F F and Audrey cautiously approached a side door at the Temple of Bolinas. They entered quietly and looked about the temple hall. The golden idol of Bolinas, barefoot and dressed in a simple priest’s robe, loomed over the altar.

“Damn,” said F F. “I was sure …”

There was a muffled poof, and Balboa, staggering and trembling, popped into existence inside the temple’s massive golden doors. The doors slowly swung open, and Olema, wearing skimpy black leather and high-heeled boots, manifested herself in the doorway. Light from the plaza outside cast her shadow across the temple floor until it touched the base of the idol of Bolinas.

For a moment there was silence, then …

WHO DARES DISTURB THE PEACE OF MY TEMPLE?

“Don’t try that on me,” said Olema. She strode into the hall and stopped before the idol. “I have come for you. Show yourself.”

The air in front of the altar rippled. Balboa nervously huddled next to the doors, and F F and Audrey pressed themselves back into the shadows at the side of the hall.

Bolinas materialized. He wore a priest’s robe that matched the robe of his idol.

Olema spoke, her voice resounding through the temple hall. “You are compromised and have lost your authority as a god. Between us, therefore, I am the victor. You must come with me. Tradition requires it.”

“No,” said Bolinas. “The behavior of your priests has been despicable. They must be punished. ”

Balboa gasped. He inched toward the open temple doors. Olema, without turning around, said, “Stay.” Balboa stopped.

“You assign too much responsibility to priests,” Olema said to Bolinas. “People alone are responsible for what happens to them. We, as gods, are far above such squalid dealings.”

“For what purpose do we exist, then?”

“A philosophical question, hmmm? Those take a long time to resolve, do they not? Fortunately, immortals such as we have sufficient time. Come.”

“I do not wish to.” Bolinas gestured with his hand, and the temple floor beneath Olema’s feet cracked open, revealing a glimpse of a netherworld.

Olema shrugged. Barely moving a finger, she closed the gap. “Do not quibble. You have squandered your existence for your worshipers, and for them you will come.”

“And how could that be good for my worshipers?”

“Ah, you wish to debate? Consider this, then. Any benefit your worshipers receive will depend on what they choose to do with their lives, but, hmmm, they will have lives, won’t they? The action of my priests today was but a warning.  If you do not acquiesce, there will be conflict. You and I will survive, of course, but your worshipers are mere flesh and blood. Who can say how many might be killed?”

“You are appalling,” said Bolinas. “Leave my temple. Return to your lair of depravity.”

“You don’t mean that, do you? Isn’t this from you?” Letters shimmered into existence in mid-air, flickering in red and gold and forming sentences:

Why don’t my worshipers listen when
I tell them to live better lives?

It’s like I don’t have anything to do
except cater to them.

“From my blog,” said Bolinas. “Meaningless words.”

“Oh?”

More letters appeared.

It’s the same old thing every time, all the time.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of them.

“Amusement in an idle hour.”

“Ah. This, then, must be most amusing of all.”

I hear Olema’s threatening to attack them.
Maybe I should let her do it.

“Thus, you renounced your worshipers and the reason you exist as a god,” said Olema. “Wouldn’t you agree, hmmm?”

Glowing red and gold, the letters began to move, circling Bolinas. Going faster and faster, they blurred into a ring of fire.

Abruptly, they disappeared.

“No more,” said Olema. “It’s time.”

Bolinas slumped. “I’m tired. Tired of failing. Tired of feeling I should do more.”

“A guilty god. Who knew, hmmm? But of course you can expiate your guilt.”

“I’m not interested.”

“It doesn’t become a god to lie. In truth, you want — you need — to perform penance for your very existence. That requires a suitable venue, does it not? I have just the place.” A dark and mysterious doorway appeared in the air next to Olema. “You have heard, perhaps, of my dungeons?”

Bolinas shuddered. “What about chains? Aren’t there supposed to be chains?”

Olema laughed. “Not just guilty. Kinky, too.” Shackles blinked into existence on Bolinas’s wrists and ankles. They were joined by links of chain. “Say the words.”

Bolinas seemed to shrink. “In conformance with tradition of ancient weight, I acknowledge Olema as my superior. I am her thrall, to do with as she chooses, until she releases me.”

A moment passed, and Olema said, “Well?”

“It’s just a form,” said Bolinas.

“Now you balk?”

Bolinas knelt. With both knees on the ground, he slowly leaned forward. When his forehead touched the temple floor, the eyes of the golden idol behind him opened wide in horror, and its body writhed and churned. It blurred until it was a blank pillar of gold, and then settled into a representation of Olema. The idol’s new face held an satisfied expression.

Still kneeling below the idol, Bolinas lifted his head and looked at Olema.

“I accept your submission,” said Olema. She looked about the hall. “And your temple. And all your possessions. Lots of goodies in the treasure rooms?”

“Yes.”

“You know, if you were sincere in your beliefs, there wouldn’t be a dime down there. You’d have spent it all on the welfare of your worshipers, wouldn’t you, hmmm?” Olema laughed again, and the sound filled the temple hall. “You may rise and come to me.”

Bolinas stood. Chains clanking, he shuffled to Olema. She lifted her arm, and a long, flexible switch appeared in her hand. Flame flickered from the leather pad at its end. The switch made a rushing sound as she swung it and hit Bolinas on his buttock.

“Aaah!” he said.

“Expiation is such fun, isn’t it, hmmm?” She waived the switch in front of Bolinas, its flame burning brightly. “You like it, don’t you?”

“No … I don’t …” Olema hit him again, and Bolinas bowed his head. “Yes.”

“Good. But admission is the only the first step. Yes, what?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You see? It’s perfectly possible for a god to enjoy himself and do good at the same time.”

“How is that … uh, mistress?”

“While I’m paying attention to you, I won’t be paying attention to your worshipers. They’ll thank you for it.”

“Mistress?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you just descend in fire and sword and take me away?”

“Too much devastation …”

“You don’t care about that.”

“… of my future property.”

Olema turned to Balboa, who was still quavering next to the temple doors. “You have witnessed the submission of Bolinas, have you not, hmmm?”

“Yes, your terribleness,” said Balboa, his limbs trembling and his voice squeaking.

“You are also my high priest. Don’t, as they say, screw it up, like the last one did.” She pointed at him. “Go.” With a poof, Balboa vanished.

Olema turned back to Bolinas, and yanked on his chains. “Time for a symbolic perp walk.” She led him toward the entrance to the dungeon, which still floated in mid-air.

Bolinas followed her, chains rattling. “Why must we do it this way?”

Olema nodded at Audrey and F F, still in the shadows by the temple wall. “Physical symbolism is important, isn’t it, hmmm? It’s what humans understand.”

Bolinas looked back at Audrey and F F for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Olema and Bolinas stepped into the dungeon doorway. It faded and disappeared, taking them with it.

“He apologized,” said Audrey. “What for?”

“Who knows?” said F F. “There’s nothing as worthless as an apology from the gods.”