Kumbaya, Space Hippie

by Paul Neuhaus

  Sebastian scratched the scar running down his face. “Offhand, I’d say you’d need to be Hades and Persephone to activate it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How is that practical? What if Hephaestus needed to get into his workshop and Hades and Persephone weren’t around?”

  “You’re asking me?” Squire replied.

  A voice came from behind Squire. A woman’s voice. “Maybe you don’t have to be Hades and Persephone… Maybe you just have to be Lord and Lady of the Underworld.” It was Amanda—or, rather, her shade. Beside her was Connie.

  “Or ex-Lord and -Lady of the Underworld.” Connie added. Both shades brushed past Sebastian and the bronies to join me at the door.

  “How’d you guys get here?” I asked, pleasantly surprised. “You’re not Heroes of Elysium.”

  “We got a day pass from Hades,” Amanda replied. “He knows what’s going down. He wants to help.” With that, she stepped forward and pressed her spectral hand into Persephone’s palm. Connie followed suit with Hades’ hand. The door immediately creaked and swung open on its hinges.

  Crazy Indiana Jones door problem solved.

  “Alright, everybody! Press on, press on! We’re through.” Again, I took the lead with the bronies clustered around me, Amanda and Connie on either side and Pegasus just above. “I still don’t understand that door,” I said to my two ghostly friends. “It doesn’t make any kinda sense.”

  Connie shrugged his shoulders. “We’re through. Let’s worry about the specifics later.”

  The room beyond the doorway was another vast silo. The walls depicted a giant, episodic account of the history of the earth. The weird thing about it was it was creating itself in real time. Just above our level was the appearance of Olympus in the Nevada desert. Just below that was a depiction of the very assault we were staging. The higher you went, the further back you went in time. But I was far more interested in the present. “Hey,” I said. “Maybe we should just hang out here and see how this whole thing turns out.”

  Hermes was just behind me. “That’s not the way it works. It’s recording what goes down; not predicting it.”

  “Too bad,” I replied. “I wanted to see if I ever get my Gene Simmons bass guitar back.”

  Tiresias spoke up. “You lost your Gene Simmons bass guitar?”

  I copped a guilty expression. “That. Is a long story.”

  The ramps in the new silo didn’t hug the walls in a corkscrew formation. These rose and hit a landing. At each landing, another ramp rose going up in the opposite direction. This crisscross pattern persisted as far as my eyes could see. “How tall is this fucking mountain?” I said with a sigh.

  “It’s no Everest,” Hermes replied. “But it’s no slouch either.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “But my calves are starting to hurt.”

  Jack Wiener chimed in immediately and rather awkwardly. “And handsome calves they are too.”

  I gave him the side-eye as I started walking up the incline. “Thank you, Jack. That was both timely and relevant.”

  I flashed Elijah a glance, mostly to blame him again for bringing his brother. El smiled. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have nice calves.”

  When we got to the first landing, I looked up the next ramp and realized we had a problem. Coming down the ramp were what I thought were sumo wrestlers. I looked closer and realized it was just more zombies—big, fat, bloated zombies. They were clustered so thick that occasionally one would bump into another one. Whenever that happened, the bumpee would explode—thanks, no doubt to his body being full of volatile gas. Each explosion set off a chain reaction where the bumpee would set off the bumper and all the zombies in the immediate vicinity. You would think this pattern would greatly reduce their numbers, but there were just so many of them to start with. From my vantage point, I could see that all the ramps above us were thick with these explode-o zombies. “Well…” I said. “This could be a problem.”

  Then I heard Hermes shout, “Eyes down! Eyes down, everyone!”

  I almost looked up and back despite what the messenger god was saying. Fortunately, everyone else pointed their faces at the ground. I didn’t want to be odd man out, so I did the same.

