Accidental God -- Section 11b

[Long weekend, long week, long delay. Here's hoping I get back on track. Also, you're going to have to read the end of the last section to remember what Olivia is answering. Or rather, not answering.]

    “I have no answer for that,” said Olivia. “Whatever I say, you’ll just smile and say something else ridiculous.”
    “Chuck does that,” said Atty, walking in with a tray that supported mostly full glasses and a bowl of ice. With tongs. Who actually serves ice with tongs? “Mango nectar?” asked Atty, the angel who served ice with tongs.
    “Wow,” said Olivia, smiling. “Gods actually drink nectar.”
    “I do,” said Chuck. “Standing Appointment lives off Coffee and Red Bull, not usually at the same time, but often enough. The Twins are on this thing about drinking milk to lose weight, and while Mr. O sells muffins, no one has ever actually seen him eat or drink anything.”
    “Ever had ambrosia?” asked Bradley.
    Chuck took his glass and added three cubes. “I don’t actually know what that is. Sometimes I think the Greeks made it up.”
    “I’ve heard it’s real,” said the angel.
    “What’s it made of?”
    “It’s kind of like Nutella with biscotti.”
    “You’re not serious.”
    “It’s what I heard. Can’t blame me for rumors.”
    “Actually,” said Chuck, looking thoughtful, “I often can.”
    “I’m hurt, offended, and going to get doughnuts from your pantry.” And Atty was gone again.
    "Bradley," said Divine Chuck.
    "Yes, sir?"
    "I gather from your comments that you've had a run-in with some unusual creatures."
    Bradley found himself laughing a breathy laugh that was almost more cough than laugh. He reached out and snagged a glass from where the tray had settled onto the counter. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
    "I did say that."
    "That's what...it was a metaphor."
    "A figure of speech," corrected Olivia.
    Chuck winked at Bradley and smiled, the way only old men who are astonishingly comfortable with themselves can wink. And gods, apparently. "I was messing with you. But back on track: seeing things now? Don't look at her, Bradley. Look at me. She thinks I'm crazy and you're on your way there, and nothing you're going to do now is going to change that."
    Olivia pulled back. "I don't think you're crazy."
    "Delusional, then."
    "A very benign delusion, then," she said, shifting in her chair.
    "She doesn't want to say it outright, but she thinks I'm crazy, and that's why she's here. You see," Chuck pulled his hat off and went on in a stage whisper, his ball cap blocking Olivia from view, "she doesn't believe in gods. Do you believe in gods?"
    "I don't know," Bradley admitted.
    "Excellent," said Chuck, putting his hat back on and sitting back. Somehow a glass had made its way into his hand, though Bradley couldn't remember the man reaching for one. "That's a great start. Ignorance is the start of all knowledge, right?"
    "Knowledge leads to more knowledge," said Olivia. "Ignorance is never something to be proud of."
    "I never said I was proud of it," said Bradley.
    "Oh, but sometimes it is," went on the god, unperturbed. "Olivia, you have glasses on--metaphorical glasses, and I believe I'm using the term correctly--we all have these glasses on. They color how we see the world. They're the framework of belief that we all use to make sense of the rest of existence."
    "You're preaching to the choir," muttered Olivia over her glass as she took a drink.
    "I understand that, Miss Sociology Graduate Student, but this is important for Bradley to recognize, because while I have no illusions about ever converting you, I have no need to convert Bradley. He has Seen." The god said the last word with an arched eyebrow and a capital letter. It made Bradley want to squirm, but he didn't dare. The glass was just a little too full and the couch just a little too nice. No squirming until he got the mango nectar levels within safety parameters.
    "Always so dramatic," said Atty, walking back in with another tray, this one covered in doughnuts. The doughnuts ended up on the table and Atty fell gracefully into the other end of the couch shared by his boss.
    "Say what?" protested Chuck.
    "You're dramatic."
    "You are."
    "No, you are."
    "No, YOU are."
    "Here's a pillow."
    "Why do I need a pillow?"
    "For crying on, since you’re so dramatic."
    "Those jeans make you look fat."
    "Your FACE is fat."
    Bradley watched, somewhere between amusement and shock. Olivia drank her nectar and took notes. What could she possibly be writing down about this? Apparently, gods are something like teenagers: they think they are immortal and use really stupid insults.
    "Anyway," said Chuck, laughing. "I got off track again. Glasses."
    "Glasses?" asked Bradley.
    "The ones you see the world through."
    "Right. My world view."
    "Yes."
    "What about it?"
    "You've lost your glasses."
    "Oh." It made sense. He could see what Divine Chuck was getting at. When he'd gone to bed last night, the world was put together one way, with its usual complement of plants, animals, and laws of physics. When he'd woken up, he'd been without a stuffy nose, headache, or a really definite picture of how the world worked. Bagels were made with sunshine, his gut drove him around town, and gray scaly creatures tried to eat him. Apparently it wasn't the world that had changed; he'd simply lost his glasses.
    Bradley realized he'd been staring at a doughnut and looked up and around. Atty was making solid headway on a chocolate with chocolate and chocolate sprinkles, Chuck was yawning, and Olivia was watching him expectantly.
    "What's up?" he asked.
    "That's it?" she said.
    "I think so."
    "This guy you've never met before tells you that the world is completely changed, and you just say 'oh?'"
    "Was I supposed to say something else? And, um, that's not what he said."
    "He's right," interjected Chuck. "That's not what I said. Besides, like I told you before, I don't have to convert Bradley. Want a doughnut?"
