Apollo
The Sun God was not particularly bright. But he was stubborn. And to the constant annoyance of the rest of them, he was also at the center of everything.
“I’ve made up my mind,” he said, with determined aloofness.
“I don’t understand,” said the Goddess of Wisdom, “This is incredibly shortsighted.”
“I disagree,” said the Sun God, “On the contrary, I’m concerned I’m the only one truly thinking in the long term.”
The whole pantheon waited and a few moments of dead air fell across them. No one dared to interrupt before the Sun was finished speaking. Then finally.
“Walk me through it one more time,” said the God of War.
The Sun God smiled, and it was true, there was a warmth there among his smile. But also a horrible gleaming brilliance. Like a flash too strong could blind even a God. Or in an instant with a flicker of will, extinguish all you ever had been or could hope to dream you might be. He was a thing of beauty. And of terror.
Now he spoke with a dangerous purpose.
“Don’t you see, they’ve failed us,” he said, “Down on Earth. They dance and they feud and they bicker. Make their little wars and lives of little meaning. Nothing of significance at all. Such petty little things. It’s time we finally acknowledge what we’ve done. So let us see clear, and speak clear. We have failed, my friends. But now, the greatest failure of all would be to continue on in blind and knowing ignorance of the truth: that we have failed. Our creations, these humans, the people of Earth, they are nothing but a stain. A waste. And a ruin. I say we burn them all. It would only take a moment. Just a moment, I surge, I burn. And I burn them all. And then we start again.”
The room was silent as the Gods considered the prospect of a brief and permanent deluge of flame.
“I’m right,” said the Sun God, “Goddess Earth, help me. You know I’m right. We’ve done it before. So many times. And life always comes back. It returns. New and stronger and better in every way. So why not again?”
The Goddess of Earth had been circumspect, and now was looking down at her feet. Coincidentally, of all the Gods, she alone went barefoot. There was an energy, an optimism about her. Normally. Now however she seemed a being of deep and serious focus.
“There would be death,” she spoke low, “But you are right. There would be life too afterwards. And maybe even more life. I loved them at first. The humans. They are the first thing we ever made that could think and build for themselves. But their greed. They are too hungry, I think. If we do as you say, they would die. And most of the rest of life would die too. But the world itself would survive. And in time, there could be new life. Maybe something more. And better?”
The Sun God shone proud and looked from face to face. Wisdom still showed skepticism. He met her gaze, and she knew to speak.
“What if they’re the best we ever have.” she said, her voice low and clear and strong and without doubt, “They are imperfect. But they are also unique. Earth said it herself. They think. They build. They strive to understand. We here are the manifestation of the Universe. And they are the first time the Universe has ever looked in at itself and wondered. Why? Why am I here, and what should I do now that I have been given the gift of life? I will dare to say it. They are better, than the fish and the rocks and the birds and the waves. They dream of more. And even their doubt, their fear, their jealousy. These are things that we ourselves as Gods can never know. In that way at least, they are greater even, than us. And should we choose your path of fire, we cannot know if the thing that comes next will ever dare to equal their wonder.”
“Your petty love is blind Wisdom. They do not dream enough,” said the God of Wonder, “All they do is sit around and waste their lives. All the progress they ever make is in pursuit of greed and war.”
“Yes, what about war?” the God of War asked, with evident self concern.
He was a new god, in the scope of things. The product of mankind in fact. At first he had been small and little worth concern. Squabbles among tribes and the like had birthed him. Then as time grew and the passions of man increased in cruelty and desperation, War had become strong and proud and horrible. Some believed he thought himself equal to the Sun. And then this greatest most recent war among men had been the most grotesque of all. On Earth, they called it the Second World War. And in fact, its brutality had birthed a strange new deity, the God of Extermination. He lingered still sickly and strange at the edge of the room. He did not speak. Never had, for he had no want of words or understanding. He was all eyes and hands and drooping skin. The manifestation of gas chambers and fireballs. The older gods did not like him. But he was there. Birthed from the nothing by the whims and hates of mankind. And even if Extermination ever did speak, on this current argument, they need not ask his opinion. The death of all mankind would be his single great desire.
“What about war,” said the Sun God, “War is inevitable. Now that it is here, it will never leave the Earth again. You may rest for a time. And I know all of us would like a rest from this eternity. But whatever life comes next on earth, it will have war. You can be sure of that. Greed is a constant. And look now, on this strange thing they do. Their Cold War. A war without conflict, a war without blood. It may go on forever. And what then of you, my friend, War? Is it not better to start again? And to find, in a few years time, some new life there that does not lack the courage to wage real war?”
The God of War sat, strong and tall still but getting flabby now. He was sick of all the waiting. He gave the Sun a solemn nod of the head.
And that alone was almost enough. They knew that all of this, the whole conversation, was just a fit of ceremony. They could squabble and disagree. Fight out their little arguments as if they were short lived humans themselves. But really, nothing any of them said or did here would matter. Not against that glorious will. The brutal and desperate blinding strength of the Sun. He would do whatever he wanted. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. Opened them with a horrible stare, and then. Just before he would surge with heat and furious finality. He saw a pale white hand raised in silent, muted opposition.
“What now?”
It was the Moon. The Goddess of the Moon. Small and quiet against his boisterous brilliance. They were a strange pair. Two ancient things in contrast and opposition. And yet he had known her almost as long as he had known himself. A kind and gentle whisper in the dark eternity of night. And company is a precious thing to a God.
“What is it,” he said, more quietly this time.
For as long as the Moon had known the Sun, she had spoken quietly. Slowly, gently. With a simple wonder and curiosity that said she did not mean to oppose him. Knew she could not. But only hoped that maybe, barely, when she spoke she just might change his mind. And even now, she knew not to voice the emotion behind her opposition. She knew it wouldn’t matter. But she had lived close to the Earth, far closer than the Sun could ever be. She knew the planet well as it turned and changed and lived all the time. Even now, these past few years as it grew blinking lights and aspirations of its own. She had come to love the life and wanting change of this pale blue dot. Now here at the edge of Earth’s destruction, she gazed down one last time, and saw a miracle rising from its rocky surface. She spoke a single word. Proud and true and doubtless. That single word of rebellion the bravest moment in all her history. And even still the simple sight of that miracle was more than she could ever hope to say.
“Look.”
And they did. All of them. These Gods, the collective embodiment of the Universe and the things man had made. They looked and they saw as a line of fire arced high above the continents and up across the seas. Through the air, above the clouds, on and into the atmosphere. And even there, beyond the edge of everything man had right to know, even there, that line of brilliant fire pushed on into the dark. On above the horizon. On past reason. On towards the promise of the unknown. There was a little ship of men, those desperate greedy little things, here beyond their way and past any justification. Here they were, dreamers in the face of eternity and annihilation. A little ship of men, hellbent on progress, and the promise of another world.
The Moon smiled as she saw them make their way. A line of crimson smoke billowing amidst the dark of empty space. Finally she would touch the spark of life she’d seen from afar for so long. And all the rest of the Gods too. They stood transfixed at the reckless pride of these mere mortal bones. And even the Sun saw there in the glorious fire a reflection of himself. A drive to be greater than any could ever ask. He smiled too, and watched as the children of Earth dared to cross the heavens. Maybe there was hope for them still.
