Eternity is a really, really long time. Especially when you've already finished all your work.
Heaven was quiet. It wasn't the nice kind of quiet you get when you finally lie down in bed after a long day. It was the heavy, suffocating quiet of an empty waiting room where the clock has stopped ticking.
The sky was a perfect gold. The clouds were perfect white fluffs. The temperature was a perfect seventy-two degrees.
It was awful.
At the center of all this perfection sat Atunm, the God of Creation.
He was slouching on his throne. Actually, "slouching" was too polite. He was practically sliding off it. One leg was draped over the armrest, and he was balancing a ball of holy light on the tip of his finger, spinning it lazily.
Spin. Stop. Spin. Stop.
Below him, angels and lesser gods tiptoed around. They walked softly, spoke in whispers, and tried very hard not to look at him. They thought he was meditating on the complex fabric of the multiverse.
He wasn't.
Atunm was just bored out of his mind.
He had built universes. He had smashed them. He had watched species evolve from bacteria into space-faring empires, and then watched them blow themselves up. He had seen every story, heard every prayer, and predicted every outcome. It was like watching the same movie for a billion years straight.
Atunm stopped spinning the ball of light. He let it dissolve into nothingness.
"I need a fun trip," he muttered.
The whisper shouldn't have been loud, but in the absolute silence of Heaven, it sounded like a gunshot.
The music of the spheres cut out. The clouds stopped moving. Every god within a hundred miles froze mid-step.
Atunm sat up properly. His back cracked—a sound that echoed like thunder.
"I've decided," he announced to the empty air. "I'm going on vacation."
For a moment, nobody moved. The angels stared. The gods gaped.
Then, total chaos broke out.
"WHAT?!"
The scream came from everywhere at once.
It was like kicking a beehive. The God of War jumped up so fast he knocked over a table of wine. The Goddess of Wisdom dropped her favorite book. A minor weather god started hyperventilating, causing it to rain inside the hall.
"A vacation?!" someone shrieked. "Where? There is nowhere but here!" "You mean… Midguard? In the mortal realm?"
Atunm looked down at them with dead, tired eyes. "Yes. Downstairs."
The gods looked at each other in sheer terror. They knew something Atunm didn't seem to care about: He was too big.
If the God of Gods, God of Creation, walked around a normal planet, his mere presence would be like trying to fit a blue whale into a bathtub. The bathtub would break. Gravity would collapse. Reality would snap in half.
Zelos, the God of Games, ran forward. He looked like a nervous accountant.
"My Lord! Please! We can entertain you here!" Zelos pleaded, sweating gold dust. "I have new simulations! We can play… uh… 50-dimensional chess! Or… or hide and seek across the galaxy!"
Atunm sighed. "I would find you in three seconds, Zelos. You always hide behind the nebula."
Zelos wilted.
"Music!" another god yelled. "We will play a song that lasts a thousand years!"
"I'd rather not," Atunm said flatly.
Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love & Lust kneel front of Atunm.
"My Lord, I can arrange the most beautiful goddesses, Angels for you to play. There is nothing there. They are dirty, ugly, and full of greed."
He stood up. The floor trembled.
"I don't want perfection, I don't want physical pleasure," Atunm said, walking down the steps of his throne. "I'm sick of perfection. I want dirt. I want noise. I want surprises. I want to go somewhere where people don't know who I am."
The gods turned pale. A god walking among mortals without them knowing? That wasn't just dangerous; it was apocalyptic.
"If you go," the Goddess of Wisdom whispered, clutching her chest, "the universe you visit might not survive your weight."
Atunm stopped. He looked at them.
"Then find me a cheap one," he said. "Find me a world that doesn't matter; I am okay with it. And believe me, I won't destroy it."
The emergency meeting of the gods took exactly five minutes. They huddled around a glowing map of the cosmos, looking for a trash can.
They needed a planet that was already broken. A place so messed up that if Atunm accidentally deleted it, the rest of the universe wouldn't miss it.
"Here," said the Record Keeper, pointing to a dim, ugly little star system. "The Annwn Universe."
He zoomed in on a blue and green rock.
"Earth," the Keeper said. "It's a disaster zone. They had a magical awakening fifty years ago, and they've been fighting ever since. Monsters everywhere. Dimensional cracks leaking mana. The planet is barely holding itself together."
The Goddess of Wisdom nodded grimly. "It's perfect. It's already ruined. If the Lord breaks it, we can just record it as a natural disaster."
