[ WP ] In a last ditch effort to bring about climate change and secure high ratings , the Weather Channel hires the only one for the job : you .

`` Why me.'' It's always the question I start with. Every day. 
 
 Of course, I know why, but still ***why*** me? Sure, I'm uniquely qualified -- but seriously why at all. Then I look at the paycheck. I'm still not sure how they're paying quite this well. 
 
 Wait. Let me back up. So it is now 2053 AD ( why *that* guy gets to have the calendar centered around him is still a sore point too, mind -- year of ***OUR*** Lord? -- yeah right ), and humanity managed to finally quit polluting everything quite so much, and things calmed down. My hundred year headache starts subsiding. One of the worst I've ever had, even after all the tempests back when....you know, it does n't matter. 
 
 So anyway, I wake up from my coma -- medically induced -- for a regular check in with the world, and find it's not so bad. I figure, why not wake up and see how the world is getting on? So I start kicking around, checking on my old haunts and all ( by the way, I *still* think your modern architecture is boring ), when I flip on your new style television and start watching news. Not bad at all. 
 
 So I relax. Spend a few years taking care of a fairly large backlog of messages, when this guy in a boring grey suit shows up. Not like a light grey, but the old-school charcoal grey that sucks up all the light. He's wearing dark sunglasses, a black tie, and a blacker shirt. This guy is in love with himself, I think. Nobody wears that much black on accident. 
 
 `` Mr. Smith?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Sure, we can go with that. I prefer my other na --'' He stops me with an uplifted hand. 
 
 `` Sorry, we know your name, but please, we need a certain degree of anonymity. We're tied in fairly close with the skeptics and scientists, and they would really prefer we did n't admit certain details of your past. Even in private.'' 
 
 `` Okaaaaay.'' I drew it out, not sure where he was going. 
 
 `` Look, it's been going this direction for a few centuries, Mr. Smith. Scientism requires it, and we've always been one to follow the trends.'' 
 
 `` Okay, but who *are* you?'' I'm afraid my annoyance at his manner showed through a bit. It bounced of his armor of arrogance like a pebble bouncing off a barn wall. 
 
 `` I represent a group whose interests lie with your peculiar -- perhaps unique -- abilities. Bluntly, we would like to bring you into our organization as an independent contractor.'' 
 
 `` Doing what?'' 
 
 `` Oh, do n't be obtuse. The one job that you can do better than anyone else.'' 
 
 `` I do n't follow.'' I did though. Even from the beginning. But I was slipping over to panic mode. I mean *how* did this guy find me? I'd taken great care not to let on that I was awake and moving around, let alone who I was. I had a decoy still laying in that hospital bed, faking a coma patient. You do n't get to my age without learning how to hide from people. 
 
 He smirked though. *At me! * I nearly lost it there. I mean really, the sheer balls that took were impressive, but more importantly this guy just seemed to think he was superior to everyone. Including me. It had been a long time since I'd encountered that attitude. I was n't sure, initially, though, if it was because he'd dealt with similar situations or if it was because he was a product of the sciencism culture that had become so pervasive. I'd been reading up on it -- silly stuff, mind you, but there it is. 
 
 After a moment of letting that smirking smile linger on his face, he said, `` Come now, Mr. Smith, you and I both know that that is n't true. Of course you follow. Now, let's just pretend that you've done your usual protests and complaints, and get down to business. We've put together what we think will be a very attractive contract and benefits package. All for what, in the end, really amounts to very little ef --'' 
 
 I got mad then. I explained -- in great detail, mind you -- just how wrong that idea was. I wound up with, `` What really matters -- the important thing! -- is that you have NO. IDEA. WHAT. YOU. ARE. ASKING!!'' 
 
 I was shouting, raging, but the suit just sat there, took it all in, and waited for me to stop, panting for breath. The forced coma had left me out of shape, and all my paperwork and catching up had left me with little time to put my body back in shape. 
 
 I must have said something to trigger his self-preservation instincts -- either that or he really wanted me on this job, because he apologized profusely, but arrogantly. `` I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. It seems that our research was misguided on this question. Still, if you would consider just *looking* at the package, I still think you might find it worth the effort.'' 
 
 `` Okay, fine.'' I settled myself. I needed to know how he had found me. He handed me a single page. I looked at it. It was written in concise and simple terms. I was impressed. I got to the annual salary. My jaw dropped open. Then again when they specified the payment *method*. 
 
 I cleared my throat before responding. `` That's... that's an unusual offer.'' 
 
 `` Mr. Smith, we may have been mislead about the difficulty of what we're asking, but I assure you that despite that, we do fully understand the magnitude of it. And your talents are unique.'' 
 
 Actually they were n't, but at this point my curiosity had been beaten into submission by that other primary driving emotion. Greed. 
 
 `` I see that. Can you deliver on that contract?'' It was a valid question. They were promising a lot. 
 
 `` Absolutely. We've been setting aside for this for quite some time, and even though right now our direct income is a bit slow -- otherwise we would n't need you -- we have a substantial nest egg that will last for plenty of time, even with your compensation included. Plenty of time, that is, if you take the contract.'' 
 
 My greed has gotten me in trouble over my life several times. More than I want to admit, so I wo n't go into those details now. `` I see. Okay, let's sign this.'' 
 
 We did, and I went to work for The Weather Channel. I started small that first few months, working up to the big push. I knew that this would end up hurting me at first -- it always takes me a while to adjust to new weather patterns, but in the long run, what they wanted was n't so different from what I wanted. They wanted storms. Freak hurricanes, deadly and dangerous tornadoes, earthquakes, blizzards, and every other kind of'natural' disaster. Except those were n't natural. Never had been mostly. 
 
 But why me? I still wonder that. I'm hardly the only weather god. Raijin has been kicking around for just as long as I have. Thor, although he spends most of his time drunk, is an A-class storm god. So what do I have that those guys do n't? 
 
 I mean, the Assyrians quit a long time ago as a people. They've been remolded, revamped, redone a hundred times over. The list of people who know who Adad is has n't been very long in a couple thousand years, and limited to scholars recently. 
 
 Oh well. Yeah, I'd like to know why, but revenge for the death of my beloved? I'll take that. A chance to get off this planet for good? Yeah, that sounds good to. And in the end, getting relocated to Mars sounds like a great plan. There are some *impressive* natural storms there, and without the other weather gods around to screw things up, I should be able to really make the place work again. And the mortals get what they need at least twice. 
 
 Eh, on second thought, who cares *why*. I'll take their money, and their planet.
