Yet the gods had not entirely failed in determining what connected them to the world of man. Various gods had spit forth some theories. Without exception, drinking establishments had served as the places in which theories were conceived, and the theories had always been fathered by alcoholic beverages fatal to any non-divine being.
Weldt, the God of Commerce, proposed the first Theory of Ineffable Conjunction during a pause between bouts of weeping over being mocked in the bedchamber by his wife. He envisioned the connection as a tunnel through which the gods could see and move. He described it as dark and scary, with a forbidding aura that only the brave could pierce. Other gods asked Weldt to explain how two gods could see different things through the tunnel simultaneously. He elaborated, “Climb up my ass, you squint! See how you like living with that moist, rutting harpy!” Then he passed out for four days.
Everyone acknowledged that this theory was weak, but it remained the prevailing, and only, theory for thirty thousand years. Shockingly, Lutigan, the God of War, produced the next theory during a drinking contest against Cassarak, the Goddess of Health. During the contest, Lutigan belatedly realized he was going to lose because no being in existence could consume more food or drink than Cassarak. Lutigan leaped atop the table, scattering bottles, pitchers, and glasses. Then he announced the second Theory of Ineffable Conjunction, which held that the realms of god and man are connected by a window. He proclaimed that he needed to run and “write that down,” upon which he fled the tavern and avoided losing the contest. The next day, several gods asked him about his theory, and he had obviously given it some thought. He said that more than one god could see different things through the window because it was “real wide.” When asked how gods could pass through it to the world of man, he said, “It’s a window. Open it, you moron!”
While thirty thousand years had passed between creation of the first and second theories, the third theory followed the second more quickly. In fact, Gorlana, the Goddess of Mercy, announced the third Theory of Ineffable Conjunction nine hours after Lutigan announced the second theory. Gorlana, Effla, Trutch, and Sakaj were enjoying brunch at the Sun Soul Pavilion the morning after Lutigan’s announcement, and Gorlana revealed that the matter connecting the realms was like an egg. After a discreet silence and some sips of morning-time alcoholic beverages, Trutch, the Goddess of Life, asked Gorlana to explain how this was so. Gorlana said, “Oh, I don’t know. But it’s such a nice image, I think it must be true.”
Gorlana’s announcement heralded a one-hundred-fifty-thousand-year hiatus for new Theories of Ineffable Conjunction. During that time, the gods preferred not to think about the topic at all, but if compelled to do so, they tended to side with Lutigan.
After those one hundred fifty thousand years had passed, Harik, the God of Death, hit upon the fourth theory. At Krak’s annual birthday celebration, his children gave him a mated pair of whales of an extinct species. The gift-wrap ribbon was rather long, as one might expect. As Harik helped his father unwrap the gift, he became mesmerized by the ribbon and wandered off to a corner of the whale-accommodating tavern to consider it. Later, the entire population of the Gods’ Realm, including gods, demigods, imps, and whales, sang felicitations to the Father of the Gods. During the song, Harik jumped atop the female whale and began shouting about the fourth Theory of Ineffable Conjunction. Five seconds later, Harik’s left arm was vaporized by the impossibly searing light of the sun, and he henceforth became more circumspect about his theory.
Harik held that an immense ribbon connects the realms. While the ribbon had substance, it was woven loosely enough to enable gods to see through it and pass through it. Some of the gods found this theory interesting, and some felt it to be asinine. It never gained much popularity since all the gods feared that Krak disliked it, and they preferred to avoid having their parts vaporized.
In conceiving his chariot, Fingit rejected the ridiculous egg theory immediately. He tossed out the tunnel theory because it couldn’t explain multiple perspectives, and because Weldt was an oaf. Of the remaining two theories, Fingit held no strong opinions about which was correct—or which was the least incorrect, as the case may be. He finally chose the window theory. He didn’t feel any better about its accuracy, but he could easily make calculations about something straight and rigid, like glass. Calculating vectors and power ratios for something like a ribbon would be a pain in the butt, and he was already getting a headache.
Once Fingit settled on the window theory, he hypothesized about why no one could see through the window anymore. Perhaps the curtains had been drawn. Perhaps someone had let a shrub grow in front of the window. Could the window have been painted over by an inattentive decorator? Maybe someone had just parked their fat ass in front of the window for eight years. Fingit realized that seemed unlikely, but on an inter-dimensional scale, who could say?
Of course, all these impediments were metaphorical, just as the window was a metaphor for conceiving how the connection between the realms worked. Fingit wasn’t so far gone that he misunderstood that. He considered the window metaphor as he conceptualized his chariot and its capabilities.
Fingit then opened his tome of schematics and design notes and studied everything he had written over the ages about chariots. The first
