Sisyphus (5)

How the Godless World works.

VII. God Damned the Sun

As Death, I’ve seen many a strange thing, but our little troupe on that trip could be a top contender. Next to me was Sisyphus, the first immortal man before every man was immortal, silently looking at the desertscape around us. In front of him sat the still unnamed prostitute and her client, Ted, a most insolent creature I ever did see, yet whom according to Sisyphus was one of the high-ranking members of the Grimscribes.

“I worship Death, hai. But I have never been Death. Religion gives me Hope. Keep Madness away, hai. Until you kill Ted, hai, you’re nothing.” – He said.

And I tried, oh I tried. Back when the World was whole, before I killed all of the Gods for what they’ve done to my brother, bringing Ted to Hades was less trouble than wiping away an eyelash. Now, I’ve witnessed the man picked his severed head off of the ground and reattached it. I’ve seen my touch did not so much of a scratch on him. And I’ve felt the curses I put on him slip away like water on a duck’s head (It’s a proverb I learned from the Vietnamese). All because every human in the world decided not to believe in me anymore. Preposterous of them, getting over such a primal fear because I was gone. How long was I gone?

Not that I care about these apes in the first place, but Hypnos was always fond of them, and I don’t think he’ll be too happy with me if they are in such a state. That is, if I could get my brother back. Thinking about my brother saddened me to no end, so I turned to my second favourite thing to do: talk to Sisyphus.

“What happened to the Sun?” – I asked, seeing Sisyphus looking up the pale-yellow sky.

“The moment you killed Apollo, it was gone. Not the Sun the giant ball of gas, but the concept of it: its heat, its shine, the fact that the World rotates around it, even photosynthesis. Perhaps it is still out there, a “Sun,” but no one’s been able to prove that.” – He explained.

“So, whichever God I killed, I also erase the concept that associated with them?” – I was skeptical.

Sisyphus demonstrated by taking out a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and turning the thing upside down over his hand. Instead of a stream, little glob of liquid trickled out, floated, swam around us like jellyfish.

“Have a taste.” – Sisyphus urged.

I obliged, scooping the jellyfish together into a bile, and suck them in. I winced at the burst of flavour and gagged; my stomach rumbled as if questioning my sanity for ingesting such vile filth. My jaw, before I even realized, was chewing, and the sticky wad was clinging like glue to my molars, tugging at them with each bite. I probed my teeth to scrape out the remaining “water.”

“Lucky you didn’t kill the God of Cola.” – Sisyphus smiled and produced a bottle of fizzy, neon blue substance from beneath the car seat. He drank it, and I could see the liquid inside behave… like liquid should. The once-King took out more bottles and passed it to me and the others.

“Very interesting. It appears the World is looking to humans to patch it up.” – I took big gulps between the sentence, trying to rid my body of the taste of “water.” I was never fond of Cola, but whatever I just drank tasted better than Ambrosia.

“Ya’ve seen nuthin’ yet, missy Death.” – The prostitute said. The way that word came out of her mouth, “Death,” sounded like it was foreign, with no attachments to any image or memory. No longer was the word “Death” conjured up the tall figure in a dark robe and scythe. “Death” is now the name of a little girl. Why couldn’t I have picked a better form?

The car drove on.

"Well, Prince, what have you been doing?” – I asked, ignoring my frustration and his reluctance to a conversation.

“Waiting, mostly waiting.” – He turned his head. “Since I have a lot of experience being an immortal, thanks to you, I adjusted better to the New World. With the downfall of Gods came the rise of Heroes, those with the kindness and conviction and strength and determination that would have put even Hercules to shame. But as predicted, some quicker than others, they all failed to Madness. For they knew not what they were fighting against. I, on the other hand, knew.” – He looked at me.

I laughed and took another sip of Cola.

“And you created a cult that worshipped me, all for this moment?”

“No, Grimscribes came from someone else. You’ll see him when we get to HQ. I wasn’t fond of the idea at first, but since our goals aligned, I found it couldn’t hurt. And they were especially useful, keeping the noise out.” – Sisyphus sparked another smile. He was trying to hide it, but there was happiness when he mentioned the Grimscribes. Or its leader?

The gold-lit sky was just beginning to fade into the hints of rusted iron. The air was stuffy and buttery still, with no wind to alleviate that problem. I should have kept Zephyr around.

All his life, Sisyphus was content with pushing a boulder up a hill, only to see it rolled back down before it reached the top. If he wasn’t doing that, he told me once, he would like to try out a Hero’s Journey of his own. “I would like to clear my name,” he said. I guess it was quite disheartening, being remembered only as a Trickster.

“What would you do after achieving that?” – I asked him, back when he was still pushing the boulder with me on his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I mean, someone has to push the boulder.” – He said without an ounce of sarcasm.

“Why not enjoy a rest?”

“For a little bit, sure. But I’ve seen what eternal fulfilment does to Gods and Heroes. No offense, Sire, but life without struggle is no life. Madness would catch up to me in a day if I lead the life of Hercules. Pushing a rock everyday, it isn’t as bad as it seems.”

The representative of all men and women, Sisyphus was. I could not have asked for a better friend.