Man weeps.
The beast of the fields ate of his flesh, and no where could he
hide. By day the pterodactyls swooped from the skies to take
their toll. By night the wolves, in vicious packs, invaded even
man's caves and carried off their prey.
Man weeps.
The sound was low, smothered by the wind.
But one heard.
Prometheus.
He took a brand from the fires of Olympus, laid it at the mouth
of the cave where man shivered in cold and fear. And the wolves
grew wary, approached not. And man maintained as sacred the fire
given to them by Prometheus. Priests and priestesses watched
without cessation that the fire should be fed. Let the flames
but flicker, and they stirred the ashes. Should the burning
brands be too few they replenished them. And should the flames
die they brought forth the bellows, blew life giving air on the
coals below, and the fire burned bright. They never failed in
their chores.
Except,
Once.
Then, the fire died!
"Lad, you must never tell a soul of this task. As Zeus, master
of the universe, I make no mistakes. But, at an earlier time, I
took an action that I have since regretted. Prometheus, the
giver of fire, as you earthlings know him. I punished him
severely. Even to this day he suffers."
Zeus seemed to be downcast. "Anyway, the fire he gave to man
has burned out, flickered out, been blown out - whatever. Yet,
after careful thought, I have decided that man should have fire.
Prometheus must be freed to once again pass a lighted brand to
mankind. I can't free him, as that would cast doubt on my
infallibility. So, you do it. Off with you, now!"
There is a mountain, far removed from human haunts. There, time
after time, a tragedy repeats itself. Prometheus, the giant
benefactor to mankind, waits. Chains bind him to the mountain.
He waits and watches, watches the sky.
High in the sky, barely visible, a black dot can be seen.
Suddenly it falls, faster and faster, and as suddenly slows,
wings widespread. An eagle. A giant bird, with fierce talons,
merciless curved beak, strikes at the helpless captor.
Its talons rip, its beak slashes, and Prometheus gasps in pain.
The eagle tears at skin and muscle, at bone, and finally tears
from living flesh an organ. It flies away, the liver of its
victim in its beak.
Day ends, night passes, an lo the body of Prometheus has
healed. And now he waits again the coming of the eagle.
Demo began his hike to the Edge of the World, that region where
juts the great mountain upward to the sky.
He carried with him dried venison. No bread had he. Mankind's
fires were no more. Raw fruit and vegetables. Sun dried meat and
fish.
At home his Mother sat before the stove, her frustration plain
on her red face. Without fire she could not cook. Without fire
the night became ever dark, and days were too short.
Prometheus must be freed!
"These boltcutters will handle any chains you'll run into,
young man. Well tempered metal, endorsed by Vulcan when he
started this franchise. His personal guarantee on every one
sold. Money back, no questions asked, if you aren't satisfied.
Now, what more could you ask?" The salesman was solicitous and
persistent.
Finally Demo nodded, paid the asking price, and added the
boltcutter to his pouch of goodies.
He had chanced on the Vulcan Franchised Technology hardware
store while passing through the village. Fortunately it carried
the type of equipment he required.
"And keep in mind, with the extinguished fires, there'll be no
more of these produced. It'll become a collector's item, worth
much more than the original cost. You are getting a bargain!"
The sight of the giant, some scars still open and bleeding,
brought tears to Demo's eyes. Quickly he climbed upward, reached
the cliff to which Prometheus was pinned.
Demo looked at the chains, at his boltcutter.
It was too small!
He examined the pitons that maintained the chains in place.
Hammered deep in the rock, they seemed mounted to last forever.
Demo shook his head. What could be done?
At that moment he heard a strange sound, growing ever louder.
Looking upward he saw an object. It fell from the sky, swifter
and swifter still.
And then, wings spread, in eagle form it lashed at its assigned
prey!
The mountains trembled at the thunderous scream of the tortured
giant. He quivered, threw himself against the bonds that held
him!
Agony on his face, he screamed once more!
Demo put hands over ears to escape the misery and pain that
voice held. It did not suffice!
He looked, grief-stricken, at the bleeding, gaping wound. He
gazed in wonder at the pain-filled face, the reddened eyes!
Prometheus eyes closed. Sweat poured from his brow. Slowly he
slipped down, unconscious from the pain. Only the chains
supported him.
"Zeus, that you could impose such horror! I cannot understand!
But he shall be freed! I must act quickly!" Demo talked to
himself as he worked.
Though his boltcutter was useless Demo was not ready to give
up. He took hammer and metal chisels from his pack, began to
work on the most worn of the links of chain.
Even as he worked he noted the change in Prometheus. The wound
healed! By nightfall no sign remained, except the fearful scars,
to show that the vicious attack had ever occurred!
Tomorrow, the eagle would return!
The boy worked throughout the night on the link. In early
morning it gave, opened!
Prometheus pulled against the links, and one arm was free. With
both hands he wrestled with the remaining chain on his left arm.
In moments the piton was freed from the mountain wall! Quickly
he wrestled with the leg irons, wrenched them from their place
against the cliff.
