Maya Bohnhoff: The Secret Life of Gods

“Prejudice,” murmured Yoshi.

Burton glanced at her. “Prejudice,” he agreed. “I can only plead that my lack of exposure to… other races of men has ill-prepared me to deal with them. I have never liked reptiles. The sight of a six-foot-tall lizard gives me goose flesh. But I suppose if I closed my eyes, Tzia would seem as human as the next qualified archaeologist.” He met Yoshi’s eyes. “I will try to listen to her without looking.”

Catching Yoshi’s barely perceptible nod, Rhys bowed to his mentor. “I believe we’d be interested in renewing our collaboration under those circumstances. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

Burton snorted. “Change of heart? What was it Wayne said—that he’d never again look at a potsherd in the same way? Let me tell you something; I have immersed myself in Mesoamerican antiquities for over forty years. After our little jaunt, I shall never look at Caracol or Tikal or Teotihuacan the same way ever again. I shall wonder about every pyramid and stelae, every mural and icon. Dear God, do you realize that the statue of Chac Mol at Chichen Itza might have been an advertisement for Lamaze classes?” Finding that thought supremely amusing, he rolled away from his guests leaving a trail of guffaws.

Rhys looked after him for a moment, then put his arm around Yoshi’s shoulders. “He’s right, you know. If this escapade has served a purpose, it’s been to make us question our assumptions. About a lot of things… Now, let’s go collect our duffel and hie down to the surface. Rick can sleep it off in the shuttle.”

Yoshi nodded, her brow creased with evident concern. “Sir,” she said, and he sighed inwardly. “Is this a good time to tell you about the graffiti on the side of Dr. Burton’s shuttle?”

He stared at her. “You put graffiti on his shuttle? Good Lord, Yoshi, I realize you don’t like the man, but—”

She was shaking her head. “No. I didn’t do it. I only noticed it when we debarked just now. It wasn’t there when we went down.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying?”

She nodded, eyes glinting. “That there’s a reason one of the calendar symbols looks like a little shuttle.”

“No.” Rhys steered her through the open hatch of their own lander. “I will not buy into this. You’re having me on, for reasons known only to yourself.”

She craned her head to glance back into the bay. “You’re not even going to look?”

“No. Most emphatically not. We are not space gods, we did not interfere with this culture, and no one painted graffiti on Dr. Burton’s shuttle.”

Yoshi smiled—wickedly, Rhys thought. “OK, but I bet when we get back to Etsat you’re going to look at a lot of things very differently.”

She was right, of that much he was certain. He would look at everything differently. And Yoshi, he thought as they reboarded and battened down, I believe I shall start with you.

Illustrations by Nicholas Jainschig