Year One Page #7

- Kind of mad at me, though.

- And there's Eema.

Come here, wench.

Let me have a look

what's up that skirt.

- I'm sorry, it was an accident.

- It was no accident.

Hey. You. Slave girl.

I told you to fetch me more wine.

- Apologize to this officer now.

- I'm sorry.

Good. Now go fetch.

Wait over there by the skinny statue.

I'll deal with you later. Go!

Slaves. What are you gonna do?

Wait a minute.

Don't I know you?

- What are you, crazy?

- I will not serve these people.

- I'd rather die.

- Keep it up. You will.

Have you joined them?

I haven't joined anything.

I'm not having fun.

I'm just checking it out.

A lot to learn here.

- What, human sacrifice?

- No. No human sacrifices.

I've been chosen

to do something great.

Yeah, here we go.

I'm pretty sure it's not hunting pigs

and weaving baskets.

- Oh?

- Hello, Maya.

She wants to see you. Now.

Don't think

I'm interested in her.

- Whyever would I think that?

- It's part of my plan.

I'm gonna get us out of here

soon as I can.

- The princess awaits you.

- And I await her.

You two, await me.

Stay out of trouble. Stay gold.

He has no idea what he's doing,

does he?

- It's nice to see you like this.

- It's nice to see you too.

We should do something.

When do you get off?

- Never. I'm a slave.

- Oh, yeah, of course.

Slave girl, bring me a towel.

Yeah, I should go be a slave.

I'm gonna strike a specific pose,

I guess.

- Okay.

- I love you.

You there. Golden boy.

Come here.

Rub me with oil.

I'd rather not, if you don't mind.

That's not...

I'm not one of the oil rubbers,

I'm just a guard.

Rub me with oil or die.

- Is that enough?

- Much more. Baste me like a chicken.

Oh, yes. Pour it all over me,

you little bronze bitchlet.

Yeah, okay. You got the whole thing

on you now.

Marvelous, I love it.

All right, well, have a good evening.

I'm glad I could help you out.

Now rub it in.

With my hand?

No. With your nutsack.

Of course, with your hand.

Oh, yes.

Oh, yes, the oily oiliness.

The musky, precious,

smoky, oily oiliness.

Yes, that's right.

Oh, God, paint a picture on my body.

- Tell a story on my nipples.

- Yeah.

That's right, take me down

the smoky Euphrates.

Do something

you'll be ashamed of later...

...you naughty little goat.

All right, charm the snake.

- Eema. Hey...

- Oh, just like that. Now slap me.

- This isn't what it looks like.

- My tummy. Go ahead, slap me.

- Slap me. Slap the tummy.

- No, it's fine. I mean, I understand.

Go on. I love it, I love it.

Oh, you're very gifted.

No, no, no. I'm just rubbing oil

on this man's chest. Eema.

A gift. I don't know,

you've got some sort of gift.

- Good luck.

- Look, Maya. Maya.

Come to me.

Beautiful, isn't it?

You can see Gomorrah

just over the hill.

Yep. Twin cities.

People think that the gods

are gonna wipe them out...

...because they're so evil.

- And what do you think? Am I evil?

Well, I don't really know you,

but you don't look evil.

Do you find me attractive?

Yeah.

Let me ask you one thing.

What would a girl like you

want with a guy like me?

I don't know.

I just find you interesting.

They say it's the will of the gods...

...that some men should suffer

while others rule.

That we're all just victims

of our own fate.

I believed that until this morning...

...when I saw you standing up alone

in the square and I said to myself:

"Yes! Finally, here's one man

who refuses to bow down to anything.

A man with the courage

to question the order of things.

A man chosen by the gods

to do something great."

That's exactly

what I've been thinking.

You would not believe the stuff

happening to me.

- I just didn't know why.

- I know why.

To bring you here. To this place.

To me.

I could not agree more.

I'm trying to agree more, but I can't,

because that's how much I agree.

Come.

This must be difficult

for you to understand...

...but my life is devoted

to the service of the gods...

...and the good of the people.

I keep nothing for myself.

- That's very unselfish of you.

- It is unselfish of me, isn't it?

You're so perceptive

for one so young.

- Yeah. What are those doors there?

- Behind these doors...

...is the Holy of Holies,

earthly domain of the gods.

A place so ineffably sacred,

so powerful...

...that to enter is instant death.

- Who cleans it?

- Needs no cleaning.

Kind of makes you think

about the people that built it.

Like, did they die instantly...

...or were they given

a courtesy second...

...to get out of there by the gods?

They were allowed to finish,

given four and a half seconds...

...then the gods descended.

- What if a bug goes in there?

- Instant death for the bug.

Are there dead bugs all over?

Because nobody cleans it.

They're vaporized immediately...

...by a holy beam

of vapory fire vapor.

- Can we go in?

- I just told you.

To enter is instant death,

you gorgeous little dunce.

Can't even poke our heads in?

You're so young and curious,

aren't you?

You want to know it all

and taste it all, explore it all, be it all...

...dance with it all, suck it all,

don't you?

I've got a riddle for you.

What has two thumbs...

...and is desperate

for another hot-oil rub?

- What?

- This person.

Come on. Let's go.

- Come. Come quick.

- That will not be a problem.

What are we doing here?

I want you to enter

the Holy of Holies.

Oh, that is quite a coincidence...

...because I want you to sit

on the Poley of Poleys.

- Oh, no. That's the Holy of Holies.

- I thought you were talking about...

You have to go in there

and speak to the gods.

- The gods are in there?

- So they say.

The only one who goes in there

is the high priest.

They say it's instant death

for anyone else to enter.

- Then why am I going in?

- Because you've been chosen.

If the gods wanted you dead,

they would've killed you already.

- Right.

- This is what you've been chosen for.

To speak to the gods,

divine their purpose...

...and plead with them

to end this terrible famine.

Then come back out

and tell me what it's like inside.

- Okay.

- Okay.

Right.

I'm pretty sure I'm chosen,

but I'm not "sure" sure.

You're chosen.

Okay. I'm gonna go in,

but you gotta do something for me.

- You gotta let my friends go.

- Anything.

Don't kill me, don't kill me,

don't kill me...

Get up. You look ridiculous.

- Oh? What are you doing here?

- I'm hiding from the high priest.

I spent the last two hours

rubbing oil on him.

Is that chest hair?

Not all of it. Just don't ask, okay?

I've lost my sense

of right and wrong.

How did you get in here

without getting fried?

- I don't know. How did you?

- Because I'm a chosen.

Probably why God didn't kill you:

He knew you were my follower.

- I'm not your follower.

- Why are you always following me?

I'm not following you. I walk

behind you at the same pace as you.

Not following.

I could be leading from the rear.

Come on. I'm the leader.

I always have been.

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