Prometheus was an ancient hero. He saw that humanity had no means of keeping warm or preparing food, and to remedy this, he stole fire from the Gods. This was in the time of Zeus and all the others, and to make things worse, it happened on a day when Zeus was feeling particularly testy and short-tempered, having just lost a significant amount of money investing in the stock market. He just wasn’t having it. As punishment for having stolen the secret of fire from the Gods, Zeus chained Prometheus to a cliff. He sent an eagle to go there once a day and devour Prometheus’ liver. Each day, after the eagle had eaten it, Prometheus’ liver would grow back, only to be eaten again by the eagle the following day. It was an endless cycle of liver eating.
Woah. Tough break, Prometheus. Not a good day for you, eh?
The first day was in all likelihood the toughest. Prometheus didn’t know exactly what to expect. He found himself chained to a cliff, uncertain as to how he had gotten there or what was going on, and with nothing to do but wait for something to happen. After he had struggled for a bit, tested the limits of his restraints, and ascertained that it wasn’t possible for him to escape, he was left with nothing else to do but hang around. And so he did. He waited until, about noon, a giant eagle arrived. He wasn’t sure quite what to make of this, so he decided to ask the eagle for help.
“Hey, Eagle, there seems to have been some mistake here – I’ve been chained to this cliff. Could you help me out?”
“Scree,” replied the eagle, and without further thought or hesitation, he proceeded to tear out and devour Prometheus’ liver. Prometheus screamed and writhed around in agony, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. Eventually, he passed out from the pain, and the eagle left.
The second day was a mixed affair. He awoke, and was initially elated to discover that in the night, his liver had healed itself completely. Had the whole thing been a hallucination caused by dehydration and boredom? He wasn’t sure. His uncertainty lasted until about noon, at which point the eagle returned. A blinding clarity illuminated in his mind, and the last traces of doubt were cleared away in a moment. The eagle had a fierce look in his eye. Prometheus tried to dodge and shift around in order to avoid the eagle, but he didn’t have much room to maneuver, and the eagle was ultimately successful in grasping his side with one of his talons, tearing a hole in his side, and pecking through his viscera until he got a good grip on Prometheus’ liver. The pain was incredible, but having endured much the same the previous day, Prometheus remained conscious, struggling the whole time to avoid the eagle. But despite his best efforts, the eagle was ultimately successful, and eventually he flew away, having once again been well nourished by Prometheus’ liver.
Time passed in much the same manner for a number of years. Each day the eagle would return, devour Prometheus’ liver, and go away again, leaving Prometheus bored, wounded, and unable to digest any significant amount of alcohol. Over time, the situation became a lot more clear in his mind, and he began to wonder about its origin. No one had ever told him why he was there, and the whole circumstance was a bizarre one. After some months had gone by, he resolved to ask the eagle: what was the meaning of all this? The eagle arrived, let out a menacing cry, as was his way, and proceeded in his task of assaulting Prometheus.
“Why are you doing this,” cried out Prometheus, “is it something I said?” The eagle was unsure exactly how to take this. What, he didn’t know?
“What, you didn’t know? Zeus put you up here. This is all because you stole fire from the Gods. Are you telling me that nobody ever explained this to you?”
“No,” replied Prometheus, “this is all news to me.”
“Oh,” said the Eagle, “well, there it is. It was Zeus. You shouldn’t have stolen fire from the Gods. See you tomorrow.”
“Alright,” said Prometheus, “see you tomorrow.”
The next day, Prometheus was overwhelmed by a feeling of dislike towards the eagle himself. The eagle arrived and set about his task of eating Prometheus’ liver. He was very professional about it. But Prometheus interjected –
“Fuck you, Eagle,” he said, “Why are you eating my liver? You have a choice in the matter, after all. I mean, you had to fly here, and that can’t have been convenient for you. What’s in it for you?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know it’s rough. But I really need this job. Times are tough, you know? I have my family to think about. Eating your liver pays pretty well, and I get a free meal out of it also. It’s too good a deal for me to pass up. I’m sorry about your liver and everything, but that’s how it is.”
“Tell me about it,” said Prometheus, “believe me, I get it. I had a consulting job until a few weeks ago but they let me go because I wasn’t located close enough to the valley. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“You said it,” the eagle replied, “well, see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, see you tomorrow,” said Prometheus. “Thanks for the explanation at least. Say hello to your wife and kids for me.”
“Will do,” said the eagle, and he flew off.
Things went on this way for months and years. The seasons changed, the sea below the cliff roiled and churned in the storms of winter, and the rain washed over Prometheus’ face as he looked out across the vast expanse of ocean towards the horizon. Prometheus neither aged nor died, even as the years turned into centuries. It all started to blend together for him. He and the eagle played a game of chess wherein each made a move on alternate days. It helped to pass the time. Prometheus always won, but it didn’t matter. Each day, the eagle would arrive and he would greet him.
“Hey, Eagle. How’s it going today?”
“Oh, not bad, yourself?” The eagle would reply.
“Can’t complain,” Prometheus would say.
“Well, sorry about the liver thing,” the eagle would say.
“No, no, it’s fine. It helps to pass the time.”
“Well, take care,” the eagle would say after he finished devouring Prometheus’ liver.
“Same to you,” Prometheus would answer, waving with one hand as best he could as the eagle departed, and the eagle would fly off to go buy some fruit or to check up on his investments.
Life is mostly like that. It’s one moment of acute suffering mixed with long periods of boredom and endless, largely unpunctuated time. There was one ancient philosopher who wrote that humankind could be happy even on the rack. Perhaps he had Prometheus in mind.
One day the eagle was at a holiday party with all the Gods, when Prometheus’ name came up in passing. Kokopelli was inquiring as to who amongst the Gods had displayed the most shocking and bizarre instant of divine cruelty. He mentioned Prometheus to Zeus. The eagle was not far away, discussing eagle stuff with Garuda, and he overheard the exchange. “Prometheus? Prometheus who?”, Zeus replied, but Kokopelli had already turned his attention to other subjects. It became clear to the eagle that he was the instrument of a divine punishment for a crime which had long since been forgotten by all the involved parties. In an instant, the eagle deduced that in fact, the affliction of humankind was not divine retribution or some such thing as that, but instead the divine was as fickle and as absent minded as all those other beings who populated the cosmos, and that really, the true curse was suffering itself, which was shared by all beings.
The next day, the eagle flew to where Prometheus was chained up to the cliff. He greeted Prometheus in the customary way, and then went about the task of pecking the stones around his chains until the fixtures pulled away from the rock, and Prometheus fell away briefly into the abyss below, only to be caught once again by the eagle after a short drop.
“Eagle, what are you doing?” asked Prometheus. “Think of your career.”
“I’ve decided to change jobs,” said the eagle. “How do you feel about antiquing?”
“It’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” said Prometheus, and the eagle had to agree that this was true.
The two decided to make a change. They sold all their stocks and liquidated their 401K’s and other such investments and bought a small storefront in a tourist town in the southwest, where they sold chachkies, cedar furniture, turquoise jewelry, sage smudges, and whirligigs to passing tourists. The weather was pleasant and the cost of living there was low. They lived out the rest of their years in a relaxed and unassuming way among their friends and acquaintances.