A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

“You’ve been hanging around with mortals too long, Lucky. A hundred years is a blink of an eye. But the world of mortals changes faster than ever. It’s not so easy for a god to lay low anymore. How did Teri and Phil find you?”

“Internet,” said Lucky.

“The information age,” said Quick. “If he wants to find you, all he has to do is click a few buttons.”

“He doesn’t operate that way. I doubt he even knows what a computer is. He never could adapt. Stupid bastard got left behind in the Middle Ages. Did I ever tell you that during our last civil conversation, he predicted the longbow was just a fad.”

They chuckled.

“I’m not saying he’s the smartest god,” said Quick, “but you have to admit he’s persistent. And he knows how to hold a grudge. And he may not have adapted to the new world, but that just means he’s more dangerous.”

“No, it just means that he’s faded into obscurity. Most of his power disappeared with the last of the Philistines.”

Quick said, “Just because he went underground, that doesn’t mean he disappeared. Or that there aren’t plenty of mortals out there willing to follow him.”

“Mortal losers,” mumbled Lucky, “following a loser god. Do you know that he’s still using transfigured souls as personal agents? Who does that anymore?”

“How do you know that?”

Lucky gritted his teeth.

“I might have run into one.”

Quick turned off the television.

“No shit?”

“Just one,” added Lucky hastily. “It wasn’t even a big one. And I smote it. End of story.”

“They deserve to know. For their own safety.”

“They’re not in any danger. Anyway, aren’t mortals supposed to die in service of their god? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work?”

Quick squinted hard at Lucky.

“Don’t blame me.” Lucky picked up a magazine and pretended to read it. “Blame the system.”

The serpent god drained the last of his tomato juice and slithered into the kitchen to refill it. Lucky thumbed through the magazine until Quick returned. He turned on the television, and neither of them said anything until the show ended.

“I used to think like you,” said Quick. “I used to think mortals were disposable commodities, to be used and discarded at my whim. You lose a couple, you gain a couple. What did one or a hundred or even a thousand here or there really mean in the end?”

“Hey now,” said Lucky. “I’m not advocating strapping anyone onto an altar and cutting out their still-beating heart.”

Quick shot him a dirty look. “That’s not fair. That was a different time.”

Lucky shrugged. “I’m just making the observation. That’s all.”

“I never asked them to do that,” said Quick. “They just started doing it on their own.”

“You didn’t stop them, though, did you?”

“No, I didn’t stop them. I should’ve, but I didn’t.”

Lucky tossed aside the magazine. “Aw, crap, Quick. I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot.”

“No, you’re right. I wanted the blood. I didn’t ask for it, but when they offered it, I didn’t complain.”

“Different time. Like you said.”

“Did you ever wonder how a handful of conquistadors managed to topple an empire? How I let that happen?”

“You always said you were on vacation when that business went down. By the time you came back, it was already over.”

“Come on now. What kind of god would I be if I didn’t check in on my followers now and then?” Quick blew a raspberry. “That story was bull, and you always knew it. Everyone always knew it. We just play along because if there’s one thing we gods excel at it’s avoiding responsibility.”

Lucky said, “Mortals kill each other. It’s not our job to solve all their problems.”

“Bullshit!” roared Quick. A clap of thunder shook the house. His glass of tomato juice spilled across the carpet, and the sofa fell over, sending Lucky sprawling.

Quick transformed into his human shape. He stood twelve feet tall and had to hunch under the ceiling. Symbols in fresh blood were painted on his flesh. In one hand, he held an onyx spear. In the other, he dangled a collection of skulls. He bared his pointed teeth and glared with bloodshot, raging eyes.

“Take it easy, buddy,” said Lucky.

Quick glowered. “I saw it happening. I knew what was going on.” He lowered his head and wiped a tear from his cheek. “I watched them die.

“They prayed for my intervention. But I thought, screw’em. Not my problem. If they couldn’t take care of a handful of Spaniards with blunderbusses then why the hell should I bother? Let the weaker followers perish so that the stronger should thrive. And if I lost them all, so what? I’d just start again. There were always more mortals, more followers. So I stood by and did nothing. Nada. I just let them die. They offered rivers of blood in tribute that I gladly accepted, but when it came time to do my part, I just walked away.”

Quick shrank into human proportions, and helped Lucky right the sofa.

“But you want to know the worst part about it?” asked Quick. “The worst part is that after it was all over, I still didn’t care. Do you want to know when I started caring?”

“No,” said Lucky.

“It was about fifteen years later. I had a handful of followers, but nothing to get excited about. I couldn’t figure it out. Here I was, the grand and revered Quetzalcoatl, and I was mostly forgotten. A few hundred thousand dead mortals didn’t mean much to me, but they sure as hell made an impression on any potential followers. Guess they decided that if ol’ Quick wasn’t powerful enough to save an empire, they’d be better off looking for divine intervention somewhere else. And damned if I didn’t agree after I had a century to think about it.”

He transformed into his slouching serpent form.

“By then it was too late, of course. I’d blown my reputation. I’d lost all credibility. End of story. Game over.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Quick. You’ll get back on your feet… er, tail.”

“No, I’m finished. Just an old used-up god, a remnant from a different era, more of a novelty than a deity. Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Lucky.”

Quick sighed and ran his tail around the tomato juice stain. “Teri is not going to be happy about that.”

“I’ll tell her I did it,” said Lucky. “It’ll be easier for her to take.”

“Thanks.”

Lucky slapped Quick on the shoulder. “I get what you’re saying about Phil and Teri.”

“So you’re going to tell them?”

“I’ll let them know. When the time is right.”

Quick shot Lucky a glare.

“I need some time to show them the benefits of my company. You can’t expect me to spring this other teeny little mostly unimportant detail on them out of nowhere, can you?”

“No, I guess not,” agreed Quick. “But you should tell them. And tell them soon.”

“Oh, absolutely. Next week or the week after that. A month at the very most. In the meantime, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

With a sigh, Quick slipped off the sofa and slithered away.

Phil stopped at a convenience store to buy a lottery ticket on the way to work. He didn’t normally waste his money but decided it wouldn’t hurt to check the benefits of his new god. He figured that a lottery ticket was a good test for a minor prosperity god, and Phil wasn’t taking anything on faith.

He won twenty bucks.

In the interest of science, he bought another five tickets. Three of them were winners, and one broke even. He ended up with an extra hundred dollars. Under ordinary circumstances, he would’ve walked away, but he continued the experiment. He spent the winnings on tickets. Some won. Some lost. And he ended up maxing out at the hundred-dollar threshold.