Slow Gods by Claire North: July’s Pick for the New Scientist Book Club
Welcome to the captivating world of *Slow Gods*, where the cosmic supernova Lonoha unfolds a tale of destruction and divine encounters, challenging perceptions of godliness itself.
Before diving into this epic saga, let me take you back to the origins of my existence—a journey that starts in Glastia Row centuries ago.
Initially known as a landing zone on the planet Tumdo, Glastia Law transformed from a mere outpost into a thriving urban environment.
With optimal conditions for terraforming, including balanced gravity and adequate water supply, Tumdo quickly evolved to support human life. Early settlers thrived without the lengthy wait in Arcology, and within generations, breathed freely. Fast forward two millennia, and Glastir Row became a bustling borough within Heom, the heart of innovation in the interplanetary United Social Venture.
It is often said that one can gauge a venture’s character by the names given to its members’ offspring.
For example, in Antequeda, the venture that governed my home, the most popular middle names included:
Chairman – 15%
Entrepreneur – 10%
Director – 9%
Abundance – 5%
Diligence – 4%
In contrast, Theymann, a venture focused on deep space habitation, favored names linked to exploration, while Halsect nostalgically embraced “Aspiring” as a middle name.
Reflecting my parents’ ambition tempered by realism, I was named Maukana “Respected” Na Vdnadze—a reminder to my neighbors of my respectability, even if I never soared to greatness.
Things, however, did not go as planned.
Upon my birth, I emitted what some described as “unholy” cries; a term still debated. My loudest wails may have followed the embedding of a chint on my bicep—a tangible reminder of my debt to Antequeda for the hefty cost of my birth and subsequent needs.
Before I even held my mother’s embrace, I was marked with a financial obligation of 2,273 glints, a weight only lifted to a manageable 700 glints thanks to my parents’ careful planning.
As a welcome gift, Antequeda bestowed upon me 50 shares, marking my citizenry in this venture. However, as I turned 15, my educational debts ballooned to over 92,000 glints, introducing the harsh realities of our system.
We were informed that our struggles were justified within the framework of fairness—a principle echoed throughout the United Social Venture’s beliefs.
In our striving society, every individual was seen as equal, their ascendance determined by effort.
This ethos of ‘sparkle’ characterized our lives and status.
Unfortunately, my family did not shine brightly. My parents operated a small eatery offering cold dumplings to busy professionals. Despite their attempts to better our situation through courses and networking, the smell of our less-than-luxurious kitchen clung to us.
During my childhood, spanning ages 7 to 11, I clung to the hope of receiving a “tip” in my brief stint as a waiter. But by 12, reality dawned—the future seemed bleak.
Trouble was brewing among my peers, many dropping out to engage in the grim labor essential to all ventures. Those remaining prepared for a world filled with petty rivalries and ruthless competition.
Economic observers noted a disturbing trend: the of lack education among residents in Schein, contrasting with other global circular economies prioritizing education and curiosity.
Alas, curiosity is often the first trait leaders in the ‘Shine’ strive to suppress.
This excerpt is from Slow Gods by Claire North (Orbit), a selection from the New Scientist Book Club’s picks for July. Join the book club discussion on Discord here.
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Source: www.newscientist.com
