Pandora Gets Angry

by Carolyn Hennesy

  “Uh,” Alcie began.

  “Oh, of course you do! Here sit, sit!”

  Persephone playfully pushed Alcie back down on the couch and plopped beside her.

  “Maiden, meaning me, strolling in the fields. Big, dark, scary but handsome-in-a-pale-kinda-way god, Buster—oops, that’s his nickname—I mean Hades, sees me, falls in love, and drives his chariot up through the earth from the underworld and kidnaps me, yeah, yeah. Brings me back down here, marries me—I know, like I had a choice—and then my mom, Demeter, Glorious Earth Mother, starts looking for me, can’t find me, blights the earth with winter all year long. Bad news for mankind. Then there’s this whole pomegranate-seed incident, and finally Zeus decrees that I spend six months up there, which makes Mom happy, and that’s why you mortals have … c’mon, say it …”

  “Uh, spring and summer?” Alcie said.

  “Right! And six months down here, Mom gets weepy, and you guys get …?”

  “Fall and winter.”

  “Right! Okay, whatever, right? My mother and my husband are fighting over me … weird, huh? I know! Talk about issues, I got ’em! So it’s boring enough down here, but then I have to go back home and Mom won’t let me out of her sight, even for one tick on a sundial. I can’t even go to the baths alone. Mothers! I know! Absolute torture! So can I tell you—can I just tell you—how thrilled I was to find out that you were down here? Someone new and interesting to talk to! A mortal maiden who’s had a life! I just went right up and begged my mom to let me come back down for a little bit. Told her it would be to help you adjust until Hades gets you out of here, but really, it’s for me … to keep me from going stark raving mad! I know, call me selfish.”

  Alcie, in spite of the fact that this woman was obviously bonkers, started to smile.

  “Well,” she said to Persephone, “I’m really glad you did. Thanks.”

  “Are you kidding? Thank you! I mean, considering your whole death, or whatever this limbo state is that you’re in right now, was for nothing, I figured you’d need a friend, right? A good ear to talk to about what a hateful she-dog Hera is.”

  Alcie had no idea what she was hearing, exactly, but knew enough from what Persephone was saying to be shocked.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘what’? You died, or whatever, for nothing.”

  “Uh, excuse me, but I died because Aphrodite demanded a life in order to give up the golden apple with Lust hiding inside. What do you moldy olive, pardon me, mean it was for nothing? She gave the apple to Pandy, right? Pandy put Lust in the box?”

  “Well, yes, ultimately she did, but the Aphrodite you saw in the temple in Aphrodisias was really Hera in disguise, and after you were dead, or whatever, she gave Pandora a clay apple.”

  Alcie’s jaw dropped. What did this mean? Was Pandy’s quest to recapture all of the evils in the world now ruined?

  “But wait! Wait!” Persephone went on. “Then the real Aphrodite appeared with the real apple, and after Pandora set Hera on fire—”

  “HUH?”

  “I know! Yep, on fire. Mom says she’s still bald as an eagle egg. Anyway, after Zeus appeared and took Hera away, Aphrodite gave Pandora the real apple, so everything’s fine!”

  Alcie just gaped at Persephone for a long time. Then her eyes began to wander all over the room. Her thoughts were a complete jumble.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t know.”

  “How would I? No,” Alcie said softly. “No.”

  “Pandora has her dog back, so that’s good, right?”

  “She’s got Dido?” Alcie said, tears filling her eyes with no warning at all.

  “Yep! Apparently Zeus brought the dog down from Olympus himself. Mom said that Zeus told Pandora something like: if she had to lose one friend, she might as well get another back. Hera was ticked.”

  “How does your mom, I mean Demeter—”

  “Glorious Earth Mother.”

  “Huh?”

  “You have to say that after her name,” Persephone said. “Hey, I’m not making this stuff up. It’s protocol. Even I have to say it … even when it’s just her and me—and I’m her daughter! Okay, you don’t have to say it all the time, but just say it now, in case anyone is listening. Make me feel better.”

  Alcie looked at Persephone, her mouth open to say something, but she paused.

