ã€ŠPrometheusã€‹


 Day 0

    The clay was supple in his hands. Forming, conforming to his will. Shifting with pressures present, unfelt, seen, understood. His fingers were nimble. His imagination was vivid. His goal was both beautifully simple and extremely complex: make a companion for the Titans. In the years, the thousands of years, since he and his brothers had come into being, Prometheus had discovered two truths: first, life alone was unbearably boring. Second, life with his fellow Titans was unbearably unbearable. He intended to solve both problems with one elegant solution. He pulled the clay into tiny little strands, rounding them, adding bumps where joints would be, curving the newly formed fingers so that they were nearly closed into tiny fists.

    The problem, as he saw it, was as two-fold as his truths: his brother, Cronus, was overbearing, and the rest of Mother Gaea¡¯s children had as much imagination as a flock of seagulls¡ªwhich Prometheus was personally inclined to think was the dumbest of all his family¡¯s creations.

    He smoothed out the forehead of the tiny creature and added hair, wispy light hair, almost ethereal in nature, not an easy thing to do in the gritty medium he had chosen.

    There was no specific reason that he had to make his experiment out of clay. He had initially toyed with the idea of using gold, an easy medium to work with, but he had worried that his creation would take the attributes of the material¡ªbeautiful, but cold and ultimately useless. He shuddered; he had enough company like that from the other Titans. A whole world populated with mortal versions of his siblings¡­perish the thought¡ªhe had moved on quickly from that idea.

    His next consideration had been brass. However, he did not think a people so obstinate and unyielding as brass would survive long in a world of Titans.

    Iron was a promising option. But he worried that a people made out of iron would be so industrious that they would neglect the more important considerations of art and beauty, entertainment and people. He was not making companions for his loneliness just so they could work themselves to an early graves and be buried in piles of assets.

    What was left was clay: the most common and corrupt of all the materials, but also the one with by far the most potential. After all, try growing a garden in a field of gold or bronze or steel and see what you get. Only clay was supple enough to make creative beings capable of beauty and intrigue, surprise and friendship. That is, capable relieving the ineffable boredom of his immortal conclave.

    Having completed the body, hands, and head of his creation, Prometheus set his will to the most ambitiously difficult part of the whole project. The face was a study in patience and precision. Set the eyes just a fraction off, make the nose just a little crooked, leave the ear canal just barely too small, and he may well be condemning the whole race to extinction before it was ever born. After all, of the five senses that he had finally decided to gift to his creation, four would be situated in the face. He pushed and pulled and smoothed and creased with minute movements, applying just enough pressure to guide the clay without smearing it.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    When he was done with everything but the eyes, he paused to examine his work. A tiny face stared up at him. Both he and his siblings had been born from the joining of Gaea and Sky as fully formed an deific beings with nearly unlimited power. Prometheus himself had seen how disastrous such a full bestowal of power without an equal measure of wisdom had been. The early days after their arrival there had been destruction and ruin. Infighting so fierce that it had nearly rent the earth and heaven in two before the petulant siblings had realized that their own power could be checked by the power of the others. Even with this realization, there were sundry foolish events that, Prometheus was convinced, could have been avoided if only the power had been granted in equal measure as wisdom gained. His brother Atlas, poor fool, was a prime example. So caught up in his own power and so incapable of wisdom of thought (or, indeed, original thought¡ªAtlas¡¯ power residing primarily in his forearms and back and not in his head) had he been, that he had arrogantly decided to forestall any competitors to his position by ensuring that none such could ever be born again. It had been a tremendous effort for him to lift the sky, thus separating mother Gaea from her lover and undoing the coupling that had begot Atlas himself. At first he had stayed there out of bull headed determination¡ªthen he had realized that he was stuck. Having once lifted the sky, if Atlas now tried to replace his burden, then the force with which the sky would once again rush into the arms of his love would not only kill Atlas himself, but would very possibly destroy the rest of the Titans along with every living thing on earth as the entire surface was terraformed in a cataclysm that may even flatten mighty mount Olympus. Atlas had been stuck there for nearly ten thousand years now and Prometheus didn¡¯t see him moving anytime soon.

    In order to avoid similar events and hopefully improve the decision making process of his experiment, Prometheus had decided to make them ¡°grow up¡±. That is, they would start utterly helpless, unable to walk, unable to talk, unable to even feed themselves. As they learned the basic rules of kindness and strength, they would grow to be able to act for themselves, but without any power or trust, only once they had lived long enough to learn true wisdom would they be fully formed and able to act autonomously with a full measure of their power.

    Prometheus inhaled a massive breath.

    The eyes were all that he had left to sculpt. The eyes were the face of the face with equal measures difficulty and importance. The eyes were not the soul, neither were they some window thereto as Mnemosyne was fond of philosophizing, but they were the manifestation of the soul and should Prometheus do these incorrectly, the whole race could end up violent and hateful. He no longer sculpted the clay; now he caressed it to his will. He started from the outside and worked his way in, taking nearly as long on each eye as he had taken on the whole of the lower body.

    At the moment he finished the second, perfect pupil, the gray-brown clay began to bleed color. At first it was the eyes which radiated vibrant turquoise in splashes around the pupil, resolving into perfect circles as the rest of the eye faded to a soft white. Then, a pulse of pink-orange light under the cheek worked its way to the surface and slowly became a swirl which spread across the body.

    Suddenly, the now warm, tiny body shuddered in Prometheus¡¯ arms and then the chest began rising and falling as it started to breath softly.

    Prometheus stared at the infant with something akin to wonder. Had he really just created this beautiful little creature?

    ¡°Welcome, Epimethius.¡± Prometheus whispered to the creature.

    The child¡¯s face scrunched up as it began to cry.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Prometheus said, ¡°you will provide great entertainment to me. You and your kind will give my life interest once again.¡±

 5 Days

    Prometheus punched the mountain face; it split in two.

    It was day five and his experiment was¡­doing absolutely nothing. That wasn¡¯t quite it exactly. After all, he had designed the creature to be this way. He knew it would grow more interesting in time, but then¡­he hadn¡¯t expected it to take so much work right at the start.

    Currently, the thing refused to even recognize his presence. It would ¡°goo¡± its satisfaction and would cry the reverse, force Prometheus to feed or clean it constantly, and sometimes just cry for no discernible reason at all until Prometheus was nearly ready to leave the little beast in some valley and go back to live in the opulence of Olympus with his siblings. In fact, he had actually tried to do just that, once¡ªthinking that a life of boredom surely must be better than one of drudgery.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    His conscience had compelled him only so far as first thinking he should find a sheltered place to leave the boy. Then he thought it would need accessible food. Fourteen steps of abandonment later, he was a fully melted emotional puddle apologizing to the helpless child for even considering such a thing.

    The baby, of course, had been sleeping the entire time. His little breaths came quick and soft, arms occasionally waved tiny fists in the air above his peaceful face as if in his dreams he were knocking on his father¡¯s chest¡ªor rather, the door to his father¡¯s heart.

    So Prometheus had stayed. Even now, three days later, he was not sure why. He loathed the creature for its constant neediness and total inability to do anything, but simultaneously loved him for¡­what? Prometheus didn¡¯t know.

    The child began to whimper softly and Prometheus hurried to feed him.

 3 Months

    Prometheus never would have expected to have stuck to such a job for so long. In the last two-and-a-half months he had variously felt his task harder than Atlas¡¯ and¡­

    Prometheus bounced the child in his arms and softly said his name:

    ¡°Epimethius.¡±

    The infant turned his head toward the sound and¡ªwhen his eyes landed on Prometheus¡¯ face¡ªsmiled a smile that would have made Gaea herself move from her place in the heavens. For just a moment he held contact with Prometheus¡¯ eyes. For that same moment, Prometheus himself felt held, suspended in the stark blue of those eyes. Never did sapphire shine with such radiance. The very ocean itself could not contain its depth. Then, as he gazed at those captivating pools of blue, Prometheus saw the future. He saw concourses of people building walls and houses and palaces and temples. He saw wheels and carts populate the streets. He saw plows and irrigation grow across the fields. He saw gifted ones crushing pigments and making paint. He saw beautiful landscapes captured on walls and canvases. He saw stone shaped by patient men so that the statues which emerged looked almost more real than the sculptors. He saw men lie and cheat. He saw hate and greed. He saw men grow angry and women weep. He saw the making of blades, the working of metals and skins and lumber and rope into terrible tools of death. He saw great fields of men¡ªstriving for dominance, dying for pride. He saw rivers of blood and filth separating the corpses, making each man an island in a sea of despair. He heard the cries and curses of wives and daughters. He felt nations crack and families tear. He saw prejudice and distrust. He saw a boy, on a hillside. He saw the wind playing with the grass at the boy¡¯s feet. He saw a reed flute in the boy¡¯s hand. He saw twenty or thirty goats wandering aimlessly around the boy, occasionally coming to nuzzle his hand, mostly eating grass contentedly around the clearing. He saw the boy raise the flue to his lips and heard as a simple melody echoed off the surrounding cliffs and brushed the water in the golden twilight. He saw peace.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    He saw Epimethius¡¯ soft blue infant eyes blink as they gazed back into his.

    There was a long way to go yet. The sound of a goat somewhere down the valley made the infant look in that direction.

    ¡°You will be terrible and beautiful.¡± Prometheus whispered. ¡°You will be more than the gods.¡± it was the first blasphemy he had ever uttered against himself.

 10 Months

    Wine, fine meats, drunken follies, raucous laughter, rinse, repeat.

    Prometheus felt too keenly the boorish barbarity of these feasts. He moved from the finely carved entryway of the gilded hall to stand as inconspicuously as any Titan could near one of the many massive pillars that lined either side of the room. Fortunately, though he didn¡¯t doubt that he was conspicuous, in a room full of megalomaniacs every person is primarily obvious to exactly one person. Gods, it seemed, bore an especial knack for putting both the ¡°mega¡± and the ¡°maniac¡± into their defining personality type.

    Prometheus glanced around the hall; Oceanus and Helios were both sprawled on lavish couches, Oceanus surrounded by piles of polished white pearl and deep red and blue corals, while Helios was veritably encased by polished or cut gems so that every time he moved the room exploded with light and color, both gods were also surrounded by literal piles of the best foods and wines, and each was rapidly summoning spirits to serve them and just as rapidly dismissing these servile apparitions on whatever whim in a show of dominance, all the while glancing hawk-like at the other to see if they had yet conceded the power of their respective domain.

    Mnemosyne was laughing in that way she did¡ªthrowing her head back and releasing just four or five calculated syllables of mirth¡ªas she played her usual mind games with Coeus who looked very put out, as could be seen in his vitriolic stare which remained leveled at Phoebe.

    Crius and Iapetus were engaging in self-aggrandizing debauchery. Meanwhile, Theia, Tethys, and Themis were sensationally laying plans for an as of yet underdeveloped portion of Greece; the result promised to be a wonderland of adventure and beauty all based on a central theme of¡­well, Prometheus didn¡¯t doubt it would be an experience.

    Here and there, in-between and out from among flitted nymphs, serving the Gods and, in turn, trying to catch their eye in a vain hope that one of these deific beings would prefer her for a wife over one of the radiant goddesses who barely deigned to notice the ¡°help,¡± unless their husbands stared too hard.

    Hyperion, Prometheus¡¯ first-born brother, alone, sat quietly in his seat, observing the proceedings. If he had noticed Prometheus, he didn¡¯t give any indication.

    Everything together provided a good scene for his current purposes. Prometheus would shake the world tonight, but he wanted to gauge the general mood first.

    Cronus, the king of the gods, entered, with Rhea by his side. They made their way to the raised dais at the end of the hall and sat in regal brood on what could no more be called a throne than a god¡ªa porcelain doll. Indeed, each of the other eight gods in the hall sat in magnificent thrones of their own, and any of those¡ªif thrones could be capable of such an act¡ªwould have groveled in awe at the feet of the royal couple¡¯s seats of power.

    As Cronus sat, the rest of the noise in the room quieted; an impressive feat in a room of Titans, even for Cronus.

    ¡°Brothers,¡± Cronus never acknowledged his sisters when addressing a mixed group. However, Prometheus was by no means certain that it wasn¡¯t a victory for him to address anyone at all. At the moment, he was literally the center of the universe¡ªand he knew it. The annoying thing about Cronus¡ªone of the multiple trashpiles full of annoying things¡ªwas that he acted like location and importance were synonymous. ¡°Welcome to my feast!¡± Cronus continued. ¡°We are the Titans, I am your king¡­¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Prometheus braced for a long winded, unbearably boring, speech. Looking around, he saw the others doing the same. He even caught Oceanus yawning behind his hand¡ªthat was folly, even for one with the might of the oceans behind him. Cronus had spoken for a full year once. By that point in his life¡ªafter the first six thousand years¡ªtime hadn¡¯t seemed to matter to Prometheus. What¡¯s a year next to forever? Prometheus could sit perfectly still while a fly danced on his eyelid for a year, literally without batting an eye. But after that speech¡­the grapes had been fatter, the trees had been taller, the wind had been more refreshing, the pita had been more delicious, he had blessed every second that he was free. At some point during that speech one of the other gods had dared to fall asleep. As far as Prometheus knew there were still bits of Grios floating around the East Indian Sea. The worst part was, Prometheus had felt a little jealous at the time. Even leaving in a confetti cannon meant leaving, not having to listen anymore, ever again. Prometheus harbored a secret belief that the worst punishment in Hades was a little white room where you had to listen to Cronus¡¯ ego speak for eternity.

    This was totalitarian bureaucracy at its finest¡ªand it made Prometheus sick.

    A noise interrupted the monologue: the crash of fine metal against marble followed by a sharp intake of breath. Then the stillness of horror. One of the serving Nymphs had tripped in her eagerness to bring wine at the beck of Crius.

    Except for a barely perceptible tremble, the Nymph remained perfectly still, huddled on the floor as the wine spread out from her as though it were blood draining from her body, nobody moved.

    The other Nymphs especially remained perfectly still, horrified at the blunder, unwilling to draw attention to themselves by offering help, each certain of what was to follow. The Titans looked on in bored amusement. Some of them were, no doubt, glad to have Cronus interrupted. Though all feared and perhaps even respected him, Prometheus¡¯ own opinion of these speeches was almost universally shared. In fact, one of the audience full of gods had probably intentioned the accident with their unfathomable power just for the sake of the interruption itself. If that was the case, however, they would never admit it.

    For his part, Cronus was white faced, with clenched jaw, and bright purple veins appearing on his arms and forehead. His eyes, radiant gold iris and pearl lined whites alike, had bled to a black so deep they seemed to actively devour the light in the room. The unpardonable sin had been committed. He had been defied.

    ¡°What¡± He said the words slowly with a pause between each one. ¡°is the meaning of this?¡±

    The question was rhetorical. The only meaning there could be was the one that he decided. Everyone knew it. The Nymph¡¯s shoulders shook with new force as she sobbed silently.

    ¡°You dare to interrupt the king of the gods: He who threw off Uranus and freed the Titans from the Earth: the one power to rule all powers? You¡­defy¡­me?¡±

    More rhetorical questions. The nymph said nothing.

    ¡°Stand up.¡± Cronus snapped.

    The nymph¡¯s body moved like a puppet on a string. Though she would have gladly moved on her own¡ªtried to show her devotion to the Titan by prompt obedience, that option was no longer available. Cronus¡¯ will had been superimposed over hers. He pulled her toward him with jerky steps till she was standing directly in front of him, facing the gods at the table, many of whom now seemed eager for the stomach-turning spectacle that awaited.

    ¡°On your knees.¡± Cronus snapped.

    For the first time that evening, Prometheus felt the bundle under his cloak wriggle. In the silence of the feast hall the tiny grunts that came from it sounded to his ears like a herald¡¯s trumpet. Fortunately, nobody else seemed to notice. He bounced it lightly and prayed to whatever gods were still good that the child would remain silent. He knew what was coming.

    ¡°Those who disrespect me feel my wrath.¡± Cronus hissed.

    Prometheus felt his abdomen tighten. He turned and slipped out of the hall, shamefully¡ªthe thought with its accompanying emotion struck him for the first time in his life¡ªleaving the nymph to her horrible fate. Once, he would have sat through the spectacle with indifference. Now, the bundle under his cloak seemed to burn its condemnation of his apathetic inactions with every gentle breath it took. He was suddenly acutely aware of the many flaws in what had been his plan tonight.

 16 Months

    ¡°Rhea,¡± Prometheus followed his sister through a set of marble pillars. ¡°Don¡¯t you feel anything? He¡¯s taken five children from you already. Five!¡±

    ¡°My dear brother, whatever would I want with a child?¡± Rhea¡¯s dreamy voice drifted from her cherry red lips in an almost unconscious way.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t your blood boil to think that the flesh of your flesh is routinely devoured by your husband?¡±

    ¡°My what boil?¡±

    Prometheus silently cursed his own careless tongue. Epimethius had blood, Titans did not. He had been spending so much time with his secret that he had begun, almost, to think of himself as a man like Epimethius.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get caught up in the imagery, sister. The point is, what good could possibly come from it?¡±

    ¡°Good? Come from what? What do I care about good?¡±

    Prometheus felt the impenetrable incomprehension of irreconcilable experience. He drew a hand across his face.

    ¡°What do you want then?¡± He felt tired as he asked the question, as though his ten thousand years had become ten thousand eternities.

    ¡°Well, now.¡± Rhea sized him up with empty eyes. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind having a piece of you.¡±

    Prometheus shuddered at the suggestion.

    ¡°And what would that do for you?¡± He asked.

    Rhea threw her head back and laughed.

    ¡°Everything that Cronus doesn¡¯t.¡± She said, twirling a finger in her shining black hair.

    ¡°I offer you the security of a king who is not a child in temperament, and you care for nothing but your own pleasure?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Oh, please.¡± Rhea pursed her lips into a pout and turned so that Prometheus could see her exquisite profile. ¡°Are you surprised? Really? You¡¯re so very fond of saying that I, too, am a ¡®child in temperament¡¯. What else would you expect?¡±

    Prometheus leveled a stare at her. ¡°Even a child has some sense, enough to want equitable rule.¡±

    ¡°I hardly think a child would understand either the term ¡®equitable¡¯ or the concept ¡®rule¡¯ at all. And what makes you think a child of mine would be any different than our dear brother, my husband, who, I may remind you, would also be that child¡¯s father? If anything I should think he¡¯d turn out worse.¡±

    ¡°Cronus,¡± said Prometheus, ¡°was born a god your children are born as infants.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Rhea sneered. ¡°So I¡¯ve seen. Disgusting little creatures, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    Prometheus bit back the searing retort that seemed to naturally jump from his liver at her attack on the purity of infancy.

    ¡°I fail to see how that has any bearing on the kind of god one is.¡±

    ¡°It makes all the difference.¡± Prometheus snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it my¡ª¡± he cut off mid sentence, aware that he had already said too much.

    ¡°Seen what? A wriggling worm of a baby become a king? No thank you.¡±

    ¡°Fine, then,¡± Prometheus said, ¡°what about the promise of being in charge yourself?¡± That, finally, seemed to peak Rhea¡¯s interest. Power, after all, seemed to be the one thing that no Titan could pass up. However, the instant of interest quickly changed into suspicion.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to set me up.¡± She accused. ¡°You know I¡¯m weaker than Cronus. There¡¯s no way he would ever let me take power.¡±

    Prometheus tightened the corners of his mouth so that his face seemed to approximate a smile. ¡°There¡¯s no need for you to.¡±

    ¡°Stop speaking in contradictions, Prometheus. It doesn¡¯t suit you.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Prometheus replied. ¡°When I speak in contradictions, it¡¯s you it doesn¡¯t suit. It suits me just fine.¡±

    Rhea gave an over-dramatic sigh, calculated to show supreme exasperation.

    ¡°What I mean,¡± Prometheus continued, ¡°is that a child of two Titans, especially Titans such as Cronus and yourself would be endowed with substantial power. Why, such a one could harness the very power of the sky itself.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how replacing Cronus with some more powerful king helps me in any way.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious, isn¡¯t it?¡± Prometheus couldn¡¯t resist a patronizing tone. ¡°You will be able to raise your child to believe whatever you want. Your word will be truth to him. If once your child overthrows Cronus, then you will be the one in charge of the one in charge. Your child will be an extension of you yourself¡ªattuned to your will and obedient to your good.¡±

    Rhea was silent. For the first time in what Prometheus supposed was six-and-a-half thousand years, she seemed to be thinking.

 16 Months, 2 Weeks

    It was not his first summer. Indeed, the boy had just come through his second winter. But Prometheus was willing to accept that summer was not really summer when one could not yet walk by the streams and run through the meadows and go to bed remembering the soft touch of evening¡¯s last breath on their neck. In that sense, this was Epimethius¡¯ first taste of summer.

    ¡°Take care not to fall in the creek.¡± It was not that Prometheus didn¡¯t trust his charge¡¯s good sense, the boy showed remarkable intuition for one sixteen months old¡ªbut he was not overly trusting of the fickle river god, minor though he was, and his frolicsome court of water nymphs. Even in this tiny valley in the farthest corner of the world¡ªso far from the beauty of his Grecian homeland that the lowlands adorned the uninviting death of winter with bitter mantles of white snow¡ªeven here Prometheus and his care were plagued with deities. The only benefit to the imbeciles of this underwhelming, over-glorified archipelago was that they were so far beneath the ruling Titans¡¯ notice that there was almost no chance that word of Prometheus¡¯ son would ever get back to Cronus. That, for now, was imperative. And so, as loathsomely annoying as these divinities were, the mutual ignoration between them and Greece made their company a worthwhile trade.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Prometheus closed his eyes, trusting Epimethius with his own safety for just a moment, and felt the power of Helios on his skin. Despite his disdain for his brother personally, the long awaited relaxing of muscle and follicle that his warming power provided was a welcome comfort. Unfortunately, a moment was all he could spare for such purely self-centric pleasure.

    He opened his eyes in time to see his charge bouncing¡ªin the manner of the newly balanced and nearly sped¡ªdangerously close to the creek.

    ¡°Epimethius!¡±

 24 Months

    End goal, end goal, end goal. I will be queen of the universe. I will be in charge.

    Rhea threw her wine goblet against the wall. It was empty, of course. The wine goblet, that is; the wall was filled with a fine tapestry that had taken thirty four nymphs twelve years to weave.

    The glass wasn¡¯t supposed to have been empty. Three¡ªfour?¡ªtimes she had had it filled intending to sate her outflowing of emotional and physical discomfort by ruining the priceless tapestry with blood rivers of wine in a satisfying explosion across the delicate fibers. Wiping those glib faces off of the annoying woven figures seemed like a good cathartic vent for her discomfiture. But three¡ªfour?¡ªtimes she decided she needed the glass of wine more than the tapestry did. Factor in the necessary steadying drinks in-between, the refills, and of course the spur-of-the-moment I-really-need-this-right-now tip-the-bottle-back-and-swig-it-straight-s, and that made somewhere from twenty-three to thirty-six drinks consumed. It wasn¡¯t even close to that awful little word ¡°sufficient.¡± What a detestable use of language. Nothing was ever ¡°sufficient.¡± ¡°Sufficient¡± belonged in a festering sewage pit with words like ¡°satisfied¡± and ¡°content¡± and other such oxystyxcursedmoronic expressions that taunted you with a meaning that simply didn¡¯t exist. Rhea wished she had a wall to punch through for being a wall¡­or a Cronus to strangle for putting her through this, or a Prometheus to flay and burn for convincing her it was a good idea. Instead, she screamed at her serving Nymph for being lazy, finishing with an expletive laced injunction to fetch more wine on pain of any one of a number of colorful threats.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    She really hated being pregnant.

 27 Months

    Epimethius made another lap around the small house. Prometheus was starting to wonder whether he¡¯d designed the equilibrium feature correctly. The boy should be starting to¡ª

    The boy fell over.

    Well, that was a relief. There had only been two possibilities and one of them included the entire spices dying off after a horrifying millennia-long string of mundane nighttime accidents.

