A Day in the Life of a Muse

"Code Red, Code Red, I repeat Code Red."

Milena groaned "Not again. That’s the second one today. Can’t anybody come up with their own ideas anymore?"

She stared at the others running to the crisis center and slowly got up from her desk. "If this is another TV show producer, I’ll barf. I am so sick of dealing with those whiny idiots. I was on a roll with my story. I’m the goddam Muse of Inspiration, and I can’t find time to write a single story." She stalked off to the crisis center, grumbling all the way.

Milena hadn’t always been like this. When she was a mortal, in the early 1700s, she had been the happily married Countess d’Winter, a paragon of wit, virtue, beauty, and goodness that was celebrated in song all across Italy. Then her husband went on a diplomatic mission to Rome and didn’t come back. She had been about to commit suicide when Erato, the muse of love poetry, showed up. She explained to Milena that she wanted to retire and if Milena agreed to switch places with her, she would forget everything and would remember it only after she returned to mortal life. Milena agreed, and was sent to Parnassus, while Erato replaced her as the recently widowed Countess d’Winter.

Of course, Milena hadn’t stayed the Muse of Love Poetry for long. As new art forms were discovered, she was moved from position to position. At one point during the Victorian era, she had been the Muse of Interior Decorating and Knick-knacks. Thankfully, that didn’t last long. In the 1960s, the powers that be decided that since the definition of art had expanded so much that each form of art could no longer have its own muse. They divided things up one last time.

Calliope Epic Poetry Writing

Clio History History

Euterpe Music Music

Melpomene Tragedy Social Sciences

Milena (Erato) Love Poetry Inspiration

Polyhymnia Sacred Poetry Religions

Terpsichore Dancing Physical Expression

Thalia Comedy Comedy

Urania Astronomy Physical Sciences

These Code Reds, Blues, and Yellows were also a fairly new development. A very annoying development. Next, they’ll start writing mission statements. This modernization isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

"Milena, you’re late. How many times do I have to explain things to you? Code Red means get here as fast as possible; it’s an emergency."

"Yes, sir," Milena said as she sank into the only remaining chair. Right at the front, as usual. Now she would have to pay attention to Apollo, instead of dozing off, or working some more on her story. She pulled out her MUS2000, turned it to the writing side and began taking word for word notes complete with sarcastic comments in the margins.

Two hours went by while Apollo droned on. Milena gave up on taking notes, turned on the voice-text conversion, and played Quake II. She was in the third dungeon when Apollo’s shadow fell over her.

"Are you taking good notes, Milena? Can you tell me what your assignment is?"

Milena was very tempted to say ‘Beat Quake on the impossible difficultly level,’ but she decided against it. "I’m to go to Detroit, find Rebaro Gozaldan, and inspire him to make the first deep porn film."

"And why are you doing this instead of Terpsichore?"

Again she wanted to say ‘Because she’s been sucking up big time,’ but the words that came out of her mouth were "She’s busy with the Royal Ballet."

"Good. You paid attention for once. Now don’t forget you have to be back in time for your duty term in thirty days."

Milena groaned inwardly. She hated duty terms with a passion, and this assignment stuck up to high heaven.

"And don’t forget that you need to come up with new categories for everyone. We’re completely neglecting hacking," Apollo called over his shoulder as he left the crisis center.

Milena scowled. It was time to invest in one of those office voodoo kits. Either that or buy a gun. How in the hell was she supposed to inspire someone to make a deep porn film? She didn’t even know what a porn film was. She walked back to her desk and found Clio sitting in her chair.

"God, your assignment sucks! Apollo is really out to get you. First he fired your entire support staff, and then he took away your office, and now this. What did you do to him, run over his dog?"

"I refused to sleep with him."

"My dear girl, you can’t do that. We’re Apollo’s concubines. The only reason he hasn’t married is that he can’t decide between us."

"I wish he’d just hurry up and decide. That might just get him off my back, so I can go back to doing my job. It’s enough to make you want to turn mortal. By the way, what’s a porn film?"

"It’s a movie about people having sex. It’s mostly a guy thing. You’ll probably have to sleep with this guy. What’s his name again?"

"Rebaro Gozaldan"

"With any luck, he’ll look like Ricky Martin."

"Who?"

"Never mind. You’d better leave if you want to catch the shuttle."

Milena nodded agreement and walked away.

A day and a half later, by her personal clock, she got off a plane in Detroit. It smelled and was unbearably hot. She cursed Apollo, went through Customs, and looked up Rebaro Gozaldan.

They met, and he wasn’t half bad looking. Clio had been right, she did have to sleep with him, but he was so good that she overstayed. She was forty days late for her duty shift, but conscious of a job very well done. Apollo yelled at her for three hours, but at the Oscars, Rebaro Gozaldan’s film, Personal Anonymity, won Best Picture, so at least she did something Terpsichore had never managed to do. Then she finished her duty shift, and met up with Rebaro for a six month Caribbean vacation. She had lots of fun, and she beat Quake II. All in all, not bad. She never did finish her story though.