“Hey, Atlas. You gonna be done with that whole mapping thing soon? My back is killing me.”
“I thought you were stronger than that, Hercules.”
“It’s the bloody world, man. You try holding it up for ten hours. Who cares about all your lines anyway?”
“One day people will have things called globes and maps. My lines will be important. There will be borders to divide people, and detours, as well. Everyone will speak different languages and it will be a huge mess. But my lines will keep everyone in their place…unless someone invents airplanes, then the lines won’t matter all that much except for wars and things like that.”
“What’s an airplane?” asked Hercules.
“I don’t know exactly. There aren’t any yet.”
“How do you know where to put the lines?”
“I just making them up as I go along.”
“I’m gonna put the world down for awhile and grab a snack.”
“Good idea,” said Atlas. “I’m a bit peckish myself. I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“My favorite,” said Hercules.
“I have lemonade as well.”
“You’re the best.”
“It’s always the little details that matter the most,” said Atlas, smiling. “The smallest line can divide a nation.”