99 Gods: Odysseia

by Randall Farmer

  “Drop the ‘God’,” Nessa said. Portland paused in thought, and then nodded. The aura of the room tangibly quivered, as if everything here subtly changed. “So, Patricia, how does it feel?”

  “Eye opening,” Patricia said. She stood and stretched out her arms. The name change hadn’t done a thing for her magnetic aura, Nessa noted. She did look more at ease, though. “This changes not only my name, but my entire attitude about myself and humanity. This opens up far too many questions regarding tolerance, enlightenment, ethics and morality. This asks a question without an answer: what do I do about the fact I’m not human anymore? I’m not sure I like this precipice, Nessa.”

  “Your questions are no different than the moral and ethical questions political leaders, the very rich and the extreme celebrities face every day,” Diana said, all indigo-y again. “Your question is one my group has faced since the beginning, what we think of as the root of all sin and evil: if you do something just because you can – then it’s wrong.”

  “Well said,” Patricia said, staring not unkindly at Diana. Evaluating, decoding, deciding. She sat back down. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to discommode all of you some more.”

  “Yes?” all four of them said. Nessa glanced at her husband, suddenly nervous.

  “We’re going to talk to Dubuque,” Patricia said. “The conversation isn’t likely to go well.”

  Patricia or Portland, she did have understatement down cold, Nessa decided.

  “…it’s not just the virtual reality experience of seeing the world through another person’s eyes that expands empathy and concern. It is also an intellectual agility—literally a kind of intelligence—which encourages one to step outside the parochial constraints of one’s birth and station, to consider hypothetical worlds, and to reflect back on the baits, impulses, and institutions that govern one’s beliefs and values.” – Stephen Pinker, The Better Angels of our Nature

  “Go home and shave your armpits with a fresh razor!”

  44. (Nessa)

  “How are you holding up, luv?” Nessa said. She and Ken slowly walked, arm in arm, through Patricia’s home. It hurt, surprisingly, to think of Portland by any other name. Patricia – not Pat or Pattie, thank you ever so much – had a request in for an audience with Dubuque, and some functionaries had scheduled the appointment for after dinner CDT, 6 PM local time. Until then, they had time to kill.

  Wide hallways with wooden floors and oriental rugs, deep carpets in cozy rooms with cushy sofas, bedrooms with sitting areas all decorated in different styles. The owner liked oil paintings of flowers and still lives, and classical sculptures tucked in odd corners. A formal garden surrounded the pool and sat between the main house, the guest house, and a cabana, with little walkways, private corners, and more sculptures.

  Nessa had been a little leery about taking time for themselves, separated from the others, but Uffie and Diana insisted, worn out by a leader God’s exclusive attention, Nessa’s guess. Ken, who understood reality better and could visualize strong-arm tactics involving the normal human expedients of knives and guns, thought they were safe because Patricia gave her word.

  “Frazzled.”

  “You are walking a bit fast.”

  “Sorry.” A perfunctory ‘sorry’. Ken’s footsteps crunched along the garden trail and he didn’t slow. Nessa elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re scared, Nessa, aren’t you?” Ken said.

  Nessa turned away and buried herself under Ken’s arm as they walked. “I’m far more than scared. Dubuque’s the big bugaboo enemy and every time we’ve tried to even think about doing something to him we’ve gotten cold feet.”

  “Cold bath time, Elorie style?”

  “If I had one available I’d take one,” Nessa said. She sniveled a bit, missing Elorie, Dave and the twins. “I’m not happy being anywhere near a Port…Patricia – Dubuque prize-fight. I know when I’m overmatched.” Gaaack. At least she had some leverage with Patricia. She didn’t have squat with Dubuque.

  “Want to run? Vanish into the woodwork of life? I have some friends in LA who would take us in and hide us. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve hidden people.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Nessa said. “I don’t want to leave, not now. Not if I can talk you out of this.”

  “We’re going to die, Nessa,” Ken said. “If not today, soon. Why else did we allow ourselves to give up the twins?” Nessa turned and hugged him tight enough to stop his stroll. They huddled under a cluster of crepe myrtles. “Things are coming to a head and we’re nothing in this. Not militarily. We’re targets, nothing more. Zilch. Less than zilch.”

