When the gods planned the universes, they said, Let’s make this one big and put tiny things in it. They’ll feel lost, and worship us. But someone pointed out the tiny things might just as easily resent being made so much smaller than the universe and thus worship it instead. So the gods decided to put little universes in all the black holes to see who they would worship. But since the black holes were singularities, nothing went as planned in any of them, not even responses to commandments and threats. Then the gods had to pin all their hopes on the big universe where butterflies and dark matter were in equilibrium with chaos and hurricanes. Everything was still and quiet in the eyes of hurricanes, which so fascinated the gods, especially younger ones. They sent the storms again and again, skipping them like stones against continents where they always sputtered and died. While they lasted the hurricanes also looked like black holes, spinning, glittering, so strange and calm inside. Then, too, there was the tinny sound of little voices praying hardest when the hurricanes struck— they were not worshiping, exactly, but it was the closest thing to worship the gods had heard and it would have to do for now.
—David Rogers Star*Line, Summer 2020
