Chapter 2
30th March 2006 - about two months before PJO canon
It had taken Dionysus about two weeks to understand the mechanics behind the control of his powers - and, more importantly, the ways in which they could be developed. A god was a personification, through the collective imagination of peoples past and present, of concepts and forces of nature, crystallised into an agent endowed with personality, autonomy and a will of its own. And the trade-off he had already mentioned between the embodiment of his domains and agentivity came back into play. The more a god acted personally - either in terms of his intention, or in opposition to his domains (e.g. "teleporting" for a god of wine), the less he could use the elemental power of his domains. On the contrary, the more he merged with them, the more powerful he was - but the less autonomous he was. So a god who was completely detached from his domain was hardly more powerful than a mortal - and a god who was completely confused with his domain would melt into it. Poseidon would just be "the sea" - with its power, its storms... but simply following the laws of physics and weather. This is why Hera would rage when Zeus cheated on her, or why Poseidon had mood swings: the gods used to settle into a balance between the two, a personality capable of volition but strongly connected to their domains.
So how did gods fade? How did they influence increase? Their powers? The key lay in the connection the collective consciousness made between the god's identity and his domain - which explained the survival and power of the Greek gods (even today, everyone associates "Zeus" with "lightning"; far fewer remember that Helios was once the sun god). The more the collective consciousness had a definite idea of the God, remembered his name, the more he could remember his identity as he merged with his domains - and therefore the more he could control and use the vast powers entrusted to him by his divine domains as he saw fit. Ergo the power of the Christian God or Indian divinities.
After all, not everyone was "equal" in their role of stabilising the connection between the god and her domain. Obviously, a person who quickly learned of Ares' association with war was far less valuable to the goddess than a fanatical worshipper. Likewise, a mortal's beliefs had far less influence than a demigod's admiration for a god - which explains, among other things, why the gods had created the camp. In fact, a god's "power" depended on three factors: the number of individuals who associated the god with his domains, the quality and fatalism of those beliefs, and finally the nature of the individual: mortal or immortal, demigod of one of the big three or grandson of a minor god.
Dionysus' plan was therefore simple.
First, he had to restore his public image. Not as a deity, of course: he wasn't crazy, and if he did, Michael would surely come and yeet him into the sky. Not as a human either: he'd be turned into a kebab too, but this time by the other Olympian gods. The gods "needed to stay hidden", now. Or some shit. No, he would develop primarily as a symbol, as a brand. He would make the name Dionysus and his head - which he would present as a rather funny logo - the allegory of his domains: he would put his name at the beginning of every film, create vintages of Dionysian wines and beers, and eventually - once he had a little more freedom, if his plan with the thief of lightning worked out - open nightclubs and theatres. Above all, he wanted to develop the association between himself and some of his less commonly associated - but far more conceptual and potentially powerful - domains: creativity, freedom, agency, stories, nature and mystery.
To do this he had two tools at his disposal: those conferred by his status as a god, and those conferred by his memories as a mortal who had lived in 2023. He knew for example that the ecological fight against pollution would need an emblem. And he was one of the fucking gods of Nature.
Although he hadn't invested much in the stock market, unlike Athena's intelligent or Hermes' intuitive investments, he was still immensely wealthy. Above all, many of his children and grandchildren, half-blood success stories, had left rich legacies - in control of the companies they had founded - that had come back to Dionysus. Thanks to his son Walt Disney, he was in control of the entertainment empire. His grandson, John Pemberton, had also given him some shares in his small company, Coca-Cola, when he founded it in 1831. He also controlled much of the wine and spirits market through stakes in LVMH. Finally, while many of his children, geniuses of theatre and tragedy like Shakespeare or Molière, or his descendants, partygoers and rockers like Jimmy Hendrix, or backpackers like Jack Kerouac or Edouard Limonov, left him nothing but enormous pride, others left him monumental copyrights, magnificent licences and entertainment empires - like Comcast. It wasn't so much the wealth that would come from it as the media power it would generate: creating characters with his name associated with the party or the art world, developing brands... all this would benefit him in the long run.
But he wanted to sell his shares in the Coca-Cola company to free up funds... and try something ambitious. If, as the god of tragedy and theatre, he had battled Apollo for almost a century to add cinema to his domain - a battle that was far from finished, the internet was still underdeveloped - and he had a head start on becoming the patron saint of content creators, the most creative and free-thinking thinkers who would shape new ideas beyond the constraints of Hollywood. Content creation ! New fictions ! New art ! New emulations between individuals that, without internet, would never have met ! Internet, a tool of freedom in totalitarian and oppressive regimes ! And to do that? All he had to do was start investing in fledgling companies with sweet, sweet names like Google, YouTube, Facebook...
