Chapter 9, section 5: Ana El-Haqq

Smudges of warmth crept into his dizzy vision. Yellows, reds and oranges chased lightly with gold. Reds with little bangles of gold whirling like his beloved when they met again after being apart so long. Whirling together, she wore a flowing red dress and gold bangles on her wrists. Her eyes were black as a moonless jungle canopy, yet love poured out from them like wine. Kisses that unlocked his joints and sent them both into a rapture of whirling.

Beloved.

Life, beyond this black and white underworld riverbank.

Life stretched out in all directions farther than he could see through the whirling shapes and colors flowing by. Reds and yellows, joined by greens and blues, purples and browns. Colorforms danced before him in wild, random trajectories. Air stroked his face and arms, and it had substance. Light struck his eyes and he felt heat. Scents wafted into his nasal passages, massaging frozen brain cells back into their normal state of frenzied relaxation.

Memory flooded back. He wasn’t Nothing. No, not Nothing at all. In fact, he was so far from Nothing that he was full to brimming. He spun and spun and spun, beside himself, in ecstasy. He was ecstasy. He was the God of Ecstasy, of falling apart and leaving the shell of little self behind. Into the brilliant luminous sun with you! Tear yourself apart, little Nothing! Thrust yourself into the immeasurable space of emptiness! In luminosity, giant bubbles were filled with brightly colored illusion and he was the god of dancing in and around and with illusion, who was himself illusion. Burst the bubble of who you think you are and there he was, waiting: an illusion within an illusion within an illusion.

Dionysos, that was him. He may have spent a few centuries sinking into himself and away from his basic nature, but that didn’t change his basic nature. He was still the possession, as that pilot had said. He was still the bringer of wine and madness. He had simply stopped believing it.

When he arrived in a town, he still brought the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia with him. He still cavorted with Satyrs and Silenoi, and he still loved with the fullness of his terribly shredded heart. Maybe when he arrived in a town it was for a jungle break-beat road show, but it was still his show. The madness hadn’t changed, only the method. He still drove mortals to break out of what they thought of as their selves and dance wildly with the direct sensory experience of raw phenomena.

And now Coyote was gone. Dionysos whirled through a warmly lit space. The random bursts of color and light resolved themselves into regularly repeating shapes. There were large white shapes that seemed to be whirling much like he was, and one black shape that seemed to remain still, or was spinning in the opposite direction. All around them was a riot of colorforms, and everything was set in a warm luminous field. The black form was a still point, and the white forms were companions. They all spun and spun and spun beside themselves like white planets around a black sun. They all had shucked their small selves, their Nothings, and left them far behind. They were all basking in the glow of blessings, their robes soaked with ecstasy.

A flute pierced the air with longing, and his companions sang, “Ana el-Haqq, Ana el-Haqq” over and over in a melody that sometimes soared and sometimes flirted with the earth, then came to rest on her ample breast before leaping to soar again. Yes, this was a place where he could be at home.

He picked up the melody and sang, “Ana el-Haqq, Ana el-Haqq,” “I am God, I am God.” It was heresy, it was beautiful, and it was true.

As he gained his bearings in the whirling constellation of supplicants, more details began to resolve themselves. The white figures spun both on their own axes and around the black form in intricate arabesque patterns. They spun so swiftly that the fact they never collided testified to both intense discipline and true freedom. He could not recall seeing such a promise fulfilled in mortals since he returned to civilization. He had no idea where he was or who they were, but he plunged into their supplications as if he were one of them. He let his mind stay loose in the space of beloved and illusion while his body whirled in intricate arabesques that were familiar, but that he had never trained in, nor even seen.

This was letting go into godhood. Letting ecstasy lead him around and around and around so far beside himself that there was only this wide open space, and in the wide open space danced twelve mystics dressed in flowing white robes that flared at the bottom and hats on their heads that looked like tubular loaves of bread. Along with the mystics whirled their uninvited guest, who kept pace and speed and pattern, but who wore only simple trousers, oddly faded and torn in places. Shoes and shirt had been carried away by the river, along with his memory and any rush to get anywhere or do anything.

His memory was coming back, but there was still only the now. Past and future were only figments of a demented mortal’s imagination, desperate attempts to capture the intangible, make something solid so that they could feel solid themselves, and feel as if they mattered. But the truth that creeps unsuspected underneath plans and memories sings: there is nothing other than now.

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Chapter 9, section 4: Old Man Coyote leads the dance

The coyote leapt straight up with an explosive bark. Glass shattered.

