Authors: Horace Brickley
“Cuneiform,” said Jesse, “Sumerian stuff. It’s all triangles and lines.”
“Can you read it?” asked Tim.
“I don’t know anyone that can, except for college professors. I remember it from my ancient history courses.”
“I can’t picture you in history class,” said Blake.
“You don’t have to,” said Jesse. He patted Blake on the shoulder and walked around the ship.
At the bow was a captain's cabin, and above it a pla
tform with a stone podium. The same snake from Inanna's pendant was carved into the podium, and next to the snake was a tree. In the tree was a feral woman with wild hair.
Inanna stood at the head of a long, rectangular table. She sat down with grace, and gestured to the other head of the table. Jesse sat there. The others came over and sat on either side. Inanna waved over a
crewmember. This one was a woman, and she wore a simple dress. Her hair was long and braided and she had the same amber skin as Inanna, although hers was not without mortal blemishes. Inanna spoke to her in a language that Jesse did not recognize. Blake waved at her and smiled. She stared at him blankly for a second before she left. His smiled faded and he looked down at the carved wooden plate in front of him. Tim leaned over and nudged Blake in the arm.
“She’ll come around,” Tim said. Blake laughed.
“They will bring food shortly,” said Inanna. “I hope you have strong appetites.”
“Lady,” said Blake, “I haven't eaten hardly anything that hasn't come out of a bag or a can in a long time.”
“Blake,” Inanna said, with a stern tone, “I do not know what passes for manners where you are from, but if you refer to me as lady again I will have my servants throw you overboard.”
Blake swallowed hard and looked down at the table.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn't mean anything by it.”
Jesse looked at Inanna and gave her a look of disa
pproval. She cocked her head, and made a thin smile.
Inanna clasped her hands together and spoke, “I should apologize as well. You all have come a long way, and this must be difficult for you all to understand. I have not shared the company of humans in a long time, except for my servants, but they do not speak to me as you have. They live for me and my pleasure. They would slit their wrists if I asked to see the color red. I do not expect you to submit to me in such a way, but take care with your words. We gods have fiery tempers. Now, please eat and drink. You may ask me whatever que
stions you have once the food arrives.”
The food came out in stages. First were fruits and vegetables: fresh avocados, dates, figs, and other produce that amazed the group of tired travelers. They ate with reckless abandon. By the time the fish and bread came out, they were nearly full. The bread had a hard crust and a dry interior, but it came with side dishes of oil to soften it. The fish was massive and it was served whole. After they had managed to eat half the fish, some ser
vants came out with large horns of dark, cloudy beer. They all drank, until they could not drink anymore. The rest of the evening was a blur. Random questions were blurted out once the alcohol had lowered the fearful passengers' inhibitions.
“What does a god eat?”
“The same as you.”
“Do you age?”
“Slowly.”
“Can you die?”
“It is possible. Other gods have, but not I.”
“How did you get servants?”
“The same way a singer gets fans. I earned their admiration.”
The questions came suddenly and they were a
nswered with speed in a soft, apathetic tone.
Servants led all but Jesse and Inanna down to the lower decks to sleep. Inanna looked across the table at Jesse.
“Are you satisfied?” she asked him.
“Almost,” he said. With that, she stood up and walked to the heavy wooden door of the captain's cabin. Jesse stood and followed her. He felt like he was gliding. He had not experienced such pleasure in his life. His belly was full of succulent food and he was about to bed a goddess for the second time in one day. The door opened and they entered her cabin.
Dim light from a single oil lantern gave the interior of the room an intimate feel. Aromatic oils and sandalwood incense thickened the air. In the center of the room was a large bed with silk sheets. It called to him. She undid her dress with a single, deft motion and let it fall to the floor. Her profile was astounding. The small space between her upper thighs made him rigid in an instant. She released her hair from the braid and let it fall freely on the skin of her back. Her body was a work of art and she moved it with the skill of a dancer. She stepped over the fallen fabric and lowered herself onto the bed. He removed his clothes and tossed them aside. As he set his knee onto the mattress, she grabbed him and pulled him on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him and he clung to her. They wrestled with each other with raw passion until the moment of climax. When they had both had their fill he let himself dissolve into unconsciousness. He slept a deep, dreamless sleep. When he awoke, she was still beside him and awake as well. He rolled on his side.
“So, tell me of this husband of yours.”
“It was first love,” said Inanna and she continued with a narrator's voice. It felt to Jesse that she had invented the art of storytelling. She spoke with an artful precision.
“My brother told me to marry Dumuzi, who was a shepherd, but I wanted this farmer. Shepherding is lazy work compared to the farmer, some simpleton leading animals around and taking from them. A farmer cult
ivates, harvests, and they are the heart of civilization. But this Dumuzi was a proud man, and bombastic, so he used his words to make himself sound more the man. Whatever the farmer could do, he said he could do better. Where the farmer had grain, he had milk and cheese. Where one suitor had intoxicating beer, he had nourishing milk and cream. Where another had coarse flax, he had soft wool. I was young, so I fell for him. We made love and had two sons, but as we grew older, we also grew apart. He thought he could just be the shepherd king and not care for his wife anymore. A woman has many needs, a goddess has many more, and he could not satisfy them. I was busy taking what was rightfully mine: the powers of the universe. One power that I coveted more than any other was control of the underworld. So, I went down there. Things went poorly. I was caught and killed. I was saved and brought back to the land of the living, but the rules of the underworld are firm. One cannot simply leave the land of the dead, not unless they have a replacement. My servant saved me, and I could not repay her with death. I was followed by the
galla
to each of my temples, and at each temple, my followers were mourning me. When I came to my husband's palace, our palace, I saw that he sat upon his throne smiling and acting kingly while I had been rotting in captivity. He paid the ultimate price for his transgression. The
galla
took him. Now he sits in hell, in my place, and I do not mourn him.”