    "Yeah. Maple?"
    "I think there's one buried," said Atty through a mouthful, managing to make talking with a chocolate doughnut in your cheeks look suave. Bradley sighed and went digging.
    Olivia took notes and shook her head. "I don't get you people. You seem so absolutely convinced, but no one will show me a single bit of evidence that you're actually gods or that these worlds you talk about truly exist."
    Chuck jerked his head at Olivia, smiling at Bradley. "See?" he said. "She's still wearing glasses."
    Olivia rolled her eyes. "Yes, I get it. Your metaphor is not lost on me."
    The god leaned forward, looked at the doughnuts meditatively, then pushed the tray away slightly and sat back. "So how did you lose your glasses?"
    Bradley chewed on his doughnut and shrugged. Why had he picked maple? He didn't like maple, not in comparison to that chocolate with chocolate and chocolate sprinkles, but he didn't feel he'd come off well in any comparison in Atty, so he chewed and swallowed. "I have no idea. I woke up, and they weren't there. Things were...different."
    "Any unusual events? Resurgent childhood trauma? Visit from a maiden aunt who the family has always worried about? You inherited a ring from your short yet exceptionally long-lived uncle who shares your birthday?"
    "I don't have an uncle."
    Chuck waggled his moustache dismissively. "No maiden aunts, either?"
    "All five are married."
    "Trauma?"
    "Not really. I lost my job. Almost killed a guy."
    "On purpose?"
    "No. Allergic reaction. It was my first night as a waiter. And my last."
    "But the guy didn't die?"
    "I don't think so. You know those old jokes where someone yells, 'Is there a doctor in the house?'"
    "Yeah."
    "There was a nurse. I think he was okay."
    "Hmm. Nothing else?"
    "Not that I can think of. I mean, there was this thing with my niece, but that was after, as far as I can tell."
    "That wasn't traumatic?"
    "No. She just had a cold or something." Bradley stopped talking. He was willing to say a lot of stuff, but he wasn't sure yet that he wanted to come out and tell Olivia that he might have healed a baby. First off, she'd probably think he was nuts--not just pathetic--and second, it might come off like he was trying too hard. YEAH, THAT GUY MAY BE AN ANGEL, BUT I HEAL BABIES. AND RESCUE WOUNDED, DWARF PANDAS FROM ANGRY POACHERS. ALSO, THE PANDAS ARE DIABETIC. He kept his mouth shut.
    "I'm stumped," said Chuck.
    "Me, too," said Atty. "Good doughnuts. Where'd you get them?"
    "A place Mr. O recommended."
    "Seriously? What did you have to pay for that recommendation?"
    "He doesn't do that to other gods, Atty. Just to mortals."
    "What did you pay?"
    "You don't believe me?"
    "I don't believe you."
    "Fine. I gave him my third favorite hat."
    "Forever?!"
    "Just a loaner, but still. That's a good hat."
    "No kidding, that's a good hat." Atty looked impressed. "I have to say, though, these doughnuts are worth it. At least the chocolate are." The angel reached for another, and Bradley silently regretted his maple bar yet again.
    "Let this be a lesson to you, Bradley," said Chuck. "Gods trade hats for doughnuts. Yes, this world you're seeing for the first time--it's not much different from the world you've known, not in the ways that really matter. You know all the stories about how crazy and stupid and generous and HUMAN all the Greek gods were?"
    Bradley nodded. "Some of those stories are nuts."
    "Yeah," agreed the god. "Humans ARE nuts. We're all kinds of crazy, humans and gods and fairies, and demons, and all the creatures from all seven of the cities that crowd together and meet." He held out his arms. "Right here in Seven Cities, Wisconsin."
Suddenly it seemed to Bradley as if the walls of the apartment were blown away by a wind, and his eyes were an onion, and the layers were peeled away one at a time, and he could SEE. The world was laid out before him--well, a small part of the world--and he could see the pit of fire that was just next to the library on Third, the mushroom ring in Mrs. Parkington's garden, the slow procession of hungry catipillars weaving a silken trail behind them that stretched between worlds, the unremembered dreams that called out, pulling a small boy back into the city he'd visited before and that he would visit again but that wasn't THIS city--it was another city, in the exact same place, and it was too much to take in, too much detail, and--
    Then it was gone. The walls were back, and Bradley was finally sitting all the way back on the couch, breathing heavily.
    "We're all a bit crazy," said Divine Chuck, "but we're all a bit good, too. It makes it fun to stick around." The god looked down at his empty wrist. "Look at the time. I need to go. Atty, you'll take care of my guests? Stick around with Bradley a bit, until he's really stablized. Keep the beasties off him until his energies even out, okay?"
    "No problem," said the angel.
    "Mind if I come along?" asked Olivia. "I haven't had a chance to interview many angels. They always say they're busy."
    "We usually are." Atty smiled. Olivia smiled back. Bradley tried to recover. Chuck stood up and walked over, until he was standing over the couch.
    "I think you've got some surprises in store, Practicality Bradley Shupak." The god smiled, and Bradley found he could breathe deeply. It was a good feeling, but he didn't feel relieved. He felt intimidated. There was something in Divine Chuck's eyes that spoke of weight and care to come. "Don't stress, Bradley. From what I've seen of you, things are going to get better. You'll pull through. Also, you don't have to finish the maple bar. I don't especially like them either. See? We're all kinds of human, we gods."
    Then he was down the hallway and calling goodbye. The door opened, closed, and Divine Chuck was gone.