Pandora? What was Zeus talking about?

I watched, fascinated, as Hephaestus limped into the room, pulling a wheeled platform. Whatever was on it was draped with a cloth.

Hephaestus walked slowly, so it took him some time to pull the platform to the center of the room. Hephaestus is the son of Hera and Zeus. As you know, those two are always bickering. Once, when Hephaestus was young, his parents started quarreling. Hephaestus spoke up. He sided with Hera. Big mistake! Zeus got angry. He picked up Hephaestus up and flung him so hard and so high that he sailed off Mount Olympus and fell for a whole day. At last he came down on the island of Lemnos. He landed hard, stubbing the big toe of his left foot, and he’s limped ever since.

The sea goddess Thetis found Hephaestus lying on the sand, holding his foot and whimpering. She bandaged his toe, but there was nothing she could do it fix it. Finally, Hephaestus limped home to Olympus. Father and son forgave each other. Zeus even said Hephaestus could marry Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. Aphrodite wasn’t all that crazy about the idea. But she agreed because she was crazy about the gold jewelry Hephaestus made at his forge, this great, huge, hot furnace. When Zeus saw how talented Hephaestus was at his forge, he made him the god of fire. Hephaestus made the thrones for all the Olympians. He’s an excellent sculptor, too. I wondered what he’d made now.

“All right, Hephaestus.” Zeus rubbed his hands together with glee. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Heeeeere’s . . . Pandora!” Hephaestus yanked off the cloth. On the platform stood a white marble statue of a young goddess. She was smaller than a real goddess. But just as beautiful. She looked a lot like Aphrodite. Hephaestus had made her lips from red rubies. Her eyes were blue sapphires. He’d carved her head so that it looked as if her hair were pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck.

All at once, Zeus started shouting. “You dunderheaded lout! You muddle-skulled nincompoop!”

“Who, me?” said Hephaestus.

“Yes, you!” roared Zeus. “I have a mind to pick you up and hurl you to the ends of the universe!”

“Why?” Hephaestus looked truly puzzled. “You told me to make a statue of a beautiful goddess. Only smaller. And that’s what I did!”

I was so confused as Hephaestus. Why was Zeus so angry? And why did he want to give a statue to the guys?

“You were supposed to make it out of the clay from the bank of the River Asopus!” shouted Zeus.

“But marble is better than clay!” said Hephaestus.

“Not the clay I’m talking about,” said Zeus. “That clay has sparks of life in it! It’s what Prometheus used to make his mortals. That’s how they came to life. You think marble can come to life?”

“Guess not,” muttered Hephaestus. “Sorry, Dad.”

“You didn’t know, honey!” Hera called out to her son. “I’m sure your daddy wasn’t clear about what he wanted. His communication skills are terrible.”

I was catching on. Zeus had wanted Pandora to come to life. Then he’d send her down to earth. She’d meet the guys. Only one of her among all those guys. The old schemer knew that would cause trouble.

“Take her away!” Zeus was shrieking. “ I never want to see that hunk of cold stone again as long as I—” He stopped. A gleam came into his eyes. “Wait. Maybe there’s another way. Yes! The winds can breathe life into Pandora.” He turned to his bodyguards. “Force! Violence! Get me the winds. All four of them. I mean now!”

The bodyguards hurried from the room. They hadn’t been gone long when the door blew open, and a warm gust of air breezed in.

“It’s me, Zephyr,” said a breathy voice. “West Wind, at your service.”

“Where are the other winds?” shouted Zeus. “Why aren’t they here?”

“Don’t get your toga in a twist,” said Zephyr. “First tell me what you want.”

“I want the winds to breathe life into that!” Zeus pointed at Pandora.

I felt Zephyr blowing gently around the statue. “Well, well, who have we here?”

“Pandora!” said Zeus. “Listen, Zipper. Call your brothers. Let’s get moving here!”

A breeze rippled through the room. “He doesn’t even know my name,” said Zephyr. “But he wants me to help him.” Suddenly Zeus’s hair begin to blow all over the place. It made a mess of his comb-over and revealed his bald spot. It was bigger than I’d remembered.

“Somebody had better remember to drink his daily nectar, or he’s going to be as bald as a baby’s bottom,” said Zephyr, still gusting.

“Hey, cut it out!” Zeus said. He clapped a hand on top of his head and tried to smooth his hair back into place.

“I can take care of this for you solo, Zeus,” said Zephyr. “I don’t think you want my brothers up here on peaceful Mount Olympus anyway. Boreas, the North Wind, will make you shiver. Notus, the South Wind, will blow through here like a hurricane. Eurus, the East Wind, is a tornado specialist. I’d hate to see your palace after they blew into town.”

“All right!” cried Zeus. “Enough talk! If you can do it, get to work!”

All the gods grew quiet, waiting. I thought Zephyr might have to blow up a strong wind to bring a marble statue to life. But she didn’t work that way.

Puff!

Pandora blinked her sapphire eyes.

Another puff!

She twitched her nose.

And so it went, puff by puff. Color came into Pandora’s cheeks. Her robe turned from stone to cloth. And her hair that had been carved from marble turned to shiny black tresses.

Finally: Puff!

Pandora’s ruby lips curved up in a smile. She turned her head. She seemed to see us. But she had a blank look on her face, as if she weren’t quite finished.

“She’s alive,” said Zephyr. “But empty as a satyr’s wine jug. Well, my part’s done. Don’t bother thanking me, Zeus. I might faint from surprise.”

“Just go,” said Zeus, shooing her with both hands. “Go, go, go!”

And Zephyr blew away.

“That worked great, Dad,” said Hephaestus. “Now do you like my statue?”

But the old myth-o-maniac didn’t bother to answer. He hurried over to Pandora. “Hello there, sweetheart!” he said.

Will you look at that,” said Hera. “Two minutes ago, she was a hunk of rock. And now he’s flirting with her!”

Zeus held out a hand and helped Pandora step down from the platform. She stood gazing at him with a small, meaningless smile.

Zeus turned to us. “It’s up to us Olympians to finish her. The name Pandora means ‘everybody gave me a real nice gift.’ So give her gifts. You get the idea. Hera, you go first. Start things off. What can you give Pandora?”