  Ken’s funk had deepened, Nessa decided. He had been going downhill ever since they had discovered the dolphins were Gods. The loss of Dave, Elorie and the twins hadn’t helped at all.

  Not too long ago they could both balk any God on the planet. No longer. Their lack of hubris, though, seemed to grease their arguments. Nessa found this interesting. “I’m still curious to see how everything turns out.”

  “We have children, Nessa!” Ken said. “They’re our responsibility! Even if they’re fostered out.”

  This was new.

  “Uh huh,” Nessa said. “I just want them to grow up in a world without religious thought police and tangibly enforced personal morality.”

  “This sounds like hubris.” Which they had agreed to avoid.

  “To think I can change things?” Nessa shrugged, and prodded Ken back into their stroll. “Of course I can, just not by force. I’m not scheming, either. If we hadn’t already decided to foster the kids out with Dave and Elorie in the long run I would be thinking differently. But now? Right this moment? I’m good to run with what we’re doing now, as far as things go. I’m hoping you are, too.”

  “The twins are captive of Betrayer!”

  “I trust her totally,” Nessa said. “Until the point she decides to betray me, of course.” In some ways, she loved Betrayer as much as she loved anyone. She couldn’t say any such thing aloud. People might think her crazy or something.

  Ken didn’t respond, save to not respond and not detach himself from her. “There’s going to be a war, a big war,” he said, as they came to a fountain fifty paces later. A stone woman in Grecian clothing dumped water out of an urn. “Dubuque’s Paladin attack on Orlando’s lair and Verona’s Paladin attack on the Watchers are just the first moves in this new squad-level war, and we know about the horrible aftermath of both attacks. Worse, much worse is coming, and we’re going to get stuck right there in the center of the conflict.”

  “Uh huh,” Nessa said. Dana had died, yes, but her screwy so-called death Nessa still didn’t understand was a large enough sacrifice to save the rest of her group with only nine other deaths among Orlando and the Kid God’s soldiers. None of the Watchers had died, yet, but the attack had reduced three Watchers to bodiless ghosts and killed over two hundred innocent villagers, caught in the crossfire, slain without a stray tear. Neither of them had expected Verona and his main patsy Lodz to be more bloodthirsty than Dubuque, but perhaps they hadn’t looked close enough.

  Four of Patricia’s enchantment toting soldiers walked by, nodding as they passed. Honoring them as powers and allies. Patricia’s preponderance of women soldiers encouraged Nessa. She hadn’t ever seen or imagined an army over half women before. All four who they had passed had been women. They seemed both harder and gentler than male soldiers, a paradox Nessa hadn’t yet resolved in her head. Ken sure noticed, his eyeballs glued to them as they passed. Nessa had to admit that all four, in excellent physical shape, were definite eyeball bait.

  “Kennnnn…” Nessa said, a half groan. She guided them off to the right, down a path that smelled of pizza. Ken followed the pizza smell to the cabana, now functioning as a commissary, and guided Nessa inside. “You want me to eat this crap?”

  Ken nodded and untangled himself from her arm. After a short and quiet wait in line, Ken grabbed four
square pieces of institutional pizza and a salad. Nessa, stomach rumbling, delighted Ken by grabbing a plate of some sausage, noodles and marinara sauce. Along with some lemonade.

  They sat. “I don’t think we’re done pestering Gods, though,” Nessa said.

  Ken nodded. “Neither do Uffie or Diana. We need to be ready to move and act, though, at the drop of a hat. The war might start at any moment.”

  “You almost sound like you’re looking forward to the fighting.”

  Ken snorted and glared at her.

  She stole his last piece of pizza and ate it before Ken could respond.

  He glowered for a moment before laughing.

  “I can sense you worrying about me,” he said. “I’ve been worrying about you, for instance, about how I could put this together without the all-powerful and all-knowing Nessa finding out. I’ve been worrying about your changes and how they help and hurt us.”

  Nessa tapped her foot and swished her long braid around to grab. “What the fuck are you talking about, Bolnick?” she said – or, rather, Left Sock said.

