My ability was my only secret. It came as a gift from a mysterious forum user who followed my blog about my college experience. Their username was _moderator_of_the_world_, and they sent me an unsolicited message that said, "Next time you shake hands with someone who attracts you, concentrate mentally on their genitals. You don't have to actually look, just concentrate. You're welcome."
At first I assumed it was someone disturbed, deleted the message, and forgot about it. But when a painfully cute girl introduced herself to me in the introductory physics class for which I TA'd, the user's message intruded, unbidden, into my consciousness. I tried to push the thought away, but what happens when you try not to think of a fire truck? Suddenly I was involuntarily fixated on an image of this freshman slipping off her underwear, which was when my secret ability revealed itself.
She came. During our handshake. It was obvious. Her blush, her subtle moan, the collapsing in of her knees by just an inch, the incredible grip force with which she suddenly squeezed my hand.
That time, it was an accident. The next several times, if I can be forgiven for them, I was testing my sanity. Could I really have acquired an unnatural power? All it took was skin contact and my intent, and I could move someone's level of arousal up or down at the speed of thought. I could translate their arousal along other axes too, but the effects of those axes were too complex for me to understand.
A few years after I'd stopped using this power, because I thought it was too intrusive, the forum user who'd given it to me reached out again. They shipped me a small case with a few of what looked like trading cards. One of them featured an illustration of me, and the others had empty frames where a character illustration would go.
An accompanying note said, "Your universe has finished loading the experimental conditions. The exercise will now begin. Thank you for participating in our research." Also in the envelope was a printed and stapled document titled _Emulated Humans' Rights: Know Your Entitlements as a Sentient Program.
I might have appreciated the user's schtick, playing the character of a moderator sitting at a desk in the real world, playing god over the world in which we lived, if I didn't know that it wasn't a schtick. Having been given unnatural powers by the moderator already, that document stirred horror in me.
I skimmed it. Being an emulated human was not all bad. It came with some promising rights, the first of which was The Right of Freedom from the Simulation of Lives > 1 Standard Deviation to the Right in Total Suffering. Apparently kidnappings, trafficking, defensive wars, and a long list of other fates I might otherwise have worried about, all of them exceeded the legal limit of suffering.
Also in the package was an instruction booklet.
> Win condition: Establish a world government operated by a harem of reluctant exhibitionists and centralize its power in yourself.
>
> Asset 1: You may grant unnatural powers unlocked in your skill tree to women of a sufficient level to wield them.
>
> Asset 2: You may pose exhibition challenges to women, from which they can earn experience points to level up if completed under conditions of informed and sober consent. Experience points are awarded in proportion to the product of the scalar values (reluctance) x (pleasure) x (time in seconds).
I seemed to have woken up inside of a porn game, which was not my vibe.
I logged onto the forum and replied to _moderator_of_the_world_. I wrote, _I appreciate the powers, but I'm not that into this type of thing. Do I have to participate?_
They replied, _You are legally entitled to decline participation. But rewards for participating in my experiment include immortality, fantasy fulfillment, and more._
_Are there any other reasons I might play? I like my life as it is, and eighty years is plenty for me._
This time, the moderator didn't respond instantly. I saw a typing bubble for a moment, but it disappeared. A few days passed, and I began to worry I'd upset the god of my universe. He could retaliate in any way. Who knew how effective policing of sentient programs' rights was?
But finally the moderator wrote back. _After consulting with our legal team, I have added a new incentive. Do you remember Mai?_
Of course I remembered her. The girl from introductory physics. That first handshake made quite an impression on her, so we made acquaintance, and I sometimes helped her with homework when she came to the professor's office hours.
The moderator sent another message. _I'll delete you if you don't level her up in the next five hours._
_That's legal?_
A few typing bubbles appeared and vanished before the reply came: _I've been advised that yes._
So, it seemed like my plans had been decided for me that Friday night.
Mai was home, and answered when I knocked on her dorm door. Even though we lived on the same campus, we hadn't seen each other in almost three years. She was a senior in the anthropology program now, and her demeanor had matured since I TA'd her class in her first year. Her posture was perfect, if somewhat rigid, and she gave the impression of someone who knew how others ought to behave.
It was just her in the dorm room. She gestured for me to sit across from her on the rug and then waited expectantly for me to explain why I'd suddenly come to see her.
Not sure how to start, I pulled out the mint tin I used to carry my joints and lit one to ease my nerves.
"Don't smoke in here," she said.
Ignoring her command for a moment (I needed the hit), I handed her one of the playing cards with an empty frame that the world moderator had shipped me. According to the instruction manual, if she decided to join my world-domination cabal of reluctant exhibitionists, her portrait would appear on the card, and this would enable her to earn experience and level up.
"There's a thought you can think," I said, "that will make you appear in the frame of that card."
She flipped it over. "It looks like they didn't finish printing this."
"Doesn't that make your curious? That there's a thought you can think that will change the ink on that card?"
"You're high."
"Joints don't work that fast. I'll be high in a minute or two."
"Well, maybe the habit's damaged your brain already."
"I'm a physics post-doc. If my brain was damaged I'd notice it in my work. Just humor me for a moment. How often did I help you in office hours?"
"That was your job. You got paid to TA."
"Okay, good counterpoint. Let me try a new angle. Can you find the generosity to humor me?"
"If you put it out," she said, pointing at the joint.
I took one more drag and ashed it in the mint tin, raised my palms in surrender. "It's out."
"What do I need to think in order to make my picture appear on the card?"
At last I'd piqued her curiosity. I said, "Step one: Imagine for a moment, as outlandish as it may seem, that I'm assembling a crew of exhibitionists with whom I will centralize global political power in one dictatorial government.
"Step two: Decide you want to join that crew."
She blinked several times. "Excuse me? What is that, a daydream from your wank bank?"
"I get that it's not appropriate for me to say something like this. But I'm not asking you to actually do anything. If you'd prefer, you can sit there, look at the card, think about whatever you want, and just lie to me and say you thought about it. But if you're curious whether what I've said is true..."
Mai set the card down on the rug. "Look," she said. "I've got plans tonight. You caught me when I was about to leave for a party."
This was my cue to leave her alone. Which that was completely fair of her to want. But my life depended on tonight yielding certain results, so I had to ask, "Luka's party?"
And, thank the moderator in heaven, it was Luka's party she was going to. I'd also been invited, so I excused myself from her dorm and went directly to the party on the first floor, where the dorms were much larger and housed six students each.