"Ugh," she scowls, "probably the only option that respects their consent is five, with walls as something they can request in the negotiation, initiated by either mass disarmament or tying a starry ribbon around every gun with a letter explaining that they need to sit down and talk. If we go with disarmament, we're basically hoping the nations supplying guns can't do same-day turnaround and vanishing any shipments bound for Myanmar you find the next night. If we go with ribbons on guns, we're hoping the demonstration of your ability to reach out and touch every weapon in the region is sufficiently scary that they listen."

She shakes her head. "Can you do aggregate statistics of prayers? Or mental states of prayed-about populations?"

It's more instinctive than that. I think I could learn to, with training, but I don't have the capacity right now. And I can't read mental states of people who aren't praying to me. 

Thinking of doing vote-by-prayer? I think I could sense relative proportions that way but not finely, as I currently am. 

I think reaching out and touching every weapon to scare them into negotiating is a good idea. I was thinking of dyeing them all. Keep in mind they can't know if I've sabotaged them somehow. I could make the guns radioactive if I wanted, or poisonous, or make all the ammunition into blanks, or etc etc etc any number of sabotages.

My fundamental problem with this plan is that it amounts to declaring that I'm the Queen of the world. I'm asserting a monopoly on legitimate violence.

But I kind of already did that when I vanished all the drug lords' guns, so, you know. Too late now. 

She nods. "Yeah, it's definitely too late. Functionally you are queen of the world, and all other states continue to exist only to the extent that you allow them to. There's an argument that the two biggest sources of governmental problems are incompetence and having incentives for things other than human flourishing. Dunno if it's right, but it's an argument. And you don't have other incentives. You can't be removed from power, there's no way to inflict violence on you, and so your only concern is rearranging the world so it's no longer so full of suffering that your heart aches to see it, that way you can just live peacefully and enjoy the sight of happy flourishing people. In some ways you're the ideal queen of the world."

A low sigh. "There's a lot of good reason to keep other states around, in so far as they deign to not suck, what with the whole not wanting to micromanage everything deal, but at the end of the day you do hold a monopoly on force. You have the literal biggest stick, on top of an immunity to everyone else's sticks."

Don't flatter me too hard. I've already made mistakes before, and I'm going to make more again. I just hope they're small enough I can live with them. 

And the issue is I don't actually have a total monopoly on violence. During the daytime I'm helpless. There has to be a real structure solid enough to survive during the 12ish hours of every day when I'm not available to fix things. If I just deleted all the weapons in the world, do you think that'd end well? I sure don't think so. But I'm tempted every time I hear someone pray for — 

— sorry, I was about to. Elaborate on some of the things I've been hearing. 

I need to take a break. A real break. Not just lingering here in between thousands of emergencies. I need to set the work down for a little while. 

It hurts to have to.

I really shouldn't though. People are dying right now, I can feel them winking out mid-prayer — 

Let's just get Myanmar done and then I will rest. 

We're agreed on the nice-bows-around-weapons thing?

"I'm not saying you're infallible. We definitely need a solid crew of policy advisors in the Temple. I'm saying that you're unstoppable. The problem is that while having the absolute biggest stick is sufficient to rule, it's not sufficient to rule well. Which is why the advisors and good incentives are important. You've got the incentives. We just need the advisors now."

She shakes her head.

"Yeah. We're going to talk ourselves into more headaches and heartaches if you don't take a break. You're right. Bows around weapons and letters telling everyone to sit down and talk about an alternative to killing each other. And then you're taking a real break."

"I care about you, Goddess. A lot. You've done a lot for humanity in less than a day. You deserve to rest, heal, and relax for a time."

She shoots off another message to quiet-wings.

I hope the egg wrap is tasty!

Mmmh. Yeah, it is. The tomato is hitting real nice after this morning. Thanks.

... I feel like I should complain but honestly I appreciate your help so far.

Stella reaches out to make the letters and gift-wrap the weapons.

She pauses.

It's done.

It'll take them a few hours to sort through the confusion.

I'm shutting out all the prayers but yours now. 

You sustain me. 

Thank you.

Please comfort me for a while.

"Gladly, Goddess. I know how hard it is to take a break at times like this. I've been in similar circumstances on a much smaller scale. So I'm really proud of you for taking this break. Now let's see just how creative I can get with prayers."

She imagines a slender, pale, silver-haired girl, shaped much like the girl in the statue. Then she draws on every bit of sense memory she has of hugs to put together a thorough mental image of her, hugging that silver-haired girl tight and warm and close, fingers combing tenderly through those silver tresses. And then she prays with every drop of her heart and soul for her brave, caring, wonderful Goddess to feel that hug.

And surprising even herself, Stella is able to visualize the hug as clear as her measurements against Sable's body.

It feels warm. Soft. Gentle. Sweet.

She lingers in the sensation for a while. It feels good.

She's been a good goddess.

She's been a wonderful Goddess, and deserves every bit of hug she wants. Sable pours every bit of care and wonder and delight and affection she has into her prayer, every bit of how proud she is of Stella, how impressed she is with Stella, and how honored she is to stand at Stella's side.

It hurts, ignoring the world like this. 

But she has to. She's breaking down. She needs to take comfort where she can. 

It's only foolish to work when she can't sustain it. 

She squeezes Sable in return, moderating her titanic strength to a tender hug. 

So delicate.

She writes. 

Both of us. Ruling the whole world well is a pain in the ass. But we're doing our best. We're doing our best together. 

Thank you for caring. 

She puts in automatic lighthouses on all her various islands, kind of distractedly.