by Anthology
Zeus let loose another lightning bolt. This one lit the polyester beige rug in the living room on fire, and the smoke alarm began to wail. Bang bang bang came from the ceiling—his upstairs neighbor’s response to any untoward sounds.
No. Breathe. This wasn’t worth getting worked up over. He could handle himself before he was blinded with the red rage. The last thing he wanted to do was repeat last time, when he spent a millennia in the Court of the Gods’ prison after murdering the other weather gods for their powers. So it was fine when he killed his own dad, but stupid foreigners were now a problem? And sentenced there by Themis, of all people. Goddess of justice from his own pantheon. Ex-wife. Vindictive bitch.
But that was the past. Now, he’d been making progress in therapy. It wasn’t worth it.
Breathe. Every breath was tinged with the smell of scorched plastic. That asshole wasn’t worth it. Just some young idiot god who thought he was on top.
Zeus’ pulse slowed. He gathered two more storm clouds and put out the new fires with a splash, then surveyed the damage. The condo was a wreck. Gaping holes in the walls from the wiring project grew soggy with buckling plaster from the water damage. There were smears of smoke damage everywhere; and both the battery in his living room and the bulk of his kitchen were not much more than twisted pieces of charred devastation. Half of the living room rug was unburned, but it was squelchy at best. At least it wasn’t all beige anymore.
He was committed to making a new start, he reminded himself. Possibly not in this particular condo anymore. But that little asshole did have to learn that it was just not okay to come in and burn another god’s house down.
In the old days he would have hunted him down and found a horrific punishment that vastly outweighed the crime. Probably he’d encase the little asshole in the trunk of a tree and leave him to rot for a few hundred years. Maybe put some of Nit’s hippie followers around him for good measure. But that was the old Zeus. He was putting the anger behind him, not falling back into old patterns. He exhaled. He would take Tekhno to the Court of the Gods and sue for damages or something. Following the rules was part of the fresh start. He could do this.
*
When the Court of the Gods was initially designed, all the gods felt like they had to have a say in how it looked and how it worked. Eventually, as massive group projects are wont to go, those loudest about bureaucracy won the battle of how it worked, and those loudest about aesthetics saw the abomination of design that had been born out of their committee and wanted to go hang themselves.
Up Zeus went to the mishmash of architectures from cultures worldwide. Had he possessed any aesthetic sensibilities beyond “not all beige,” he would have cringed, but he was not overburdened with such gifts. The Court was its usual bustle, with deities from a plethora of pantheons going in and out via their preferred travel mechanisms on air, land, water, and fire. Gods waited in long lines which snaked into the massive labyrinthine corridors, and politely ignored each other in a distinct haze of bored irritation.
Zeus had never liked the Court of the Gods.
He wound his way through halls that led upstairs to go downstairs and halls that looped in onthemselves to go upside down until he found the Justice Wing. And after about eighteen hours of waiting in line, during which he frequently returned to deep breathing and repeating gratitudes (it would not be beneficial to shoot lightning in here), he made his slow way toward the desk. When he saw the deity behind it, he stifled a groan. The God of Bureaucracy itself, whose name was a long acronym that he’d never bothered to learn, stiffened itself up and gave a forced smile.
The God of Bureaucracy, whom Zeus secretly thought of as Gob, was also the product of a committee. Unlike most gods it had no specified gender identity, for the committee was unable to decide on one. It had one of those faces that you would immediately forget upon looking away—something bland and generic, and yet entirely unappealing. Its paper-white skin always looked smudged with black and red ink.
“Welcome-to-the-Court-of-the-Gods-how-may-I-help-you?” Gob said in a bored monotone.
Zeus had a newfound irritation for my-name-is-Grace. “I’d like to file a complaint against Tekhno. And also a restraining order against him. And sue for damages. And also…um…all the other things I can do to keep him away.”
Gob was simultaneously stamping, marking, and stapling papers, which it filed in different compartments under its desk. “And what is the nature of your complaint?” it droned.
“He wrecked my house.”
