A Study In Anatomy

VII. Field Studies

The original Zeus Club had been a small saloon back in the earliest days of Seneca City. Like most such establishments, it was for males only, and even then, it had a reputation as a den for "degenerates." When prohibition forced the club to close, some of the city's elites cheered. A reputable developer purchased the surrounding property, and a new dance hall and restaurant soon opened under the name, "The Menagerie". However, a hidden speakeasy in the basement continued to be called the Zeus Club.

Now open to all genders, the Menagerie became wildly successful, even as the old saloon's reputation for debauchery quickly reemerged. The government tried to crack down on the Menagerie's prohibition violations many times, but the club always managed to stay open. As a result, a popular and persistent rumor began to circulate that the mysterious owner of the property, "Ganymede," was none other than John Seneca himself – the country's wealthiest zetamorph, and then-mayor of the city that now bore his name.

By the time prohibition ended, and the war was in full swing, the Menagerie had formally embraced its lecherous reputation and rebranded as Zeus' Menagerie. By then, the club had been expanded to include a hotel on its upper floors. It was an open secret that the hotel doubled as a brothel, and that "private time" with many of the Menagerie's employees – both zeta and human – could be purchased.

As public decency laws forbidding human-zeta fraternization became stronger, Ganymede not only refused to enforce them – he openly encouraged members to flaunt those laws. In the 1940s, a series of salacious pictures of zetas and humans provocatively dancing with each other at the club were infamously printed in several local papers, along with reports of certain activities taking place on the upper floors. This resulted in renewed public fervor to shut the place down, which continued off and on through the century. Though these efforts were occasionally successful, like a weed, the Menagerie always returned and remained a popular destination until the Eighties, when a new moral panic about zetasexuals began to consume the nation.

Now known as Zeus' Menagerie, the club had fallen on somewhat hard times, but it still served a unique function – the only night club in the country where zeta-human intimacy wasn't just tolerated, but encouraged. And like thousands before him, that was what drew Miles.

Miles wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The industrial, red brick facade of the old warehouse was still prominent, but it had been supplemented in its most recent renovation with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, steel accents, and an addition to the second floor that included an outdoor bar and pool. There were grecian columns flanking the entryway, and through the largest of the windows, centered above the main entrance, Miles could see a statue of the club's namesake, a reproduction of one of the seven ancient wonders of the world.

The statue of Zeus filled the entire vertical space of the three-story club and was visible as Miles walked up the street. Carved from marble, the god sat on his elegant throne, wearing a silver crown and carrying a sphere in one hand, and a scepter in the other. And though his lower body was clad in robes painted in many colors, his upper body was bare, exposing the kind of physique one would expect from a deity.

Miles had seen pictures of it the night before, but it was still a surreal piece of art to see in person, if only because of size. What stood out most to the human, however, was the god's imperious expression. Unlike most modern religious figures he'd seen, this god didn't appear to be looking on in judgment. Instead, Zeus' expression was one of calm control and confident power. "This is my domain," he seemed to be saying, "Friends: be welcome. Enemies: beware."

Late on a Saturday night, the sidewalks were crowded. Miles was disappointed to see that there weren't many humans around. Most he saw were with large groups of zetamorphs, who seemed to crowd around them protectively. He got a nervous feeling while watching some of those groups. The humans seemed to be enjoying themselves, but the body language of the zetas reminded Miles of the way animals in nature documentaries guarded their kills. Other zetas who got too close often got warning glares. Twice, he saw things escalate beyond warnings.