Taskmaster

Atop Sinai, as Yahweh revises stone tablets and Moses lays prone, Hermes slips down onto the mountain carrying a letter and a large wool sack.

“Shall I?” Hermes asks.

Yahweh nods and Hermes opens the letter.

“My Dearest, before proceeding with the Hebrews, please consider the enclosed. All my love, your Asherah.”

From the sack then springs an Egyptian Taskmaster, caked in sand and partially decomposed. He slowly raises a bony arm toward Moses.

“He killed me,” the Taskmaster groans.

“Lord, he was brutally beating a man,” says Moses.

“You could have ordered me to stop,” says the Taskmaster. “And reported me. You had options.”

Moses cries out, “Lord, I was filled with anger!”

Yahweh sighs. “I inspired you to strike this man and go into exile and eventually find me.”

The Taskmaster is surprised and confused. “You had him kill me as ... a call to adventure? Surely, you had options.”

Yahweh whispers to Moses, “It felt wonderful to unleash that rage, did it not?”

Moses boldly stares into God. “Do you feel pleasure when you unleash your rage?”

“May I go back now?” the Taskmaster asks. Hermes helps him back into the sack.

“It is not beyond Zeus to fake this letter – to fake the Egyptian,” ponders Yahweh aloud.

“They are genuine. Do you wish to reply?” Hermes asks, pen poised.

“Tell her – that I miss her, and that I would probably make better choices if she were here.”

“Very good, and be well,” says Hermes as he glides away, off Sinai.