What? Where? Was a pirate sneaking up on them with a sword? Quick scan: river, reeds, bushes, grass—nothing had changed except the coyote. Except Coyote. Old Man Coyote. Old friend… but who was this shivering person who just climbed out of the river?

Who was he?

The question struck him so hard in the face that it hurled him backwards and slammed his head into the grass.

Ouch. That hurt.

You know you’re still all that, you just stopped believing it.

Hot doggie breath filled his nostrils. Coyote’s impossible pink tongue wicked inches from his face. Those eyes bored into him like they were rummaging through his mind looking for a lost thought.

“Can you read my thoughts, friend? My mind is so full of nothing I think that Nothing must be what I am.”

Coyote barked and licked a swathe across his nose and cheek.

“I take it that means yes, my name is Nothing.” He stood up and torqued his head until his neck cracked with a satisfying clack. “Well then dear Coyote, will you do your friend Nothing the honor of a dance?”

Coyote cocked his head, then pawed the ground with one foot.

“A dance with Nothing?”

Coyote bounced a couple of times on his front legs, then ran to a nearby bush, raising a leg to mark the spot with a steaming stream of yellow.

Nothing laughed and followed along, peeing in a spot right next to his friend. The two of them progressed in a wide circle, marking it in hallowed doggie style. Except that Nothing ran out of piss long before Coyote, so for most of the ritual he coughed up enough spittle for a good-sized gob and horked his way around the circle.

When the circle was complete, Coyote hopped from one side to the other: right left right.

Nothing hopped from one foot to the other, left right left.

Coyote hopped right left right.

Nothing hopped left right left.

Right left right, circling, Coyote’s golden eyes shining in the silver landscape.

Left right left, hopping and bouncing, blood rushing to heat wind-frozen pants.

Right left right, golden eyes.

Left right left, silver water.

Right left right, pink tongue.

Left right left, gray gray grass.

Right left right, golden eyes locked onto his, hopping in a circle. Golden eyes that were the most exquisite things in the universe; this or any universe. The giant golden eyes of his friend Coyote, who hopped from one foot to the other in a well-marked circle.

Suddenly, Coyote made another of his unannounced leaps. He landed in a rolling heap and rubbed his back on the grass furiously. Nothing hopped, left right left right left, to stand over the canine curiously. Coyote stopped squirming a moment and looked up, then rolled himself right into Nothing’s legs. Nothing landed in a flailing pile of arms and legs—more legs than arms—and paws and hands—more paws than hands. Coyote had the advantage of twice the available limbs, but Nothing felt at home in this tumbling, off-balance place. All cold was banished and he was master of the rolling grass and silver splashes of sky.

Nothing and Coyote wrestled in the circle they had staked out, grass and leaves and limbs and sky all blurred into one continuous black and silver and gray and white tone painting with two glowing golden orbs darting here and there. The painting shifted in no particular time with the wrestlers’ grunts and oofs and growls. A growl accompanied bright silver flashes. An oof accompanied darkness crawling with lithographic lines. A grunt a long sweep of white.

Over and over they tumbled, until the ground gave way and gravity spun out like a drunken top. Swatches of white and gray and silver and black flew by, with an occasional flash of yellow gold. Nothing lost all sense of place as shades flew by. He and Coyote whirled on the grassy knoll, and neither Coyote nor the grassy knoll were there. Nor was Nothing. There was only whirling, and shades of gray. Endless tones and long strokes of gray.

Red flashed shocking by.

Nothing’s mind hiccupped.

Red? What was that doing here?

But everything was gray swirling white silver black again. Landscapes fingerpainted on space.

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Chapter 9, section 3: Forgetfulness, the River Lethe

This time it happened on the way to O.A.I.’s private airport. He was on the phone with his lovely wife, catching up on the last few days’ events. Things back home hadn’t been quite so turbulent as on the road. The Satyr Diaphanos was having some problems with his main sampler, and after they last talked, Nakalos had gone on a two-day tear. He was now on the couch sleeping like a baby, snoring like a chainsaw.

The cold of hell started at his feet. Wet and cold crept up from his toes to his ankles. Frigid water flowed over his feet. It splashed his shins and rose up to dowse his seat. Then he was chest-deep in bone-chillingly cold water, cell phone crackling static in his ear. It was dark all around, and foggy in the middle of the river.

It was cold.

It had always been cold. Cold, and dark.

That was all he knew, and all he had ever known.

