Divine Prank

“It is with great pleasure that I present you the artefact we've been searching agonisingly for the past six months.” I gracefully pass my opened palm above the series of vases standing in front of the podium, carefully placed on an exhibition stand. “These are rumoured to be the last divine prank of Hermes.” The room, although packed with people falls silent. Everyone I look at seems like holding their breath.

“This set of vases contains the remains of a team of inferior deities that were serving the great god of Olympus. According to various historians that our team has studied, these deities were responsible for setting many villages in turmoil with their spread of mischief. The vases remained sealed, using a special mixture to ensure they wouldn't be easy to open. And we intend to listen to our ancestors and not open them.” I laugh to break the tension in the room. “The piece of papyrus saved on the excavation site contains a warning notice, addressed to the Great Oracle of Delphi, but due to unknown circumstances, the vases never made it there.”

Flashes blind my eyes throughout the whole time of the presentation. When I finish telling the backstory of our findings, the reporters jump like kangaroos on their seats with their hands reaching up to get my attention. Towards the back of the room, I see Sir Woods – a famous archaeologist - along with his fellow followers, engaged in a whispering conversation with his group. The looks they give me though, are not encouraging at all. The discovery may not be what they’re expecting. And without their word on the board, I may lose the funding for my next assignment.

Desperate to get close to the group at the back, I thank hurriedly the crowd and make a move to step down from the podium. But my clumsy feet cause the podium to shake, pushing the table where vials are placed. Clay rattles as the vials collide, sending each in a dangerous rotation. I circle the space to reach the table in front and block their fall but gravity is quicker than myself trying to walk past the reporters approaching me.

Everything around me – me included – gets trapped in slow motion. I stand and watch in terror over one reporter’s right shoulder as the vials drop one after the other, ending in a pile of smashed clay on the floor. I instantly lift my hands, hiding my face against my palms. In my mind, I had played various versions of how this night could have gone. And none of them, including me, accidentally broke our latest archaeological discovery.

Not even explaining the situation to the board would grant me access to the sources I need. Now, I’ll be very lucky if they don’t kick me out. Even though my hands block my sight, I keep my eyelids closed. I prepare myself for all these disdainful comments that will fall upon me like a rain of arrows. I focus on my hearing…

And I don’t hear a thing. Complete silence. Strange, because I’m sure I haven’t gone anywhere, the overcrowded hall is impossible to empty in a matter of seconds, yet I have a peculiar feeling that I’m all alone. Letting my hands drop slowly, I open my left eye just slightly to look around. I could see the table and the pile of orange ash that previously was a set of vials. I take the courage to open my other eye too and let go completely of my hand barrier. A gasp leaves my mouth as I watch the crown has been frozen in time. The face of the reporter standing between me and the table hosting the artefacts took a rather silly expression as time cut him off before making his question probably.

I turn around slowly, unable to explain how everyone has been frozen while I still can move around. A burst of sneaky laughs catches my attention, coming from outside the room. Bypassing the living statues around me I open the door, throwing myself in the main hall of the Acropolis Museum. Chill air engulfs me, making me jump as a strong shiver runs through my body.

My mouth drops open upon the sight in front of me. They should be silent. Still, silent and marble cold. Not moving and talking loudly. I blink a few times, I even rub my eyes hoping this to be a dream. A bad, not-funny-at-all dream. I shake my head sideways. This is insane. Absolutely, unbelievable.

Every inanimate object has come to life.

This can’t be happening. Suddenly, I feel the urge to get some air. I need to get out. I run as fast as I can towards the museum’s entrance but the moment I reach out to touch the grand doors, I feel the sting of an electric current throwing me back on the stone-cold floor.

I grunt as I get up, ready to make another attempt but I stop short. There’s no point in trying again since I’ll find myself once more back down. Maybe try the emergency doors, but I have to go through the entire west wing until I find the first one. Without other options at hand, I start making my way through the vivid statues. After all, curiosity bugs me to take a closer look at life from an exhibit’s perspective.

Loud voices and cheers get my attention, coming from somewhere near me, so I make a small turn to follow the sound. As I approach a section dedicated to statues of young men and women, the voices are getting louder.

“Our next contestant is Kore KA, wearing a silk dress with golden details. Her hair drops in luxurious locks over her shoulders. Sculpted by a prodigy student of Phidias around 434 BC.” A statue of a shepherd announces while a bit further away, a statue of a Kore poses playfully. On the opposite wall, a small group of young boys statues whistle playfully, making the Kore giggle and the rest of the young women statues protest for unfair judgement. The view is quite amusing although still feels strange to watch them acting like normal.

