Weird Theology

by Alex Raizman

  “As I was saying-” Uzeme began, but Brigid stepped in.

  “Uzeme, please. Can we at least let her finish a sentence?”

  “Why? It’s absolute madness!”

  “Because,” Brahma said, “some of us remember what manners are. And I very much would like to hear how Enki convinced Athena, who was once known as ‘the Wise,’ of such madness.”

  At the reminder of her old title, Athena’s face went from sour to bitter. Ryan didn’t think Brahma had meant it as an insult, but Athena had clearly taken it as one. “I believed Enki that Ishtar was trying to use Ryan to end the world. The first nanoverse found in centuries, doesn’t that seem significant? Perhaps it did hold some special power.”

  Svarog laughed. “Every nanoverse is the same, Athena. Tiny in your pocket, big when you walk in, and full of stars and people. There’s no ‘special power’.”

  “I’m not certain,” Athena said. “The Titans existed. Beings that weren’t quite mortal, weren’t quite monster, weren’t quite gods. There are archangels who have no need for a nanoverse. The underworld gods. All this strangeness, and we cannot accept that there may be an Eschaton?”

  “I’d like better evidence than the word of Ishtar and Enki, Athena,” Brigid said. “We’ve all had end-time myths we’ve told our people, to teach them or warn them of one thing or another. That doesn’t mean the world is actually going to end.”

  “What about Prophecy?” Ryan said, looking around. “I mean, I know I can’t do it yet, I’m Nascent, but I have a button for it in my staging area.”

  For some reason, that got a chortle out of everyone, and even got Athena to smirk. Ryan frowned. “No, seriously, why not?”

  “You’ll understand when you try it,” Brahma said with a smile, and Ryan got the impression he was trying his hardest not to be condescending. “But in short, prophecy will fill your head with vague images that are highly symbolic. You almost never know what they mean until after it’s passed, and sometimes you never do. It was a good trick back in the day, when – if you were wrong – it wouldn’t spread far or fast. Now though? It’s pretty much useless.”

  Ryan sighed. “Damn. I was actually looking forward to being able to see the future.”

  “We all do, dear.” Brigid says, shooting a sidelong glance at Athena. “You didn’t warn him it didn’t work like that?”

  Athena gave a small shrug. “I didn’t know it was important to him. Otherwise I would have.”

  “So, then, we are back where we started,” said Svarog, leaning over towards Athena. “How did that American astronomer put it? ‘Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof?’ Right now we have no proof, Athena.”

  “Enki was desperate to stop Ishtar, so much so that he betrayed us to do it.” Athena’s frown showed that she found that argument as weak as it sounded.

  “And again, Athena, Enki is crazy,” Uzeme said with a dismissive flip of her hand. “If he was desperate to seize the world’s cheese supply, would you assume that meant there was some cosmological significance to it?”

  “Ishtar’s argument hinges on Ryan being able to end the world. If he can’t, if she’s lying, then what does it matter?’

  Here Brigid's cool demeanor cracked. “You were on the damn news, Athena! The entire world saw you, all of you. We’ve enjoyed centuries of laying low, and now we’re out in the open.”

  “Uh,” Ryan raised a finger to get attention, “Why does it matter if you’re known or not? You can all shapechange, right? Who cares if people know the gods are real?”

  Brahma shook his head. “Faith is important, Ryan Smith. That’s why we’ve remained hidden for so long. When we take too active a role in things, humans rely more and more on us to do things for them. By staying in the shadows, and helping where we can, humans can only have faith in us. Not knowledge, faith. Faith is strength. It breeds a desire to improve, to develop, to grow. To live. Knowledge of the divine? Weakness, apathy. Why struggle for answers when you can ask a god?”

  “Yeah, but it’s different now.” Ryan said, looking around the table. “I mean, people aren’t just going to blindly follow you.”

  “Won’t they?” Brahma asked. “My faith has over a billion followers across the globe. Billion. I help them where I can, but if I reveal myself to them? Some won’t believe, others will. They will fight each other.”

  “That is the other reason, Ryan,” Svarog said. “Too many wars fought over whose gods were strongest, whose gods were real, and whose gods were best. Even with us retreating it still happened, but it became less. At least with us out of the fight, divine powers are not being thrown around.”

  Ryan shook his head. “But you all could do so much good and could have done so much good! I mean, the Holocaust? You could have stopped it.”

  The gods shared an uncomfortable silence. “We are not omnipotent, Ryan,” Brigid said finally. “Tell me, since becoming a god, how much more aware are you of the tragedies that still plague the world?”

  “I…” Ryan frowned and sighed. “I guess not any more aware than I was before.”

  Uzeme spoke up, and, for the first time since Ryan had met her, seemed to be sincere. “We were fighting, Ryan, during that war. Fighting each other. I had quite the battle with Dianmu in China, believe me. But our focus was too narrow, and we missed the bigger horror until it was too late. And that is the third reason why we hide. We are fallible. We make mistakes. We back the wrong side, we miss things we shouldn’t. And with our power, we could dictate the fate of the world. So we let humanity guide itself.” She shot Athena a sidelong glance. “Otherwise, we could end up supporting a madman.”

  Athena shook her head. “This is different. If Ishtar is right...“

  “If,” Brahma said firmly. “If she is, then we need proof. And then we can decide what we should do about it.”

  “Týr is dead,” Athena said softly. “Bast killed him. If nothing else, that demands justice.”

  Uzeme shrugged. “Did you see her do it? Did you witness the destruction of his nanoverse?”

  “Of course not,” Athena snapped.

  “Then why should we believe that Bast would go that far? Isn’t it more likely that she is merely storing it somewhere, so he resurrects in a cell and remain there until this fight is over?”

  “Hey, question for the table,” Ryan asked before Athena could boil over, although his own tone was about as sarcastic as he ever got. “Out of curiosity, if Athena told you all it was raining outside, would you believe her, or would you need to check?”

  The other gods all stared at him, Athena looking most shocked of all.

  “I can get not believing me,” Ryan continued. “I’m the dumb new guy who believes Ishtar, who apparently you all have beef with. But fine, whatever, I’m the moron who believes her. But Athena? You yourself said she was called the Wise. Enki is crazy, sure. But Athena? Does she seem crazy to you?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” Svarog said in a low tone, all sense of humor gone, but Ryan wasn’t done.

  “You’re right, I don’t. I don’t know shit from sandwiches right now. But she,” he gestured to Athena, “she does know exactly what she’s talking about. Whatever happened to the benefit of the doubt? Or are you all just so wrapped up in your own little pledge of inaction that you will take any reason to avoid doing anything?”

  Brahma held up a hand for silence. Somehow, the man’s calm insistence with just a gesture was more effective than Svarog’s warning tone. “We will act in this, Ryan. If there is proof that you do have the ability to end the world, I assure you, we will act.” Ryan didn’t like the warning note in his tone. “But without proof, we will not start a theomachy in the modern world. Thousands or millions could die. For all we know, starting such a war is exactly how Ishtar intends to end the world. So for now, we will watch. We will wait. But…” He caught Ryan’s gaze, and underneath the calm look Ryan could see a fire burning. “I assure you, if needs be, we will act.”
>
  Ryan glanced at Athena, who gave him a small shrug. “I guess we’re done here, Ryan,” she said, standing up.

  They started to walk away, but then Athena turned to face the group. “Oh, and one more thing?” She gestured to Ryan. “I’ve only really known him a couple days. I don’t particularly like him, if I’m being honest.”

  “Thanks,” Ryan muttered.

  “But right now, I’ll take him over all of the old way. He may be naive, new, easily manipulated, and kind of dense, but he’s trying to do something. We’ve let far too many horrors happen because of our insistence that our reasons to hide are good enough.”

  “You don’t get to decide that for all of us, Athena,” Uzeme snapped.

  “Well, apparently, I did.” Athena turned around. “Come on Ryan.”

  Ryan followed her away from the gaggle of gods and over to the bar. “I don’t know if I should thank you or be asking for an apology,” Ryan said.

  “Well, I’m a goddess. It’s my prerogative to be mysterious.” She gave him a small smile. “Besides, I did that for your sake. It’s always better to be underestimated. Don’t worry, Ryan. I only meant half of what I said about you there.”

  Ryan blinked. “Which half?”

  But Athena was waving to the bartender, and Ryan maneuvered around the edge of the dance floor to get to the bar. The bartender was a woman with dark grey skin, six antennae emerging over each eyebrow and wide, dark eyes that glittered like obsidian. Her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Athena! I haven't seen you since...was it the sixteenth century?"

  Athena nodded. "It has been awhile, Candia. This is Ryan Smith, the newest god on Earth."

  "Oooh, Ryan Smith. Very...interesting name you have there."

  He grinned. "My name's boring as sin, which among gods I think makes it unique."

  That at least got a good laugh out of the woman. As Candia calmed herself Athena added, "Candia is one of the Fae.”

  Candia nodded. "Not many of us left anymore, and most of our kingdom's been sunk till all we were left with was a wee island. Ended up needing to retreat to the Otherworld. Things got a bit too hot on Earth with you all stomping around.”

  Ryan was still reeling from meeting four different gods, so a Fae barely registered. “Yeah, I guess that...that make sense.”

  Athena ordered in Greek. Staring at the wall of alcohol, Ryan felt a bit overwhelmed. "Uh...what do you have on draft?"

  Candia giggled. "Everything, take your pick."

  "Uh...I'll have your best pale ale?"

  The woman flitted away, back in a moment with the golden drink. He took a sip and had to admit it was the best he’d ever had. “So, about what happ-”

  Athena cut him off. “Let’s talk about literally anything else, alright?” She finished her drink, and ordered another as Ryan sipped his beer. "Besides, you should know that these drinks contain Ambrosia. It’s one of the very few things in existence that can still get us drunk. No hangover, though, and it’s not a toxin."

