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Religion is one of the hottest topics around right now. These humans just can’t decide. They either have a million gods, or they only have one, or they don’t believe in any of them. Sometimes they protest for their religion and sometimes they kill. Most of them sit quietly in church, minding their own business, but one thing matches up. They all think that their god is the right one.
That’s not always a big deal either because usually they value respecting people. Sometimes you get the Jehovah’s Witnesses who feel compelled to go from door to door or the yellers at every concert, but most of the time they live and let live. Unless, of course, you tell them that they’re wrong.
Well, they’re all wrong.
So are you.
That’s okay, though, because in some way every religion links back to us. Yes, even that one with the spaghetti. Especially the one with the spaghetti. We love spaghetti. You would be right to assume that the word “we” implies that there’s more than one of us. In fact, there’s so many that we don’t even bother keeping track. At an estimate, I’d say closing on a hundred and seventy at least. Yes, one hundred seventy gods. Have fun learning that one, kids. There are thirty two main gods and goddesses, though, so that’s all that really matters if you really want to boil it down. That’s where your religions come into play. Combined, we create every god that has ever been thought up. Even the spaghetti one.
Let’s get away from that shit now. There’s no need to pile anything more than the basics on. To make things simple, I work with the thirty one other big guys and girls to keep your world working. Everyone has a job and nobody can slack off, unless we enjoy watching the entire universe collide violently with another and collapse from the inside out. That isn’t a common occurrence, so don’t freak out. In fact, it only almost happened once.
You remember back around 2011 when everything seemed to go to shit, right? Hottest summer on record with no rain at all, freak hurricanes, nightmare earthquakes, and all of that other apocalyptic junk? Plus you had the aforementioned religious nuts claiming that the reckoning was coming, whatever that actually means. Well, things were just as crazy behind the scenes.
Everyone disappears every once in awhile, leaving in turns and letting their partners pick up the slack. Nobody can keep working endlessly for eternity, after all. You leave for a year or two and show up again ready to work.
Long story short, we had all been pulling extra shifts to keep everything afloat. We traded off and took breaks, dashing into our chosen apartments and rooms for a quick nap before springing right back up again to untangle more of the mess that has been building. Why had a mess been building? Well, if you don’t come back after a few years, things start going downhill. Especially when you’re the only one who knows how to do your job. Especially when a few years turns into eighteen.
Flying back to my apartment was nothing special. I didn’t descend from heaven and land in some pimped-out multi-level apartment that would make the richest star on Earth green with jealousy. No, after a long night, I returned home to a reasonably priced pent house that looked very much like a disaster zone. The sliding glass door of the balcony was left unlocked, but the message that called me home indicated that I wasn’t alone. Even as I slid it open, I savored the last few minutes of peace and took a moment to admire the admittedly alarming state of my apartment. Early morning sunlight poured over the boxes that hid my carpet, heating them just enough so that the smell of pizza filled the air. My nose wrinkled slightly, but I only rolled my eyes and kicked a path to the kitchen. She was already perched on the counter with a fresh glass of apple juice poured, lips painted black and pressed into a smug line.
“About time, Brother,” she smirked. “I was worried that you’d keep me waiting into the afternoon.”
“I like the dress,” I muttered, ignoring her comment.
I noted after the fact that it was actually a beautiful dress. It appeared to be modified from something that she kept from old Greece, though it was more likely a recurring fashion that she greeted openly. The fabric was light, flowing easily when she moved, and resembled in coloring the sunrises that she liked to travel with. The only accessory that she wore was her silver armlet. Today’s design was one that I hadn’t seen before, a thin and simple one that delicately held the ever-present violet crystal. Rose was never the sort to be caught looking anything less than stunning, even in casual wear.
“Brother,” she spoke again, raising an unamused eyebrow.
“We aren’t actually related,” I reminded her, but she just shrugged and glanced to the juice that was waiting on the counter.
With another futile roll of my eyes, I took the drink and downed it. It sat cold in my empty stomach, reminding me just how busy I’d been that day. Gods don’t really need to eat, but we don’t need to sleep either. It’s all for comfort. Plus, working almost endlessly was a good distraction. Rose wasn’t invading my home to comment on my recent success in not plunging the world into a twisted and bloody version of itself, of course. She had arrived with the sunrise to tell me that I was out of time.
How ironic.
Without saying a word, I busied myself with washing out the glass that she had used. It was laughably obvious that I only did so out of refusal to acknowledge her and her demands, considering that there was three months worth of trash and grime-covered dishes strewn around the apartment. She still indulged me until I reached for the dish soap for the third time.
“Dave, you have to go,” she said with a heavy sigh.
“Why can’t Jade go?” I asked, letting the glass rest in the sink. “She’s supposed to be his sister, right?”
