Discover “Slow Gods” by Claire North – July’s highlight in the New Scientist Book Club
Join us as we delve into the powerful story of the supernova phenomenon known as Lonoha. Witness the destruction of planets, the collapse of civilizations, and engage in thought-provoking conversations with entities often seen as gods, challenging our understanding of their roles in the cosmos.
To begin this journey, we must retrace my origins, which takes us back to Glastia Row, centuries ago.
Glastia Law emerged as a pivotal landing zone on the planet Tumdo, one of the most promising candidates for terraforming.
The conditions on Tumdo were ideal: comfortable gravity, robust magnetic shielding, moderate temperature, and ample water supply. The first settlers on Tumdo didn’t endure five centuries in Arcology; they quickly adapted and began to breathe freely within generations. Fast forward two millennia, and Glastia Row evolved from a fledgling outpost into a thriving borough of Heom, the heart of the interplanetary United Social Venture, home to millions.
It’s often said that a venture’s essence can be gleaned from the names their employees give their children.
In Antequeda, the venture managing my city, the most common middle names at birth included:
Chairman – 15%
Entrepreneur – 10%
Director – 9%
Abundance – 5%
Diligence – 4%
Contrastingly, in Theymann, known for deep space habitation, names leaned towards pioneers and engineers, while in Halsect, a sentimental approach favored names like “Aspiring.”
My parents embodied the ambition expected from Glastia Row’s inhabitants, yet they maintained a pragmatic outlook. Therefore, my birth name was registered as Maukana “Respected” Na Vdnadze. While I may not achieve extraordinary feats, at the very least, my community would recognize me as respectable.
However, my journey took a downward turn swiftly.
Upon my birth, it was said I cried in an “unholy” manner, though the precise meaning of “unholy” remained elusive. The intensity of my cries presumably increased when a chint was implanted into my left bicep, symbolizing the debt incurred from my standard birth—400 glints, plus an additional 1,873 glints for essential postnatal care.
Thus, even before resting in my mother’s arms, I was marked with the most crucial aspect of my life on Grastier Row: my debt.
True to their namesake “Respect,” my parents were financially prudent. They managed to reduce my initial debt to just 700 Glints, enabling me to maintain manageable child interest payments of 1.5%. Furthermore, Antequeda awarded me 50 shares, which marked my status as a citizen of the venture. By the age of 15, those shares had appreciated to nearly 600 Glints, yet my educational debts were disproportionately high at over 92,000 Glints.
We were conditioned to believe this system was equitable. As pioneers, we inhabited a world rife with challenges, where every provision—from the air we inhaled to the paths we traversed—was earned through hard work and sacrifice. Our debts represented our commitment to give back.
The belief that all individuals were created equal and could ascend through diligence was the foundation of the United Social Venture, termed “sparkle.”
Our family wasn’t particularly “high shine.” My parents owned a quaint restaurant, serving cold dumplings to overworked middle managers. Despite their efforts to elevate our shine, they couldn’t shake off the scent of grease and toil. Periodically, Antequeda would send a representative to offer business courses or long-distance diplomas, and my mother often enrolled, hopeful for change. Yet, no significant progress ever materialized.
In my formative years, from ages 7 to 11, I worked in a store, hoping for that miraculous reward: a “tip.” By 12, I recognized impending adulthood. My father’s thick, dark hair contrasted with my mother’s sun-kissed complexion. I was on the shorter side, often squinting in confusion, trying to master the art of smiling.
My mother would instruct, “Smile with your eyes.” Hence, I’d practice before the grimy bathroom mirror, desperately attempting to convey warmth.
Despite these best efforts, I found myself relegated to the kitchen, allowing my mother to charm patrons with her charisma. By the time I turned 14, tuition became exorbitantly expensive, and the future looked bleak. Many classmates opted for menial jobs integral to our ventures, while those remaining prepared for adulthood amidst fierce competition, treachery, and ruthless antics. Bullies prevailed unless caught—being discovered was a graver offense than theft or deceit.
Economists observing Schein often express surprise at the low educational levels faced by its residents. Other circular economies, thriving on innovative technologies, regard education as paramount for success and a source of public engagement.
Yet education breeds curiosity, a trait leaders within Shine aim to suppress.
This excerpt is from Slow Gods by Claire North (Orbit)—featured in the New Scientist Book Club’s July recommendations. Sign up for the book club and join the discussion on Discord here.
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Source: www.newscientist.com