Common names:
Lynx (à la the constellation). Also called Agni, Catequil, Haokah, Hephaestus, Ishkur, Jakuta, Mamaragan, Raiden, Thoth, Vulcan.


Deity of:
Technology, electricity.


Gender:
Androgynous, for the most part. Referred to in the masculine tense when not assuming either gender, due to ancient depictions.


Godmark:
His inner throat glows blue, with the fluorescence depending on how dark a room is. Sparks dance in his mouth and across his tongue.


Appearance:
Not the best at blending in. Though his relative youth is reflected in his looks, he is more a many-cornered prism than a bandy-legged fawn. In both male and female forms, he is comprised of hard, sharp angles, with a prominent bone structure, and lacks natural grace. His movements are quick and darting, like information travelling through a telephone line (unless he is lagging). He has not mastered the art of facial expression yet, and tends to appear vacant and not all there because of this.

While his complexion is very pale, it is not pasty like the average technophile’s, but somewhat translucent, allowing various networks of veins to be seen. When not an obnoxiously bright colour, his hair is slate grey or black shot through with a Prussian blue sheen. The length varies at will, usually haphazard and unevenly cut, sometimes long enough to braid, and worn with little strings of fairy lights strung throughout. His eyes are likely to be spoon silver. Try as he may to grasp inflections, his voice remains a constant monotone.

There is normally a circuitry tattoo or two on his skin, and the ink glows and scrolls when in direct contact with something electrical. His sense of fashion has been derived from that of humans, and is therefore terrible. Think cyberpunk, complete with superfluous buckles and goggles, and metal in his face. Occasionally he opts for a lab coat and non-prescription spectacles instead; he cleans up nicely. As would bad reception, his corporeality flickers every so often.


Personality:
Simultaneously flatlining and jumping all the hell over the place. Since he is perpetually connected to electrical grids everywhere, his mind is a beehive of activity and processing that can cause him to tune out or ‘lag’, so to speak. Despite having inspired some of the greatest thinkers and inventors in history, he can come across as disconcertingly vapid. Like any computer, he is prone to errors and glitches, and one of his worst habits is neglecting to translate binary into words before he talks.

Still, he has his moments of brilliance. Scientific to the very end, life and the living fascinate him on a biological and chemical level. In his quest to stay ahead of the curve, he can be incoherent when speaking to a layman, but funnily enough communication pretty much falls under his job description. Nothing in the way of depravity surprises him. After all, he literally breathed sparks into the creation of the Internet (and he capitalises it religiously), the most expansive and vulgar cesspool available.

Obstinate, unless given good reason not to be, and painfully irresponsible, he is something of a teenager. He prefers to have things done quickly and efficiently, as his attention span can never be devoted to a singularity for long. A chronic magpie, shiny items catch his eye, and his curiosity is such that he interferes with the mundane world more than he should. He likes people, but would welcome a paradigm shift in the transhumanist direction right about now.


Calling spell:
Rumours exist pertaining to certain proxies, web addresses, and toll-free telephone numbers that allegedly connect straight to Lynx’s mainframe. However, the only tried and true (recent) method is particularly ridiculous, as if to poke fun at anybody silly enough to believe in gods in this day and age.

The spell to call the god of technology is best performed on a stormy night, when the sky is rife with lightning. All nearby sources of electricity, except for those specified, should be terminated before beginning. Do yourself a favour and do not use anything you treasure in this spell, as it is liable to spontaneously combust.

Make a circle with an unbroken line of flash powder around a television. Around and within the circumference of this circle, place eight halogen lamps. Set the sleep function on the television to turn off in eight hours, and leave it on a static channel.

Tie a house key to the string of a newspaper kite, ensuring that the string is made from the silicon of a microchip. Drop the kite into a front-loading washing machine, using motor oil in lieu of detergent, and set the cycle to: spin, hot wash, cold rinse.

While it is washing, tap out the following message in Morse code on the outside of a fax machine: ‘Lynx, faint and fleeting to the untrained eye, prevailing neither over nor under science, but in collusion with it; I charge you come.’

When the washer’s cycle stops, find the key amidst the oil and sodden paper, and load it into a dryer. Strike a piece of steel and flint together until you have some sparks going. If the halogen lamps overheat and shatter at the same time the dryer’s cycle stops, Lynx has come.

To release him, just ask, ‘Exit? Yes/no.’