SCENE 13:
The statue garden. Most of the statues are not in classical repose, but rather look like they were solidified in the midst of something important, and they probably were.

Zeus: I hardly need to ask whether you will do your part in reattaining the glory of the Gods. Clearly anything that involves me is in direct opposition to your plans, no matter if I am right or not.

Hera: Perhaps, but in this case you happen to be wrong, so I scarcely see a conflict of interest. Maybe if you were to suddenly engage yourself in something wholly beneficial I would be tempted to abandon my usual antagonism.

Zeus: I dislike you contradicting me in front of the other gods. You are my wife, and should hardly be the one to question me.

Hera: (laughing to herself) Fine. I’m not going to fight you.

Zeus: You are always ready to fight me when there is an audience around. Why now that everyone is gone are you so reticent and humble?

Hera: If we are in council, then I am certainly not going to let you dismiss our entire lifestyles and consideration for humankind because you don’t understand it. And I am damned if I will let you chastise the other gods for being on earth and having done their work for thousands of years while you played with Oceanids on Olympus. That is important, but it is not important to me to sit here and argue with you just so you can feel sorry for yourself for having chosen such a shrewish wife. Find someone else to play your mind games, because I am no longer concerned with such trivialities.

Zeus: And what do you do on Earth, that is so important and meaningful?

Hera: Currently, I’m in a rather high position in a bank that I have spent various lifelines building into a worldwide financial empire. So much so, that I don’t think you’ll get very far with the humans without my tacit approval.

Zeus: Is that a threat?

Hera: It is an observation. I have not brought it up to the other gods, because I feared they would take me for an idle boast, as you obviously do. But I have studied the human way, since the beginning, and I have been instrumental in the formation of corporations, which are, after all, merely marriages without the sex. Sorry, you probably don’t even know what a corporation is.

Zeus: I do pay attention to what is going on in Earth, probably more so than you would care to find out. I know, for instance, that Aphrodite’s accusations regarding your sexual proclivities are quite accurate.

Hera: It never stopped you, their being humans. Nor did it ever bother you to commit adultery, so spare me your lectures.

Zeus: I have no patience for lectures. I am interested in something else, something that only you can give. You see, divine law is very specific about marriages, and of course the law of marriages stems from the Goddess of Marriage, which would be you obviously. The entire concept of divorce is unheard of in divine law, and it took the humans to give us an idea of why anyone would need it. But now that it is acceptable on earth, I feel that it would be a welcome addition to the rules of Olympus. The only problem is that as the Goddess of marriage, you can hardly initiate a divorce, even on the grounds of my adultery, because it would jeopardize your godhead. But I would say, that given your own admission of adultery, that I could quite easily sue for divorce, and be granted one.

Hera: (excited) You would do that?

Zeus: No. At least, not yet. You know why I married you, my dear, and right now I need your ambitions blunted more than ever. So, let us say that I am willing to trade for it, that should be good news to someone in the economic industry. Let’s say that you can lead your little band of wayward gods, and I won’t stop you, but you for your part will not take any proactive steps to get in the way of my business. And when I have secured the power that I wish, I will give you the freedom you have always sought.

Hera: You must think me very easily bought.

Zeus: The humans cannot mean so much to you that you would sacrifice the one thing you want more than anything.

Hera: The one thing that I desire you know nothing about. But it is not a divorce from you. I hate to break your gigantic bout of egotism, but I have lived with the wretched curse you placed upon me for so long that I think I will manage to bear that yolk for a few more million years. It has been long said that there is a difference between what is good, and what is right, and in this instance I choose to submit myself to personal indignities if it means that my actions are just.

Zeus: You’ve been reading too many philosophers.

Hera: I detest philosophy, and I ordinarily am not particularly fond of morals. But as you referred to divine law earlier, well, I too am bound by that, and the need to do what is right is my acceptance of the path the Fates have laid before me. You could offer me a thousand rewards, but I can take nothing without losing their favor, and I will not be accursed by them.

Zeus: Have you conferred with them already?

Hera: No, I know their will for me. Surely you must feel their hand guiding you in your decisions.

Zeus: Never. They have no power over me.

Hera: I hope for your sake that is true.

Zeus: Of course it is true, I was the one God that was able to trick them. I threw Cronos and his kind into Tartarus, which was also something the Fates never agreed to, and I have ruled the other Gods, no matter who they are, since my ascent to the Kingship.

Hera: Do you really think you are so clever that you can do what no one else could, or were you just lucky that no one else was corrupt enough to try?

Zeus: It must destroy you that however much you hate me, I will always be better and stronger and more popular than you are. Poor little Hera, the laughingstock of the Gods.

Hera: How dare you say that? You don’t even know, you have no idea what you are talking about. You are so full of shit!

Zeus: And here we have the woman I recognize, all emotion and frivolity, pure vitriol, blaming everyone else for your inadequacies.

Hera: If you think that my anger necessarily equates with me being out of control, you are sorely mistaken. But then, it always fooled you before. Too bad you understand people so ill, else you might be able to manipulate them as much as you think you do.

Zeus: Why would I try to manipulate you, my darling, everything you have is mine by rights of marriage anyway.

Hera: Fine, take my sense of humor and look at yourself in a mirror. You will never understand the patience I have, putting up with you for even a day.

Zeus: And yet I offer you to chance to rid yourself of my foul airs forever, but you are too proud to take it. Yes, too proud, do not pretend to me that it is anything else, and it is pride that the Fates will strike down more than anything, pride that will take you to your ruin more than anything I could ever devise. It will be refreshing to watch you drown in the anger of the Fates, and me not having to lift a finger. I cannot think of anything more satisfying.