“They’re not related,” she quoted me and, with a final roll of my eyes, I turned to face her.
Rose was, as previously mentioned, the picture of perfection. Her skin was light and smooth, not a single imperfection marring her surface. Though she refused to leave me be, the corners of her lips were lifted slightly in apology. However, I knew Rose better than most. The signs of a weary goddess weren’t hidden from me. For the first time in a century, her platinum hair hung in her face. Through the bangs that refused to be brushed aside, her violet eyes stared forward, dead with exhaustion. Not even one of our brightest - excuse my pun - could escape the wear of this hopeless fight. With another nearly inaudible sigh, she rolled her shoulders.
“It’s time to stop running from this and just go get him,” she spoke softly, but firmly.
“I know,” I sighed, leaning back against the counter. “I’ll do it soon.”
“Today,” she insisted.
“There’s no rush,” I protested, but she didn’t give me the chance to argue any farther.
“We’re all exhausted, you more than anyone else. All that you come home for is a quick nap, which I’ve noticed you abandoning frequently. Plus, you and the other two know something that you don’t want the rest of us to,” she reasoned, crossing her arms over the brilliant hues of her dress.
“We’re running out of time to fix this,” I admitted unhappily. “Soon we’ll be too far gone to have a chance.”
“Don’t let it happen,” she demanded calmly, but an iciness had coated her tone.
With that, she glided past me and out of the balcony door. She had her fair share of strings to pull before she could find her own bed. It was with a roll of my sore shoulders that I accepted the new quest. Of course, it was only new in the sense that I was finally going to do it and, as every quest does, it required a bit of preparation.
Rose’s dress, though normal for her, was generally deemed “dressy” by human standards. My clothes weren’t even close to similar, but the style of dress was a little too close to medieval peasant for casual wear. Instead, I threw my clothes in a pile on my unmade bed and switched to something more acceptable. Well, first I had to take a shower and give myself a bit of a haircut, but just a trim. Black skinny jeans and a red t-shirt worked just fine. My various watches, all telling one of the time zones that I had to deal with the most, came next. After that, I ran my fingers through my hair and adjusted my aviators.
By the time that I was finally ready I’d managed to waste an hour and a half. That wasn’t an issue because I always arrived exactly when I wanted to, but the sentiment was still there. I skipped the plane, instead traveling on my own. Now I’m not sure what you were picturing, but it was probably something akin to superman flying through the air with his cape flapping majestically behind him. While flying like that is possible, the point is to get there faster than an airplane would and with considerably less bugs lodged in your face. Instead, we basically teleport wherever we want to go.
It didn’t take even a second of thought before I found my way to his door. I had been looking on this particular human since the day that he was born. “Born.” “Human.” Whatever. I located the correct watch for his time zone, which always strapped tightly to my right wrist, and confirmed that it was 10am. That was the unofficial officially acceptable time to ruin someone’s day. After some hesitation and a lot of shaking hands, I finally gathered myself enough to ring the doorbell. The sound of a small stampede was followed by the door swinging open, revealing a pyjama-clad teenager with bed head that would send Giorgio Tsoukalos running for cover. His eyes were impossibly and comfortingly blue, even hidden behind unfamiliar frames. Then he opened his mouth.
“Dad,” he called over his shoulder loudly. “There’s some guy at the door!”
Charming, as always. His father, already dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt, appeared from the kitchen. Large, freshly washed hands were glistening with the water that the towel didn’t catch. Probably doing the usual round of baking. I was hoping that I could play things smoothly, but the moment that he saw me his eyes narrowed and all hope was lost.
“I asked you all to leave us in peace,” he reminded me firmly, nudging his son out of the way.
I gave the man an unamused stare, but waited for him to continue. To anyone who knew me, the message would be clearly sent that I wasn’t going to deal with shit. Unfortunately, James Egbert had never had much of a fondness for me. When he did speak, he did so without the slightest care as to what I would or would not deal with. He only cared what he would
“It’s time for you to go, we don’t need anything from you today,” he said and his ever-present manners hitched just long enough that he closed the door.
On my foot.
“Oh, come on Mr. Egbert,” I sighed, nudging the door open. “You knew that this was going to happen sooner or later.”
“Yes, much later than this,” he snapped, still blocking the entrance.
“If you let me in, then we can talk about this like civil people,” I told him, motioning to the couch that his son was perched on. “Either way, I can’t leave unless he comes with me.”
With that, Mr. Egbert reluctantly surrendered his hold on the door and allowed me to enter. The house was, as it had always been, perfectly cozy. No pizza boxes could be found scattered anywhere and all of the shoes were neatly lined up on a plastic mat by the umbrella holder. Who even has an umbrella holder? He walked ahead to the worn blue couch, taking the open spot and crossing his legs in what might have been an effort to look confident or comfortable. Seeing as there was no other seat, I stood in front of them with my hands laced together. Neither of us seemed willing to begin the conversation, but the silence was still short-lived.