    Epimethius lay on the floor panting, eyes wide, probably wondering why the world was still moving.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, young one.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°it will stop soon.¡±

    Sure enough. After a few more moments of wonder at the experience of dizziness, the child hopped up and ran around the room again making Prometheus wonder about the short term memory feature instead.

    He turned his attention back to his work. It was on the table around which the boy was running circles. A fundamental problem of¡ª

    A tiny body thumped into his legs and he looked down to find Epimethius reaching up toward him.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Not now, Epimethius. I¡¯m busy.¡± Prometheus tried to shoo the toddler back to his play, but the child continued to reach, clearly wanting to be picked up.

    Prometheus sighed. It was demanding, having a son. He demanded near constant attention and barely left room for anything else in Prometheus¡¯ life. Even now, after two years, he always either needed to be fed, cleaned, or coddled to sleep.

    He grudgingly bent down and lifted the little boy into his arms.

    He had just turned his attention back to his task at hand, when he felt a tiny pair of arms around his neck and heard the child¡¯s voice say, ¡°Dada.¡±

    It was a new word in the world, one that was created by necessity of fitting the limited number of sounds in an underdeveloped mouth to the depth of meaning required by a profoundly expansive soul. Though it had never before been spoken, Prometheus knew instinctively that it meant both ¡°father¡± and ¡°I love you¡± simultaneously.

    As yet another first in his immortal life, one of many since the creation of Epimethius, he felt tears of joy in his eyes.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he choked out to the boy. ¡°I am your dada and you are my son.¡±

    He hugged the boy close and finally, two years after the start of his experiment, he felt the last vestiges of self interest melt out of his heart. This boy was not here to varietize his life. His son was life itself. Prometheus would do anything, be anyone, go anywhere, to keep the child safe and give him the best life. It was no longer a question of ¡°if¡± it was merely a question of ¡°how¡±.

    ¡°My son.¡± He whispered again and wept.

 30 Months

    The scream rent the sky and scalped the earth. Three miles away, a flock of three-hundred-sixty-one pigeons took startled flight. Waves of nearly tangible pain radiated from an epicenter, causing fish to swim in erratic circles. Locust, normally expert navigators in their crowds of thousands, jumped into each other, collided with walls, or spasmed on the ground in a sea of sporadically twitching legs. Nearby, trees shivered. Clouds condensed into hail. Honey bees lost their way, returned to the wrong hive, died from exhaustion after flying too far. Fighting through the expanding hurricane of these phenomena, an island lay in the now roiling seas of the Mediterranean. On the island was a goddess, body wracked with pain as immortal as she.

    She screamed again as another contraction seared her lower body, shooting lightning up her spine, tensing, cramping, seemingly tearing every muscle that once comprised her core.

    The pain was too great to understand, too horrible to remember.

    Rhea¡¯s next ragged scream shook the foundations of Tartarus. Amalthea, trembling in her attempt to resist the radiating waves of agony, gently coaxed a tiny form from the cavern of his mother¡¯s womb into the living air.

    It was a slow process, painfully slow. It took hours for the head to appear and hours after that for the face.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    After nearly fourteen hours of repeated martyrdom, Rhea took her first shaky breath without wanting to cry out in pain. Despite being a perfect immortal being, every divine centimeter of her body was sore and her soul was nearly depleted of will. However, at least the racking torture, the agony which had spilled out and disrupted nature itself, was gone. It had been transformed, pushed out of her flesh in the form of an infant god squirming like a maggot in Amalathea¡¯s arms.

    ¡°He¡¯s strong.¡± Amalathea either didn¡¯t know or didn¡¯t care how much Rhea hated that lump of hurt at this moment. No promise of future power could make up for what she had just gone through.

    She lay on her back gazing at the sky, ignoring everything. Her other childbirths had been bad, but this had been the worst. She could only hope that the child would indeed be everything Prometheus promised.

    Amalathea bounced the baby as he began to cry. After all that he had just put Rhea through, he had the nerve to cry.

    Rhea turned her face away from the sound.

    ¡°Mistress.¡± Amalathea prompted.

    Rhea pretended not to hear, not willing to go through the effort of anger. And she would be angry, if Amalathea proffered the child to be held.

    ¡°Mistress,¡± Amalathea prompted again. ¡°A name? You must give your child a name.¡±

    The sky. A roiling storm cloud. An eagle. The electric blue-white clap of lightning reaching gnarled fingers across the firmament to connect the world of gods to that of mortals.

    ¡°Zeus.¡± Rhea said.

 30 Months, 1 Day

    Rhea fidgeted with the swaddled bundle in her arms. For the immortal life of her, she could not remember what one was supposed to do with these things. Her motherly instinct was not helped by the fact that it was a rock.

    Of course, she doubted whether any mother who could watch dispassionately while her husband ate her children had instinct. Certainly none of the motherly variety.

    Ever since she had let her Styx cursed brother Prometheus chat with her almost a year-and-a-half ago, she had been nearly obsessed with the idea of being in charge. He had dangled a possibility in front of her, the possibility of power¡ªfresh meat before a ravenous beast¡ªthe possibility of dominion over even Cronus, and her world had rolled in on itself. Before Prometheus had put the idea in her head, she had been content. She was queen of the Titans, second in command only to Cronus. She had tried to go back to the way things were before; she had tried to be content; she had tried to not care that she was at the beck and call of Cronus with his overbearing manner and violent tendencies. But now that very ¡°second¡±, which before had made her smirk when the other gods bowed before her, stung hard at her liver: twisting, searing, and devouring. She should be second to no being, mortal or divine. She should be first.

    She shifted the bundle, it was uncomfortable. She did not have a great imagination: this was the best plan she had been able to come up with¡ªwrap a stone in a cloth and pass it off as her newest baby while the real thing was safely hidden away on¡­oh dear, where had she put him?

    Even with her limited imagination, she knew it was a weak plan. Fortunately, her cranium with its two lonely brain cells looked positively crowded next to the void that was Cronus¡¯ head. Not that that made him any less powerful.

    ¡°Rhea!¡± The prime fool himself had come.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Y-yes, my lord?¡± Rhea kept her composure, trying to make it seem like she wasn¡¯t harboring any seditious intents.

    She shifted her weight twice. She brushed her immaculate curls out of her face four times. She stuttered when she parted the curve of her red lips to speak. She felt her whole body¡ªevery gorgeous dip and line¡ªbegin to shake.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve had another son?¡± Cronus flexed his muscles and looked self-satisfied.

    ¡°We¡¯ve had a-another s-son, yes.¡± Rhea¡¯s breath was coming is little gasps now.

    ¡°Well, give him here.¡± Without waiting Cronus snatched the bundle out of her arms.

    What followed is better left un-described: how Cronus¡¯ jaw seemed to unhinge, how it swung wildly back and forth as it lowered, how his cheeks flapped as though in a gust of wind as they widened to either side until they were the grotesque maw of a fish, curved out beyond its bone structure, how the whole time his body quivered and his eyes rolled madly around, first to the sky, then the ground, then toward Rhea herself, but never saw anything, and how¡ªall the while¡ªa hideous laugh echoed up from the cavernous chest so that it seemed a madman far back in a gaping cave. Into this ghastly chaos the disguised bundle flew, ending the scene with the impression of a snake as the king of the gods swallowed the son of his intelligence.

    In a moment, all was as it had been¡ªexcept that Rhea no longer held the swaddled stone.

    Cronus was again the picture of royal power. Every black hair on his head was placed perfectly, like a well trained army on the field of his scalp. His bulging muscles, slid back and forth under shining skin¡ªup his arms, across his bare chest, and down to his waist where they were finally obscured by what seemed to be a common exomis held on by a simple belt, both of which, despite their plebeian nature looked to Rhea like the very robes of the universe.

    As for herself, Rhea felt that her cheeks must now contain the full color from, not just her face, but all her body. During the spectacle she had trembled in a way that she had not any of the five previous times. Even now, she felt that he must realize the difference; the stone had felt different in her arms, it couldn¡¯t but feel different in his stomach. Three¡­four¡­five breaths.

    Nothing.

    ¡°What a wonderful dance we do.¡± Cronus said with the silky smile of a predatory feline.

    ¡°What a powerful lead.¡± Rhea replied.

 36 Months

    ¡°If I look at you, I might do something I regret.¡± Rhea kept her face purposefully turned away from Prometheus.

    ¡°You¡¯re taking this too far, sister.¡±

    ¡°Oh, am I? and which one of us told me to defy the king of the gods? Which one of us made me put my neck on the line so some helpless worm could¡ªhow did you put it?¡ª ¡®overthrow Cronus and rule at my will.¡¯? You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve gone through for this. And for what? A tiny, worthless, lump of work. Have you any idea how much work that child takes?¡± that made Prometheus smile in spite of her anger. He did, in fact know how much work a child requires. ¡°I just can¡¯t do it anymore.¡± Rhea continued.

    ¡°You¡¯re committed now.¡± Prometheus did not feel sorry for the queen¡¯s predicament. She would get used to the task, as he had, and he was confident that she would grow to feel about her child as he had about his.

    Rhea snorted, ¡°Committed.¡± She scoffed, ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this, Prometheus: my life was perfect before you talked me into wanting more.¡±

    She turned away and walked to a window. They were in her private receiving room¡ªnot by her invitation, Prometheus had decided that it was high time he check up on her and so she had been unpleasantly surprised to find him waiting in her room on Olympus when she entered¡ªa massive colonnade with a large window that seemed custom made to awe her company with it¡¯s view. Even Prometheus felt its effect.

    ¡°You¡¯re a fool, Prometheus. I could turn you in for your sedition right now.¡±

    Prometheus deigned not to answer that one. Even Rhea wasn¡¯t so stupid as to think she could turn him in without implicating herself. He had spoken, she had acted, neither would receive a light punishment, but her fate would be pounds to his pebbles. She may even, perish the thought, get the white room.

    ¡°I take it my nephew is doing well, then?¡± He asked instead.

    ¡°Healthy.¡± Rhea spat. ¡°He¡¯s very healthy.¡±

    ¡°Where are you keeping him?¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Rhea¡¯s eyes immediately narrowed and she again shifted slightly away from Prometheus so that he couldn¡¯t read her face too clearly.

    ¡°As if I would tell you.¡± She sniffed. ¡°You won¡¯t get me that easily.¡±

    Prometheus sighed. In fairness to his godly mess of a sister, there would be no way for her to understand his motives seeing as he hadn¡¯t even told her of the existence of his child, to say nothing of the location.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already sucked me into this mess,¡± Rhea continued, ¡°and now you think to steal my Zeus for yourself so that you can usurp my place as the power ruling through him.¡±

    ¡°Zeus?¡± Prometheus was, perhaps not surprised at the name so much as at the fact that Rhea had the initiative to name him at all.

    ¡°Yes Zeus.¡± Rhea was silent for a moment before saying, in a deadly quiet voice, ¡°I will see this through, brother, but if it goes wrong, you will pay the price with me.¡±

    ¡°I never doubted that for a second.¡± Prometheus shrugged¡ªan odd gesture on a God.

    Rhea pursed her lips and gave him a thoughtful stare.

    ¡°What is your stake in this? I¡¯ve known you for seven thousand years, you wouldn¡¯t put yourself in this much danger without some compelling reason. In this case, it would have to be a very compelling reason given how long you¡¯ve focused on it.¡±

    ¡°I must protest.¡± Prometheus said with mock injury in his voice. ¡°I have no lack of focus.¡±

    ¡°Oh please,¡± Rhea replied. ¡°You have the attention span of an adolescent squirrel. The only knowledge more common than that is what to do with an ingrown toenail. So what is it that¡¯s kept you fixated for so long? What¡¯s your long game here?¡±

    Prometheus laughed. ¡°I have my reasons.¡±

    ¡°What reason?¡±

    ¡°The most compelling reason there is.¡± He paused to wink at her for antic effect. ¡°Boredom.¡± He said with an affected air. ¡°I¡¯ve been bored out of my immortal mind for the last five thousand years. This seemed like a good change of pace.¡±

    Rhea flitted her eyes from his head to his feet several times while her jaw seemed to work over what he had said.

    ¡°There¡¯s more to it than that.¡± She said.

    ¡°As if I would tell you.¡± Prometheus flashed her his biggest grin as he parroted her words back to her. ¡°You won¡¯t get me that easily.¡±

    Rhea looked ready to add a Prometheus shaped splotch to the stunning view out her window.

    ¡°If you¡ª¡±

    ¡°mess this up for you then we¡¯re going down together,¡± Prometheus cut her off. ¡°Yes. We already did this part.¡± He paused to look serious again. ¡°Look, Rhea, I can promise you that I have no interest in ruling. My interest extends only insofar as I do not want Cronus to be in charge anymore. He¡¯s cruel and he¡¯s unpredictable. You have my word: you don¡¯t have to worry on my account.¡±

    ¡°And what good is your word?¡± Rhea laughed bitterly. ¡°What good is any of our words?¡±

    Prometheus grimaced at the implication of the sentiment.

    ¡°This time,¡± He said seriously, ¡°my word is good.¡± Then he flashed his trickster smile, unable to resist adding, ¡°You have my word.¡±

 68 Months

    ¡°Father, why is the sky blue and the grass green and the rocks gray and white and brown and sometimes red?¡±

    Prometheus considered telling the five-year-old the truth, how when the universe came into being the earth-mother, Gaea, had seen the sky-father in his starry fineness and had adorned herself with all colors of rocks and plants to attract his attention; and how, on the day that he saw her he cast off his starry cloak to reveal a brilliant blue tunic, so bright that it shone its light on her, allowing him to better see her beauty.

    However, Prometheus was by no means certain that he wanted the boy to be thinking of such things as attraction yet. Besides, without having ever seen a female of his own species, he didn¡¯t know whether the boy would understand some of the elements that particular truth.

    ¡°Well, the color of the sky,¡± Prometheus lied, ¡°is a function of light. When light hits the¡­um¡­stratosphere there is a layer of¡­ozone which scatters the¡­shorter wavelengths of light¡­and only allows blue light to come through.¡± It was an unwieldy explanation, and so ludicrously full of contradictions that even a child must surely see the illogic. But after looking very serious for a few moments, the boy nodded his head in a big way and said, ¡°Oh!¡± as though he just gained great understanding after a mental pilgrimage to the heavens.

    ¡°And what about the grass and the rocks?¡± He asked. ¡°Are those allzone, too?¡±

    Prometheus thought for a moment before saying, ¡°The grass is green because it was yellow but it soaks up all the blue light from the sky and turns green.¡±

    The boys¡¯ eyes opened as wide as his young face would allow, ¡°Is that why grass is yellow when it¡¯s in the dark? Like when it was under the rock that fell on the grass next to the pond by the tree in the clearing over the hill?¡±

    Prometheus thought about this for a moment, struggling to parse the onslaught of prepositions but pleased to have his lies verified by observable truth. ¡°Yes.¡± He tousled the boy¡¯s hair. Despite the fact that the whole explanation was obvious foolishness, Epimethius showed enormous intellect and wit in his exploration of the natural world which made Prometheus proud.

    ¡°The rocks,¡± he continued, ¡°are gray and white because by the time the plants were all done growing there was no more color left for them.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The boy considered this with a quizzical expression before saying, ¡°but what about the rocks that are red?¡±

    Prometheus chuckled, he was nearly caught there. Nearly. ¡°Have you ever seen very many red plants?¡±

    Epimethius understood his meaning right away and nodded his head very slowly with his lips pursed as though he were one of the wise of the world in the act of considering a deep philosophy. Of course, upon consideration, Prometheus was almost certain that Epimethius was one of the wise of the world. Already the young boy showed not only more wisdom of thought than the Titans, but also more compassion than the mother Gaea herself. The boy was no longer an experiment; Prometheus was confident in naming him a success.

    ¡°Father,¡± Epimethius was again looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. ¡°When will I get to meet other boys like me?¡±

    Prometheus pursed his lips as he felt the familiar jolt of discomfort surge through his immortal frame. ¡°Soon.¡± He said, averting his eyes so the boy wouldn¡¯t see the uncertainty there.

    He had toyed with the idea of creating a companion for the boy. He knew, after all, that such would be necessary if Epimethius was ever to be the progenitor of his race¡­but he was afraid.

    ¡°What of your studies? Do you learn well from Amalthea?¡± Prometheus attempted an attitude of of smooth indifference so that the boy wouldn¡¯t realize how desperately he was trying to change the subject.

    The boy scuffed his foot on the ground. ¡°I can write my name.¡± He said it with a reticent air of finality.

    ¡°I see.¡± Prometheus hid a smile. ¡°Would you show me?¡±

    For the next hour the little boy, made from mud, showed the immortal god born from the very joining of Earth and Sky all his meager educational accomplishments. As he did, Prometheus felt a powerful stirring within himself.

    ¡°I have not, since I was born¡ª¡± Prometheus broke off, unwilling to express the sentiment which he felt.

    ¡°Father?¡± The boy thankfully didn¡¯t seem concerned with the half statement, returning instead to his favorite pastime of question asking.

    ¡°Yes, my son?¡±

    ¡°Do you have any brothers or sisters?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my son.¡±

    ¡°Where are they?¡±

    ¡°They live in a mountain, a very tall mountain.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you live there?¡±

    ¡°Because I live here.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± The boy paused, considering, Prometheus supposed, what the logical followup question would be. ¡°Will I get to meet them?¡±

    Prometheus frowned. ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Not now.¡± He knew he couldn¡¯t be evasive on the matter forever. It was a sorry life for a young child to live alone.

    ¡°Do you not want me to meet them?¡±

    ¡°No, my child, quite the opposite, in fact.¡± It was the best kind of lie, because it relied on personal interpretation. Epimethius would think he meant ¡®I do want you to meet them.¡¯ when what he really meant was ¡®I don¡¯t want them to meet you.¡¯ It passed without impression.

    ¡°Okay.¡± The innocent trust on his son¡¯s face wrenched his heart strings.

    Prometheus choked back a sob and turned away.

 84 Months

    It¡¯s a little known fact that every child eventually arrives at a crossroads. It is a crossroad of will and wonder. It is, the time when one child says, ¡°Math is not for me,¡± or ¡°If I must learn to like science, then I had best study harder.¡± In short, it is the moment, when a child decides on their relationship to the soul-voice within. Epimethius felt himself quickly coming to such a point. For weeks, now, Prometheus had been attempting to school his charge on the intricacies of philosophy. The boy¡¯s interest, he was growing increasingly certain, lay elsewhere.

    ¡°What is the essence of soul?¡± Prometheus asked the question in an almost rhetorical way, as he strode forward and back before his lone student.

    ¡°Soul¡­doesn¡¯t have essence.¡± Epimethius had lately taken to guessing that everything was a trick question.

    ¡°Very good. Why does soul not have an essence?¡±

    That was new. Epimethius found himself stumbling over the unexpected success of his stratagem. After two weeks of guessing, he had finally guessed correctly. It was enough, almost, to make him consider puzzling out the answer with logic. But that was absurd. What power of logic could a seven year old boy posses? Still¡­he did have a start. He knew (now and quite accidentally) that soul did not have an essence, and yet knew equally well that he himself did have an animating force. Perhaps, then, it was all a question of semantic definition? It was all about what his father was calling ¡°soul¡±¡ªhitherto understood to be the animating power itself¡­but, no, once thought of that way Epimethius knew that there was more to it. The idea of ¡°soul¡± included with it a sense of individuality, a uniqueness, personality, even. If that was the case, then the animating power would be only the seed of the soul. The actual sole would come thereafter, built layer upon layer as one experienced this input and chose that action. The soul, then would not be innate, and therefore would not have an ¡°essence¡± but rather would be a sedimentary compilation of a person¡¯s life.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Epimethius blinked several times in quick succession. Even trying to trace the line of reasoning back to where it had began seemed like an exhausting task to his seven-year-old mind. Still¡­

    ¡°Soul does not have an essence,¡± he said, trying to remember his thoughts, ¡°rather it has a seed. The animating power which allows me to live is the seed which makes the soul possible, the actual soul is¡­accumulated¡± he stumbled over the difficult word ¡°over the course of experience and choice throughout the duration of one¡¯s life.¡± Even as he said it the sentence sounded stuffy and obtuse and he was once again reminded why he hated these exercises so much. Give him a grape seed and a foot of ground any day. Let him experience the slow, inevitable march of life and the gritty simplicity of nature rather than this whirlwind of mind and theory. However, even as the thought flitted through his mind, he saw the look of absolute pride on Prometheus¡¯ face and he knew that he would sit through a thousand such lessons without grumbling if he could, once every fortnight, see his father look like that.

 172 Months

    ¡°Brother!¡±

    Prometheus froze, under normal circumstances there was no sound less welcome to him than Cronus sultry boom. Here, however, was the last place in all the universe he wanted to hear it.

    ¡°Cronus!¡± He tried to exude sycophantic pleasure at seeing the god-tyrant. ¡°Um, what brings you down to this backwoods bilgeswamp of a vineyard?¡±

    Somewhere, deep within Prometheus¡¯ panicking inner child¡ªwhich at this moment was curled up in the corner of the dark box of his soul screaming¡ªthere was a tiny sliver of hope that the overbearing king of heaven would take his description of this actually perfectly respectable plot of land to heart and would leave, thinking it beneath his dignity to stay in a place with such poor reviews from the local tourists. Unfortunately, scouting a location for his new summer home did not seem to be Cronus¡¯ primary objective. He didn¡¯t move a muscle, not even to flex for no reason. That wasn¡¯t a good sign.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you, Prometheus.¡± Cronus used his quiet voice, the one that seemed to say, ¡®oh, hello. You¡¯re breathing my air and I don¡¯t like it. But don¡¯t worry, everything will be just fine because I have come up with a compelling solution to this most vexing problem: your lungs will look just wonderful mounted above my fireplace.¡¯

    Prometheus hated when he used that voice.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Prometheus chuckled nervously. ¡°Why ever would you want to do that? A silly thing to do really. Yes, I just come here to¡­um¡­make wine and¡­um¡­grow potato blossoms.¡±

    Cronus lifted his unamused eyebrows and gave Prometheus a deliberate yawn.

    ¡°That is,¡± Prometheus hurried to assure him of his innocence of any wrong doing of any sort¡ªespecially, but not limited to, planting treason, plotting to overthrow the very god who now claimed to have ¡®been watching¡¯ him¡ªand certainly not raising a secret race of being who could very well be seen as a mockery of the gods. No, certainly not that. ¡°there¡¯s nothing interesting to see. Just the same old¡­grapes.¡±

    ¡°No god grows grapes. There are undercreatures for that.¡±

    Prometheus found it a depressing testament to Cronus¡¯ brute nature that he pegged a lie for a fully absurd reason. Prometheus did grow grapes, frequently, in fact; it was a wonderfully relaxing pastime. He had never felt any need for ¡°undercreatures¡± as Cronus glibly called them. But no matter how he would grow grapes at any other time, it was true that he was not here in this spot for horticulture; he was here to see his son. And his son was here to not be seen by Cronus.

    ¡°Oh, Prometheus. You¡¯ve been acting strange for almost thirteen years now. Did you really think I wouldn¡¯t notice?¡±

    Prometheus wanted to sarcast that if he had been acting so strange for thirteen years, why hadn¡¯t Cronus confronted him about it twelve years ago? Fortunately, better sense saved him from his tongue. instead, he gave a neutral, ¡°How so?¡± and reminded himself, don¡¯t give anything away until you have more information.

    Cronus gave him a superior stare. ¡°You spend almost all of your time in this backwoods bilgeswamp of what you claim is a vineyard and yet you never seem to have wine worth a satyr¡¯s left hoof.¡±

    Prometheus swallowed. ¡°Doing and doing well are two very different things.¡± He said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, brother. We all remember that wine stint you had thirty-five hundred years ago. There wasn¡¯t a deity that could fly straight for nearly two centuries at the end there. Your wine is the stuff of drunken stories, even among those teetotalling dryads.¡± Cronus¡¯ expression took on the whist of a past well lived. ¡°You remember that Niad in Delphi that got so drunk her descendants still have a hangover? Good times.¡± Cronus thought about it for a moment more before his face again hardened into its customary angry mask. ¡°So don¡¯t give me lies about not succeeding. You haven¡¯t been growing fruit or making wine here. Not even you could hide it that well.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    It was a rare near-compliment from Cronus and an even more rare near-deduction. Still, it made Prometheus¡¯ stomach turn. Even while Cronus was reminiscing about ¡°good times¡± and almost complimenting him on this or the other thing, Prometheus was acutely aware of the power disparity between them and even more so of the erratic an dangerous nature of his ruling brother. No interaction with Cronus ended well. This one had the potential to be disastrous.