  “Okaaay,” Alcie said at last. “How does Demeter, Glorious Earth Mother, know so much about it? I mean with Hera and all?”

  “Because, they’re best friends. They do everything together. Mom and Hera are inseparable.”

  “Really?” Alcie said, a suspicion growing in her mind.

  “Really! I know!”

  Alcie was silent for a while. Then she sighed.

  “You know, I think I am hungry.”

  “Want a pomegranate?” Persephone said with a laugh. “Oh, stop me, I’m just kidding. Actually, they’re not big on vegetables and fruit down here, but if we want something dead, no problem. I don’t know what Buster has them preparing, but it’ll be something yummy. And don’t worry about the color. Everything is gray, but it’s good.”

  “Great. Can’t wait,” Alcie said. “So, you think I’m getting out of here, right?”

  “Buster says he’ll do it, so he’ll do it,” Persephone said, leading the way into the anteroom. “Look, if you’re not supposed to be here, then it will throw everything off if you stay. Stars will collide, fire will rain down, animals will start talking, and the dead will walk the earth … your earth.”

  “Really?” Alcie said, feeling bizarrely proud that she could be the cause of all of that. “Gods!”

  “I know!”

  Persephone was silent for a second, then burst out laughing.

  “I’m kidding! Please! I have no idea what will happen.” Persephone giggled, moving into the corridor. “But trust me, if you’re supposed to be topside, you will be.”

  “Pears.” Alcie sighed. “I wish I could get word to Pandy. Just to let her know I’m coming back.”

  “Oh,” Persephone said. “I can help you with that.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope. We’ll just make sure the coast is clear, and then we’ll go talk to Buster’s Big Bowl of Borrower’s Bile!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Waiting

  “Next.”

  The first few figures all began to move forward one space, but the large, blue-robed woman standing at the very head of the line didn’t budge, causing instant confusion.

  “Next.”

  Three wizened men, all wearing official red robes and caps, stood at posts behind a counter at the far end of the room: log books, maps, sightseeing brochures, visas, and date stamps at the ready. Two were still in conversation, going over policies and procedures with individuals on the other side of the counter, but one space was now open.

  “Next.”

  The vast but stuffy room was packed with immortals of every shape and size, all waiting patiently (or not) in a line that wound around itself, then stretched back out of the room and down a spiral staircase, past four floors of offices, and down into a crowded lobby. The interior of the room, which occupied the entire fifth floor of its building, was dominated by twenty-one open windows, seven each on three sides. Twenty windows were bordered by row upon row of inlaid diamonds, rubies, emeralds, topazes, amethysts, and sapphires following the curvature of the window arch. Each large gem was flawless and brilliant; the stones would catch the rays of the sun and reflect rainbows of light. But the twenty-first window was left unfinished and undecorated. When an immortal chanced to ask about the ugly window, bereft of any beauty, and why it was allowed to mar the grandeur of the room, the officials would reply that “nothing in the world should ever be perfect; it would be too much for even the immortal mind to comprehend. And, since the works of art and architecture that come closest to perfection are, of course, to be found in Baghdad, an imperfection must be built in, so that none would be driven to madness
.”

  The floor was an immense mosaic: tiny squares of colored stone and glass that were set in such a way as to depict the moment when Haroun al Rashid (the first of many), then Prince of Baghdad, received his crown.

  But many immortals didn’t bother appreciating the windows or the floor, choosing instead to spend their time in line looking up. The ceiling was a massive map, which stretched from wall to wall and laid out the entire region of Persia, including deserts, oases, cities, and seaports. The map was dotted with dozens of white, blinking lights, each one representing an immortal conducting any business in the land. Frequently, the lights would flash green and a name would appear close by, a signal that some deity had used a power, curse, or enchantment legally. Rarely, the light would flash red, indicating an illegal use of power. At that moment, the sound of much commotion and alarm bells could be heard ringing in the unseen rooms behind the great counter.

