The Me of Perfect Sight
Flash-fiction - by Marie Brennan
The hall of the Abzu-temple was impossibly vast, and impossibly full. On shelves to either side, on tables down the center, stood the holy me: the decrees of Anu, the supreme god of the land between the rivers, which made all things of the world come into being.
Enki, god of the waters, god of the earth, walked the length of the hall. Past the me of the exalted and enduring crown; past the me of the destruction of cities; past the me of the craft of the leatherworker. The me of lamentation; the me of rejoicing of the heart; the me of holy purification -- to all of them he paid no heed, until he came to the end of the hall, and the farthest corner of the highest shelf.
Enki, god of mischief, god of knowledge, reached out his hand and took up the me of perfect sight.
Time and space unfolded for him like the petals of a lotus. He looked at the me of the flood, and he saw the Tigris and Euphrates, the Nile, the Yellow River, the Mississippi. He saw the heroes of the great flooding of the earth: Atrahasis, Noah, Dà Yŭ, Bergelmir, Cessair, Manuśraddhādeva, Deucalion and Pyrrha.
He looked at the me of kingship, and he saw a rex, a raja, an oba, a tsar. He saw kindly kings and cruel kings, wise kings and foolhardy kings, kings beheaded by their subjects, kings overthrown and their thrones left empty. He saw Arthur and the fall of Camelot, Jimmu and a line that lasted for thousands of years.
He looked at the me of descent into the underworld, and he saw a crucifix, a ball of heavy rubber, a pomegranate seed. He looked at the me of ascent from the underworld, and he saw a divine corpse taken from a hook; he saw a man turning to look back too soon. He saw the holy form of that me dropped to the floor of a cave in horror at the sight of putrefaction -- and because of that loss, ages later, the light of the frozen north would stay in the land of Hel.
Enki, god of creation, god of crafts, looked at the me of family.
He saw his daughter Inanna; he saw his granddaughter Inanna. He saw her come to his Abzu-temple. He looked at the me of inebriation and saw Inanna cunningly plying him with beer; he saw himself drunkenly pledging to her all the me within this hall, hers to claim and use as she willed. He looked at the me of the sukkal and saw himself sending that lieutenant to take back what he had promised to Inanna; he saw Inanna’s sukkal raise her sword in response and defeat the monsters he sent against her. He looked at all the me that filled his hall and saw them gone, taken away to be placed in the great city of Uruk, the holy city of Inanna.
Fury rose in his heart. Was he some weak-willed fool, to be robbed of his treasures so easily? Was he to be the laughingstock of the world, deceived by his own kin? Having seen the trap laid for his feet, how could he fail to avoid it now?
He gazed the length of the hall, taking in all the holy me, all the things made by Anu for the world. Like a mosaic, the single pieces formed a larger whole -- and in the image they formed, he saw civilization rise in Uruk. Then fall, then rise again, countless times through the ages, in countless places between the rivers and in the lands beyond them.
Enki looked at the me of perfect sight.
He called to his sukkal, ordering that butter cakes and cold water be given to Inanna when she came, ordering that his bronze vessels be filled with beer -- strong beer, lakes and oceans of it, enough to render even a god drunk.
Then he took the me of perfect sight and smashed it against the floor.
In later ages, shards of that shattered decree would find their way to other lands. They would pierce the eyes and hearts of gods and spirits and mortals, granting slivers of the power that had once been. But the me of perfect sight was broken; the visions it had granted slipped from his mind. Never again would anyone hold it in their hand and see with flawless clarity all that would come to pass.
Enki, god of wisdom, left the hall of his Abzu-temple, and went to bid Inanna welcome.