Gob reached underneath the desk and brought out a thick stack of papers. “Fill these out. Don’t forget to add in whether you live in a castle, mansion, tree house, submerged vehicle, spider web, volcano, recreational vehicle, etc. on pages one through three. Detail the nature of the wreckage, including approximate psychic value on all items destroyed and approximate impairment value of all items that were damaged, on pages four through twelve. The nature of your relationship with the subject goes on pages thirteen through twenty nine, and the specifics of your encounter go on pages thirty through fifty three.”
Zeus thumbed through the stack of papers. There were at least two hundred pages. “And the rest?”
“You fill it out in quadruplicate, and then the last copy is for you to keep for your records. Next,” it barked towards the line of gods in its same nasally tone. Gob’s hands hadn’t stopped moving as it talked. It alternated between stamps that said “DENIED,” “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” and “ESCALATED,” thumping each one on a never-ending parade of paper forms.
“Wait, waitaminute. I’m not done. Is this really all necessary to file a complaint?”
“Necessary, but not sufficient. When you’re done with these forms, go to the undercorridor of the Justice Wing and give them to filing. They’ll give you the filing forms, and the notification forms, and the scribing documents—”
“Are you kidding me with all this? Is there nothing simpler I could do? Perhaps just this once?” Zeus flashed his most winning smile. Maybe Gob could be charmed?
The deity’s stoic expression remained unchanged. Nope, not an effective strategy. “Sir, for the goals you have stated you must go through the proper procedures. No exceptions. Next!”
“Wait wait wait!” Zeus planted his hands on the desk, and looked over his shoulder to give a warning look to the goddess standing behind him in line, who’d begun to inch forwards hopefully. “What would be the quickest thing I could do if I wanted to get another god off my back?”
Gob rolled its white eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “If you want to be uncivilized about it, you can just challenge them to a duel. Winner gets to determine what the loser has to do. But that’s merely left over from an archaic law in the books. We’ve evolved far past such barbarities. I would strongly suggest that instead, you—”
“Duel. Got it.” Zeus felt more energized than he had in years. “Right. How do I do that?” In the old days, he’d just done what he felt like. But, fresh start. He’d follow the rules.
Gob pursed its stained lips. “Go to neutral ground and yell out your challenge. But I must strongly suggest you take a more…official route.”
Zeus took one last look at the papers that sat piled on Gob’s desk. “Nah, I’m good.”
*
The Court of the Gods had several outdoor courtyards, each of a different climate and foliage (or lack thereof). Technically the court was neutral territory, so this should be as good a place as any. Zeus planted himself in the middle of a Mediterranean-looking courtyard. A long rectangle of grass was dotted with occasional marble benches and surrounded by cypress and eucalyptus trees. He inhaled deeply—it smelled like home. But this was not the time.
“Tekhno! I challenge you!” he roared at the top of his lungs. The grass flattened and the trees snapped backward before they sprang up again. It had been years since he’d gotten in a really good roar.
Within seconds, Tekhno, a goddess in a toga, and an enormous crowd appeared. Not just an
y goddess—it was Themis. SHIT.
She stepped forward. “A challenge has been issued! As the justice deity on shift, I will be the judge and referee. Tekhno, as the challenged, you may choose the field of battle.”
Tekhno looked smug. His lips twitched into a sneer as he said, “Old man, you really think this is a good idea? I’ll tell you what—I’ll even give you a chance to take it back.” Electronics glittered and blinked up and down the god’s skinny body in ever-changing patterns, held together by very neat lines of wires. No tangles here.
Zeus narrowed his eyes. “I should offer you the same.”
“Very well, it’s your funeral.” What a self-satisfied asshole. “For our battlefield, I choose…the internet.”
The what now? Oh wait, Esther from the retirement complex had mentioned that at one point. She’d been using it to keep in touch with her grandkids. She said they sent her pictures. How was that a battlefield?
“In fact,” Tekhno continued, turning to the audience with a grandiose gesture, “I’ll even give the old man an hour in advance, to get to know the field. Because I’m all magnanimous and shit.”
