Chapter 64 – Wonder Pt. 2

August 21, 2010 -  Washington, DC

The Wonder Dome

17:29:24

As the pair entered the Wonder Dome’s main building, Connor discovered the five pointed star shaped building actually had multiple levels. The surface level building was a bit more than two stories tall, but it extended deeper into the island itself. The above ground portion was light and airy, wide open spaces with tall windows that let much of the evening sunlight in. Each point of the star contained a different wing of the building, with stairs going down to the sections between the points that lay below the surface. It was clear that the layout of the place wasn’t the five pointed star on the surface, but the entire ring area that encircled it. It made the whole place circular, with broad halls between the points in the basement level that they wandered through as Diana showed him each of the points’ halls. The whole building took up a little less than half of the interior of the island.

Connor marveled at the architecture, a startling mix of Classical Greek and a more modern style. But it felt strangely authentic to the classical style, like it was a continuation rather than a revival of or aping, like Neo-Classical buildings were. It evoked the idea of ancient Greeks with access to modern building materials and architectural styles. He was no expert on architecture but it felt unique, unlike anything he had ever seen. Diana gave him a guided tour through the upper floors. Each was a high ceilinged, vaulted chamber lined with columns and full of displays of staggering uniqueness.

The Hall of Wonders and Miracles was like a museum of magical and technological artifacts, and fascinated him. One display declared it held the Harpe, the sickle sword that Zeus had used to slay the Titan Cronus and free his siblings from their father’s gullet. The short, single edged, hooked bronze blade definitely gave a feeling of incredible antiquity. Beside was a duplicate of the Magic Sphere, a white ceramic orb with a glass display on one end, larger in diameter than he was tall, which could scry on any place or person in the world, if the user knew how to use it. He had no reason to doubt the veracity of the displays, which seemed to be a Greek mythologist’s wet dream. The Golden Fleece sat on a pedestal next to the Antikythera Mechanism, the latter of which included a long notecard that explained what it actually calculated.

Next was the Menagerie of Myths, which was dedicated to mythical beings and monsters. Many stuffed or preserved monsters were on display. Or at least, he thought they were stuffed; there was some kind of technology at play he wasn’t familiar with on some displays. The monsters on display, from pegasii to gorgons, seemed too lifelike to have been stuffed but they were so still they looked like statues. He wondered if they were actually in stasis of some kind, but was too distracted by the amazing creatures to inquire deeply. Some displays were only remnants or hides of presumably extinct monsters, like the preserved skin of the Nemean Lion, or arrows whose heads were scoured and blackened from as if from acid that had apparently been dipped in the blood of the Lemean Hydra. 

The next hall was the Menagerie of the World, which was a naturalist’s dream. It wasn’t a zoo, unless the perfectly realistic but utterly still animals were in stasis like the monsters in the previous hall. But it showcased different natural environments and animals, many of whom had their protection sponsored by Themyscira, and the displays explained how the Amazons had worked with the nations of the world to protect ‘Gaea’s Children’ and promoted ‘Gaea’s Way.’ There were a number of photos of Amazons working with and training anti-poaching teams, and the grizzled women depicted were certainly something, in Connor’s eyes. He wondered how much better Terra’s ecology was compared to his Earth, as it seemed the Amazons did incredible work protecting endangered species and wild lands, while Atlanteans protected sea life, if the pictures of gilled humanoids detaining whaling and fishing vessels was any indication. Unfortunately, he just didn’t know the facts from his home world, but he suspected it was better here. 

The Hall of Olympus was the next best thing to a temple, though it didn’t seem a place of worship. It was like the other halls, a place of learning but not a museum. The statues here were like the ones outside; brightly painted with hyper realistic colors. It threw Connor off a bit, because he was expecting the stark white marble he knew lay beneath. The goddesses on display were familiar; Hera, Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena, Demeter, Hecate and Hestia. He knew Aphrodite, Artemis and Athena were very important to the Amazon mythos, but he was surprised to see the statue of Hera enthroned and wearing golden laurels. Most curiously of all, she held a golden lightning bolt in her hands.