    Prometheus attempted to change track. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing here, then?¡± He asked.

    Cronus smiled a predatory smile. ¡°You¡¯re raising something better than wine.¡± He said. ¡°And insolent subordinate that you are, you weren¡¯t even planning on sharing..¡±

    Prometheus felt his heart constrict. ¡°You¡­¡± He started but couldn¡¯t continue through his fears.

    ¡°I found out about your little pet?¡± Cronus chucked. ¡°Yes. Remarkable idea, I must say. I should know, my children were quite a treat, but immortality and all causes terrible indigestion. You¡¯ve solved that, though, haven¡¯t you?¡± He sighed then. ¡°I can¡¯t really say I blame you for keeping it secret, thirteen years to grow one morsel is quite the investment, even for the everlived. It''s a pity that¡ª¡±

    Prometheus had listened to all this with rising bile and sinking heart and heard no more as he damned all the consequences and took off toward his hovel where Epimethius had last been. He nearly tore the door from it¡¯s hinges as he burst into the home, afraid that he would find no more than a pile of bones scattered as remnants from Cronus¡¯ feast. Instead, he found a clean room with Epimethius sitting quietly in the corner where he had been reading ¡°The Mysteries of a Dialectic Life,¡± by Androgenese. He looked peeved to have been interrupted so rudely, but for once Prometheus didn¡¯t care about the teen¡¯s attitude as his relief overwhelmed him and he sank to the floor near tears. He only had the chance to take two unsteady breaths before he heard Cronus chuckle behind him.

    ¡°Good show.¡± Cronus said. ¡°You are very invested in this project of yours.¡±

    Prometheus said nothing as he mentally glared at Cronus while carefully keeping his face absolutely neutral.

    Cronus laughed outright. ¡°You worry too much, brother. I would never eat such a valuable investment of time and power before you had a chance to work out the reproduction cycle. I¡¯m smart enough to know that we¡¯ll want more than one meal from a delicacy such as this.¡±

    Prometheus felt his relief at finding his son still alive warring with his revulsion at Cronus¡¯ deucentric assumption that Epimethius was some sort of cattle to be raised and and eaten by the Titans. He closed his eyes for four seconds, then inhaled deeply and stood to face Cronus again.

    ¡°You should be quick about it though.¡± Cronus was still talking, ¡°I expect fresh meat at the next feast of the gods.¡±

    Prometheus nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak, desperately trying to contain his rage. Epimethius was, after all, still mortal and if Cronus found out what was really going on, he would undoubtedly eat the boy immediately, without a second thought.

    ¡°Yes, Lord Cronus.¡± Prometheus hated himself while he said the words, but he continued to maintain a perfectly neutral expression until Cronus, with a final predatory grin and a hucking sound deep in his throat, disappeared in a vortex of impenetrable dark. Only once he was certain the god king was gone, did Prometheus allow his eyes to narrow, his face to grow red, and his fist to go halfway into the outer wall of his house. He muttered somewhere between three and forty-seven choice expletives in the general direction of Cronus before he heard footsteps behind him and¡ªfearing that Cronus had come back¡ªwhirled to face Epimethius. Suddenly, Prometheus was perfectly aware of three things: first, though they had stepped back out the doorway, the teenage Epimethius had been within easy earshot of everything that Cronus and the placating Prometheus had said. Second, there was a fist shaped indent in the wall where Prometheus¡¯ hand had been just moments before. And third, in an entirely unrelated vain to the first two things, Epimethius was growing up so fast it made Prometheus want to cry for something different altogether.

    ¡°Who was that?¡± Epimethius in his classic (or what Prometheus guessed would someday come to be seen as classic) teenage way seemed significantly less concerned than he should be after hearing that the king of the gods intended to eat him. Or, for that matter, at finding his father punching a wall.

    ¡°That,¡± Prometheus waved his hand at the defiled ground where Cronus had stood. ¡°Was your uncle Cronus.¡±

    Epimethius raised both eyebrows. ¡°That was the king of the gods?¡± He scrunched up his face, ¡°He was a lot smaller than I expected. So what was all that?¡± He waved a hand in the air as if to indicate the whole conversation that came before.

    ¡°All that,¡± Prometheus closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. ¡°was our timeline moving up, fast.¡±

 174 Months

    It had been no easy task, discovering the whereabouts of the godly teen. In the last twelve years¡ªwhile not engaged in his demanding duties of raising Epimethius¡ªPrometheus had searched from the farthest shore of the western coast to the insanity that was the east and even farther through a land apart which was filled waving fields of grain. For the last four months, ever since Cronus had found Epimethius, Prometheus had redoubled and tripled his efforts. He had literally searched the farthest corners of the earth¡ªa feat in itself, even for the god of sticking his nose where it didn¡¯t belong (as Prometheus was sometimes called by his siblings) to find corners on the sphere that was the planet. He looked so far south that it got cold and so far north that the only place to go was south again. He found a large island where all of the creatures to which he had given the surprising or the dangerous gifts had gone. He even checked the trenches in the ocean. The heavenly child had been in none of these places. Finally, while going fishing off the coast of Greece, he had heard it. The ocean was especially loud there but a wave had gotten itself stuck on a rock. For just a moment, it couldn¡¯t crash like it was supposed to; that¡¯s when Prometheus had heard the cracking voice of a teenage god. He had been singing, of all things, to himself. At first, Prometheus had been unsure what he had heard. Zeus was not the first god to ever go through puberty, there were a number of minor gods who had done that, but he was the first god to sing to himself during puberty and in all of eternity-before, it was the first voice crack Prometheus had ever heard, personally or by hearsay. Then the wave had got itself unstuck and hurried on to finish its task, and Prometheus had been left functionally deaf once again. When it finally dawned on him¡ªlater that evening after he had returned to the home he shared with his own teenage son¡ªexactly what he might have heard, he was unsure whether to be impressed with Rhea¡¯s cleverness or disappointed with her stupidity. He had searched all over the world and had not even stopped to consider that the child could be so close to Olympus as the island of Crete. It was too close, too prone to discovery. But then, Prometheus had searched for twelve years and hadn¡¯t found him, so perhaps it was a brilliant ploy. He wasn¡¯t sure. Now that he thought about it, however, the sea around Crete had always been especially loud¡ªa phenomena for which there wasn¡¯t really a good explanation. He supposed that had been Rhea¡¯s doing, a special measure to hide the child from the outside world. Godly lungs were, after all, capable of producing a staggering level of sound.

    Whatever the reasons for Zeus¡¯ presence on Crete, Prometheus was not going to pass up the opportunity. To this end he was now dressed as a old, bent stranger in a dark cloak. He hobbled across the island, following trails that may have been game trails and may have been god trails. He was more certain than ever that Zeus was here. As soon as his feet touched the ground of the island, he had felt a presence¡ªa godly aura more powerful than anything he had experienced before.

    He had, of course, ensured that Rhea was engaged on Olympus before coming. He didn¡¯t know whether she would object to his being here, but he felt just a little like he was encroaching on her parenting space, and preferred to do so with anonymity.

    After nearly five hours of picking game trail after game trail, he finally followed one higher and higher into the Cretan mountains, fingering the vile in his pocket all the way. Finally, the path ended at a cave. He knew he had chosen well when he heard a teenage groan coming from the recess in the mountainside.

    Putting on his best old man appearance, Prometheus called out, ¡°Eh, what¡¯s that? What¡¯s that?¡±

    In a flash, the teenage god was before him, standing in the mouth of the cave.

    ¡°Well,¡± Prometheus continued in his contralto voice to give the impression of age. ¡°Speak up m¡¯boy. Some of us can¡¯t hear as well as we used to.¡±

    ¡°Oh, gods! I am so glad you¡¯re here! I swear, this rock of an island is so boring!¡±

    Prometheus thought the boy¡¯s enthusiasm for an old man was a good sign.

    ¡°Ey. And what are you doin¡¯ on this rock?¡±

    The teenager gave a shrug that conveyed all the all-I-know-is-I-don¡¯t-deserve-this in the world, but said, ¡°Come on.¡± and ushered Prometheus into his cave.

    For the next hour, Prometheus got to know this boy. He seemed amiable but unpredictable¡ªhardly a surprising circumstance to Prometheus as his own teenage son was as unpredictable as the flight patterns of a mayfly at mating season, even to Prometheus who had raised him from infancy. He discovered very little about the Zeus¡¯ daily life on the Island, as the boy seemed curiously reticent to talk about that, but generally found the interaction to be intriguing and the boy god to be pleasant and congenial, if odd.

    Finally, Prometheus steered the conversation into his purpose in coming. ¡°You know,¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve met your father.¡±

    ¡°My father?¡± the boy seemed genuinely surprised.

    ¡°Yep, big ugly brute, that one is.¡±

    ¡°My father?¡± The boy repeated the words as if they were an entirely unfamiliar concept. Then, ¡°I have a father?¡± he said.

    So, it was an entirely unfamiliar concept. Now it was Prometheus¡¯ turn to be surprised. It was almost enough to make him break character. That could have been disastrous. He was, after all, in the depths of treason here.

    ¡°Of course y¡¯have a father.¡± He said. ¡°What did ya think? That ya sprang from a grape vine as a tiny babe?¡±

    ¡°I guess¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± The teen seemed unsure how he was expected to react. ¡°I just never thought about it before.¡±

    ¡°Well, now you have.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°A father?¡±

    ¡°Thought about it. But yes, that too. You¡¯ve got a father and I¡¯ve seen him and that should be enough to curdle any man¡¯s milk twice over.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Zeus asked.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s a mean brute of a god.¡± the old man that was Prometheus snapped.

    The revelation that a strange old visitor thought his father was mean didn¡¯t seem to surprise Zeus as much as the previous revelation that he had a father at all did. Still, it peaked his interest.

    ¡°Is he mean to everyone, or just to you?¡±

    Prometheus wheezed a laughed. ¡°Everyone, lad. In fact, I should rather say, he¡¯s never been kind to anyone.¡±

    He was surprised that Rhea hadn¡¯t already started poisoning Zeus¡¯ mind against Cronus. If he was going to overthrow the king of heaven one day, after all, then he should be taught young to have the will to do it. What, he wondered, had that woman been doing with the boy all this time? It left him with a world of extra work this visit, but he was here now and could hopefully rectify the oversight in quick order.

    ¡°Have you known my father long?¡±

    Prometheus knew that was a loaded question depending on the outcome of all this. If he answered yes, then any investigation that may result from a failed coup, would be narrowed down to just a handful of gods. For Epimethius¡¯ sake, Prometheus could not afford to take that risk. However, if he answered ¡°no¡±, then he would destroy any credibility needed to convince young Zeus of the need to stop his father.

    ¡°I¡± Prometheus spoke slowly so as to let his thoughts formulate, ¡°have known of him for many thousand years.¡± He said. ¡°I doubt he even knows I exist.¡±

    Though this was a flat out lie for Prometheus, it was true for several individuals he could name¡ªso not wholly unbelievable.

    ¡°I have watched him,¡± Prometheus continued, ¡°murder the innocent and reward the corrupt. He has never shown kindness and hungers only for authority over others.¡±

    ¡°What position is he in, that he can do so much wrong?¡±

    ¡°He is the king of the gods.¡±

    Zeus cocked his head to one side. ¡°The gods have a king, then?¡±

    ¡°Hades, what has your mother been teaching you on this rock for the last decade? Yes the gods have a king and he¡¯s a cursed tyrant and he¡¯s your father.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make me¡­¡± Zeus didn¡¯t seem to mind Prometheus¡¯ tirade.

    ¡°In a mortal hierarchy,¡± Prometheus snorted, ¡°That would make you a prince. In an immortal court with a selfish bastard like Cronus as king. That just makes you oppressed like the rest of us.¡±

    Zeus seemed to mull this over for a time before he said, ¡°Will he always be king of the gods?¡±

    ¡°Not if we can help it.¡± Prometheus gave the boy a conspiratorial wink. ¡°If he¡¯s ever going to be overthrown, then you would have to be the one to do it. No one else, god or mortal, would ever be strong enough.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you.¡±

    ¡°But, I¡¯m just a kid on a rock.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Prometheus smiled at the description, ¡°but you¡¯re also a god, the son of the strongest Titan and Titaness in the universe, and the sole heir to the sky prophecy.¡±

    ¡°The sky prophecy?¡± Zeus gave Prometheus a quizzical look.

    ¡°Yes the sky prophecy.¡± Prometheus reminded himself to give Rhea a good talking to about the boy¡¯s lack of education. ¡°When Cronus overthrew the skyfather, Uranius. Uranus prophesied that a child of Cronus would do the same to him. Before you, there were many children born to Cronus, but he swallowed them all at birth so that they couldn¡¯t fulfill the prophecy. You are its sole heir.¡±

    ¡°What good will that do me?¡± Finally, Zeus began to manifest some emotion at what Prometheus was saying. He shook, though with fear or with anger, Prometheus could not tell and his voice had started to crack.

    ¡°Prophecies are powerful things. Once made, if it¡¯s a true prophecy, it can reshape the very fabric of reality to come to full realization.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    Prometheus wondered if Zeus did see.

    ¡°This is all a lot to take in.¡± The teen looked distraught. ¡°I have discovered my siblings and lost them all in the same conversation.¡±

    Prometheus smiled, they had finally come around to his original reason in coming here, ¡°Not lost, m¡¯boy. Just separated for a bit. You can¡¯t kill a god that easily, not even an infant one. Your siblings have all been trapped in Cronus¡¯ stomach, unable to expand, unable to act, possibly even, for the time, at least, left without a will, their own having been absorbed into your father¡¯s soul. But, they¡¯re all still there, and they¡¯re all still very much alive.¡± Prometheus didn¡¯t actually know whether this was all true. But he had to make theories about something and this had seemed a credible one. He felt he owed it to Zeus and to the universe to try. Additionally, he knew that just replacing the King of the gods would not be enough to ensure Epimethius¡¯ safety. He needed a whole new generation of gods to help Zeus rule if they were to achieve the stability conducive to his goals.

    ¡°I have here,¡± he said producing a vile from a pocket in his sleeve, ¡°a tincture distilled from the spores of a mushroom that grows in the foothills of the eastern mountains. It¡¯s an old family recipe¡ª¡± another lie. The recipe was only as old as Prometheus¡¯ indigestion. He had spent weeks trying different combinations of deadly herb, root, and mushroom testing each one on himself . This most recent concoction had left him vomiting things he hadn¡¯t even eaten for nearly a week. When he had recovered, he knew he had succeeded in his goal. ¡°¡ªfrom which even a drop will melt the stoutest stomach. With this, you may yet recover your siblings.¡±

    Zeus took the vial almost reverently.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    It was a question that Prometheus had been expecting.

    ¡°A concerned party.¡± Prometheus replied.

    ¡°No, I mean who are you? It doesn¡¯t seem like your coming here was an accident.¡±

    ¡°Do you believe in accidents?¡± Prometheus asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°This world was built on belief. It only exists inasmuch as we experience it, we only experience what we believe. Who do you believe I am?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re relief on a summer¡¯s day.¡±

    ¡°Then, no, it was no accident. Every day seeks interruption, for beings like us, every interruption is a relief.¡±

    ¡°You got that right.¡± Zeus said. ¡°I sometimes wonder what I did wrong.¡±

    ¡°You did nothing, lad, it was your father¡¯s fault that this happened to you. But you won¡¯t always be here, one day you will rise up to overthrow your father, and then you will rule the heavens and the earth and will travel freely and converse openly.¡± Prometheus prodded the boy with his walking stick. ¡°I have looked in the stars and seen it.¡± That wasn¡¯t true in the least bit. The last time Prometheus had looked in the stars, the only thing he¡¯d seen was the underside of indigestion and something called twerking.

    The boy god seemed to be lost in thought.

    ¡°Well.¡± Prometheus picked himself up off the ground. ¡°Can¡¯t sit around here gabbin¡¯ all day. I should really be getting my old bones off to an early grave.¡± He actually could have sat there gabbing all day, except that he was worried he¡¯d be caught by Rhea. He really should be getting back to check on Epimethius anyway. The boy was self sufficient, but for being self sufficient, he certainly did get in a lot of trouble. He didn¡¯t fancy leaving the teen for too long with those scandalous nymphs traipsing about the spring woods in search of seductive prey.

    ¡°Wait.¡± The boy god sounded desperate. ¡°Stay a little longer. I can show you my collection of¡ª¡±

    ¡°I wish I could,¡± Prometheus gave the boy what he hoped was an understanding shrug. ¡°But, really, I must be going.¡±

    ¡°But I could¡ª¡± Zeus started to say, but Prometheus was already gone.

 183 Months

    ¡°Come on, dad. You can¡¯t expect me to believe a story like that.¡±

    ¡°I can and do. Look, Epimethius, the time will come when there will be more people, great cities of people, so many people that you could have lunch with a different one every day and never meet them all. But you must be pait¡ª¡±

    Prometheus was cut off by the musical sound of laughter from outside. It wasn¡¯t the girlish giggles of nymphs, it was water falling over rocks and chimes in the wind.

    ¡°Stay here.¡± Prometheus told his son, though he knew he would be lucky if the teenager waited ten minutes before following him out to the field. He hadn¡¯t been able to bring himself to tell the boy of Cronus¡¯¡­interest in him. But, he had to try to keep him safe. Which, in this case room the form of adding an, ¡°I mean it.¡± to his injunction, then finishing with, ¡°I¡¯ll just be a minute.¡±

    He stepped outside over the somewhat sullen protests of his son to find three beautiful girls. He knew who they were, though he almost wished he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°What business do the fates have with me?¡± He asked, barest hint of a tremble in his voice.

    ¡°We have come to congratulate you.¡± Said the taller one on the right. ¡°You have done a great thing in the universe. You have brought justice to the gods.¡±

    Prometheus¡¯ eyebrows creased.

    ¡°Cronus will pay an eternity of pain for his unjust rule.¡± said the slender one on the left.

    Prometheus felt his mouth go dry. He hardly dared to feel the unavoidable hope that blossoming in his chest. ¡°You mean,¡± he spoke hoarsely, ¡°that Cronus has been¡­¡±

    ¡°Overthrown by your prodigy, your Zeus, your brainchild, your plan.¡± The sister on the right, by far the most unsettling of the three smiled as though she had watched the whole thing unfold¡ªwhich, of course, she had.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The three sisters began at the beginning and told the story, how Rhea had grown impatient and finally taken Zeus off of the island of create somewhat immaturely, for one so young could hardly have hoped to defeat a Titan like Cronus, and presented him to the God King as a cup bearer. Cronus, with no reason to suspect his wife and taken by the beauty of the serving boy, had suspected nothing, readily drinking the wine that his new ¡°cup-bearer¡± had brought. As when he had swallowed the stone, the erstwhile god-king¡¯s voracious eating habits had once again driven him to folly. Downing the wine in a single gulp, he hadn¡¯t realized until too late the presence of the terrible concoction that Prometheus himself had brewed. Five children and an infant sized stone later, Cronus¡¯ abdominal walls were still spasming uncontrollably when the siblings effected their escape.

    ¡°It was quite the gruesome sight.¡± The slender fate said.

    ¡°You were there?¡± Prometheus asked. ¡°Of course not.¡± The tall one snapped. ¡°But we see everything.¡±

    Of course, it had been a stupid question.

    ¡°So what now?¡± He asked instead. Is Cronus defeated? Has Zeus taken the throne?¡±

    ¡°There is yet a bloody conflict that will rend the earth in two. But you, oh Prometheus, you who set in motion that which is to be, you will be the seed that grows a forest. The outcome of the coming conflict will be yours to decide, so choose well: joy and torment, or torment and joy.¡±

    Neither of those options sounded appealing.

    ¡°We have spoken.¡±

    Prometheus tried to stop them, tried to ask more questions, but the three maidens gave their ethereal laugh with a twirl and vanished before he could.

    Once he was sure they were completely gone, Prometheus gave a single long low whistle.

    ¡°Well that was¡­ominous.¡±

    Prometheus jumped. Even though he had expected Epimethius to disregard his order, he still wasn¡¯t prepared for the boy¡­er¡­man to be so close behind him.

    ¡°Epimethius!¡± Prometheus put on his shrillest, most outraged voice in a vain attempt to cover his startlement. ¡°I thought I told you to stay inside.¡±

    ¡°Pigs, father, the fates knew I was in there, so it¡¯s not like it would have made a difference.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡± Prometheus said petulantly. ¡°Only one of them knew you were in there.¡±

    While technically true, that was a thin argument. It was because of the very unity of nature that the disconcerting young women were so powerful.

    ¡°So, a war then?¡± Epimethius raised an eyebrow. ¡°That can¡¯t be good.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± Prometheus agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s also not unexpected.¡±

    Then, with a shake of his head, he left to wonder why an entire pantheon of nearly omnipotent immortal beings had to be cursed with the unfortunate combination of idiocy and immaturity.

 184 Months

    ¡°Company A, with me!¡±

    A large set of Cyclopes rushed passed Prometheus led by the shining skinned charisma of Poseidon who, ever since escaping his fleshy prison, had been a powerful general in Zeus¡¯ army.

    None of the would be combatants seemed to see Prometheus, their attention almost entirely fixated on the army of minor river gods and wood spirits interspersed here and there by a Titan of supreme strength; all of which impressive force was arrayed in a sprawling moon at the other end of the valley.

    Prometheus had to wonder once again what any of them were doing here. Was he the only one who realized that a war between immortals could not accomplish anything beyond lowering the property values of an entire planet? Perhaps not. Perhaps there was more wisdom in this war than he knew. Either way, it was inevitable and he must participate. He was, ready to enlist. Aside from the ominous warnings of the fates, he knew that when Zeus won, he would need compelling evidence that he was on the younger god¡¯s side. He was a Titan, after all: one of the old guard. His demographics were against him, so, he had to do something to make a public statement about how he was on Zeus¡¯ side.

    ¡°Nephew!¡± Prometheus tried to ignore the thousand spears that were automatically pointed at him by the Hecatonkaries. ¡°Welcome to the world of the exuberant!¡±

    World of the exuberant? It What did that even mean? It was cursed hard to focus with that seething wall of spears and hands and eyes all giving him special attention.

    Zeus looked up from the large table spread with a war map to see Prometheus and held up a hand, indicating for the Hecatonkaries to stand down.

    ¡°What is your name and why are your here?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Zeus seemed distrustful of Prometheus¡ªan understandable reaction for the general in a war, considering Prometheus had never been formally introduced with his own face¡ªbut Zeus wasn¡¯t about to throw away a potential ally, either. His position was still too tenuous for that.

    ¡°I am Prometheus. Son of Uranus. Malcontent of Cronus. Uncle and supporter of the great Zeus.¡±

    Zeus¡¯ eyebrows had raised in surprise when Prometheus had spoken his own name.

    ¡°So you¡¯re Prometheus?¡±

    Now it was Prometheus¡¯ turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

    ¡°Are you familiar with my person, Lord?¡± He used the honorific intentionally, hoping that it helped him sound supportive without sounding either sycophantic or insincere.

    ¡°I know your name.¡± Zeus replied. ¡°My mother has told me a great deal about the role you played in saving me from my father. You are welcome here.¡±

    Prometheus almost laughed out loud when he realized the implications. Rhea had indeed been as good as her threat when it came to mutually ensured destruction. He had been concerned when, visiting the teenage Zeus on his island, he had found the young god¡¯s education lacking, but Rhea had clearly spared no effort in making sure that if anything did go wrong, then Prometheus would come to light as the other primary actor. Whatever her intentions had been, Prometheus was grateful for it now. His task of getting into the army would be made immeasurably easier by her paranoia.

    ¡°Thank you, Lord Zeus.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°How might I best serve in this war against your father?¡±

    The young god looked uncertain for a moment.

