Egypt

It was a young man, a peasant, traces of the black mud still clinging to his well- scrubbed calves, who first objected. They were used to old, drained men and women who bowed low in relief, or children, or new mothers crying quietly, so perhaps that had something to do with it; but still, they'd seen plenty of young men before. Whatever the priests said about the gods keeping track, it was all nonsense, really; they were busy people, well, sort of busy and sort of people, and the hearts were all they needed in the end. So whatever spark burned in the young man still, the circumstances that fanned it were a mystery to them.

Actually, Anubis (who rarely bothered to hide his caprice) rather liked the young man's face at first impression, so had palmed the usual feather and brought out Feather Three, the one with little copper weights glued underneath, and rested a claw on the scale - for good measure.

So the young man was saved. However, he didn't scuttle off like the rest, but turned and said "I've a question, if I may."

"Ask away," slurred Anubis through his dog-teeth.

"We can feel if our hearts are heavy, while we live, so I shan't argue about the mechanics of the thing."

"Well, yes, perhaps you shouldn't argue with your gods."

"But some people weigh down their hearts with guilt, over the smallest transgression. And I'd bet - well, I know - that some cruel tyrants hold nothing in their hearts. Don't you ever think that's not completely fair?"

Anubis could not be seen to hesitate, so he strode over to Thoth, bookish but bird-brained, and pretended to consult with him while the Devourer growled and grumbled and clanked its chains.

After a while, he answered.

"This man you pity - he knows better. This tyrant - he does not. We never said we judged deeds, only hearts."

"So, really, you judge weakness or strength."

"Look. What good would it do, to react to something as trifling as the magnitude of a deed? It would simply make the weak, as you say, feel better - give them a scrap of something to clutch to themselves as they carry on in the mud as always."

"So... why punish anyone?"

"That's just it. We do not punish. We're simply rid of anyone with whom we could not bear to share eternity. Wouldn't you rather breakfast with a hundred tyrants than your pitiable melancholic?" At the thought of breakfast, Anubis' stomach growled in an ungodly way. "You are bothering me, peasant. Go and find... your family, or beer, or whatever it is you like."

But that was how doubt first entered the gods' minds. It is hard for the introspective sort to stay sane, and none of this lot, after learning introspection, managed it. So, like pantheons long before and thereafter, they stopped sending visions and spiritual experiences, allowed some upstarts to fill the gap, and eventually faded away.

And this is why one ought to take one's own advice.