Hera: I hope you do enjoy that thought, because it will never happen. And if one of us comes out laughing – this time, it will be me. (she spins on her heel and walks out).

SCENE 14:
Demeter’s bedroom. Crammed with flowers and fruits, the bounty of the earth, the primary color scheme is the deep golden of grain. Demeter sits at her dressing table, trying her hair in various fashions while Hestia reclines in a chair.

Demeter: It’ll be nice to have a party with everyone.

Hestia: I suppose. I’ve never been the celebratory type.

Demeter: But you know how much it means to me. I mean, you have Prometheus, you don’t have to worry about finding a companion anymore. I’m just so tired of being always a single mother of someone who’s happily married. It’s not like it’s interesting, being the Goddess of grain. Who came up with that? How come all of our powers are so shit?

Hestia: Your cad ex-boyfriend, as I recall. Seemed to want his children to have more important Godheads than we had, so they’d always be on his side. Hasn’t worked very well, has it?

Demeter: Don’t you think, I mean… aren’t you even a little curious to find out if we could be worshipped again?

Hestia: I’m afraid my heyday as a goddess was prehistory, so I don’t really remember it all that well. By the time you lot were at the height of your powers, I was past it.

Demeter: They still respected you.

Hestia: (getting up and perching over Demeter) Yes, but they respected you as well. You must never forget that, my dear, that you meant something to a great many people, and still do. Don’t give up on yourself just yet.

Demeter: I’m not, it just seems as though our choices are so slim. I feel as though I’ve exhausted all of the possibilities of Olympus. We all know each other too well.

Hestia: Still, don’t you believe that people can change? Take Hades, for instance. Little brother went from being this painfully introverted loner to a man happily in love to a conscientious father.

Demeter: Yes, I just wish he had found someone else besides my daughter. They love each other, though, you’re right about that. A rare thing, not only here but on earth.

Hestia: You must have fallen in love in at least one of your lifelines.

Demeter: No. In every single one of them. I’ve been married, what, a hundred times, happily, and they die, and I can visit their spirits in Hades and the look on their faces when they discover they’ve married a High Goddess, and we won’t be spending the afterlife together… I wish I could be as happily single as Athena.

Hestia: I do not know that she is happy. But who am I to say, I will never understand that particular branch of the family. Most of Zeus’ children seem rather frivolous to me. They were always more concerned with their own place as Gods to worry about how they could use their powers for the betterment of the world.

Demeter: Not all of them. Apollo’s very serious about the humans.

Hestia: Usually. But he also has a habit of flaking out and partying with the boys. You can’t tell me you forget the noise when the four of them would come round at four in the morning, banging on everyone’s door and asking where we’d hidden the Oceanids.

Demeter: (looking a bit sad and embarrassed) Sometimes they would settle for a high Goddess.

Hestia: You didn’t.

Demeter: Oh, what else was there to do? And it’s not as if I was the only Goddess who was fucking Hermes. Or Ares. Or Apollo or Dionysus, for that matter, but especially Hermes, I think he ‘messengered’ his way into everyone’s bedroom besides yours.

Hestia: I sometimes wonder how much I missed out on being married to someone I wanted to stay faithful to. I don’t think I’ve ever even kissed anyone besides Prometheus.

Demeter: You should, just to make him jealous.

Hestia: I’ve absolutely no reason to do that. I’ve got what I want out of my place in life, and I feel guilty about that, since it doesn’t appear that either of my dear sisters have been given such blessings.

Demeter: I wouldn’t worry about Hera, she’ll get what she needs eventually. And as for me, I just need to figure out which one of the boys I’ll be asking home tonight.

Hestia: (laughing) Why not all four of them? (Demeter’s face lights up for a moment, then she recognizes Hestia is teasing)

Demeter: I’m not that kind of a fertility goddess, thank you.

SCENE 15:
The library – a house of scrolls, books, cuneiform tablets – all old, all looking thoroughly unused since the departure of the host to earth. Hephaestus has come here, the only place on Olympus he feels at home. He is in the midst of research, when Athena walks in looking distracted. They do not notice each other until she consults the catalog and his table is in her way.

Athena: Sorry, didn’t realize you were here.

Hephaestus: You don’t have to go on my account.

Athena: No, I wasn’t going to leave. The library is big enough for the both of us.

Hephaestus: I didn’t know it had to be.

Athena: Sorry?

Hephaestus: Were you avoiding me for any particular reason?

Athena: No, I just thought, you being… I didn’t mean to be rude.

Hephaestus: Apparently I kept missing you at the Christmas shindigs, I’m not much for get togethers.

Athena: Nor I. I only went to a dozen of them perhaps. I was never made to feel very welcome.

Hephaestus: Most of the other Gods feel that you dislike them.

Athena: Utterly ridiculous drivel invented by Hera to continue her senseless revenge on me for having received the love of her husband. I pity you having her as a mother.

Hephaestus: Actually, she was an exceptional mother.

Athena: Well. (having nothing to say, she turns aside to find her book)

Hephaestus: I don’t suppose you would ever admit your loathing toward her is every bit as strong as what you suggest she feels about you?

Athena: I am proud of how much I detest her. It keeps me focused on what not to be.

Hephaestus: And yet you are both consumed, in equal portions, by pride and resentment. Irony is such a powerful thing.
(Athena looks ready to explode and walks away, Hephaestus chuckles to himself)