A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

“He wanted to move in?”

“He says it’s part of his personal touch,” said Teri.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” Teri added more napkins to her improvised dam on the table. “I keep going back and forth on this.”

“You really need to make up your mind,” said Janet.

“I know.”

“And if you ask me, you already made up your mind when you signed up, right? Too late to back out now.”

“I guess you’re right. But I circulated a petition to keep a temple of Athena off my college campus. I marched for the Deity Restriction Act. Hell, my generation was going to change things. We were going to break the chains of thousands of years of divine codependence.”

“Hate to break it to you, but that movement died a long time ago.”

“I know.” Teri sighed. “Did you know that according to the latest polls active tribute has risen by 20 percent in the last ten years?”

“Can’t say that I did,” Janet replied.

Teri set down her soggy sandwich. Her appetite was gone. “You don’t think I’m compromising my ideals?”

“Oh, you’re selling out, all right. If it makes you feel any better, I thought about getting some of that divine favor once myself. I even answered an ad in a newspaper.”

“How’d that work out?” asked Teri with mild interest.

“Didn’t. Turns out that AFG stands for African fertility goddess. Said she could guarantee me fifty kids.” Janet shuddered. “I like rugrats, but not that much.”

Teri lost her appetite.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Janet. “You’re compromising your principles a little. That’s just the way it works. This is real life, after all. It’s great to be a college kid with ideals, but you have to live, right?”

“Yes.” Teri sounded unconvinced.

“It’s not like you chose a big god, is it? It’s not like you’re sacrificing bulls or giving up eating dairy or anything weird like that, right?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“He just wants to live with you. So let him live with you. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Now you sound like Phil.”

“You should listen to us then,” said Janet. “Anyway, you can follow without putting your heart into it. Most gods don’t care that much. They just want a little brownnosing, and they’re happy.”

Teri said, “You’re suggesting I follow half-assed.”

“Why not? Just treat it like a job you don’t care that much about. Keep your head down, do the minimum, and don’t worry too much about it. Your god will probably move out in a few weeks. Then you won’t have to do much more than maintain an altar. How hard can that be?”

Teri perked up. “Do you really think he’ll want to move out that soon?”

“I’d bet on it. You know gods. They get bored pretty fast. And I’ve seen you and Phil, hon. You aren’t exactly the most exciting couple. In a week or two, three tops, your raccoon god will be climbing the walls.”

Teri had never been so happy to be labeled boring. Her appetite returned. She was able to finish off half of her soggy sandwich. After her lunch with Janet, Teri felt better, even though bad luck continued to plague her. But she’d brought it on herself. And the fact that Lucky didn’t crack open the earth and throw her into eternal hellfire showed that he wasn’t such a bad god. She could weather the storm of misfortune until Phil fixed the problem.

She was relieved when his call finally came. Lucky did all of the talking. He was so busy selling himself that it was three minutes before she was finally able to find an opening to say yes.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight then. We’ll hang out, get to know each other. It’ll be fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will be.”

“Terrific. See you then.”

As soon as Lucky hung up, she felt relieved. She looked terrible, and there was no time to find her notes. With each step to the meeting, her confidence grew. Now she had a fighting chance. She pushed her way into the conference room.

It was empty.

Janet tapped Teri on the shoulder. “Rescheduled. Didn’t you get the e-mail?”

“My computer has been having problems,” said Teri.

“That’s a bit of good luck then, isn’t it?” Janet smoothed Teri’s wrinkled collar, and it stayed in place. “I take it then that your god problem is worked out.”

Teri nodded.

“Cool,” said Janet. “So when do I get a chance to meet him?”

“You want to meet him?”

“Are you kidding? You know I love gods.”

“First of all,” said Teri, “I didn’t know that. You never even brought up the subject until I mentioned Phil and I were talking about it.”

“I don’t advertise it, but I’m a huge deiphile.”

“I hear they have pills for that now.”

“You’re a riot.” Janet mimed a laugh. “So can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“If you’re so into gods, why don’t you have one of your own?”

“I decided years ago that I was a fan, not a follower,” said Janet. “So can I meet him?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on. You can tell him I’m a potential convert.” Janet said, “You’ll score some good little follower kudos. I’ll get another signature for my autograph book.”

“You have an autograph book?” asked Teri.

“I have two. And a photo album. And I haven’t added anything to either since I saw Tekkeitsertok.”

“Tekkeitser-”

“Inuit god of hunting, master of caribou. Met him at a charity event. Real nice god. So what do you say? You can’t turn me away, can you? I’ve never met a raccoon god before. It’ll be fun, and it’ll take some of the awkwardness off of your first night with him. Let me be your wingwoman.”

It was plain that Janet wasn’t going to drop this. She’d keep bugging Teri until she agreed. Better to get it out of the way. And it would be good to have someone there who was actually excited to meet a god.

“You can come,” she said. “But don’t wear anything too slutty. I don’t need my new god thinking I’m hanging with a loose crowd.”

“Whatever you say, but trust me, there’s no such thing as too slutty when it comes to dressing for gods. I had a ten-minute conversation with Moritasgus and he didn’t once look me in the eyes.”

“Morita-”

“Celtic sun god.”

“Like Apollo?” asked Teri.

“There’s a lot of overlap among the gods,” said Janet. “FYI: it’s a sore spot with some of them actually so it’s usually smarter not to bring it up.”

“You are a groupie,” said Teri.

“Hon, you have no idea.” Janet lowered her voice to a guilty whisper. “I didn’t even mention the scrapbooks.”

Civilization had taken the bite out of the divine powers, regulated and tamed them aside their mortal followers. The heavens could offer a boost, but they no longer built empires or razed continents. The good ol’ days of sacking and pillaging a village and offering up the souls to your god were gone. Roger Worthington suspected he would be lousy at sacking and only a modestly talented pillager at best so he didn’t mind. But he also knew that, aside from being somewhat handsome (emphasis on the somewhat), he wasn’t exceptional in any way, and if he was going to get ahead, he’d have to offer blood, sweat, and sacrifice to do it.

If it didn’t have to be his, so much the better.

There were still real gods out there, untamed powers that both mortal and immortal authorities wanted forgotten. They’d been forced underground, worshipped by secret cults in hidden temples tucked in darkened corners. Their influence had faded, but they still knew how to get things done. And they didn’t care where their blood came from.