Prometheus, his bonds broken, glanced wildly around. His eyes
reflected fear, madness. He watched the skies, searching for
something fearful and inescapable.
But no eagle flew.
Demo motioned downward, toward the path leading to the valley
below. Quickly he led the way! "Follow me! Follow me! Quickly!"
Prometheus, walking awkwardly, using skills long lost to
captivity.
They reached the valley, began the long journey to the sea.
Suddenly they felt a shadow encompass them. Demo frowned.
Prometheus had thrown himself on the ground, curled up like a
child. He was sobbing.
Glancing toward the sky Demo realized why!
Now the eagle flew!
Closer and closer, its wings spread wide, it zoomed downward.
Its prey lay still, paralyzed by fear, waiting its strike.
Demo notched his arrow, loosed it against the huge bird.
The arrow struck home!
With an angry squawk the bird turned from its prey to its
attacker. Demo fell as it swooped near, rolled over!
Too late!
It had his leg, was pulling him aloft!
Prometheus, an expression of fear on his face, yet reached out,
seized the wing of his enemy. He pulled the eagle to the ground.
Demo was released, quickly rolled over. He watched, wide-eyed,
as Prometheus unleashed his pent-up anger on his tormentor.
They fought long and hard, and feathers and blood mingled on
the valley's floor! At long last the eagle stood atop the giant,
its talons at his stomach!
Yet, even as it tore at the flesh of the giant, Prometheus
seized its throat in powerful hands, cut off the breath of life.
In moments the eagle lay dead!
Demo looked at the face of the conqueror. He shuddered!
The eyes of Prometheus still held unreasoning fear. No
semblance of reason was displayed in those haunted eyes! The
long, ever-enduring torment had not destroyed his body.
It had destroyed his mind!
The hope that man might once more have fire was dashed!
Prometheus, for all his size and strength, was helpless.
"Come, there is nothing left to do here. I'll help you. To
yonder stream."
Demo led him from the site, down to a green meadow where flowed
a quiet brook. There he washed the giant's wounds, gave him wine
to drink, watched him as he slept.
Like a child Prometheus followed Demo. At first ever watchful,
his frightened eyes on the sky. With time he relaxed, only
sporadically tensed, glanced anxiously upward.
He did not speak.
He did chores as directed. He searched for berries, edible
plants, honey. He fetched water from a nearby spring.
Within the immediate area he worked diligently. He would not go
beyond sight of Demo. When he reached a distance that seemed to
great he would halt, bow his head, and return.
Broken, frightened, the hero was dead! Only the shell lived.
The wild beast became ever braver. Fire, that strange creature
that turned night into day, no longer existed. Mankind huddled
by night in their abodes, listening, frightened, at the night
sounds.
The wolves became bolder. They hunted in larger and larger
packs, killed sheep at will. Soon village dogs became their
prey. And children who wandered alone into the night. Even men,
traveling alone, were subject to the deadly raid of the wolf
pack.
Prometheus and Demo came under attack. They slept in the open,
under the stars. Demo woke to hear the call of the wolves as
they assembled for the hunt. He grimaced, felt for his bow and
arrows.
Prometheus slept. Childlike, he trusted to Demo for his
protection.
The howls soon ceased. That silence, more than the wild calls,
frightened Demo. He notched an arrow to his bow, sat with back
against a huge oak. He watched the edges of the clearing,
looking for sign of motion.
He wasn't to be disappointed.
They came in the false dawn, quietly creeping to the edge of
the open space. Demo saw in the dim light their movement. He let
fly an arrow, prepared another. The yelp of the injured wolf
signaled the attack.
One more arrow flew and a wolf fell. The pack was upon him! He
had not time to draw his bow again.
With an angry roar Prometheus awoke. His huge form towering
high, he seized a fallen tree trunk, raised it above his head.
He met the oncoming horde with battering blows, growls more
fierce than that of beast. Quickly, leaving fallen comrades
behind, the wolves scattered.
Prometheus sat down, shivered as though cold.
"Why is there no fire? They would fear the fire."
Demo stared!
Under the fierce attack Prometheus had regained his will to
live, to fight!
"The fire you gave man is extinguished. He failed to keep its
flame burning, failed to protect it. He took it for granted, and
none would be its keeper.
"There is no fire!"
Prometheus lay down the great log, breathed deeply.
"I took from Vulcan's furnace, from the hottest flames, the
heart of fire. I gave it to man for his care and nurture, to
protect him from the creatures of the wild. I gave it to him to
protect him from the night, and those things that creep in the
darkness. And now he has let it die? What fools are these
mortals, to disdain a such a gift?"
"Man grows lazy and irresponsible. He thinks all things come
to him with no effort on his part. He values little those gifts
that he receives. At last he knows, now, what he has lost."
"In my own hand I carried the fiery coals. Look!"
He thrust out the palms of both hands, and Demo stared in the
dawning light of morning at the charred and blackened skin.
"Vulcan will not so easily be fooled again! Yet," Prometheus
mused, looking at Demo, "Perhaps it can be done."
Demo frowned. No more was Prometheus leaning on him to take the
lead.