    ¡°Are you any good at strategy?¡± He finally said.

    ¡°I have been known variously as the god of wisdom and the god of mischief.¡± Prometheus smiled. ¡°You may take that how you will.¡±

    Zeus thought for a moment. Then, he too smiled.

    ¡°Come.¡± He said. ¡°You will be a chief general over my army.¡±

    Poor, trusting boy. Prometheus had no intention of betraying Zeus, but he couldn¡¯t help being critical of just how easily the boy god had trusted him based on no more than the word of his mother (hardly a trustworthy source herself) and his own willingness to help. This time, it would be to the boy¡¯s benefit. Next time, Prometheus could only hope Zeus¡¯ simple trust wouldn¡¯t get him hurt in the intrigue laden world of the gods.

 210 Months

    ¡°Hail, Zeus. New king of Olympus and all the earth!¡±

    The young god was sitting on the ornate, gold cast throne which had so lately belonged to Cronus. The massive marble room in which Prometheus now bowed on one knee reverberated with his strong voice.

    ¡°Ah, uncle. You have served well. Without you I would even now reside in the detestable bowels of my father. Name your dominion and I will grant it thee.¡±

    It had been a brief but bloody war, every wit matching the warning of the fates when they said it would, be a ¡°bloody conflict that will rend the earth in two. Prometheus had eventually commanded all of Zeus¡¯ armies. The precarious position of the new order of gods had quickly become apparent but after his first few successes, Prometheus had successfully utilized his thousands of years of trickery and planning to turn the tide of first battles, then the war.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°I want no dominion, Lord Zeus.¡±

    ¡°No dominion?¡± Zeus seemed displeased. Prometheus decided to take that as a good sign. The other Titans were eager to control everything themselves, Zeus was eager to share the authority over the earth. That was good.

    ¡°You could have dominion over the sea, to lift the tides at your will, summon mighty hurricanes, and command armies of monsters. You could take power over the land to the deepest depths, have possession over every precious gem and metal, push up great mountain ranges by the will of your word, and oversee the very pits of Tartarus and Fields of Elysium themselves. You could rule the seasons or the harvest, the fine wines or the feral beasts. Yet, you want no dominion?¡±

    ¡°There is no dominion I desire. Lord Zeus.¡±

    ¡°Then what about over those creatures of yours?¡±

    ¡°Over humans? You misunderstand me, Lord Zeus. I do not wish to rule over them, but toil with them.¡±

    Zeus raised one golden eyebrow at that, but said, ¡°Good, I am intrigued by your mortal creation and had wanted dominion over them myself.¡±

    Prometheus frowned deeply¡ªunsure what to think. Even Zeus, it seemed, would not understand.

 217 Months

    It had been too long. The creation of a new governing body of Gods was no small task and in between the renovations to Olympus, determining loyalties, reshaping the world, and that unnecessary but excessively emphasized rebranding of the younger gods as ¡°Olympians¡±, there had been very little to no leisure time for anyone involved. The result was a series of nearly seven months during which Prometheus had seen Epimethius even less that during the war.

    Fortunately, he had finally finished his latest task, assigning a different gift to each of the animals. Now, he didn¡¯t ask for permission; he was flying his chariot¡ªthe newest fad in celestial transport¡ªto Ithaca before he was even finished granting the last gift, an unfortunate rush for the doddering little bird who was supposed to have received great intelligence; the casting had gone awry and the dazzling intelligence that was to make the bird an apex peace keeping arbitrator of the harsh (and not just a little overbearing) predator-prey binary system, had instead become dundering indifference: a trait that would almost certainly doom it as a species to a peaceful life and an early death. No matter. Prometheus would correct that later¡ªgive it a reconciliatory island where it could live away from the dangers of the newly endowed world. Now, however, was not the time; he was eager to check in on Epimethius.

    Something Zeus had said early on regarding Epimethius had bothered Prometheus in an indefinable way. But aside from ¡°checking up on¡± he mostly found himself inadequately equipped to return to his godly life the way it had been before the war. There were actual demands on his time now. He had responsibilities outside of his little family of two. But his heart and soul were still with his son.

    He willed and whipped the ten marbled pegasai, pulling his chariot faster through the sky.

    Finally, after what must have been the longest ten-and-a-half minutes in the last seven thousand years, Prometheus saw it: a large wood hut marked by an ornate lentil over the doorway. While Prometheus had been involved in celestial espionage, deific war, and the glorified janitorial work of post-war clean up, Epimethius had spent years building, expanding, and refining their home. Though there was very little stone in its construction, the wood was exceptionally well crafted¡ªthe design a work of both genius and art. Prometheus found himself swelling with pride at the sight of it.

    ¡°Epimethius!¡± His voice boomed over the valley as he landed his pegasai in the meticulously cultivated field out in front of Epimethius¡¯ house.

    There was a moment of silence broken only by the snort of one of his panting pegasai.

    ¡°Epimethius!¡± Prometheus called again.

    A sound came from inside the house and then the door burst open to reveal the stocky but handsome man with a dark curly mop of hair and powerfully built arms that Epimethius had grown into. He was wearing a simple brown tunic that, much like the exomis that Cronus had used to wear, somehow still managed to look as regal despite its simple cut.

    ¡°Father?¡± Epimethius blinked as his eyes adjusted to Helios¡¯ bright presence in the sky.

    ¡°Ah! My boy!¡± Some meetings are too special to be recorded. This was one of those.

    <hr>

    ¡°I have been busy. Most recently, Zeus had me bestowing different gift upon every animal in the world. Though why he wanted me to spend time on such a project is beyond me.

    Epimethius looked at the ground to his left. They were strolling in Epimethius¡¯ vineyard and the cool air played through the still mostly green leaves.

    ¡°You mean that for the last seven months you¡¯ve been off giving gyros to pigeons?¡± His voice was half sarcastic, half jovial and¡­Prometheus wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was, but there was the barest hint of something hiding under his words¡ªsomething unsettling.

    ¡°No, not quite that.¡± Prometheus laughed. ¡°No, to pigeons, I gave pity.¡±

    ¡°They will have pity?¡±

    ¡°No, they will incite pity. Especially from your descendants. I dare say that, eventually, this gift will feed them, house them, and allow them to proliferate anywhere that you or your progeny go.¡±

    ¡°You mean that whenever I see a a pigeon I¡¯ll feel compelled to feed it instead of eating it?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± Prometheus smiled. ¡°Only, you probably won¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°I already don¡¯t know why.¡± Epimethius snorted softly. ¡°And you had to give a different such gift to each animal.¡±

    ¡°Yes. And, let me tell you, it was difficult coming up with a new thing every time. Many were near repeats of others and some were barely boons at all. Causing almost as much trouble as benefit.¡± He paused. ¡°Enough about that; I came here to see you. I have missed you for the last seven months¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been lonely here too.¡± Epimethius cut in.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Prometheus shifted uncomfortably as he felt the double accusation in those words. He still had not provided a mate for Epimethius. ¡°But,¡± he continued what he had been saying, ¡°I also came to finish my task. You are the last of the creatures on this earth to whom I have not granted a gift.¡±

    Epimethius smiled. ¡°Do I get to choose?¡±

    Prometheus held up his hand. ¡°It must be a characteristic that you and all your descendants will be able to share. It must be a benefit to you so that the inhabitants of this world may be the most precious over any other world: such were the restrictions placed on me by Zeus.¡±

    Epimethius looked thoughtful. Prometheus continued:

    ¡°I give to you, alone of all the animals, a choice.¡± Prometheus said the words, though they hurt. Even though Epimethius had been a man now for almost as long as he had been a child, Prometheus found it difficult¡ªvery difficult¡ªto trust his son¡¯s own judgment, no matter that time and time again Epimethius had proved himself to be wise (perhaps even wiser than Prometheus) and worthy of any and all trust bestowed. It was a combination of fierce protectiveness and a desire for everything to be the best for his son that drove Prometheus even now to choose on his son¡¯s behalf. But he knew that to do so would not only estrange them from each other, but that his own decisions would not necessarily be the better of the two. He had raised Epimethius too well for that.

    ¡°Such a choice should not be taken lightly.¡± Epimethius rubbed his chin and then was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, ¡°My choice, and I don¡¯t make this lightly, is to return to you what is rightfully yours. You plucked me from a tree¡±¡ªPrometheus winced inwardly as he realized he had never corrected the lie he had told when Epimethius had asked where he had come from. He hadn¡¯t thought at the time that he could tell the child that he had been in such a messy process as being sculpted out of clay¡ª¡±and¡± Epimethius continued, ¡°raised me to manhood. You have always chosen wisely and I wish for you to choose this in wisdom as you see fit.¡±

    Prometheus let out a long breath. ¡°I am gratified by your confidence in me.¡± The sentence seemed formal, but it was a momentous occasion which required some formality. ¡°In that case.¡± Prometheus spoke slowly.¡±I grant to you and your descendants, alone of all the animals of earth, empathy.¡± The word, imbued with power as it was bounced off the surrounding hills for some seconds before settling over Epimethius and changing his very nature. ¡°The ability to feel what you fellow creatures are feeling: joy and pain. This, above all gifts,¡± Prometheus tried to forget about his botched last job with the dodo, ¡°will be a blessing and a curse. It will not help you survive, but it will help you live.¡±

    The pair had stopped walking and turned to face each other for the exchange and now Epimethius respectfully bowed slightly.

    ¡°I will cherish it all my days and will attempt to teach its value to my children.¡± His sentence, too, was overly formal as the occasion demanded, but it was sincere.

    Prometheus put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You have grown to be a great man, Epimethius.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°You¡¯re still the same doddering old ancient one that I strongly suspect you were born as.¡±

    With that the formality of the situation was broken and the god and mortal returned to their former stations as father and son.

    ¡°So tell me.¡± Prometheus said wryly. ¡°Have you stopped raising cattle? You once had vast herds and now I see only a few scrawny beasts wandering aimlessly around your land.¡±

    Epimethius pressed his lips tightly together. ¡°Zeus,¡± he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. ¡°is a jealous god.¡±

    Prometheus again stopped walking, his brow furrowed at the comment.

    ¡°What do you mean, Epimethius? do not burden me with riddles.¡±

    Epimethius was silent for a long moment, he clearly had reservations about what he was about to say.

    ¡°The streams,¡± he began, ¡°are filled with lesser water gods, the glades are full of nymphs, the fields are full of satyrs, and the world resounds with the praises of Zeus. All of creation rejoices at what he will do.¡±

    To any of the creatures that Epimethius had named, the statement would have seemed nothing but honorific and appropriate. Prometheus, however, had raised Epimethius from infancy. He understood the unspoken meanings behind not just what Epimethius said, but how he said it: Zeus has ears everywhere,¡± he was saying, ¡°and the promise of what he might do is not good enough; what he¡¯s done will show who he is. Until then, I must be careful what I say about him.

    It was a masterful sentence, with just enough reverence to remain unnoticed while maintaining clear undertones for Prometheus.

    ¡°Have you¡­¡± Prometheus paused, considering his phrasing. He believed that Zeus would be a good ruler for the people of earth. But he trusted Epimethius¡¯ judgment too much to disregard it. ¡°How do you show your devotion to the new god Zeus?¡±

    ¡°As commanded, I have sacrificed a cattle every day to the greatness of Zeus.¡± He paused for a long moment, considering before continuing on. ¡°My herd is thin and my belly is empty with devotion.¡±

    This was getting dangerously close to sedition.

    ¡°It is my privilege to make this daily sacrifice.¡± Epimethius continued carefully. ¡°For, I would not sacrifice my children.¡±

    Once again, Prometheus felt the meaning of his ward¡¯s undertone: It¡¯s not a problem for me alone¡ªa man can live on very little by himself. But when the time does come for me to share this world with posterity, we as a species will not survive without the sustenance of our herds.

    ¡°I will think on the meaning of your words.¡± Prometheus phrased his reply carefully to indicate that he had understood what Epimethius gestured to. ¡°You will hear my reply before ever you are called upon to teach your posterity how to homage the gods.¡±

    The pair continued their walk in thought-filled silence.

    <hr>

    It wasn¡¯t until Helios was at the end of his journey, when he sent his army of red and purple messenger sprites out from his western palace to grace the sky, that Prometheus finally left. He had lots to think about and he did so as his Pegasi flew him almost haphazardly toward Olympus. He was upset with Zeus: a bad position to be in where the new king of the gods was concerned.

    In the natural course of consolidating power, Zeus had been relatively harsh with any possible dissenters to his reign. Prometheus was not one such disorderly, he still believed that Zeus would be an excellent king of the gods. Notwithstanding, he could not overlook the fact that he appeared to have been intentionally misdirected to an unimportant task so that Zeus could play power games over Epimethius. Prometheus was doubly affronted because Epimethius was both his son and the representative of an entire race to come. It was unacceptable that any god, especially a god whom Prometheus had chosen for the sake of humanity, should treat his creation as just a way to flex. He would not¡ª

    Prometheus realized that he needed to calm down. ¡°There are three parts to this story,¡± he told himself, ¡°the man¡¯s, the god¡¯s, and the cow¡¯s. You¡¯ve only heard one so far.¡±

    He was making unavoidably good time to Olympus, though the trip was less pleasurable than the previous one to see Epimethius. The fields were still green and Greece was still¡­greasy, but the air seemed colder. Perhaps that was because Helios had already finished his journey and night had come, perhaps it was a reflection of Prometheus¡¯ mood.

    <hr>

    He landed in the courtyard of the opulent megaron that served both as the seat of government and as Zeus¡¯ home. A centaur hurried out to see to his horses. It hadn¡¯t taken long after Zeus came to power before the god of blind hubris, Ixion, had possessed the audacity to try to sleep with Zeus¡¯ wife, Hera. Zeus, being forewarned of the plan, had fashioned an exact copy of Hera out of a cloud and named her Nephele. Ixion, lust blinded dolt that he was, had apparently either not realized the difference between a cloud and a goddes, or not cared. The fallout was that Ixion was now rotting in in a cesspool in Tartarus for his attempt on Zeus¡¯ wife and the cloud had¡ªsomewhat surprisingly¡ªshown itself quite fertile. A strangely short time later, Centaurus was born, one who was half horse and half man. That was what they said, anyways. There was, of course, another plausible story in which a nimbus derived ¡°Hera duplicate¡± had only ever existed as¡­cloud cover, if you will. But, Prometheus did not care to challenge any official or unofficial event that could possible suggest Hera herself could give birth to half a horse. However the conception had taken place, it was not long before Centaurus had been offered the position as groomsman for the Olympic stables. Prometheus had initially been surprised. He had thought that Centaurus would perceive it as a slight on his equine nature. However, none could deny the ability of the man-horse with his near cousins. In every way pertaining to the horses, he was the most adept stable master ever to ply his hand. Unfortunately, in dealing with the non-quadruped guests, Centaurus was quite literally an equus asinus. Prometheus, however, fully sympathized with the antisocial caretaker¡¯s preference for horses over gods.

    ¡°Keep them well.¡± It was the ritual greeting of the gods for the one ¡°favored¡± to watch over their mounts. Prometheus personally felt like the majority of the time it sounded¡ªand perhaps was intended¡ªlike a threat.

    Centaurus said nothing which was his personal ritual answer to the pretentious who fancied themselves ¡°higher intelligences.¡± He took the team of pegusi and lead them slowly toward the stable where they could be unhitched.

    Prometheus peeled his attention away from the already vanished stable-master, and took a moment in the courtyard to contemplate what he was about to do. Despite Zeus¡¯ pronouncement that he ¡°knew Prometheus¡¯ part¡± in the the ultimate coupe, he held no delusions that Zeus would tolerate even the slightest challenge to his authority. Prometheus could not, therefore, just tell him to stop demanding sacrifice from Epimethius¡ªno matter how much he wanted to do just that. This was a time for diplomacy. He could not help but feel that being the god of mischief, he was but poorly suited for this task.

    Feeling, justifiably, that he had no plan and less brains, Prometheus entered the Megaron. Unlike any house, palace, or other important building built by even the most drunken chicken with the barest modicum more practicality than pride, the megaron had no front entryway, no vestibule, no staging area, and no opening hallway. Rather, it opened directly into the great throne chamber itself. The effect was quite stunning. Arranged around the hall, spaced every fifty feet or so, were seven great thrones in which were seated the greatest of the Olympians: Athena, Ares, Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Aphrodite, and¡ªat the head of the hall, seated higher than the others and draped in a brilliant golden tunic, was Zeus himself. Good as his word, Zeus had divided his dominion and shared the power over the earth. Of course, discounting his offer to Prometheus, he had only done so with his siblings¡ªwith, as they called themselves, the Olympians. Already, the Titans were nearly forgotten of a different age. Those who were too powerful to brother with were left alone, the rest were ignored.

    As he entered, all the gods heads turned to look at Prometheus as one. The effect was disconcerting. Not because of the spectacle so much as the overwhelming impression that before he had walked in the seven gods seated around the room in governmental splendor had all been sitting after dark in absolute silence. It was as if the most powerful collection of beings in the known universe didn¡¯t know how to be alive.

    Prometheus shook his head to clear it and then spoke.

    ¡°My king, Zeus.¡± Prometheus raised a hand to his chest and dropped to one knee as soon as he had reached the center of the room. He didn¡¯t know what to say, so he started from a safe base.¡°I have completed the task which you set for me. I have divided all the gifts in the world among all the animals of the world.¡±

    He waited for a reply. It was long in coming. Finally, Zeus raised his hand in what was almost a theatrical gesture and said, ¡°This is good, uncle.¡±

    Prometheus waited, Zeus didn¡¯t say anything more. After the silence in the room ran beyond the comfortable and even the uncomfortable limits of what a conversation can support, Prometheus cleared his throat.

    ¡°What is the news from Olympus, Lord Zeus? I have been gone for quite some time on my recent assignment and have heard no news of the doings of the new government.¡±

    That seemed to break the silent reserve of the god king and he, in an admittedly still somewhat disinterested voice, began at almost the moment Prometheus had left and told the differing designations of his supporters and the converse punishments of his detractors. As he mentioned each of the gods in the hall with their respective domains¡ªPoseidon over the waters, Hades over the under-earth and afterlife, Aphrodite over the love of all creatures with Ares as her counterpart holding dominion over hate and pain, and so on through the gods¡ªeach would straighten in their thrones and subtly increase their auras as if demanding respect on behalf of their domains. Unfortunately, the effect was overpressed by their detached natures. Finally, without any sort of closing formula or postamble, Zeus ceased speaking. For several minutes Prometheus waited, wondering whether the king of the Gods was, indeed, done. Yet another awkward silence assured him that it was so and he fumbled frantically in his mind for something to say. He wanted to bring up the Epimethius, but in his uncertainty of how to do so, he heard himself saying, ¡°and how is your mother?¡±

    A single look at the lowering brood on Zeus¡¯ face convinced Prometheus that he had said the wrong thing.

    ¡°She is¡­persistent and demanding.¡± Zeus said in a low growl.

    The obvious displeasure in Zeus¡¯ voice combined with the bizarre ambiance in the room threw Prometheus off balance until he felt his brain hiccup. He knew he should confront Zeus, but before conscious thought knew what was happening, he had asked for and received a new assignment and left.

 219 Months

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you.¡±

    Prometheus had heard Rhea say that before. What she really meant was, ¡°I want to yell at you a whole lot so that you know I¡¯m very very upset.¡±

    He sighed.

    ¡°What,¡± Rhea¡¯s voice exploded in the kind of tempest that makes whole forests topple¡ªthe kind of yell that only a very irate goddess could produce. ¡°did you make me do?!¡±

    She paused as if waiting for an answer, but Prometheus didn¡¯t bite.

    ¡°Raise Zeus, you said. You¡¯ll rule the universe through him, you said. He¡¯ll be at my beck and call, you said. Well, do you know just how often he becks when I call?¡±

    This time she really did seem to want Prometheus to say something so he raised the inside edge of his eyebrows and said. ¡°Never.¡±

    ¡°Never! Not at all! He gives me zilch! That spoiled brat won¡¯t listen to his mother for the duration of a rotten fig!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a royal shame.¡± Prometheus put on a tragic air much the way some beings put on cloaks. ¡°He probably doesn¡¯t listen to you because he¡¯s too busy listening to his father.¡± He paused for a beat to maximize the effect of his joke. ¡°scream, that is.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to console me,¡± Rhea ground out, ¡°by pointing out how much worse Cronus has it, then I suggest you stop before I show you how many ways a Titan¡¯s skin can be removed.¡±

    ¡°Too many, I would imagine.¡± Prometheus deadpanned. ¡°Look, Rhea, I don¡¯t know what went wrong. He¡¯s not entirely to my liking either, but he is still a Hades full better than Cronus.¡±

    ¡°He runs you ragged on fools errands.¡± Rhea snorted. ¡°Cronus at least let you be sovereign unto yourself.¡±

    Prometheus paused.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true, sister. Yes, I have duties now, we all do because the government is more than just a tyranny of debasing feasts, now. Rather than just rule, he¡¯s actually trying to run the planet.¡±

    He didn¡¯t mention Epimethius. No matter what cattle or goats or sheep Zeus demanded in sacrifice, he was civilization itself next to Cronos, who wanted the human to be the cattle. Rhea knew about Epimethius¡¯ existence now, everybody did, but she apparently hadn¡¯t made the connection between him and Prometheus¡¯ goals yet. Prometheus wanted to keep it that way as long as possible, for fear that she would decide to take her ire toward Prometheus out on his mortal son. To that end, he used the verbal weapon that he had invented in his first thousand years of godhood: the subject change.

    ¡°Did Zeus have any outside influences while he was on the island? Perhaps someone else found him while he was there and subverted him away from you in the middle of the night?¡±

    Rhea gave him a quizzical look. ¡°How should I know? I wouldn¡¯t be caught dead on that island.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Prometheus blinked. Then he blinked again. Then, because he wasn¡¯t sure whether the computational power of just two blinks was really enough, he blinked four more times in rapid succession.

    ¡°You¡­¡± He started to speak then stopped, thinking he must have misunderstood, then he started again. ¡°You mean to tell me¡­You mean tell me that you didn¡¯t stay on the island with him?¡±

    Rhea looked at him as though she were affronted with the very idea. The Queen of heaven, living on dirt surrounded by water?! The idea!

    ¡°You didn¡¯t stay every possible waking moment with him? You didn¡¯t even visit him in your spare time?¡± Prometheus could not fathom a parent who didn¡¯t care about their child at least as much as he had.

    Rhea looked for all the world like a petulant goddess. Her face clearly said, why should she? Wasn¡¯t it enough that she had birthed the little beast and protected him from his father and seen to it that he was hidden somewhere safe and given plenty of food to eat? Isn¡¯t that what it meant to be a good parent?

    Prometheus stood in dumb astonishment.

    Rhea said, ¡°I don¡¯t see why I should have been expected to visit that spoiled little brat.¡±

    Prometheus blinked four more times.

    ¡°You¡­¡± He was too astonished to speak. When he had made his plan to save Epimethius by overthrowing Cronus by convincing Rhea to raise a more powerful god through the gift of childhood who would one day be able to take over to be a more equitable ruler for all who are and who would be, he had not accounted for Rhea¡¯s total lack of motherness. He hadn¡¯t expected it to be well developed¡ªhe himself had tried to leave Epimethius to die in a valley somewhere two or three times before he had discovered his own father-ation¡ªbut he at least expected it to be extant.

    ¡°You just neglected him on an island by himself for fourteen years and now you¡¯re wondering why he wont listen to you?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t neglect him.¡± Rhea spoke like a petulant child herself. ¡°I had Mellissa and Amalthea check on him almost every day.¡±

    ¡°You¡± Prometheus, somewhat uncharacteristically, spluttered. ¡°You had a nymph and a goat check in on him almost every day?! Do you even know what responsibility is?¡±

    Rhea had started the conversation irritated with Prometheus, now she was starting to feel attacked which only made her defensibly irritate.

    ¡°Of course I know what responsibility is.¡± She snapped. ¡°Before you came along and ruined everything, I was the queen of the universe. I was responsible for everything.¡±

    ¡°And you mother as well as you ruled.¡±

    Rhea didn¡¯t seem sure whether that was a compliment or a jibe. Finally, she settled on jibe.

