Intern Eternal

Loki punched a fist into his left hand. His black boots clicked against the marble floor as he turned onto the main hallway of Asgard. Fifty more yards, and he would be in The Presence. And he hated it.

The last time the demi-god of doom, chaos, mischief and revenge had been summoned to The Presence, he had been reprimanded severely for going overboard with his power. He'd had to spend a century with Ahriman, in instruction, stripped of his demigod status.

Loki continued toward the large double doors. He couldn't imagine what The Presence wanted with him now! He'd only recently been released from instruction, and hadn't as yet done anything. Was The Presence aspiring to avenge a past grudge? He shivered at the thought of another century in instruction.

He slowed down, and folded his arms. His blackened lips broke a smile. His eyes, deep brown behind the dark markings that surrounded them, twinkled merrily. Was he Loki or not? He may be punished again, but he was not without recourse.

Normally the doors into The Presence could not be opened, but Loki pushed them as though they were only air, and found himself in The Presence.

The chamber was filled with light and pinkish streaks bounced off the walls. An inner blue grew brighter, and spoke. "Welcome, Loki."

"All right, look," Loki said, waving his arms. "Am I in for a reprimand again? 'Cause if I am, let's dispense with the social formalities, and get on with it."

The blue laughed. "Hardly a reprimand, Loki. More like a promotion."

"What do you mean?"

"Loki, would it please you to be given full deity status?"

Loki stuttered, he spat, his tongue twisted. "Do not tease me!"

"I am not."

"There is nothing I want more." He remained skeptical. "But how is it you suddenly want to make me a god, after eons of stepping on me."

"The Akasha is unpredictable," the blue replied.

Understatement! The Akasha was the very essence of the universe itself, the stuff from which immortal and mortal sprung. Always changing, always moving, and never dependable. "It has declared," the blue continued. "That it has yet another ultimate plan, one in which you play a major role. "

Loki chuckled. "And chaos just never plays a major role otherwise!"

"Noted. However, there is a certain...how shall I say...requirement that you will need to fulfill."

Loki looked suspicious. "And what kind of requirement is this?"

"Oh nothing, really. Just a trifle. A small formality."

"And that is?"

"You will need to find a human consort."

Loki grimaced. "That is hardly a trifle! Why?"

The blue remained silent for a moment. "It is not for me to say why, Loki," it answered. "The Akasha has spoken. You must make your influence on earth felt."

"And it is not now felt?"

"Not to its possible extent," said the blue. "And to do this, so tells the Akasha, you must take up with a mortal."

"What kind of mortal?"

"Human. The rest is your choice."

Loki considered. "I like human women well enough."

"And so your consort will be a lady," the blue said. "But there is more! You will need this mortal to achieve your full deity status. Therefore, you will be at her disposal." Loki motioned to protest, but the blue continued. "It is a simple matter. She will have what you need to achieve what you want, and what the Akasha wants. Therefore, your first priority will be to please her, to gain her cooperation and companionship, which will, in turn, strengthen your mortal powers, thus conferring full deity status upon you."

"This is preposterous! In order to become a full god, I must put myself in the power of a mortal woman?"

"Exactly."

Loki shook his head. "I shall never understand the Akasha!"

"You may, someday," the blue commented.

Loki rubbed his chin as he weighed his possibilities. Indeed, the Akasha was very fickle. An opportunity such as this may never arise again. In the grand scheme of the Akasha, this may be his only chance at godship, and if he blew it, he would remain a demigod, a scapegoat for the other immortals, subject to their quirks and wrath, for all eternity.

Loki knew that his true personality had very little to do with his divine profession. He never let a little sympathy for humanity get in the way of his work, but he would always regret the grief and sorrow he necessarily caused. Among the immortals, he was quiet, introspective. Very few immortals were willing to deal with him, solely because of his position. He made their jobs that much tougher by doing his own, and was not appreciated. And asserting himself among them, trying for recognition, had only gotten him reprimanded.

The thought of a consort terrified him! Oh, he'd had mortal women before, usually by infiltrating the bodies of their lovers, and he knew that paradise. But with a consort, he could not hide in the guise of a mortal man. He could only be himself, Loki, terrifying to the sight, and he would forever lack the ability to change that. Like all the immortals, Loki had been created by human imagination; and as such, his eternal form resembled the human model. He knew his face was handsome enough in the mortal sense, and as an immortal, he possessed a splendid physique. And he had chosen his eternal form to resemble a young man in the prime of his life, having admired such creatures himself.