Diana was explaining the role of each of the goddesses in the pantheon, but Connor’s mind was racing as he looked about the rest of the room. The only gods he saw were Apollo, the sun god, Artemis’ twin (and his teammates’ namesake) and Hermes, the messenger of the gods, in his winged helm and sandals. The same kind of sandals Diana wore, and let her fly if he recalled her arrival at Cadmus the night he woke up on Terra. He couldn’t remember what they were called until he focused his vision on the plaque by the messenger god; the talaria. The statue’s were painted in gold leaf, but Diana’s appeared to be actual gold. Forged by Hephaestus, according to the information plaque, like her armor.

Something is different here. Something is… off.

He couldn’t quite place it. Greek mythology (or religion, in this case) wasn’t a favorite of his. Zeus, he recalled, was god of the sky and storms, and the thunderbolt was his weapon. Truthfully, he only knew the outline of the most famous myths and a lot of that was from comic books. 

Specifically, Wonder Woman comics. 

“Connor? Is something wrong?” Diana’s voice cut through his wandering thoughts and brought his attention back to her. He ducked his head, shame faced that his attention had wandered.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry. Got a little distracted. This stuff is… a little different from what I remember back home.” He said, uncertain of his footing and afraid of giving offence.

“What do you mean?” Diana asked, cocking her head and fixing him with those crystal blue eyes. He got a little lost in them before his mouth remembered to answer.

“Its just… this isn’t how it is back home… I think? There are other gods. I’m not sure if the Amazons worship them. I’m sure our Wonder Woman has mentioned them. Do you not have Zeus and Ares and the others?” He asked, fumbling over his words as he saw Diana’s brow knit in thought. Connor’s worries spiked as he was afraid he’d said something insulting or blasphemous, but Diana took a deep breath and a moment before she answered him.

“The other Olympians exist, yes. But the Amazons do not worship them, and there are precious few these days that do. That is for the best.” She said after some consideration.

That’s not a very satisfying answer. Its not something she wants to talk about, clearly. I hope I didn’t offend her. I really don’t know what I’m talking about, just this seems off to me. It feels like an absence, like where there is nothing where there ought to be something. Maybe its just me. But why cut out the other Olympians?

His curiosity was not fully assuaged by Diana’s answer, but he knew he should tread carefully around any person’s religion. Especially when his knowledge of it was so suspect.

“I’m sorry if that was offensive.” He began but Diana raised a hand.

“Its quite alright, Connor. You come from another world entirely. A world that is very different. This must all seem at least a little strange to you.” She said, and waved him to her side. He followed, and they walked before the statue of Hera. It was central in the hall, and the other six goddesses lined the approach to her statue, which was set higher and enthroned, where the other goddesses stood. It certainly looked like she held court, and they attended her. Once more, his eyes were drawn to the golden thunderbolt laid across her lap. 

The goddess of mothers was depicted seated, on a wide and backless throne. Around her shoulders was wrapped a cloak of peacock feathers, painted in a kaleidoscope of greens and blues. Each feather was tipped with a painted eye, more realistically rendered on the statue than a real bird’s feather. She was a beautiful and matronly figure, commanding yet softened with concern. She wore a chiton, a traditional Grecian dress, in royal purple with gold painted threads and fasteners. Atop her head were golden laurels, and with his microscopic vision, he saw that these were actual gold and not just painted stone. 

The statue was beautiful, a masterpiece of sculpting. Hera’s eyes were the most impressive part, both the ones on her face and the many more repeated on her peacock cloak. They were hyperrealistic, and he swore he could see them glisten with wetness. Her pupils were so deep and black, he thought they were a void and infinity lay beyond them. What was most disquieting was that same effect repeated on each and every eye painted on the tips of the peacock feathers. He felt the weight of all those eyes upon him.

