With purpose, and a focused mind, I prepare to petition the god. Up from my desk I rise, and walk forth. Down the hall, into the room where his idol waits.

I pull my offering from my pocket: a small piece of paper covered with symbols, and the face of a past leader, all done in green.

Carefully, I prepare it, making sure it is flat, and smooth. The god will accept nothing less. With two hands, and head bowed, I hold my offering to his mouth, my breath holds for a second. Is it good enough? Will he accept it?

It starts to pull from my fingers, but this is no guarantee. He will consider it’s worth, and quality. If it’s not good enough he will spit it out. He is not a mean god, but he is a strict one.

He would let me try again, but today, there is no need. He accepts my offering. I can touch his colorful side, adorned with symbols, and raised areas for the hands of supplicants.

I choose one, head still bowed, and wait.

It is rare for a supplicant to be rejected at this point, but it has happened; sometimes they choose wrong, and sometimes it seems the god changes his mind, to teach them a lesson maybe… Who can know how the mind of a god works.

An instant later a sound emerges from deep within the idol. And a bright cylinder appears in his pocket. A cylinder for me! It is a Coke! The god has accepted my offering! With shaky hands I pull the tab, and feel the sweet caffeinated rush of his glory.