
PodCastle 106: Little Gods
Show Notes
Rated PG for the Little Gods of Hanging On
Little Gods
by Tim Pratt
“I wish I could be a little goddess of cinnamon,” my wife Emily says, closing her eyes and leaning in close to the spices. I’m used to Emily saying things like that, so I don’t take any notice, just nod and pick up a bottle of peach nectar off the shelf, slosh it around, wrinkle my nose. I know all the gunk in there is supposed to be fresh natural goodness, but to me it just looks like gunk. Emily says that I deny the truth of natural origins. Emily likes peach nectar, so I put the bottle in the basket.
“A little goddess of cinnamon,” Emily repeats. “Or brown sugar.” She crosses her arms, her silver-and-brass bracelets tinkling together.
“As opposed to a big goddess of cinnamon?” I move on down the aisle
with my basket over my arm.
“Little things get little gods,” Emily says. “It’s only natural.” She trails after me, running her finger along the shelves, pausing to sniff at the black teas, to open the lid on a jar of sugar-free gumdrops. Emily is always prodding, smelling, caressing — she says that she is experiencing the world.
“So big gods are for big things, then? Like, say, whales?”
Emily sighs behind me. “Big things like . . . I don’t know . . . love.”