Divine Management in a Cosmic Theater

Nobody talks about what happens when a god realizes they're just middle management for beings who treat

planets like filing cabinets. I was born with three eyelids and a pulse that made

dogs whimper. The midwives wrapped me in enough linen to mummify a small elephant because

apparently fabric solves everything when your newborn hums at frequencies that crack pottery.

The priest who blessed me screamed the holy scream and declared me divine, which was generous

considering I'd just made his teeth vibrate out of his skull. See,

the Visitors had been hanging around Egypt for decades by then. They showed up without

fanfare, just stepped out of shimmering air that smelled like burnt metal and