Short fiction

The GodStuff or Even Things God Might Not Believe: a story of sorts by: GF Willmetts.

Being godstuff is a lot of hard work. You think running a small country, by my standards of size, by dictatorship is easy has never thought of how difficult it is to run a whole universe where people expect you to be everywhere at once and at their beck and call with a little prayer. Then they expect free will as if it’s a bonus when really it’s to reduce my workload. You should be allowed to think for yourselves.

I’m supposed to be all over the place. I make quantum binding work. I make the fabled Santa Claus and his other festive equivalents, who only runs around one evening of the year, look like a slowcoach in comparison. Free will is free. It doesn’t cost me anything. If I cared for everything then I’d be the ultimate safety blanket. Which I am, I guess in some ways but I have plenty of other things to do.

I’m supposed to be in everything but really I have to delegate a little. Well, a lot really. Provide some science to keep the cogs of the universe turning and every sentient species spends its time understanding what makes them tick. It keeps them busy and I learn as well. Just because I make the cogs turn over doesn’t mean I have to be intimate with them or know the mechanics. I just order it done and it’s there and it works. I’m omnipresent. I watch and see everything, I can do everything, I don’t have make everything work beyond what I set in motion. I’m a natural force. You’ve met some of my bedfellows like the nuclear weak and strong forces, electro-magnetic and the elusive gravity which no one can figure out.

I have enough time being blamed or making miracles depending on who’s perspective they are seen to act on. Just say no to human or other sentient species sacrifice. What am I supposed to do with a lost life or burnt remains of something I’m supposed to have created in the first place? I create life for living not for dying. Life for the short-lived is short enough as it is. Yet many people don’t think life is worth living but at least most don’t blame me for that.

Some think there’s a heaven as if there’s a depository for souls but that’s far too complicated. People think in their terms, not in mine. How can anyone out think a god when they have no experience of being one? Well, except for a few crazy few who think they are anyone they choose to be and then choose me. I bet deep down in their hearts, they’re glad I’m benevolent.

That’s another thing. I get accused of doing bad as well as good things and even if I don’t do either I’m still thought of as the big scary god out to take retribution for whichever side called me up for help and who I didn’t help. Who wants to be a monotheist when I can create pantheons of gods to keep everyone happy. My name could be legion but really I don’t have a personal name, I’m just godstuff. It should be enough for people to know I’m out there. Shows how many people really know me or what I am. You suppose I’m rambling now but many things require a second or many other looks.

How was I born I can hear you ask. I’m the universe. I grew with it. Somewhere after the light, here I was. Godstuff. Not sure if that’s being god or not. I think, therefore I am, especially all over the place. The universe is big and sentience rules. I give some personal attention to everywhere, more so where there is life. At least it allows me to pick up on the local gossip. I give free will and see it taken away by others. Often in my name. Again, I ask you. Do I ask for such things? I give life but it all has a natural cycle.

I’m seen as a multi-function device. Called upon from religion to sex. Would they really want me watching at the latter? You have to rely on am I really needed and can’t you sort out your problems for yourself?

So I’m seen as some sort of supervisor who turns away when I’m not supposed to see something. You can’t have it both ways so why have it in anyway? I’m a busy force in action who can actually think. How would that look in the text books.

You do have to wonder who determined I was omnipresent? It couldn’t have been me and there’s no one ask out there as powerful as me. It just goes to show how some species think what they would be like if they were in my position. Often it tends to come from a species early in their development and can barely see beyond their star system and still to develop an understanding of basic scientific concepts like distance…long distance…really long galactic…universe distance. The sort that makes the universe enormous and teeming with galaxies.

No doubt the same cultures who think I must be some sort of fuddy-duddy to throw an angel out of heaven into hell for bad behaviour as if I couldn’t keep offspring under control. It isn’t as though I couldn’t advocate free will, just confining it to particular planets. Then again, why would I need angels? I’m supposed to be everywhere not have winged creatures at my beck and call.

Thinking of me as if I would create people in my own image is equally contradictory. According to some, I’m supposed to be immortal and invisible. Neither or both traits amongst others that can be attributed to any other species.

What will they want me to do next? Get them across the galaxy quickly? To go where? A hope of some place different to their own planet? When they get there, it’ll look so close to home that they’ll homesick and want to go home. No place better than home habitat. If they want a travel firm, hire them, I’m godstuff, that’s not my job.

You do really have to ask yourself who I’m speaking to here. I’m godstuff, top of the pile, setting the record straight. I have no contemporaries let alone something like a psychologist to unburden myself to. After all, I’m supposed to be perfect and who’s out there to tell me otherwise? I’m just talking to myself and you’ve eavesdropping. After all, for many, I can’t possibly exist. Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t be everywhere at once. Afterall, we are all godstuff with maybe a little badstuff to make us less than perfect. How more natural can I be?

end although there was still light


© GF Willmetts 2021

All rights reserved

Ask before borrowing

No godstuff was hurt in my little ramble.


Please be aware, the nature of this story of sorts is not an attack on any religion on Earth or off-planet. It was just a thought on how would I write a story if I was supposed to be an omnipresent god if he was grumbling and had no one to talk to. The story then sort of rambled away.


Geoff Willmetts has been editor at SFCrowsnest for some 21 plus years now, showing a versatility and knowledge in not only Science Fiction, but also the sciences and arts, all of which has been displayed here through editorials, reviews, articles and stories. With the latter, he has been running a short story series under the title of ‘Psi-Kicks’ If you want to contribute to SFCrowsnest, read the guidelines and show him what you can do. If it isn’t usable, he spends as much time telling you what the problems is as he would with material he accepts. This is largely how he got called an Uncle, as in Dutch Uncle. He’s not actually Dutch but hails from the west country in the UK.

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