GODDESSES INC

1

"Welcome to FEM, the originator of divine, semi-divine, and quasi-divine female empowerment and resources. The records department is located on the second floor. The legal department, the third. Find justice on the fifth floor. War is on the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth."

Mnemosyne frowned. Another war floor?

"Love and fertility are on the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth. The grievance department is on the thirteenth. Flora and fauna are on the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth floors. Artifacts and ancient scripts are located in the basement. Consult the Information Desk for all other departments. Thank you for your contributions to humankind. Have a nice day."

FEM. Female Energy Macrocosm. The all too familiar voice floated like a breeze from above. It was melodious, lyrical, rich, and feminine. Utter perfection. Mnemosyne hated it. Even 'quasi-divine' sounded like an achievement.

Mnemosyne strode across the rosy-hued marble lobby, the four-inch heels of her Louboutin's clack-clacking like a woman with places to go. She tossed her head, glossy chestnut hair floating over her shoulders like Aeolis's kiss. The stories about the god of wind were frightfully inadequate!

Mnemosyne stood before a shiny panel next to the gold elevator door, pursed her lips and blew onto the panel. It was breath activated. The entire FEM building. From the security-protected front entrance to the elevator to the water fountain to the lavatories. A breathalyzer for goddesses. It kept them sober. Indulging in a drinking binge with Dionysus the night before wasn't going to open any doors. Garlic breath jammed the system. Raw onions were a no-no. Halitosis! Holy goddess, Shee locked you out of the system for two weeks! Mnemosyne, like all the other goddesses, learned to eat their favorite breath-fouling foods after a visit to FEM headquarters.

Mnemosyne—pronounced nem-o-seen-ee—glanced about and saw Inna rounding the corner. The Nigerian goddess of the harvest, promises, and justice, looked fabulous as always.

"Mnemosyne." Inna adjusted the ten-strand coral bead necklace that hung like an orange waterfall over her body-hugging striped dress. "Good to see you. It's been a long time."

They cheek kissed. The right cheek only.

"Ages," said Mnemosyne.

"What brings you here?"

Mnemosyne crouched down, her blue-flowered Valentino pencil skirt stretching across her thighs and flicked off a speck of lint from the tip of her Louboutins. "Shee emailed me."

Shee. The CEO of FEM. Nobody messed with Shee. Nobody wanted to either.

"Emailed?" Inna's dark brown eyes widened a mere fraction of an inch.

Mnemosyne straightened up, smoothed her skirt. "I thought it was strange too."

Usually Shee or FEM sent messages the old school way. Via birds. Not carrier pigeons. Shee, or her secretary, spoke through a bird's twitters. Not the social media platform. Real birds. Naturally, no one understood it except goddesses. It's one way to identify a goddess. A woman who suddenly stands motionless during a particularly musical birdsong was probably translating a message from Shee.

Inna stepped close, lowered her voice. "A real email?"

Mnemosyne adjusted the cuffs of her blue silk blouse. "That's what I said."

Inna put her hands on her hips. "What did the email say...if you don't mind me asking." The tiniest vertical line appeared between her eyebrows. But only for a third of a second. Maybe less.

Mnemosyne looked past Inna to the lobby beyond. Everyone went about their business. Not one goddess appeared troubled or miserable.

Mnemosyne had always liked Inna, although they were miles apart. Not geographically but in terms of status. Mnemosyne considered herself to be ever so much more important. "Your presence is required."

"That's it?" Inna's eyes brightened with curiosity.

Mnemosyne nodded. That was it. Pretty innocuous. It could be about a multitude of reasons. Her free-spirited daughters for one.

"Interesting." Inna's slim hand slipped into her Dolce & Gabbana leopard-print tote and tugged out a pricy bottle of Swiss Mountain water. "Dilution?"

"Thank you, you're a gem." Mnemosyne drank it down. Carefully. So her lipstick did not smear.

Purification by water was not necessary, but Shee always sensed when a goddess's body was not properly hydrated and therefore less fluid in thought and deed. Flow, it was de rigueur in the goddess business. Which was pretty ironic since the phrase actually meant unyielding and inflexible. FEM's hypocrisies mirrored that of the world.

Mnemosyne capped the lid, tossed it in the nearby receptacle. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous and divine." Inna smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. A fake smile.

The elevator door opened.

Mnemosyne stepped inside, turned around, and spoke to the voice-activated ceiling. "Shee."

FEM installed all the latest technology.

Inna wiggled her fingers into a wave. "By the way, you're not the only one who received an email."

Mnemosyne's brows shot up. "Did you—"

The door slid closed with vault-like finality.

Mnemosyne's stomach gurgled with worry. I'm not the only one? Is this a good or bad thing?

The email summons meant Shee wanted a digital footprint. Which was odd, because Shee didn't like leaving any kind of footprint. Carbon or otherwise.

Mnemosyne tapped her foot impatiently. The elevator music was anything but comforting. Lyres, aulos, and kitharas melodies designed to infuse her Greek soul with the spirit of her people were neither soothing nor inspiring today. Mnemosyne closed her eyes, let the music wash over her. Nope. Didn't work this time.

Mnemosyne checked her reflection in the mirrored elevator and preened. Not a day over thirty. Immortality was divine!

The door swished open on the top floor. As usual, her breath caught. Leave it to Shee to hire the world's best architect. A woman, naturally. The optical illusion stole your breath, even a goddess's.

The aerial panorama offered an eagle's eye view. On a smog-free day, a visitor saw from the mountains to the sea. It was a Mount Olympus view.

Mnemosyne stepped out onto the plexiglass corridor. That step alone was proof of faith since the ground was a thousand feet below. The dramatic. Shee embraced it with every atom of her nebulous being. From architecture to miracles to disasters.

Mnemosyne pivoted on her spike heels and headed right. Right. Always right. Because Shee was always right, because goddesses were all about rights and doing the right thing. Mnemosyne moved carefully across the clear floor—a sensation like walking on air—and strode toward the only office on the top floor.

Platinum doors glided silently into the walls.

This one is new.

A bald young woman looked up from the pink granite desk. "Shee is waiting for you."

The CEO of FEM appointed the most stunning goddesses in-training as her assistants. Each with a most otherworldly beauty. Were they semi or quasi divine? No one knew or cared much. This one was bare-faced and glowing with health, a caramel-colored knit sweater clinging like a second skin to her curvaceous body. The kind of woman even a heterosexual woman would eagerly get down on her knees for to—

Mnemosyne lifted her haughty chin. "I am—"

Another platinum door to the right (always the right) glided open.

Mnemosyne feared nothing. She was Mnemosyne. A goddess. A very important goddess. So why did the Swiss Mountain water feel like a roiling hot mineral spring in her belly?

Mnemosyne sashayed forward with the fluid, easy stride of purpose and power. Until her heel snagged on the silk Isfahan carpet. It broke her perfect gait for a tenth of a second.

Not. Good.