  Outside the carved white marble and bloodred porphyry doors was a unique view of the rooftops, spires, and turrets of Baghdad that no human ever saw, because the huge, ornate building housing the Bureau of Visiting Deities–Department of Permits and Visas was, in fact, floating over the city, invisible to the mortal eye (although the architects had taken care to make it perceptible to flying birds, for safety reasons).

  “Next.”

  “Hey, lady, you’re next!” came a call from Forseti, a mid-level Norse deity, two back from the front of the line. “Lady, he’s open!”

  “Next!”

  “Is it a lady?” asked a Celtic tree nymph. “Because if not, I say kick him.”

  “I believe it is,” said a small Chinese spirit, standing directly behind the sleeping figure. “Although I think she, or he, is bald, so it is difficult to tell.”

  “Shove her out of the way,” called a minor Indian god.

  From under the hooded blue cloak came a delicate snore.

  “That’s it!” said Forseti.

  “I’m gonna start screaming!” screamed Cloacina, the Roman Goddess of the Sewers.

  “Start?” sniffed Aji-Suki-Taka-Hi-Kone, covering his nose against her stench. The Japanese God of Thunder was baffled that someone or something could actually be louder than he was.

  “Oh, that’s great—just what I need—more noise,” said Alu. Even though the Mesopotamian demon had no legs, ears, or mouth, somehow everyone heard him.

  The official who had been calling out was so shriveled in size he could barely see over the flat marble countertop; he clambered on top and surveyed the crowd.

  “What’s going on?” he shouted. “No one wants a permit?”

  “This one won’t move,” called Forseti, indicating the sleeping figure in blue, then he looked at the Chinese spirit in front of him. “Give her backside a slap, why don’t you?”

  “Aren’t you Forseti?” asked the spirit. “Aren’t you the Norse God of Justice?”

  “With places to go and people to see,” he replied. “Now give her a good whack!”

  “That would be impolite,” said the spirit.

  “Poke her with a stick!” screamed Cloacina.

  “Why don’t you go stand close to her,” boomed the Japanese thunder god. “That would wake anyone.”

  “Go around her,” purred Ailuros, an Egyptian cat deity, in line off to the side.

  “The yellow line on the floor says, ‘Please do not cross until it is your turn,’ ” said the spirit.

  The snoring from under the blue cloak was now punctuated with grunts and snorts.

  “It just became your turn!” said Forseti as he picked up the Chinese spirit and threw her over the yellow line.

  Rising up off the floor, the Chinese spirit turned, her eyes narrowing into slits, her long black hair now standing on end, brushing against the high ceiling, as she summoned a magic spell to punish the one who had manhandled her. Flinging out her hands with a loud cry, the spirit produced tiny sparks at the ends of her fingers and then … nothing.

  “Fool!” laughed Cloacina.

  “You won’t get anywhere with that nonsense,” said Forseti. “You can’t. You’re forgetting, that’s why we’re all here.”

  “Oh,” said the spirit. “Of course you are correct. But you may expect to see me outside.”

  “Right. I’m frightened,” laughed the god as the spirit turned to the counter.

  A second space at the counter opened up and Forseti stepped easily around the sleeping, blue-robed woman. And then another bypassed her, then another. For the rest of the day, as other foreign immortals circumvented her without reservation, all wanting permission to practice their powers in Persia, Hera stood at the front of the line, deep in slumber.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A Full and Frank

  Exchange of Views

  Pandy’s lower body was completely encased in sand; she could still wiggle her toes, but moving her legs in the dense grit was difficult. Now, as it began to pile up and around her back and arms, she started to panic: they were all going to be buried alive. Suddenly she realized that Iole wasn’t even sitting up, the way she and Homer were; Homer had laid Iole down against the camel … on her side! Pandy began flailing her arms, trying to brush away some sand in order to free herself. She had to get to Iole, if she wasn’t already buried.

