Divine Misfortune

They were paying the bills, and they weren’t that far in debt. Not more than anyone else. And he had a wife who loved him. He knew it should’ve been enough. More than enough for any man.

It wasn’t. Not when any idiot willing to throw a lamb onto a pyre was able to get ahead while they struggled to make it. Everything would be great if they could just get a little divine intervention.

She turned her back to him. “I just think it’s a bad idea, Phil. That’s all.”

“Okay, tell you what. Let’s think about it for a couple more days. Will you at least promise me that you’ll think about it?”

“If that’s what you want.”

A week passed. Phil went online and watched clips of various gods. He even considered signing up with one in secret. Teri didn’t have to know. He could always keep the altar or shrine or whatever somewhere else. Maybe at a friend’s house. Or in the toolshed. He told himself that it would be a good thing, that it would improve their life, and that if Teri wasn’t signed up, too, then it would work out great for her since she’d get all the benefits without any of the obligations.

He couldn’t do it. Not behind her back. If they were going to do it, they needed to do it together or not at all. Teri would never budge on this issue, and maybe she was right. He already had a lot of responsibilities. He didn’t need any more. Especially responsibilities that involved temperamental deities who had a tendency to smite first and never even bother asking questions later. The longer he thought about it, the more he knew it had been a bad idea and that Teri had done him a big favor by talking him out of it. That was why he loved her. She had the common sense he didn’t.

The next day, she called him at work.

“Let’s do it.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“The god thing. Let’s do it.”

It took Phil a few moments to remember the debate, so far back had he pushed it in his mind. “But I thought you said you didn’t-”

“I didn’t. Not then. But I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“I saw a cat come back from the dead today.”

“Okay.” Phil sat back. “I like cats, too, honey, but I don’t think that qualifies as a sign.”

“Just listen. I ran over the cat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Let me finish,” she said. “I got out and checked on it, but it was dead. Then this little girl who was watching came over and touched it, and it was alive again. Just like that.”

He scowled. “Children shouldn’t be allowed to play with divine favor.”

“The point is that she was able to save a life. And I thought, if a little girl can save a cat, what could I do with that kind of power? And I thought maybe you were right. It’s not the gods. It’s what we choose to do with their gifts.”

“So now you want to do it? The god thing?”

“Yes,” she said. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not something to take lightly, and maybe I’ll change my mind later. But it can’t hurt to look, I suppose.”

Phil hesitated.

“It was your idea in the first place,” she said.

“True.” He shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt to look.”

And now, six hours later, here they were back on Pantheon, trying to find the god for them.

They ran through dozens more. Teri found a reason to disqualify most of them, and the few she did approve of didn’t suit Phil. Choosing a god wasn’t as simple as he’d first thought. All the really useful gods were in high demand, and they knew it. And the more powerful a deity, the more demanded of his followers. You had to pass a credit check to merely look at Zeus’s profile, and Tyr demanded you cut off one of your hands as a show of devotion if you wanted full benefits. And that was if you were even accepted in the first place. Some gods wanted blood. Others wanted money. Most wanted blood and money. But there were other costs. Vows of silence, poverty, chastity, ruthlessness, and so on. There was always a price, even for the most minor and inconsequential of divine favors, and Phil and Teri found they weren’t usually willing to pay it.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. He was about to suggest that they just abandon their quest when Teri chimed in.

“This one looks interesting. Luka, god of prosperity and good fortune.”

“He has a raccoon head,” remarked Phil. “I thought you didn’t want one with an animal head.”

“No, I didn’t want one with a jackal head. I can live with a raccoon head.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Raccoons are cute.”

“Raccoons are vermin,” he countered. “And they can carry disease.”

She glared at him, and he realized he didn’t know why he was arguing. Aside from the odd head, Luka stood tall, lean, and proud. He wore long rainbow-colored robes and had a Chinese-style hat on. Phil didn’t know the name for it, but it was one of those hats that the emperor’s advisers always wore in the kung fu movies. Luka’s hands were tucked into his loose sleeves, and he was smiling. Many of the lesser gods they’d seen today had been smiling, too. But there had been a quiet desperation hidden underneath, a neediness that Phil had found off-putting. Luka’s smile seemed genuine.

She clicked the PLAY button for his video.

“Is it on?” Luka looked over the camera. “It is? It’s on? Cool.” He smoothed his robes and adjusted his hat. “Hi, I’m Luka, god of prosperity and good fortune. I… uh… what am I supposed to say?”

Someone offscreen mumbled a reply.

“I really hate these things.” Luka frowned. “Let’s be honest here. You don’t care about what I like or don’t. You just want to know what I can give you and what I want in return. I’ve seen better days. Kind of ironic, considering I’m a god of luck.” He chuckled. “All I really need is a fresh start, and maybe that’s all you need, too. I don’t need your blood. None of that animal sacrifice nonsense. You won’t have to mutilate yourself or promise to wear your shoes backward or leave the lid off your trash can. And I’ll admit that I won’t change your life in any big way. Not my thing. I’m more of a serendipity specialist, but the world can turn on a moment, and that’s where I come in. You won’t become king of the universe or be loved by everyone or a super sex god. But if you allow me into your heart and hearth, all I ask for in return is a percentage of the good I help you attain. Say… ten percent? I could maybe go as low as eight. But that’s my bottom line.”

He bowed and stared at the camera for a few seconds.

“Is it still on? Should I say some-”

The video ended.

“I like him,” said Teri.

So did Phil. Most gods were too… godly. So full of themselves. Even the lesser ones had an aura of entitlement, as if you were lucky to have them. But this one seemed different. Luka was regal but relaxed. He seemed refreshingly down-to-earth.

They read the whole profile just to be sure what they were getting into. No blood offerings, weird rituals, or big demands. Just a standard “welcoming into the home” arrangement. They’d expected that. They’d already picked out the corner where they would stick their new idol.

“I think he’s perfect,” said Teri.

Phil was happy to discover a choice he and his wife agreed on. He was also overjoyed that it was finally done. He didn’t feel like scrolling through any more profiles. The site said that Luka was ready, and they met his minimum qualifications. Approval was just a click away.

They pricked their fingers with a needle and prepared to click on the ACCEPT button together.

She studied the blood on her fingertip. “This better not screw up my mouse.”

They clicked the button together. Teri retrieved some paper towels to wipe off the red stain. They spent a few more minutes filling out consent forms and double- and triple-clicking confirmation buttons. With the establishment of the Court of Divine Affairs, worship had become much more paperwork-intensive.

“Do we have to go pick up the idol ourselves?” she asked. “Or do they drop it off as part of the service?”