Themis nodded, and raised her arms. The Mediterranean courtyard transformed with a whoosh. A laminate floor pushed aside the grass, low gray cloth-covered walls sprouted from below, two marble benches morphed into two wood desks, and two more benches shifted into office chairs. A laptop appeared on each desk, cables coiling down towards outlets and ports on the walls.
“After you.” Tekhno gestured with an evil grin. Zeus took in the audience, who was still looking on in eager anticipation. Who in the hells were all these people? He recognized a few deities within the ranks. Didn’t matter. He was Zeus, once king of the gods. He could take this little pipsqueak in whatever shit he tried to pull. He sat down in one of the office chairs. It squeaked, and Tekhnosmirked.
“Tekhno has given Zeus one hour’s head start. The battlefield is the internet. As the judge, I decree that the winner is determined by the perception of the internet denizens: the god who they like most at the end is the winner. As there is no way to get the entire internet to agree on anything, a reasonable majority, as determined by me, will be required.” Themis gave Zeus a look. She was far from his favorite ex-wife. “Let the battle begin!”
Okay. He could do this. The screen in front of him had three icons: one labeled “Internet Explorer,” one labeled “Firefox,” and one labeled “Chrome.” “Internet Explorer” sounded a little too perfect.Tekhno giving him an extra amount of time and dangling that in front of him? Not a chance—it had to be a trap. He’d never had good experiences with foxes. Those Japanese buggers in particular were tricky little beasts—so Chrome it was. He quickly figured out how to use the mouse and clicked it. The audience cheered in approval and Tekhno frowned. Good, he must be on the right track.
He might be old. He might be retired. But Zeus was nothing if not clever. Within minutes, he’d figured it out and was clicking links with abandon.
People were posting on forums and social media, writing articles and blog posts, and all just…talking to each other. A lot of the discussion was through images with bold text over them, and tiny bits of moving pictures. Well, that was easy enough. Zeus started posting comments to random conversations, interjecting “Zeus rocks!” wherever he could find. He also figured out how to take a picture of himself on the laptop camera, put “Zeus rocks!” on top of the image, and started posting that too. This might take a while.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tekhno sitting down in the spot next to him. Had it been an hour already? Mucking about online certainly didn’t seem like it had taken that long. They were seated next to each other, desks set up so they could see each other’s screens.
“Aw, you’re figuring out what lolcats are. That’s adorable.” Tekhno’s voice was loud enough to carry to the audience, who rippled with an approving chuckle.
Lolcats? There were cats everywhere on this weird internet thing. He looked it up, wishing he could call in a favor from Bast, former cat-goddess of Egypt, but he was pretty sure she was still pissed at him. Had he promised her they’d do dinner? He probably had…
“He thinks posting in conversations is enough to get people to like him! Oh that’s cute. Heycloudypants, whatcha gonna do if I do this?”
A sudden swarm of new users appeared in the same forums and social media hashtags where Zeus had been posting. “Zeus sucks!” was the common refrain, and they were everywhere.
Fine. He was Zeus. He was clever enough to defeat Cronus, so he certainly could do this. They likedlolcats? He could give them cats. He transformed himself into a cat with cloud-like markings on his sides. CLICK CLICK CLICK. He took picture after picture of himself in different poses, then changed back to his usual form and uploaded them everywhere.
CLOUDY CAT RAINS ON YOUR PARADE
RAINING CATS, NOT DOGS
DESTROY THE COUCH? SORRY, I’LL HAVE TO GET A RAIN-CHECK
I’VE GOT YOUR SILVER LINING RIGHT HERE
It was working. The pictures spread online, and cloudy cat became a meme. Zeus glanced over to what Tekhno was doing. His screen had lines and lines of gobbledygook—no language Zeus had ever seen before, though there were occasional words in there he could make out.
Whatever. When people started making their own cloudy cat memes (WHEN IT RAINS IT PURRS) and started producing shirts and bumper stickers, he figured it was good enough. He stood up and yelled, “Behold, the might of Zeus! I am cloudy cat, and the internet loves me. Themis, declare it!”
