False Gods

“Damn it.”

Of all the places to be stranded, this had to have been one of the worst. Greece, 8th century BCE, the peak of Mount Olympus. That was what the screen said moments before the time machine stopped functioning.

I grumbled as I sat at the edge of the cliff, cursing my luck. There were no electronics in this era, no advanced metalworking … everything I needed to repair the machine was millennia in the future. If the materials could be sourced, it would be possible for me to manage it, but that was a big “if.”

Of course, my luck had to have run out today, of all days. I turned my gaze to the machine, a simple vessel reminiscent of early jets. It lay there, thick, black smoke billowing into the atmosphere while its hull had been scraped from the impact. Staring at the wreckage at least explained where all my luck had gone.

“Damn it,” I repeated, dragging myself toward the pile of steaming metal. The crash had rendered the implants in my spine useless, leaving my legs a bothersome weight. My breath heaved as I got close enough to inspect the damage.

I wasn’t given the peace to do more than a cursory pass. Voices echoed up the mountain, followed by the sound of panicked footsteps. Moments later, a trio of ancient humans joined me on the peak, garbed in simple tunics and wearing bland sandals.

“Oh, shit.”

“Y-you are …” One of them pointed a finger.

I shook my head and attempted to back off. “I’m nothing. You don’t see me,” I said, thankful my translation chips had survived the crash unscathed. “I mean, uh … be not afraid?”

The humans did just that, dropping to their knees and bowing. I stared, bewildered, as they prostrated themselves before me.

“Oh, great Hephaestus, god of fire and craftsmen … we bow to you so you may bless our work.”

My eyes went wide as it finally sank in. “No, no. Look, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not—”

“There is no need to explain yourself, great Hephaestus. Come, let us aid you in your return to your kin.”

Now, that was a tizzy I wasn’t too excited about. I wasn’t exactly in a rush to meet a bunch of gods, especially after crashing into their sacred mountain. If they even existed and this mountain was sacred.

I didn’t have much say, the three of them hurrying to haul me off my feet. As uncomfortable as I felt about the whole situation, there was something oddly pleasant about being carried by total strangers.

They made easy work of my weight, carrying me away from my time machine and toward a grand cave further up on the peak. As we drew nearer, I could make out voices that didn’t activate the translators in my brain.

I thought little of the peculiarity until we rounded the corner, at which point I could see what sort of situation I’d gotten myself into.

There, huddled around a jumbled mass of a much, much larger time machine, had to have been a few dozen people. The moment my transporters and I entered the cave, they all stopped their work and looked my way.

“Oh, great gods, and greatest of all, Zeus,” the trio of humans said. “We present to you a lost member of your kind.”

The moment I locked eyes with the one they’d referred to as Zeus, I could only let out a heavy sigh. “You gotta be shitting me.”