Chapter 18
Aida and Yumi spent the rest of the day poring over Wikipedia, JSTOR, Academia.edu, and ancient Greek and Roman mythology
journals, looking for every bit of information they could about Euphrosyne and MODA. They scoured countless images of the
Three Graces, wondering if there was a hint of truth in them—could the goddesses have actually modeled for Botticelli? Or
inspired him?
They only found one brief mention of Euphrosyne and Sophrosyne being sisters, and it was merely a passing note that they were
both borne of the primordial gods Erebus—darkness—and Nyx—night. It turned out that Nyx was a rather prolific goddess, with
over forty children, most minor gods, including doom, madness, prudence, and even the Fates and the Furies. And only one story
mentioned that Sophrosyne was one of the good spirits let loose by Pandora when she opened the jar, which also let evil into
the world.
Regarding MODA, there was also scant information about the various gods who seemed to make up the organization, save for a few mentions.
Momus, who was Oizys’s twin, was so annoying that Zeus had ejected him from Mount Olympus.
In fact, the only being who Momus seemed to have little criticism of was Aphrodite, whose only fault, according to him, was that her sandals squeaked.
Over the years, mankind had begun painting Momus as less of an ass and more of a lighthearted comedian, a harlequin.
The French even began depicting him on their cards as the Fool, which gave Aida a chuckle.
She wondered what Mo thought of such a portrayal.
“I’m starting to get a headache from staring at this screen,” Yumi said. “And we’ve not found anything useful.”
“We did discover that all the gods we know of at MODA were born of Nyx, which validates what Sophie said—that they are her
siblings.”
Yumi shrugged. “But how does that help us? We’re still no closer to figuring out how to crack into that database. Maybe you
should try to reach Sophie.” She motioned toward Aida’s personal cell phone on the table in front of them.
“She didn’t give me her number.”
Yumi’s eyes widened. “Well, how are you supposed to contact her?”
Aida reached for Yumi’s hands. “We pray.”
Yumi started laughing, but she didn’t let go. “Seriously? Okay, okay.”
Aida squeezed her friend’s hands, then closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Dear Sophrosyne . . .”
Yumi snorted. “You aren’t writing a letter!”
“But prayers start with ‘Dear God’!”
Yumi frowned, then rolled her eyes. “Forget I said anything, go forth and pray!”
“Stop the giggling, and I will!”
After a few starts and stops punctuated by bouts of uncontrollable laughter, they calmed enough for Aida to attempt an awkward
prayer.
“Dear Sophrosyne, oh, goddess of balance and temperance, we ask that you come to us, so we may speak to you about the database.”
Aida began to withdraw her hands, but Yumi stopped her. “Do we say amen?”
Aida shook her head. “That’s Hebrew.”
Yumi let go of her hands. “Now what?”
“I guess we wait.”
Yumi flipped on the TV. “Grande Fratello is on. I’m obsessed.”
“Big Brother? How can you watch that? You barely understand Italian!”
“Eh, the drama is all the same.”
After an hour of watching the Italian Big Brother House guests do a whole lot of nothing, Aida began to believe Sophie wasn’t
going to respond, which she found equal parts disconcerting and annoying. Finally, she reached for the controller and flipped
off the TV. “Let’s get out of here. I need an aperitivo.”
Ten minutes later, they were on the rooftop deck of a ritzy bar overlooking Piazza Navona, ordering big glasses of Aperol
spritz. They had finished one drink and were about to order another when a blanket of calm enveloped Aida just as a woman
approached their table and sat in the extra chair.
She was easily one of the most stunning people Aida had ever seen. Cloaked entirely in ivory, she had an ethereal aura. A
delicate silk jacket hugged her lithe frame and a gossamer pleated scarf adorned her neck. Her platinum hair was styled in
an exquisite updo, with wispy tendrils framing her alabaster face. Her eyes, like pools of liquid mercury, shimmered beneath
gracefully arched brows, their allure heightened by her high cheekbones. Her nails gleamed with a lustrous pearl sheen. Everything
about her was exceptional, and she seemed perfectly at home joining Aida and Yumi at their table.
“Hello,” Yumi began to say, awe evident in her voice.
“Oh, aren’t you lovely,” the woman said, cutting her off with a smile. The gentle lilt of her speech carried a calming warmth.
Every movement she made was with grace and poise.
“Who are you?” Aida asked, afraid of the answer.
“Aglaea, but you can call me Aggie.”
Aida hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, and she released it in a sigh of relief. “You’re a Charis.”
“Yes, that’s right. Sophie asked me to meet you.”
Yumi almost choked on her spritz. “You’re the goddess of beauty and splendor! One of the Charites! The Three Graces! I read about you today!”
Several people at nearby tables began to stare in their direction, and a few chuckled at Yumi’s outburst.
Aggie waved a hand, and immediately they turned away. “Now, now, not so loud. We can’t have everyone staring at us.”
“How can they not? You’re so . . .”
Aggie nodded. “Beautiful, yes, I know. But they see me differently than you are seeing me. To them, I appear as a rather mousy,
boring-looking girl who barely managed to comb her hair today. It’s easier that way.”
“I can’t believe I’m talking to a goddess,” Yumi said, her voice much lower. “Until now, I didn’t believe . . .”
Aida smacked her friend on the arm. “You didn’t believe me?!”
“I did, mostly, but I was skeptical about the god part.”
Aggie laughed. “Well, I’m here, and I assure you, we are quite real.”
Yumi was still gaping. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you gods just appear to the masses? Who could help but worship you?”
Aggie gave her a kind smile. “It’s never been like that. Our interactions are meant to influence human affairs indirectly,
guiding or testing mortals rather than overtly altering destiny on a grand scale. Can you imagine? Sophie would go mad with
the idea of so much imbalance.”
They were interrupted by the scrape of a chair against the tiled floor and an angry shout. A woman threw her drink in her
companion’s face, then turned to rush off the rooftop, tears streaming.
“Ohh, the poor dear,” Aggie said, watching the woman leave.
She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating.
Then she turned her attention back to Aida and Yumi.
“The tables next to the wet man are tittering about the scene. It seems the woman learned her fiancé has been cheating on her with two other women and confronted him. I fear you’ll start to see more and more of that sort of thing as happiness dissipates.
That’s why I’m here. There is a shift in that precarious balance.
We must find Effie. She is somewhere surrounded by sorrow, and her light has dimmed. ”
“Why did Sophie send you?” Aida asked.
Aggie grinned. “Because you were asking about technology.”
Yumi knitted her brow. “You know about technology?”
Aggie patted Yumi’s hand. “No, of course not. I can’t be bothered with that. But I happen to be married to someone who does.”
While Aida had been reading of the Charites earlier, she hadn’t dug deep into the history of Euphrosyne’s companions. “Forgive
my ignorance, but who would that be?”
“Hephaestus, also known as Vulcan.”
Of course, Aida thought to herself. The god of the forge, the maker of all the enchanted objects of the myths: Jupiter’s thunderbolts,
Mars’s spear and shield, Achilles’s armor, Apollo’s bow and arrows, and Mercury’s winged sandals, to name a few.
“This might be a silly question, but which names do you gods prefer? The Greek or Roman? I can never keep them straight,”
Yumi asked.
“Whichever you prefer,” Aggie said. “We have many names and realities for humans. Apollo and the Hindu god Surya are the same.
The Egyptian god Amun is the same as Jupiter, who is the same as Zeus and the same as Odin. Mithras is the same as Jesus.
Ishtar is Athena, and Isis, and Mary. I could go on and on. We use many of the names interchangeably ourselves. Fear not,
Yumi, you will not offend by using the wrong name.”
“You think Vulcan can help us break into this database?” Aida asked, choosing the easier Roman name for the god.
“I know not, but if there is anyone who knows what the gods can do with machinery, it’s him. I paid your bill already. If
you are ready, we can go there now.”
Aida looked at Yumi, who nodded vigorously. “Yes, let’s do it.”
“Wait,” Aida said, stopping the two from standing. “My phone tracks me. We think we are able to muddle what it hears, but I can’t stop it from knowing where I’m at.”
Aggie raised an eyebrow. “Then you’ll have to turn it off.”
Aida took a deep breath. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
Aggie seemed to understand her discomfort. “Just for a little while. We can ask Heph about it.”
Reluctantly, Aida found the MODA phone in her bag and turned it off. “All right, let’s go.”
She followed the goddess and Yumi out of the bar to the elevator. When the doors slid shut, Yumi asked, “Where is he? How
will we get there?”
“Like this,” Aggie said, taking Yumi’s and Aida’s hands.
There was the briefest flash of light, and then they were standing in the middle of the Roman Forum next to a fence in front
of a sad-looking round brick structure that Aida recognized as the Umbilicus Urbis Romae, the Navel of the City of Rome, or
the center of the city from which and to which all the distances of the Roman Empire were measured. Legend had it that the
structure was built atop a gate to the Underworld. Aida had spent a lot of time in the Forum since she had come to Rome and
knew the structures fairly well, and she was surprised to see the dark opening of a door on one side of the Umbilicus. She