“Well, you see, mortals don’t really know that they need coin for the boatman,” Hermes said. But Charon had never extended his interest to such baubles unlike the rest of the Underworld, he considered obols the only acceptable form of currency. A few held sparkling jewellery that they probably thought would tempt the boatman. The majority of the shades carried odd and ends-toys, photographs, trinkets. “Seems like the work’s piling up a bit, hey?”Ĭharon released a puff of purple smoke and a sigh as the next shade offered a tiny, plastic bracelet. “Hey there, boss!” Hermes interjected, dropping down to drift just above Charon’s shoulder, eyes on the shade they wandered away. As Hermes approached, the boatman snatched what appeared to be a small stuffed bunny from the mortal at the front of the line, threw it into the Styx and shoved the shade along. The end of his oar was planted firmly on the ground and angled across his body, forming a barrier that prevented shades from pushing their way onto the nearly empty ferry behind him. There he found Charon standing on the dock. Impatient even in death.Īfter depositing the souls he had carried from the surface at the end of the line, Hermes zipped up to its front, curious about the delay. The shades themselves whispered and grumbled, wondering why the line moved so slowly. Even with his exceptional speed, it took some time to reach its end. Hermes raised his eyebrows as he saw its length from a height. They were capable of finding all that, of doing all that, alone.Īnd the mortals’ lack of belief in the old ways was never more apparent than when they formed a line on the shore of the Styx in order to board Charon’s ferry. They didn’t need Athena for wisdom, or Dionysus for revelry nor Ares to start a war. They could find an answer, right or wrong, to any question at the click of a button. They had skyscrapers and airplanes and internet. The problem was, the gods’ wrath meant little to the mortals in their modern age.
They ought to have more respect, show more deference. Some of the gods-namely Zeus-found the neglect infuriating. The pantheon’s names were invoked only in new interpretations of the old stories, now mere myths and legends. On Gaia’s surface, their temples were in ruins, visited by mortals as curiosities of the ancient world instead of the sacred sites they were.
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