“That's a wild story. Why did they take him?”
“I suggested it to them.”
“Why?” asked Jesse, “He was your husband. Didn't you love him?”
“I did, but when I saw him on his throne, acting kingly, just as he had while I had been rotting on a meat hook in the underworld, I was filled with rage. I told the
galla
that he should be taken in my place. He ran, like a coward, but they caught him eventually. Him and his sister.”
“That's a dark story.”
“It is, but we all have darkness within us. What matters is whether the light overpowers the dark, or if it can even strike a balance. I strike the balance, but you — you are filled with light.”
“I don't think so. I'm just a man.”
“No,” said Inanna and she touched his chest, “You are a hero.”
“That word got thrown around so much back before the dead came back,” said Jesse. “Everyone was a damned hero in America. All you had to do was do your job, and then you're a damned hero. Become a firefighter and you're a hero, even if you never saved anyone. A cop: hero. A military reservist who never set foot on a battl
efield: hero. Saved a kitten: hero. Didn't crash a plane: hero. Donated some hair to kids with alopecia: hero. The word didn’t even mean anything anymore.”
“It means something to those that believe in heroes,” said Inanna. “No matter how old I get, I still believe in heroes. I believe in you. That is why I called you here.”
“That's the only reason?”
“No, I believe that you are the only one that can help me end this.”
“There's no end to this. The whole world is already dead, and those things just keep coming.”
“If there is a seed, no matter how small, there can be a plant.”
"We've got a pretty small and doomed plant then.”
“Do you believe that I am a goddess?”
“I believe you.”
“There are other gods still living in other realms, and there were many others before, but time has torn them asunder.”
“So this whole thing is because of the gods?”
“Just one.”
Jesse's eyelids closed into a squint and he furrowed his brow.
“My estranged sister, Ereshkigal.”
“Your sister killed my species?”
“My sister is a dour creature. She is the opposite of me in every way: hideous, evil, and unloved. She is what happens to a woman when she is completely neglected. The first time I laid eyes on her, she had her judges pr
onounce me guilty, and she killed me. I had foreseen that possibility, so my servant later came and saved me. She was told to oversee the dead, for all time. Overtime, the dead must have grown too many for her to bear, so she released them unto the world.”
“How is that even possible?”
“She holds domain over the underworld, but she can never leave. Her hatred keeps her alive, for that is all she has left.”
“I think I have seen her in my dreams. Just like I saw you.”
“This I know. The
galla
are her minions. She wants you dead.”
“I gathered. Anyways, wouldn't the dead just go back down there after they were killed? What about all the ones that died in this huge war?”
“I do not know what happens to those that die a second death, but those that die a single death go to meet Ereshkigal.”
“So all this death and strife is just a game for the gods?”
“Not a game. This is our life too, and our only life. I am the only god that ever came back to life. The rest have stayed dead.”
“OK, so what's your plan?”
“My plan was simple: I was waiting for you to come to me. I am a goddess and I could have continued as I had been for thousands of years. I was forgotten by men long ago, so I have grown accustomed to a lonesome life devoid of worship.”
“So why did you call me?”
“Is it not obvious?”
“Nothing that has happened in the past year has been obvious. This is like a long, hard path into absolute i
nsanity.”
“I want to be inspired again.”
“You want inspiration? This is all about you wanting inspiration? Why, Inanna?”
“Hold your anger. Life is a story, nothing but a story, just a tale that we pass along throughout time until the final moment is reached. Do you want the story of h
umans to end with a horrendous defeat by an army of thralls? What an ignoble end to a magnificent creation. Your brothers and sisters transformed this world in a profound way. Your buildings and monuments and art are astounding. Some of your creations are on par with the art of the gods: the art of nature. ”
Jesse thought on that for a moment, and he did not say anything.
“You have no doubt had companions before these ones you have with you now. Where are those other companions now? Where is your family? Where are your countrymen? Where are your fellow humans?”
“Dead.”
“Yes, they are dead. I know you have vengeance in your heart, and that is one of the reasons why I chose to call you here. You are the last living man with a pure purpose. You can deliver your people from evil.”
“What's the point?”
“You know the purpose of life otherwise you never would have made it here. You would not have walked so many lengths of road and risked life and limb to meet a vision from your dreams. You felt that there was something greater in store for you — something more than a beggar's death for you. And you knew that I had the answers, and now I have bestowed them upon you. Do not cast the truth aside. You can stop all this madness. You can drive a blade into the heart of evil and end the extermination of your people — of my people.”
“What makes you think I can do it?”
“Because you have the blood of champions in your veins. You are descended from Gilgamesh. His blood is your blood. His fire is your fire.”
“Gilgamesh? Like the epic?”
“Yes, Jesse. That fire made you a champion in your youth, and now it will make you a hero in these dire times. You will be a blade in the night, an assassin's bullet that ends a war. My sister is not expecting this. She lacks cunning. She has too much hate and not enough wisdom.”