  As a body brushed past me, I heard a hiss and I knew intuitively what was going down. I knew that, since the creature’s back was to me, I could raise my eyes again. In front of me, scaling the ramp toward the gas zombies, was Medusa, looking exactly the way I’d seen her last. She was naked and carrying a spear. I knew she wasn’t going to need the spear, though since she’d be relying on her innate talents instead. Everywhere she pointed her gaze, one or more sumo zombies turned to stone. She didn’t miss a single one as she ascended, and I knew all we needed to do was give her some room.

  After a moment, I said, “Saddle-up, people. Let’s not keep the snake lady waiting.”

  Our only problem going forward was the stone zombies blocked the path for the larger creatures bringing up the rear. Those of us in front did our best to knock the statues off the ramp as we went. Most of them broke off neatly at the ankles and toppled into the blackness below us. “Jeeze,” Chad Kroeger said. “It looks like this wacky adventure’s gonna work out.”

  I spun toward him. “Don’t you dare jinx us, Chad Kroeger.”

  The man—who was not the lead singer of Nickelback—flushed and said, “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  The ascent was grueling. At least for me. I’d spent a decade locked in a trailer, so it was remarkable anyone would notice the niceness of my calves. On the upside, I figured that, if I survived, I was bound to have lost some weight in the process. I tracked our progress based on the mural. We were about to the Spanish Inquisition. “What comes after this, Hermes?”

  “Nothing comes after this,” the dead god said. “There’re other silos we could’ve taken, but this one goes directly to the top.”

  “Thank gods,” I replied. “I wish I’d peed before we started this.”

  “Tie a knot in it,” Hermes said with a grin.

  I ignored him and focused on my bladder. On the one hand, it felt like a stupid thing to have to take into account given the magnitude of everything going on around me. On the other hand, it helped me settle the butterflies in my stomach.

  When we got to the point where early man left equatorial Africa, I said, “Gods, it’s quiet. Should it be this quiet?”

  Hermes nodded. “I’m trying to think what other defenses Prometheus could unleash. Maybe he’s waiting until we get to the top to fully unleash on us.”

  I turned to Cal. “What about you? Do you have any intel?”

  Calesius made a dismissive sound. “If you wanna know where they’re keeping Keri or you wanna go out, so I can let you back in again, I’m your guy. Otherwise, they don’t tell me shit—and I don’t ask. I was all about keeping a low profile.”

  “Okay, well, I guess we’re just gonna have to— “Whatever I was about to say was drowned out by a high-pitched scream from above us. A reptilian scream, if there is such a thing. “That was Medusa! Come on! Pick up the pace!” I started running, and so did the group of friends around me, the Titans and the Heroes of Elysium. In all my years of adventuring, I never thought I’d lead such a disparate (and undeniably cool) group into battle. They made me feel tougher than I was—which was good considering the circumstances.

  Those of us in the front stopped knocking over the fat zombie statues. Turns out we’d been wasting our time anyway. The stone effigies were crushed into powder by the relentless progress of the elder gods.

  My eyes were jostled by the rhythm of my own jog, so it was hard for me to make out what was going on above me. As far as I could see, the next two or three ramps were covered by statues and nothing more. Medusa had proven not only efficient but fast.

  On our third ramp, I noticed there were no statues on the fourth ramp. I saw the reason for that almost too late to stop. I skidded to a halt, throwing my arms up to rein in the people around me (trusting the effect
would ripple backward in a way that wouldn’t result in casualties). My trust was not quite misplaced. Our crazy group managed to stop without driving the whole unit off the front edge or dropping anyone off the sides. But only barely.

  Amanda voiced her irritation at me. “What’re you trying to do?! Kill us all?!”

  I couldn’t help pointing out the obvious. “You’re already dead!”

  Connie grinned. “Sure. Get us on a technicality.”

  Once everyone was stopped and settled, I took a couple of hesitant steps forward. Toward the last of the statues. Turns out the last of the statues wasn’t a pleasingly plump zombie, it was Medusa herself, immortalized forever in granite. “Oy,” I said. “Who or what could’ve done this?”

  “A cockatrice?” Elijah ventured.