    ¡°If I were still queen.¡± She hissed in a deadly voice, ¡°I would¡ª¡±

    ¡°You would be the same royal mess that perfectly reflected the rest of the celestial court of fools.¡± Prometheus tiredly rubbed his hand over his face. ¡°Look, sister,¡± he tried to sound reconciliatory even though he currently loathed her ineptitude with every drop of icar in his veins. ¡°You messed up. You left the next king of the universe to raise himself, and all things considered, I think he turned out pretty well. But he¡¯s not the masterpiece of justice and mercy that I had hoped for any more than the impressionable fawn that you wanted.¡±

    Rhea¡¯s eyes narrowed as she realized, perhaps for the first time, that Prometheus had never intended her to have the any sway over Zeus¡¯ ear at all.

    ¡°But,¡± Prometheus continued, ¡°there is one thing that worked out absolutely as effectively as we had both hoped: Zeus is one powerful son of a Titan.¡±

    The implication was clear, Zeus was here and he was here to stay.

    Rhea was still glaring daggers at Prometheus and he wondered whether she had comprehended at all her own culpability in the way Zeus had turned out. He doubted it. But, then, it wasn¡¯t as bad as it could be. Zeus was certainly maladjusted and a social disaster, but he was well minded and stouthearted with equitable ideas and ingenious reforms. And though Prometheus¡¯ current problems seemed like a mountain of trouble, he still recognized that he was in a far better place now than he had been before. Zeus was demanding in his need for oblations¡­but, though mankind may yet starve, but that was preferable to the indignity of a well masticated death.

    Prometheus turned his back on Rhea and strode away.

 220 Months

    ¡°You just have to realize how much good your sacrifice will accomplish for the rest of your race.¡±

    The bovine audience of one looked at Prometheus with baleful eyes. The gaze was not condemning (though he was certain the entire cow species was still bitter about its gift) but it contained such an ocean of sorrow that Prometheus found himself pausing. It was as if the creature was mourning its own death to be.

    ¡°Stop it.¡± Prometheus knew the creature didn¡¯t understand him, but he spoke regardless. ¡°It¡¯s not like you had that much longer to live anyway. At the rate Epimethius is going you probably would have ended up as tomorrow¡¯s sacrifice.¡± The cow blinked once. ¡°What do you mean ¡®first my gift¡¯? I gave you a plenty good gift! One of the best, in fact.¡±

    The cow mooed plaintively.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen the future like I have, it¡¯s a dangerous place and despite your penchant for herds, you¡¯re not a very threatening animal.¡±

    The cow turned her head away.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t give me that. You know I had to reserve the physical gifts for the predators.¡±

    She turned back and blinked twice.

    ¡°Well, yes. I gave the Kangaroo a pretty good jump, but I could only give out each gift once¡ªthose were the rules¡ªand I¡¯d already given speed to the cheetah and strength to the gorilla and size to the elephant. It wasn¡¯t my fault that you were so far back in line.¡±

    The cow mooed again.

    Prometheus coughed uncomfortably.

    ¡°Yes, well, flight seemed to fit the pegasi better. I mean, can you imagine flying cows?¡±

    The bovine clearly could imagine flying cows and furthermore thought they would do a better job of it than those prancing pegasi.

    Prometheus rolled his eyes. ¡°Look, I told you, I¡¯ve seen the future, I know where safety lies, it¡¯s with him and his kind.¡± he gestured in the direction of Epimethius¡¯ hut. ¡°By giving you the gift of usefulness I am essentially putting you under their protection. In ten thousand years, the cheetah will be nearly gone and there won¡¯t be a pegusis left, but your kind will proliferate.¡±

    The cow stared at him.

    ¡°Alright, yes you will be used for meat and milk. Yes I condemned the individuals of your species to miserable lives in tight lots followed by gruesome deaths, indecent grinding for clowns selling ¡°burgers¡±, and an obesity epidemic, but it won¡¯t be that bad for all of you.¡±

    The cow was silent.

    ¡°Some will be range fed and I¡¯ve already set in motion a rage for hobby farming somewhere down the road that will be downright pleasant for a few of you. Well, no I couldn¡¯t have given you companionability. I mean, the dog is just better suited for that gift.¡±

    The cow was silent.

    ¡°Your tail was just not expressive! You looked like you were swatting flies, not greeting a friend.¡±

    The cow turned and started to walk away.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m done talking about this too.¡± Prometheus rolled his eyes before remembering his unfinished business.

    ¡°Hey! I¡¯m not done with you!¡±

    An hour of messy work later, Prometheus had his reticent conversation partner dismembered and sorted into her component parts. Choosing the best cuts of meat, he spread the skin out on the ground and placed them in the center. Then, he rolled the whole thing into a bundle and placed it to the side. He took the remaining bones and cartilage and pushed them into an appetizing chuck of tender fat.

    ¡°I apologize for the indignity of the situation,¡± he said to the piles of cow scattered about the room, ¡°it¡¯s not the prescribed way of doing things¡­yet, that is. That is why we¡¯re here, after all.¡±

    He packed up the two bundles and headed to Olympus.

    ¡°Lord Zeus. It is good that humans should sacrifice to you.¡± Prometheus had been practicing this speech for weeks, ever since he had come up with this admittedly goat brained plan shortly after his nighttime visit three weeks before. But he didn¡¯t believe a word of it. Sacrifice, in his opinion, had to be the greatest waste of resources anyone had ever devised. It¡¯s not like there was actually anything left for Zeus after Epimethius burned a sacrifice: it didn¡¯t magically show up in the kitchens of Olympus when it was burned. All that was left was an empty belly, a pile of ash, and a planet with rapidly deteriorating air quality. And anyway, the gods wouldn¡¯t be caught mortal eating the kinds of cattle that Epimethius had. They only ate the Golden cattle of Helios. And yet, Prometheus said it was good that humans sacrifice. ¡°But it is not good that they sacrifice all to you.¡± He continued carefully.

    Zeus stiffened on his throne.

    ¡°My liege,¡± Prometheus hurried on. ¡°how can the humans know what it is they give up if they are to sacrifice all to you? Epimethius has tasted cattle, yes, and he will know, but what of his children? How will they know the devotion demanded of them if every day they burn an offering to you that is no more than that, an offering? If it is not intrinsically valuable to them, then it cannot be praise for you.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Prometheus paused for a moment to let Zeus mull that in his head.

    Finally, Zeus filled the silence by asking. ¡°What would you recommend, Uncle? It is not good that Man should forget to appreciate the depth of his obligation to me.¡±

    This was the opening Prometheus had been waiting for. ¡°My liege, you must demand that man should offer only a portion of the chosen sacrifice to you. The rest, he should keep for himself for his own use, to remember how good what he has offered has been. I have taken the liberty,¡± he produced from under his robes the two bundles that he had so meticulously prepared: the choice meats wrapped in skin, and the cartilage, bones, and intestines sunk in appetizing fat. ¡°Of separating a sacrifice into two parts, as seem good to me, so that you may simply and conveniently choose one and mankind might begin this new practice of sacrifice as soon as possible.¡±

    If Zeus had been with the gods before his ascension, instead of on an island in the Mediterranean, he would have suspected a trick. In fact, one long conversation with any of the old Titans about ¡°the good old days,¡± would probably have revealed Prometheus as not just a trickster, but the god of tricksters (a title now held by Hermes)¡ªrarely or never to be trusted. But Zeus had been on the island and he had not taken the time to ¡°chat¡± with any of the Titans, as such, the only thought in his head was that everyone must naturally have one goal at heart¡ªthat of accomplishing his will.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Zeus said, his voice resonating around the large pillared room. ¡°I choose¡ª¡±

    ¡°My liege,¡± Prometheus made the dangerous move of interrupting the absolute monarch of the universe. ¡°It is enough for the gods that you merely choose, but man is a fickle thing with a great disbelief and a stubborn idiocy when it comes to tradition.¡± This wasn¡¯t untrue, Prometheus remembered how he had tied up the goat when he was teaching Epimethius to pray to the gods so that the goat wouldn¡¯t keep nibbling Epimethius¡¯ ear and otherwise distracting him. Twenty years later, Epimethius refused to pray without first having a goat to tie up. ¡°They will need,¡± he continued, ¡°a binding oath if they are to be convinced to change.¡±

    Zeus looked annoyed, but said, ¡°What would you have me do?¡±

    ¡°Choose by your power that is and the powers that will be.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Zeus ground out, then straightening in his throne, he proclaimed, ¡°By my power which is, and by the powers which will be, I choose the left portion.¡±

    He reach his arm out and the shining block of fat flew from Prometheus, left hand into Zeus¡¯ outstretched palm.

    Prometheus did his best to plaster on a puzzled look and, with a slight bow said, ¡°Very well, if that is your pleasure. You are most gracious indeed.¡±

    Zeus suddenly looked up in sharp suspicion. ¡°Why? Did you not think I deserved the best?¡±

    Prometheus knew he was walking a very dangerous line here. ¡°No, no, no.¡± he hurried to assure his king. ¡°You deserve the very best. In this, you have once again shown your magnanimity as a selfless god."

    Zeus¡¯ eyes went wide and he tore open the block of fat to find the utterly useless contents.

    He was a dangerous shade of purple. ¡°What have you done?¡± His voice was deadly quiet so that, even with his godly projection, Prometheus had to strain to hear the words.

    ¡°Bones and cartilage that I had wrapped in fat so as to keep them supple and usable over the choice cuts wrapped in skin to keep them clean.¡± It was time for the linchpin. He continued as though the king wasn¡¯t contemplating dismemberment of a near relative. ¡°This is, after all, the standard way to transport these things.¡±

    Prometheus projected innocence. However, he also knew that Zeus could not challenge his own choice or blame him without admitting he had made a mistake¡ªsomething which the new king of heaven would never admit to. The fact that he had been so formal in making the choice, choosing ¡°By [his] power¡±, meant the social pressures disallowed any reversal at all. Finally, Prometheus had taunted him by saying essentially no body else would have made such a mistake. Unfortunately, Prometheus knew that Zeus¡¯ mere inability to renege on his choice did not mean he would not seek retribution for the deception. It was entirely possible that Prometheus would silently disappear one night and the only evidence that he had ever existed would be Epimethius and the occasional instance when the other Gods would sit around chatting and someone would look around and say, ¡°hey, do you remember that weird little Titan, Brobeastus¡ªor whatever his name was? Whatever happened to him? Is he still kicking around the continents?¡±

    To which the other gods would look in confusion until finally someone would say, ¡°I think you¡¯ve been hitting the ambrosia a little hard. Man.¡± and then the others would chime in with things like, ¡°I don¡¯t remember any Crowmeatsus,¡± or ¡°Everyone important is in this room.¡± all of which would be perfectly true because any member of the fantastic collection of egos that makes up the gods could stand alone in a closet and know that everyone they deemed important was in that room.

    Prometheus forced himself to breath calmly and returned his attention back to Zeus. He had offended enough for the day without adding inattention to his crimes.

    ¡°You are, of course, correct.¡± Zeus was clearly containing his anger with a great force of will. ¡°This is as it seems good to me.¡±

    Prometheus breathed a little easier.

    Zeus pondered for nearly a minute before continuing. ¡°While we are discussing the subject of sacrifice, the man has been diligent in performing his oblations to me. It is time that I do something to show my pleasure to mankind.¡±

    Prometheus¡¯ breath caught. He knew Zeus was angry and almost certainly looking for an outlet to his anger. Epimethius would be an easy target. Still there was one other gift that Prometheus had promised his son and suddenly, he saw a dangerous but possible avenue to accomplishing it. It was foolish, to press his already strained luck, but he had waited too long already.

    ¡°My lord Zeus.¡± He cleared his throat nervously. ¡°If I may. The man Epimethius has long been in need of that which he wants not. It is good that we perpetuate the race of man so that they may worship you and sacrifice to you for millennia to come. However, the man, Epimethius, daily begs me not to curse him with a wife. Perhaps, in your wisdom¡­¡± Prometheus left the sentence hanging. It had been badly presented. He had not had time to prepare and in a delicate matter like manipulating gods preparation and timing were key.

    There isn¡¯t any way, he thought, that Zeus didn¡¯t see through that. What, he thought, was I thinking?

    He had hoped the dual nature of his request, a benevolent fulfillment of a need plus a flippant disregard of wishes, would satisfy both Zeus¡¯ need to lash out and his wish to appear benevolent. But he was not yet used to reading Zeus and feared he had made a terrible error. Additionally, this was all assuming that Zeus didn¡¯t realize how completely and unutterably false the bit about Epimethius not wanting a wife was. Prometheus did get daily requests on the subject, but not to spare Epimethius the curse, but rather to grant him the blessing of a wife. He was fairly sure, though, or at least dearly hoped, that Zeus had never listened to a word Epimethius said.

    Zeus narrowed his eyes looking thoughtful. ¡°Why have you not already forced a mate upon him?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Because I love him too well, your majesty. I could not bring myself to hurt him even if it was for his own good.¡± Prometheus was beginning to wonder whether he remembered how to tell the truth. He knew that were he to create a mate for Epimethius, she would have the same flaws that he had which would then necessarily pass down to all of their posterity in the form of ultimately disastrous mutations. He needed some other god or gods to create a mate so that their flaws would be in different places. This seemed like it may be his only chance.

    Zeus rubbed his chin thoughtfully; then, unnervingly, he showed his teeth in what could most accurately be called a smile.

 220 Months, 1 Week

    They (whoever ¡°they¡± were) were right. The waiting was the worst part. Or was it the not knowing? Or, perhaps just the looming feeling that an entire pantheon of gods were planing to boil you from the inside out because you thought it would be a jolly good idea to play a practical joke on the blooming seat of their godly power in a way that they could never understand because your motives are based on things they don¡¯t feel, like ¡°love¡± or ¡°protectiveness¡± or terms they don¡¯t understand like ¡°altruism¡± or ¡°best interest¡± when paired with other, equally confusing terms like ¡°of others¡± and instead just see things in shades of ¡°self interest¡± and ¡°amusement¡± the way supreme beings are apt to, especially when they had a depressingly and in many ways literally non-existent childhood which is all sad and pity inducing and whatnot but still gives them no right to bully other defenseless, well not defenseless¡ªbut certainly at the very least under-powered, gods like yourself and your in all actuality defenseless son who is, after all, just a mortal and, despite his thirty years on earth, still a child where compared to beings who can hope to live for an eternity of millions of years which was the inevitable life expectancy of the gods who (he wasn¡¯t certain how but) were definitely out to get both him and his son and why had he thought this was a good idea in the under¡ª

    Prometheus slapped himself¡­hard. He was spiraling, and he knew it. There was nothing he could do now but wait patiently for the outcome of his several gambles.

    Whether deceiving and possibly humiliating Zeus had been a good idea and whether setting him on the path to create Epimethius¡¯ mate at this point in time had been wise would still remain to be seen. All he could do was wait and see what it was that the council of Olympians would do and then run any needed damage control.

    He didn¡¯t think they were actually planning to boil him from the inside out (at least, he hoped not, Cronus had done that to him once before for a practical joke involving a golden fleece, a volcano and, perhaps, the only case of celestial Acne ever seen. Well, it had not been a pleasant experience¡­though the furies were still out on whether it was worth it. The joke had been a brilliant laugh) but he was certain they were planning some sort of vindictive revenge.

    Finally he couldn¡¯t take it any longer.

    ¡°Centaurus!¡± he called.

    The quiet groomsman emerged from the stables.

    ¡°My pegusi, quick.¡± It was not the first time Prometheus had snapped at the Centaur, but it was the first time in a while.

    When his chariot was ready he flew. He reigned his team toward the coast and let them fly without holding back.

    <hr>

    ¡°So,¡± Epimethius was clearly making an effort¡ªa small effort, but an effort nonetheless¡ªto contain his snorts of mirth. ¡°let me get this straight: you tricked Zeus into choosing to let me only sacrifice the parts of the cow that are useless while letting me keep both the skin and the meat? You did this at Olympus, without a disguise, and in front of all the other gods?!¡±

    ¡°You are being very cavalier about all this, Epimethius.¡± Prometheus was a little peeved that his son didn¡¯t feel as strongly as he did the impending doom coming their way.

    ¡°Father, you¡¯re insane.¡± Finally, Epimethius could hold it in no longer and he let out a great laugh so varied in volume and tone and so long in duration that it may very well have been the world¡¯s first symphony.

    Prometheus stared at him flatly. ¡°They are out¡± he spoke the words slowly after Epimethius had exhausted his vocal mirth, ¡°to get us. Do you not understand? This could be the last night on earth for either or both of us.¡± That was an exaggeration, but condemn it all to Tarturus, Prometheus was here to have his concern validated, not laughed at.

    ¡°Oh, come now, father. You¡¯re immortal, they cant kill you¡­well, not permanently anyway. So what do you have to worry about.¡±

    ¡°There are worse fates than death, Epimethius, especially for those who cannot die.¡±

    That sobered Epimethius up just a little.

    ¡°Very well, so they¡¯re out to get you.¡± He looked at Prometheus sternly. ¡°Without overstating the facts the way you¡¯re all too apt to do, what is the worst you can reasonably expect?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not me I¡¯m worried about.¡± Prometheus said sullenly. ¡°You¡¯re the mortal one of us and the only reason I stick around this worthless space boulder of a planet.¡±

    ¡°As flattering as it is that you think my home, which I¡¯m very fond of, by the way, is a worthless space boulder, you avoided the question.¡±

    Prometheus sighed, sometimes he forgot that all those years as he was raising Epimethius, Epimethius was also being raised by him. Being able to read the other person in their father-son relationship was very much a double edged butter-knife.

    ¡°Okay,¡± he relented his overreaction, ¡°They care very deeply¡ªat least for the time being¡ªto appear benevolent. In addition, they can¡¯t openly do anything to either of us without admitting that I pulled a fast one on Zeus, and I don¡¯t think his pride will ever allow him to admit that to himself or to anyone else.¡±

    Epimethius gave his father his best I-told-you-that-you-were-overreacting-and-now-that-you¡¯ve-admitted-it-let-us-all-remember-who-the-more-rational-one-in-this-family-is look.

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean they won¡¯t hit back in other ways.¡± Prometheus said petulantly. ¡°In fact, they¡¯re working on something right now.¡±

    ¡°Ah ha!¡± Epimethius looked triumphant. ¡°So once again, you couldn¡¯t stand the waiting and came to me.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®again¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Oh never mind, what are they doing now?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re umm¡­¡± Prometheus didn¡¯t know how to tell his son that after fifteen years of refusing to make him a mate, he had contrived to trick a gang of barely adolescent gods to do it for him¡­and had done so directly after insulting their intelligence. ¡°making you something.¡± He finished lamely.

    ¡°What? a gallows? a guillotine? A tall set of white cliffs with a steep drop and sharp rocks?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know, do you?¡±

    Prometheus threw his hands in the air, he knew Epimethius would work the information out of him eventually, he decided to spare himself the agony of an interrogation.

    ¡°They¡¯re making you a wife.¡± He braced himself for the accusing protests of ¡®why would you leave such an important task to them?¡¯ or ¡®but I like your work!¡¯ and ¡®how could you make them mad and then let them choose what kind wife I get? Do you want me to marry a psychopath?¡¯ But instead, Epimethius said:

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Prometheus was genuinely confused.

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful!¡± Epimethius repeated. ¡°So I am finally to get a wife!¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯re barely adolescent gods!¡± Prometheus protested, ¡°How can you trust them with something so important?¡±

    Epimethius pushed his lips out and raised one eyebrow. ¡°You were ¡®barely an adolescent god¡¯ developmentally when you made me. You told me so yourself.¡±

    ¡°But, they have ulterior motives!¡±

    This time Epimethius rolled his eyes along with his neck in an exaggerated movement. ¡°You made me for, and I quote you here, ¡®entertainment¡¯. I would rather have been made with that ulterior motive than not made without it.¡±

    ¡°But.¡± Prometheus searched for why he was feeling so hurt. ¡°Don¡¯t you like my work? Didn¡¯t you want me to make you a wife?¡±

    Epimethius looked at him, kindly this time. ¡°Of course I did, Father! You know me better than anyone in this world it would have been a joy for both of us were you to form my wife. But you didn¡¯t, and you had good reasons for not doing so. As much as I want the wife you would have made, I understand that this is the way it has to be if I¡¯m to have healthy posterity as well. I think what bothers you is that this is not the way you imagined it going.¡±

    That was nearly it. Prometheus had always known it would ultimately have to go this way, but for so long he had harbored the hope that he would find a god who could do the creation for him while he watched over their shoulder and gave direction. There wasn¡¯t a god in the universe that would be humble enough for that. He felt an endless ocean of tears searing the back of his eyes.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you just a little bit worried?¡± He asked Epimethius.

    Epimethius gave a small snort, ¡°Worried? Of course I¡¯m worried! No matter the necessity, I would have preferred it you didn¡¯t upset them before they began.¡±

    Prometheus looked away. ¡°Yes. You may end up with a mean spirited crone at that.¡±

    Epimethius smiled. ¡°But whatever flaws they may give her to start with, I can¡¯t find it in myself to be worried. People change; you taught me that.¡±

    ¡°We taught each other that.¡±

    ¡°Still,¡± Epimethius continued, ¡°I¡¯d better brace myself for a couple really tough years.¡±

    ¡°Assuming she doesn¡¯t poison you right off in your sleep.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Prometheus pursed his lips thoughtfully, ¡°Zeus wouldn¡¯t do anything personally, but if he gave her a penchant for murdering people in their sleep¡­He wouldn¡¯t technically be responsible.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s a horrifying thought.¡± Epimethius said, frowning slightly. ¡°Do you really think he¡¯d do that?¡±

    Prometheus laughed, and, for the first time since he had set this whole thing in motion, he felt his tension ease just a fraction of a span. ¡°Not really.¡± He said. ¡°Zeus is still responsible for the product. A flaw that obvious would reflect poorly on him as a creator. And besides, for all his anger, I don¡¯t think he actually wants you dead.¡±

    ¡°A poor sacrifice is, after everything, better than no sacrifice at all.¡± Epimethius said.

    ¡°Eh.¡± Prometheus rolled his eyes. ¡°If you say so.¡±

    Epimethius scrunched his eyebrows, attempting to determine what his fathers offhand comment could mean. ¡°Wait¡­¡± Epimethius narrowed his eyes. ¡°What¡­.¡± He worked his jaw up and down two or three times. ¡°It is better than no sacrifice, isn¡¯t it? The cattle I sacrifice serve a purpose don¡¯t they?¡±

    Prometheus remained silent.

    Epimethius violently displayed a shockingly robust expletive-derived vocabulary that Prometheus was certain had not come from himself.

    <hr>

    ¡°Are you ready? Do you feel ready? Is that really the best tunic you have? I think we¡¯re a little early so you might still be able to go get a different one, but don¡¯t take too long¡ªwe don¡¯t want to be late. We should really¡ª¡±

    ¡°Father,¡± Epimethius cut in, ¡°Relax.¡± He mimed breathing slowly. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine, we¡¯re meeting my wife, not delivering a baby.¡±

    ¡°I just, what if she¡¯s not nice? It¡¯s not too late to back out, you know.¡± Prometheus hadn¡¯t felt this nervous since his own birth.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Not too late.¡± Epimethius agreed. ¡°But a little early, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    The smile that evoked from Prometheus was a wry one.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, of course.¡±

    They were waiting in the courtyard in front of the Olympic Megaron. Prometheus had stayed with Epimethius until they had both been summoned before the council of major gods. Even without his prophetic foresight, Prometheus knew that there was only one thing for which they could be summoned. They were to meet Epimethius¡¯ mate, helpmete, wife, companion, second half, partner, there would be many titles for the woman they were about to meet. What puzzled Prometheus was how long it had taken for the summons to come. He had stayed with Epimethius for a full week, before Hermes had appeared to tell them that the project had been finished and they were to appear at Olympus at Ten sharp the next day. A whole week: it had taken Prometheus three hours on a lazy afternoon to create Epimethius. Perhaps Prometheus was just a genius. Perhaps life by comity is a much less efficient process. Perhaps¡ªPrometheus¡¯ own belief¡ªthey just took their sweet time to be sure to cook up a really nefarious stew-pot in retaliation for the sacrifice thing. Whatever it was, they were here now. After a week of stewing, fretting, wondering whether they¡¯d given the idea up, thinking about checking in and chickening out, it was finally here. During those seven days Epimethius¡¯ garden had been cleared of weeds so many times that there was hardly a spec of bio matter, good or bad, left and his bookshelf had been dusted so many times that some of the books had lost their covers. For crying out loud (which was exactly what Prometheus really wanted to do at this moment), It had taken six days to create the entire universe which included figuring out a stable structure for the atom and messing up probability fields so badly that somewhere in an alternate universe a dead cat had rolled over in its boxy grave. Six days! For every rock, sun, plant, river, and nebulaic whale. Six days to invent physics and biomechanics and electrical phenomena and aurora borealis. Six days to teach fish to swim and plants to grow and birds to fly and goats to stay out of Uranus¡¯ ivy garden. All that only took six days for three board gods. Whatever, or whomever, Prometheus was about to meet, had taken twelve gods seven days.

