Dr. Tamara Woo-Smith pressed her fingers into the small bump of bone on her wrist, a relic from a childhood spent leaping off furniture believing she could fly. The pain kept her grounded as she waited. She’d dreamed of this moment her whole life. Never thought it would truly happen.
The door whispered open, slipping soundlessly into the ceiling. A wash of green light filled the room, refracted through the thing that slid into the room. Tamara straightened, forcing a smile. Under the desk, away from the cameras her leg went into overdrive, bouncing like it was trying to escape.
The seven foot cube of green goo slid forward, leaving a gleaming trail of slime in its wake. It paused before the desk, oozing over the chair set out for it, which suspended into its body. From within the wobbling mass, a floating tablet rose to the surface, displaying a yellow emoji face—smiling, of course.
“On behalf of the United Earth,” Tamara began, voice as steady as she could manage, “I, Dr. Tamara Woo-Smith, welcome you to our world. Be—”
“Yes, yes, dear,” the cube interrupted, its voice warm and patronizing, like a kindergarten teacher who’d been asked the same question one too many times. “Thank you. So lovely to be here. Quite comfortable, I assure you. Now, let’s get on with it, shall we? Busy schedule—I've three more planets to onboard today!” The emoji switched to a panting red face. ‘Busy busy!’
Tamara blinked. Onboard?
“Onboard?” she repeated, wrestling the conversation back on track.
“Yes, dear.” The emoji now sported rosy cheeks, bouncing jovially. Its cartoonish eyes flickered about the room taking in the cameras, Tamara's AI wearables, the sensors that inundated the alien with invisible waves. “I must say, your civilization is more advanced than we expected! Aren’t you a clever bunch?”
“Thank you,” she replied tightly. She recognized condescension when she heard it.
“We usually make contact a few centuries after industrialization. Gives you time to either blow yourselves up, which saves me the trip, or reach a point where you don’t completely panic when you realize you’re just one of millions in the universe.” A wagging finger emoji appeared. “But you? All those telescopes! Peeking out into the cosmos, looking for us? Naughty, naughty. Always ask permission before peeking!” Winking face. Blushing face.
Tamara ignored it. Was it joking with her? “So there are… millions of civilizations out there?”
The cube seemed distracted, its emoji eyes scanning a satellite image of Iceland’s fjords displayed on the far wall. “Hm? Oh, no, don’t be silly.” Cry-laughing emoji. “Only a fraction make it.”
“Make it where?”
“Anywhere, dear. My, you are slow, aren’t you?” The cube jiggled and emitted a scent like burning pine needles—a soundless, mocking laugh.
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Tamara pressed hard against her wrist, the pain kept her focussed.
“Let me make this simple,” the cube continued, adopting the tone of someone talking to a toddler. “Whenever we induct a civilization into the Intersol, we grade them. Unfortunately for you, Earth didn’t make the cut.”
“What?”
The emoji face shifted to exaggerated sadness, tears streaming dramatically. “It’s rare, honestly! Only one in ten thousand outright fail. You’ve been granted ‘Protected' status. Think of it like… living in a zoo! Isn’t that exciting?!”
“A zoo?” Tamara’s voice wavered.
“Yes, dear. Protected, isolated, safe from the big, scary universe. In exchange, the Council will harvest 30% of your biomass every sixteen solar years. Automated, of course, so you don’t have to fuss over logistics.” The emoji grinned—wide, toothy and fucking horrific.
“What?”
“Biomass, darling. That’s you. And, well, everything else alive on your planet. It’s a hungry universe, you see. But 30% isn’t so bad! Just keep the birth rate up, and you’ll be fine!”
“What?”
The cube slid back, releasing the chair it had swallowed with a wet plop.
“But… we have world peace,” Tamara stammered. “No poverty. No hunger. Crime is nearly nonexistent. Our world is… perfect. How could we fail?”
The emoji face switched to a dramatic sad face, eyes large and watery. “Oh, you poor thing. Your kindness is… adorable, really. But the universe doesn’t care about peace or empathy. It takes what it wants, and it eats the rest. Honestly, being a zoo exhibit is the best you could hope for. You should see what happens to the full participants who lose Wargames!” Cry laughing emoji, the scent of burned pine and then a clip of Alderaan being blown up by the Death Star flickered accross the tablet.
Tamara’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the desk. “You can’t do this.”
“Of course we can. But there’s a loophole, if you’re feeling ambitious!” The cube jiggled toward the door, leaving a gleaming trail of slime. “Even though you've failed, we'll still take a sample population for the games. After all its nice to know what you're eating." Toothy grin, winking face. "Win and you'll be afforded the same rights as any other victorious civilisation. We’ll skip the biomass harvest, remove the protected status and view you as an equal.”
“What the fuck is Wargames?”
The cube paused in the doorway, jiggling as though dancing and adopted a sing-song tone.
“A thousand worlds, a brutal fight,
Who will rise, who fades from sight?
In the cosmos, stakes are high,
Wargames reign—fight or die!”
The jelly snorted as it disappeared through the door. “Good luck!”
Writers Note: Oh boy, oh boy here we bloody go. Buckle your seatbelts, return your trays to the upright position and pucker your buttholes 'cos ya'll are in for a wild ride!
I've written several short stories and a 140k word novel, but this is my first LITRPG, and first submission on Royal Road.
Being my first time (blushing emoji?) the more feedback I get, the faster I will release chapters. So fire up, like, share and subscribe or whatever the hell you're supposed to do and let me know what you think!
Cheers,
PFortunato