by D.M. Jewelle
The place where the Gods dwell, where they create life, exert power and enforce the natural laws of the universe is not a pantheon, as many historians, mythology researchers and fine vocabularists would have you think.
Originally, a bunch of Gods built a gigantic palace. It had a courtyard the size of 50 tennis courts, and within its walls were residential apartments for different staff of different levels, a building with a balcony for addressing the public, administration office for bureaucratic matters, a museum for tourists curious to see the machinations and artifacts of Gods past and present, sports complexes, a military base including training camp, underground nuclear missile launcher, crypts and graveyard for the deceased Gods and the main building housed parliament and senate meetings, as well as the several thousand offices and research laboratories for each and every member of the God Senate, among other things. Back then it had no name, so the Gods were at quite a loss at what to call it. Some said it was “my workplace”, while others with higher aspirations (read: delusions) of grandeur dubbed it “the once and future place of all things nihilistic come to pass within my lordly grasp” (nobody, not even the God who said this knew what it meant). Then there were the disgruntled nutjobs, stressed at their workload and low rank and called the place “HELL” which just brought all sorts of disturbing connotations and controversies to the scandal-hungry media, who in turn had a field day highlighting the corruption, discrimination, and inequality of the common workers. Several bills and a workers’ revolution later, all complications were ironed out and the non-senate staff finally earned minimal wage and all was good, but they still could not agree on a name for the damned place.
One day when parliament was in session, a very stoned God pointed out the area’s familiarity with a location he had come upon during his travels.
“Yanno, this place…s’really like this place I saw a while back…looks LOTS like this here…They got, like, pictures EVERYWHERE d00d…there’s this gigantic pic fulla naked peeps on the ceiling lounging on clouds….and there’s this guy they call the Pope or sumthin….kinda like THE God we got….no offense yer Honour…wears one damn funky hat, it’s so cool they don’t even got a name, s’just “The Pope Hat”…annnnnd….well there’s not much, but it rilly rilly REAAAALLY looks like this here place, assif sum guy popped over and ripped off th’ designs maaaan…”
Most of the Gods were too busy figuring out what he said or whether he was within Session rules to participate in such a questionable state (upon learning that he was the Stoner God, God of planet 5-HT2A, also known as delein-los, a planet with the most species of naturally-growing drug sources, it was shrugged off), when God, chair of Parliament and generally THE God, asked him a question in return.
“Are you suggesting we name this place The Vatican as well?”
“Nonononoooo, it’d be too confooozing f’r everyone to hafta ask if it’s the Vatican from ZGMF-X20A, or maybe a Vatican from anudda planet, like say, FX-550…does that planet exist?….so yeah, wouldn’t wanna plagiarise the little people we made, so like, d00d, let’s call it The Vatican…. *mumble*ny…. Place…..” the God wiggled his palm before he halted his elaborate hand and body gestures all together and collapsed to the grey-blue carpeting in an unceremonious heap and THUMP.
A few Gods tried the suggestion; It rolled off the tongue well. Casual, yet not colloquial; Formal, but accessible. Easy to remember, yet it wouldn’t be the butt of a million off-colour jokes. A motion was unanimously passed, and everyone left satisfied that they now had a name for their place, forgetting The Stoner God was still passed out on the floor. The word spread, a public declaration was made, and it grew close to the hearts of Gods, Commons, and everyone in between.
And so it became The Vaticanny Place, and all was Good.