While vacationing on the Greek island of Thira, Bacchus chances upon a couple of old friends from Atlantis. One of them currently runs a bookstore containing much of the Atlantean knowledge of old. Well, he did. Then Bacchus unintentionally burns it down (darn cigarettes).
Bacchus and his new-found followers debate the composition of human life. Is it DNA, or divine intervention? Bacchus manages to reconcile the two concepts, with his own unique twist. He is the Greek god of revelry, after all.
When his dilletante followers begin to gripe that Bacchus has been wasting their time, he decides to pull that ol' black magic out of his hat. That night, the island is home to a good old-fashioned Bacchanal. The complainers might be getting more than they bargained for.