A familiar voice echoed in his mind. You just stopped believing it.

Believing what? That his legs had sensation? That the existence of anything outside this fog was a certainty?

You’re still all that. That voice again, not his.

All what? These legs that carved themselves out of the chilled water flowing over and around them; these he knew. And this chest and stomach carved of ice, this scrotum that gave up retreating for warmth, because there was none to be found.

Eat this bread, it is my flesh.

Who was that voice in his head? He saw a flashing image of floating on a warm ocean in the sunshine. Dolphins played, and a man with a pilot’s cap sat with him. Was that who spoke?

You stopped believing it.

Stopped believing. Is that why I’m here in this cold frigid freezing cold watery place, up to my nipples in freezing cold river water? I don’t remember stopping believing in anything, but then I don’t remember anything at all. Odd.

Drink this wine, it is my blood.

Drink this wine… that sounded familiar. He watched a branch float past, then saw some movement above the waterline in the fog.

I made you stand beside yourself.

Had he forgotten how to beside himself? Maybe if he kept moving towards the reeds he could stand beside himself again.

Maybe he’d remember… whatever it was…

He came closer to the musical reeds. The water receded slightly, and a frozen symphony rafted over his flesh. The clothes clung to his skin like sheets of ice. But he could move more freely in the air, and that was good. Move freely, if he didn’t freeze solid first.

Move freely so that he didn’t freeze solid first.

Stand beside yourself.

Okay.

He reached the reeds and stopped. The water kept flowing and the reeds kept swaying. He stopped, but nothing stopped with him. He stood still beside the reeds, and remembered to move freely so that he didn’t freeze solid. His shirt felt heavy, so much colder than the air. He slipped it off and threw it in the water. It cracked a reed and was caught on the current. He watched it drift away into the gray fog. His skin dried swiftly and the cold didn’t bite his flesh quite so hard. But what about standing beside himself?

The reeds still swayed slightly, looking thin and naked. Maybe they had taken their clothes off to keep from freezing too. More likely, they started out naked and stayed without clothes throughout their lives. That would be simpler, more reed-like.

He pushed his way across the current and the ground rose, bringing more of him out of the water and into the frigid wind. No, the wind wasn’t so frigid, but the water was, so the wind played along and froze any wet thing it touched.

In the fog beyond the reeds the river ended with an overhung bank of grass and bushes. On the bank sat a rangy creature with peaked ears pointing straight up. Big yellow close-set eyes stared at him curiously. An impossibly long pink tongue fell out of an equally impossible mouth, its end rolling up and down in time with its shallow panting. The beast was familiar somehow, from somewhere. Those enormous bright eyes spoke secretly, whispering a keening sad, contagiously friendly song. Lost on the bank of a river keening for a friend. Did they know each other from the bank of another river? Or did they meet here from time to time, but it had been such a long time that he couldn’t remember, and that was why the skinny fellow looked so sad? His teeth looked like knives when he smiled, long pink tongue lolling out lazily between them. Sad, dangerous, friendly; sitting on the bank of a river waiting to be joined. Maybe he had a secret to tell. Or maybe he simply wanted some company while he watched the river pass by.

He hauled himself out of the water and sat next to his canine friend, who lowered himself down and put head between paws. The wind was easier on the pants, but they were awfully heavy and quite uncomfortable, like someone had taken ice cubes and taped them inside.

So here was the river, rushing by with a flashing sliver gleam. And here was the stand of reeds, black stalks swaying in the icy current. Here was the white fog, obscuring everything on the other side of the reeds. Here was the overhang of bushes, a riot of silver, grays and black. And here behind him was a small knoll covered with grayish grass. And here lay an emaciated coyote whose silvery coat was burnished with browns, whose tongue was shockingly pink, and whose big golden eyes looked up at him, mad as Alice’s Hatter and sad as a parent who’s lost their only child. What was wrong with this picture? Why did those eyes look so out of place? And…

“Where are we?”

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Chapter 9, section 2: Get me home by midnight

Shadows of the bungalow subdivision drew long on the sand. The four gods sat in white plastic lawn chairs around a folding plastic card table on Apollo’s roof and drank beer. Their shadows extended out like fingers dipping into the surf.

