[Episode 10] Orpheus in the Underworld: Crazed Romantic or Dating Coward?

Interesting Fact: The descent of Orpheus into the underworld has been widely dispersed amongst the multiverse, but it has only happened in one reality. Anthropologists are uncertain as to is how this story has spread, but its proliferation is undeniable.

The tale of Orpheus and his legendary love for Eurydice has transcended myth and vocal tradition. It has been retold through opera, stage plays, radio shows, and glopknick ice-dancing. The melodic melancholy of Orpheus is thought to have inspired the infamous pocket-poet Thumbelina, whose striking ballads prompted Worlds War 12.

Mito, Dolly, and Rob Skythrust journey through the Underworld to interview one of the greatest musicians of all time. Join the CBW team as they investigate OSHA violations and Orpheus' unusual preoccupation with matrimony.

Announcer: Welcome to the Crack – the wound between worlds, the rift amongst the stars, the only news network that brings you every story from every reality. You're watching, the CBW Channel.

Mito: Welcome back to the CBW Channel I'm Mito'ca'hondria, lead reporter and resident expert on prophesied heroes. Make sure you have your psychic receptors tuned in to our broadcast so you can all see my lovely face. How are we doing today, Dolly?

Dolly: Burn it all. Burn. It. All.

Mito: Interesting, interesting. How about you, Rob?

Rob: Why? What have I done to deserve this?

Mito: Mr. Stanton gets a little over-enthusiastic about employer-appreciation day.

Rob: A little enthusiastic? That horrible pink dragon ordered us to sign ten thousand cards. Each.

Mito: Mr. Stanton is a fuchsia dragon. The pink dragon is his sister, and she only visits on the big holidays, like this one.

Rob: Sure, there's a huge difference between pink and fuchsia. Those two are practically identical.

Mito: Are you seriously claiming all dragons look alike? That is so specist. Mr. Stanton has teeny tiny spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, and he's small enough to sit in my palm. Ms. Stanton, his sister dips her tail spikes in white polish and calls them frosted tips. She's big enough to fit in your palm, because you're a freakishly oversized humanoid.

Rob: I'm not that tall. You're just extra petite and dainty.

Mito: How dare you? Dolly, he called me the D-word.

Dolly: Ain't nobody got time for y'alls bickering. We have a timeslot to fill and ten thousand cards to sign.

Mito: Fine. I will graciously ignore Rob's horrendous attitude. Mr. Stanton's sister owns a radio network on their homeworld, and they like to compete over that Best Boss Ever Trophy. Whoever gets the most votes takes it home, and they both like to stuff the ballot box.

Dolly: For viewers cursed to live without psychic abilities, our favorite Princess Mitochondria is pointing at the display case behind us. The trophy itself is a rinky-dinky little thing, like the participation trophies passed out at the end of a peewee baseball tournament. The gold paint is cracked and peeling. Instead of going to a proper engraver, the words 'Best Boss Ever' appear to have been written in permanent marker.

Mito: Dr. Ravenwood gave Mr. Stanton that trophy after the boss let him retrofit the basement into a laboratory. That trophy is the perfect size. Mr. Stanton likes to fill the cup with champagne and curl up inside.

Rob: The dragon takes baths in the trophy?

Mito: No, that would be ridiculous. Mr. Stanton likes to relax in the trophy. The champagne bubbles make him feel like he's in a jacuzzi.

Rob: Of course. That makes perfect sense.

Dolly: You two best be off or there won't be any time to cover the latest story.

Rob: Uh, Dolly? You know you're coming with us, right?

Dolly: Oh, sugar. You know I would, but my arthritis has really been acting up. I'd just slow you down.

Rob: Dolly, I am not doing both our jobs so you can stay behind and sign cards.

Dolly: If I don't finish filling out ten thousand voting cards by midnight, I'll be put on a performance plan. Is that what you want? You want to see a poor old woman lose her job?

Rob: My ass is on the line, too. Mr. Stanton threatened to demote me to the shopping channel if I didn't make my quota.

Mito: As my fellow reporters suffer from their lack of preparation, I adjust my shiny, silver top hat. I raise my hand in the vague direction of the ceiling, and brace myself for de-materialization.

Mito: In an instant, we are transported to Universe 483.

Dolly: Universe 483 is darker than an abandoned coal mine. Heavens to Betsy, I can't see the tree right in front of my face.

Rob: That's not a tree. It's me. You don't have to confirm by squeezing my ass. I promise I'm not a tree.

