rayaso

Idol 2018-19 Mini-Season
Week 16
Topic: Inkling

LETHE

Lethe entered the restaurant, took off her hat, ran her fingers through her hair, and promptly forgot why she was there. “Not again!” she groaned to herself. But she knew what to do next: look at her wrist. “Thank god for the invention of ink,” she thought. Lethe always wrote reminders of her errands on herself for embarrassing times like these – at least she had a clue about what to do next.

“Tall dark handsome broken heart” was all it said, but it was enough. She began to scan the room for an attractive, dark-haired man with the hang-dog look of someone who had recently been dumped by a lover. Tall would have to wait, since everyone in the restaurant was seated.

Only one person met that description, and he was seated by himself. He was scowling and jabbing hard on his phone. “Probably the tenth text today,” thought Lethe. “Borderline stalker.”

He definitely needed her services, but first she had to adjust her appearance. She was wearing a vintage Hermes gown, white fabric with a gold belt. “Classic Greek goddess,” Hermes had said when he had fitted her. She always thought it odd that Zeus’s messenger worked as a fashion designer.

“We all had to find new jobs,” he had once said. “This one pays well and keeps me in nymphs. You should talk – look at what you do.”

Since animal sacrifices and tributes of gold had disappeared long ago, Lethe needed an alternative -- money, and lots of it. Even semi-retired, being a goddess was expensive. After all, there were standards that simply had to be maintained.

Her services were not cheap. She knew she had made an odd choice, but this was only until Zeus returned and she regained her rightful place.

Lethe looked every inch the goddess, but mortals could not tolerate such divine beauty, so her outward appearance changed according to her needs. Currently, she looked like a generic grandmother, someone able to dispense caring wisdom to a young man tortured by the loss of his latest true love.

But Lethe did not have such wisdom, and frankly she didn’t care. That was Aphrodite’s department.

“She gets them into trouble, she can get them out,” thought Lethe. “I’m here to help . . . .” She really couldn’t remember, but she knew that the man at the table was her client, and that was enough.

For Lethe, ex-lovers were predictable – they only wanted to talk about their lost loves. “Is there anything as boring as mixing alcohol with a broken heart?” thought Lethe. Her client was clearly in Stage 2 of grief: stupidly drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Stage 3 was believing that anyone really cared. Still, human pain was money and that was good enough.

“I hope he isn’t a writer,” she thought. “They just won’t shut up!”

Millenia of divine existence had extinguished whatever compassion she might have had for the lovelorn, or pretty much any human condition.

“Better find my client and get this over with,” thought Lethe.

Her memory problems made these meetings awkward, but she knew it was her own fault. “I’ve really got to stop touching my head!”

Lethe walked up to the man’s table, doing her best imitation of a seventy-year-old-grandmother-with-arthritis shuffle and trying to smile benignly. She was thoroughly unconvincing, but to a drunken forlorn lover, it was good enough.

“I’m not getting paid for acting,” she thought as she put her business card on the table. It was tasteful and expensive: “Lethe Services, Inc. ‘Forget Your Troubles’.”

Lethe used her standard line when meeting a client she couldn’t remember: “Are you expecting me?”

Coming from a grandmother, if she were wrong, it would be met with a polite, if amused, no; she could then move on and try again. Fortunately, this time her guess was right.

“Please sit down,” said Lucas Daniels, looking up from his telephone. His last message was to his ex-girlfriend, as were the 10 previous texts. This one had reached the accusatory profanity level.

“Great strategy,” thought Lethe, “win her back with foul language and threats.”

She ordered a glass of mead, which the bartender was surprised to find they now stocked. It was a common reaction wherever she dined; no matter what her request, it was always suddenly available.

“I need to get Erica out of my heart,” said Lucas. “We’re soulmates and . . . .”

Lethe tuned him out while she pondered new career moves. None seemed appropriate for a goddess of her talents, and certainly none paid as well.

“. . . and then I caught her in bed with my best friend, and he said ‘dude, she’s so hot . . . .’”

“Time’s up,” she thought. “I can’t take any more.”

“I can help,” said Lethe, abruptly interrupting Lucas. “You’ve already paid my fee, so let’s get down to business. All you need to do is devote all your thoughts to your love and close your eyes.”

She gave him a minute to concentrate, then reached over and touched his head.