I leave the beauty contest aside, getting back on the main path for the emergency exit past the west wing. To my right, there’s a giant clay decorative disk with depictions of everyday life. A young man is playing the lyre with his teacher, adding a nice tone to the whole chaos around me, while an old woman tends the hair of a girl, sitting on a rock. All of a sudden, a small statue of a winged Nike approaches fast, grabbing with its little hands the plate and swiping it to the side. The giant disk rotates with speed, making the paintings go dizzy and shouting to the winged statue that laughs mischievously.

Further down, another group of young men statues sets up teams to play football while the head of Alexander the Great decides to be the referee and a piece of broken pediment from Athena’s Temple is selected to be the VAR team.

I finally made it to the end of the West Wing. And failure awaits me there too. The emergency door – even though this time doesn’t launch me back with electroshock, it seems to be blocked by something heavy from the other side. I give my all, pushing and dropping myself on the door but it won’t move. Something passes fast before me. The laugh is familiar. I could swear it was the same one I heard back at the exhibition hall where everything began. So I decide to follow it.

This hall is not so crowded with exhibits and mainly hosts the largest of the statues saved. The flying thing appears again in my vision, this time going straight down the hall, heading to the hall of Cycladic Art. The bloody thing moves too fast. I can barely get a glimpse of him. It vanishes from my eyes the same fast as it came. Only a shade of bright purple feather could register in my brain.

Could it be something connected with the vials I broke? I wonder… maybe the exhibits know something about it.

Taking a deep breath, I approach the largest group of exhibits in this area. The glass surrounding them muffles the grunts and groans they leave as they try to stretch.

“Aaaah that’s it!” one cries as she stretches out her hands above her head. The rock-cracking sound must be her joints complaining after all those centuries of stillness.

“Damn Tartarus, my neck is killing me! Aouch! Be gentle please” another shouts as a third one gives her a massage on her neck. “Oh Zeus, you’ve got it. That’s the spot.”

“I’m going to find that arrogant sculptor and show him what it’s like to support the Erechtheion on your head all those centuries!” the first one entered the discussion.

“Excuse me,” I knock on the glass but all seem unphased by my presence. I knock louder, but still nothing happens. The Caryatid don’t pay the slightest attention to me. “EXCUSE ME!” I shout as I bang the glass with both hands with all my might.

“Hey! What’s your tone down there!” the one being massaged turns abruptly towards me, pointing me with her finger. “What do you want?”

“Did you see a purple thing flying from here? I’m looking for it” I ask, keep repeating inside that they may have the answer I need.

The caryatid giving the massage to the grumpy one stops for a moment, kneeling to reach as close as to my height. Contrary to the other two, her features are not so worn out. “You better ask Athena. She’s resting further down. We saw what you seek but we cannot help you further. Please excuse my sisters. They have been through a lot of weathering all this time.”

Thanking the kind Caryatid, I leave them be and walk further down the hall as she instructed. I recognize the Parian marble from the distance. “Relief of the pensive Athena” the sign before it says. Athena leans on her spear, her eyes closed and her breath heavy. She murmurs under her breath, but it’s almost impossible to comprehend her words.

I don’t know why but having to speak to the actual goddess of wisdom makes me a little star-struck. How should I address the goddess of Olympus? A sacrifice to earn her favour? No way! I don’t even have fruits or nuts to offer as prayer.

“Greetings omniscient goddess, Athena,” I speak with emphasis, dropping my head in respect to the Olympian.

“Another human” Athena spits in disappointment. “I can’t these mortals anymore. I simply can’t. Every time they ask. And when you think they stopped, they keep asking!” she murmurs to herself. “Help them, Father said. It won’t be difficult for the mighty goddess of wisdom” she says sarcastically, mimicking probably the voice of Zeus. “Nonsence! They never get happy with anything. Maybe I should consider changing my job. Those TV shows with questions look nice. It must be easy for someone who knows it all.” She laughs once.

Never in my wildest dreams could imagine this. Athena, murmuring about her being the goddess of wisdom. It’s hilarious. I struggle to keep myself from laughing because I need her assistance, and infuriating a god don’t know how it might turn out to me. “Sorry, oh great goddess Athena, but before you change carrier, can you answer this question for me? I’m looking for a purple feathery thing that flies around here. Do you know what is it?”

Athena stops her complaining session and turns to me, throwing me a side glance that makes me wonder if I’ve offended her by asking if she knows. “Of course,” she throws nonchalantly. “You’re looking for -”

I never get to hear the name of what I am looking for. A sharp pain in my ribs throws me down. I hit my head and everything sinks into the darkness. When I open my eyes, I find myself at my office, dropped on the floor. Rising slowly to my feet, my eyes fall on the watch hanging on the opposite wall. 3.30 p.m. I go to the window and push the curtain with my fingers, picking outside. The streets are busier than ever. Full of people, cars and air that tastes of fumes. I laugh at myself moving my head sideways in disbelief.

In two hours I have to present my recent discovery to the world. The ‘Divine Prank’ of Hermes.