It was proving harder to find people to compete in the Governance than Callisto had anticipated. He had been trusting in people’s inherent arrogance. To imagine a world of 8 billion people where fewer than 10,000 thought that they could defeat him was inconceivable to him. Apparently he was to be a victim of his own success.

Most of the entries that he had gotten so far were from gangsters. The rest of the world had a more realistic idea of what it would mean to be in direct competition with him. He assumed the gangsters were just trying to be the biggest man on campus.

Each person started with fifty thousand dollars worth of investment capital, and a cubic meter of private volume. With access to the complete Valuestream and a little luck, he figured that he could turn that into a few million in the first weeks. Having said that to a reporter might turn out to have been a mistake. The minds that he really wanted and that the Valuestream thrived on were the sort that didn’t think in terms of dollars and cents, but in terms of the potential value of their ideas.

If he read about one more fucking entrant who intended to start making their fortune in the Governance with pornography, he was going to burn the form. Rules and fairness be damned, even if they are my own I am going to burn the fucking paper. Then he laughed; there was no paperwork to become part of the Governance. Even if he destroyed the monitor that he was reading, the files would still exist. Technology can be so unsatisfying.

The idea of private volume had not gone over well with the media. Online speculation about what would make the most effective volume was rampant. While newscasters favored idea like bringing diamonds, gold, or uranium, internet opinion seemed convinced that data was the most important single item that could be brought on board.

Into the Governance, he corrected himself immediately. All of JP’s bravado about putting a craft in space before time was out had him halfway convinced that that was where the first Governance would occur. Although, it would be quite a twist to run the last few months of the show in space. It really wouldn’t change the base idea at all. With all the hours that he was putting into his work and the Conspirator’s Collaboration, it was a miracle that he hadn’t started mixing things together any worse.

Even if Paine manages this miracle, I still need to make sure I don’t let it slip during any of my press appearances.

As the most visible member of the Conspirator’s Collaboration, he knew that his role was the most dangerous. He was in the most danger of giving away their intentions, at least until JP’s unveiling at the first game of VI’s Ultimate season.

At least that is going well, Callisto thought, momentarily brought back to his and Jules’ last ultimate practice. The man was a machine on the field, and what he was still lacking in athleticism, he more than made up for in cognitive presence. When he catches the disc, the chilliness seems to spread from him to the next throw and just keep going. They hadn’t practiced together officially, but the few games with those he trusted to keep his secrets had proved that JP deserved a spot on the VI squad.

The way that man trains is absolutely terrifying. He could explain every step, every angle of his joints, and every motion of his muscles in at least three different ways. And it’s working. The results from the second assessment day had shown significant improvement in every category. Every season that passed brought Cal closer to his inevitable retirement from professional sports, but he didn’t expect it to be this year.

Next year it could be a non-issue. Because I could be on board a spacecraft running from an international police force that doesn’t even exist yet. Barring that—the Governance is going to be taking up way too much of my time.

There had to be a way to improve the caliber of candidate that he was getting. He was giving away tickets that were more valuable than gold. He was giving away tickets to guaranteed power. Celebrity status would be one of the slightest advantages to be gained from his show. Even a fool could keep himself fed for a year on fifty-thousand dollars; a moderately intelligent man could use it on the ‘stream to make enough money to make the work of the rest of his given days a tiny percentage of the rest of his life.

As simple as that? To get the sort of people that he wanted involved, he had first to realize that the most successful people on the ‘stream aren’t the ones in it for the money. Money wasn’t even their primary goal. By making the competition about money and power he had mislabeled his brand. The Valuestream creates value, not profit. It was too late to change the fundamental structure of the competition. But it isn’t too late to recruit the right sort of people.

“Grace. Can you produce a vid commercial for me? Afterwards you’ll certainly need to create written press reports as well.”

“Certainly Callisto. Go ahead.”

“To attract a better sort of competitor” he began, “we’ll have to initiate a competition whose true prize is entry into the Governance, but that isn’t what we’ll tell them. We’ll give away a lifetime of medical care to the winner, and gradations of care to the runners-up.”

“What is the nature of the competition?”

As the idea expanded, the computer used her cameras to detect Callisto’s increased ocular relaxation, respiration, and manual mobility. One of the show-and-tells had been to seek a greater understanding of human emotion. Jules had approved. “We will be adding multiple competitions for the Pre-Governance project as a whole. We need to add multiple formats. Some will be races to a certain liquid monetary value; best solo project and best collaborator; some will be timed competitions to register the highest truth percentages and the most posts.” Cal stood abruptly, continuing, “It will get people mentally ready for the Governance contest; the mini-competitions will get the ‘Streamers invested into the ‘Stream and into the competitions. It’ll be great PR. We could even use gimmick to expand the ‘Stream into under-saturated markets like India and …”

As the computer registered the rapid change in her user’s facial and vocal patterns, she simultaneously attempted to ascertain both the cause of his grammatical failure, and correct completion of his sentence. A few nanoseconds after his pause, she had an answer with a high probability of success, but not so great that she could assume its verity. “China. Mr. Venturi. It seems to me that this would be an excellent opportunity to expand the market into China. Given the opportunity to prove their superiority, the Chinese are sure to participate.”

Callisto sighed, he knew that he had just caused a major breakthrough in the other work that consumed his days. Not to mention if we bring a dose of nationalism into the Governance, that will change the type of recruit we’ve been getting. He just wished he could be happier about it. “I think we just found our first route into the opinions of the Chinese people, and into the Chinese Valuestream.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

****

Some nights, Lauria knew that she couldn’t sleep with him. The apartment that had been her home since she moved to New York was starting to feel neglected, except for the Lay-Z Boy that she had taken from her dad’s house after he died. It looked as it always had. Ancient, vaguely dusty, and covered in corduroy brown material. How many times have I fallen asleep in that chair?