Dolly: Mito, dear, you should probably take us home. I can't imagine how we'll be able to find a story in this void. [sarcastic] Shoot. That's a shame. I'd much rather be investigating than signing cards in the Crack.

Mito: Fortunately for all of us, I'm wearing the silver navigation shoes. I feel around for Rob and Dolly. Once I have a firm grip on their arms, I click my heels. With a lurch, the shoes began walking.

Rob: As the navigation shoes lead us through the darkness, there is only one question on my mind.

Rob: Mito, how in the nine hells did you manage to sign ten thousand voting cards by the time our show started?

Mito: Oh, those? Mr. Stanton does this every year. Every night, I spend half an hour signing voting cards. It's kind of meditative if you do it long enough. I wasn't sure what this year's quota would be, so I actually have an extra six thousand stashed under my bed.

Dolly: Mito, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?

Rob: You're truly stunning. Easily the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.

Mito: I have power.

Dolly: As I regret every rude comment I've ever so much as thought in our favorite lead reporter's presence, I realize the world is getting brighter. It's still dark, but there's a hazy sort of dimness in the air, instead of the pitch blackness we landed in.

Rob: There's just enough light to catch on the sparkles of the silver navigation shoes. The shiny silver lead reporter top hat appears to be faintly glowing. It gives Mito a sort of ethereal radiance.

Mito: I try to investigate the sound of a rushing river, but my navigational shoes refuse to deviate. We travel on and on alongside the river. There is now just enough grayish light to see a man in the distance. He's standing on the riverbank with a large boat and a paddle twice his size.

Rob: Do you think he's the main character? He's too tall and wispy to be anything else, right?

Dolly: I reckon we'll know in a moment. We're headed right for him.

Rob: I almost miss the darkness. This gloomy greyness is unnerving. This place is completely lifeless. Look at all these rock formations. Is it just me, or are they leering?

Mito: Rob has forced me to either agree with him or defend the grimacing stone pillars. Before I can decide which option is less disagreeable- Oof.

Rob: The sparkly shoes jolt to a stop. Mito's arms windmill as she frantically tries to keep herself from toppling into the river. Not because she's clumsy, of course. Mito is very graceful. Like a swan.

Dolly: Swans are not graceful. They look nice on the water, sure, but on land? They waddle like a nine months pregnant hippopotamus. Our dear Mito is as graceful as a ballerina.

Mito: Stop flattering me and help! I think the pointy heel of these navigation shoes is caught between two stones. That's what I get for letting these stupid stilettos off their leash.

Rob: I hurry to help the CBW's best reporter. As I dig her heel out of the rocky shore, the whispy figure watches impassively. It's creepy, but I'd never admit it. There is absolutely no reason for me to sit through another session of HR's sensitivity training.

Dolly: I approach the skeletal fella with a welcoming smile. Hello, sugar. I'm Dolly from the CBW Channel. What's a pretty thing like you doing in this dreary old place?

Charon: Do you have payment for passage?

Rob: Payment? Oh, shit. Do you take galactic credit? I have a few copper pieces? How much do you charge per person?

Mito: Rob, do you ever read my briefings? As lead reporter, I step forward and tilt my shiny, silver top hat.

Mito: We're reporters. Press ride free.

Charon: Very well. Do not touch the water.

Dolly: One by one, we climb into the boat. I was too busy signing voting cards to read the briefing, but something about this situation feels familiar. Maybe it's the cold, ashy sensation of despair.

Dolly: You're Charon, aren't you? And that makes this the River Styx.

Charon: Wrong river. It's a common misconception.

Rob: The man, Charon apparently, gives a deep, heaving sigh, like we've disappointed him immensely. He's less a man and more a man-shaped bundle of tattered shrouds. I've met weirder, so the deep pits in his eyeholes don't bother me. He pushes away from the shore and paddles the boat into the current. His oar is so silent, it slides through the river like a whisper.

Mito: Like a whisper? That's the dumbest simile I've ever heard.

Rob: Your face is a dumb simile. Um, uh, I mean, please tell me more. I'm inspired by your example.

Dolly: [cough] Kiss up

Mito: So, Charon, can you describe your job?

Charon: I guide the dead into the underworld.

Dolly: For a price.

Charon: One gold coin per lost soul.

Mito: Any lost soul, or just the ones that die on this planet?

Charon: Ma'am, I just work here. I'm not high enough on the totem pole to talk about the logistics of ferrying dead people.

Dolly: Oh, Mito. Are you still looking for Dr. Ravenwood? He died ages ago. I'm sure he's already tucked up in heaven, waiting for you.

Mito: I'm telling you, he isn't dead. I saw him in the temporal storm. He was trying to tell me something important.

