When Margaret wished, for the seventeenth time that Tuesday, for something, anything, to pull her away from chauvinistic, pig-headed contractors, she really hadn't had this in mind. Instead of the conference room that hosted her headaches more often than not, Margaret found herself in a very peculiar situation. Slowly rotating beneath her was a planet. A planet that was very much not Earth. Above her, the kaleidoscope of the cosmos dazzled in far more colors than she was used to seeing. All around her, floating in fuzzy spheres of light much like the one she currently occupied, was a host of other people, varied as the stars above.

There was so much to take in that Margaret couldn't focus on any one thing, her mind bouncing from one thought to another much too fast to even be properly afraid. Eventually, the planet below drew her attention the most, and she became mesmerized by the curve of the coastlines, the colors of forests and plains, and other, curiously odd areas.

When the text appeared in front of her face, Margaret nearly lost her shell-shocked calm.

'Attention, Conscript: Before you lies Territory MS-1634, a minor resource/supply planet belonging to the Pantheon. Recently, the planet has been infected by saboteurs attempting to destabilize our system. Since this is only a minor territory, it is not prudent to send Pantheon resources to clear the infection. As such, we have randomly selected 2,000 conscripts from your planet Earth to clear the infection for us. This is the function your planet has served for the Pantheon over the last several millennia. You are free to use any resources that you can claim to support your mission. A Pantheon Interface and Assistant program has been added to your central nervous system to aid you. Clear the infection, and you will be granted a return trip to Earth. Failure will not be tolerated.'

Margaret read the text two and a half times before it vanished, a 3-d model of the planet below replacing it. The model was covered in glowing blue points.

'Choose your starting zone. Only one conscript will be sent to each zone.'

There was a short period of stillness, then the points on the model began to blink out. Rapidly. Hurriedly, Margaret tapped a point near a river delta she'd admired on the planet.

A display appeared that read:

34.237/-63.927

Geography: Fertile river delta Temperate forest Coastline Natural resources: Timber Farmland Abundant fishing Assets: City (Elvish, Population: 342,1....

Suddenly, the text went grey and was overlaid with a massive, all-caps 'CLAIMED'.

Margaret watched in horror as the points on the map rapidly dwindled. She tapped another spot near some of the interesting geography she'd seen on the planet and searched the display for a CLAIM button, ignoring the other text. Frustrated, she shouted, "Claim!"

Apparently, voice commands worked. The screen changed to CLAIMED, faded out, and then Margaret found her orb rapidly approaching the planet. The preternatural calm she'd felt until now evaporated, and Margaret's descent to the planet was accompanied by eyes clenched shut and frantic screaming.

Margaret finally stopped screaming when she was unceremoniously dropped on the ground, her sphere dissipating. The final drop was only about 6 inches, but Margaret was wholly unprepared. She windmilled like someone missing the last step on a staircase before landing on her face, rear in the air.

"Owww," she groaned.

Instead of standing, Margaret rolled onto her back and stared at the sky, where she'd just been mere seconds before.

'I understand being conscripted is a bit... jarring, but you may want to get to your feet quickly.'

"Who-wh-what is that?" Margaret whispered to herself as she pushed up to a sitting position. The voice had sounded crystal clear, but she couldn't tell what direction it had come from at all.

'I am your Pantheon Interface and Assistance program. I was installed and activated to ease your transition to a proper Pantheon world. As I was saying, all conscript starting zones are located at a shrine or temple to a member of the Pantheon. As such, odds are quite reasonable that there will be natives of this planet at or near this location. It would be prudent to be cautious.'

The word natives got Margaret to her feet in record time. She immediately located the shrine, which was easy since she had landed within feet of it. The shrine was small, aged, and worn. Set into a stone recess, almost a grotto, in the side of a large hill, the shrine had a small wooden roof over a rounded, man-sized stone covered in what probably used to be intricately carved symbols. Time was working to reclaim the whole thing as moss grew on the stone and roof alike.

Shrine located, Margaret examined the rest of her surroundings. The hill looming over the shrine was tall, much taller than the surrounding trees. The trees were a mix of towering oaks, at least a hundred feet tall, with trunks from four to six feet wide, and shorter trees with umbrella-like foliage dotted with white flowers. The trees covered the hill with the shrine and the base of some other hills she could spot through the forest, making it impossible to see just how high they went.

