My mother looks down at me.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" she asks.

I nod at her, curl my lips in a mock smile. I am not so sure. We are sat in the port of flying craft, there are so many people here, all walking across each other, eyes glued to the floor, as if they do not wish to see where they are going. Yet none collide. I do not like crowds, they frighten me; the chaos, the noise, I find it all very unsettling. My mother runs her fingernails through my hair and smiles warmly, then pushes my head down so I can see no further than my feet.

"Do NOT raise your head," the tone of her voice is cold now," you are not to look up, do you understand me?"

"Yes, mother." I whisper, but the sound is lost.

There is music, I can hear feet shuffling, intakes of breath, I can feel my mother's hand shaking. It's them, I know it's them. If I were to look up, and I would not dare, but, if I were to look up, I would see everybody else with their eyes lowered to the stained carpet. Nobody will look at them. Nobody. So we wait. And after several minutes, the music stops, people begin to chatter again, a voice comes over the tannoy, all is normal again. They have gone.



Pray to us, child, drop to your knees
Lest we blight your crops with bugs and disease
Worship us, child, do humble yourself
Lest we leave you with nothing, save pitiful health
Live for us child, do all you are told
If you wish to survive to call yourself old
Have faith, do not test us, we smite those who doubt
Your peers will reject you and cast your souls out
Offer us bribes to allay all your fears
But keep your mouths shut when it all ends in tears
Do not question our actions, we do what we will
Bitter or not, you will swallow our pill
We have ruled for millennia, we have beaten all odds
We are jealous and vengeful, we are small headed gods