Connor shivered at the sensation, and then froze as he realized how many impossible things he had experienced in the last two months, and just who he stood next to.

This isn’t in my head. 

He glanced at Diana, who was looking up with adoration at the idol, a faint and beauteous smile on her face. If something about the statue seemed strange to her, she gave no sign of it. Looking back at the statue, he felt his blood turn to ice.

Hera was looking at him.

Not the statue, or any sculptor’s trick to make a work’s eyes seem to follow the viewer.

There was no statue now.

A goddess sat enthroned before him, with life and breath in her, and now as he gazed into her eyes he saw the endless void in the blacks of her eyes. All the eyes on all the peacock feathers, now flowing and real, had also fixed Her gaze on him. Hera breathed in, and he knew that She Was Here. He felt the pull of her gaze and as their eyes met, She Saw Him.

His heart skipped a beat and he blinked, and the moment was gone.

The statue was back in its place where a second ago, a goddess had sat and looked at him.

LOOKED AT HIM.

His heart began to race, but he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

Its okay, its okay. A goddess looked at me. That’s fine. A Lord of Order tried to body jack me the other day. Hera was just… looking at me. She’s allowed to do that. 

She’s a goddess, after all.

His face screwed up as he tried to square that one. Intellectually, he knew that the Amazons worshipped the Olympians. Diana’s birth was literally a miracle of theirs. But what had seemed a fine and interesting story in a comic book seemed much more existentially threatening when it made manifest in front of him.

Worse, when it paid attention to him.

He had grown up Catholic, and while he had left it behind, it still shaped how he thought of the world. He didn’t believe in the Christian god, but now he was confronted with entirely different gods that he was now quite certain were real and were much more resistant to being dismissed as superstitions. That… warranted thinking about.

Later.

“We have spoken about your ‘Earth’, and some of its history and mythology before.” Diana said, not looking away from her contemplation of the idol. She had a similar tone to when she instructed him, but this time with a deeper warmth. It sounded more like a priest giving a much loved sermon. “You have told me about ‘your’ Wonder Woman.” 

Diana turned and smiled at him with her wine red lips, which caused a warm flush in him, even as he shifted uncomfortably. Already his momentary religious crisis was forgotten as soon as he saw her smile.

“Well, not ‘mine’... but… yeah.” He finished lamely, and she chuckled, a musical note that raised his spirits.

“Just so. But do you know of how the Amazons of your world came to be?” She asked, turning more serious.

Connor paused, wracking his brains as he tried to draw out that memory, before realizing that it was likely in his memory palace, along with all of his other memories. The G-Gnome’s had sorted and categorized everything his mind contained, along with the information about Terra and the purpose Cadmus had for him. He realized that was how his brothers had realized what he was; Dubbilex had told him they had seen the outside world, the nature of reality, and possibilities for themselves in his memories. They must have opened up his mind to fill it with the knowledge he would need, and found a treasure trove of things their creators didn’t want them to know. They had built the memory palace for him, to section off his mind and memories between what was truly his and what they had been made to put in him. 

This revelation overawed him, and he decided it too had to be explored later. Now, he had to find his answer to Diana’s question. 

He closed his eyes and opened his mind’s eye to walk the corridors of the hospital. He began, as he always seemed to, in the lobby and navigated his way to his room. There, the stack of comics sat upon the rolling tray where his mom had left them for him. These were, of course, not the real comics they depicted. He hadn’t actually read those. But his trip here through the medium of the Helmet of Fate and his discussion with Kent Nelson had made him realize there was so much more to the memory palace. They were now artifacts of his memory palace that symbolized the knowledge contained within.

