Age of Hermes

When you clasp hands with another and say, "Thank you, talk soon,"

I am there.

I am the god of making it happen. Letters, data cables, messaging.

I am the god of enterprise and, not coincidentally, thievery. I have cameras for eyes and speak through wavelengths invisibly.

I was a minor God once, when you were herding, orating, and by stars navigating. You feared storms, you feared death—Hard power was king.

Now, we simply evade it—better ships, forecasts, and medicine. We trapped lightning in gold filaments and made Zeus our denizen.

The big three are constrained by physical laws and finity.

Not so for me.

You once prayed for swift passage and a good price at the market. Today, my clients include Best Buy and Target.

I am the god of the multinational corporation, surveillance, conspiracy. I’m the messy path you walked to make the Anthropocene.

I’m all grown up now.

My followers run C-suites in tech, finance, and SaaS. Winged sandals become the wingtips I wear in first class.

I’m the god of information, darling. And in your world, that’s everything.