  “Put your Monster Manual away, Dungeon Master. That’s British mythology.”

  Sebastian Squire stepped up to stand next to El and I. “There’re three gorgons,” he said. “Medusa has two sisters. And one of them was born and bred in the caverns beneath Olympus.”

  My shoulders dropped. “Stheno,” I said, for that was the sister’s name.

  “Right,” Squire agreed. “Not as famous as Medusa, but generally thought to be the most murderous member of the family.”

  I got a cold chill. Somewhere in our immediate vicinity was a creature that could kill any one of us with a look—mortal and elder god alike. The shades were probably safe, but I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t know for sure, so I was persuaded to ask. “Yo! Hermes! Front and center!”

  The messenger came to me with a smirk on his face. “I am still a god, you know. Would it kill you to show a little respect?”

  “You’re a dead god. Which is the point of me calling you up here. Can you, the Heroes of Elysium or, for that matter, Connie and Amanda, be turned to stone? Since, you know, you’re a) not alive and b) made of ectoplasm?”

  Hermes grinned. “That’s why you get the big dollars,” he said. “I’m on it.”

  I retreated back to the group I’d left behind. I shouted so that everyone could hear me. Turns out the acoustics near life emerging from the primordial seas were excellent. “Everybody! Squat down like you have to take a shit! Squat down, cover your heads and close your eyes as tight as you can!” I remained standing to check my orders were being followed. Cronus squatting down like he had to take a shit, covering his head, and closing his eyes as tight as he could struck me funny. Once I saw my whole entourage had done what I asked, I squatted down like I had to take a shit, covered my head, and closed my eyes as tight as I could.

  I was in that position so long it seemed like an eternity. I was in that position so long I thought my nice-looking calves would scream in protest. Finally, I heard a scuffle above me, punctuated by reptilian screams. After a moment, the screams stopped and then there was silence again. For too long. After an interminable wait, I heard someone say, “Psst.” I looked up and a shade in shining hoplite armor and a Corinthian helmet was standing over me, grinning through the slit in his face mask. When he saw I was looking, he dropped something at my feet. It was Stheno’s severed head. My reaction was involuntary. I said “Gah!” and shuffled backwards. The gorgon’s killer laughed, and his eyes shone. I realized I was looking at Achilles himself—and he didn’t look that different from Brad Pitt, the man who’d portrayed him in the movie Troy. I scolded myself for the sudden flush I felt in my lady bits (although he was sexy, the man was dead after all). “I’d’ve been satisfied with a corsage,” I said, standing and kicking my gruesome present over the edge.

  Achilles saluted me and went back to join the other Heroes of Elysium. “How about a round of applause for Achilles, folks?”

  My friends, who were all standing up, smiled and clapped.

  “There he goes. Mind the heels, people.”

  Achilles waved over his head as if to say, “Thank you, thank you. You’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

  I looked around at my core group. “Okay,” I said. “Unless this mural goes all the way back to the birth of the universe, we should be getting close. I wish I could tell you what to expect, but I can’t.” Without further comment, I pressed on, and my giant train of ghosts, men and monsters followed.

  When we got to the top of the last ramp, I was crestfallen. Above us was the equivalent of a giant manhole with its cover removed. If we climbed through it, we’d be picked off en masse. “We can’t go through that hole,” I said. “It’d be certain death.”

  “Certain death for us,” Cal said. “What about the Titans?”

  I grinned at the kid. “You’re saying lead with our strengths?”

  “I guess I am,” he said, returning the smile.

  I pushed over to the edge of the landing we were standing on. I knew it would be a tight squeeze as the Titans went by us, but it was the only way to go. “Okay,” I said. “Everyone who isn’t an elder god, or a shade come over here with me. We’re all going to join arms to make sure no one falls off. Cronus and his people more are gonna take the lead and, hopefully, kick some ass before we even emerge.”