But these were only his ideas for the mortal world. The most important ideas related to monsters, demigods and immortals.
30th March 2006.
The meeting room buzzed with a mixture of astonishment and perplexity as Dionysus continued to drop bombshells on the camp's unsuspecting residents. Campers and counselors alike were left with jaws dropped, trying to process the deluge of unexpected changes.
As the meeting concluded, a bewildered but unusually thrilled ten-year-old Annabeth emerged from the gathering. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of confusion and excitement, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through her young mind. She clutched a notepad and pencil, her small fingers ready to tackle the monumental task ahead. Dionysus had just announced a lot of things - the creation of a Boule, a council to assist the counselors with decision-making. Annabeth wasn't quite sure what to make of it - then there were the new games in addition to Capture the Flag, that would start in June.
However, the bombshell that left her utterly bewildered and simultaneously thrilled was the announcement of a total reconstruction of the camp into an ancient city. "Because, fuck, you are half gods and you sleep in basic wooden cabins like hoboes" - had justified the god. Annabeth's eyes widened as she envisioned the possibilities – the architecture, the layout, and the potential for a demigod haven unlike anything they had seen.
But then came the pièce de résistance – Dionysus charging her, a mere ten-year-old, with the task of designing the plans for the new theater - her older siblings had been charged, with Hephaestus' kids, to design the Bouleutarion, the Agora and the Stoa. Annabeth's heart raced with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration. She had always loved architecture and design, but this was an unprecedented responsibility. With her notepad in hand, Annabeth found a quiet spot to sit and sketch, her mind a whirlwind of blueprints, columns, and grand visions. And he would use his divine powers (and the fact that he could order nymphs, spirits and satyrs around) to help her build it ! Pray Dionysus !
30th March 2006.
After the mind-bending meeting, the Camp self-proclaimed guru, Dionysus, motioned for Charles Beckendorf to stick around. With an irreverent twinkle in his eye, Dionysus handed him a glass of whiskey, and Charles, the fourteen-year-old trying to play it cool, shot the god a look that said, "Really, dude? I mean - respectfully Mister God D your holiness ?"
"I'm, like, fourteen, you know? I mean, with respect and all, Sir god Yes Sir !" Charles deadpanned, as if negotiating with the universe's sketchiest bartender.
Dionysus, treating the concept of age like yesterday's leftovers, responded with an over-the-top flourish, "Age, my young demigod, is but a fleeting detail in the face of free will! If you fancy a sip on this bad boy, the choice is yours!"
Charles shrugged and took the drink. And, because why not, Dionysus cranked up a soundtrack. The god started breakdancing, and Charles, now sipping the whiskey, couldn't decide if he'd wandered into a divine carnival or a cosmic circus. The room pulsed with beats that could rival Zeus's thunder, and Charles found himself in the utterly ludicrous scenario of sipping whiskey while witnessing a god breakdance. The whiskey burned its way down, adding a layer of surrealism to the already absurd situation.
In the midst of dance moves that defied the laws of both nature and decency, Charles finally gathered the courage to address the elephant—or rather, the tipsy god—in the room. "Uh, Mister D, what did you want with me, Sir Mister God ?"
Dionysos, pirouetted mid-breakdance, his grapevine wreath doing a dance of its own. With a theatrical gesture toward the swirling chaos around them, he declared, "Charlie, my man, we're on the brink of a wild DIY project ! As I just said, we're giving an ancient Greek city a makeover, and I'm thinking, we need your magic touch. Hephaestus' son and all. But not just any touch—think funky defenses, my friend!"
Charles, visibly on edge and clutching his whiskey like a safety blanket, raised an uncertain eyebrow. "Funky defenses?"
Dionysos nodded, exuding an easygoing aura. "Absolutely! Picture this - big contraptions, steam-powered walls—imagine going steampunk, but with an antique Greece twist. Defenses so wild, even I would do a double take. What do you say, my man?"
Aware that he was conversing with a god yet excited by Mister D's proposition - it was his dream ! A whole city wall worth of defense ! And he could create gattling ! - Charles chuckled nervously. "Alright, Mister D, God, Sir-please-don't-transorm-me-in-a-dolphin ! I'll try to infuse a dash of eccentricity into the blueprint, I promise ! And…and…I'll put your symbols on the cannons… Let's turn this city into a steampunk paradise ! With guns ! America ! "
"America", screamed Dionysos - even if his favorite nation was France, the country of wine. But it would not do to let the youngster alone.
Too excited - and terrified at the same time, Charles took out his hidden gun and started firing in the air.
Like a cowboy.