“So what exactly is going on?” John asked, glancing nervously between the two of us.
“You could have tried to prepare him, you know,” I told his father.
“Prepared me for what?” he directed to his right.
“How well would that conversation have gone over?” his dad returned, ignoring his son’s question.
“That’s a dumb excuse,” I muttered, glancing over at a clearly distressed John.
“What are you guys talking about?” he tried again futilely.
“I’ll explain later, Son,” Mr. Egbert told him. “Why don’t you go on upstairs?”
“Actually, no,” I broke in as he started to rise. “I’m going to explain this right now.”
“I don’t think that would be best,” his dad protested.
“He’s clearly confused and he deserves to know what is going on,” I reasoned, but he still tried to shoo John away from us. “James, you’re pissing me off.”
Occasionally having the ability to scare the shit out of the people helps. Despite his familiarity with us, James never seemed to forget that we could make it so that he had never been born. Still, it became clear that having a three-way discussion was never going to work, so I decided to cut Egbert Sr. out of the picture. He protested as I pushed past him to place myself between the two of them, but fell silent the moment that I started to talk.
“John, it’s been a while. You’re looking well,” I said casually with a small smile, ignoring his dad.
“I’ve never met you,” he pointed out, eying me carefully.
“That’s a bit complicated,” I said. “Anyway, there’s not really a good way to put this, so I’m just going to come right out with it. You’re not actually who you think you are at all, even down to the basics.”
John’s eyebrows raised, but his lips twisted up at the sides in a smirk. I knew in that instant that this wasn’t going to go easily. He glanced down, making a show of looking himself over, and raised his head again. Somehow, even through the reflective lenses of my sunglasses, he managed to find my eyes.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that I’m exactly who I think I am,” he assured me, crossing his arms. “John Egbert, eighteen year old human boy. Doesn’t get much more me than that, right?”
He looked so upset when I laughed. It made sense, of course, because he honestly thought that he was being suitably sassy with the stranger who was trying to sell him some serious bullshit. I felt James’ eyes burn holes in my head and tried to clear the last of the chuckles by clearing my throat, but my face was still flushed and a smirk stuck firmly where an indifferent line should have been.
“Actually, that’s exactly the thing that you aren’t,” I told him with a pat on the shoulder. “That’s okay though, your dad was just too afraid to tell you. He isn’t actually your dad, by the way.”
John’s eyes widened as he glanced over frantically for help, or possibly confirmation. He would get neither at this point, considering how far in denial James had buried himself.
“What do you mean?” John asked me.
“To put it simply, you’re one of the gods.”
That seemed to strike an interesting chord. What could almost be called understanding flickered in his eyes for a moment, but was gone before it could take hold. He still spent a few more seconds pondering my claim.
“Like Zeus or something?” he chuckled finally.
“Actually, Aeolus is closer, but that’s the basic idea.”
“I’m on some dumb reality TV show, aren’t I?” he asked, glancing around and trying to spot the nonexistent cameras.
“‘Fraid so,” I sighed. “We tried as hard as we could to punk you, but you just refused to be Punk’d.”
“Really?” he asked, sounding almost excited.
“No,” I deadpanned, earning an exasperated sigh from his father.
“So what are you on about?” he tried again.
“I’m being serious, actually,” I admitted, removing my glasses and looking straight at him. “It’s complicated and I can’t explain it all right now, but you’re an elite member of the god club.”
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Unfortunately for him, a few too many things were sliding into place right now. Nobody else ever had eyes as pure blue as his. They only looked right against the clear red that he was staring into. His dad never treated him quite like the other dads treated their sons. People always felt nervous around him. It all made too much sense and I could tell that he was starting to doubt himself.
“Dad, he’s joking right?” he asked, looking past me for confirmation.
James’s silence revealed more than any excuse could have. Before his words catch up with him, John was already resting his head in his hands. He was muttering a few choice words under his breath.
“I’m here to pick you up, basically,” I explained. “My job right now is to get you back to my apartment so that we can start working things out.”
The protests from both parties rose immediately. John even shot to his feet. I raised my hands to quiet them, waiting until they both trailed off before moving. When I finally did, I rose to match John’s height.
“Sorry, windy boy, but this is beyond us,” I said honestly. “We have a plane to catch in two hours.”
After finding no response in his shocked father, John sighed and led me up to his room. Upon my direction, he tossed some clothes and a few of his personal belongings into a large duffel bag. While he went to retrieve his toothbrush, I crept into his father’s room. The last thing that I expected was the grey-haired man to be waiting for me.
