A Simply Divine Commission

“I have one question,” Magnolia asked. “Will this wear off?”

“Of course,” Zem told her. “I didn’t make it permanent. That would be useless.”
spoke up as she and Zem made their way out through the Galaxy Casino.

He sounded surprised, as if only an idiot would have metamorphosed these two men into herd animals once and for all, and by her question she was suggesting he was not quite bright. Magnolia pondered, as best she was equipped to, the ways and means of divine beings, and went to answer another knock on the door. She’d spent three hours, so far, running interference between the boys and their staff, making up lies as to why they couldn’t be seen, not even for a moment, while she, Las Vegas’ mayor, was somehow available to answer doors and phone calls and send people away.

Meanwhile, inside the office, the two casino bosses baa-ed and bumped around the office and ate paperwork Magnolia was sure they’d miss later.

“I have one more question,” she said sometime later, as she and Zem made their way out through the casino, after the boys were transformed back and Zem had lectured them severely about how quickly he’d do it all over again if they annoyed him, and to meanwhile stop munching on phone cords.

“What’s the question?” Zem asked. He sounded amused, this time. A good day’s work, well done, his smile seemed to say.

“Where have you been all this time? I mean, have you been going around for generations, turning men into farm animals when they pissed you off, and the world’s just never heard of it? How do you hide things like that?”

She’d been wondering this for quite awhile.

“I’ve been sleeping a lot,” he answered.

Magnolia turned to stare at him while they walked. Ahead of them, her small detail of security guards and assistants, four men and two women with headsets, dedicated to clearing her path wherever she went and keeping her in touch with city hall, should they need her for anything, smoothly moved gamblers out of the way so she and Zem could get through the Galaxy unimpeded. Magnolia spared a brief moment to smile to right and left, and marveled at the way she’d been neglecting her public image since Zem’s appearance in her office.

He shrugged. An elderly gambler stepped slowly, eager to let him pass but unable to move quickly enough, and he smiled at her and steadied her elbow. She beamed at him, every steel-gray hair and liver spot glowing. Magnolia looked around at the other faces, and saw awe everywhere. Even without trying to show off, Zem was the center of attention.

“Sleeping?” she prompted.

“More or less,” he agreed. He smiled vaguely off into the crowd that was gathering as they went. Magnolia had seen it happen every time they walked in public. “I don’t exactly need to sleep,” he went on, “but sometimes years pass and there’s no reason to go out into the world. I can retreat, and ignore things if I want.”

“How useful,” she murmured.

He shrugged again. “The world gets boring, sometimes.”

“When it’s not worshiping you?” she suggested. She quirked a smile to suggest she meant it playfully.

He didn’t answer. They reached a side door, and with one last, unfocused glance at his fans, he led the way out.

“I hope that’s the last one,” he said.

“The Boy Scouts? Almost. I’d like to introduce you to a couple of the Downtown guys,” she told him, “But we’ve seen the most important people already. Now it’s time to get the plan together. Nail down the details, how it’s going to work. We’ve discussed a lot of possibilities, so we’ll need firm decisions now. Mostly, what attractions will go where. Then each property can figure out what new construction is needed. That sort of thing. And we don’t have much time.” Zem’s new New Vegas was slated to open for business New Year’s Eve, 2000. They had only slightly more than eight months to get it ready. Usually, these things took years to plan and implement.

“You do that,” he said offhandedly.

Magnolia watched him as he walked beside her. Her driver was wilted with waiting and boredom from his long, eventless day. “Really?” she questioned.

“Yes. I don’t like details. You know what we need.” He waved a hand negligently. “Just design what you want, and I’ll bless it so it’ll work.”

Magnolia’s thoughts tried to race but couldn’t get in gear. “But– don’t we need anything special? I mean, we talked about a temple of healing at the Foursquare– wouldn’t that need some facilities for medical care or examinations, at least? And blessings– do we need storage, or is there some holy mechanism for giving the supplicants what they ask for?” She walked around the car and fumbled for the door handle.

“No. Just make each place look good. My blessing will take care of everything. You’re thinking like a human,” he said as they both slid onto the hot seat. One of the mayor’s pledges in the last election was that she wouldn’t waste the citizens’ money by having her car run its air conditioning all day and night when she wasn’t in it. She’d deal with the heat just like a normal person. She’d regretted that grandstanding as soon as an unseasonable hot spell hit the next April. She’d been through three drivers already.

“Think like a god,” Zem told her. “The temples aren’t practical. They’re just marketing. It’s about style. It’s about appearance.”

“So I shouldn’t worry about functionality at all?”

“Functionality?” He asked as if the very word were beneath his notice, a cockroach scuttling through the Palace of Versailles, far too ignoble to merit outright attention.

Magnolia slid down till the top of her blond head rested on the sticky vinyl, her favorite position for thinking. “Hm...” she chewed her lip. “How did miracles work, two thousand years ago? I mean,” she squinted at Zem, “What did your worshipers actually have to do, to earn your indulgence?”

He was looking out the window. She’d noticed him doing that before, how he’d fasten on the passers-by and watch them. His face would be blank, but she thought of his look as hungry. Without turning, he shrugged. “Usually,” he answered, “life for them was so short, and there was so much action among the lower gods, that anybody who even got to the temple to ask for a favor merited attention. It didn’t happen that often. People weren’t so demanding of their gods, then.”

“I’ll bet,” Magnolia agreed. She, too, stared out the window on her side. “So we’ll just have to make them prove their worth,” she muttered. A smile began to spread across her face. “We’ll make them do a few tricks.”

She slid down farther in the seat, till she was looking almost straight up at the hotel towers and big facades they drove past. A scheme was beginning to form in her head. A network of temples, a web of holy places pulling the pilgrims all through Vegas and back where they’d started...

She grinned to herself. “The world won’t know what hit it,” she said.

On his side of the car, Zem regarded her.

No, it won’t, he didn’t say.

NEXT POST: GO EAST, YOUNG SHOWGIRL! (Monday 9/28)