26th April 2006
Athena watched as Dionysus entered the room. The goddess of strategy, Zeus' assistant in managing the day-to-day affairs of Olympus, sat at her father's right hand for this extraordinary summons of her half-brother.
Once a plump and drunken figure, Dionysus now entered the room, refined and beautiful, wearing a purple toga that revealed muscular biceps and a roguish smile, a mystery shrouding his newfound personality. Athena couldn't help but try to guess what had happened - perhaps he had begun to distance himself from the realm of alcohol by renewing his connection with theatre and tragedy? That would explain how he looked - but not how alive he felt: he should look less...alive as a metaphorically bound god of freedom. This was a mystery... and she would solve it.
"Dionysus, my son". Zeus' voice was majestic, magnificent - she had no other words to describe it. Her father had chosen to embody unusual realms today, drawing more on the concepts of Law and Royalty than those of Storms and Sky.
"Father," his half-brother bowed respectfully to his father and king: Zeus. "Elder sister," he greeted her with a nod.
Athena cleared her throat - a purely symbolic gesture, she couldn't catch a cold.
"Dionysus, Father has summoned you today to discuss the... recent changes at Camp Half-Blood. Although we had obviously identified your new activities with your modern businesses, these are private matters. But Camp Halfblood, the object of your new...vigour and energy and desire for change, is a matter of Olympian politics.'' Her father, always eager to get straight to the point when he embodied his domain of Royalty, cut her off.
"We are... pleasantly surprised by the many changes and your active policy in training the demigods. For a long time, they lived forgetting their Greek and ancient roots".
Athena nodded, herself approving of the changes deep down. After all, her children were directly benefiting from the rebuilding efforts - she had never seen Annabeth, one of her favourites, flourish like this.
"But We are not fooled. We can see that the building of a theatre, the introduction of these games - which you dare to call Dionysia! - that are about to begin, that these celebrations you have planned... are for your benefit - and not for the Olympians as a whole. Are you trying to usurp the legitimate authority of Olympus for your own benefit, my son? Our authority ?"
Dionysus seemed neither surprised nor, surprisingly, frightened by his father's words. He knew his father did not think so. Him, trying to usurp his authority? Ah!
"Father, far be it from me to entertain such an idea! Of course, I must admit that I had some ulterior motives in re-establishing the Dionysia and the theatre - which, let's not forget, remain essential elements of Greek culture. But, Father, removed from some of my fields, this cut sounded like a death sentence, I had no choice, I withered away".
Zeus grunted and motioned for him to continue, not taking offense at the thinly veiled accusation. Athena's mind flashed back to the image of Dionysus a few months earlier, fat and miserable, chained up to boot. Hera had been incredibly cruel, and though Zeus wouldn't admit it out loud, Athena knew he felt pity for his son. But to reverse his punishment? Impossible for the God of Laws and Kings, it would be too much against his domains.
"Still, it's safe to say that I'll definitely not be the only one to benefit. Athena can attest to this: the first beneficiaries are the demigods. The state of education, the disciplines studied and the activities carried out prevented the heroes from reaching their full potential. But now ? With the school I will open ? But above all, it's the Twelve Olympians who will benefit. For example, as for your domains in Athena, and you, Father, the Bouleutarion will soon be completed, and when it opens, the campers will learn about the deliberation and hard work of lawmaking, democracy and aristocracy - to the benefit of your domains. For too long, the myths perpetrated have centred on the exploits of war and love, not civilisation. But that's what the West is all about! With the new festivities, Apollo's domain will flourish mored than ever. With the new games, even Artemis' huntress will be able to honor their mistress! With the new school I want to open, they will renew with our philosophical tradition !".
"Above all, Father, we know the threat that lurks. Providing a comfortable place for the demigods to call home, while making them stronger to face the Titans..."
Zeus dismissed the argument out of hand. Did they, the gods, need heroes?
Dionysus was strangely eloquent, and to his surprise, Athena agreed with his plan. Though she wasn't fooled, she knew there was something more to the ideas of the man who, she now remembered, was the god of freedom. And the god of freedom proposing something that was clearly manipulative? Fortunately for her brother, the benefits to Athena and the rest of the Olympians were great. And that would slowly undermine her Father…perfect, truly, perfect.
"Father, I humbly think that Dionysus is right."
Both gods looked at her, raising an eyebrow at the mention of the word "humbly".
The king was satisfied with the way out: Dionysus would survive Zeus punishment - he knew the punition was too harsh, but he had to make Hera forgive him for Thalia - without him having to go back on his word, and Olympus would emerge stronger.
"In that case, proceed, my son. But beware, for We will watch"
Yeah, old man, you'll watch. But you'll still be surprised, thought the youngest god.