Up until now, he had only passively utilized the mental construct. The information about Terra that had been planted in his mind at Cadmus’ direction always seemed to come to him unbidden. He thought of a topic or question, and then the knowledge spilled out into his brain where before he had no clue about it. If he started verbally explaining it, the words would spill out of him like a faucet. But he wouldn’t even know what he was saying until he heard those words himself. Once he had accessed some part of the palace, that knowledge stayed with him and he could dive deeper into it. But there was no index or directory that he knew of; things were stored anywhere and everywhere. The world map of Terra was a part of Jeremy’s room, for some reason. His friend hadn’t even been interested in geography, though.

Perhaps the G-Gnomes had simply stuck things wherever they could find space. Any librarian would have a conniption at the lack of organization.

Connor had heard of memory palaces in his old life, but they had seemed like bunk. The idea was that you could take a core memory, a place you knew in exacting detail, and store memories of other things in it. Obviously, his took the form of Boston Children’s Hospital, since so many of his memories were here. He would have preferred anywhere else, but it hadn’t been up to him. The concept that you could memorize things, even whole books and other reference material, and then associate that memory with something in the memory palace, like his stack of comics, had seemed ridiculous. But he knew there were people who claimed to be able to do it, and demonstrated impressive feats of recall.

Now he was in a world with goddesses and super women and monsters, so he supposed he should keep an open mind. His genetically engineered, psychic ‘little brothers’ had built this one for him, so doubting was stupid, since he had already experienced its efficacy. But now he was hoping to stretch that efficacy, hoping that their organization included everything he had known in his old life. 

He walked over to the table, and sorted through the stack of comics. Superman was on top, followed by Batman and Green Lantern, and a few other books from other publishers. He doubted very much he would need to know their comic universes in as much detail, unless life became very strange, indeed. He wondered if the G-Gnomes had associated that knowledge with them, or put something like his fluency in Vietnamese there. Finally he found the Wonder Woman comic in the stack, took a deep mental breath and opened it.

A thousand pages spilled open before him, panels and covers and dialogue boxes flipping open and scattering past as he saw the totality of decades of comic books skip past his eyes like leaves on the wind in a hurricane. Every Wonder Woman comic he had ever read was here, in a blizzard of art and prose. Art styles shifted and morphed, words changed diction and style, canons were established, mutated and retconned. He tried to focus, to find the things he was looking for, and the furiously flipping pages began to slow. The early issues could be skipped over; Diana’s creator had been a unique man with a very different view on the world, but only the broadest strokes of her original version survived. He skipped forward, finding the important parts in other writers’ tenures, the parts that had stuck through retcons and relaunches. No time at all seemed to pass, but then he snapped the comic book shut again, and opened his real eyes.

“The goddesses saw all the evil that men did to women, everywhere, all the time.” He began, with a hard swallow. He felt some pangs of guilt, though he knew he hadn’t been responsible for those evils. “Their oppression, their exploitation. Their pain and… their deaths.” He winced, seeing the stark red blood on blackened backgrounds. “They were angry, for themselves, for their daughters, for women everywhere.”

Connor paused and looked at Diana, who gave him a slight smile and encouraging nod to continue. He swallowed again, feeling foolish to tell someone their own history and myths, but kept going. He hoped he didn’t fumble it.

“The goddesses brought their complaints to Zeus, and the other gods. They laid out their case. They asked that things change, for everyone.” He grew less certain as he watched Diana’s face. He wasn’t sure if he remembered wrong, but she didn’t interrupt him, so he continued. “Zeus and the other gods didn’t listen. They didn’t want to listen; they liked things the way they were. It was they who had arranged them, just so. So the goddesses went into the Underworld and found the souls of… murdered women. They collected them up and gave them new life, and new bodies. They trained them and set them loose to be women’s protectors. The goddesses taught them Gaea’s way, and charged them to show the world a better way.”

His face had grown a little red by the time he was finished, and his heart ached to think of the ancient world and all its inequities. It was an ugly thing to think about. How cruel men could be, especially to women. 

