thrice great hermes
by stanley lieber
hermes woke up in the back of an ambulance, headed to who knows where. after confirming all of his constituents were intact, he saved his game and switched cartridges. he’d pick this up again later.
sl was tormenting him. his vestments were ill-fitting. hermes had a lot of complaints.
and gods didn’t ask permission.
here he was back in the ambulance. they were taking him somewhere because he had been injured. nevertheless, he had a message to deliver.
at the hospital, a boy was making a fuss in the waiting room. his grandmother was dying. he was, understandably, upset. but he was also too young to be allowed into intensive care. he was making a fuss because the nurses wouldn’t let him in to see his grandmother, and nobody was doing anything about it. hermes could see the injustice of the situation, but rules were rules.
gods were made of rules—although, sometimes rules could be bent.
hermes delivered his message. the boy gradually calmed down, though not until he had been physically removed from the premises. hermes considered his task completed, and left.
violet steered her ambulance around to the garage. it was her turn to wash the unit, and all she wanted to do was sleep. once she finished with the water hose she drug herself into the ambulance base and laid down on her cot, without even bothering to take off her hat and shoes. she’d sleep until the end of her shift, barring any more runs.
at 07:00 she woke up, splashed water on her face, and drove herself home. it was time to take the boy to school.