“Take care of him,” he demanded, holding the golden armlet out as if trading it for my promise.
“I swear on my life,” I promised without hesitation, taking the armlet and giving him a slight nod as I walked out.
While John finished packing, I called up a taxi. It arrived in ten minutes flat and was impatient to get underway. The final goodbye between John and his “dad” brought an uncomfortable tightness to my throat. Despite the fact that James and I never got along - likely because he caused about 33 of my 99 problems - John was truly attached to him. None of us had ever had a parent before and I couldn’t begin to understand the connection, but it clearly was a strong one. John looked just as miserable as I had felt when he first came here.
John didn’t speak to me in the taxi. When we arrived at the airport, he didn’t ask why we were there. The short ride in first class was equally silent and I began to worry that he intended on continuing this protest. One of the things that I was not up for dealing with was his childish behavior. It took until the twelfth flight of stairs for him to so much as groan in annoyance, but I barely paused to look back. When we finally reached the top floor, he was panting and gasping for breath. Once he caught it he spoke simply and shortly, as he always had.
“What the fuck are we doing?”
Slightly more strongly, though.
“Unless I’m mistaken, we’re walking into a penthouse in Houston, Texas.”
“Okay, that’s true,” he conceded with a heavy sigh. “Why?”
“Because there’s a lot of people who are getting sick of you playing human,” I replied, pushing the door open.
Instead of being greeted with the piles of empty boxes that I was dreading, clean carpet stared up at me. Along with its source, the vile stench of old pizza and fast food had disappeared. The dishes that normally covered every flat surface were missing as well. Down the hall, the open door revealed that mountains of dirty laundry were no longer covering the floor of my room. In fact, it seemed like only one thing remained in place. Circling into the kitchen, I realized that my glass from earlier had been refilled with apple juice and used to pin down a note. I picked it up and was surprised to find that it was still cold.
Dave,
Thank you so much for going to get him! Rose and I figured that if you were going to take one for the team then we could at least help you out and clean up a bit. Don’t worry, we didn’t move anything that belonged where it was, just the nasty stuff. Your dirty clothes are in the laundry closet and all of the dishes are up in the cabinets. She also did a bit of shopping, so you and John should have plenty to eat for a while. There’s even a yummy casserole in there! No clue where she found the time to make that, but I’m sure it’ll be amazing! Good luck with him and just give us a call if you need us!
-Jade
Thank god for goddesses.
“I’m hungry,” John commented, standing in the entrance with his bag.
“No problem, there’s some casserole in the fridge. Homemade, I think,” I told him, setting the note and juice down. “I’ll heat it up, you can throw your stuff in the guest room. It’s to your left.”
He was already sliding into a chair before I could even open the microwave, but he didn’t complain about the slight wait. In fact, not a single word was spoken before the plates were being scrubbed clean in the sink. It wasn’t for a lack of effort, but more for a lack of words coming out of my mouth. What would you even say to someone at that point? Well, it’s actually an issue of how to say something without sounding like an asshole. Before I could figure it out, John retreated to the guest room and left me alone yet again. After taking a deep breath, I followed him and gave a sharp knock. The response was almost instant.
“Leave me alone.”
“John, please don’t pull this angsty hiding routine,” I sighed, sagging my shoulders.
“Fuck you, leave me alone,” he replied bitterly, choking on the last syllable.
The question remained: comfort or carry on? If I opened the door, I was 85% sure that I would end up getting something thrown at me. Oh well, it wasn’t much of a question in the first place.
“I’ve got to go to work,” I explained.
“Like hell you’ve got a job,” he muttered, but there was less fire in it than I expected.
“You have a point there,” I chuckled. “But that begs the question of where I’m going and I don’t think you’re quite ready for the answer yet.”
Silence was the only response and I took it that he was done arguing with me.
“The TV is all yours, feel free to watch anything. If someone knocks on the door you should probably answer it, but try not to be too weirded out by them. Food’s in the kitchen, bathroom’s down the hall. I probably won’t be back until the morning, so don’t wait up.”
“Wh’evr.”
I already knew the position that he had to have been in to make that noise. He would be curled up in a ball on the floor, probably against the door. His arms would be folded on top of his knees and his face would be buried in them, successfully hiding both his voice and the tears that couldn’t be far behind. There wasn’t a damn thing that I could do until he let go a little bit.
Instead of taking the front door like I might have during the day, I opened the sliding door and stepped out to watch the last traces of sun disappear. It was finally dark enough for the street lights to shine up from below, but I hooked my worn aviators over my ears anyway. With just one more covert glance back at the guest room door, I climbed onto the railing and dove. As I disappeared into the sky, off to meet up with two very special ladies, a pair of blue eyes stared up in awe from the penthouse balcony.