Dolly: I'm sure you saw him dear, but that doesn't mean it was really Dr. Ravenwood. I bet that temporal storm was just messing with your head.

Rob: This is a nice boat, Charon. You ever do much fishing?

Mito: In case the microphones don't pick it up, I am scoffing at Rob's pathetic attempt to change the topic.

Charon: Can't fish on this river. Nothing lives in these waters. I have a spot upstream where I catch red snapper.

Rob: How big?

Mito: As Charon demonstrates the size of his fish, I stand up to get a better view of the infamous river cutting through the desolate land. The roiling gray surface radiates a peculiar kind of emptiness. It doesn't feel like a river, so much as a rushing stream of something incomprehensible to the mortal mind. As I stare into the churning depths, the cold, slithery something slips behind my eyes and pokes my brain. Hurriedly, I look away and focus on the humanoid figures meandering along the rocky shore. As few languages have the words to describe the horrifying sensation of being examined by a liquid abomination, I decide the River Styx is as good a name as any.

Charon: It's not the Styx. A respectable network like the Crack Between Worlds shouldn't spread disinformation.

Mito: It says Styx in the briefing.

Dolly: You wrote that briefing, dear. Don't give me that look. I'm not arguing with you, Mito. I'm sure you know better than the guy who's spent his immortality ferrying the dead across this river. Six thousand signed voting cards, you said?

Rob: Mito, maybe you should sit down. The water is getting pretty choppy.

Mito: Shush, Rob. Charon, I'm positive this is the Styx. Look, that's the fork where it's supposed to meet the Acheron.

Charon: The Acheron is a river of fire. Does that river look like it's on fire? I found you on the banks of the Lethe, near-

Mito: whoop!

Mito: Shit!

Dolly: As Mito gestured wildly at the river, she lost her balance and toppled into Charon. He tipped over the side and splashed into the river.

Mito: It wasn't me! Just look at the state of this rickety boat. There's peeling black paint and splinters galore. Charon's robe probably snagged on a loose board, and that's why he tumbled into the river.

Dolly: Is that the explanation you're going with, dear? You're going to blame this darling little boat?

Mito: No. I, um, it's Rob's fault. If it wasn't for his freakishly muscular shoulders taking up so much space, I'm sure Charon wouldn't have fallen into the river.

Rob: I ignore Mito's ridiculous accusations and focus on the man drowning in the river of death or pain or whatever it's supposed to be. Actually… Charon doesn't look like he's drowning. He's just sort of… floating. There's a dopey smile on his eyeless face. His skeletal hands slap at the water, but I don't think he's trying to swim. Charon is just admiring the splashes.

Mito: This is clearly a hazardous workplace. There are so many safety violations, it's a wonder the Underworld hasn't been shut down.

Dolly: I don't think the Underworld has Osha, dear.

Rob: I grab the long oar and fish Charon out of the river. Mito's briefing was full of dire warnings, so I'm careful not to touch the water. She's wrong more often than she's right, but I'd rather not risk it. Charon doesn't seem to care about being pulled out of the river. He just pokes the oar. I manage to wedge it underneath his spine. He dangles above the river like I'm pulling a limp noodle out of incredibly dangerous pasta water. He's very light, but I guess that makes sense, seeing as he's more skeleton than man.

Dolly: Rob deposits the dripping bundle of bones onto the boat. Normally, I'd try to see what all those tattered shrouds are hiding, but our hapless ferryman just seems sort of soggy. His eyeless face seems to examine us for a long moment.

Charon: What did you do that for? The water was perfect.

Dolly: How do you feel, sugar?

Charon: Oh, me? I'm great. Do you know how I ended up in this delightful place?

Dolly: You don't remember?

Charon: Is that a prerequisite? [lower voice to a whisper] Am I trespassing?

Mito: No, Charon. You're-

Charon: Charon? Is that my name? How delightful. I love the way it rolls in my mouth like a hunk of quartz.

Mito: Okay, fine. I admit it. We are floating through the River Lethe. Its waters wash away memories.

Dolly: We gave the skeleton amnesia?

Charon: Amnesia! That's an even better word. Can my name be amnesia instead?

Mito: Congratulations, Charon. You came here for a job interview. We spoke to a lot of candidates, and you are the clear winner.

Charon: A job?

Dolly: It's a great job. All you have to do is row this boat around. Look over there. I see a fella waiting for a ride. Why don't you give it a shot?

Rob: As Charon seizes the oar and begins paddling, I shoot my companions a glare. I'm not really sure what amnesia is, but I think this guy needs a doctor.