  Ryan stared at his drink for half a moment before he downed it in a series of massive gulps. In what Ryan thought must be some kind of universal law across all bars in all reality, someone began to chant the ritualistic "Chug, chug, chug!" As soon as Ryan finished the beer, the Chug-chanter shifted to a shout of "wooooo!", as tradition mandates, then wandered back to their own group.

  Ryan smiled at Athena. "So no matter what, I won't get sick, or die?"

  "Precisely. And I like that you asked that after inhaling a drink with an unknown alcohol content."

  "Well," he paused, thinking it through. "I'll be honest, Athena, this is the first time I've done something straight up fun since I became a god. Crystal and I were dealing with life-or-death the entire time, and even the fun things we did were about training - like the mud fight on Mars - or about..." But that was about filling Hunger and nothing else. Have I really not had a real break? Technically this was about filling Hunger too, but it felt...different. He coughed, thinking he should have asked how strong that ale was.

  "You seem very fond of her."

  Athena's voice startled Ryan out of his reflection, "I mean, yeah. But not like...you know?"

  She nodded. "I do. So finish that drink," Ryan wasn't sure when the second ale had arrived, but he took it with a smile, "and let's dance."

  "Okay. But I should warn you, I don't know how to dance."

  Athena's lips turned up slightly. "You also didn't know how to wield a sword, yes? I think you'll find you can do just fine."

  He downed the drink, just slowly enough this time to avoid summoning the chug-chanter. "Well...let’s see how I do."

  Athena pulled him on to the dance floor, and like with his swordplay, he didn't let himself think too much. Instead, he just let the beat of the music become the pulse of battle and let himself flow with it. That seemed to be what Athena was doing, and her movements still had that power to them, that raw primal energy she unleashed on the battlefield, but now they were tempered by a grace that he found absolutely enchanting.

  Ryan was only half aware of what his own body was doing with the music. It felt every bit as arrhythmic and awkward as it always did. It probably was. At least Athena didn’t seem to mind. He could hear Crystal's advice. Roll with it, love.

  So he did, letting the music flow through him and Athena. He danced like the end of the world wasn't looming over his head, he danced like there wasn't a small cabal of gods out for his head, and he danced like he knew what he was doing.

  Which, of course, he didn't, but for once that didn't seem to matter.

  Chapter 19

  Hijinks Ensue

  Crystal gasped for air as life returned. Huge gulps, like emerging from deep under water. Her lungs burned with the need, and with each gasp the burning sensation began to fade. Can’t move. She tried, but her limbs weren’t responding. Only her mouth and lungs, sucking in as much air as they could hold. Despite Crystal’s age, the primal fear of suffocation had not faded. Again, and again, and yet again she took frantic breaths that made her head pound and spin.

  She flopped to the floor as her muscles started to respond in a series of spasmodic, uncoordinated jerks. A fresh wave of panic set in that she would suffocate now that her face was on the floor. A few more gasps reassured her that wasn’t going to happen.

  Panic began to fade. She had more pressing concerns. Her mouth was dry, drier than the Sahara at noon, drier than the dust of Mars. Her stomach wasn’t growling, it was roaring, a hunger so tight and painful she started to curl into a ball to clutch at her gut in agony. No. Fill it. The small part of her rational brain that still functioned demanded she uncurl, that she seek food and water before madness consumed her.

  It took an effort to get her limbs to respond with anything other than twitches. She finally made it to her hands and knees, gasping at the effort. A low groan escaped her lips. Food. Water. Need. Crawling wasn’t a conscious decision. It was just the best she could manage at the moment. Inch by inch, she dragged herself over to where the refrigerator was hidden in the floor.

  Her staging area sensed her desire and the refrigerator rose from the ground. She nearly tore it off its hinges. Inside was a jug of ice cold water and a cold cut sandwich labeled in all caps “ONLY EMERGENCIES.” It contained as much meat and cheese as she could fit between two slices of bread and still reasonably call it sandwich.

  Crystal gulped the water straight from the jug, wanting to sigh in relief as it passed her throat. She only didn’t because that would mean she had to stop drinking, something she didn’t do until the jug was empty. She ate the sandwich with a similar frenzy, in a manner not unlike a piranha attacking a cow. She tore huge chunks out of the poor food, barely masticating her prey before she moved onto the next bite. Neither drink or food was enough to do more than take the Hunger from brutal need to strong craving, but at least that was an improvement.

  Then she wrapped her arms around herself and started to weep. It wasn’t sadness, but a loneliness so
intense it burned like grief. A desperate need for human contact welled up within her. Something, anything. A touch, a word, a caress, even a strike would be welcome right now. Anything to make her feel something other than all alone in the universe.

  “M-music,” she managed to choke out. Her nanoverse responded, and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata began to float through the empty staging area.

  By the time the song had finished, she’d gotten her tears under control, and managed to stop hugging herself. Her first real, rational thought came to her.