With that one little contact, Lethe wiped his memory of Erica, plus a few more that had appeared in Lucas’s brain. He no longer knew where he parked his car, which wasn’t a real problem since he also forgot that he owned one.

“I used to be able to do this from afar with just a few words,” she thought, reaching for the hand sanitizer in her purse. “Why don’t they shower? She broke your heart, but have some self-respect!”

Her powers had ebbed over time and now they only worked by touching the head. Her control was fading as well, since she eliminated the memory of anyone whose head she touched, whether she meant to or not, including her own. Whatever they were thinking about was gone, and gloves offered no protection.

Lucas opened his eyes, which took a minute to focus. A big smile appeared on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “you seem to be at the wrong table.”

“Why, so I am, dearie,” said Lethe, standing up. “I beg your pardon.”

She left, leaving him the check. Mead of that vintage was not cheap.

Lethe put on her hat and left, being careful not to touch her head. She knew her next appointment, at least for now.

It was one of her regulars. Several law firms of dubious reputation kept her on a retainer to deal with inconvenient prosecution witnesses. All she had to do was get them thinking about what they had seen, touch their heads, and the memories were gone. She was more expensive than the usual solution, but the downside was significantly less. No one had ever gone to prison for hiring her.

But there was something else written on her arm, something she did not understand: “big man river midnight.”

“Oh well,” she thought, “if it’s an appointment I can just give a refund.” Lethe hated giving money back. Sometimes if she forgot an appointment, she would just meet the angry client, wipe the memory, and keep the money.

It was late, time to go home and have a bath.

Her loft was tastefully furnished with classic Greek antiquities, but the bath was her true joy. It appealed to the river in her and was modeled after a grotto. It even had a waterfall instead of a shower. Best of all, it cleansed away all her cares, including the ink on her arms, and when she washed her hair, the memory of her awful day among the mortals would fade away. She would start fresh in the morning after a good night’s sleep.

Lethe rarely remembered her dreams; sometime during the night she would always touch her head. But this time she awoke with a start – she suddenly remembered what she had written on her arm and who the big man was.

Three thousand years ago, Gaia, the goddess mother of Earth, had finally grown tired of the antics of the gods and had imprisoned Zeus, their leader, deep underground until he repented and all the gods agreed to drink from Lethe in her river form, erasing their memories and starting anew. Gaia offered this opportunity only once in a thousand years.

Zeus’s stubbornness was legendary, but now he had sent word that he was prepared to do it. He and all the gods were to meet at the River Styx at the foot of Mount Olympus, when the moon reached its highest point in the sky. Only then would Gaia release Zeus and allow him to drink.

“In two minutes,” screamed Lethe, “and I forgot!”

Not even Zeus’s golden chariot could get her there in time.

At that moment, Mount Olympus erupted for the first time in its history.

“Zeus is angry,” thought Lethe, who rarely understated such things.

There was no way out for her. All the gods would be furious. They were condemned to another thousand years of impotence, of existing in a world that neither feared nor revered them.

This was more than Lethe could stand. She prepared another bath, then touched her head. Life was good and she had no worries. She was comforted by the hot water and scented candles.

Suddenly, the inside of her head exploded. All she could see was the word "ATONE," which was etched in her mind in bolts of lightning. For the first time she understood true pain. No matter how many times she touched her head, she could not get rid of it.

Lethe knew she had only one choice.

She put on the best of Hermes’ gowns and draped herself in her favorite jewels. She longed for the help of a water nymph, but knew that the other gods not would give her this comfort.

Outside, no chariot was waiting. The street was not strewn with rose petals. There were no crowds of worshippers crying her name. She, Lethe, the river goddess of forgetfulness, was alone and herself forgotten.

She was forced to take a cab to the ocean’s shore.

“At least there is some beauty here,” she thought, admiring the power of the waves, but her pain would not let her linger.

She found a small stream that flowed into the ocean. Standing at its edge, she removed her jewels and gown, and crying “συγχώρεσέ με”[1] slipped into the creek, merging her essence with it. In a sudden great flood, the River Lethe surged into the ocean and allowed herself to disperse in its vastness, never to exist again.

Visitors to this creek now notice an unusual effect when wading in it. For a brief time, all care passes away and a feeling of comfort comes over them. It is particularly popular with the lovesick.

The stream has no name and does not appear on any maps. It simply flows into the ocean, easily forgotten.

[1] “Forgive me” in Greek, or so says Google Translate.