Men who ruled cities and empires, making war and ravaging populations. Soldiers killing, raping and enslaving. Priests and philosophers denouncing women, excluding them from halls of piety and learning, denigrating their contributions. Merchants and tradesmen cheating and disregarding women as foolish and flighty, cheating them of their money and taking advantage of their position. Common men, fathers, husbands and brothers, controlling and exploiting the women in their lives. He recalled that in Rome, a pater familia could sell any member of his household into slavery to cover his own debts. Women suffered this fate often, and men usually wanted strong sons. So much so that they would sell off or abandon girl children to die of exposure.

His own life hadn’t seen much of that, but he knew it happened, all over the world. Women and girls abused, trafficked, exploited. The day he learned how many women experienced sexual assault in their lives was a sobering one. The modern world had changed things, and women were recognized as equal in theory if not in practice. Better in some places, worse in others. There had been a constant struggle, over centuries and to the present day, for women to assert themselves and claim the rights they were due. It went on and on, even in his own time. His mother had told him about marching for women’s rights and equality, before he had been born. Of fighting just to be acknowledged at her own job, where men tried to dismiss her.

It was a constant drumbeat of evil all across the world. It felt bad to count oneself as a man, to be on that side of things, when the scales of justice were weighted so heavily in the other direction. To know your own privilege was a terrible burden, even worse to try to reckon with it. It hurt to think of being any part of that side, when you knew the scales should be even but they were anything but. He knew he hadn’t done those things, that he knew they were wrong. He would stand up against anyone who did.

It wasn’t fair.

None of it was.

It was so unfair that a man had been inspired, with his partners, to create an Amazon heroine to challenge Man’s World.

“You have much of it correct.” Diana said softly after a long pause, absorbing his words. Connor was wary, worried he had messed something up. “But is that where the tale ends?”

“No, it doesn’t. But it… happened a long time ago. Some of it is myth, now.” He said, and Diana smiled at his word choice. “What I mean is, its not clear. Some things are contradictory.”

Contradictory is underselling it. 69 years of Wonder Woman comics, a couple of reboots and throw in a handful of Crises will make a mess out of anyone’s history or myths. Not to mention cartoons, movies, shows and games adding their spins, and the Elseworlds.

Huh. Right, I live in an Elseworld, now. That’s hard to remember. 

Keeping his knowledge of ‘canon’ and Terra’s actual ‘history’ was going to be an even bigger pain than arguing with other comic fans on the internet. He would have to start a new room in the memory palace to keep it straight.

“I see.” Diana said, a hand on her perfectly sculpted chin as she thought. “Then I shall continue the tale, so that you know it true from a trusted source.”

Connor sighed with relief, already mentally preparing to remember this properly.

“The six goddesses did as you recall. They gathered the souls of women slain unjustly from the Well of Souls in Tartarus, at no little trouble. They were assisted, surreptitiously, in this by their closest allies among the gods. Bright Apollo, twin to night-clad Artemis, dazzled the sight of Zeus and the gods. Swift-footed Hermes helped bear them to Tartarus, that they might enact their grand design.” Diana said, indicating the gods in their respectful places, inclining her head solemnly in respect to each. Connor was relieved that someone in Mt. Olympus had appreciated the rightness of the cause. 

“They gathered up those lost souls into an ewer, and into it they poured their respective blessings. Fair Aprodite offered her tears, to give us passion and the restless nature of the ocean.” As Diana spoke, her voice gained a rhythm and cadence that felt like a ritual recitation. He recalled the ancient Greeks had an oral tradition, that epics like The Odyssey would be recited for hours by a master poet from memory. The tale of the Amazons had such a gravity. He looked at Aphrodite’s smiling statue, her hair pink as cherry blossoms as she rose out of clear blue seafoam at her dainty, sun kissed feet. It seemed like a crime to make her cry. She was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at her.

