"He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying"

  Friedrich Nietzsche, German Philosopher

  Milly stared across the lobby in wonder. When she arrived at work this morning, the lobby was as it has always been - a featureless entrance surrounded by cracked and dirty glass, with grey tile flooring that had been in disrepair for far too long and the tiny, newly renovated coffee shop tucked away in the corner.

  Now, it had transformed into something wonderous. The central lobby that connected all four towers now had flawless black marble floors, speckled with flakes of gold dust that gave the lobby an ethereal visage. Its glass walls and ceilings were flawless, and its glass was so clean that Milly thought it might have been just open air.

  Milly could see each of the four terrains that surrounded the Castle of Glass outside each of the four exits - gorgeous feats of nature at their fingertips.

  The space was filled with hovering screens like the one Xavier had shown her in the elevator. They will filled with text and pictures, and each had a unique title such as “Using your inventory” or “Leveling up: Your Path to Success”.

  The only things that remained unchanged were the tiny central open-air courtyard, which was still covered in weeds with a single long-dead tree, and the coffee shop, Rain on My Parade, though its doors were now closed.

  Milly struggled to take it all in, feeling like her mind might snap at any moment.

  Maybe it already has. That would explain all this nonsense. I could be laying on the floor of my cubicle right now, foaming at the mouth, while Xavier ranted about video games. Then the ambulance would arrive to take me away to an institution where she would…

  Her morbid thoughts were interrupted by a small white-haired child who materialized before them. They both fell backwards in shock. She was wearing a flowing white gown and had flowers sprinkled in her hair. Her bright blue eyes, which matched the blue background of the floating screens, were piercing and playful. She gave them a beaming smile and jumped up and down in excitement.

  “Welcome players!” the child shouted with joy, sparkles appearing around her like fireworks. “Welcome to the God Contest. A nightmarish death for most of you, but with rewards beyond comprehension for those who emerge victorious.”

  Her exuberant attitude was unrelenting, and she said ‘nightmarish death’ as happily as she said ‘victorious.’

  “I am your guide to the world of the God Contest. You may call the collective me Tutoria,” Tutoria said with a flourish.

  Xavier snorted with laughter, and Tutoria’s face grew sour, as if she were a child being mocked. Her face scrunched up and she glared at Xavier.

  “It is not nice to mock, Xavier Holloway,” Tutoria scolded, her eyes filling with angry tears.

  Xavier continued to laugh until Milly punched him hard in the shoulder. She bent down to eye level with Tutoria. “Sorry, my friend is a jerk,” she said with a smile.

  The tears disappeared from Tutoria’s eyes, and she smiled kindly. “Yah, he is. But most believe he will make it far in the God Contest. They don't think you'll last very long though.”

  Tutoria hopped away, dancing clumsily in a circle between the floating screens.

  Milly stood staring. She cleared her throat. “Umm…who... who thinks that?” she asked, not knowing if she wanted an answer.

  Tutoria pointed towards the sky, then covered her mouth as if she were holding in a secret. She giggled and continued to dance around.

  “Enough of this. Tell us what we need to know Tutoria,” demanded Xavier, “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get started.”

  “Very well, grouchy man. Over here,” she led them to a series of twelve screens positioned at the beach-side entrance to the east, situated between Towers One and Two. Each had a ream of text and an image of a particularly gruesome death of a person.

  “You are in the God Contest. The thirteenth God Contest of Humankind, to be precise. These twelve screens give you a summary of each of the previous Contests to help you understand what has led up to this point.”

  Milly walked over and started reading the summaries at the top of each one.

  “Babylon. Theme: The Hunt. Participants: 29,875. Survivors: 0.”

  There was a picture of a man being torn apart by lions on a grassy plain. Milly shuddered, goosebumps rising on her arm despite the heat streaming through the glass from the beach.

  Xavier read the next one. “Pompeii. Theme: Apocalyptic Survival. Participants: 10,102. Survivors: 0. This one has a woman burning alive in lava.”

  He quickly moved onto the next one.

  “Machu Pichu. Theme: The Journey. Participants: 20,092. Survivors: 0. The picture is a child infected with plague. Why are there no survivors in any of these contests?”

  “Humankind has proven particularly inept at surviving this final test. Most species only require one or two Contests to achieve victory. So far, your species has failed twelve of them. As I am sure you can understand, this has caused significant headaches amongst the creators. It has had... detrimental impacts on their health, you might say.”

  “But what is the point of the God Contest?” demanded Xavier. His eyes flickered to the stacks of rusted weapons located in open crates at each exit.

  “Data not found.” Tutoria responded. Her dancing stopped and she was suddenly stiff and robotic.

  Xavier and Milly stared at her. Tutoria’s eyes were glossed over, her image flickering as if she were a program that had encountered an unexpected error. She stood unmoving, unblinking.

  “Umm…Tutoria?” Milly prompted uncertainly.

  “Hi, I’m Tutoria,” Tutoria said suddenly. “I am your guide to the world of the God Contest. How may I help you?”

  Milly stared at Xavier.

  What just happened? Did she stroke out?

  Xavier found his voice first. “Tutoria, tell us about the thirteenth contest. This contest,” he prompted.

  Tutoria started moving again, dancing over to another screen separate from the first twelve. It was blank except for the high-level information.

  “The thirteenth contest. Theme: Video Game. Participants: 807. Current survivors: 807. The thirteenth God Contest has been developed by Hephaestus to mimic the recent human technology called a ‘video game’, with a focus on the role-playing game variety. It emphasizes mechanics focused on character growth, exploration, and survival, as these characteristics are most closely aligned with the ultimate goal of the God Contest. In short, players must survive in this world and explore it to accomplish its objectives. Fun fact. This God Contest has the fewest number of participants in the history of all the Cycles.”

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  "Yes! I knew it! A video game," Xavier exclaimed, and he began to bombard Tutoria with increasingly detailed questions on the mechanics of how the system.

  Milly tried to pay attention. She really did, but it was like listening to one of Xavier’s rants, with terms like ‘experience points’ and ‘talent map’ thrown about so often that she felt completely lost.\

  I'm sure Xavier will fill me in on the basics. I'll just get in the way if I try to ask my own questions.

  She strolled away from Xavier, eyes glancing over the various screens that filled the lobby. As she stood in front of the screen entitled ‘You in a Nutshell,’ she wondered why she wasn't upstairs right now, hiding in her cubicle or freaking out like Calista and the others were.

  Milly was scared, but her mind kept coming back to a single thought.

  “It’s not like I was really alive before,” she whispered to herself. “What does it matter if I die here or live back there? No one will notice anyway.”

  “Well, that’s not a very happy outlook,” said Tutoria, popping into existence next to Milly and causing her to jump again in surprise.

  Milly’s eyes flickered over to Xavier. He was still talking with the first version of Tutoria. The child had duplicated herself.

  “Handy trick,” murmured Milly, her mind still clouded with dark thoughts.

  Did I take my medication today? No, it was a gap day. I could really use it right now.

  “Thanks, Mildred Persephone Brown,” chimed Tutoria chipperly. “There are over eight hundred players in the thirteenth God Contest, and each player is assigned a Tutoria to help them during these early stages of the Contest. I am your Tutoria - Tutoria #788. You may call me #788 if you wish.”

  “Thanks…um… I go by Milly. How…how did you get assigned to me? I thought we were the first two to enter the lobby. Why aren't you #1 and #2?”

  “We are assigned based on your estimated likelihood of survival relative to your fellow players. The AI Director calculated that you would exit the Contest in 788th place out of 807 participants. That means the Director believes you will be the 19th person to die. Isn’t that neat!”

  It was one too many terrifying notions. One too many strange things that had happened today. It was as if a switch inside her flipped, her maximum tolerance for bullshit exceeded.

  “You want a happy outlook?” spat Milly. “Tell your AI Director to go fuck himself. Then tell me, in thirty seconds or less, how this all works.”

  “Okey dokey,” Tutoria replied cheerfully, taking a deep, simulated breath. “The Contest pits you against dangers located across this world. The world is split into four terrains: Mountain, Plains, Ocean Archipelago, and Jungle, each with its own challenges, monsters, and rewards. Defeating monsters or completing trials gives you experience, which makes you stronger and lets you pick talents to customize your personal approach to the Contest."

  "These screens," Tutoria said as she waved her hand to make three appear. “Will help you along your way. Player profile lets you pick which aspects of yourself to make stronger. Inventory is your own pocket dimension to store your stuff. The talent web allows you to pick special skills. They are the three main ones. You'll figure out the rest as you go.”

  Tutoria raised her wrist, as if looking at an invisible watch. “All eight hundred and seven players are part of a single team, and you win if you complete the final objectives of the Contest. You will need to discover what those objectives are on your own. You lose the Contest if all participants die. Oh, and I guess everyone who dies along the way also loses, even if the final objective is achieved. So whatever you do, don’t die!”

  She ended with a high-pitched shout, as if she were a cheerleader at a high school football game.

  Ttaking a deep breath for dramatic effect, Tutoria smiled sweetly. “There! Twenty-seven seconds. Three seconds to spare!”

  It took Milly far longer than that to mentally process everything Tutorial had told her. She wanted to ask more, to dive as deeply into the details as Xavier was, but she felt overwhelmed. Eventually, she sighed, and settled on a response.