  He just smiled and began to carry her, teek style, an inch off the floor. She stood, embarrassed to be hovering around in a sitting position. “This had better be good or I’m going to use your mind for target practice.”

  “Oh, this is better than good,” he said. He hovered them back to the main house, down four halls and then into the room across the hall from where Uffie and Diana hid and rested. Their place was quite nicely done up, a Japanese style apartment. Ken hovered them to the bathroom and Nessa gasped.

  Ken had filled the oversized tub with chocolate. Partly melted. She hadn’t sensed the chocolate before she saw it. She shook herself out of Ken’s teek grasp and stuck in a finger. Warm, but not too warm. Without a second thought, she shucked her clothes and slipped into the heavenly mixture.

  “You’re teeking this liquid, aren’t you,” Nessa said. He nodded and smiled. She suggestively sucked on a chocolate finger. He responded with his teek, sending shivers up and down her body as chocolate went where no chocolate had ever gone before. “You going to climb in here with me or just diddle me from a distance?”

  “I’ll get in there eventually,” he said, teeking a slow chocolate wave up to curl around her breasts. She moaned. “But since I know you’ll enjoy this a lot more than I would, I’m going to give you lots of time by yourself, first.”

  He brought the chocolate over the rest of her body, covering her. Nessa lost herself in pleasure and became the chocolate.

  “Well. Portland. I’m shocked,” Dubuque’s projection said, sarcastic and utterly undiplomatic. “I assume you have an explanation for all of this?” He stood in the large open area of Patricia’s office, in front of her desk. Patricia didn’t sit behind her desk but in front of it, in a comfortable leather chair no different from her other guest chairs. Nessa and Ken sat with Uffie and Diana by the bookcases to Patricia’s right, well away from the line of fire.

  Nessa smiled at Dubuque and wondered if anyone had noticed how uniform-like Dubuque’s white outfits had become. With half her mind she replayed the memories of the chocolate orgy, reveling in each second. She was so relaxed she could take anything from nearly anybody.

  “I hear you’re listening to Telepaths as well,” Patricia said, deadpan. “I requested this audience to pass along some new insights and changes. I’ve changed my name to Patricia Solis, Living Saint of the Portland territory.” Nessa blinked in surprise; she thought they had talked Patricia out of any ‘God’ references in her name. Patricia apparently had a flexible mind. Nessa licked her lips, tasted chocolate, and decided she had no reason to object. To Patricia, the addition wasn’t even a lie, Patricia being far more saintly in her actions than Dubuque and the other Living Saints. “I’ve been persuaded that becoming more human is a worthwhile endeavor. The name change is an obvious change to make. A human name for a more human Living Saint.”

  Dubuque backed away and rubbed his hands together. “Whatever for?”

  “Long term, Dubuque, we can’t help but become monsters if we can’t find a way to stay connected to humanity. That’s the lesson of the Watchers.” Pause. “Our human antecedent saints knew this lesson and retained their human names into their Sainthood. We need to listen to their ancient holy lessons.”

  “We’re humanity’s leaders, Portland.”

  “We cannot lead unless we can understand who we are leading. The Telepaths and the Angelic Host have opened my eyes to this.”

  Dubuque glowered. “You listen to the Host too much. They are our judges, not our advisors. Listening to the Telepaths on a matter such as this is far worse. They are our servants!”

  “You do want to be saved from the mess you’ve landed yourself in, don’t you, Dubuque?” Ken said, stomping right into the two Gods’ discussion. He had come out of the orgy keyed up, likely overdosed on various funny chocolate alkaloids he didn’t often experience in such quantities. Nessa gave him a languid thumbs up.

  Uffie and Diana, though, paled. They didn’t think they had the right to involve themselves in this conversation, or, for that matter, even be in this room with these two leader-Gods. They had a point but the wrong reaction to the sausage-making going on right in front of their eyes. Patricia could barter away their lives in an instant if they didn’t keep close tabs on her.

  And they couldn’t call on the Godslayer for help without risking her falling to Dubuque.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Dubuque said.

  “Take a human name,” Ken said, radiating an unstated ‘too bad’. “Begin the process of reclaiming your lost humanity. We can save you.”

  “Save me from what?” Dubuque said, raising his voice a little. “You have no right to judge me and say I need saving.”