  As she freed one arm, the wind caught hold of the fabric of her cloak and nearly ripped Pandy’s arm out of its socket. Pandy was dragged almost wholly out of her sand casing and flung on her stomach, her legs pinned awkwardly and painfully underneath her. Almost immediately, the sand began covering her again. She felt Dido struggling away from her and then she felt a strong tug on the enchanted rope tied around her waist. Completely blind, her eyes shut tight, her hands now exposed as the wind tore the cloak away, she groped the air in front of her, grabbing nothing but sand and air. She didn’t even know which direction she was facing. Suddenly, the rope snapped in two and Pandy felt herself flung backward and her hand hit something hard but pliant. She felt a huge pair of hands grab for her arm and pull her slowly across the sand. Feeling her way along as Homer dragged her up and over the sand covering his own legs, Pandy’s finger touched Iole’s shoulder, and then her head, which was lolling to one side. Homer had righted her, Pandy thought, thanking the gods.

  Pandy’s clothing was now twisted against her body. As she crouched down beside Iole, the edge of the camel blanket Homer had used as a covering flew up and slapped Pandy on the side of her head, dazing her for a second. She thought she felt Dido climbing over her at one point. Then, the fraying ends of her cloak (a prize possession of her mother’s that her father had given to her the night before she began her quest) got caught up in another particularly violent gust and nearly strangled Pandy as it was blown backward before it was thrown over her head and pinned against her face, suffocating her.

  Then …

  … it all just stopped.

  The wind and the sand died out and the thunderous roar dimmed to just an obnoxious noise.

  Pandy didn’t know what was happening exactly and brought her hands up inside the cloak, trying to make a little breathing room. Suddenly, she realized that she could move her arms and her shoulders freely. She heard Dido yelp once, then Homer’s voice calling to her. Slowly she pulled her cloak off of her head.

  There were still a few grains of fine sand spiraling through the air, so she shielded her eyes as she opened them, staring down at first.

  Looking up, she saw the enormous brown mass of whirling, choking sand now about five meters away and slowly moving off to the east. With only a glance at Homer, who was extracting his legs from their sand tomb, Pandy looked toward Iole …

  … or where Iole should have been.

  She was almost completely covered. The only thing Pandy could recognize was the shape of Iole’s head and a few hanks of black hair poking out from the sand hill stacked against the camel.

  “Iole!” Pandy screamed as she began flinging sand away from Iole by the handful, just as Dido, somehow freed from the
rope, rushed over and began shaking himself furiously.

  “Homer! Help me!”

  Homer was at her side in an instant, but instead of scooping away the sand, he rammed both arms, elbow-deep, into the sand hill on either side of Iole and slowly lifted her out. Part of the camel blanket was caught in Iole’s hair clip, and Iole’s neck was stretched at an awkward angle. Pandy quickly freed the clip. Homer laid Iole on her back, and Pandy searched her face for any signs of life, but Iole was ashen.

  “She’s warm,” Pandy said, putting her hand to Iole’s forehead while she pushed away Dido’s nose. “Stay back, boy!”

  “She’s breathing,” Homer said, pointing to the very slight rise and fall of Iole’s chest.

  The next moment, Iole coughed and opened her eyes. Then she closed them again.

  “Iole?” Pandy asked gently.

  “I’m here,” Iole answered, almost inaudibly, her eyes still closed.

  Pandy sighed and turned to Homer.

  “Thank you,” she said, mindful that he was deliberately not looking at her. “Gods, that was fast thinking!”

  “Oh,” he said, then paused as if weighing his next words very carefully, “I’m sure you could think that fast. I’ve seen you do a lot of things fast.”

  He moved to stand, untying his end of the magic rope and dropping it on the ground.

  “When you want to.”

  Pandy jerked her head to stare up at him, seeing only his back as he walked away, shaking the sand from his cloak.

  “What?” she called after him.

  He didn’t reply.

  Pandy felt confused, as if he’d physically hit her for no reason, or no reason she knew of. But beyond that, she was just plain curious. Homer was behaving as if he were a totally different person.

  “What did you say, Homer?” she yelled, her growing confusion and frustration causing her voice to rise unevenly.

  Homer was shaking out his toga as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

  “We’d better get moving,” he said calmly. “The storm shifted all the dunes and—”

  “Stop it!” Pandy cried. She fumbled at the rope knot around her waist, then realized the rope had snapped and she was no longer tied to Iole.