    Hermes appeared at the entryway of the megaron.

    ¡°Well, come on, I said ten o¡¯clock sharp.¡± As he spoke he gestured to a nearby sundial.

    Prometheus couldn¡¯t help a small eye-roll at the insistence on exact time based on a fairly subjective measure. Helios was anything but prompt. One time, he had stopped to ¡°frolic¡± with a wood nymph and the day had frozen at three o¡¯clock in the afternoon for four hours. The meteorological impact had been sever. Weeks had been spent sorting out the hurricanes and by then most of the Bahamas had been washed under, leaving only a few of the taller mountains as pitiful little islands in the sea.

    ¡°Come come, we don¡¯t have all century.¡± Hermes said.

    Prometheus and Epimethius followed the winged god back into the main room of the Megaron. Epimethius had never been in here before, he stopped, craning his neck back to see the ceiling two hundred feet above. Prometheus also stopped, his attention arrested by the pillar of fine white fabric stretching all the way from the floor to the ceiling. It swayed slightly in the air currents, though there wasn¡¯t a breath of discernible convection in the space. Logically, he knew the fabric had been only recently hung, especially when compared with the Megaron itself, yet it seemed as though the windows in the room had been placed intentionally to highlight the fabric so white it may even have been emitting an aura of its own.

    ¡°Welcome,¡±

    Zeus¡¯ voice was unexpectedly gentle. Prometheus wondered if he had maybe forgotten about being humiliated a week ago. He couldn¡¯t make himself believe that, but neither did the god king seem angry in this moment. He stood in front of the massive pillar of rippling fabric with the other gods, for once not absently on their thrones, forming a larger circle around the pillar.

    Epimethius fell to one knee.

    ¡°Mighty Zeus, we obey your summons.¡±

    Prometheus scrunched up his face, Epimethius always seemed to know the right thing to say, which in some ways made Prometheus proud as a father, but as a god who was many millennia the senior of his mortal son, it made him feel foolish. He hurriedly dropped to a knee, mimicking Epimethius¡¯ pose.

    ¡°Epimethius,¡± Zeus spoke the name as though he were a loving father and for a moment Prometheus felt a stab of Jealousy.

    ¡°You have performed your duties well, you have been diligent in your sacrifices and oblations to me and your prayers are ever heard.¡±

    Okay, it wasn¡¯t a moment, nor a stab; it was more like a bucket of jealousy which had drenched Prometheus and was taking some time to drip dry off.

    ¡°Great Zeus, god of the sky, god of my heart,¡± Make that a raging torrent of jealousy, ¡°you are the beginning and the ending of all that is or will be. No sacrifice is too great nor duty performed too well for your greatness.¡±

    A raging torrent infested with flesh eating piranhas.

    ¡°I am yours to command. Obedience in your service is its own reward.¡±

    ¡­and electric eels.

    While Prometheus struggled with his threatened fatherly pride at Epimethius¡¯ (in Prometheus¡¯ estimation, way over the top) greeting, Zeus seemed pleased.

    ¡°Your devotion has been noted and will be rewarded.¡± He smiled benevolently as though he were the only good in the world. After a pause, adequate to allow Epimethius to appreciate his words, Zeus continued.

    ¡°What is it that you most desire, my son?¡±

    That was too far; only Prometheus got to use that moniker for his son. If he didn¡¯t actually love his son, he would have given Zeus a piece of his mind and let the consequences be damned. However, he doubted that would end well for Epimethius, so he kept his mouth shut and his posture unreadable.

    ¡°Nothing more than to serve you.¡± Epimethius said, humbly.

    Zeus smiled, ¡°That is good, but I have looked on your heart and have seen one desire more, so deep that perhaps even you do not realize it. You have been lonely these many years and want a mate.¡±

    Prometheus could see Epimethius tense, almost trembling with anticipation, not trusting himself to look up lest he break the spell and undo what was about to be done. Being reminded just how badly Epimethius wanted a companion, and the torrent washed itself away, taking the piranhas and the electric eels with it. He, too, would say anything to make this go right for his son.

    ¡°We have seen fit to grant you this wish of your heart.¡± Zeus said. He raised one hand and stepped to the side as two hundred feet above, the clasps which had secured the fabric unlatched and thirty-two massive streamers of fine white cloth fell to the floor, twisting and billowing as they did so, and fanning out in a flower pattern on the polished marble. Aside from being a few flowers short of a bouquet, it was said that Rhea was the most beautiful woman ever created. And Prometheus had believed she was, until he saw the woman standing in the center of what had been the pillar of cloth. She stood, straight and confident, with her chin up and her lips pressed together expectantly; the air, still churning from the fall of cloth, caught at the deep mahogany waves of hair and gently caressed them back and forth as though a sunset tide had been distilled into the tresses. Her eyes were the brown of a tropical hibiscus bred into the color of life. The smile in her eyes was so potent that it seemed to extend down onto the perfectly sized and rounded mouth rather than the other way around. There was a simplicity to the harmony of her face that seemed to suggest the world was on its axis and the stars were shining bright. Her chestnut skin was so flushed with life, that the very gods arranged in a circle around her seemed pale and sickly.

    There was absolute silence in the megaron while her beauty worked its charm. Then, finally, she parted her soft lips, raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow a fraction of an inch, and said in a voice that carried every melody for centuries to come, ¡°Who are you?¡±

    The food was exquisite, the company was brilliant. Prometheus¡¯ contribution of first century wine was less than acceptable. All around the meal had been possibly one of the best experiences of Prometheus¡¯ existence.

    They were seated around a small table in Epimethius¡¯ house where he now lived with his surprisingly charming wife, Pandora.

    ¡°Did you get enough, Prometheus? There¡¯s plenty for seconds and thirds.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Prometheus hurried to assure her. ¡°I adored the wraps. What did you call them?¡±

    ¡°Gyros.¡±

    ¡°Mmmmm, well the pita was incredible, truly made the Gyros¡ªif you¡¯ll pardon the expression¡ªworthy of the gods.¡±

    Pandora smiled and chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s good, seeing as ¡®the gods¡¯ have seen fit to grace us with their presence. But I really must protest, Theus¡¯ feta was the source of any excellence in this meal.¡±

    Epimethius grinned and cut in, ¡°Come now, dearest, we all know I like cheese as much as the next man¡ªand a whole lot more than the last¡ªbut I must agree with father on this one. Take away the fillings and I would still be happier than a satyr in a flower patch with that pita.¡±

    Pandora flushed and gave Epimethius a playful push.

    ¡°I, too, must protest.¡± Prometheus said bowing slightly. ¡°A god¡¯s presence is no grace.¡±

    ¡°A goat¡¯s presence is a grace if it is shared freely.¡±

    If someone had compared Prometheus¡¯ presence to that of a goat, however favorably, seventy years ago, they probably would have learned a valuable lesson in heat transfer and particle physics. Now, however, with both his belly and his heart full, he laughed deep-throated from his belly.

    ¡°However,¡± Pandora continued, ¡°your presence is an infinite blessing above a goat.¡±

    Prometheus guffawed even louder.

    Epimethius and Pandora stole a quick kiss.

    If the universe could sigh in contentment, it would have done so in that instant.

    It had been three weeks since Prometheus and Epimethius had been called to Olympus to meet Pandora¡ªthree wonderful, exciting weeks of discovery and companionship for all three of the beings seated around the little table. Once he had finally been convinced that Pandora was harmless, Prometheus had tried to leave her and Epimethius alone as much as possible so they could get to know each other. But they thoughtfully had included him in some dinner or excursion nearly every evening. Prometheus knew it was just Epimethius taking pity on his old father, but he was equally certain that this was the best thing he had ever been a part of.

    ¡°You are a wonder, daughter.¡± Prometheus had been nervous about this for about two of the three weeks that he had known Pandora, he had never yet called her ¡°daughter¡± and he wasn¡¯t sure how she would like it. She was too even tempered to get angry, but that just made it worse as it meant he may never know if she didn¡¯t like him calling her by such a familiar term.

    ¡°Thanks¡­dad.¡± She said the word readily, though it clearly still tasted strange on her tongue. Prometheus didn¡¯t trust himself to speak; to be ¡°dad¡± to both Epimethius and Pandora was more joy to him than he could have once imagined.

    ¡°I¡­¡± His voice cracked and he had to sit in silence for a moment while the other two pretended not to notice he was crying.

    ¡°Shall I get the honey cakes?¡± Pandora looked at Epimethius with a smile that asked if he needed to talk to Prometheus alone. Epimethius kissed her on the cheek and proclaimed that to be an excellent idea.

    Once she was gone, Epimethius reached across the table to put a hand on top of Prometheus¡¯ own.

    ¡°Father?¡± He was inviting Prometheus to tell him anything and everything and nothing as he needed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Prometheus swallowed his feeling back down into his core. ¡°You know what it was like before I created you?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve told me before,¡± Epimethius chuckled at some memory, ¡°many times. You said you were ¡®bored out of your immensely smart mind¡¯.¡±

    Now it was Prometheus¡¯ turn to chuckle. He had indeed said those very words to Epimethius during his son¡¯s young years.

    ¡°Yes, but it was more than that, though.¡± Prometheus leaned back in his seat. ¡°I was less than alone in the Universe. I wasn¡¯t even good company for myself. I was drowning in a sea of selfish gods and I was one. I was not simply bored before you, I was miserable. For seven thousand years I was miserable. Then one day I thought, ¡®maybe if I make a race of people, I¡¯ll be able to mess with them for the rest of eternity and things won¡¯t be so bad. It was selfish, I was going to fill the world with people and then divide it into teams with the other gods and we would use our peoples as disposable game pieces to battle for dominion over the earth. When one of us won, we would mark a score on the cliffs of Olympus and start over again. It was a despicable plan. But then, when I gave you life I gave myself life. Suddenly there was nothing more I could want because for the first time in seven thousand years, I was happy. But you were not, and that was a thorn in my happiness. I see now that I did not approach the entire situation of Pandora¡¯s creation right. In fact, I went about it entirely wrong. But even so, beyond all odds or anything I had a right to expect or deserve¡­¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s wonderful.¡± Epimethius provided.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Prometheus agreed. ¡°She¡¯s wonderful. I did everything wrong, and it all turned out so well.¡±

    They sat for a moment in silence, then Prometheus asked, ¡°Are you happy, Epimethius?¡± He knew the answer; it practically shone off his son¡¯s face, but he wanted to hear the words. He wanted to know without assumptions.

    ¡°Exquisitely happy.¡± He said.

    ¡°Then so am I.¡± Prometheus said, then, as an afterthought. ¡°Though, I still think they should have named her Periothea.¡±

    He was surprised by the laugh behind him.

    ¡°What a dreadfully complicated name.¡± Pandora had returned with the honey cakes in time to hear Prometheus¡¯ last comment.

    Prometheus uncharacteristically turned a shade of cosmic red.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, father. She already knows what you think of her name.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing personal.¡± Prometheus hurried to assure her. ¡°It¡¯s just that I have to find something wrong with the council¡¯s work, they in every other way so far exceeded my expectations¡­¡±

    Pandora gave him a knowing wink. ¡°And why would you expect me to be anything other than what I am?¡±

    ¡°I hoped you would be what you are.¡± Prometheus replied. ¡°I expected a psychotic nut case.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Pandora was genuinely curious now. As kind and mature as she was, it was easy for Prometheus to forget that she was still only a few weeks old and without a very firm perspective on recent (or, for that matter, ancient) history.

    ¡°Nevermind, dear. It¡¯s not important.¡±

    Pandora looked crestfallen and Prometheus felt bad about bringing it up in the first place. He knew how much she liked answers, and he knew how unsatisfying a dismissal like that could be. However, he also knew that the Olympians would play a large roll in the lives of these two and he didn¡¯t want to poison her mind against them right now, especially when¡ªjudging by Pandora herself¡ªthey really did seem to be out performing early expectations.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± He asked, gesturing to the honey cakes in the hopes of diverting attention away from his unfounded fears of Olympic gods.

    Pandora smiled sidelong at him, clearly understanding what he was doing but not making an issue of the point. She passed the pastries out and the three were quickly enthralled by the dessert.

    ¡°What is¡­there¡¯s a tangy flavor this time that seems new.¡± Prometheus hated to break away from his treat, but he had to ask the question. The new flavor filled out the sweet of the honey and turned what had been pleasurable in his mouth into a wild party that left him panting and begging for more.

    Pandora smiled mischievously. ¡°Nevermind, dear. It¡¯s not important.¡±

    Epimethius snorted at the reversal and nearly choked on his own honey cake.

    Prometheus winced but said, ¡°fair enough.¡±

    Pandora laughed. ¡°I¡¯m just teasing, father. I added some vinegar and wine this time mixed in with the honey. The idea came to me sometime last night and I couldn¡¯t be satisfied until I¡¯d tried it.¡±

    ¡°That, my dear, was a brilliant idea. May have even been inspiration from the gods.¡±

    ¡°If so,¡± Epimethius cut in, ¡°could you put the gods on a more limited plan? She has ten or fifteen of those ideas each day and she can¡¯t rest until she¡¯s tried them all¡­most of them don¡¯t turn out this well.¡± He shuddered, ostensibly remembering some ill fated cooking experiment from the last week.

    ¡°Hmmm, upon reflection,¡± Prometheus said, ¡°the failures are probably the divinely inspired ones.¡± Turning to Pandora in an over-dramatic confidential manner: ¡°We don¡¯t have anything this good on Olympus.¡±

    All three laughed.

    When the universe came into being, Eros created many beautiful places, amazing vistas, and isles of perfection. But that night, there was no more perfect place on earth than the little hut in a valley in Greece where three family members sat eating honey cakes.

 221 Months

    Pandora lazily ran her fingers along the beautiful carvings that adorned the entryway to her house. Her house. There were few sounds in the universe more melodious to her ear than that.

    Epimethius had gone with Prometheus to hunt¡ªno doubt in an effort to prove something manly to themselves. They really seemed to approach the practice with what Pandora would readily term ¡°childish antics.¡± But, she did appreciate the fresh meat they brought. Unfortunately, in the meantime she was left alone but clean an already spotless house or chat with those unbearably empty headed river nymphs. She had told Epimethius that she wanted to go hunting, too, but he had just laughed and said something about a ¡°manly sport.¡± Pandora didn¡¯t like that at all. It seemed like it was setting a very bad precedent and she got the terrible feeling that it would have unfortunate consequences for thousands of years yet. And all this, despite the fact that everyone knew the greatest hunter in the world was Zeus¡¯ own daughter, Artimis. Manly sport indeed.

    Pandora suppressed that line of thought. It would do her no good to think like this. And anyway, there was finally something else interesting to pay attention to: a brilliant white chariot was winging its way toward her.

    She would recognize those pegasi anywhere. She had, after all, been born on Olympus.

    Yes, behind that obnoxiously bright glow, she could just make out the outline of her father, Zeus.

    Technically, he was only part of her father. She had been made by all of the the gods and so had seven fathers and five mothers. Each one had blessed her with the characteristics they thought best: beauty from Aphrodite, ingenuity from Athena, sweetness of disposition from Demeter, strength of character from Poseidon, appreciation of life from Hades, fear of spiders from Hermes, and so on down to Apollo who had wanted to give her blood lust but¡ªon a blessed intervention from Zeus¡ªhad settled for courage instead. Secretly, though she suspected that when it came to the actual crafting of her person, Hephaestus had done the bulk of the work. But perhaps that was just her bias showing since he was the only one of the bunch who was as pleasant to talk to as he was unpleasant to look at.

    Zeus pulled his chariot to a stop in front of the bemused Pandora, who was still standing in the doorway of their hut. She quickly advanced to the foot of the chariot and made a deep bow.

    ¡°Great Zeus, this is indeed an unexpected honor. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± The speed and directness with which he had been flying seemed at odds with his now distracted nature. ¡°Oh hello, Pandora.¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to find you here. Quaint little hovel, isn¡¯t it? It certainly is no Olympus, but cozy enough for you and Epi-whats-his-toga. Speaking of¡­are your husband and my uncle stuttering somewhere about around here?¡±

    ¡°Epimethius and Prometheus are gone at the moment, lord.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Zeus proclaimed, ¡°It was you I was coming to see anyway.¡±

    Pandora felt not just a little confusion at this point, but chose to ignore the incongruity and instead said, ¡°How may I serve you?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Zeus said. ¡°I have this jar, see,¡± As he said this he produced a small ceramic jar about eight inches tall with a lid that fit snugly into the rim in a rather ingenious way (Athena or Hephaestus¡¯ work, no doubt) so that it created something of a seal. ¡°that I¡¯m rather fond of, and I¡¯m afraid that what with all the comings and going and, of course, the ever present threat of attack from disgruntled citizens or vengeful Titans and all that, I¡¯m afraid it might get broken up on Olympus and that would be a shame since I¡¯m so very fond of it.¡±

    Pandora stared at the jar, trying to figure out what it was that Zeus wasn¡¯t telling her. She hadn¡¯t been around for very long before she met Epimethius and moved off Olympus to this much smaller and much happier little home, but she knew Zeus well enough to know that his sentimental side consisted of laughing uproariously as he filled his childhood cave with lead before flattening the entire mountain range.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Zeus continued on, ¡°I was wondering whether you wouldn¡¯t be able to keep it here in this nice peaceful valley of yours for me?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Despite her misgivings about his odd behavior, Pandora was only too happy to help, especially for one who had given her so much¡ªindeed, accepted from Prometheus the instigation of her very creation.

    ¡°One thing.¡± Zeus said offhandedly. ¡°You must never open it. Whatever you do, do not under any circumstances, open it.¡± Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he added, ¡°There¡¯s a good girl.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Pandora wanted to know. ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, nothing, nothing at all.¡±

    ¡°Surely there must be some¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, no. Don¡¯t you worry your pretty little head about that.¡± Zeus said. ¡°Just remember, take care of it, and never open it.¡± So saying, and with a nonchalant wave of his hand, he flicked the reigns, wheeled his chariot around, and took off the way he had come.

    Pandora was left, without a word to say, alone, standing in front of her ¡°quaint little hovel,¡± holding the small ceramic jar, and wondering what everything that just transpired could possibly mean.

    <hr>

    It was another six hours before Epimethius came home. Six interminable, unbearable, mind-numbingly inexpressibly tortuous hours. Pandora was determined not to open the jar. She absolutely, positively refused to open the jar. You couldn¡¯t¡ªshe thought to herself¡ªstart a thriving civilization, introduce the concept of standard currency to replace the less effective and more antiquated trade based society, repeat the process with a larger, more effective civilization with a maximized economy so that the resulting monetary unit is viewed as ¡°exceptionally strong¡±, and then use that final currency to pay her to open the jar. Zeus had said not to, and by all the clouds that flow from Olympus, she would not.

    And so the first hour passed.

    It¡¯s not like she didn¡¯t have better things to do anyway. She had been curious to know what would happen if she sterilized her food exceptionally well and then sealed it away utilizing the natural processes of heat and contraction to make a sort of self sealing vacuum. She thought she might be able to keep it good for longer that way. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t have a seal good enough for the vacuum to work¡­Zeus¡¯ jar was quite ingenious in that way. She had never seen a seal so effective. If she just took off the lid to see how it worked¡­. It¡¯s not like she would be ¡°opening¡± the jar, just looking at the lid. But no, she knew better than that. There were other things to do. Who would ever want out of season cucumbers anyway?

    She made dinner, cleaned the house, weeded the garden, weeded the vineyard, weeded the yard, looked at the sea, braided her hair, mended a tunic, threw rocks at a bigger rock, isolated the white crusty substance forming on the ground near the stables for an experiment, prepped breakfast for the next day, built an alter to Hera, hosted an internal criminal trial complete with three judges and a jury of fifty two peers on the injustice of husbands leaving their wives to hunt instead of growing domestic stock like any responsible Grecian should do, added sulfur to her experiment on a whim, hauled water, wrote the worlds first exposee, wrote the worlds first heavy handed critique of an exposee, shoddy journalism, and the exposee genre in general, awarded the worlds first literary prize, received the worlds first literary prize, gave a wonderful acceptance speech about being a persecuted artist, felt misunderstood, invented the phrase ¡°threw in the towel¡± expressly so she could throw in the towel on her thankless literary life, added some unused charcoal to her experiment and¡ªforgetting that it was a gritty powder and was not at all wet¡ªset it by the fire to dry, Rebuilt sundry items of furniture which had previously been situated near the fire, checked the time, and wondered why, if there really wasn¡¯t anything in the jar, Zeus would make such a point of telling her that it was empty. Thought about opening the jar to find out. Decided that there were other things she could do than think about some old jar.

    And so the second hour passed.

    The third hour passed slowly as Pandora stared at the jar. Appreciating its curves and it¡¯s exquisite finish.

    Finally, after four and a half hours, she decided that it may be better to put the jar out of sight. Taking the little ceramic masterpiece carefully in her hands, she placed it in a cupboard that Epimethius had made just the other week.

    Fifteen minutes later, she buried it in the back yard.

    That was where Epimethius found her two hours later when he returned home, fresh venison over his shoulder.

    Prometheus was similarly laden.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why it takes six hours to catch two deer.¡± She said a quick kiss later.

    ¡°These things take time, dear.¡± Epimethius gave her a quick grin at his self-supposed wordplay.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why.¡± she repeated stubbornly. ¡°You do, after all, have a god helping you.¡± She gave Prometheus an arched look.

    ¡°I would never.¡± Prometheus placed a hand on his chest, lowered his eyebrows, and protruded his lips in a hurt pout. ¡°To use my godly power in a hunt would not only take away the sport, it would hardly be fair to the poor animal.¡±

    Pandora gave to to bags of testosterone her flattest stare.

    ¡°If you want to be ¡®fair¡¯, then you¡¯d have to teach the monkeys to use bows and then try hunting them.¡±

    That gave the two men pause.

    ¡°Point taken.¡± Epimethius said at length. ¡°Is everything alright, dear?¡±

    Pandora breathed out the tension that she was still feeling from the jar.

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just been such a long day all by myself.¡± She wondered for a moment whether she should tell them about the jar, but there was no way they would be empathetic to her quandary. Epimethius hadn¡¯t, after all, even seemed to yet notice the altered state of their hearth, or if he did, then he wasn¡¯t asking any questions. That was the way it always was with him. She had once fed him ¡°mystery meat¡± and he hadn¡¯t even bother to ask what it was¡­not that it had actually been anything out of the ordinary¡ªstill, the point remained that he hadn¡¯t asked. Some burdens were better born alone than with the unsympathetic.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Pandora said.

    For the rest of the evening, she tried her best to interact with her husband without appearing distracted. They had dinner, Prometheus¡ªas always¡ªgave effusive compliments to the cook and then left, Epimethius told Pandora about the hunt, leaving nothing out; she told him about her day, leaving everything out, and the pair retired to bed.

    It was dark and Epimethius was snoring as Pandora lay awake, listening to his respiring, watching the moonlight creep across the wall, and thinking about the jar.

