“Then the gods realized they must create substitutes for themselves: men. But how? For them to be truly alive, a god must die. Mami, the midwife, could mix some clay with the blood of the god called Geshtue. The other gods would purify themselves, three times in a month, immersed in water. A spirit penetrated the clay with Geshtue’s blood. And the clay began to throb. From then on, the spirit remembered the god he had belonged to.

“Mami went into the chamber of destiny, together with Ea. She began to knead the clay, streaked with blood. And whispered one of her spells, for she had once been a sorceress. Seven lumps of clay to the right, seven to the left. They became men and women. Now she placed a mud brick in the middle. Where we come from everything begins with mud bricks. She cut it in half with a piece of bamboo and, one by one, placed the lumps of clay beside each other. Nothing else was required. Soon afterward, those shapeless pieces of clay began to mate. Ishtar watched and was pleased.

“It was Ea, my protector, who explained to the Anunnaki what they must do. Ea had always been the most farsighted. Left to their own devices, the Anunnaki would have become mired in endless conflicts. But Ea spoke the crucial words: ‘Let men carry the gods’ burden!’ Simple words that we still live by. That you, Sindbad, live by. They spell out the basics: the burden, the gods. All else is superfluous.

“Of Geshtue, I shall say very little. His name means ‘ear,’ no memorable deeds are attributed to him. But I do know he was thought intelligent. Perhaps that was why he was chosen. They killed him, all acting together, during the Anunnaki council. They shed blood together and together they purified themselves in water. The water of Ea.

“I have never understood why a god had to be killed in order for men to exist. In any event, it wasn’t Ea who suggested it. All he said was that some creature had to be found who could take the place of the gods. But the Anunnaki were all in favor of the killing. And the deed had to be done in a particular place: along the Durmahu, the bond, the rope, the axis that ties the heavens to the earth. I heard this from the seven Apkallu, the Holy Carp, the Seven Sages of Ea, who were close relatives of mine.

“I have told you these stories of the gods and the burdens because, when you lived in Baghdad, before you met Sindbad the Sailor, they called you Sindbad the Porter. You went around all day with heavy burdens on your head. Moving merchandise from one place to another. It was your whole life.”

II

Sindbad was befuddled again. He heard strange names, foreign sounds. And someone was speaking as though he knew every detail of his life. He couldn’t see why these stories were so urgent. He would have preferred to be told where he was. He looked around and thought: