Governance of Gods
- realityskimming
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
by Jennifer Lott
About the Story Thing (2025) - 06
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"Things About Governance" is a thematic series of articles, sponsored by Reality Skimming Press. Pieces in the series run from Jan-June 2026. Query us about contributing for $25 CAD a post at https://facebook.com/relskim or by email at info@realityskimming.com
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Isn’t it reassuring to know that disagreements between leaders can’t lead to ten separate planets run in ten extreme ways? Maybe not, because at least in my fantasy universe there are multiple planets to flee to if one is destroyed. Oh, to have that luxury in real life (not that we deserve it).
While a lot of dystopian fiction features a paradise façade with an ugly underbelly, I started mine with the premise that ten godly teenagers succeed in creating a paradise planet. A true haven for Earth’s downtrodden mortals. Population: one hundred million. Murders per century: two. Ten gods and goddesses co-rule this miracle, and while they do, it lives up to their shared vision.
The trouble is that even rulers with a communal cause cannot forgo their individual dreams indefinitely. They split up. On a planet under his sole control, the god who sheltered mortals ramps up an ecological disaster faster than Earth. How could he not when treehouses are the only protected nature? The goddess who provided clothing reduces her planet’s inhabitants to beauty scores. The goddess who empowered women creates a planet where males are enslaved down to the youngest child. Turns out there’s a wide margin for error without the balance of ten different sets of ideals.
Absolute power corrupts? Or, since they’re gods, eternal life erodes?
I was nineteen when I first started cooking up this story. More of an optimist back then, I gave some deities the chance to evolve in a positive direction. However, as far as the mortal characters are concerned, the gods are tyrants. People are either lucky enough to be under the thumb of a decent tyrant making reasonable efforts to care for them, or they’re stuck in a deadly struggle under the thumb of the more common type.
For the tyrants themselves, the sad irony is that they escaped the horrors of Earth only to find themselves reaching for new ones. A near-perfect planet brings about a complacency where it is forgotten that ending war and suffering is the achieved goal. Rather, the restless gods internalize criticisms from the mortals who have lived peacefully for too long to know what alternatives look like. The magical fruits that fill every belly lack variety. The god who ended hunger wants to rip the planet apart, so his obsession over new flavours can take priority.
Everyone learns the hard way that accepting less than perfection is necessary to avoid dystopia. I spare my mortal characters the burden of being directly involved in the choice to separate the gods. It is far more horrifying when suffering people in the real world are persuaded to push against their own interests. Nazis and Maga find the cracks in society and promise prosperity. They shine a spotlight on fabricated triumphs, while throwing factual atrocities into shadow. Planet rulers in my universe are quick to abandon the give and take of their joint political system. When they were ten minds ruling one world, their decisions had to be unanimous to pass. Freed from that constraint, some follow whims as idiotic and merciless as those of the orange clown in the white house.
Luckily, in fiction, there are magical consequences. On the male enslavement planet, the goddess is so unreceptive to the concept of male heroism that the rocky region where a man died to save others becomes a place she literally can’t see. This is an advantage for the resistance – a location where mortals can break unjust laws without scrutiny.
Personally, I build broken governments to watch compassionate people rise and fight back. This is especially important now, when it’s a bit late for cautionary tales. The last thing we need is apathy. The mighty pen probably doesn’t feel so much stronger than the bomb right now. I feel that frustration whenever I go to my happy place in a story and realize I’m blocking out the world’s pain. Even when it’s pure escape, what art can do is open hearts and minds. We keep thinking. We keep kicking at that darkness.
Recently, an American literary agent on one of my favourite podcasts said “thank you, funny people” to express her appreciation for writers who make her laugh despite the world today. I appreciated that sentiment so much. I don’t have social justice on the front burner when I write my series about mad gods and goddesses. It creeps in organically, because my characters must face entertaining conflicts.
Maybe the worse the world is the less we want corruption in our fictional governments.
Do we risk descending deeper into apathy when fiction says, ‘you’re right, things are that bad’? Or does art have a duty to hold a mirror up to harmful leadership whether it hits too close to home or not? I’d argue there are ways to portray both light and dark in any work. Our comedians certainly pull it off: we laugh and we cringe. The answer for me is a saga that may take my lifetime to complete. There are just that many ways for the governance of gods to go wrong.
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Links for Author Jennifer Lott
Wilzerlott Podcast - https://www.buzzsprout.com/1911976
Author's Website - https://jenniferlott.com/
Published Works - https://jenniferlott.com/published-works/
Alternate Ending of Animorphs - https://www.buzzsprout.com/1911976
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