SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Zeus had never liked the Court of the Gods.

He wound his way through halls that led upstairs to go downstairs and halls that looped in onthemselves to go upside down until he found the Justice Wing. And after about eighteen hours of waiting in line, during which he frequently returned to deep breathing and repeating gratitudes (it would not be beneficial to shoot lightning in here), he made his slow way toward the desk. When he saw the deity behind it, he stifled a groan. The God of Bureaucracy itself, whose name was a long acronym that he’d never bothered to learn, stiffened itself up and gave a forced smile.

The God of Bureaucracy, whom Zeus secretly thought of as Gob, was also the product of a committee. Unlike most gods it had no specified gender identity, for the committee was unable to decide on one. It had one of those faces that you would immediately forget upon looking away—something bland and generic, and yet entirely unappealing. Its paper-white skin always looked smudged with black and red ink.

“Welcome-to-the-Court-of-the-Gods-how-may-I-help-you?” Gob said in a bored monotone.

Zeus had a newfound irritation for my-name-is-Grace. “I’d like to file a complaint against Tekhno. And also a restraining order against him. And sue for damages. And also…um…all the other things I can do to keep him away.”

Gob was simultaneously stamping, marking, and stapling papers, which it filed in different compartments under its desk. “And what is the nature of your complaint?” it droned.

“He wrecked my house.”

Gob reached underneath the desk and brought out a thick stack of papers. “Fill these out. Don’t forget to add in whether you live in a castle, mansion, tree house, submerged vehicle, spider web, volcano, recreational vehicle, etc. on pages one through three. Detail the nature of the wreckage, including approximate psychic value on all items destroyed and approximate impairment value of all items that were damaged, on pages four through twelve. The nature of your relationship with the subject goes on pages thirteen through twenty nine, and the specifics of your encounter go on pages thirty through fifty three.”

Zeus thumbed through the stack of papers. There were at least two hundred pages. “And the rest?”

“You fill it out in quadruplicate, and then the last copy is for you to keep for your records. Next ,” it barked towards the line of gods in its same nasally tone. Gob’s hands hadn’t stopped moving as it talked. It alternated between stamps that said “DENIED,” “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” and “ESCALATED,” thumping each one on a never-ending parade of paper forms.

“Wait, waitaminute. I’m not done. Is this really all necessary to file a complaint?”

“Necessary, but not sufficient. When you’re done with these forms, go to the undercorridor of the Justice Wing and give them to filing. They’ll give you the filing forms, and the notification forms, and the scribing documents—”

“Are you kidding me with all this? Is there nothing simpler I could do? Perhaps just this once?” Zeus flashed his most winning smile. Maybe Gob could be charmed?

The deity’s stoic expression remained unchanged. Nope, not an effective strategy. “Sir, for the goals you have stated you must go through the proper procedures. No exceptions. Next! ”

“Wait wait wait!” Zeus planted his hands on the desk, and looked over his shoulder to give a warning look to the goddess standing behind him in line, who’d begun to inch forwards hopefully. “What would be the quickest thing I could do if I wanted to get another god off my back?”

Gob rolled its white eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “If you want to be uncivilized about it, you can just challenge them to a duel. Winner gets to determine what the loser has to do. But that’s merely left over from an archaic law in the books. We’ve evolved far past such barbarities. I would strongly suggest that instead, you—”

“Duel. Got it.” Zeus felt more energized than he had in years. “Right. How do I do that?” In the old days, he’d just done what he felt like. But, fresh start. He’d follow the rules.

Gob pursed its stained lips. “Go to neutral ground and yell out your challenge. But I must strongly suggest you take a more…official route.”

Zeus took one last look at the papers that sat piled on Gob’s desk. “Nah, I’m good.”

*

The Court of the Gods had several outdoor courtyards, each of a different climate and foliage (or lack thereof). Technically the court was neutral territory, so this should be as good a place as any. Zeus planted himself in the middle of a Mediterranean-looking courtyard. A long rectangle of grass was dotted with occasional marble benches and surrounded by cypress and eucalyptus trees. He inhaled deeply—it smelled like home. But this was not the time.

“Tekhno! I challenge you!” he roared at the top of his lungs. The grass flattened and the trees snapped backward before they sprang up again. It had been years since he’d gotten in a really good roar.

Within seconds, Tekhno, a goddess in a toga, and an enormous crowd appeared. Not just any goddess—it was Themis. SHIT.

She stepped forward. “A challenge has been issued! As the justice deity on shift, I will be the judge and referee. Tekhno, as the challenged, you may choose the field of battle.”

Tekhno looked smug. His lips twitched into a sneer as he said, “Old man, you really think this is a good idea? I’ll tell you what—I’ll even give you a chance to take it back.” Electronics glittered and blinked up and down the god’s skinny body in ever-changing patterns, held together by very neat lines of wires. No tangles here.

Zeus narrowed his eyes. “I should offer you the same.”

“Very well, it’s your funeral.” What a self-satisfied asshole. “For our battlefield, I choose… the internet. ”

The what now? Oh wait, Esther from the retirement complex had mentioned that at one point. She’d been using it to keep in touch with her grandkids. She said they sent her pictures. How was that a battlefield?

“In fact,” Tekhno continued, turning to the audience with a grandiose gesture, “I’ll even give the old man an hour in advance, to get to know the field. Because I’m all magnanimous and shit.”

Themis nodded, and raised her arms. The Mediterranean courtyard transformed with a whoosh. A laminate floor pushed aside the grass, low gray cloth-covered walls sprouted from below, two marble benches morphed into two wood desks, and two more benches shifted into office chairs. A laptop appeared on each desk, cables coiling down towards outlets and ports on the walls.

“After you.” Tekhno gestured with an evil grin. Zeus took in the audience, who was still looking on in eager anticipation. Who in the hells were all these people? He recognized a few deities within the ranks. Didn’t matter. He was Zeus, once king of the gods. He could take this little pipsqueak in whatever shit he tried to pull. He sat down in one of the office chairs. It squeaked, and Tekhnosmirked.

“Tekhno has given Zeus one hour’s head start. The battlefield is the internet. As the judge, I decree that the winner is determined by the perception of the internet denizens: the god who they like most at the end is the winner. As there is no way to get the entire internet to agree on anything, a reasonable majority, as determined by me, will be required.” Themis gave Zeus a look . She was far from his favorite ex-wife. “Let the battle begin!”

Okay. He could do this. The screen in front of him had three icons: one labeled “Internet Explorer,” one labeled “Firefox,” and one labeled “Chrome.” “Internet Explorer” sounded a little too perfect.Tekhno giving him an extra amount of time and dangling that in front of him? Not a chance—it had to be a trap. He’d never had good experiences with foxes. Those Japanese buggers in particular were tricky little beasts—so Chrome it was. He quickly figured out how to use the mouse and clicked it. The audience cheered in approval and Tekhno frowned. Good, he must be on the right track.