They turned back to Atunm.
"We have found a spot, my Lord," the Goddess said. "But... there are rules."
Atunm raised an eyebrow. "Rules?"
"You have to limit yourself," she said quickly. "You have to seal away your all-knowing power. You have to experience time like a human—one second after another. No cheating. No looking at the end of the book."
Atunm paused. To not know what happens next? To actually be surprised?
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Deal."
"And," the War God added, snapping his fingers, "you need babysitters. I mean… assistants."
Two gods were shoved forward.
One was Tyche, the Goddess of Luck. She looked like a high-powered secretary who was visibly calculating her chances of Earth survival (currently 0%). The other was Asclepius, the God of Healing. He was clutching a first-aid kit and looked like he was about to throw up.
"Let's go," Atunm said.
He didn't wait for them to pack. He just snapped his fingers.
The transition wasn't graceful.
It felt like being shoved through a straw. Atunm felt his infinite self being squeezed, crunched, and compressed into a tiny, fleshy vessel.
Pop.
Atunm opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelled like burnt rubber, old garbage, and wet dog.
He took a deep breath. "Gross," he said.
He loved it.
He looked around. He was standing on a sidewalk in a gray, gritty city. The sky was choked with smog. Tall, cracked buildings loomed over him. The noise was incredible—sirens wailing, people shouting, cars honking.
"We made it," a voice squeaked behind him.
Asclepius was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, looking green. Tyche was furiously tapping on a tablet, checking the local danger levels.
"This is Earth," Tyche said, wrinkling her nose. "Sector 4. Poverty level: High. Hygiene: Non-existent. My Lord, we should move to a luxury hotel immediately. I can rig the lottery so we have funds."
"No," Atunm said.
He looked at his hands. They were pale and human. He poked his own arm. It was soft.
He looked at the people rushing past him. Humans. They looked tired. They looked angry. They were ignoring him completely.
"They don't see me," Atunm whispered. "I'm standing right here, and nobody cares."
"That's the point, sir," Asclepius whispered back. "Please keep your voice down. If you get angry, you might accidentally blow up the moon."
Atunm ignored him. He stepped off the curb, eager to explore this chaotic little world.
SCREEECH!
A yellow taxi slammed its brakes, stopping inches from Atunm's knees.
The window rolled down. A red-faced man with a thick neck leaned out.
"Are you blind?!" the driver screamed.
Atunm blinked. He stared at the man.
"Get out of the road, you moron!" the driver bellowed. "You wanna die?!"
Silence.
On the sidewalk, Asclepius stopped breathing. Tyche covered her eyes.
This was it. The end of the world. A mortal had just called the Creator of All Things a "moron."
"He... he yelled at Him," Asclepius whimpered. "We're dead. We're all dead."
Atunm just stood there. He wasn't angry. He was confused. And then... fascinated.
"Move it!" the driver yelled.
When Atunm didn't move, the driver grabbed a half-empty soda can from his dashboard and chucked it out the window.
THUNK.
It hit Atunm right in the forehead.
The plastic bottle bounced off his head and rolled into the gutter, leaking sticky brown soda onto the street.
The driver revved his engine, swerved around the stunned God, and sped off, flipping the bird out the window. "Freak!"
Silence returned to the street.
Asclepius was shaking so hard his teeth rattled. "Lord... Lord Atunm... please, have mercy. He's just a bug! A stupid, ignorant bug! Don't vaporize the planet!"
Atunm reached up. He touched his forehead. A little bit of sticky soda was on his finger.
He looked at the sticky mess. Then he looked at the retreating taxi.
He didn't summon a lightning bolt. He didn't erase the city.
The corner of his mouth twitched up.
"He threw garbage at me," Atunm whispered.
He started to laugh. It wasn't a scary laugh. It was a genuine, delighted chuckle.
"He didn't pray. He didn't bow. He hit me with a can." Atunm wiped his hand on his shirt, grinning like a kid who just found a new toy. "I love this place."
Tyche lowered her hands, looking confused. "You... you do?"
"Yes," Atunm said. His eyes flashed with a blue light. "It's so... rude. It's perfect."
The ground beneath them rumbled. Not from an earthquake, but from power waking up.
Above the city, invisible to everyone but them, a massive blue screen flickered into the sky.
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZING... ] [ ADMINISTRATOR FOUND. ] [ WELCOME TO THE EARTH. ]
Atunm kicked the soda can down the street.
"Alright," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's Go!"