“Trust me, I’ve searched to the ends of the heavens and earth for her. Places have been disappearing for a while, but it’s only now, when the balance has been widely tipped, that they’ve come to my notice. I believe that the two are connected. And here you are confirming this suspicion. The work you describe... It’s purposeful. You’re taking stock of places that give people joy. And in doing so, I think you’re removing them, which further brings everything out of balance.”
“And then our memories of these places are being erased? From everyone? Across the earth? How is that possible?”
Sophie raised an eyebrow at her.
Aida’s cheeks grew hot. “Gods, yes, that’s right,” she said.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Luciano said. “Why would gods need Happiness Collectors? Why would us writing down details about happiness make things disappear? And if that’s the case, why isn’t Aida’s list also disappearing?”
“It’s in shorthand.” Aida glanced at the notebook on the table in front of her.
Sophie nodded. “It seems the gods haven’t accounted for such ingenuity. Few write in shorthand these days. Your uniquemethod may be why your list hasn’t slipped away like everything else.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” Aida breathed.
“Now then, let’s talk about why the gods need you. As you know, not all gods are benevolent. When Zeus departed during the Age of Stars, he set forth the Preservation of Order, a set of binding rules for those of us who chose not to go or whom he asked to remain.
“The first rule: Gods are not allowed to kill humans directly. The second is that we can influence or guide humans but cannot override their free will. We can nudge them in a particular direction, plant thoughts, or heighten their desires, but the final choice must always be theirs. Still, it’s a small thing—you’d be surprised how easily humans are swayed by what they think they want. The third rule: Once a god has claimed influence over a human, no other god may interfere unless the first god agrees. If a mortal’s fate is being shaped by one of us, the rest must keep their distance—unless we reach an agreement to intervene.
“But influence isn’t the same as ownership,” she continued. “A god can nudge a mortal toward a certain path, but until the mortal actively aligns with them—whether through belief, worship, or true devotion—the claim isn’t absolute. MODA shaped your circumstances, yes. They placed obstacles, guided your choices, and made sure the only doors open to you led back to them. But you never gave yourself to them, not fully. You didn’t sign that contract knowing who they really were. You followed survival, not faith. That gave me just enough room to act, to speak with you now.
“Those rules were put in place to avoid utter chaos. In the event the gods wanted to return, they would still have a world to return to. Zeus commanded me to remain behind and maintain the balance between good and evil within the world. This was not a difficult task, because with most of the gods departing, the power they had within this world went with them. Godsare only as strong as the worship other creatures afford us. And therein lies the problem.” Sophie paused for a bite of her curry.
“And that is?” Aida asked, hoping she didn’t sound too impatient.
“Those of us left behind have very little power. And gaining it isn’t that easy when most of humanity has forgotten you exist.”
“But if the gods can compel humans, can’t you rebuild your power?”
“It’s not as easy as you might think. You can only compel those who believe in you and are aligned with you. And often, that’s subtle and takes place over a long period of time. What do you think of when you hear the word Nike?”
“The shoe,” Aida said. “But if you said it in the correct Greek pronunciation, I would know you were talking about the goddess of victory.”
“Do you know how many Nike shoes are sold every year?”
Aida shook her head. She’d never liked Nike, preferring sneakers from Superga.
“Roughly seven hundred and eighty million.”
Aida’s jaw dropped as she took in the unfathomable number.
“The shoe company was founded after the goddess was able to compel the two young founders, both athletes, to name the company after her. But to reach this point of sneaker domination, it took her nearly sixty years. It’s a drop in the bucket of time for us but a long time for humans, who die, and more often than not, trends die with them. And it’s an odd victory, don’t you think? To be the goddess of the most shoes on the planet? But it’s a victory, and that’s what matters to her.”
“But this doesn’t explain why things are disappearing,” Luciano said.
“I don’t know what’s happening there. But I have a feeling gods are involved. Tell me more about MODA. Who’s running it?”
“It’s headed by someone named Lady Ozie.” It felt strange to say the name out loud; it sounded so silly. “We’ve never met her.”
Sophie sighed. “I should have known. Another sister. Oizys.”
Aida wasn’t familiar with that goddess, but Luciano obviously was. “Cazzo!” he cursed. “She’s also called Miseria.”
“Misery?” Aida said, stunned.
“That’s why you’ve never met her,” Sophie said. “She sucks all the life out of the room when she enters it. She would cripple you with her nearness. You would have the weight of unfathomable depression upon your heart. She can’t simply appear and force despair, so she’s using a more insidious strategy. By removing joy—bit by bit—she creates a world where despair can flourish naturally. Without happiness to balance it out, everything tilts further into darkness, and her power grows with every moment of suffering.”
She set down her glass, her expression grim. “As misery and chaos spread, it weakens those of us tied to positive forces. Gods like me, who represent peace, temperance, and joy, are drained of our strength. The more the imbalance grows, the less we can do to stop it.”
