It was a Monday, and that meant at least nine hours of mind-numbing work were ahead of him, but that wasn’t the primary reason he felt like the day had already gone bad. True, his mood wasn’t helped by the churning he felt in his stomach, testament to a night of gaming, junk food, and beer, which had left Pete with a blinding headache and a feeling like a rat was building a nest in his gut.
Then there was the brutal reality of the day ahead, filled with monotonous spreadsheets and equally monotonous conversations beginning with ‘how was your weekend?’, all of which he’d have to endure with a blinding hangover. Worse, there was the certain knowledge that he had years of working a dead-end job to look forward to, a mountain of debt crushing him into the ground day by day, and a head full of regrets and petty resentments that all led to the same question.
There had to be more to life than this, right?
Mostly, though, Pete suspected this wasn’t going to be his lucky day because of the giant metallic obelisk, which had fallen from the sky a moment earlier and turned his Mitsubishi Mirage into a ruined smear of metal and rubber.
“Makes sense,” he said, sighing as he walked towards the giant shard of metal.
“My insurance company will call this an Act of God too, so there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be covered for this.”
The metal obelisk stood at least fifty feet high. It was a long rectangular block that tapered a little at the base and, from what Pete could see, at the top too. There were no obvious markings or grooves in the slick metal surface, just sheer lines of dull gray metal.
A quick look skyward confirmed that there were no spaceships hovering in the air, no obvious sign of where the obelisk had come from. As he looked back down at the object, however, Pete could see that it had obviously come from above. The small impact crater surrounding the obelisk and the state of his newly pulped car suggested that the obelisk hadn’t simply appeared out of nowhere; it had fallen from a height.
The impact had also been loud enough to wake up half the neighborhood and had prompted Pete to exit his apartment prematurely, without even getting dressed for the day. Instead of the drab black suit and white shirt he was forced to wear for work, he was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a well-worn t-shirt, along with a pair of sneakers.
The sound of breaking glass and twisting metal that had accompanied the tremendous thud as the obelisk landed suggested that there had been a car accident. Pete had quickly slipped on some clothes, grabbed his car keys, and headed out the door, hoping like hell that it wasn’t his car involved in the accident.
Standing there looking at the huge metal shard, Pete nodded to himself. Somehow, this seemed right. Of all the cars parked on the roadside, of course it was his that got crushed by an alien obelisk falling from the sky.
The massive object stood perfectly still. Pete wondered how deep into the earth the obelisk actually went. Given its size and likely weight, he guessed it would have to extend for at least five feet into the ground. Then again, who knew when it came to alien obelisks?
“What the hell, Pete?” a voice called out from his right.
Pete turned to see old lady Cooper standing in her driveway, wearing a blue dressing gown and scowling at the giant metal pillar. She waved a hand towards the object, dropping ash from her cigarette as she gestured to the obelisk.
“How’d you go and do that then?” she barked. “Landlord’s not gonna like that. Big old statue right out there in the middle of the street. They’ll tan your hide for that.”
“It’s not mine, Mrs. Cooper. It just kind of fell from the sky.”
He pointed upward as if to demonstrate, and the old lady looked up, squinting.
“What the hell do you mean ‘fell from the sky’? Fell from what?”
“I dunno,” Pete said, squinting against the bright morning light, his headache spawning a sharp pain behind his right eye.
The old lady shook her head after a few moments and began shuffling forward to get a better look at the obelisk, one hand outstretched with the ash-laden cigarette dangling precariously from her fingers.
Pete scratched his head.
“Could have come off a satellite, I guess, but it seems way too big and heavy for something like that.”
Mrs. Cooper snorted. “Don’t be daft, son. Shit like that doesn’t just fall out of the sky. It landed here on purpose. Damn aliens have been watching us for years. I guess now they’ve decided to make their move.”
Pete frowned, moving closer to the object and holding his car keys in his fist with one key jutting out like a punch dagger. It’s something he’d seen on TV years earlier and, for some reason, the metallic obelisk jutting up from the ground ahead of him prompted the memory and his instinctive response. He wasn’t exactly sure what a key dagger would do against whatever the hell was inside that obelisk, but he felt a little better having something he could use as a weapon rather than just his bare hands.
Force multiplier.
That was the phrase he remembered from some late-night TV show where a fighting expert showed the host how to use any object to fend off an attacker. It had been a pen in the example Pete remembered, but he figured a key would be just as effective, maybe more so, given that it was the longer ignition key for his now obliterated Mitsubishi.
“Give it a knock,” the old lady said, moving closer. “See what they want.”
“Just go inside, Mrs. Cooper,” he replied. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out again.”
The old woman grunted.
“Son, if this is aliens, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna miss it. Been waitin’ all my life for something like this. Little green men have been watching us from the shadows ever since one o’ them UFOs crash-landed down in Roswell. Bastards have been biding their time. My cousin Marvin says he’d been abducted ten times! I don’t know what in the hell those creepy green gremlins want with Ray’s butthole, but they keep beaming him up over and over again and sticking him with a probe.”
Pete ignored her, walking closer to the obelisk as several of his neighbors began heading out into the street, blinking away sleep, some holding impromptu weapons, others staring wide-eyed at the huge metal shard that had pulverized his car.
“Why this fascination with buttholes?” Mrs. Cooper went on. “I mean, you could go in through the mouth or the ears. Or just cut the damned old boy open and have a poke around. Hell, we’ve got technology of our own that can scan a body without having to go digging around the butthole. But these aliens with all the power of interstellar travel can’t do a full body scan without prodding their little fingers up the tooter?! Doesn’t make any sense unless those sick bastards have got some kind of sick fetish going on.”
“Please just go inside, Mrs. Cooper,” Pete repeated. “It might not be safe out here.”
“Safe? What the hell do I care about safe? I’m eighty-two years old, for God’s sake. A chance like this to come face to face with a bunch of little green men. No way in hell am I passing that up. Besides, I’ve got protection.”
She whistled sharply, and a blur of white came scurrying out from the old lady’s house, scampering along the ground and climbing up her dressing gown. The little ferret insinuated itself into her arms as she was forced to discard the cigarette and hold it with both hands.
“Good boy, Pickle!” the old lady cooed, stroking the ferret’s neck. “You’ll protect Momma from these little green gremlins, won’t you?”
Pete left the old woman where she was and turned his attention back to the obelisk. Now that he stood closer, he could feel the earth vibrating a little around the object, and there seemed to be a heat haze or similar distortion in the air nearby. The temperature hadn’t risen, though, as he moved closer, and he still saw no clear markings or other distinguishing features on the dull gray surface of the obelisk that might provide some answers as to exactly what it was.
The urge to reach out and touch the metal surface of the object was overwhelming.
Pete took a step closer, his now pointless car key jutting from his clenched right fist. Maybe punching a little green man in the forehead with the car key wasn’t the smartest play here, but he’d rather be prepared than get zapped by whatever was about to come walking out of this thing.
“Don’t let them abduct you!” Mrs. Cooper barked. “No matter what they promise you, it ain’t worth it. Marvin’s never been the same since the first time they took him. Can’t go through airport scanners anymore, and his ticker’s not right. Says it’s all because of those damned aliens.”
Pete tuned out the old woman’s voice. His heart was beating rapidly, and his breathing was a little labored. That was to be expected, of course, given the giant space popsicle that had crushed his vehicle and now stood in front of him like a metallic middle finger. It was also likely due to dehydration and the other effects he was clearly feeling from last night’s gaming session with Ollie.
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He took a breath, steadied himself, and reached out his left hand, holding it just a few inches from the metal surface of the obelisk. There was no change in temperature, no tingling fingers or zap of electricity, nothing.
“Fuck it,” he blurted, leaning forward and placing his hand against the side of the obelisk.
It was cold to the touch but otherwise felt completely unremarkable. Just cold, flat, and metallic, as though he was touching a refrigerator door or one of a hundred other mundane metal surfaces. The moment his fingers contacted the obelisk, however, a section of the structure opened up at eye level to the accompanying sound of hissing, as though steam was being released from somewhere nearby.
Pete backed away, holding his right fist ready and bracing himself for whatever alien nastiness was about to come flying out at him.
“What the hell’s going on!” Mrs. Cooper barked. “I can’t see!”
A single section of metal slid back to reveal a small hollow space with a glowing orb the size of a large apple hovering in place. It glowed with soft white light and revolved in place like a tiny planet.
As he watched the orb rotating in midair, a melodic female voice entered his head, speaking directly into his mind without having to pass through his ears first.
>> Greetings, human. The inestimable Tongsly Belch, High Baron of the Dominion and Managing Director of the Tongsly Belch Corporation, welcomes you to the Dominion Ultrimax Competition, a cosmos-spanning gladiatorial contest in which your planet has been selected to take part.
Pete blinked, shaking his head as he tried to come to terms with what he was hearing. Ultimax? It sounded like a brand of female sanitary pads.
>> The Mammon System is in the process of integrating with your world and establishing key event zones and game facilities. During this integration period, individuals from your planet will be selected to fight a variety of enemies and, if they survive initiation and prove themselves worthy, they will progress to a novice level Gladiatorial Arena. Contestants who are successful in this endeavor will be ushered into the wider gaming experience where they will have access to exciting rewards and wealth beyond their wildest dreams.
“Wait,” Pete blurted. “So, this is an invasion?”
“Ask them about the probing!” Mrs. Cooper called out. “Why do they keep abducting people, and what’s with all the probing?!”
Pete ignored the old woman, listening as the female voice continued calmly explaining.
>> No, this is not strictly an invasion. Earth has been chosen for the sixty-first season of the Dominion Ultrimax Contest and, as such, now falls under Clause 17.3b of the standard Contest Agreement.
+| Clause 17.3b: Waiver of Hostile Intent
By consenting to host the Dominion Ultrimax, the undersigned planetary authority (hereinafter referred to as “The Host” or “That Poor Sap”) hereby expressly, irrevocably, and with full knowledge of consequences:
+| Waives, suspends, and forever relinquishes any and all claims, petitions, or indignant hollering that the presence of Dominion contestants, war machines, orbital drop-pods, or incidental explosions constitutes “invasion,” “occupation,” or “an act of war.”
+| Acknowledges that said contestants are legally defined as “tourists” regardless of whether they are firing plasma rifles into local wildlife, detonating municipal bridges, or establishing provisional tax systems.
+| Agrees that planetary casualties, scorched earth, and/or the sudden appearance of a rogue Grignax army shall be categorized as sporting byproducts and not grounds for diplomatic complaint.
“That’s…” Pete struggled to find adequate words to describe the confusion and anger he was suddenly feeling. “That’s ridiculous! You can’t just invade and then say it isn’t an invasion because of some bullshit clause in an agreement I’m guessing no one on this planet has ever seen before.”
>> Incorrect. As per Clause 17.3c, there is no requirement for the agreement to be sighted or read by citizens on the host world.
+| Clause 17.3c: Implied Consent Through Negligent Ignorance.
For the avoidance of doubt (and of tiresome whining), the Host acknowledges, affirms, and is hereby reminded that:
+| The validity of Clause 17.3b is not contingent upon actual receipt, review, or comprehension of this Agreement by the Host’s ruling council, citizenry, livestock, or subterranean fungal overlords.
+| Failure by said parties to open, read, or otherwise acknowledge the Agreement (including but not limited to shredding, burning, or using it as ceremonial toilet paper) shall be deemed constructive acceptance, on the legal basis of “Well, you should have checked your mail.”
Pete stood with his mouth open, feeling like he’d just lost a very expensive wager without even placing a bet.
“That doesn’t make any sense! You’re just writing your own rules!”
>> Fighters who progress past the Novice Arena will then face more difficult enemies and will move on to the Initiate Arena. A player who demonstrates sufficient skill may then advance through the different arena levels and eventually take part in the professional league. If a sufficient number of contestants from Earth reach the professional league, the human race will be welcomed into the Dominion at supplicant level, guaranteeing that at least some of your species will survive.
“That’s not gonna happen!” Pete protested. “For a start, none of us signed up for this shit, and secondly, the military is gonna stomp your ass if you try to invade.”
“What’s going on?!” Mrs. Cooper repeated, shuffling closer. “Who are you talking to?”
>> If a sufficient number of human contestants make it to the professional league, then the Earth will be established as a protected game zone. After paying a small, non-refundable deposit—the death or enslavement of two-thirds of the human population—your species will then join the Dominion as employees. In this capacity, they will be able to earn rewards by building and repairing Ultrimax arenas, working in factories to assemble an astounding array of high-quality Tongsly Belch merchandise, or serving as food for the various creatures that take part in the contest. If humanity performs well, they may progress to full Dominion citizenship within a century or two.
“What the fuck?!” Pete blurted. “This can’t be real. This is insane!”
He began pacing around, drawing puzzled looks from his neighbors.
“I’m not here. This is some kind of super vivid dream, or I’m just hallucinating. I must have overdosed on Lucky Charms and Snickers bars last night; that’s all.”
“If this is your hallucination, then why the hell can I see it?” Mrs. Cooper asked.
>> In order to reach the professional league, you must first prove your worth in the Novice, Initiate, Gladiator, and Veteran arenas. Upon reaching the Novice Arena, you will be given an opportunity to acquire a single soulbound weapon. This weapon will progress with you through the ranks of the game as you move from arena to arena. It should be noted that you only get one soulbound weapon, so when the time comes, it is recommended that you choose wisely. You will also be provided with an AI tutor to guide you through the game process once you have completed the configuration process.
“Okay, so this all works like a game. I choose a class, a weapon, and then I have to fight to survive?”
>> Enemies will begin appearing in sixty seconds. If you wish to participate in the Dominion Ultrimax Contest, please reach out and accept your gauntlet.
“Wait? You said we only get one weapon? How the hell does that make any sense?”
“What’s that shiny ball there?” Mrs. Cooper asked from somewhere behind him. “Don’t touch it, Pete! It could have radiation!”
One of the other tenants in Pete’s apartment building leaned out from a second-floor balcony and shouted at the pair. “What is it? What’s inside?”
“It’s a magic ball!” Mrs. Cooper shouted back. “I told him not to touch it! It might have alien radiation or God knows what!”
>> Enemies will be appearing in fifty-five seconds. Good luck, contestant! All praise the High Baron Tongsly Belch!
“Shit!” Pete barked as the swirling orb moved out of the metal alcove at the side of the obelisk and headed towards him.
The ball of energy moved further out, hovering five feet above the ground and moving right up to Pete’s chest.
“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” he hissed.
“It’s moved now!” Mrs. Cooper shouted over her shoulder, now giving a running narration of what was going on. “Looks like it’s going after Pete!”
>> Please take your gauntlet, contestant.
>> 50 seconds.
He shook his head, reaching for the swirling orb but pulling back a moment before making contact as his cell phone vibrated in his pants, almost making him throw up his own heart.
“Fuck!” he barked, fumbling in his pocket and fishing out his cell phone. He saw that it was Ollie and answered.
“Dude!” Ollie screamed at the other end of the phone. “Have you seen this shit! Aliens, bro! We’ve been invaded by fucking aliens!”
Pete looked up at the obelisk.
“Yeah, I know.”
“It’s all over the news, dude! There are thousands of these obelisk things all over the place. A bunch of people even got crushed by the damned things.” His voice sounded stilted, as though he were running and having to take short, sharp breaths.
“I’m heading to one of the buggers now,” Ollie went on in his Australian twang. “When those little green fuckers come walkin’ out, I wanna see it with my own eyes.”
Pete shook his head.
“I don’t think they’re green aliens, Ollie. Listen, there’s—”
>> 35 seconds. Please take your gauntlet, contestant.
“Shit!” Pete snapped.
“What? What is it?”
“One of those obelisk things,” Pete said. “I’m standing in front of one right now. It’s been speaking to me.”
“What the… Seriously?! Dude! What’s it saying?”
“It says I’ve got thirty seconds before enemies start spawning. I need to pick up some kind of gauntlet and fight in a gladiatorial contest or Earth’s gonna get screwed. Shit, I think we’re screwed either way.”
“Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, bro! Grab the damned gauntlet already!”
“It might be a trick?”
“Who the hell cares? You don’t have a choice, right? Just hit me up when you’re done. I’ll come get you. Gotta go and pick up one of those gauntlets for myself!”
The call dropped, leaving Pete staring at the orb still hovering in front of his chest.
>> Fifteen seconds remain before the first wave of enemies spawns. If you do not wish to be slaughtered, please take your gauntlet so that calibration can begin.
Pete gritted his teeth.
“Alright, let’s do this!”
He reached out and grabbed the swirling energy sphere or, rather, tried to grab it. Instead of grasping something solid, his fingers passed through the sphere as though it were a hologram.
The sphere changed color, shifting to a bright green hue, its swirling interior intensifying as an emerald glow surrounded the strange object.
>> Gauntlet accepted. Please select your companion soul so that calibration can begin.
“Companion soul?” Pete asked. “What the hell is a—”
A liver-spotted hand reached past Pete and grabbed the sphere. Elena Cooper’s aged fingers passed through the ball of energy, and it shifted to a bright orange color.
>> Your companion soul has been chosen; however, your companion’s current body is unsuitable for the Dominion Ultrimax Competition. Please advise your companion to choose a more suitable host.
Pete looked down at the old woman.
“Mrs. Cooper, you shouldn’t be here! You need to get back inside your house!”
“I told you before,” she blurted back, “I ain’t going anywhere. Not while there are aliens about, and I can finally get some answers.”
“It’s not safe!” Pete repeated. “This thing’s about to spawn enemies any second now!”
She showed him a toothy grin, lifting up the white ferret she was holding. “That’s what Pickles is for. He’ll protect me.”
>> Pickles has been chosen as your companion’s preferred vessel. Configuration will now take place.
Pete blinked. The old lady had vanished along with the ferret, leaving Pete standing on the street, his mouth wide open.
>> Commencing configuration.
“What the—”