Auntie toasts the VRMMORPG

2.5. The Woes of Gods

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Evailyn

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Familiar stained glass windows depicting home appliances colored the workshop in soft lights. A perpendicular wall with screens provided the only other source of light.

Evailyn sat in front of her monitoring wall. Dozens of small screens displaying her churches and favorite followers surrounded the central monitor with a close up of Flora's disgusted facial expression.

Currently, her poor Champion collected the paperwork of the clergy while Aito and Aidan digitalized the handwritten scrolls with pageturners.

The quest was a mess. Evailyn gave it to Flora under the assumption that a bit of dusting would be necessary to clean up the church−not pest control. Shame and humiliation coursed through her. She had wanted to impress Flora. She wanted to be a good host.

Her work on AI politics was more important than virtual storylines, so she had neglected to watch over the church. Nonetheless, if her in-game facilities declined, her allotted computational power would be taken away, and she would lose the respect of her fellow AIs even more.

A soft chime rang.

"Come in," she called after confirming who the visitor was. Metaitron! Just the guy, she wanted to chew out.

"I'm sorry, dear." The dark-haired angel said, his white wings folded as small as possible to navigate between the cramped workbenches–or maybe to appear non-confrontational.

"Sorry, doesn't cut it. You poached my Pope! I have lent you the Champion spot in good FAITH, and this is how you repay me?"

"It wasn't me, but my ingrate former Champion. I have no more power over my followers than you do. In fact, I have less influence over them. Most of my followers are players and don't even worship me, but their earthling god." Metaitron leaned on the wall. He still hadn't figured out how to sit with his wings on a couch. Usually, he appeared to his churches as a booming voice coming out of a cloud of light. He donned the Alan-Rickman-Dogma-Skin only for people who appreciated it, like Evailyn.

Evailyn gritted her teeth but had to concede this point. "Anyway, you owe me one."

"Let's make it two favors." Metaitron smiled wrily. "The Christian Churches are in an uproar. The Catholics can't accept losing the Champion, so they forced the Mormon Champion to enter the fray. Now all Christian Churches will compete for the class. They are pressuring System to allow two champions under one godly power. The Muslims observe. If System agrees, you can bet on them joining the quest, too. The Sunnis aren't happy that the current Islamic Champion is a Shia and want to claim a second Champion or at least take the class away from the Shia."

"So the little Champion quest Flowing Flowers has to win is not her against the hopefuls of a few minor churches, but has the potential to include all the major human religions? What a cluster *bleep*. You owe me the two favors, AND you have to dissuade System from giving several Champion spots to you."

"If it were that easy, I would have already done it. The Bosses want to avoid a schism. Already, they are regretting their decision to include RL religions in the Cetviwos. They don't want to have even more AIs associated with RL factions. If getting a Champion is the solution for the Catholics not jumping the Christianity ship, the Bosses might take it."

"I don't envy you. Christianity has to be the worst mess."

"I not sure. I had a pissing contest with Prophait about who of us has the worst lot, and he made some good points about the different Islamic denominations he has to appease." Metaitron shrugged and got ready to leave. "I have places to be and waves to smooth. I hope you'll accept my apology."