Down below the little schmo heard thunder rolling across the cloudless sky of burning blue, but no sound came from his parched lips.
The rejuvenated god thundered off, literally, leaving the young god staring after him. Still he had no answer.
He walked, his head bowed, wondering what to do next – wondering if he should even bother. But he couldn’t shake that thin voice out of his mind, it seemed so important. Deep in thought, the young god almost knocked a bustling god off his feet:
“Oi – watch where you’re putting those big sandals!” he snarled, glaring at the young god over a stack of finely scripted crystal tablets.
“Sorry. Oh, those are very nice. Are they new? All the tablets I’ve seen are thick and made of stone…” said the young god, admiringly.
“Of course they’re new – when last did you actually see a tablet? We can’t very well send new technology down there without upping our own game, can we?” tutted the laden god.
“Absolutely,” agreed the young god. Then, realising that he’d found someone that seemed to know things, he asked:
“I heard a voice asking about food – do you know what that is? Is it something that we do?”
Sighing loudly, the god put down his stack of thin crystal tablets, rubbed his back and, pursing his lips thoughtfully, replied:
“Hmmmm – I’ve heard about that before. Now, I’m involved in Holy Resources and it’s not our department at all, but you might try Terrestrial Development. It’s just after Ancestors and Archives, then turn left at the Amnesia stores.”
“Thanks. Oh, er – what are the Amnesia stores exactly?”
“Ha ha – you’d think we’d given you a bit. It’s where we store something we developed aeons ago… we splice it into each one before it’s born … wipes out any residual recall so they can’t remember any lessons from their species’ past.” He nodded solemnly at the young god:
“We have to, you know. If they ever manage (as a bunch) to learn anything from one generation to the next – well, they’d be in charge of their own destinies. And we can’t have that, can we?”