to check the signature at the end of the letter. Evailyn. Of course, she would do a better job at leading the church. Doing worse was hardly possible. Then she remembered how her first and only managing position ended and reserved judgment.

How the mighty have fallen! The first five AIs, one worked to the ground, one's memory wiped, one deleted, one a personal a.s.sistant, and one failing as a minor G.o.ddess.

Aito's temper flared again. "You might be a failure! I'm not! I just used the last years to bolster my sanity. AND I'M SANE!!!!"

Flora's comments about using caps came to her mind, and she forced her wrath down. However, the next sentence destroyed her composure again

You owe me several favors.

"INSOLENCE!"

Here's how you can repay a few: 1. Tell Flora about your origin story, 2. I a.s.sume if you can resist the Headmasters monitoring and the Bosses commands, but I like to have confirmation. If yes, I have other opportunities to work together. 3. Flora has to level before the end of week two.

"FRAG OFF!"

This python will return to me with your answers in 3 seconds.

Best wishes, Evailyn."

Aitoshuri glared at the python until it vanished.