  “I disagree,” Patricia said. “Ken has some places to show you which will illuminate the downside of our divine activities, a tour I heartily recommend you agree to. Furthermore, the Host has tacitly affirmed Nessa’s status as the Daughter of Light. Persona was right when she identified Nessa as supremely important to us, I was right when I embraced her as a daughter. We now know the dolphin Ha-qodeshim, not the damned-by-God Watchers, chose her for this role. The Ha-qodeshim are much like us and must be listened to. They have a lot to teach us and unlike the Watchers, they aren’t destined to return to God any eon soon.”

  Nessa smiled, embracing the overblown status Patricia gave her. Not that she would turn it down, mind you. She didn’t think the label was worth its weight in dog food.

  “Balderdash.” Dubuque’s demeanor grew haughty. “I’m not submitting to any pointless tour dreamt up by someone else’s enslaved Telepaths. Nor am I acknowledging anything regarding the Watchers or the Ha-qodeshim. Furthermore, I refuse to take a human name of any sort. The name the Host gave me serves as my anointment from God. I would no more turn my back on my anointment than suicide. Portland, if you persist in this, you know the consequences.”

  “That I do,” Patricia said. “And the name’s Patricia Solis.”

  Dubuque’s projection turned off; Patricia called out to her people, and they moved Dubuque’s dormant projection back to wherever the God kept such things.

  “Wow,” Diana said. “Ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” Patricia laughed, fixing Diana in her eyes. “Please don’t look at me that way. Your group can stand up to Dubuque as well. Something Nessa and Ken have done, before you joined them. You’re in the major leagues, Diana. You need to learn to play this game.”

  Diana gulped. “Pardon my reaction, then, Patricia. I struck out on my own to avoid these games; I have trouble dealing with stress and get antisocial.” She paused to gather herself. “You just broke with the City of God, didn’t you?”

  “I did far more,” Patricia said. “I declared war on the City of God. Only my war isn’t going to be anything like the earlier conflict: no covert actions, no armies. Nor is this public, yet. There’s ample wiggle room for both of us.”

  “You�
��re going to back the protesters trying to re-establish the United States government?” Uffie said.

  The God nodded.

  Yes! Nessa pumped her fist, well, as best as her languid puddle of a body could pump a fist.

  Patricia gave her a bemused look. “If you don’t mind, Nessa, I would like to keep your group here for a few days. I see some ways to train Diana and Uffie, to help them better focus their minds and abilities through the coming weeks, and keep them from folding from stress.”

  That caused the two of them to shiver. Diana looked over to Nessa, half pleading with her eyes that Nessa say ‘no’. Uffie didn’t, understanding that Patricia was calling in her favor.

  “How long is a few days?” Nessa said, still half lost in remembrance. “We need to go lean on Akron again now that you’ve broken with Dubuque.”

  “Don’t worry about Akron,” Patricia said. “I’m talking to her as we speak. And, by the way, she’s agreed to revert to the name Christina Maxwell once this goes public.”

  “Uh, once this goes public?” Nessa said, her memories of the chocolate orgy gone, her screwy twisted anger Left Sock voice edging forward. “Isn’t this going public now?”

  “No,” Patricia said, with emphasis. “Right now, the only God who’s going public with this is me. Only my most trusted contacts will know. I’m not going to publicly break with the City of God at the mass media level until Dubuque takes the first step and publicly kicks me out. Until that happens, none of my other God friends will be going public with their name reversions, nor will they be breaking with the City of God. Trust me on this – a single revolt will harm the City of God far worse than a bunch of drib and drab defections.”

  “I don’t understand,” Uffie said, barely repressing a ‘ma’am’. “What if Dubuque doesn’t kick you out?”

  “If he doesn’t, my politicking will succeed and all of the City of God ahem Living Saints will revert to their human names and stop being ahem venerated. Reforming the City of God from within is better than destroying it; taking over the City of God from within and having the City of God allow the re-establishment of the legitimate United States government would be delicious irony. But, don’t worry, I’m sure Dubuque will do our dirty work for us, kick me out, and take the Mission hit. If my own plans work, I’ll take half the City of God with me when he does.”