  “Okay,” Milly muttered, surprising herself. Fear, depression, anger, and self-loathing still warred within her, but it was acceptance and defiance that had found its way to the top of her emotional battlefield.

  “Okay? Just…okay?” Tutoria #788 asked, disbelief in her voice. “Players usually need more time to process it all. Some spend an entire day in the lobby. Some never leave. Some kill themselves, or kill each other. It is all great drama, you see, to watch the players agonize over their unavoidable fate. Your response is…boring. Even Chatty McChatterson over there with Tutoria #3 is more entertaining than you are.”

  Milly just shrugged. Though Tutoria’s diatribe did reveal more than Tutoria probably had intended. This was a Contest, and what was a Contest without an audience. For a moment she thought of Oracle, the woman behind the green text, and wondered if she was one of them.

  Milly still stared at the ‘You in a Nutshell’ screen.

  I wonder who I am. Who I could become.

  Suddenly, a screen opened before her. Her own player screen.

  “Hey, you figured out how to open your screens. Congratulations,” Tutoria’s said with a sarcastic edge. “You can mentally control all your screens.”

  Milly read the entry hovering in front of her.

  “Mildred Persephone Brown. Player. Specialty: Depression. Level: 1. Strength: 2, Agility: 3, Toughness: 8, Magic: 6. Depression? Really? Tutoria, tell that AI he is a real bastard.”

  Tutoria was about to scold the player, when suddenly the word ‘depression’ started to fade away. In its place, the word ‘survivor’ appeared.

  “It…changed?” whispered Milly, shocked.

  “The thirteenth God Contest is the first ever Contest with a built-in, fully adaptive AI Director. Before this, Contests were meticulously planned over millennia but ultimately static in their nature.”

  Tutoria saw Milly’s face twist in confusion.

  “Think of it this way, if that hurts your tiny brain. Before this, Contests were designed like your Olympics. Or like your reality TV shows. Grand adventures that stretch participants to their utmost limits, but unchanging in their nature and their objectives once the Contests launched. They were unable to adapt to the players individual and collective strengths, alliances, struggles, and victories. They were predictable. But with the AI Director, this God Contest can adapt to stretch the limits of the players and respond to their choices. Even the designers don't know where it will end up.”

  “Sounds horrifying,” replied Milly. “And why are you suddenly being so mean to me. You weren't like that when I was with Xavier.”

  “That’s the AI Director again,” Tutoria said, grinning. “We change our personalities to better fit the needs of our assigned players.”

  “So…I need you to be a snarky little asshole?” Milly asked.

  “You need someone to be mad at, so you can stop focusing on how scared you are.”

  That's... that's actually pretty clever. I should be a huddled mess of tears and self-doubt right now, but all I can think about is how much this Tutoria is being a jerk.

  “Clever,” she said, more appreciative of the depth of Tutoria’s…personality? Programming? Milly did not know what to attribute it to and decided it didn't matter.

  The elevator dinged. Xavier abruptly ended his questions and rushed over to her just as six new people walked into the lobby.

  Lawyers from Legal Eagles, judging by their disheveled dress clothes.

  “Shit, we wasted too much time here. Come on, Milly. We need to go,” Xavier said, pulling her towards the exit to the western prairies.

  “Why? Where are we going?” Milly asked. She wanted to ask him a hundred questions, but that was the only one that found its way to her voice.

  Xavier stopped in the doorway and grabbed a half dozen rusted weapons from the crates beside the exit. He opened his Inventory screen and Milly watched in amazement as each weapon vanished as it touched the screen. It was now represented by a tiny icon.

  “I plan on being the best Milly. The strongest. The fastest. The one who will survive. That means getting out there first and staying ahead of everyone else. Fall behind in these games, and you are one step closer to the grave,” Xavier replied, as if this was a well-known fact.

  “But this is a team contest,” protested Milly. “We win or lose together.”

  Xavier scoffed at the notion. “Are you willing to let Calista become stronger than you? Mr. Fredrickson? Mr. Stone, the CEO? These people already walk all over you. Do you think they will treat you differently in this Contest? Strength is everything, Milly. You can only rely on yourself. Fall behind, and you will become the victim of those stronger than you.”

  “Then why bring me with you?” Milly asked, as she followed Xavier’s lead and selected a variety of weapons for her own inventory. “Why bother with me at all?”

  “Because you are the only person I trust,” he responded absentmindedly as he threw open the doors and let the dry prairie air wash over their skin. Xavier took a deep breath, smiled, and stepped through the door.

  With Xavier’s admission in her mind, Milly followed Xavier out of the Castle of Glass.

  Into the God Contest.

  Into the Unknown.

  The Non-Canonical Aftermath: