She opened it to find two paper contracts and a pen. “I wouldn’t have applied if I wasn’t serious. I read the terms and conditions prior. I’ll read them again now.” Though, literally, she really had nothing to lose. No money, no prospects, not even real freedom. She couldn’t afford it.
And those who worked for, or affiliated with a corporation like the EPED, were known for being taken care of.Perhaps…because it’s run by a Cyborg that’ll change.People flocked to work for a place like the EPED because it was at least something, a way to improve one’s life.
“You don’t want a lawyer present?” he asked.
“I can’t afford a lawyer.”
“Ah. There is one caveat though, Vee Miles. One you must follow without exception that was not advertised on our site.”
Vee glanced up from the contract. “A caveat?”
She lowered the folder into her lap as he explained.
* * *
That night, Vee lay on her bed while the day rushed through her mind. Hours had gone by, signing page after page. A digital copy was sent to her personal IP identification immediately after.
Nightheart explained everything. That if she won the Terraform Zero Championship, she would get to keep the prize. That if she didn’t win or receive a high-profile job from the event, she would be given one at the EPED.
They’re better than the military, she mused. Workers were hard to come by, and right now, one of the freedoms she did have was that she was able to work for herself… for the time being.
Vee made sure to add a clause in the contract that if she placed second or third, even if she worked for the EPED afterward, she would be allowed to participate in next year’s championship if she qualified. Sponsorship or not.
Details were hashed out.
In one week, the three million credits would be in her account.
She grabbed her pillow, pressed it to her face, and screamed with heart-thundering excitement. Every fiber, every muscle seized with disbelief. She screamed a little more until her neighbor banged on the wall and yelled at her to shut up.
I may have signed away some of my freedom, but who wouldn’t in my circumstances?
Rolling over, she gazed at her apartment’s ceiling and wiped happy tears from her eyes.
She’d never had more than a couple hundred credits in her account at any given time. Not since she moved out of her parents’ apartment and into her own. The moment she’d turned eighteen and refused to go to college and get a higher education, her relationship with them became strained.
‘If you want to make it in this universe without a degree, then go and try. Prove us wrong.’
Despite their differences, she still had a relationship with her parents and understood their reasoning.
They never understood her love for the game, or that she was already pursuing her life’s goals through it. Or that she was working for a bigger dream: making the game into a reality.
It was a way to get off of Earth and explore the wilds of the untamed universe. To be one of the first people on a new planet.
Terraform Zero had everything, taught everything one needed to play it well. Playing the game as a child, she was learning methodology, statistics, advanced math, interpreting algorithms, vocabulary, history, meteorology, zoology, ethics, and the list goes on and on. There were levels of course, and courses offered within the game, starting beginners with a simple point-and-click game. But for those who really loved it, they could advance deep into the wholesale logistics of colonizing a new world. The game never went deeper than the player wanted.
Though the game’s eighteenth edition came out five years ago, the game had been around for the past two hundred, perfected and re-perfected by the best scholars in the known universe. It was used as a simulation for potentially habitable planets, moons, and asteroids. Oftentimes, the location became a multi-year challenge for those who took the game seriously.
This year, the Terraform Zero Championship was releasing a real, new, potential spot in the Andromeda Galaxy that could be colonized, and those who competed would be the only ones to get the planet to their game’s systems.
Even if I don’t win, I need to be there.
Vee snagged her wristcon, swiped her fingerprints, and logged on to the network. She brought up the contract and saw her signature at the bottom of each page.
But the caveat…
It was really strange.
Nightheart came to mind. She shivered. The caveatwasa bizarre one and hard to wrap her mind around, though it wasn’t unreasonable.
