“You also rule a world, Morpheus. A world of sleepers and dreamers, of stories. A simple place compared to hell. I envy you. Can you imagine what it was like? Ten billion years providing a place for dead mortals to torture themselves? And like all masochists, they called the shots. ‘Burn me.’ 'Freeze me.’ 'Eat me.’ 'Hurt me.’ And we did. Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spent my entire day sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The Devil made me do it.’ I have never made any one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them” – RecklessPrudence
(#00447 - A072)
“Have you seen some of the nightmares they come up with?” said Morpheus. “Hells, even the dreams get frightening if you linger to examine them. I had one kid dream that her entire world was rotting away into grey haze[1]. Every dream is their own subconscious trying to tell them something, but they blame me for it all.”
“And it’s not like you can quit, right? They still use your name, so you have to answer the call.”
Morpheus poured himself another generous mug of coffee[2]. “All the work, all the blame, and no pay. You know what we are, Hades?”
“No. What?”
“We’re service industry workers. We provide the service and get none of the thanks.”
“Why’d we even take these shitty jobs?”
“Simple, they called us.”
[1] One of mine.
[2] I love the irony of it, okay?
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