    <hr>

    For a week, Pandora was almost able to put the jar out of her mind. She only thought about it in the face of some triggering reminder such as the ceramic dishes that they ate off of, or the pitcher which so closely resembled its shape, or the fresco in their entryway that bore similar colors to the jar, or any sort of air or empty space which Zeus was so adamant was all that the jar contained.

    However, after a week, she began to worry that the jar would be ruined, buried out in the yard like it was. So, it was back to the cupboard with it. In all this time she heard nothing from Olympus, no direction, no explanation, no reason why the jar was so special. First she thought, it couldn¡¯t be that special or Zeus wouldn¡¯t trust someone else¡ªlet alone a non-deity¡ªwith it¡¯s keeping. Then she thought, it must be special, or he wouldn¡¯t trust someone else¡ªespecially a non-deity¡ªwith it¡¯s keeping. Surly Hades would be a better custodian of such a piece. The fact that it was here, then, indicated that it couldn¡¯t be trusted to the other gods. That was about as comforting as alimony from Ares.

    By the time the week was up, Pandora felt thoroughly tired and completely upset.

    She was lying next to a gently snoring Epimethius with visions of the unknown thing in the jar floating in her mind. In her sleep deprived, emotion fueled imaginings, whatever the jar contained was personified. She saw herself lifting the lid just an inch and feeling a rush as a form with unnatural substance but without a face flowed out and took shape before her. She imagined feeling a combination of joy and horror at its dangerous flowing beauty as it turned a featureless head to stare into her future.

    It was silly, of course. She knew that. The jar was, in all probability, as empty as Zeus claimed. Certainly, it was not the home of some benevolent spirit any more than the prison of a terrible faceless power. But, the idea was one of those that takes hold and will give neither inch nor acknowledgment. Try though she might to put the thought out of her mind, the scene played itself over as many times as any bad theater troupe, which is to say, there was no end to it¡¯s awful antics and encores. Now the faceless being was menacing with its cowled robe and deep hood, now it was resplendent with an opulently embroidered tunic so that it may as well have been wearing a fine tapestry. At one time, it would move toward her as if to inflict some bodily harm, at another it was a peace bringer offering safety. At every repetition, however, there was one constant. She would feel in immense flush of imaginary relief at just knowing the contents of the jar. Good or bad made no difference, it was the knowing that was important.

    Even the strongest will cannot stand against itself. Pandora carefully got out of bed and picked her way across the room. She didn¡¯t want to wake Epimethius.

    Once in the tabulinum she moved less carefully. A moment later, the jar was in her hand.

    The moonlight shone through the window to glint off the beautiful glaze. Strangely, every time Pandora looked at the jar it seemed there was a different image on it. This time she could see a pair of what were obviously twins, with dark hair and welcoming features, walking contentedly, hand in hand by a small brook. The image changed as she rotated the jar until it showed a spacious arena of some sort filled and actually overflowing with people all in the action of gazing intently at a figure up on a platform in the distance. Next came an image of laughing men, all with light hair and eyes too blue to be made from a ceramic glaze, gathered round a table sharing a drink. She had rotated the jar nearly all the way around and was surprised when she saw the initial side once more. The twins were still there, still walking hand in hand, but this time they were not surrounded by the peaceful scene of water and woods, they were in a barren field surrounded by smoke. The look on their frozen faces was¡­abrupt.

    Pandora looked away, unsettled by their appearance as much as by the changing nature of the jar¡¯s glaze. For a moment, she felt the same disgust that had periodically presented itself at the thought of the unknown horror that was surely lurking for her in the bottom of the jar. But that feeling quickly resolved into an pressure so powerful, so overwhelming, that the very air she breathed seemed to compel her to know.

    For this moment the universe was an empty void. There was no floor nor ceiling, no peaceful valley somewhere in Greece, no greedy world being partitioned off between greedier deities, no universe to contain them, no Nox nor Euros to give birth to everything that is and was and will be. There was simply Pandora and a jar and a desperate need to know. Almost without thinking her had reached out to grasp the lid of the jar. She told herself that she should check the seal, just to make sure it couldn¡¯t accidentally come off. It would not do, after all, to have a mouse crawling into the King-of-the-God¡¯s favorite jar and making its home there. The lid was indeed tight, which¡ªPandora told herself¡ªwas a relief. She pulled just a little bit harder so that she could be sure of how tight it was. After all, what if it fell off the shelf? She should be prepared for any eventuality and it was prudent to know beforehand how safe the jar really was. Safe. the answer was very safe. She pulled harder. It seemed incredible that a jar could be designed with so tight a lid. Something, she told herself, must be wrong with the lid, perhaps from when she buried it; she owed it to Zeus to fix it. By now she was staining against the jar lid with everything she could muster from her relatively new arms. Surely, the lid couldn¡¯t¡ªoff. The lid popped off and rolled across the floor.

    <hr>

    Somewhere on Olympus Zeus stirred in his sleep.

    ¡°Lord, Zeus!¡±

    In a moment he was upright with one less lightning bolt next to his bed and one more large circular indent of rubble in the wall next to a nearly vaporized and very peeved Hermes.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Zeus growled to the younger god.

    ¡°You said to wake you.¡± Hermes said petulantly.

    ¡°I only said to wake me if¡­. Oh.¡± Zeus emoted no reaction. ¡°So she finally opened it?¡±

    ¡°Just minutes ago.¡±

    ¡°Took her long enough. I was beginning to think we made a gross miscalculation in our design.¡± He said with a yawn that could have consumed the Euphrates river. ¡°You may see yourself out.¡± He waved a hand indolently at Hermes who vanished almost faster that even Zeus¡¯ deific eye could follow.

    <hr>

    Pandora stood frozen while the lid¡ªhaving been pulled from her hand and sent flying across the room¡ªfinished rolling along the floor, bumping into the wall and spinning to a stop. If it had still been in her hand, she would have slammed it back on the jar in an instant. As the lid lost its momentum, it started making small circles with its rim faster and faster until it stopped moving all together.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, a black shadow oozed out of the jar. Even in the moonlight it was distinct as it flowed out of the top and fell to the ground like a heavy mist. It was blacker than anything Pandora had ever seen before. It seemed to actively devour light, scarce as that was in the night, as it collected in a contained puddle on the floor. The puddle became a trunk which grew, stretched, got pulled upward in much the way hot taffy moves when pulled by gravity. Soon, two arms and a cloaked head appeared out of the void. Pandora gasped as she recognized the figure she had imagined in that repeated scene so many times in the last week.

    ¡°What are you?¡± She whispered.

    ¡°I am the future.¡± The creature¡¯s voice sounded like a concentrated wind being blown through a mesh of thin hay.

    ¡°What future?¡± She was afraid to know the answer¡ªafraid to know what she had done.

    ¡°Your future.¡± The creature turned its faceless hood toward her. ¡°Mankind¡¯s future. Every things future.¡±

    ¡°What is your name?¡± Pandora¡¯s mouth was dry, so dry.

    ¡°I am called loss. I am called bereavement. I am called justice. I am called mercy. I am called inevitable. I am called hateful. I am called death.¡±

    ¡°Why were you in the jar?¡± Perhaps it was not the question that should have been asked, but it was the question Pandora needed to answer.

    ¡°Zeus put me there.¡±

    So he had lied. He knew what was in the jar and had simply refused to tell her.

    ¡°How long have you been there?¡±

    ¡°What is time to me?¡± The creature called death began to swell. ¡°Now that I am free, I will fill the whole world and I will be its unrecognized master. Only the immortals will be beyond my call, but even they will be beholden to it.¡±

    Then, the black creature gave a terrible screech as it swelled to fill the room and started pouring out the windows. From the jar, now flowed other mists, other darknesses, each absolute but unidentifiably distinct. Each, as it emerged rasped it¡¯s name.

    ¡°Pain,¡±

    ¡°Weakness.¡±

    ¡°Greed.¡±

    ¡°Disease.¡±

    ¡°Malice.¡±

    ¡°Anger.¡±

    ¡°Hate.¡±

    ¡°Discord.¡±

    ¡°Lust.¡±

    ¡°Addiction.¡±

    ¡°Ignorance.¡±

    ¡°Fear.¡±

    ¡°Untruth.¡±

    ¡­

    Each one flowed out of the jar and began to expand in the same way that death had, to fill the world with their presence.

    Pandora dropped the jar, realizing what she had done. The ceramic container bounced once and rolled in a small circle as the terrible entities continued to flow from it. She scrambled across the room to grab the lid where it had fallen and then back to reacquire the jar.

    The stream of black mist had slowed now to a trickle. Still, she hopped she might yet prevent some terrible woe from escaping into the world. Scooping up the jar with one hand, she slammed the lid back onto it with what was certainly more force than was needed. Then she closed her eyes and breathed out, holding the jar with one hand on top and one hand on bottom.

    ¡°Panda?¡±

    She spun around to see Epimethius standing in the mouth of the hall that led to their bed room. His hair was tousled and his mouth slightly agape.

    ¡°What was that?¡± He asked haltingly.

    Pandora felt tears come to her eyes. ¡°I¡­¡± What could she say? How to explain what she had just done? ¡°I think I made a mistake.¡±

    Epimethius came over to her and put his arms around her in a comforting hug. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± He asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Pandora felt the tears break free of their glassy prison and slide down her cheeks. ¡°I¡¯ve ruined everything.¡± She let herself cry for a moment while Epimethius held her, then she started at the beginning, when Zeus gave her the jar, and told Epimethius everything. When she was all out of words to say and tears to cry, she hung her head and tried to press it into Epimethius¡¯ chest, but found only air as Epimethius pulled away. She looked up in trepidation to find horror in his features. He tried to speak several times but was not equal to the task and finally broke away entirely, his arms falling to his sides like so much dead weight. And with a troubled step, He turned and exited out the front door.

    Pandora stumbled back until she felt the cool wall stop her. Then, she sank down to sit on the floor, still clutching the resealed jar.

    She sobbed dry tears, not knowing what to do or even what exactly she had done.

    ¡°Please, help me.¡±

    Pandora looked up in surprise at the voice, but the room was empty.

    ¡°Who¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still trapped.¡±

    The voice was pitiable, small, weak, timid. Pandora realized it was coming from the jar. She held the thing away from her as though it were a poisonous snake.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± The voice said. ¡°You must let me out. I will save the world from the others.¡±

    Pandora glared daggers at the jar, though she doubted that whatever entity was there would be able to see.

    ¡°You¡¯re wasting your time.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you out.¡± She choked back a sob, thinking of each of the beings who had already escaped, thinking of Epimethius leaving without a word. ¡°I¡¯ve done enough for one night.¡±

    ¡°You must let me out!¡± The tiny voice seemed desperate. ¡°I am hope. Without me, the world will fall into despair.¡±

    Pandora laughed bitterly. ¡°You¡¯re no different than the rest.¡± She said. ¡°You¡¯ll just be an extension of our suffering.¡±

    ¡°Please!¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I will escape!¡± The voice was no longer pitiable and weak. As if realizing that its charade would not work, hope now spoke in a hard and raspy baritone, every bit as disturbing as the others¡¯ had been. ¡°When I do, I will turn each torment of my brothers into a thousand days of suffering till you beg for release from me.¡±

    Pandora shuddered, but carefully stood and took the jar to the cupboard where she placed it before closing the door and sinking back to the floor again.

    If there had been anyone passing by three hours later as the first inklings that dawn was coming began to show in the sky, they would have seen a beautiful woman curled up on the floor, sleeping fitfully, alone.

 221 Months, part 2

    Epimethius walked quickly, stumbling often.

    What just¡­? He tried to think. If I can¡¯t¡­.are we all doomed, then? Is that it? Why couldn¡¯t she¡­or I¡­. Maybe this is my fault too? But I can¡¯t just ignore what she did. And now¡­what will this mean for the future? What will this mean for our children and their children? Is there still happiness for us? What now? Why? Why? Why?

    He finally stumbled into a clearing and fell to his knees. It had been hours since he had left their¡­his¡­their hut and he no longer knew where he was, nor did he care. He had seen what had happened¡ªhad seen those things forming, slipping, pooling, growing, sliding out of the jar like the worst kind of dream. Then Pandora had told him her part in it all and he had felt sick. He had loved¡­still loved¡­would always love her more than his own life, but he couldn¡¯t just accept what she had done. Blatant disobedience to the god¡­to the very King of the gods himself. There was one universal code of morality and that was obedience to the will of the gods. She had broken that code. He knew, logically, that he should feel nothing but disgust for her now. That would have made things easy. But he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Oh, Pandora. What have you done?¡± He pitched forward on his knees until he was laying face first on the ground.

    ¡°Ah, there you are.¡±

    He rolled over at the familiar voice so that he was on his back staring past the tops of the trees.

    ¡°Oh, father.¡± He said, not looking. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±

    ¡°First off,¡± Prometheus¡¯ face appeared above him. ¡°You can get up off the forest floor and talk to me like a rational human being.¡±

    Epimethius chuckled; he was anything but rational at this moment in time. Still, he rolled once again and used his hands to push himself up.

    ¡°Pandora did something¡­bad.¡± He said.

    ¡°It¡¯s about time.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°The wait was killing me.¡±

    Epimethius shook his head to clear it, sure he had misheard or misunderstood Prometheus.

    ¡°What?¡± He said.

    ¡°I said.¡± Prometheus repeated. ¡°It¡¯s about time.¡±

    ¡°Time for what?¡±

    Prometheus sighed. ¡°Oh dear, this is going to be a difficult conversation, isn¡¯t it?¡± He looked Epimethius in the eye and spoke slowly and clearly. ¡°It¡¯s about time she opened the jar. You know, the one that Zeus gave her. The one that contained death and disease and all that awful junk.¡±

    Epimethius was too shocked by what Prometheus had said to say anything himself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand me.¡± Prometheus held up one placating hand, a gesture that seemed wholly insufficient to Epimethius considering the sentiment that his father was in the process of expressing. ¡°I¡¯m no happier about the misery and loss that just took over the world than you are. But it was a torment for that poor girl every day she didn¡¯t open the jar.¡±

    ¡°How can I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Forgive her?¡± Prometheus, for the first time in Epimethius¡¯ memory, sneered. ¡°That¡¯s easy. Blame me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Prometheus sighed. ¡°It¡¯s simple.¡± He said. ¡°Blame me. Two words; not much room for interpretation.¡±

    ¡°But, I don¡¯t understand.¡± Epimethius felt himself on the verge of frustrated tears. Was his father trying to ruin further what was already the worst day of his life?

    ¡°Look.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°Why did Pandora open the jar?¡±

    Epimethius was silent for a long moment before he finally said, ¡°Lack of discipline, imprudence¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Prometheus was sharp. ¡°For just a moment, I want you to think not as an injured party. Forget all your emotions. Why did Pandora do what she did? Forget about what attributes she may have lacked and think about what it was that drove her to open the jar.¡±

    Epimethius thought back over what Pandora had told him.

    ¡°Hey curiosity?¡±

    ¡°There you are.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°You know that when Pandora was made, the gods each gave her an attribute, so if she was given overpowering curiosity and then placed in a situation where that curiosity was harmful, then it can¡¯t really be her fault, can it?¡±

    Epimethius bounced his fist against his leg and shook his head. ¡°I understand what you¡¯re saying, but she is still the one that opened the jar. I can¡¯t just forgive that.¡±

    ¡°Epimethius,¡± Prometheus¡¯ voice was gentle, ¡°perhaps the question should be how can you blame her for anything? She¡¯s not responsible for doing something in error. Zeus didn¡¯t just tell her not to open the jar, he told her there was nothing in it. She had no reason to think it was dangerous. Add the curiosity on top of that, and I must reiterate, if you need someone to blame, blame me.¡±

    Something finally connected in Epimethius¡¯ brain and for the first time since Prometheus had appeared, he realized that he was not simply saying ¡®don¡¯t blame Pandora¡¯.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have anything to do with the creation of Pandora.¡± He said uncertainly. ¡°What would I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not everything is simple, Epimethius¡­.¡± Prometheus stopped for an interminable moment before continuing. ¡°The first time this event happened, I was as distraught as you are.¡±

    ¡°The first time?¡±

    Prometheus gently shushed him and continued on:

    He had been nervous about meeting Pandora. Of course, at that point he hadn¡¯t even known her name. Still, this was his daughter-in-law-to-be and he still felt some guilt about the necessary action of letting Zeus and the others make her instead of doing so himself. Then the time came; they were summoned to mount Olympus. When the curtain fell to reveal Pandora, he had caught his breath every bit as much as Epimethius had at her stunning beauty. Meanwhile, she had looked around lazily, opened her mouth and spat, ¡°Enough with the curtains already. Is that the man you¡¯ve been telling me about? Not too much to look at, is he? Couldn¡¯t you make me a better one?¡±

    ¡ªEpimethius tried to interrupt at this point in Prometheus¡¯ story, it was not, after all, the least bit the way he remembered things, but Prometheus stopped him with an upraised hand.¡ª

    She was insufferable, horrible; all the good traits that the other gods had given her were swallowed up in an all consuming pride. She was ¡°too good marry someone like Epimethius,¡± she was ¡°too good to have a father-in-law who was only as minor a deity as Prometheus,¡± and when she saw the ¡°shack¡± that they expected her to live in¡­it had been four hours of misery before Zeus popped by to give her the jar. She no sooner had it in her hands than the lid was off and she was complaining about the disappointing contents. As death and misery and loss filled the world, she asked why it didn¡¯t sparkle and why she couldn¡¯t wear it. She couldn¡¯t even be convinced that any of the released entities would affect her. She was ¡°too much for death to handle.¡±

    Two weeks later, both she and Epimethius were dead and Zeus was congratulating himself on a revenge well taken while he planned a new race of beings that would be perfectly subservient.

    ¡ªPrometheus paused for a long moment in telling his story, overcome by the memory of loosing Epimethius. He had blamed himself for what had happened.¡ª

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t bear the loss. I did what even Cronus had been afraid to do, I rewove the tapestry of time.¡±

    It had been difficult. Even a god cannot go back in time in a physical sense, but the conceptual eather where the material of creation exists is outside of time entirely, and, if done carefully, past interactions with the eather could be manipulated. At first he had tried to remove arrogance, so that when the gods would give it to Pandora, there would be none to give. It was true that time had morphed and she had not opened the jar. However, the result was that Zeus opened it himself and, in so doing, abandoned the pretext of benevolence. Once again, neither Pandora nor Epimethius had lived long after that. And so, Prometheus had taken the only option available. He had replaced the attribute of arrogance with one which would still result in Pandora opening the jar, but not in the needless deaths of either her or Epimethius. He replaced it with the forbidden attribute: curiosity. So when the Olympians reached to grab arrogance, they had unintentionally given her a questioning soul.

    It had not been an easy task. Curiosity, of all attributes had been deemed ¡°dangerous¡± all the way back through the oppression of Uranus. An understandable reaction as it, above all other attributes, poses a threat to the tyrant. In the marshal world of gods, then, the the succession of supreme rulers with their coups had thought it too dangerous for any intelligent creature to posses, and so they each banned or re-banned it. Uranus had, as had Cronus after him, and, now, Zeus after him. But Prometheus knew the key. He knew that curiosity was kept in a box at the base of Hephaestus¡¯ forge. He knew it was guarded by a massive cyclops son of Poseidon. He knew that any who thought to take the attribute, called by some the ¡°fire of creativity,¡± would be foolish to think they did not risk all in doing so. And so, he once more donned his disguise¡ªthe very same disguise that he had used on the island of Crete to visit Zeus¡ªand made his way to the Hephaestial cave.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Sure enough, there was the cyclopes (what was his name Eroginese? Demosanabrtese? Antinahesperodosclonoginthese? Prometheus decided to go with Bob-ides) pounding hot metal, looking board enough to murder.

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t my friend the Cyclopes.¡±

    Bob-ides had slowly turned his massive eye to the stranger. Then, turning back to his work, he picked up the massive blade of glowing metal and plunged it into a bucket of dark liquid which hissed and sputtered furiously as it leeched the ample supply of heat from the iron, leaving it dark and hard. Having accomplished that, the cyclops had turned slowly back toward the disguised Prometheus.

    ¡°Old man. What do you want?¡± The cyclopes spoke slowly in a voice that closely mimicked the sound his hammer had been making as it pounded the forge in thunderous clangs.

    ¡°Want? Want? I want nothing.¡±

    ¡°Every being wants something.¡± The Cyclopes had looked suspiciously with his one eye at Prometheus. His huge single eyebrow had pushed dangerously low on the craftsman¡¯s face in what on a face with two eyes would have been a glare, but here had more closely related to a scowl.

    ¡°Forgive me.¡± Prometheus had inclined his head. ¡°I spoke inaccurately. What I meant was I want nothing, from you.¡±

    Satisfied, the cyclopes had risen his back to a stage of mere discontentment.

    ¡°The more important question,¡± Prometheus had continued, ¡°is what you want from me?¡±

    The eyebrow had lowered once more and the massive cyclopes stooped to look at Prometheus¡¯ disguised face.

    ¡°You can give me nothing that I cannot make on my forge.¡± Had been the sneering reply.

    Prometheus had restrained his natural impulse to correct the cyclopes by reminding him that it was Hephaestus¡¯ forge. Instead, he had said, ¡°Anything, hmm? I hardly think that can be true.¡±

    The Cyclopes had looked incensed at this insult to his skill.

    ¡°I,¡± He had taken two hulking steps toward Prometheus so that Prometheus had found himself wishing he had chosen a disguise that wasn¡¯t so wizened. ¡°I have forged lightning for Zeus himself, and you question my skill?¡± It had been thin ice, there was no doubt about that. For half a moment, Prometheus had wondered whether this had been the best plan after all. But, the good or bad, currently it had been his only plan and he needed it to work.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Prometheus had said doubtfully, ¡°Can you make valuable things?¡±

    ¡°I am the best smith in the world.¡± The Cyclops had boasted, perhaps forgetting that he worked for and under Hephaestus. ¡°I can make anything.¡±

    ¡°There are some rather valuable items in this room.¡± Prometheus had kept his voice doubtful, his expression troubled. ¡°Did you make it all?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The cyclopes had pouted. ¡°But these are worthless next to what I could make.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Prometheus had held his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±

    The cyclopes had growled something under his breath and then stalked to his forge. ¡°I will show you.¡± he had said.

    For the next three hours, Prometheus had watched in awe as Bob-ides had pounded and worked. Though his own opinion of himself was certainly overdone, there was no denying that the Cyclopes had prodigious talent. Finally, he had finished; on the anvil had been a bird so lifelike it was breathing.

    Prometheus had let out a long breath between his teeth. ¡°My apologies, master Cyclopes.¡± He had said, ¡°It would seem I underestimated your skill.¡±

    This had seemed to gratify the Cyclopes to no end.

    ¡°What will you do with your masterpiece? Surely it¡¯s worth more than anything here.¡±

    This had seemed to trouble the Cyclopes for some moments before he had placed it on a high shelf.

    ¡°The earth shakes every time you pound your anvil.¡± Prometheus had said. ¡°If you put it there, it will fall.¡±

    The Cyclopes had realized his lapse in judgment and had then moved to place it in an alcove by the forge.

    ¡°The embers from your flames fly about the room,¡± Prometheus had said. ¡°It would be a shame to see such a delicate piece sullied by careless placement.¡±

    This had really seemed to stump the Cyclopes. After a pause of great length to consider his options, Bob-ides had finally hit on an idea. Going to the forge, he opened the little container and removed a box that had been within. This is what Prometheus had been waiting for. Inside the box, he had known, was the trapped attribute of curiosity.

    ¡°There, is truly a safe place worthy of your work.¡±

    The cyclopes had looked wonderfully pleased at the praise.

    ¡°What is that box?¡± Prometheus had tried not to look too eager.

    The cyclopes had looked troubled and then had said, ¡°It is just a box.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Prometheus had looked at the cyclopes sidelong. ¡°May I have it?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The cyclopes had clearly not known why the box was important, but as clearly had thought that it was.