Apollo explained that a few days earlier he took a prototype vertical-takeoff stealth attack jet out for a test spin from an aircraft carrier. Beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. The takeoff was flawless, the test perfect. He eluded the radar of the mightiest navy in the world when they were actively searching for him. It was truly beautiful, and the contract would put a healthy sum into Olympian Aerospace Industries’ coffers. Unfortunately, as he approached the deck for landing, all onboard instruments blew. Not all at once or in some electrical wiring pattern, but in a wave from left to right. Starting with the port wingtip and ending with the starboard wingtip.  Yes, the plane had exploded in a fireball. But the flame wasn’t hot. It was icy cold, in fact.

“So you’re telling me that you called me out of Paradise—and on the way down I had to escape from Hell—to listen to one of your heroic survivor stories?”

Zeus leaned in, “No. We don’t know what happened, but after the prototype blew, there was a spot in the sky without color. Dark, like a dirty thumb print.”

“We went back the next day,” Apollo added, “and it was still there.”

“Where?”

The other three looked across at each other. Zeus spoke, “Right where Big Thunder flew into Hades—and out again.”

Dionysos drained his brew, “So you know who it is. Why call me?”

“You’re the only one of us who’s ever had anything like free access between his realm and ours.”

“Hermes.”

“No, he only guides the dead. You bring them back.”

“Sometimes. Usually by fluke.”

“Yes, yes, but my brother obviously trusts you enough to reach out. The rest of us, well there was the incident in Montréal, and now this. He just lashes out, or smolders, but to you he’ll talk. Lord knows why.”

A young couple walked along the surf line hand in hand, sharing secrets. Dionysos leaned against the railing and watched them a minute. These three were being extremely civil with him. Polite and flattering, even. They must be scared.

Good. He could play with that. Not for any particular advantage, just for the fun of seeing them jump. “He’s a lost soul who regrets his decision but changed his mind too late. Hesitation cost him dearly.” The couple faded off out of sight. Dionysos fished another beer out of the cooler, “You do realize that you’re proposing the impossible.”

Apollo burst out laughing, “We are the impossible, Swamp Thing.”

“Watch your mouth, Glory Butt, or you’ll find it escorting the sun around like you used to.” He turned and switched to a serious tone, “Backing up here, am I correct that you want to give Hades what he wants?”

“He is family, and with that hole you fell through… who knows where else they may be. Or who else may be prowling around, if Thanatos followed you out as you say. That becomes a serious problem, especially for the mortals.”

“Thanatos needs his master, yes. And his mistress. Do you have a plan to accomplish this?”

Zeus sighed, “No, we had hoped—“

“That I could talk with him, nice and calm-like. Yeah, right. Our best chance to do something effective is if we’re all in once place. Passover Satyr’s big concert is in a few days. Contact everyone you can find and get them to Montréal. Everyone possible—Clotho, Eos, Hypnos—everyone.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Yet.” He held up a hand at their objections. “Figuring that out is what I’ll be doing this week. That, and rehearsing. Acceptable?”

Hesitantly, they nodded.

The sky over the ocean painted the sand, the wood railing and the gods’ faces with the pinks and purples of dusk. They talked a little longer before Dionysos reminded them that he had to be back home by midnight or be torn limb from limb by his wife. That got a sympathetic nod from Zeus, who offered to drive him to the plane.

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Chapter 9: Dionysos pleads his case and is sent back to Hell

“I know what happened, damn it! Don’t lecture me!”

Zeus’ tone was even, “You broke the First Law of Exile.”

Dionysos slammed his fists down on the coffee table, sending bone porcelain chattering noisily, “Bullshit, father! You can’t tell me you never show off your godhood to dazzle some bra-busting secretary.” He pointed around the table, “And you, Aries, walking calmly across a battlefield with grenades exploding at your feet. And you dear brother Apollo, emerging from yet another wrecked and burning hulk of an experimental failure unscathed, just so you can show off to your colleagues. But you expect me to lie when a poor mortal—under your employ—has two good eyes and two good ears and a working brain between them? Hypocrites!”

Zeus stood and turned his back to them, shoved open the sliding glass patio doors and stepped through. Dionysos crossed to his brother’s bar to examine what might be stocked. He was greeted by a whole lot of beer and one lonely bottle of Tanqueray. That fit with the rest of the décor. Dionysos thought that South Florida military bungalow style was pretty cramped and shoddy. Not his thing. Apollo’s decorating sense didn’t help. The shaggy throw rugs and Jetsons-era living room arrangement were on the far side of tacky, but at least the view was nice. He’d have to sit down with his brother when they had a chance and see what had happened to the god of beauty and light. Had he been completely transformed into an ambitious military machine?

