King Sisyphus would finally move that damned boulder all the way up the hill today. The weather was clear. The hill was dry. He’d breakfasted on unleavened bread, lamb and figs. He hadn’t become king by giving up.
Halfway up, he stopped to catch his breath. Far below in the valley, shepherds watched their flocks. Their eternity was benign compared to his, but he felt no disdain for their lot. In fact, he enjoyed discussing philosophy with the simple peasants over a bottle of wine after a hard day of boulder-moving.
The boulder shifted. He braced himself and resisted, but the rock slipped towards him. He leapt aside and watched the rock tumble down the hill again. For the millionth time.
“For the love of Zeus!” he shouted. The curse was reckless. Zeus might appear on one of his periodic visits to ensure that he was following the rules of his punishment.
He heard a voice mock, “Love of Zeus.” All he saw was an olive tree. Sisyphus stomped over to the tree and peered around it.
A short man in golden robes with a silver crown leaned against the tree. He glared at Sisyphus. “Why in Hades do you persist in rolling my boulder up the hill?”
Sisyphus stared at the man. Could the stranger’s crown be larger than the one Sisyphus wore? “Your boulder?”
“Zeus commanded me to return that boulder to the valley and you persist in pushing it up the hill.”
“Zeus ordered you to send the boulder to the valley?”
The stranger nodded. “For my hubris. I was King Midas, ruler of Phrygia. Zeus forbade me to reveal myself to you, but I could not endure your stubbornness any longer.”
“Pushing a boulder down a hill is not nearly as difficult as pushing it up,” Sisyphus said.
“Do you jest, sir? Every trip down the boulder careens off into dozens of crevices and gullies. And, Zeus insists I return it to the exact same spot in the valley. Your task is the simple one.”
“I have never heard of you or Phrygia,” Sisyphus snorted.
Midas shrugged. “And who are you?”
“King Sisyphus, ruler of Ephyra. I am being punished for my hubris.”
Midas snickered. “Ephyra must be puny indeed since word of it never reached my realm.”
Sisyphus glared. “Well, you are hardly renowned.”
“You’ve never heard of the Midas touch?”
“Is that some special way you push the boulder?”
Midas shook his head. “The gods granted my wish and everything I touched turned to gold, even my own child.”
“A kingdom without riches must need such a power,” Sisyphus said.
“That’s not the point,” Midas snapped. “I gave up my greedy ways and I became simple King Midas again. But then Zeus accused me of hubris, because I enjoyed telling my story of how I had abandoned the sin of avarice. The gods certainly like to teach lessons.”
“They do.” Sisyphus agreed, putting on the charm he reserved for high occasions of state. “So, why don’t we end our pointless chores? I can just push the boulder up the hill and we can leave it there.” He turned to walk down the slope and retrieve the boulder.
Midas coughed. “Why don’t we just let the boulder remain in the meadow below as a monument to how we have served the gods?”
Sisyphus crossed his arms. “So, you wish to tell Zeus that you have bested me?”
“I didn’t say that. But you have to admit that the boulder will roll down the mountain eventually. It can’t roll up the mountain.”
Then Sisyphus had an idea.
¤
With a golden flash Zeus appeared at the top of the mountain.
Sisyphus dropped the empty bottle of wine and uttered the words he and Midas had agreed upon. “Sire, King Midas and I have resolved our differences and completed our tasks, as you planned. Your eternal lesson that we learn humility and compromise by working together was an ingenious plan. You are great indeed.”
Midas patted the side of the boulder half that rested on the mountain top. “We cleaved the boulder in two, sire, as you intended. You are the wisest of the gods.”
Zeus stared at the half-boulder and then turned his gaze to the valley below. “How did you break the boulder in two?”
Sisyphus bowed. “With the help of Atlas, as you intended.”
Zeus put his hand over his eyes and massaged his temples. “This behavior smacks of hubris. What am I going to do with you two?”
Sisyphus had a hunch that Zeus might not be so easily swayed by flattery. He tried a different tack. “Sire, whatever your plan, will you keep a close eye on us to ensure that we follow your wishes?”
Zeus rolled his eyes. “What is your point, Sisyphus? You are more tiresome than Aristotle.”
“I only suggest that you are a generous god to devote so much time to supervising the likes of us. Those who are punished cannot be left unattended…”
Zeus sighed. “You’re probably right. You two are not very good at following my dictates.” Zeus had visited the kings to gloat every few months since the punishment began. Lately, his satisfaction had paled.
Sisyphus cleared his throat. “Sire, if you, in your wisdom, decide that we no longer suffer from hubris, you would not have to visit this place again.”
“Yes, perhaps you are not as proud as you once were.”
“If you say it, sire, it must be true.”
Zeus closed his eyes. “Kings. Why am I always troubled by the schemes of Kings?”
Sisyphus bowed. “Perhaps, sire—”
Zeus glared at him. “What is your point now?”
Midas nudged Sisyphus in the ribs. “Shh.”
“Nothing,” Sisyphus said.
Zeus smiled. “It will be joyous indeed on Mount Olympus to know I need never return here.” He waved his hands and vanished.
Sisyphus slapped Midas on the back. “Come, let’s cavort with the shepherds.”
Midas laughed. “A suggestion worthy of a king.”
The kings strode through the meadow toward the sound of laughter and the light music of a lyre. As he passed the second half of the boulder, something gnawed at Sisyphus. He wondered how difficult it would be to transport it to the mountain top. Perhaps Atlas would help.
__________________________
For the past two years Pete has been in the process of evolving into a fiction editor, God help him, first with The Pete Wood Challenge, then with Dawn of Time, then with The Odin Chronicles, and now with Tales from the Brahma, a shared world saga that features the creative work of Roxana Arama, Gustavo Bondoni, Carol Scheina, Patricia Miller, Jason Burnham, and of course, Pete Wood. We suspect that Pete’s real love is theater, though, as evidenced by his short movie, Quantum Doughnut — which you can stream, if you follow the foregoing link.
“A Day in the Life of Sisyphus” was first published in Page and Spine Fiction Showcase, July 2015.
Pete Wood photo by Lee Baker.
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