07-17-2014, 10:00 AM
He walked the streets, conscious of the weight in his backpack. Even though it was a standard 500PB weighing in at less than half a pound, the weight of it was palpable, as if each qubit of data weighed in at a pound and the combined weight was about to topple him. All in your mind, he thought as he watched the faces of the people he passed. It was 4pm and he was walking to the metro. The sun had gone down past the building’s heights but he estimated that it wouldn’t get dark for another hour or two. Despite his assurances, he was nervous. On his back he had proof of a clandestine organization that went back…honestly, he had no idea how far it went back, no idea of the extent of its power. All he had to go on was a stupid movie series from his childhood.
Reborn gods… The term echoed through his mind as he boarded the train. Those who could use magic were spoken of as reborn gods. Hayden had been a great kid and had turned into a good man before the end. But it was hard to think of your son as a ‘god’ in that sense. And Ayden too. She was a complicated woman, but a woman nonetheless. He didn’t think he’d fallen in love with a goddess- well she was a goddess to him only because of what she meant to him. But in the strict definition of the word…He paused. Was there such a thing? What did it mean to be a god anyway? Not God, not the creator. His mind flashed back to the mythologies he’d learned about as a kid. They were gods, but not in the Judeo-Christian sense, a perfect, omniscient loving Creator who ran the universe.
No, the gods of myth were every bit as petty and insecure as any human. What made them gods was the fact that they had power and were immortal. Could it be? Were those myths and legends really just distortions of stories of people with power, people like Hayden, Giovanni, Jensen and Ayden? The realization was like a smack in the face. Duh! It made perfect sense. Obviously someone with that kind of power would be looked at as a god. They would be worshipped even. And then he remembered that saying about power corrupting. He had to admit that power of that nature could play a role in inflating ones ego, in causing a person to forget compassion and humanity.
He remembered the myths of “heroes” like Hercules or Zeus or even the ‘wise’ Athena. Hercules carried on affairs- or maybe killed one of his wives, he couldn’t really remember. Zeus had affair after affair, even pretended to be husbands. And there was at least one story about him nailing a goose. And ‘wise’ Athena? Who got so pissed at that one woman who spun cloth so well that people were saying she was better than her? She challenged Arachne to a contest and when she lost, turned her into a spider. Come to think of it Apollos did the same with some flute player. When the guy lost, he had him skinned or something.
While just myths, he could easily see that behind those myths were very normal but powerful humans whose power had let them plumb the depths of depravity. Of course, that didn’t excuse the Atharim for just exterminating people who had the power- them and their families. You didn’t have the right to preemptively kill someone just because they might do something in the future. Hayden was not a bad kid and would not have done those kinds of things. He was his father. He had raised him. He knew him better than anyone. They didn’t have that right, he thought angrily. Was it possible the Atharim went back that far? Had they been around for centuries?
His eyes focused and caught site of a subway ad display. There was an exhibit at the Pushkin Museum of Art about ancient gods, on loan before going on to Paris. Suddenly, he felt like he wanted to see it. Ayden was probably still at home sleeping. He had some time. And he just…he wasn’t sure but he really wanted to see the exhibit. He wasn’t really sure why. He figured out what stop he should take and after one more train ride and then a walk of a couple blocks, he found himself outside the museum. He felt drawn inside.
After getting in and wandering around, he found his way to the exhibit and just began wandering. He’d seen antiquities before, had seen old sculptures and tombs, frescos and jewelry. But this time, every display he saw that spoke of this god or that goddess made him pause. Was he looking at a distant memory of realities? Was Achilles real? Ares? Hades?
One of the displays was interesting because, according to the description, the tomb belonged to a man who had later proclaimed himself a god. There was a long story that went with it: Humble beginnings; taking power; worship and adulation. And then, betrayal by his new bride, quick death by poison. On the tomb were a bunch of carvings, including a snake eating its own tail. He vaguely remembered that from history class. An old symbol of eternity, if he remembered right. There was always something about snakes and eternity.
He read the details of the story again, heedless of the people around him. Was this one of those ‘reborn gods’ the Atharim referred to? “Fucking Athatrim!”
His head jerked around and he was staring at a short woman, dark hair in a ponytail.
He looked at her, the shock on his face. "What was that!?”
Reborn gods… The term echoed through his mind as he boarded the train. Those who could use magic were spoken of as reborn gods. Hayden had been a great kid and had turned into a good man before the end. But it was hard to think of your son as a ‘god’ in that sense. And Ayden too. She was a complicated woman, but a woman nonetheless. He didn’t think he’d fallen in love with a goddess- well she was a goddess to him only because of what she meant to him. But in the strict definition of the word…He paused. Was there such a thing? What did it mean to be a god anyway? Not God, not the creator. His mind flashed back to the mythologies he’d learned about as a kid. They were gods, but not in the Judeo-Christian sense, a perfect, omniscient loving Creator who ran the universe.
No, the gods of myth were every bit as petty and insecure as any human. What made them gods was the fact that they had power and were immortal. Could it be? Were those myths and legends really just distortions of stories of people with power, people like Hayden, Giovanni, Jensen and Ayden? The realization was like a smack in the face. Duh! It made perfect sense. Obviously someone with that kind of power would be looked at as a god. They would be worshipped even. And then he remembered that saying about power corrupting. He had to admit that power of that nature could play a role in inflating ones ego, in causing a person to forget compassion and humanity.
He remembered the myths of “heroes” like Hercules or Zeus or even the ‘wise’ Athena. Hercules carried on affairs- or maybe killed one of his wives, he couldn’t really remember. Zeus had affair after affair, even pretended to be husbands. And there was at least one story about him nailing a goose. And ‘wise’ Athena? Who got so pissed at that one woman who spun cloth so well that people were saying she was better than her? She challenged Arachne to a contest and when she lost, turned her into a spider. Come to think of it Apollos did the same with some flute player. When the guy lost, he had him skinned or something.
While just myths, he could easily see that behind those myths were very normal but powerful humans whose power had let them plumb the depths of depravity. Of course, that didn’t excuse the Atharim for just exterminating people who had the power- them and their families. You didn’t have the right to preemptively kill someone just because they might do something in the future. Hayden was not a bad kid and would not have done those kinds of things. He was his father. He had raised him. He knew him better than anyone. They didn’t have that right, he thought angrily. Was it possible the Atharim went back that far? Had they been around for centuries?
His eyes focused and caught site of a subway ad display. There was an exhibit at the Pushkin Museum of Art about ancient gods, on loan before going on to Paris. Suddenly, he felt like he wanted to see it. Ayden was probably still at home sleeping. He had some time. And he just…he wasn’t sure but he really wanted to see the exhibit. He wasn’t really sure why. He figured out what stop he should take and after one more train ride and then a walk of a couple blocks, he found himself outside the museum. He felt drawn inside.
After getting in and wandering around, he found his way to the exhibit and just began wandering. He’d seen antiquities before, had seen old sculptures and tombs, frescos and jewelry. But this time, every display he saw that spoke of this god or that goddess made him pause. Was he looking at a distant memory of realities? Was Achilles real? Ares? Hades?
One of the displays was interesting because, according to the description, the tomb belonged to a man who had later proclaimed himself a god. There was a long story that went with it: Humble beginnings; taking power; worship and adulation. And then, betrayal by his new bride, quick death by poison. On the tomb were a bunch of carvings, including a snake eating its own tail. He vaguely remembered that from history class. An old symbol of eternity, if he remembered right. There was always something about snakes and eternity.
He read the details of the story again, heedless of the people around him. Was this one of those ‘reborn gods’ the Atharim referred to? “Fucking Athatrim!”
His head jerked around and he was staring at a short woman, dark hair in a ponytail.
He looked at her, the shock on his face. "What was that!?”