My Wife Is a Scientist

Taking a look at the Omega

The Egyptian gods had been watching Karl Omega Yang longer than most realized, so they decided to approach him all of a sudden. In that sense, nothing can take it that way. The more you look at that, the less you can see it. As far as you know, the better you can do it, the less you can grab it. That is to say that no one can shape it. As to what they did, they knew that they could change everything.

That is to say that no one could ever pretend the old pantheons simply slept when a mortal began rewriting the rules of endings and mercy across multiple realities. The thing is, this love cannot pretend it does not include the ancient caution of deities who have seen empires rise, fall, and rewrite themselves in the sand.

Demons were more powerful than human beings but not as powerful as gods. They were usually immortal, could be in more than one place at a time, and could affect the world and people in supernatural ways. But there were certain limits to their powers, and they were neither all-powerful nor all-knowing. Among demons, the most important figure was Ammut—the Devourer of the Dead—part crocodile, part lioness, and part hippopotamus. She was often shown near the scales on which the hearts of the dead were weighed against the feather of truth. She devoured the hearts of those whose wicked deeds in life made them unfit to enter the afterlife. Apepi, another important demon (sometimes called Apophis), was the enemy of the sun god in his daily cycle through the cosmos and is depicted as a colossal snake.

In the Duat—the realm between life and death, where the Nile of souls still flowed eternal—the major gods had gathered in the Hall of Two Truths. Osiris sat upon his throne of judgment, crook and flail resting across his lap, green skin glowing with the quiet authority of one who had died and returned. Anubis stood beside him, jackal head tilted, scales weighing an invisible heart that somehow kept tipping toward mercy. Thoth recorded everything with his ibis beak scratching across papyrus that never ran out. Isis watched with sharp, maternal eyes. Horus, falcon-headed, gripped his spear with the tension of a warrior who sensed a new kind of war. Bastet sat apart, tail flicking with barely contained energy.

Nut was the mother of Osiris, Isis, Seth, and Nephthys. Nut is usually shown in human form, her elongated body symbolizing the sky. Each limb represents a cardinal point as her body stretches over the earth. Nut swallowed the setting sun (Ra) each evening and gave birth to him each morning. She is often depicted on the ceilings of tombs, on the inside lid of coffins, and on the ceilings of temples.

Shu was the husband of Tefnut and the father of Nut and Geb. He and his wife were the first gods created by Atum. Shu was the god of the air and sunlight or, more precisely, dry air, and his wife represented moisture. He was normally depicted as a man wearing a headdress in the form of a plume, which is also the hieroglyph for his name.

Shu’s function was to hold up the body of the goddess Nun and separate the sky from the earth. He was not a solar deity, but his role in providing sunlight connected him to Ra. Indeed, he was one of the few gods who escaped persecution under the heretic king Akhenaten.

Geb was the father of Osiris, Isis, Seth, and Nephthys and was a god without a cult. As an earth god, he embodied fertility, and people believed that earthquakes were the laughter of Geb. He is mentioned in the Pyramid Texts as imprisoning the buried dead within his body.

They spoke of the Axis.

Osiris: He walks through Helheim carrying his own unfinished child and brings him home. He offers honest endings to gods who were written for war. He teaches mercy not as an exception but as the new law. That is to say that no one could ever pretend the old balance of Ma’at remains unchanged when a mortal refuses to let suffering stay eternal. The thing is, this love cannot pretend it does not include the risk of making us… optional.

Anubis: His heart weighs strangely. Not light. Not heavy. It carries every unfinished piece and still chooses to move forward. The scales do not know how to judge him. That is to say that no one could ever pretend justice is simple when mercy has learned how to finish what justice could only punish.

Thoth: His thread refuses categorization. The boy who solved every paradox at fourteen now solves endings themselves. The ring he carries is not of our forging, yet it echoes the old ways—continuity, memory, and refusal to let truth be erased. The thing is, this reality cannot pretend it knows how to file a soul who makes honest completion the default instead of an exception.

Isis: He loves without possession. He ends without erasure. He protects without domination. My sister Nephthys and I see echoes of what we once tried to do to bring life back from death, to make the broken whole. But he does it without needing crowns or resurrection spells. That is to say that no one could ever pretend divine love requires grand rituals when a mortal can simply choose to stay.

