<\/p>\n
Peter had walked into the sitting rooms of the rich and powerful many times during the course of his career. What struck him first about this room was that it didn\u2019t show the same trappings of greed and lust. No money-crazed hoarding of art and collectibles. No status symbol antiques and paintings that appeared to have been purchased, at great expense, simply to be shown off and make lesser men grind their teeth.<\/p>\n
Excepting, of course, the extravagant underground setting, Mithras lived in a paradoxically humble way. There was no need for him to inspire envy, or fear. He was a god in a time when all other gods were dead. The unchallenged successor to the Earth and its several billion subjects.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou lied to me, didn\u2019t you? Peter mumbled, speaking without thinking. <\/p>\n
Karl turned. \u201cSorry?\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter shook his head, tried to force a smile. \u201cYou don\u2019t need me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe do, Mr. Willingham. I assure you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter walked into the sitting room, the doors closing behind him with barely a sound, and sat where Karl indicated. A large, outdated, unfashionable couch sitting in the sunken living room in the center of the room. Two overstuffed chairs faced the couch, and a coffee table spread with several novels and a few popular magazines sat perfectly centered. Even the seemingly scattered novels and magazines, after Peter examined them for a few moments, looked to have been purposely laid out. More for show. Here\u2019s what Mithras reads \u2013 just like you, and you, and you\u2026<\/p>\n
Karl took one of the easy chairs and picked up one of the magazines, paging through it without really focusing on anything. <\/p>\n
\u201cSo\u2026\u201d Peter said.<\/p>\n
Karl looked up.<\/p>\n
Peter smiled expectantly.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh-huh. I don\u2019t care about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Karl put down the magazine. \u201cAll okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDude. Gin and tonic.\u201d<\/p>\n
Karl\u2019s face lit up, \u201cOh! Oh my! Sorry. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hurried up the two slab steps that led to the sunken living room and ran along the walkway that led to a wide open kitchen, a false window backlit to give a sense of sunlight streaming into every corner. <\/p>\n
As he started to rattle around, Mithras appeared from deeper in the flat (as Peter now thought of it, with the doors closed and the grandeur of the entrance hall hidden away). <\/p>\n
The horned god stood ten feet tall, a body built for power and speed, barely contained in business suit. A choice of attire that was all the more comical considering that Mithras had a bull\u2019s head, slightly curved and shaped to appear more human than animal, and giant, curving horns. <\/p>\n
The eyes, more intelligent and welcoming than a bull\u2019s eyes, touched with a strange luminescent grey-green amidst a sea of light brown, regarded Peter for a moment. He found himself standing involuntarily.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s been some time, Mr. Willingham.\u201d Mithras said, stepping down into the living room and extending a giant, furry hand. Despite the obvious ability to crush rocks and uproot trees, Mithras shook hands gently and kindly. There was an elegance to this most inelegant of figures.<\/p>\n
He sat down in one of the over-sized easy chairs, suddenly making it look like a tiny lawn chair at a child\u2019s tea party. And, as Karl returned with a large tumbler, Peter took his drink and found himself unable to shake the tea party image. He resumed his seat on the couch and took a long, grateful pull on the g&t. Karl had made it weak. Fuck Karl.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe last met\u2026 Webb\u2019s New Year\u2019s party, yes? At his house in Virginia?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI believe so, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had just retired\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy work was done.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, a man\u2019s work is never done, Peter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter shrugged, finished his drink, then cleared his throat. \u201cI disagree, but, yes, I appreciate the figurative meaning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mithras leaned forward, still huge and imposing even as he tried to bring himself down to the size and level of a human. \u201cYour work is certainly not done.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be honest\u2026you don\u2019t need me. The world is your oyster. It always has been. Webb will endorse you, and your followers alone can vote you in. No one stands a chance against you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want an election that is clean and fair, Peter. I don\u2019t want to win office simply because I\u2019m Mithras reborn. I want to win the hearts of the people.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have. You\u2019re a god.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll still have to face some awkward questions.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike who are the gods I don\u2019t recognize in your hallway out there?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mithras sat back and smiled. Or, at least, what passed as a smile. It was more of a terrifying sneer. But Peter had gotten used to it over the years. <\/p>\n
\u201cThe forgotten ones.\u201d Mithras said. \u201cSome were friends, some enemies. And each has a story. \u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you filled in all the gaps in human history.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is a history from before humans walked the Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe old days.\u201d Karl muttered reverently. <\/p>\n
\u201cMy contemporaries walked the Earth with me as equals. Some of those out there lived and died before the human race was even a spark.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat will be one of the issues, if you follow the campaign that Karl outlined yesterday. How do you remember the old days? You were cloned in a lab. You are not the original Mithras, but instead reverse-engineered from that creature\u2019s remains.\u201d<\/p>\n
Karl\u2019s sharp intake of breath made Peter\u2019s ear twitch, and he instinctively turned and raised an arm as Karl rose from the chair and made as if to lunge. But Mithras raised a hand and gently told Karl to stop. <\/p>\n
\u201cPlease, Karl,\u201d Mithras said, \u201cthis is why we hired Peter. To speak the truth we have avoided.\u201d He turned to Peter, \u201cThe answer, I\u2019m afraid, is not an easy one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wouldn\u2019t imagine so.\u201d Peter replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cKarl, get Peter another drink. And make it stronger this time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Karl glared at Peter for a moment, then turned sharply and headed back for the kitchen.<\/p>\n