Tekhno laughed. “Aw, you really ARE adorable. Getting a meme going in so short a time isn’t bad, I’ll grant you that. But it’s nothing in comparison to this.” He hit a button on his keyboard.
Zeus waited. Nothing seemed to happen. “And?”
“I’ve now taken over the web. I’ve hacked into the largest ISPs on earth, and started routing traffic my own way. People trying to go to Google are going to my own Google spoof site, where every returned link informs them that Zeus sucks. Rotten Tomatoes? The hottest thing on it is a movie called ‘Zeus’…guess what. It sucks.” He giggled. “I’ve made Facebook and Twitter swap everybody’s profile picture with an image that says ‘Zeus sucks.’ Reddit’s front page is overflowing with links about how Zeus sucks. Every mobile phone worldwide is getting a text that says ‘Zeus sucks.’ Are you getting the picture?”
Zeus poked around online. “Zeus sucks” was everywhere. It far outweighed anything cloudy cat could reach. No. This was awful—Tekhno was young and flush with power, and he remembered what happened when young and powerful gods won. He used to be that guy.
“Uh oh!” crowed Tekhno, his visor glittering with LEDs. “Now every digital traffic sign, airport announcement board, and even every connected coffee maker is displaying the words ‘Zeus sucks.’”
Themis smiled. “That seems pretty definitive to me. You have 10…9…” The audience started counting down along with her.
This punk was going to want to humiliate him. And probably do something way worse than try to chain Zeus to a rock and have his liver eaten every day. Worse than killing him. Worse than humiliating him in front of Themis.
The bubble of rage swelled in Zeus’ chest and he stood up with a roar. NOBODY got the best of Zeus. He was the king of the gods, slayer of Cronus! He reached for Tekhno’s neck, and—
“Physical harm to your opponent is out of bounds for this challenge,” chirped Themis. “6…5…”
Breathe. Anger is not constructive. Find your gratitudes or an outlet for the anger. An outlet…
And there it was. Two tiny outlets at the bottom of the low gray walls. Zeus yanked out the two laptop cables with a swoop, and shoved in as much raw lightning power as he could.
Extra juice surged through the wires, which were metaphysically connected to the entirety of the earth’s electrical grid, which overloaded. Around the world, cell towers shut off, servers died, and equipment went dark in quick succession. And as wires
shorted out and blackouts rolled across the world, humanity en mass glared at their suddenly-disconnected cell phones and dead screens and grumbled, “What is this piece of shit?”
“2…1…Well, that was unexpected,” said Themis, “but in a last-minute turn, I declare Zeus the winner.” An amused smile played on her face, and with a wave of her arms she dissolved the arena, the crowds, the computers, and the low walls. The elements of a eucalyptus-scented Mediterranean courtyard rushed in from all directions to fill the empty space.
“What? Are you kidding me?” screamed Tekhno. “That’s cheating! The battlefield was the internet!” He stamped his foot like a petulant child.
Themis walked over to Tekhno, growing with every step until she dwarfed him. Arms akimbo, she said, “And he disabled the internet, making far more people hate you than you had them hating him. Do you care to challenge the ruling? You know, the one from the IMPARTIAL GODDESS OF JUSTICE?” She stared him down. Zeus remembered that look, and was distinctly relieved to not be its target for once. It could strip the leaves right off a laurel wreath.
Tekhno winced and looked away. Hah. The kid couldn’t handle it. “Nothatsfine” he mumbled.
“Very well. As the winner of the challenge, Zeus may claim his prize.” She made another gesture, and Gob appeared with a stack of paperwork. The god had its usual puckered look on its face.
Zeus tamped down a shudder at the papers. But his award. He hadn’t even thought that far ahead! He could take whatever he wanted. He could strip Tekhno of everything he owned, everything he could do! He could be back, most powerful god once more! And he could….
He saw Tekhno’s scared face, and remembered Sisyphus and Prometheus, Thor and Raijin and the Thunderbird, and all the others he’d punished over the years. No. No falling back into the old patterns. Powerful Zeus lashed out, and he didn’t want to be that person anymore.
But he didn’t have to roll over and take it, either.