“He has to know. He'll never be whole without the truth. Look, I get it. You hate the gods. All gods. It’s no accident that includes yourself. And it includes your boy. Don’t you see that? He feels that! He can’t help what he is. He can’t begin to help it, because you haven’t even told him. It’s all connected man.” -- Anon Guest
Picture what it would be like for gods and deities to roam the Earth. Those who are revered in one way or another have ways of walking the world. As they were in life, as they are pictured in the minds of the faithful. As their utter truth. You might imagine a million iterations of Jesus wandering the byways, or picture Buddha chilling in a park somewhere. You may even ride public transit next to angels, unaware.
Saint Isadorus likes to hang out in coffee shops, maintaining the wifi and nudging someone's autosave so that their thesis, script, or novel won't die when their computer does. Elvis has been seen numerous times in Karaoke bars, but never for very long. That would spoil the fun.
And on the highways, the minor god of Transit pilots a wide Winnebago along single-lane highways, causing prayers in the form of, "Good god what is this asshole's problem?" Just because you're a deity doesn't mean you have to be nice. They never want to know, but the problem is their kid.
Gods are not born. Not exactly. Humans can be born and become deified as a notable figure. Not gods. They just... happen.
They manifested one day as a weedy kid of indeterminate gender and blended heritage. Loose clothes and an acceptable amount of dirt for an active child. Bare feet in summer and boots in winter. Not too affluent, not poor enough to make "concerned citizens[1]" reach for their phones. They are an easy smile and transient friendships. They are bonds formed in play, in laughter in playgrounds. They are the child that is met once and rarely seen again.
Meet the god of peripatetic children. Call them Mikki, Nikki, Sam... all the easy names that fit any gender. Friendly, outgoing, easy to get along with... but they can not stay still. Always a new dawn with a different view. Always a new place and new friends... and hidden loneliness.
Mobillus acted like any other mortal. Their journey was permanent and the form their vehicle took could change from time to time. They would stop for a day in towns and cities to let the kid play, but there had to be something more to it.
A hippie type shared the bench one day in a play park in the middle of Bog-Fog nowhere[2]. He was darker of skin tone than most. Well-kept, but sporting long hair and a beard. Shorts and a T-shirt. Battered flip-flops on their last gasp, but the cleanest feet. The hippie looked out at the wheeling herd of children and nodded towards the kid. "Yeah, you got yourself a problem, buddy."
"What's it to you?" challenged Mobillus.
The hippie let his halo show for a brief moment. Oh. "I have some experience with the children of deities."
"Jee-zus..."
"Yup," the hippie bowed. "As I was once, and so I shall be again. Eventually. Those who act in my name don't even know me. But I remember what it was like to learn that I had a destiny, and powers, and a plan. Do you have a plan for them?"
Mobillus dropped their usual surly demeanor. "I don't even know what to do with them. They just turned up one day and asked to hear some kiddie rock on the radio."
"They have to know what they are. Break it to them gently. Guide them. Or... I could come with and help you out? It's... kind of my way."
"You walk everywhere. Doesn't that violate your theme?"
"I hitched rides on wagons. This is nothing different. At least you can take a female aspect. I'm stuck."
Traveling families happened too. "So what do you reckon Nikki is? God of friendship? God of homeless kids?"
"They're looking like a god of loneliness. That could be trouble if it goes the wrong way. Even gods need someone on their side."
Mobillus began the slow fade from presenting masculine to presenting feminine. Nikki would still recognise them. "Yeah. I've heard what those 'incel' people do when anger and spite get the better of them. I don't want Nikki turning out like that."
"First step on being a good parent," noted Jesus. "Better than many, anyway."
[1] They're never concerned about the kid. Just their property values.
[2] Were it not for the presence of children, the initials B and F would stand for something else.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Robhainer]
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