“Demeter, she of the Grain, offered a pomegranate seed from the fruit that bound her to Hades, and a leaf from the Stygian elm. With those gifts, she filled us with dreams and ideas, the greatest of bounties. The seeds from which all greatness will grow.” Connor looked to the harvest goddess’ statue, where she stood barefoot upon the earth, a bountiful sheaf of grain in one hand, and a half of a pomegranate in the other. Her dress was straw colored, while her mantle was the green of new shoots in spring. Flowers and fruits bloomed in her hair.

“Moon-lit Artemis offered her own rib, torn from her flesh just above her heart. She gave it to us to set us free, granting us courage and liberty.” The goddess of the hunt and moon stood, short and lithe compared to the other goddesses, a headdress upon her brow with two curved horns facing up, evoking the crescent moon. In her left hand she clutched her bow and her right held up the rib, as an offering. She had a feral and ecstatic beauty to her, like a wild cat, awesome and dangerous.

“Hecate, goddess of witchcraft, offered dirt and clay. From which all living things come, and whence they will return. She gave us the gift of fear, and the mastery of self that comes with temperance.” Diana said, indicating the goddess. Connor shivered at her words. Fear didn’t seem like a good gift, but Hecate was a frightening being. She wore a spiked crown and ravens perched on her shoulders, and she was wrapped in a black cloak over her white chiton. A savage looking hound lounged at her feat, its mouth open to show its cruel fangs and panting tongue.

Connor froze again, looking from goddess to goddess. He saw the same details as he had before, but now he Saw them. 

The hound panting at Hecate’s feet. An unseen wind making the sheaf of grain in Demeter’s hand sway. The blood dripping from Artemis’ hand. The glistening tear that flowed down Aphrodite’s perfect face.

They Were Here.

Like Hera had been.

The ancient Greeks had filled their temples with statues like this. He had learned this in world history classes. They were called idols, and a focus of their worship. Prayers, rituals, offerings and sacrifices were made to them. They believed the gods could inhabit the idols, and work miracles through them. Glancing at Aphrodite, he recalled a few worshippers had fallen in love with gods through their idols. It seemed that, at least in this place, with Diana at his side, the goddesses could do that as well. 

Diana’s voice had lost none of its solemn and ritual cadence, but she didn’t seem to notice the attention her goddesses were paying to this moment. 

Or this is what usually happens, so this is completely normal and I’m freaking out for no reason.

Diana continued, and Connor suppressed another shudder, in case any watching goddesses took offense. They came to a familiar statue, a miniature of the colossus outside. 

“Pallas Athena, mistress of wisdom and strategy, gave a blade of sharpened steel.” The goddess held a spear in one hand, and her bronze helmet was slid up to reveal her bright eyed face. The blade was shining steel, long and leaf shaped, and it gleamed with polish and a razor’s edge. “With it, she granted strength and cunning.”

Connor swore he saw the goddess’ knuckles tighten around the shaft before he looked away.

“Hestia, keeper of the hearthfire, gave a burning coal from Mt. Olympus, and gave us the fire of life.” The goddess was pleasantly plump, with a warm smile and shining eyes. She cradled the coal in a small bowl, and smoke drifted up from it. Connor could even smell it, and felt her attention in her bright smile.

“The goddesses poured their blessings into the Ewer of Souls, and worked a great miracle. Life and light spilled forth, but the Underworld was no place for new life to be born. So they divided the contents between themselves, and carried their own ewers to fertile ground from which to birth the first Amazons. From each of those, five Amazons were born. Five Amazons of the six tribes and their patron goddesses.They came again into the world full grown, and each goddess became her tribes’ mentor.” Diana added, and when Connor looked at her, she had a knowing smile.

Ah. She did notice.

Connor frowned, thinking before he spoke.

“You said the six goddesses created the Amazons.” He said, waving at the standing goddesses, before he turned back to the enthroned Hera at their head. “What about Hera?

Diana smiled mischievously and put a hand around his shoulders as she guided him toward the next hall.

“Hera sees all, and she had foreseen what the Amazons would need most of all…”

As they departed, Connor felt innumerable eyes on him, but he studiously looked forward and didn’t turn around.