Once upon a long time ago, Apollo the glorious God of the Sun would do horrible things to any mortal who dared claim that they could play the lyre as beautifully as he. So what if his precise sense of form ran contrary to Dionysos’ own let-it-all-hang-so-far-out-that-you’re-standing-beside-yourself. They were both essential parts of human reality. Two sides of the same coin. Take Dionysos away and the world would stiffen and atrophy like an ageing grammar school Latin teacher. Art would be shoehorned into the service of dry intellect, or become pure artifice devoid of meaning. Without depth of meaning in the act of creation, humans would be stripped of all self-reflective capacity and fall prey to the worst instincts of the horde: follow the leader no matter where the leader goes, even off thousand-meter cliffs en masse. Take Apollo out of the picture, and the world would become devoted to the pursuit of purely sensual pleasures. Spirit and intellect, starved, would shrivel into a prune and run out their rear ends. Humanity would wander around in a dazed, animal stupor, unable to think or defend himself, or to create anything at all. Art, music and all aesthetic pleasures would simply cease to exist, because there would be no intelligence available to appreciate them with. Humans, no better than animals, would fall prey to animals, and fall swiftly from being the world’s dominant hunter to the world’s most eligible food source.

Unfortunately, Apollo wasn’t much of an intellect himself. He lived in a small subdivision on the beach reserved for U.S.A.F. pilots. Other than the location, it was a modest neighborhood of straight mid-Twentieth Century military housing. The bungalows were all rectangular, vinyl sided one story squats with flat roofs and identical layouts, all arranged in a longer rectangle. Twenty houses faced off in two long rows and three at the end stared down the long sandy street. Over the years owners had added personal touches to their homes, mostly in the form of decks behind or on top of buildings. Apollo had taken his decking a couple of steps past where it was when he had moved in. His bungalow was both surrounded and capped by wooden decking, giving him significant extra space in the long Florida summer. The bungalow was also one of the lucky ones that butted against the beach. Stepping through the patio doors, there was only sawgrass, sand and the usual occupants of a military-owned stretch of Florida beach: shells, seaweed, hermit crabs, sandpipers, buoys, bottles and the occasional Long Island Whitefish.

Dionysos turned to Aries, who sat stiffly in a rattan lounger, “Coz’? What would you have had me do?”

The god of war sipped his Budweiser and spoke carefully, “If you had followed any orders I would have given, you would still be stuck there, and keeping very unhappy company. You are the expert on going back and forth between life and death. I only send people there. I don’t know what else you could have done, and I respectfully differ in opinion from my illustrious uncle.”

Apollo broke in, “But did you have to turn those guys into dolphins?”

“They were so annoying.” Dionysos laughed, “I mean they actually tied me to a chair and demanded that I put color back into the landscape and return us to flying over the ocean like we were supposed to and not some stupid quasi-mythological movie set landscape.”

Aries sprayed Budweiser foam over his companions, causing Apollo to struggle from the depths of his sofa to grab a hand towel that hung next to the bar. While he wiped down the table, Dionysos rounded up with, “At least I didn’t keep them as frogs. Anyway, they’re much happier now. Dolphins are generally happy creatures. I know, ‘cause they’re mine.”

“Yes,” Aries growled, “But those boys were mine.”

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Chapter 8, section 10: Let’s make a deal

They sat staring at each other until he turned his attention to the wall of monitors, and the image of his apartment on de Gaspé. It was a small and very simple place, perhaps the simplest he had inhabited in centuries. He would miss it.

“Okay bro’, shoot. Tell me more.”

He kept examining various monitors. “It’s simple, really. Two parts. One: I give you access to those two accounts you can’t touch, and in exchange you keep the medical operation in Manaús from falling into a pharmaceutical company’s hands. Any pharmaceutical company. I don’t care if I keep it, I just don’t want the sweat those researchers have put into their work to end up being used in a new Prozac or Viagra. Humans have enough problems facing their demons as it is.”

“Two?”

“You force a face-off between Johnny Freefall and Frenzy like that and there’s gonna be casualties. And none of them’ll be Frenzy, but if my sensitivity to impending deaths hasn’t been completely jangled by immersion in sex baths, then two of those deaths would be of humans I raised like my own kids. Deal: I show up with you to defuse the situation and let all my people know the game’s up, and you let the Twins go. Johnny Freefall gets a head start and you get Pan in the bag.”

That was pushing it, but he had to try.

She thought a moment, then said, “Would your twins go to Manaús?”

“If I told them to.”

“Then show me the money.”

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