Alan shuffled through his notes in frustration. 'What does that even say?' he exclaimed to no one. He then attempted the age old trick of turning the page at various angles to see if that sparked anything. 'Fabulous Aubergine? What's a fabulous Aubergine?'
His detailed report of two thousand years of his time on Earth was nearly complete, but he would be damned if he could remember what he was doing in August of 86.
A whisper of light followed by a gust of air sealed Alan's frustration.
'Get lost, Hermes. I'm trying to concentrate.'
'Well concentrate on this,' smiled Hermes: 'Brahma wants you in his office, now.'
'Brahma! But he's Chief Worship Output Officer, and he's all the way up in the Valhalla Corporate Plaza. What does he want to see me for?'
Hermes grinned broadly then vanished in a hiss of air, sending Alan's notes scattering clean across his desk. He watched them flutter onto the floor and sighed the sombre sigh of the weary before picking himself up and leaving the office.
Visiting Valhalla was like going to hospital to get test results: there was a clinical sterility to the place that tightened the sphincter and you rarely came away with good news.
This was where the truly transcendent deities ended up and you could smell it. It was a purpose built dimension with no expense spared. It was as old as time yet smelt brand new - Gods like Alan could only visit, they could never stay.
Alan was stopped by a Cerberus security guard who checked his credentials and led him across the perfectly manicured courtyard, passing the over-staffed Starbucks and into a waiting room bigger than the department he worked in. There he was left waiting, suspended in space and time.
They always did this, it was just another of their unnecessary power trips. What was it about the celestial C Suite that brought out the redundant megalomania? He never understood it. They'd spent their entire careers obsessing over the control of every creature in the universe, so you'd think they'd give it a rest when it came to one of their own.
He looked about his divine surroundings - they had redecorated since the last time he was there and there was a definite upgrade in relativity - it was nice, really brightened the place up.
He picked up a marketing orb and scrolled through a brochure of different historical events of commercial success that changed Worship forever: the collapse of the Gorgon empire in year -235; the cataclysmic explosion of Nebulous six that took out half the universe the Wednesday after pancake day, and his personal favourite: the cold February morning in 1926 when John Logie Baird took a football to the groin sparking the idea of Television. Alan had actually been lucky enough to see this event first hand and it went down as one of the few occasions those creatures actually made him laugh.
In all honesty, he couldn't wait to be done with them - they'd caused him nothing but embarrassment and humiliation.
Finally, Alan was summoned and he stepped into the realm of Brahma. Everything about the place was designed to deliberately undermine. The realm was set to a ratio ten times greater than that which enters, so no matter how big Alan made himself, he was always looked down upon.
Brahma was reclined in his chair with his bare feet on the desk when Alan floated in. His three heads, preoccupied by three different monitors were each wearing golden beanies that illuminated the endless office space in a glorious golden sunlight. His four hands were simultaneously typing, scrolling, stirring his frappuccino and holding a single lotus flower that hovered peacefully above his open palm.
Alan rolled his eyes. He was one of those 'creative types' who felt that just because they didn't wear shoes and did yoga, they weren't a corporate tool. Alan looked him up and down with contempt - he was wearing rolled up dungarees, a lumberjack shirt and had a waxed moustache over a long white beard. Corporate or not, Brahma was a massive tool.
'Hipsters,' despaired Alan under his breath.
Brahma's three sets of eyes, highlighted by three applications of guyliner, flashed daggers at him before flicking back to their monitors.
Still Alan waited.
Eventually, he finished typing with a flourish and pointed Alan towards a beanbag.
'I'll just float, thanks,' said Alan politely.
'Suit yourself,' he replied pushing the intercom. 'We're ready for you now.'
A portal of emerald light opened up to his left and out morphed Osiris and another deity he'd never seen before.
'Osiris,' said Alan confused. 'Paperwork is nearly complete. What's this all about.'
'Why don't you tell us,' replied Brahma, offering everyone a Haribo Tangfastic.
'I...' stammered Alan as if it were an answer.
'You've been a busy little deity, haven't you?'
'I...' Alan repeated.
'Did you really think you could bring the grid down without me noticing, you little punk. I built this system. How long did you think you could hide that sub account before my people found it?'
'Bring the grid down? No, I...'
'This is being treated as an act of corporate terrorism, Alan,' hissed Osiris. 'This is Carol from HR to oversee proceedings.'
'HR! Wait a minute. I...'
'You were so enraged with being taken off field duty you created a sub account to take the humans offline while you whipped their primitive minds up into a blood frenzy to overload the grid with blood sacrifices and cripple this company,' pointed Brahma in self satisfaction, 'and my department caught you. I tell you, if it was any other species killing themselves in that volume, half the multiverse would be in total blackout.'
'No,' yelled Alan, 'I'd found a loophole, that's all. Osiris took me off fieldwork but I still had a way of getting over 50%...'
'Let me guess,' smirked Brahma, 'by showing yourself to the humans while they were off Earth?'
Alan looked genuinely dumbfounded.
'I'm not falling for this. Even the greenest Exec with the most base knowledge of humans knows this trick and they still wouldn't touch it. Humans are too primitive, too erratic. You open their minds just a little and they crack. Nah, this is sabotage. You'd only show yourself to humans for two reasons: you want to break the system or you're dumb as toast, and no one is that dumb. So what was it? Daddy not showing you enough attention?'
'I just wanted to get over 50% and move off the Earth account,' said Alan, quietly.
Brahma looked suspiciously across to Osiris who hovered, motionless.
'There has always been a lack of finesse and grace about your work, Alan, so I dare say you're telling the truth, but you must understand, your Worship Ratio has now spiked at 91%.'
'The entire Andromeda galaxy will be in blackout for the remainder of the century,' declared Brahma.
'Never have we had a spike that severe. If it were any other account, we would have to shut the system down entirely. It could have crippled this company.'
'As it stands, you've already knocked 2% off the company share price.'
'2% Alan! Plus, you've pushed the human race to the edge of extinction - an account this company has held for over 200 thousand years. All that death, Alan, all of it in your name.'
'What?' said Alan. 'I only left them alone for a minute.'
'That's why you're fired, bro.' said Brahma.
'Fired!'
'Well,' interjected Osiris, 'for the moment you are just suspended, but once the humans are officially extinct and the Earth account defunct, then it will become gross misconduct.'
'Then you have to let me stop them!' panicked Alan, backing out towards the door.
'You're welcome to try,' hissed Osiris calmly, 'but I fear the damage is already done.'
Alan felt himself exist only as a divine cloud of disappointment as he rushed towards the door of their dimension.
'Oh, and Alan,' whispered Osiris serenely.
Alan turned with a glimmer of hope. 'Yes Osiris?'
'You have grown fat from their biscuits.'
'Yes Osiris,' slumped Alan, letting the dimensional door hit him on the way out.