When he looked up, the Citizen found that he was surrounded by three sacred ones, each around 10 feet tall. To his right was the gold-laden goddess Lakshmi, to his left was the warrior prince Rama and directly in front stood the looming figure of the elephantine Ganesha. Three of the Republic's most loved deities. The sacred ones. The useful ones.

Lakshmi's blessing, it was rumoured, could alter the state of one's credit, increasing the odds of profit and making customers easier to come by on the web. Ganesha was the one you spoke to if you had real-world troubles. His benefaction could help the legal system go easier on you and even, it was said, help applicants a job in the departments.

Rama, the hero of the Ramayana, was more of a one-size-fits-all deity. They said the blue one could directly influence one's chances in the Sangh -- the hierarchy of power that governed the Republic. It wasn't for no reason that every district office had an entire wall devoted to that seminal photograph from 2031 -- a 33-member cabinet bowing to a 50-foot statue of the king of Ayodhya.

The Citizen smiled at Lakshmi, testing to see if he triggered a response. Lakshmi raised a hand in blessing and offered, "Speak your heart Aryaputra!"

"Not today goddess," he whispered to himself, speaking the cheat code over and over in his mind. Because of the thorough nature of the temple's scanners, he had had to memorise the entire thing. Of course, pronouncing it just right was only half the trick. He turned to Ganesha and looked him straight in the eyes as soon as he was sure he had it.

tyaktvā karma-phalāsaṅgaṁ nitya-tṛipto nirāśhrayaḥ
karmaṇyabhipravṛitto 'pi naiva kiñchit karoti saḥ

The gods froze, but while Rama and Lakshmi began to flicker and fade, Ganesha merely stopped smiling. His head tilted to one side, as if disapproving. The Citizen, who was used to divine disapproval for more than one lifestyle-related reason, waited patiently for the program to engage the hidden sub-routine he had just triggered.

A moment later, Ganesha spoke, but his friendly tone had been replaced with an accent that the Citizen could only describe as broadly videshi, "Where to, stranger?"

Relieved that the cheat code had worked, the Citizen ran a quick check to make sure the temple was not logging his actions anymore.

"Identify!"

"You are the impossible girl," Ganesha replied, much to the Citizen's satisfaction. The interface for the backdoor had been cobbled together from the remains of an interactive game declared illegal 16 years ago, shortly after the Dharmic Amendements of 2031.

"All of time and space. Every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?"

"Access Mahabharata," the Citizen said. "Take me to Kurukshetra, before the war. I want to see Him in Chapter eleven."

When he reached out and took Ganesha's outstretched hand, the Citizen felt a mild tug, a gentle pull generated by manipulation of the chamber's fluid inner shell made of millions of microscopic building blocks -- the walls and the floor conspiring to create the illusion of weightlessness and movement just as they made Ganesha's hand feel solid to the Citizen's touch.

The strum of a single sitar string reverberated in space as a black hole surrounded by miniature Oms opened up above them. The floating sub-continent broke up into pieces and fell part by part into the singularity. Ganesha followed, pulling the Citizen in after him. Inside, as the Citizen stared at the watery walls of the tunnel that surrounded him with childlike wonder, Ganesha spoke with urgency, "This is the weird bit Clara! Hold tight! And unless you're weary of the space-time variety of existence, don't touch those walls."

The Citizen reached out and touched the watery wall. Sparks flew, they tumbled and smashed into the other side of the tunnel while continuing to fly through it. Ganesha instantly grew to twice his original size and pulled the Citizen close, protecting him with a bear hug. After whirling about for a couple of seconds, the elephant god's line of flight regained stability. He looked the Citizen in the eyes and said hoarsely, "What is it with you humans?"

The Citizen thought this was way more fun than what one should be allowed to have on a mission of this seriousness and decided to stop wasting time. The old man would not approve.

When they emerged at the other end of the black hole, the whoosh of the space tunnel gave way to a silence that slammed into the Citizen's ears. The chamber generated a blast of air from underneath as Ganesha hurtled towards the ground with him in his arms. The landing, in defiance of physics but understandable for UX reasons, was gentle even though the ground cracked quite visibly -- and with a thunderous sound -- under the impact of the 20-foot Ganesha.

Their arrival didn't go unnoticed of course. There was neighing and the sound of clattering hooves as a couple of horses broke free and made a run for it. Ganesha chuckled. The Citizen took a long look at the two armies on either side of him before he turned his attention to what lay directly ahead -- the giant cosmic form of Krishna, standing in the middle of the silent battlefield, tall as a skyscraper, speaking to the Pandava prince Arjuna about the nature of the universe in a voice made of many voices. Above Krishna's head, the likeness of a spiral galaxy spun gently, illuminating the many faces on his many heads, and his many arms holding many objects.