Sisyphus

The World ended; The Gods are dead; The Story begins.

I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

I. Sisyphus

“…Imagine Sisyphus happy.”

As Sisyphus held the book in his left hand, his right hand rolled a stone around - a piece of the original Boulder - from the palm to the tips of the fingers. He tried and balance it there for a while, anticipating the drop as soon as he released the pressure of the thumb upon it. Took a deep breath, he threw the book at the wall. As the hardcover made impact, there was a futile resistant of skin and bones before the force broke through to the other side, leaving a giant hole and blood spurting out like water from broken pipes.

- Sorry, Larry. - He said to the wall.

- It’s all right, my King. - The wall replied, the hole already halfway healed. If there was a body, Sisyphus imagined Larry would be bowing, serving him tea despite the wound, like he always did.

There was no one next door, there hadn’t been one a long while, but Sisyphus knew he was going to have to clean up the mess, and it filled him with the urge to rip someone’s head off. The satisfactory pop when their necks gave way should subside his anger a little bit, but in front of him was a pile of red and no beings to be found. Nothing that needs a head at least. The thought turned his flame cold, leaving behind the ember of frustration.

- May I ask what have troubled you so, my liege? - The wall asked, used to his moods.

- It’s... nothing. - He shook his head and took another deep breath.

The Prince knew the agitation wasn’t coming from Camus - Immortality was still a foreign concept in the philosopher’s times - but it was easier to blame a man long-dead than someone Sisyphus tried not to ever think about.

- It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it, my liege. But may I ask you to bring me along if you are going away? - It was remarkable Larry still kept his wits about, despite his state, the will to look after his Prince surpassing the alure of insanity. Sisyphus wondered how much Larry could see without eyes.

- She’s back, Larry. - Sisyphus finally said, referring to myself, his left hand reached for Larry, feeling around the skin-wall for a pulse. The rhythmic beating may not be of any use to the old man, but the young Prince’ll take what connection he could get.

- Oh. What fantastic news. Isn’t that what you have been waiting for for so long, sire? - I imagined if he still had hands, he would be clapping and jumping for joy. Sisyphus couldn’t help but smile along.

- It’s true, old friend. It’s what we have all been waiting for. - Sisyphus put both my hands on the wall, their predetermined replacement of a hug.

Larry, however, felt the tension on his Prince’s forehead, the hastened heart, and a dampness of the palms, all rarely seen phenomenon for one such as Sisyphus. For how long the young Prince had lived, he feared me still.

II. Death

Sisyphus dug me out of the rubble that was once Olympus. According to him, it has been “a long while” since Mother suppressed my consciousness after the battle.

- Good to see you, Prince. - I said to the trickster.

- Can’t say I reciprocate the sentiment, Death. - He answered and turned off the flashlight. The Moon was the same and the Stars were the same behind him.

- So, the World didn’t end? - I asked, a bit cranky that nothing was a burning hell scape.

- It did. - With that, the conversation ended, his breathing added such a strong full stop to the sentence that I could feel the imaginary table shake and the pen nib broke in two.

The Giant Trickster had not changed a bit. Before he was pushing the Boulder, my preferred form of an average 18-year-old girl stood eye-level with his belly button, and the size of his leg alone was as wide as my body. Every glimpse you have of him would be muscle, so much that I afraid my fingers would break if I tried to poke his eyes out. But I knew just below the surface, there was a human softness.

- How did you know I was here? - I broke the silence.

- Lady Nyx showed me in a dream.

- Mother? After putting me down herself? Why?

- I’m afraid you will have to ask her that.

- Aren’t you too old for a Hero’s Journey, Prince? - I could see Sisyphus’ shoulder tensed up at the word “Hero.” Even at World’s end, man wants what they want.

- Why not? - He said, a pretense at nonchalance but I could feel Hope in his voice.

- Well, I guess I have to talk to Mother sooner or later anyway. So, lead the way.

A practiced movement, Sisyphus kneeled and offered me his shoulder. This has always been my favourite spot, he serving his eternal punishment me talking, absorbing the ever-changing landscape of Hades. It was rocky at first, but he had since learned to control his movement so well that I wouldn’t even sway if he were to sprint full-speed. For the first time, I will get to see how the World turned out without Death.