"Hurry up, we can't be late," Zeus said, straightening out the folds of his tunic. Iridescent white with gold threads, it complemented his deep blue eyes and snowy-white beard nicely.

"Not to worry," Hermes said. His own hawk-like nose bobbing as he approved of Zeus' selection. "I've tripled-checked the planetary alignment and we'll be right on time."

"Good," Zeus grinned. "Man has finally gotten it right. No war, hunger, disease, prejudice, or strife. It's a golden age -- the perfect time for the Gods to reassert themselves."

Hermes donned his winged cap. "I know. Shall we go?"

"Yes, let's," and with the flat of his hand, Zeus tore a rip in the fabric of reality. Stepping through, the two gods found themselves in a great plaza in the middle of the night. All around them people sang, danced, children played, poets stood reciting their best sonnets to appreciate crowds, while above them fireworks exploded in dazzling displays of color. Happiness hung on the very air.

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful!" Zeus declared.

Hermes, however, tugged at his robe. "Sir, your speech."

Zeus remembered himself. "Yes, of course, to business." Straddling the cobblestones as if they were mountains, he used his best god voice. "People of Earth," he boomed out, "we have returned!"

Only a handful of the revelers stopped to pay them attention. They cheered and applauded, and a couple raised their wine glasses to toast them. Zeus frowned. "I don't think they know who we are."

Hermes agreed. "Well, it has been a few thousand years. You should remind them."

"Right." Then, deepening his voice even more: "Children of Earth, the gods are pleased by what you have achieved!" This time an entire section of revelers actually stopped to applaud his words. But as soon as the echoes stopped, they turned their attentions back to what they were doing. "No," Zeus said, "they really don't know who we are."

"Well," a voice behind them spoke up, "you caught on a lot faster than Odin. He went on for a full hour before he realized they'd applaud anyone with a loud voice."

Zeus and Hermes turned. Behind them was a ragged group of warriors (as evidenced by their weapons and armor) who sat in a dejected group. The speaker was a short, thin, clever-looking man wearing a leather jerkin and pants. All of them were blonde with fair skin. Zeus recognized them immediately.

"What are you doing here?"

The speaker gave him a shrewd look. "Oh, like you don't know. Same thing you're doing: trying to take credit for all the peace and harmony."

Zeus scowled at him. "I know you. You're Loki, the Trickster. I want to talk to somebody of authority."

Loki smiled. "That's just it. There is nobody of authority." With that, he indicated a group of people that stood back even further than the Norsemen. Peering through the gloom, Zeus made out several tall and stern Africans. There was also a South American man dressed in an impressive gold headdress, collar, and earrings. In his arms he cradled a feathered snake who looked thoroughly depressed. A crocodile-headed man stood to their right – hissing with anger. There were other, less distinct, shapes beyond them. Some of whom were barely even human in form.

"I don't understand," Zeus said. "Is everyone already here?"

Loki shook his head. "Not everyone. Buddha arrived an hour ago but got so mad he threw his prayer beads at the D.J. and left. Mohammed just pretended that he was at the wrong party and wandered off. We think Jesus and Vishnu are both trying to be fashionably late. And Mother Earth, well, you know her…" He pointed off to the left.

Zeus turned to see a plump, mostly-naked, mature woman with brown skin and silvery hair dancing with abandon in the center of a courtyard. The crowd around her applauded her timeless beauty and grace.

"She always did like a party," Zeus mumbled to himself. Then, turning back to Loki: "So who won?"

"Excuse me?"

Zeus cocked an eyebrow. Loki knew what he was asking. "Who won? Who gets to claim that all this joy is due to humanity following his / her / or their teachings? Which god won?"

Loki shook his head so that his flaxen curls shook. "Sorry. One of the hallmarks of this new age is religious tolerance. In the words of one young lady that we met," Loki then did a perfect imitation of the high nasal voice of a Ballywood movie heroine. "Don't have a cow, man. It's ALL good. The message is what's important. Not the messenger."

Zeus glared at him. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Of course the messenger is important. We're gods. We are to be feared and respected. Now, I want to know: who in the Hades won!"

Loki gave him a sad smile. "I think they did," he said as he pointed to the human beings within the plaza. "They found paradise -- for themselves."

But Zeus wasn't convinced. "Obviously the timing isn't right. This is not the correct planetary alignment. Hermes, we're –" Zeus turned to find that Hermes was gone. A quick check revealed that he'd gone off to join a conga line Mother Earth had just started.

"You can join us," Loki said as he indicated the forlorn gathering of gods, "and wait till the next planetary alignment. See if things get any better."

But as Zeus watched the line of happy people weave its way in and out of the plaza, as he observed the children being showered with love, and the old being paid their due respect, he got the sense that things would never get any better – at least not for the gods.