Mito: [whispered] Do you see any doctors roaming the Underworld? Even if we used the hat to take him to a hospital, the staff wouldn't be equipped to treat River Lethe-related memory loss. When someone is confused and lost in a strange world, the best treatment is to give them a job.

Dolly: Mito, dear, you've been spending too much time with Mr. Stanton. Charon runs the boat onto the rocky shore. After a quick instruction from Mito, he holds out his hand.

Rob: The newcomer looks behind him, before reluctantly admitting to himself that he is the only one Charon could possibly be addressing. His grip tightens on his lyre. I haven't seen a lyre since I left my homeworld. Viewers, you'll be in for a real treat if I can convince him to play for us.

Mito: Charon, ask that guy for payment.

Charon: Do you have payment for passage?

Orpheus: Here.

Dolly: My eyes might be playing tricks on me, but the newcomer looks a tad more alive than I'd expect from a dead man dropping a golden coin into Charon's palm. He climbs into the boat, and we set off once more. I'm not really sure Charon knows where to go, but at least we know which river he's paddling through. If we keep following the current, I'm sure we'll end up somewhere important.

Mito: I'm Mito'ca'hondria from the CBW Channel. What brings you to the Underworld?

Orpheus: I'm Orpheus. Death stole my wife, Eurydice. I'm here to bring her home. Ferryman, you must take me to the lord of the Underworld so I can plead my case.

Mito: Obligingly, Charon begins paddling with new vigor. We're still going with current, but at least we're going faster? I exchange uncomfortable glances with my fellow reporters. As Rob searches for a map, I wonder if perhaps we've made a mistake in offering Charon a job. Dead people seldom have opinions on destinations, but this living man might be a problem. I don't see any obvious underworld castles in the distance. Maybe Orpheus would settle for a nice patch of riverbank?

Dolly: You came all this way to bring your wife back to life? Are you sure about this, dear? Most men would just remarry. You're young and handsome.

Mito: If you can play that lyre in your lap, I'm sure you won't have any trouble getting a date. Women love musicians.

Rob: I play the lyre myself. I only know two songs, but I've never had any complaints. Any time someone requests a song I don't know, I just give them the smolder.

Mito: The smolder?

Rob: You know, the smolder.

Dolly: I think it's a special skill only love interests can learn. It's like a growl or a smirk. It wouldn't be sexy on anyone but a love interest. You've never seen it? Mito, you need to start dating again. If I ever get out of here, I'll set you up with my youngest son. You want babies, right?

Mito: I haven't thought much about it.

Dolly: Never mind. I'll find you someone else.

Charon: I'd like babies. I could teach them my trade.

Dolly: Maybe you should focus on your career for now. Ladies love a man with job security.

Orpheus: I could never abandon my love. I will find Eurydice and bring her back to the land of the living.

Mito: Do you have a micro-penis?

Rob: Mito!

Dolly: I was about to ask the same thing. I hope you know that's not a deal-breaker, Orpheus. You might think that this Eurydice was the only woman who could love a man with a micro-penis, but women don't care as much as you'd think. Whether you're packing a cucumber or a gherkin, a lot of ladies care more about-

Rob: Dolly! Please stop talking about vegetables.

Orpheus: My penis is fine.

Dolly: Just fine? You don't sound too sure. Do you want me to check?

Orpheus: Great. It's great. I have a spectacular penis. I want to save Eurydice because I love her more than can be contained in mortal flesh alone. Her voice is as fine as birdsong, and her eyes are the deepest mossy green. She is intelligent and vivacious and she simply can't be dead.

Mito: Did you know two out of five marriages end in divorce? In places where divorce doesn't exist, there are a lot more mysterious deaths. Coincidentally, the companies selling rat poison make a killing.

Orpheus: Eurydice and I would've loved one another until the end of man's reign. You cannot possibly understand the depth of our love.

Rob: She sounds great.

Orpheus: When she sneezed, it sounded like the honking of a goose. I miss those little honks.

Dolly: That might be the most romantic thing you've said.

Rob: What's your plan?

Orpheus: I'm going to march up to Hades himself and demand he release my beloved.

Mito: That's… one option. What will you do if he refuses?

Orpheus: I'll play my lyre for him.

Dolly: Are you any good? If you're going to use the lyre as a threat, you ought to be either really good or really bad.

Orpheus: I'm the best musician alive. When my beloved died, I played with such emotion, the very rocks wept.

Mito: Sobbing stones is a good start, but you have to make sure your pitch is solid. Do you want to practice? I'm sure Charon here needs another few minutes to get us to the right place.