When she was a child, that chair had been her punishment. Do you need to go to the brown chair? Maybe another child would have needed more stick, but for her, the thought of spending 15 minutes doing nothing but thinking on her sins was enough. How did I end up liking that damn chair so much?

She never wondered about that when she was sitting in it though.

Now that she was home, she started getting her priorities straight. First things first, hot dogs and ice cream. The trouble with living with a gourmet chef is that you can never complain about the food, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to eat. Sometimes she just wanted pizza and chicken wings.

It was usually when she was home that she had her what the fuck is happening to me moments. They hadn’t been occurring when she left the penthouse on top of VI. On a private chartered helicopter, flown by a man named Lars, who claimed that his contract required a subpoena to reveal the existence or identity of his passengers, no, somehow that isn’t when I freak the fuck out.

To be fair, she had had a bit of a cow when he told her that if they were travelling over national borders, it would require a request from the Secretary General of the UN to reveal her identity. And since VI was technically in international waters… her commute was protected by international law.

It was the sort of thing that was custom-built to fuck with her mind.

When you added that to the fact that she might soon be grateful to be beyond the long reach of the American government, you could call her general state of mind fucking tenuous.

Each decision on the path that led her to where she had been natural for her to make. Even the decision to participate in JP’s crazy plan to take his company back from the Chinese government hadn’t troubled her dreams too deeply. But when she realized the past week she’d spent plotting the overthrow of the world’s most populous nation had been the week of her mother’s birthday, she knew that it was time to draw a line and sleep in her own bed.

She never said it was going to be a thick line.

So now she was back in her apartment, wondering how to tell her mom that she was in over her head. As usual, she found that the best way to confess her emotions was usually the bluntest.

“Mom, I’m in over way over my fucking head.”

Her mom’s raspy voice answered over the phone. “Don’t expect me to be surprised child of mine. Neither me or your dad could ever control ourselves where the other was concerned. That’s the trouble with being love in our family. It does something to our brains. Your Aunt Belle says for the first couple of month I after I met your father she didn’t see. When she finally did, I was so fucking smitten she thought he’s given me a me lobotomy.”

Lauria listened to sound of her mom’s cackle with relief. Not so much from the words themselves, it was just the familiar sound that she found soothing.

“Thanks a lot, Ma.” She sassed. “Good to know at least you can enjoy my pain.”

“Well it’s true. When your father proposed I was so thrilled I passed out and hit my head on the curb. You should have seen his face when I woke up the emergency room. He couldn’t decide if it meant I loved him or I didn’t, and he was too nice to ask when I could still be concussed. It was adorable.”

Mom, I’m losing some part of myself to him. I might even be sacrificing my future. Why is it never easy to say the most important thing? “Mom, I don’t feel in control of the relationship any more.”

“What did you expect, deeaar? Did you think he was going to stay that foundling that was only yours forever? I mean really, how sad would it have been if he never remembered who he was? Let me ask you a serious question. Why did you accept the Companionship?”

As if that wasn’t a question for a soap opera… “Well, Ma, to start with I liked him. He had a look in his eyes like he really saw me you know. It wasn’t like he was looking at me and mentally somewhere else. When I talked, all of him was listening.”

A little chuckle over countless miles of wire, “Oh that’s good dear, I didn’t realize he was a good man. And after the revelation, why did you?”

“He was still the same man. He made me laugh even when he was telling me that he was… who he is. It must have been an incredible ordeal for him, but some part of him was still looking out for me, being gentle with my emotions. It made me feel, well, loved.”

“Has he said that he loves you?”

“Not in as many words, but he’s made his affection very obvious.”

Even in 2019 there was still static during the call, and it was way above the vacuum oscillation level. “What are you thinking, dear? There is something that is tapping on your cortex you that aren’t telling me.”

Of course there is. I am no longer a child, there are always things on my mind. But still, it was why she had called. “I am losing part of myself to him.”

To her mother’s credit, there was no flippant response. Maybe she had heard the gravity in her daughter’s voice, or maybe it was that trace of parental telepathy that is always there. But something about her mother’s response seemed genuine. Lauria was no longer young, and maybe her mom felt one of the last true chances to influence her daughter.

“Child, that is the way of love. There are spaces in you that will no longer exist when you find a love that can last a lifetime. In time you will find that the touch of another soul—hush child, I know the word offends you, but translate for an old woman—will give you back more than you have lost.”

“What about now, how do I keep from becoming…” She really didn’t know what she meant.

“Morally adrift? A being whose center will not hold? Is that what you fear?” Lauria heard that cackle again, so confident and sure it soothed her own worries. “You are too strong for that. You are no innocent waiting on her first kiss, to be caught unaware by the force it exerts on your heart. And when you fear most that you are gone. Look to your man, and see what he has given up for you, and know that you are never to be alone again.”

She didn’t know if it were wise or not. She didn’t know if it was comforting or not, but she got the sense that it was the best she was going to get. “Thanks Mom.”

“It has been my honor. But really dear, with a catch like him you shouldn’t even question. Why, if it comes right down to it. Just grit your teeth and wait for the divorce. You will never know poverty again.”

What? “What?”

“Really dear, you should have told me.”

“Told you what, mom?” It felt like ice was sliding down her back. Oh no, it’s too soon.

“That your JP was none other than Julius Paine. His name is all over the news today and I couldn’t help but notice that he was the same man as in the picture you sent me. You have gotten terribly lucky, won the lottery as it were.”

“Lauria?”

“Lauria?”

Then the phone clicked dead just after the sound of a door slamming. She wouldn’t be sleeping in her own bed tonight after all.