"You have access to Olympus. Zeus has given you the key, for
you seem to be a favorite of his. And once on Olympus, you have
access to Vulcan. You could prepare the way for me, distract
Vulcan, and I could once more draw fire from that deadly
furnace. Let us plan together."
They sat, discussed, argued, compromised.
It was decided. Demo would return to Olympus, persuade Zeus to
call an audience with Vulcan. And in Vulcan's absence, once more
would Prometheus carry fire to mankind.
The best laid schemes of man and firegiver go oft astray.
Zeus would have none of it! "I want no involvement on my part.
Otherwise, do what you will."
They sat, discussed, argued, compromised.
Demo was amazed! That Zeus would condone such activity on
Demo's part seemed unbelievable. Perhaps, as Prometheus implied,
he was a favorite!
Regardless, Vulcan would be called to an audience. He would be
detained long enough for Prometheus to wend his way to that
great furnace wherein lie the eternal fires. And once more would
Prometheus give to man the gift of fire.
Vulcan looked morosely at the raging fires in his furnace.
Flames huge and red leaped, frolicked, and disappeared to be
followed by others of blue and white. They cast gigantic
shadows, grotesque and ever changing.
Usually he admired the display, relaxed as might others to the
sound of music.
Tonight he did not relax.
Zeus desired his company.
Rarely did Zeus call upon him. Even more rarely was he invited
into the presence of that most august God. It did not please
him. Here, at his furnace shaping objects from hardest metal, he
felt at home. Let others court the company and favors of Zeus.
Nevertheless, he would go. Perhaps there was a chore to be
done, a mighty sword to fashion, a shield to form from molten
metal. Or, more likely, some damaged tool to repair, welding
broken parts to make a whole.
He stoked the fire, breathing the hot flames as though perfume.
Wiping sweat from his moist brow he hurried to ready himself for
his audience with Zeus.
Prometheus waited.
With Vulcan's departure he slipped into the celestial foundry,
inched ever closer to the heart of that huge factory. The
furnace glowed from the fire within.
Prometheus entrance was noted.
He knew not of the guard.
Vulcan had led a life of abuse, mistrust, and rejection. He
himself trusted no one. Though crippled he remained agile and
able, and used his skill with fire and metal to fabricate an
object of strange shape and size.
The object was formed of the strongest metals. Its joints were
cunningly hinged to allow motion. Its appearance was that of man
- rather, that of giant. For it was huge. Huge and massive.
Silently it stood guard in the empty foundry. A dead, useless
metal statue, a scarecrow for the vagrant birds that might pass
by.
It had one more characteristic.
It lived!
Vulcan had withdrawn from the huge furnace a heart of fire,
ensconced it in the body of his creation. That burning, beating
heart gave it an existence of its own.
Prometheus' entrance was noted.
Noted by Vulcan's metal monster!
Prometheus stalked quickly to the fiery confines of Vulcan's
furnace. Opening the door to its sizzling interior, he flinched
back from the blast of flames and heat.
Quickly he picked up the long shovel, thrust it into the midst
of the flames. Slowly he withdrew it, the very heart of
scorching mass centered in the scoop.
Vulcan's creation struck!
The metal monster, moving silently, steadily, had positioned
itself behind Prometheus. Even as he captured the heart of the
furnace its arms enfolded him.
Prometheus dropped the shovel!
The white-hot mass of fire rolled onto the floor, began to melt
the stones that supported it.
Prometheus threw himself backward, tipping over his attacker!
They rolled on the floor. The creature dug its iron talons into
Prometheus stomach.
Prometheus screamed!
The memory of the eagle engulfed him!
Once again he was chained to the crag, the eagle coming ever
closer.
Now it struck!
Its talons, tearing, ripping . . . !
He seized the metal arm, bending and ripping at the fingers!
One by one they gave way to his strength.
Even as the last finger gave way, the other arm now enwrapped
his throat! His breathing grew ever more difficult. And Vulcan's
monster wrestled him closer and closer to the deadly ball of
scorching fire.
He felt the heat on his skin, burning and charring! Now his
chest was barely inches from the fire! It touched his skin!
Abruptly he reached out, seized the burning mass in his huge
hands!
He lifted the deadly cargo above his head!
Burning through skin and flesh, charring bone, it lit the
hellish scene!
With an effort he loosed the deadly mass behind his back!
If fell on the head of Vulcan's creation.
The struggle was over!
A molten mass, the metal monster lay inanimate upon the floor!
With crippled hands Prometheus once more shoveled the burning
heart of the furnace. Without a backward glance he rushed from
the site of battle.
Arriving on earth he deposited his burden in the bowels of Mt.
Vesuvius. There would it ever burn. And from that burning mass
man once more distributed fire to hearth and kiln.
"My boy, you handled that quite well. Certainly left Vulcan's
foundry in a mess, though. By the way, I sent Aesculapius over
to care for Prometheus' hands. It will take time, but
Aesculapius works wonders. Gad, his rates are high! Do you know
how much he charges for house calls! Never mind, it's enough, I
assure you!" Zeus grumbled to even think of the cost.
"Stay healthy." He growled morosely.