But there were the marks of his position that would make him less than palatable. The two colors of chaos were white, the combination of all colors, and black, the total absence of color. As the entity of chaos, these colors were an integral part of Loki. His skin, all over his form, even within his mouth, was the palest white. Black markings around his eyes took the form of stars, symbolic of the cosmos while his lips, likewise, were black. He had eyes, like most humans, yet his were simply two inky spheres swimming in pools of pure whiteness.

Loki knew that his appearance was suitable to his position. He was, after all, the source of doom, not just death, but the entire process of inevitable destruction. Sometimes, as he contemplated himself in a looking glass, his mind would wander to similarly marked figures on earth. Clowns, some of them were called, who dressed in outlandish costumes and made other humans laugh, their white faces beaming. There were also the mimes, pretending to do things they were not in reality. They were often the objects of scorn and public ridicule. But Loki knew he really had very little in common with the clowns and the mimes. Their stigmata could be washed away.

"I will do it," he said. "But I do not think I will have much luck in enticing a lady into my presence."

"If it is the Akasha's will, it will happen," the blue said. "And you must remember that the force of the universe is on your side."

"That, I find hard to believe," Loki admitted. "But I am willing to try. How shall I go about this? I cannot manifest on earth physically."

"No you can't, yet," the blue agreed. "However, you do have followers, and you can manifest in the spirit to those who believe in you."

Loki smiled. "I hadn't thought of that!"

"They will help you, Loki." The blue paused. "Just between you and me, you're a fine immortal. No entity works as hard at their duty as you do, and, I believe, no one else's is quite as difficult. You deserve this and I bless you."

Loki felt warm, then, and a tear rolled out of his eye, iridescent against his black skin. "Let the Akasha know that I shall do my best."

He returned to Pandemonium, his beloved palace. Pandemonium existed on the very edge of Trilithion, that part of the immortal realm which dealt with human souls. As palaces went, Pandemonium was not very large. A modest domicile suited Loki's personality, but in reality Loki had never given his home much thought, as he was rarely in residence.

From the highest turret, he could see into Summerland; the lush forests and blue streams, a natural paradise. Now and then, he saw Ceridwen, standing on the great hill, strirring the graal, and she would wave. He liked Ceridwen, mostly because Ceridwen liked him. Their spheres of influence rarely conflicted, and often coincided.

When he thought about it, the deities of Trilithion were a good deal more friendly than those of Deosil, of which he was, technically, one. In Deosil lived those deities who had direct, or indirect, influence over the mortal realm: rain deities and water deities and love deities and nature deities and all the other deities. They interfered, they spied, they played favorites. As they were so intrinsically wrapped up in mortal affairs, it was hardly surprising that these deities would take on human characteristics, for good and for ill. But not the Trilithion deities. They thought, they loved, they sought to better the human souls.

But at this time, Loki did not run up the tower to take in the view of Summerland. He instead ran to his looking glass. In it, he could see himself, if he chose, or it enabled him to see the mortal realm. Particularly, it focused on those aspects most important to him.

The clear glass became opaque, and then showed a white swirl. "Show me my most devoted follower," he commanded.

The swirl faded. A man appeared in the glass. He was not young, but mature. He wore the standard black robe of a Lokian priest. He was sitting in a chair, twiddling his thumbs. Then, a bell sounded. Curious, Loki watched as the man suddenly sprang up from his chair and grabbed a black rectangle off of a small table.

"Ah," Loki uttered. He realized what it was, a cellphone. "Let me hear the conversation."

The man's voice was saying, "I'm so glad you called! We're having a heck of a time with this thing."

And then, a melodious woman's voice spoke. "Calm down, Jerry. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"I'm so irritated," the man spoke again. "Sure, they can have gatherings and what not, but we try and bring everyone together, and we get stepped on!"

"Looking glass," Loki spoke. "Tell me what is going on."

"A fine opportunity, Master," a thin voice rose from the glass. "The man you are watching is Jerry Galen, the high priest of the Lokian Circle on the planet. He is trying to bring together all of your followers for a unity meeting."

"That's wonderful!"

"But there is a problem, Master," the voice continued. "The city council where Galen dwells will not allow the group to come together."

"Am I a demigod or not?" Loki demanded. "No mortal power will balk me like this!"

With a gesture of his long, thin hands, he sent forth mischief into the minds of the city council, to not only allow the meeting, but welcome it.

"They don't know what they're dealing with." Loki smiled

Emilie J. Conroy

ejconroy778@gmail.com