Godtown

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I hated the sight of gods sitting in a waiting room. For centuries, I watched gods lift order out of chaos, spin atoms in and out of alignment, and generally kick ass. To watch them sit around in a waiting room with a newspaper unfolded on their lap was tantamount to watching paint dry on a cathedral – it missed the point.

This was why I hated the Department of Mystical Validation. The gods in charge of this place possessed just enough humor to name their organization after a similarly frustrating entity in the mortal realm. It had everything you would expect for the DMV – bland walls littered with brochures and public service announcements about the right and wrong way to use conjuring in public. As a result, half a dozen deities sat in hard plastic seats waiting their turn to approach a desk.

Thoth sat at a small desk with as much magnificence as Zeus atop Mount Olympus, ignoring the fact that no matter how tall he sat, shoulders squared and posture erect, he was in fact still sitting on a plastic chair as the rest of us. Thoth waved another god to approach him. He treated the DMV like it was his own personal courtroom, even though the closest thing he had to a bailiff in court was a short round woman with blue hair and pink sunglasses manning the adjacent desk.

I had followed Thoth from Olympus Towers to the DMV, which stood (or rather slumped) right behind City Hall. I reviewed my case all the way to the DMV, even though I wasn't entirely sure what the charges were. I was in the middle of an investigation sanctioned by the Mayor's office. It may have been a stretch, but did I have progress to back up my bluff. I just hoped that would be enough.

I walked through the offices of the DMV, ending in front of Thoth's small gray desk and plastic blue chair. Even though he had been speaking to me the entire commute up here, he still gestured for me to take a number, and then take a seat. I suspected he had already decided on my case the moment I walked through the door.

I scanned the room for the other patrons of the illustrious DMV. At the table, a tall Norseman hammered his fist on the plastic table, which might as well been made out of paper. The Norseman argued an eight-legged horse wouldn't cause a stir in traffic. He also added a few choice words about Thoth. And his mother. And her woman parts. And a few other things I would have preferred not to have heard. Thoth just starred at the man with his beady eyes, but to his credit, remained calm and collected as he jotted things down on his notebook. I'm not sure whatever became of the man's eight-legged horse, as the Norseman stormed off before I could hear more.

Thoth gestured to me to come forward. He acted as if he hadn't spoken to me one hour ago, and I hadn't been sitting there the entire time. Thoth ruled in a vacuum, I realized, like so many other god.

"Where's this com-" I started, but Thoth silenced me with a wave of his hands. He continued jotting something down in his notebook. He didn't look up.

I had to bite my tongue to stop growling, which was a bad habit I had picked up from Cerberus. I looked around the room. Actually, it was the same large room I had been sitting in for over an hour, but Thoth had specifically decorated the front of the room as if it was an office. Several diplomas hung across the back wall. A small bookcase slumped behind him. It was silly. Did he really expect trite pieces of paper nailed to a wall would impress a god? It was one thing to act the part of the mortal, but Thoth placed them in a place of honor, a shrine of credibility at the altar of higher education.

Thoth continued writing in his notebook, his pen scribbling frantically on the page. He gave no indication he saw me sitting in front of him for the next few minutes. I patiently waited. What choice did I have?

"Pelion University," I said, reading the name behind the glass plane. "I have a niece going there."

At least I thought of her as a niece. But truth be told, no one knew where Athena fits into the Olympian family tree. It's hard to judge the relations of a full-grown woman who spills out of your brother's head. She was a sweet girl though.