We’re immortal, but only to an extent. But we don’t have wings. Not any more, not for a very long time. Very few of us ever did anyway. None of them, to the best of our knowledge, are still around.
We`re immortal because we don’t possess the gene for mortality. The switch that ends replication after about fifty-five spins of the dial. But we can die and we do if we’re not careful.
Most of us, eventually, were not careful enough.
Men called us gods but back in the good old days, being a god was not all that pre-prescribed. We certainly were not eternal, omniscient, omnipresent, omni-benevolent or omnipotent like today’s gods are expected to be. But we did tend to last for a long time and because of that, to know a lot. And we accumulated great wealth, and with it, great power, … over time. And we had great times. A Nephilim party was very, very memorable … back then.
In our relative youth, we were like the nouveau riche have been during the last millennium. We wanted all the attention and notoriety we could get. We started the adage “there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” We didn’t care what kind of attention we got, as long as we got a lot of it. But over the millennia, we mellowed and now, we treasure our anonymity above almost everything else.
None of us liked being servants, a trait we inherited from our ancestral mother, and so, fairly early on, we conquered our less long lived neighbors and ruled them. First we were kings, but as we survived and they did not, they came to consider us as qualitatively different, which is how, as I’ve said, we became their gods.
Initially we mated only among our own kind and in doing so passed on our longevity, great size and beauty. But in creating new generations of our long lived species, we created too much potential for conflict as with each new generation, the bonds of family tended to fray and then to dissolve. Our descendants eventually became our competitors as room for our independent realms became less and less available, and that led to serious and deadly conflicts. However, we noted very early on that our genes were not dominant when we mated with regular humans, the descendants of our ancestral mother’s first husband by his second wife. While such mixed-blood progeny tended to be larger and more beautiful and longer lived than our purely human subjects, they were noticeably inferior to us in every way, especially in their obvious mortality after a span of years, and their children were inferior to them so that, in a number of generations, they were not too much different than our normal subjects. Consequently, those “children” provided us with much less serious competition than did our full blooded descendants, while preserving some of the more pleasant aspects of parenthood, especially those relating to conception.
As the benefits of limiting our progeny to those we sired on our subjects became obvious, and after a time, the norm, a taboo developed among us against sexual congress between Nephilim, the only way to stabilize our population. But then we started drifting away from each other. Apparently, sex had been an important binding force. Nowadays we rarely run into each other, and, except in very rare occasions, we do not seek each other out. Those few of us that remain.
And it’s true. We no longer really have subjects. Amazingly, humans have survived on their own, despite being excellent at finding excuses to exterminate themselves.
Their proclivity for invention has deeply affected our own lives, especially their recent experiments with contraception. Now, … if one wants to avoid progeny, it’s a simple thing. Their anti-conception medications work when we mate with ordinary humans and some of us have met to consider whether they might work to avoid conception if we again engage in copulation with each other. We’re all curious, those of us with whom we’ve been able to resume contact, and have agreed that an experiment will be worthwhile, if done on a very limited basis. We’ve learned a great deal of patience over the millennia so we’re taking our time in deciding who should participate in the experiment. We’re a bit wary of changing the manner in which we’ve limited our interaction, so, as I just said, we’re being very careful. After all, we have plenty of time.
Our two biggest concerns involve what we’ll do if the experiment works, and what we’ll do with our new children if it fails. If it works, there will be a temptation to renew more regular contact. The joy of sexual congress among equals is an incomparable delight and we did not forsake it without great regret. But, … have we matured enough to avoid the competition and conflicts that led to our separation?
There’s much to think about. But as I said, we’ve plenty of time, unless the humans manage to destroy themselves and us with them in the interim. Something that seems more probable all the time. Who’d have ever believed when everything began (as far as we were concerned) that their destroying us along with themselves would ever be a serious possibility?
Perhaps we should reassert ourselves again; for everyone’s benefit.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Ocala, 2004, revised, Manizales, 2023; all rights reserved. Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.
Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). He can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.