Charon: It all looks the same. Am I going in the right direction?

Mito: Absolutely. You're a natural.

Dolly: Go on, Orpheus. Stand up. Square those manly shoulders. Confidence is key, you know. If you're going to run around demanding things from death, you'd better have gumption.

Orpheus: How's this?

Rob: I think you look great. Oh, uh, do you know what would make you look better? Notta Perfume.

Mito: We've switched sponsors.

Dolly: Do you have a big presentation coming up? Do you plan to ask your boss for a raise, suggest an innovative new strategy at the next war council, or announce your candidacy for chancellor of the known universe?

Rob: Try Llama Cigarettes, the favorite cigarette of people with lung cancer.

Mito: Studies show Llama cigarettes make people look 40% more confident, and they make you smell cool. That smoke will stick to your clothes better than any perfume.

Rob: Remember, confident people smoke Llama Cigarettes.

Dolly: Orpheus stares at the cigarette he's been given. He doesn't seem to know what to do with it. I'd light his cigarette any day, but Charon runs us into the shore before I can offer. It looks just like every other inch of riverbank in this place. Most folks would probably double check they were in the right spot, but Orpheus seems oddly eager to leave the boat.

Orpheus: Uh, this is my stop. I don't know how helpful cigarettes will be, but thanks? I guess?

Dolly: You are just too sweet. Here, take a second pack. You can give them to Hades if you need a bribe. Ooh. You'd better the whole carton. You can't forget about Cerebus, that three-headed dog.

Rob: Do dogs smoke?

Dolly: I've seen a monkey smoke. I'm sure a determined dog could figure it out. Are you sure you want to do this? There's a lot of living women who would date a musician.

Orpheus: Very sure.

Dolly: [sigh] Whatever cranks your tractor. You hurry on now, sugar. Good luck.

Rob: Orpheus waves goodbye, then tosses the Llama Cigarettes behind a rock formation when he thinks we aren't looking.

Charon: I think I'm getting good at this ferrying thing.

Mito: You're a great paddler, and I'm sure the navigation part will get easier. Everyone knows navigating is the hardest part of travel, but you're a sharp guy. You'll be an expert in no time.

Dolly: Much as I'd love to see how this ends, our time slot is just about over, and I have voting cards to sign.

Rob: So. Many. Cards. My hand cramps just thinking about it. I'll never finish in time.

Dolly: Can't never could do anything, Rob. Be grateful you don't have arthritis. My fingers crackle when they move, but you don't hear me complaining.

Mito: Ugh. Fine. I will give you my extra ballots.

Dolly: Really? Mito, you're a darling. Six thousand voting cards. That nearly fills my quota.

Rob: Oh. Yeah. That's… great for you, Dolly.

Mito: I actually meant that you two could split them. Three thousand voting cards is still a lot of voting cards. Please don't make that face, Dolly. I'll help you sign the rest of them. If all three of us get an assembly line going, we'll be done by midnight. If we can get the people from the shopping channel involved as well, maybe there will even be time to grab dinner.

Rob: Yes! That's perfect.

Dolly: I reckon that's a good plan. Three thousand voting cards is still more than a quarter of the ten thousand Mr. Stanton wants.

Mito: Up next is Love Chasm, the only dating show that takes place in a deep crevice. You've heard of love at first sight, now get ready for love at first 'Ahh! Someone help me! The canyon centipedes are trying to eat me!' Watch as twenty-four lonely singles stumble through the dark and into love.

Rob: Regular dating shows focus on looks and sex appeal. On Love Chasm, contestants look for partners with the qualities that really matter: Survival skills and rock climbing experience.

Mito: If you're interested in joining the next season, the CBW Channel is accepting applications now. Just stand in a dark corner and start chanting! Our producers will need your name, address, and reason for your last failed relationship. The shadow people will whisk you away for auditions.

Rob: Aren't they still on strike?

Mito: Different shadow people. These ones are a bit more carnivorous. Aquatic species, superpowered water witches, and merpeople are especially encouraged to apply, as the next season will take place in an underwater trench so deep, submarines have never reached the bottom.

Dolly: Do you mean to tell me there will be mer-men at auditions? Sexy, shirtless mer-men with flowing hair and biceps the size of my face?

Mito: There will definitely be mermen, but they hardly ever look like that. Most oceans are pretty cold, and blubber is a fantastic insulator. They're usually really strong, but muscle definition doesn't usually improve underwater survivability. So, um, imagine seals with faces.

Dolly: Oh. I suppose this is a day for disappointment. Ta-ta for now, my lovelies!