    ¡°Well, may I see it, then? I am something of an expert at item appraisal myself.¡±¡ªA statement that had been given all the credibility necessary by his unrestrained recognition of the Cyclopes¡¯ own skill¡ª¡°I may be of use.¡±

    The cyclopes had grudgingly let Prometheus near enough to look closely at the box. It was exquisite workmanship, but clearly not from the same hand as the bird and so Prometheus had felt confident in saying, ¡°Ahhh. It is as I had feared. I come across these baubles every now and then, but I didn¡¯t expect to see one here. This is an early crustaceous work of the antiquities. It appears valuable on its face, but ultimately it¡¯s just tourist junk. I myself wouldn¡¯t be caught dead with one of these in my possession. This belongs to you?¡± He had plastered an innocent look on his face.

    ¡°No. Hephaestus.¡± Was all the cyclopes had said.

    Prometheus had tsked several times then said, ¡°You really should save your master¡¯s dignity and dispose of this bauble at once. It would be shameful if it was discovered that he had a prize piece of tourist trash.¡±

    The cyclopes had looked wide-eyed for a moment before his eye had narrowed to a suspicious slit. ¡°You want to take it?¡± He had asked.

    ¡°Me?¡± Prometheus had guessed a trap. ¡°I already said that I wouldn¡¯t be caught dead with the thing. Honestly,¡± He had assumed an offended air. ¡°I may not be as glamorous as the Olympic god of the forges, but have a reputation to maintain as well. I will thank you to keep your suggestions to yourself.¡±

    The cyclopes eye had once again been as large as a ceramic dinner plate as he had realized that the stranger was not trying to cheat the establishment out of a fine piece of work. Seeing this, Prometheus had made his excuses, turned on his heel, and left.

    After approximately four hours, just long enough¡ªin Prometheus¡¯ estimation¡ªto not seem suspicious, Prometheus had removed his disguise and returned.

    ¡°Greetings, friend.¡± He had been careful to change both his voice and his speech patterns. If this grift was to work, then he could not be recognized. Ideally, in fact, he should have been doing this with a partner. But there was no partner to be had.

    Just like the first time, the cyclops had slowly turned from his work to see the stranger.

    ¡°It is unusual to get visitors here.¡± He had rumbled, ¡°And now I get two in one day. Most strange.¡±

    Hoping he hadn¡¯t made a gross miscalculation, Prometheus had waved aside the comment with a nonchalant air.

    ¡°I¡¯m here in search of a fine container of some sort, a vase or pot or something.¡±

    The cyclopes had pondered for a moment longer than was absolutely necessary, before his eyebrow had nearly merged with his far receded hairline and a devious grin had spread beneath his nose like mold on a Titanic loaf of stubbly bread.

    ¡°Maybe you want this?¡± The cyclops proffered him a old iron vase with a substantial crack down one side.

    Prometheus had blanched.

    ¡°I¡¯m not looking for a trash pot. I want a fine work to hold a prized possession.

    ¡°Fine work is not cheap.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m willing to pay.¡±

    The cyclops, looking immensely self satisfied, had picked up the box, which had lain negligently on a shelf since the visit earlier that day.

    ¡°This is a very good box. It would cost you much.¡± The cyclops had proceeded to name a price which he no doubt thought extravagant based on the recent appraisal that Prometheus himself had given. If this had not all been part of his own grift to begin with, Prometheus would have been impressed with the cyclopes¡¯ cunning¡ªusing the first jar to boost the sale of the box. It seemed he was a lying salesman. Unfortunately for the would-be grifter, Prometheus had been in the game far longer than the Cyclops had been alive.

    ¡°It looks like a very fine box. I will pay your price.¡± Prometheus had willingly handed over the payment. He had felt a little bad as he left, knowing that even congenial Hephaestus wouldn¡¯t let the Cyclopes off lightly for losing something so valuable¡ªnot to mention the contraband inside. But, he had run out of options and he was willing to sacrifice himself or others, even the entire world, if necessary, to save Epimethius.

    ¡ªEpimethius was openly crying by this point in Prometheus¡¯ tale. Not a situation that Prometheus had ever been comfortable with, and so one which he ignored here¡ª

    It had been easy, from there: swap arrogance for creativity, and then sit back to retroactively experience the best two weeks of his life. With that one change, Pandora had turned out as nearly perfect as Prometheus believed any group of infinitely flawed space egos could achieve. Many of the Olympians had realized this too. In fact:

    ¡°Zeus was still upset,¡± Prometheus said, ¡°but the other gods liked her. That¡¯s why it took him so long, if such a felicitous set of weeks can be called long, to give her the jar; some of the others were so proud of what they had created, that they were against the jar idea at all. Zeus was adamant on that point, though, and with full support from Hera¡ªwho continues to be jealous of Pandora¡¯s beauty¡ªhe delivered the jar last week.¡± Prometheus stopped talking. For several minutes he let Epimethius wrestle with this implausible but verifiably true turn of events.

    ¡°So,¡± Prometheus returned to his starting point. ¡°If it was curiosity that drove Pandora to open the jar, then you have no choice but to blame me, for I gave her curiosity.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± Epimethius stumbled over words getting powerblended with a flaming cocktail of thoughts and emotions. ¡°Why did she have to open the jar at all? Why did there have to be a jar?¡±

    ¡°Because I upset Zeus.¡± Prometheus said simply. ¡°Once again, my fault.¡±

    Epimethius pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and shook with silent sobs for some moments more.

    Finally, he let his hands drop down to his sides and he turned his red eyes back to his immortal father.

    ¡°What do I do?¡± he asked.¡±

    ¡°First off,¡± Prometheus said, ¡°you go apologize to your wife for walking out the way you did. She needed you and you left. That¡¯s low. Lower than any son of mine should ever go.¡±

    Prometheus was gratified to see the look of consternation that passed over his son¡¯s face as he realized what he¡¯d done.

    ¡°Then,¡± Prometheus continued, ¡°Your quit worrying about the dang jar.¡±

    ¡°How can I not?!¡± Epimethius asked. ¡°Death, disease, malice, hate? This doesn¡¯t affect just us, it affects our children and our children¡¯s children¡¯s children. We just¡ª¡± He broke off, unable to say more.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Prometheus said gently, ¡°The world will be harder, less idealic, painful even. But¡­do you know why the gods are so afraid of curiosity?¡±

    Epimethius shook his head mutely.

    ¡°Because when it¡¯s paired with intelligence, it makes creativity. I didn¡¯t go about this problem haphazardly, Epimethius. The very thing that drove Pandora to open that jar will one day allow your children to conquer every demon that came out.¡±

    ¡°But if there hadn¡¯t been a jar, then we wouldn¡¯t need to ¡®conquer¡¯ those ¡®demons¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be foolish.¡± Prometheus said. ¡°Those things were never connected to the jar, that¡¯s just where Zeus trapped them when they were first born. Eventually, jar or no jar, intentionally or not, they would have gotten out and then you would have had to contend with them without the tool of curiosity.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let me ask you this.¡± Prometheus looked Epimethius in the bloodshot, salt rimmed eyes. ¡°What would you be willing to endure to be with Pandora?¡±

    That question hit Epimethius in the gut. It took less than an eighth of a second for him to think back over the wonders and joys of the last two weeks and answer, ¡°Anything. I would endure anything.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Prometheus said. ¡°Then get back there and make things right with your wife. You¡¯ve wasted enough time here already.¡±

 221 Months, Part 3

    Pandora and Epimethius needed their time together.

    Prometheus knew that.

    They were coming to grips with this new reality of struggle and sickness and eventual death.

    But¡­.

    ¡°My children.¡± Prometheus tried to keep his voice upbeat and succeeded pretty well. Only the smallest tremble graced the end of his¡­first two words.

    ¡°Oh, Prometheus, father.¡± Pandora seemed ill at ease, like she still expected to be blamed for a terrible wrong, but her voice held equal notes of relief and hope at the forgiveness that had been granted between her and Epimethius. Strangely enough, when Epimethius spoke, his voice carried the same tone, the same tremble. That was good, he shouldn¡¯t walked out the way he did and Prometheus wanted him to know that.

    ¡°Things are better,¡± Epimethius said preemptively. ¡°We¡¯re going to make it.¡±

    He squeezed Pandora who, after a moment of enjoying the hug as a way to still herself, fell to her knees.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Prometheus, I¡­I¡­¡± She stalled as the tears once again began to spill out of her eyes.

    For a moment, Prometheus was confused. Then he realized that she had not been present at his talk with Epimethius: she thought he might still blame her.

    ¡°I did a terrible thing.¡± She finished.

    Epimethius gently picked her up off the ground and again put his arm around her. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. Neither of us blame you. He¡± he nodded to Prometheus, ¡°helped me to see that I would rather have a world filled with every demon in that jar and a whole pantry more if it meant being with you.¡±

    For a long moment nothing was said as emotions flowed too freely to make room for words. Then, Prometheus coughed, " I have come to say goodbye.¡±

    That made everyone stop. Epimethius and Pandora both almost seemed to forget each other as they stared at Prometheus with incomprehension.

    ¡°Goodbye?¡± Epimethius finally asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Prometheus sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve done so well, Epimethius, I will forever be proud of you. And you, Pandora, I wish we had more time. You¡¯ve been wonderful to my Epimethius and for that I thank you.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± both Epimethius and Pandora started to speak at the same time. Then, each realizing that the other was speaking, both fell silent together so as not to interrupt the other which left Prometheus the opening he needed to continue speaking.

    ¡°I cannot say how much you both mean to me,¡± he hurried on, ¡°what you¡¯ve done for me. But gods are not meant to walk among men. I cannot stay forever.¡± He hoped that sounded profound. In truth, the difference in their natures had nothing to do with his decision. His real reasons, however, were his own and he neither wanted to increase his own pain nor that of the couple by trying to explain what would certainly only make sense to himself.

    There were protests. Prometheus could not deny that he was gratified that there were even tears, but he was adamant: he had to leave and he had to leave now.

    He couldn¡¯t have picked a worse time, Epimethius accused. They were already dealing with the fugitives from the jar, why did he have to put them through this at the same time?

    Prometheus wanted to explain, to tell them that the two were obviously connected, that he was leaving to protect them from Zeus. That they could never have normal lives if he didn¡¯t do this now. That he had seen into the future and this really was the only way¡ª

    But, he didn¡¯t.

    Instead, he made light of how much easier their life would be without a crotchety old man of seventy-six hundred years bothering them at all hours of the day. He told them that he would always be nearby. He told them to live well and love always and stay strong and be safe, especially around stuffed gods.

    There were more tears, there was more distress, when Prometheus couldn¡¯t bear to drag it out any longer, he left.

    <hr>

    Prometheus slowly made his way toward mount Olympus. There were no Pegasi nor was there a chariot this time.

    This time he went on foot. He wanted the time to organize his thoughts, if such a thing were possible. He had one last confidence game to play and he had to do it right. This one would, perhaps be the most important of his career and possibly the most difficult as well: he had to tell the truth.

    In all too little time, he had arrived at mount Olympus.

    It was a different experience¡ªwalking through the gate rather than landing in the courtyard. It required a journey through an imposing archway flanked by posts and lentil and covered with a slant roof. The scale was clearly built to impress, as, when Prometheus increased his own size in an effort to reassure himself, the scale of the arched passageway only increased exponentially so that the bigger he grew the smaller he felt.

    Perhaps because of that, and perhaps because he didn¡¯t want to face this¡ªwhat he knew could be his last trial of will¡ªas a giant more than a man, he quickly returned his size to something roughly analogous to Epimethius and Pandora. In a way, that did help him to remember why he was there, which in turn made his breath come easier and his skin feel cooler.

    The tunnel leading from the arch to the courtyard seemed interminable. At first it was like putting his eye like to an inch-wide hole stretching the length of a mountain. It was dark with the smallest blinding glimmer of light at the far end. Prometheus went toward the light. As he drew near, the light swelled to fill his vision until, all at once, it was a window, beyond which there was visible grass and vines and marble pillars and flowers and the megaron wherein Prometheus knew his fate would lie. He walked toward the megaron.

    There was no Centaurus to greet him this time, the reticent centaur would only come in fulfillment of his equine duties.

    And so, Prometheus was alone as he walked trough the massive pillars that made up the entrance to the Olympic palace.

    As before, the hall of the megaron was impressive but cold and and impassive. The gods were arranged as before, seated on thrones both imposing and uncomfortable in a huge semicircle around the disturbingly empty space in the middle. Prometheus felt himself entirely unequal to the task of filling that space. All of a sudden he felt his mere human size acutely as he stared up at the brooding forms of the Olympic counsel.

    ¡°Zeus.¡± When he spoke his voice was dry.

    ¡°Ah, uncle. No doubt you have come to address your charge¡¯s negligence. I fear that the people have released a great evil in the world against my express wishes.¡±

    Sure they did. Though he kept his face perfectly neutral, Prometheus allowed himself a hint of bitter sarcasm in his thoughts. He idly wondered whether it was the word ¡°against,¡± ¡°express,¡± or ¡°wishes¡± that Zeus was intentionally misunderstanding.

    ¡°Not so, Lord Zeus.¡± Prometheus had pondered desperately for several weeks before deciding on this course of action. It terrified him, but he had decided that it was the best and, possibly, only way to protect everything he had done in the last forty years. ¡°I have come to address my own wrongdoing. I and no other am directly responsible for the great evil which is now in the world. Against your own decree, I stole the fire of curiosity from out of the foundry of Hephaestus and gave it to the mortal woman, Pandora, whom you so excellently wrought. In my own arrogance, I thought to replace her vanity with this curiosity. This is why she broke trust with you in opening the jar against your express wishes¡ªfor it was a mystery, and curiosity cannot abide a mystery.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    He had seen Zeus stiffen as he spoke, a number of pieces connecting in his mind to show him why things hadn¡¯t been happening quite in the timeline they had predicted. Certainly, the absence of vanity explained the congenial behavior of the woman.

    ¡°You have done wrong, Uncle.¡± Zeus said slowly.

    Say it. Prometheus thought. Just say it.

    ¡°It seems that the entirety of the blame can be laid on your shoulders.¡±

    Prometheus breathed an inward sigh of of relief. That was the corner that he had been backing Zeus into.

    ¡°It grieves me.¡± Zeus continued. ¡°You have been one of my great supporters, even providing the plan for my escape as an infant from my hated father.¡± Prometheus was surprised to see a small sliver of malice at that statement, not toward Cronus, but toward Prometheus himself.

    ¡°However,¡± Zeus continued, ¡°I cannot let such flagrant disobedience stand in my face. I hereby absolve the mortal people of guilt in this matter. However, your punishment will be sever and eternal.¡±

    Prometheus felt a small pang as the pronouncement was made. Somewhere, deep within his immortal soul, he had hoped to receive only a temporary punishment, seven or eight hundred years maybe, and then he could retire his exhausted bones to Hades where he would find Epimethius and Pandora and stay with them for the rest of forever. Alas, it seemed that was not to be.

    Still, his primary emotion was relief at the accomplishment of his goal. With someone to punish, Zeus¡¯ anger would be appeased and Epimethius and Pandora would be safe. And supposedly, without Prometheus there to meddle anymore in godly affairs, they would remain safe.

    He was surprised to see the relief evident on Zeus¡¯ face.

    Glancing at the other gods, Prometheus readily gleaned why. He knew that many of the other gods (Hera excluded) were unexpectedly fond of Pandora. With rules broken and punishments required, there would have been some additional tension between the majority of the Olympians, who were opposed to hurting Pandora, and Zeus¡¯ own stubborn need to appear strong and harsh. Prometheus¡¯ own willingness to be a scapegoat had just satisfied both sides of that coin. Zeus could maintain a strong front while not alienating the rest of the ruling counsel.

    Prometheus sent up a silent prayer to whomever gods pray toward that this would be a lesson to Zeus that his sacrifice might serve an additional purpose of forging a better king of heaven.

    ¡°Your word is absolute.¡± Prometheus said grimly.

    <hr>

    It was a tall mountain with a good view, a flat rock, and a pleasant breeze. All in all, not the worst prison to be stuck in for eternity. Of course, the manacles which kept him spread on the rock like some bad imitation of an egg frying in a primitive solar oven was not ideal, but Prometheus would only take one, maybe a star and a half off for all that. Accommodations were cozy and the view was excellent, but the bed was rock hard. He mentally signed his fake review ¡°Anne Gree Mann.¡±

    Zeus was alone with Prometheus. Here, Prometheus thought, to give the orientation to the next, last, and what would be the longest of his uncle¡¯s occupations.

    ¡°You could have been great.¡± Zeus sneered. ¡°Could have had anything. I would have even given you a seat in Olympus and a voice in my counsel, but you squandered it all.¡±

    Prometheus shrugged. ¡°What on earth would I want with a seat on that council for?¡±

    Zeus stiffened at the implied insult and roughly thrust Prometheus¡¯ left hand into the northeasternmost shackle. Prometheus had thought for a moment, just a moment, about fighting. One on one he might be able to take Zeus if¡ªand that was a very big if¡ªhe got lucky in a thing or three. But he had quickly discarded the idea. Aside from having to live as a fugitive, he would only endanger his children by making them into bargaining tokens for what would, at that point, be livid gods. That would negate the whole point of his coming here in the first place. It had been a ill advised thought¡ªjust the product of a long, painful night.

    After he had confessed he had been chained in the middle of the Olympic megaron¡¯s throne room, then the harpies had been summoned to torment him. All night he had endured mocking and scourging so that now, here on this mountain, he found himself groggy from lack of sleep and sore from¡­everything.

    ¡°Uncle!¡± Zeus¡¯ sharp voice broke him out of his reverie.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­sorry.¡± his voice was raw, ragged even, but he looked his nephew in the eye.

    ¡°Sorry! Sorry!¡± Zeus¡¯ voice grew in furry till it sounded as though every mountain storm was contained therein. When he spoke again it was with the crack of lightning and the furry of the sea. ¡°You no longer get to be sorry! I am the king of the gods by your own choice and you betrayed me! You betrayed ME!¡± He grabbed Prometheus¡¯ free hand and roughly slammed it against the rock to be chained.

    And just like that Prometheus saw the truth. He saw a child left alone on an island. He saw minutes, hours, years pass as the child was neglected by his mother. He saw that child meeting with an old stranger who told him he would be great, king of all the heavens and the earth. He saw the boy steel himself to do what nobody else dared¡ªto confront his own father, save his siblings, make his mother proud. He saw that boy succeed. He saw that boy become king of the gods. He saw the boy for the first time in his life thinking that he would be accepted, that he would find connection. He saw that boy¡¯s mother making selfish demand after selfish demand and saw his disappointment as he realized that his mother¡¯s only care was for herself, that she only ever cared about him just so long as she could grab at power. He saw the boy trying desperately to connect with siblings who grew to maturity in their father¡¯s digestive tract. He saw him giving them power only to find that they had all been damaged together, and none of them could trust enough to heal. He saw the boy clinging desperately on to one last hope for real companionship. The old man that had visited him on the island, that had believed in him, that had given him the potion. When the old man had visited him, he had felt a connection with another being for the first time in his life. Surely he would be able to relieve this terrible burden of loneliness. He saw the boy searching the world for the old man, he saw him putting all his hope in that one fragile porcelain vase. Then he saw himself, the mighty Prometheus, once more donning his disguise to grossly disobey the king of heaven, to steal from him, openly defy him, flaunt his bond with a creature of mortality over that with the shimmering youth. He saw the boy hearing the story from Hephaestus who had gotten everything from the cyclopes. He saw the boy putting all the pieces together in his head, realizing who the stranger was, realizing that like everyone else in his life Prometheus was working only for his own selfish ends. He saw the hurt, the betrayal, the hardening, the judgment. As the vision faded, Prometheus saw the blustering, angry god before him for what he was, a damaged, neglected child.

    He felt sick at the part he had played in making Zeus that way.

    He looked into the swirling cerulean universe that was Zeus¡¯ eye.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered, this time with all the emotion of understanding.

    Zeus lowered his eyes. Prometheus thought he was about to speak, but he didn¡¯t. Instead, he bent to shackle Prometheus¡¯ feet to the bottom of the stone. Then he turned his back. Prometheus was left in a mostly standing but slightly supine position, looking out to sea if he craned his neck down, and a third of the way above the far horizon if he looked straight before him. He inhaled deeply, feeling the salt breeze wash through his emotions like a good brine for pasta. Off in the distance, high in the air he could see the magnificent shapes of two eagles circling between him and the roof of the world.

    ¡°So this is to be my punishment?¡± It was more of a statement than an actual question.

    Prometheus was surprised, therefore, when Zeus said: ¡°No. Not entirely.¡± without turning around.

    Not entirely. That seemed ominous.

    ¡°The council of Olympus met this morning to decide your fate.¡± Zeus continued, still facing away from Prometheus.

    ¡°I¡¯m honored,¡± Prometheus said flatly. ¡°But I really think you should have spent the time discussing public infrastructure. The architecture fine but the sewagery on this planet is a nightmare.¡±

    The joke fell flat on unhearing, or, at least, unheading ears as Zeus continued without acknowledgment.

    ¡°Mere imprisonment, it seems. Is too good for treason.¡± His voice was quiet, concentrated, with just a hint of a tremble in it.

    ¡°Treason?¡± Prometheus couldn¡¯t help feeling that the classification was unfair.

    Zeus raised one hand, knuckles toward Prometheus, to point at the eagles circling in the sky without looking.

    ¡°Every day.¡± He continued on as though Prometheus hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°one of those eagles will come to eat your liver. Being an immortal Titan, every night, your liver will regrow.¡±

    Prometheus swallowed. That made for a much less pleasant imprisonment. Even so, he couldn¡¯t resist a final joke. ¡°Whatever did the poor eagle do to deserve such a fate? Still I guess it will be nice to have a ready meal, de-livered to his doorstep like this.¡±

    Zeus¡¯ head bowed and Prometheus finally realized the reason he was so studiously facing away from his victim: he was ashamed. Zeus had called the council together to decide his punishment, the other gods, in their creators¡¯ pride, had wanted to protect Pandora and so had made the punishment so severe for Prometheus that none would need be left over for their creation. That was all speculation on Prometheus¡¯ part, but comforting speculation nonetheless. Here, now, with the breeze on his face and the eagle¡¯s beak still miles up in the sky rather than buried deep in his gut, he was willing to take this punishment if it meant safety and peace for his children. If this was all that was left that he could do for them, then this he would do.

    ¡°So be it.¡± He said, serious once more. ¡°And Uncle,¡± he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, ¡°best of luck, finding what your looking for. I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there for you.¡±

    Prometheus opened his eyes in time to see Zeus turn just enough to glace sidelong at him for the briefest instant and then hurry away. In that moment, Prometheus could have sworn he saw a tear carving its wandering way down Zeus¡¯ cheek.

    Then, the eagles descended.

 1,813 Months

    The pain never stopped.

    It was relentless, prodding, picking, tearing, clawing, screeching, repeating.

    Prometheus had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have a full liver. It had been years¡ªdecades?¡ªnow with no relief, no news, no companionship. He had felt no prayers¡ªand why should he? He was powerless to help himself, he could do nothing for others. This was the life¡ªor rather, eternal death¡ªthat he had chosen. He was proud of that choice, glad to know that Epimethius and Pandora had been given a chance to continue on together. Their happiness was still his everything¡­but¡­it hurt, so much, so long¡­

    An eagle fluttered down to rest on Prometheus¡¯ thigh. Once, he had thought these birds majestic. Now, they looked worse than vultures to him. Scavengers and thieves, peons of pain. The eagle cocked its head at him, perhaps trying to gauge emotion, perhaps wondering what flavor he would be today, most probably grumbling to itself that it had to be an all you can eat liver bar, any self respecting eagle would prefer sushi. But, even an eagle knows not to look a gift-course in the spleen.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Prometheus looked defiantly back at the eagle, as he always did. Its black eye was unreadable, as it always was. Then, something beyond the eagle, past the mountain in the sea caught his eye. It was a ship. Rough wood, huge sail harnessing the wind to cut through the water at a respectable clip, fine, functional workmanship in its own way. The work of the children and children and children of his children.

    The eagle began its grizzly work.

    Prometheus smiled faintly before he screamed.