Somewhere nearby, a river or creek ran over rocks, the gentle sound of water splashing reminding Margaret that she hadn't taken a restroom break yet this morning. A slightly overgrown path wound its way away from the shrine into the trees.

'Ah, that's better. With environmental data, I am better able to provide you with proper guidance.'

Margaret thought the voice sounded a bit like a college girl teaching a lesson to second graders. She was used to condescending male voices of all ages, but condescending girl younger than her was a new one. She decided to let that slide for now.

'So, I detected no signs of hostile activity in your visual scan of the surroundings. Very thorough, by the way. Well done. Auditory data indicates a natural flow of water in the direction of that trail, running perpendicular to the trail from right to left.'

"Wait, wait, wait. I did a good job looking around? I don't need sympathy praise, thank you very much. I get... got enough of that at work. 'Great job with that site survey, Margaret. Why don't I handle the design on this one?' or 'Hey, that mock-up looks great! Let's just have Dave give it a once over, okay?'. Kill me know if some... disembodied voice treats me the same way."

The voice was silent for a moment. 'It seems that I have upset you, I'm very sorry about that. I was giving honest feedback with my comment. Since I'm tied to your nervous system, I have the same visual input that you have, though I can process it much faster and more thoroughly. It is a limitation on my simple system.'

"So, you're saying that you only see what I see?"

'Yes, and I thought it might... irritate you if I had to ask you to look in certain directions.'

"Hmm, that's... fairly considerate, thank you."

'You're welcome, happy to help!' The voice actually sounded relieved and pleased.

Margaret thought for a moment, then sat down on the stone at the base of the shrine. "Cause talking to myself while sitting looks so much better than talking to myself while standing..." she muttered.

'Oh, it's totally normal. Everyone on Pantheon worlds, well, proper Pantheon worlds speak commands to their system.'

"And is this a 'proper' Pantheon world?"

'Eh, no. Not so much.'

"So. What do you know about me, since you are in... part of... how do you work, now?"

'I am installed as an additional layer to your central nervous system. Most of my system is organic in nature, but not all. I am powered by your metabolic processes, so I apologize if you require slightly more caloric intake than before.'

"Actually, that might be the silver lining here. How-when did they... install you?"

'Oh, the process is quite simple, a single injection and my system grows itself in minutes. I have very basic base programming that's developed into a full assistant based on your knowledge, memories, and preferences.'

"Right, so what do you know about me?"

'You're Margaret Emily Stevens. Only child. Raised in a small town in Indiana, moved to Boston because you wanted to make it in the big city, but not the biggest city. Graduated from college as a structural engineer, passed the certification exam, and found employment at a large architectural firm.

'Gender: Female, Age: twenty-seven, Height: five feet and seven inches, Weight: one hundred and-'

"Yup, good. Good. No need to... verbalize... that.

'It's nothing to be ashamed about. Why, supposedly, many people gain fifteen pounds in college, and you only gained-'

"Uh-huh, I'm well aware. I need to understand what's going on here. What is Pantheon? Why am I here? What's an 'infection'? How am I supposed to kill it?"

'I am able to answer your questions, however, a full response to all of them would likely take several hours, and I don't believe it would be wise to stay in this location that long without securing a means of defending yourself. Would you like me to fully answer one question or give an abbreviated answer to all of them?'

Margaret thought for a moment. "All of them, briefly. Thorough later?"

'Okay! The Pantheon is the name of an interplanetary alliance between several powerful, spacefaring civilizations. This planet is one of their many territories, but not a strategically significant one.

'You are here because the Pantheon uses human beings from Earth from time-to-time as a supplementary fighting force. It's a bit of a gamble, but transporting beings alone from one planet to another is basically a free action for the Pantheon, so they often conscript from your planet to try to solve small problems before they grow large enough to force proper Pantheon intervention. If you humans are successful, it saves them considerable resources.

'Infections come in different forms, but it is always a rogue system attempting to siphon energy from the planet before it is sent off to the Pantheon.

'The infection will be well guarded, so combat is almost always required. It is unclear how many infected nodes there will be on this world, but destroying them all will meet the Pantheon requirements for victory.'

Margaret was silent while she processed. "This planet is a farm, the Pantheon is the intergalactic farmer, they've got a mouse problem, and the other humans and I have been dumped here like a pile of stray cats to clear out the mice. Sound about right?"

'Actually, yes.'