The Post-Deity Pharaoh

It only takes two heartbeats to realize I am not a god.

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Thump. 

A single beat, a pump of blood through my body, a pulse. 

I had ordered my guards away. They were gawking and I was unnerved. It was a natural reaction, considering I was naked and they were not. I walked into the water, staring out at the line of ocean and sky, blueish-gray and blueish-white. It was a clear day - I could see and be seen for a mile up and down the waterfront. I remembered that I can control weather, like the spring rains that water our fields and free us from droughts. I have never been taught this skill, but I’ve been told I have it. So I told the clouds to rain. 

THUMP.

I hear the second heartbeat in my ears. 

The ringing left after the beat gives the illusion that there is no crowd here, there is no noise, there are no street vendors with likenesses of my face and unlikenesses of my body - muscular Pharaohs with none of the weaknesses associated with humanity. All is wiped away from the earth and I remember that just two days ago I was on the battlefield with my father, watching Egyptian men kneel before him and pledging fealty forever - this life, the next, and whatever comes after that, too. One swarthy warrior told him that he would wash my father’s feet with the blood of our enemies. I think he meant it. Which is gross.

So when my father died that day, I stood in his blood-stained spot of sand and accepted their praise and nodded as if I was owed their service, owed their loyalty. That’s what my kingdom asked of me. That’s what my father asked of me. Be a leader who is worthy, even if I do no more than worthily pretend. I told the rain to wash away the darkened sand.

THUNK.

Not a heartbeat this time. 

This time I feel the new pressure of my headdress, a weight that is not leaving anytime soon. Someone behind me is yelling about my godhood into the noise in front of me. There is no end to this noise and I realize that the thousands of faceless people will cheer until I make them stop, because, after all, I am their god. I stand, now a full Pharaoh. They finally have their deity, and they are frothing with anticipation - literally begging to hear whatever I want to say. 

I wish the people would go home. I look to the sky and beg it with my eyes to fall; to stop being so damned blue. I see the sand stay darkened with crowded people for a mile up and down the riverfront. I hear people telling me I am their worthy leader. Boats float past and see me, feeling naked and alone.

Knowing I am not a god, I command them to be silent and expect obedience. I thump my staff on the stage and trust that my priests will perform sacrifices in my name. Knowing I am not a god, I declare that the people will have peace and riches. Knowing I am not a god, I declare my power and order celebration across the entire kingdom.

I say a silent prayer for rain.