Horus: He is dangerous. Not because he seeks power. Because he makes power unnecessary. If mortals learn they can finish their own cycles cleanly, what need do they have for gods who demand offerings and obedience? The thing is, this love cannot pretend it does not include the fear of becoming irrelevant.

Bastet’s tail flicked faster. Her emerald eyes glowed with something deeper than curiosity, a sudden, chance-born warmth that had struck her like a sunbeam after long shadow when she first saw him on the riverbank.

Bastet: He is… kind. In the way cats are kind, fierce when needed, gentle when possible, and always honest. I watched him sit on those porch steps with his wife and still choose to see the small, ordinary world as enough. That is to say that no one could ever pretend love needs temples when it can grow on wooden steps in the rain. The thing is, this love cannot pretend it does not include falling by chance for the boy who refuses to let endings stay ugly.

The gods fell silent for a moment.

Osiris leaned forward, green hands resting on the arms of his throne.

Osiris: Then let Bastet go. She carries the heart of joy and protection. If anyone can understand this mortal who teaches gods how to rest, it is the Lady of Cats. Watch him. Learn from him. And if necessary… protect what he is trying to build. The thing is, this reality cannot pretend it does not need guardians who understand both ferocity and tenderness.

Bastet stood, graceful and eager, emerald eyes bright with purpose and something warmer.

Bastet: I will go. Not as a spy. Not as a weapon. As one who wishes to see what honest mercy looks like when it walks beside ordinary days. The thing is, this love cannot pretend it does not include the chance of falling by accident on a rainy riverbank for the boy who carries nine worlds and still chooses tea and porch steps.

The decision was made.

Bastet would go to Carlisle.

Not to test.

Not to conquer.

To observe.

To learn.

And perhaps, though none of them said it aloud, to fall in love by chance with the Axis, who had taught even the old gods how to finish their stories cleanly.

In the sense of having romantic relationships with the gods, especially in the manner depicted in myths, no. This doesn't happen, and you should be suspicious of anyone who says it does.

That being said, there is a deep undercurrent in ancient Greek poetry, literature, and philosophy of erotic mysticism, and Sappho is most certainly a part of this tradition. A later Greek author, Maximos of Tyre, wrote that Sappho taught an art of love (eros) among women just like Socrates taught among men—here he almost certainly is referring to their homoeroticism, but it goes a bit deeper than this when you compare it to Socrates' recorded teachings on love (eros).

In the dialogue Phaedrus, Socrates tells of how each soul is like a charioteer, and each charioteer is following a particular god or goddess in their chariot (it could be Zeus, Aphrodite, etc.). In the same dialogue, when describing 'erotic madness' (erotike mania; recall that Socrates and Plato think that madness/mania is a divine gift), he talks about how what we find beautiful in our partner(s)/beloved(s) reflects the aspects of whichever God our soul is 'following.'

Couple that with the common ancient conception, also discussed in Phaedrus but hinted at in Odyssey, Book 8 (Demodokos the poet in the court of the Phaiakians), that poetry and music were composed through divine inspiration, and I think a lot of Sappho's fragmentary poems start to feel right at home in ancient Greek literature and Hellenic polytheism.

I think it's not unreasonable to think of Sappho's erotic poetry, describing her longing for women like Anactoria, etc., as reflecting the fact that Sappho's soul was 'following' in the train or series (to use a technical, philosophical term) of Aphrodite. She saw Aphrodite reflected in her beloved and through her erotic poetry attained deep and profound union with Aphrodite. Hence, later Greeks called Sappho the 'tenth muse,' attributing to her a kind of divine status.

The Egyptian pantheon watched her go, Osiris with quiet hope, Anubis with careful scales, Thoth with a scratching pen, Isis with a knowing smile, and Horus with wary respect.

And somewhere far below, in the small house in Carlisle where tea still remembered how to be warm, Karl felt the distant approach through the Omega ring, another ancient presence drawn into the honest new story by the simple, terrifying power of a mortal who refused to let endings stay ugly.

The story continued.

And the Lady of Cats was already smiling.