\u201cReading minds, now?\u201d Peter asked Mithras.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I just know that you like a strong drink and Karl has a light pour.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo\u2026the answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe truth is that I don\u2019t know how I remember the old days. I didn\u2019t, at first. They came to me gradually. And we can talk all night about the nature of our minds and our souls. Yes, I was engineered in a lab, but I am now as alive as you are. Do you believe in the soul?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, something separates us, yes? From the beasts, from the insects. Yes? What would you call it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSolipsism.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mithras laughed. A terrifying, animalistic roar. \u201cOh! Very good, Peter! Very good!\u201d Catching his breath, still chuckling, Mithras waved Karl away after he returned with another drink. Peter took it up and drank half of it in one gulp, and Karl slinked off. <\/p>\n
\u201cNow,\u201d Mithras continued, \u201cI, for one, believe there is something there. Some spark of life that is beyond all of our knowledge. I believe that spark never dies. I believe that, when this shell was formed in the laboratory and given life, it became a vessel for the long-lost soul of the original Mithras. But after so many generations, it took some time to\u2026wake up. To come out of the mist.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd now it has?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMore and more every day. I believe all of our souls are recycled in this nature.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why don\u2019t we all draw upon such fonts of knowledge?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am not human, Peter. I\u2019m an entirely different species. If the old gods are mortal, then how could they have possibly reigned for so long if not through this ability to remember. To carry on. Spiritual immortality. The souls moving from body to body. Whether born or built, the body is merely the vessel. And the old gods were gods because they had been given the ability to tap into their past. Their knowledge. Their infinite millennia of experience and power.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, fine then. That\u2019ll make perfect sense when you explain it. People eat that shit up all the time. Again, you don\u2019t need me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember when we first met?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWebb introduced \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cPrecisely. You can\u2019t remember when we really first met, Peter. You\u2019re trapped in the here and now. The paltry, short, human existence. Your soul screams out, though, with an eon of memories. You and I first met long, long ago\u2026 And I haven\u2019t fully understood any of it until recently. I haven\u2019t completely remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. Well\u2026\u201d Peter blinked, finished his drink, then rose to make another for himself now that Karl was gone. Though Karl hadn\u2019t left. He stood by the doors with two cloaked figures. As Peter stood there staring, the doors rolled gently open.<\/p>\n
Mithras, coming up beside Peter, said gently, \u201cWould you like to see yourself again\u2026old friend?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh fuck me.\u201d Peter whispered. He had no choice. Mithras placed a huge hand on his shoulder and guided him past Karl and the doors and back into the hallway of statues, torches, and expensive lighting effects. He took Peter to the third god on the left \u2013 a giant, angry-faced beast. Bald, with deep-set eyes and a large month, the god seemed to be about to rise from his chair, the stone face caught in mid-shout, six-fingered hands clutching the armrests for leverage.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Molonar.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing stirred in Peter. He realized that he\u2019d allowed himself to be swept up into the nonsense and half expected his so-called soul to wake up and recognize itself. <\/p>\n
\u201cNothing?\u201d Mithras asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course not.\u201d Peter replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cI had quietly hoped\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter looked up at Mithras, \u201cWhat makes you think I\u2019m this god? You can see people\u2019s souls?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe gods recognize each other. Even if the god in you is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is all hokum. Look \u2013 I\u2019m not interested in the job. I\u2019m retired. Let\u2019s just go our separate ways\u2026 Best of luck to your campaign.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mithras, looking up at the stone statue, was shaking his head. \u201cNo, no, Peter. I\u2019m afraid it\u2019s not as simple as all that.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOh my god\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow that I know who and what you are, I simply must act.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAct?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou, like everyone else, have asked the big question. Where are the other old gods?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh\u2026\u201d Peter moved slightly away as it dawned on him. If Mithras was right about the old souls being recycled, then\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cThen?\u201d<\/p>\n
Peter jerked back, \u201cFuck me, you are reading minds?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mithras, snarling, turned and leaned in, \u201cBecause they\u2019re so small!\u201d<\/p>\n
He closed his eyes and put a giant hand to his forehead. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Peter. It\u2019s all so exhausting sometimes. When these vessels, \u201c he swept his hands to indicate himself, \u201call died, the souls of the gods recycled into human vessels\u2026and have become trapped. I can lead teams to the final resting places for many of the old gods, but the spark of life won\u2019t take hold if the souls are not set free.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShit\u2026wait a minute\u2026 You\u2019re not planning something crazy, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDefine crazy,\u201d Karl whispered, stepping up behind Peter. Peter felt the jab of a needle, but didn\u2019t have enough time to do anything more than leap away and shout incoherently. His world became a grey, senseless mist.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[67],"tags":[405,260],"class_list":["post-1403","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-serials","tag-serials","tag-vote-for-mithras"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1403","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1403"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1403\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1405,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1403\/revisions\/1405"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1403"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1403"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1403"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}