  Cal, Squire, Elijah, Chad, Jack, and Ty came over by me. Petey hovered just above us. “I’ll catch anybody who falls,” the M.C. said. “But try and make it so no more than one of you falls. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be.”

  I locked arms with the six men. Tiresias was too my right and his cloud of little blue birds were cheeping incessantly. “Isn’t there some way you can quiet them down, Ty?”

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “They’re nervous.”

  “Go figure,” I replied.

  Those of us on the edge planted out feet and did our best impersonation of immovable objects as the Titans and the Heroes of Elysium went by us. We had a couple of near misses, but we were able to keep from being knocked over the edge.

  Cronus was in front and, to his credit, he didn’t just squeeze through the faux manhole. He pulled an Incredible Hulk and widened it, making it much, much larger.

  The sound of our allies going through the gap masked the sound of what happened to those allies on the other side. Or so I thought. Actually, there was no sound from the other side. It took a moment for that to register and, when it did, it was unsettling. What happened to the clash of armies? What happened to the din of falling architecture? My friends felt it too, and we looked at one another nervously as we unlocked our arms and moved away from the edge.

  Jack was the first one to vocalize it. “What’s happening?” he said.

  “Or what’s not happening?” Petey added.

  I shook my head. I knew just as little as the rest of them. Seeing no alternative, I made for the hole in the ceiling. Elijah grabbed my arm. “It’s a trap,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I replied, and I climbed over the rubble that Cronus had made on his way through. What I saw when I broke through into the cold night air was Prometheus. He was smiling. Dressed in a full armor. Carrying a staff with its top constantly burning. His hair flowing in the breeze. Behind him were the two metal cylinders he’d had with him at the Conclave of Universal Consciousness. They were open and, inside, were the desiccated bodies of Hephaestus and Hecate. Even as they glowed a vibrant yellow, they two gods writhed in pain. Tortured. Held in thrall to a madman. Behind the two cylinders were the Olympians, all of them dressed for battle. All of them looking stoically forward at myself and my little entourage. Among them were Hades and Persephone. All of them were waiting for a command from Prometheus—although I could see reluctance on many of their faces. They too were Prometheus’ unwilling accomplices. Arrayed around the edges of the courtyard were space hippies galore. All of them in rapt attention, staring at us with the glassy eyes of the unquestioningly devout. Not too far from the Olympians, I saw Keri Wiener, just as focused—and just as devoid of identity—as the rest of the congregation. El started to go toward her, but I grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back.

  Surrounding the courtyard were buildings in the ancient G
reek style. Made of white marble. More perfect than anything the hands of man could create. Within this ring of architecture floated two enormous balls of light. Not quite light. More like spherical lenses looking into other dimensions. In one, Olympus was a ruin and the Titans were running riot. A triumphant Cronus sat upon Zeus’ throne. In the other, the Heroes of Elysium fought the Persians who were invading a long-ago Greece. But it wasn’t a real battle, characterized by grit and blood. It was a movie battle with outlandish acts of daring do. There was even a sweeping orchestral score. The two spheres were artificial prisons specifically designed to hold the different parts of my army. Just as my own artificial reality had held me until very recently.

  I looked at our smiling host and said, “The creatures we fought on the way up… They were diversions. So, we wouldn’t think our ascent was too easy. These prisons were always your endgame.”

  Prometheus pointed at his nose then pointed at me.

  “We never stood a chance.”

  The new king of Olympus shrugged. “You always had a choice. Particularly you, Dora. You’ve as agile a mind as any I’ve seen, but you weighted your thinking in the wrong direction. You came expecting me to rely on military might. A miscalculation on your part, given I’ve already shown you where my head is at. Illusion… Wish fulfillment… These things are ever-so-much more powerful than swords and spears. If you give a man—or a woman—exactly what he wants, he’ll love you for it. Even if it’s a lie.”

  I looked over his shoulder at the Olympians, then back at their new leader. “Is that what I see on the faces behind you? Love? It looks more like grudging acceptance. You keep them in line by threatening to take their reality away from them.”