Genre Gauntlet - Sci-fi/ speculative fiction

God's Game

When I sat down to complete this month’s Genre Gauntlet, it hit me just how massive a task I had set for myself. I love this genre. I read it, watch it, listen to it, and tell it. From Douglas Adams’ holistic detective, to Mr Golightly’s Holiday or Mr Pye by Mervyn Peake, The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien, Narnia by Lewis, or Harry Potter by Rowling. The ‘what if’ has always been my happy place (in books… maybe not so much in life!)

At its heart, this genre offers us a beautiful escape from reality, giving us the space to explore real-world problems without the crushing weight of the real world itself. It’s not our world we dissect, it’s another. And because of that safety net, the life lessons of heroes and villains slip into our subconscious, staying with us long after the final page is turned. Make-believe, it turns out, has a powerful pull.

Once I had my little meltdown ("What the bloody hell have I done?") and got some advice from fellow writers, I realised something important: for the sake of this exercise, all I needed to do was have fun. Create the question, build the possibility, the rest could come later.

There’s a section in C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity where he describes God as a writer, to explain how God can be within and outside of time simultaneously much like an author is present across different parts of their book. I’d also just finished reading The Creative Act and The Artist’s Way, both of which talk about creativity as a frequency you can tune into.

And that got me thinking: What if God was a writer, the universe His collection of unfinished stories and only those who still believed could find their way between them?

Luckily, I also have a stash of old notebooks filled with wild ideas. Across three of them, I found hints of the same small concept, clearly an idea that had been quietly working on me for years. I curated the notes, posed the question, and let myself play with the possibilities.

Now, this post is a little different. Instead of a polished short story like the previous Substacks, this is more of a concept; a rough sketch of how the book could unfold, followed by a piece of dialogue I found tucked away in a notebook from when I was 18 years old. (Funny how some things circle back when you least expect them.)

I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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Story idea:

Imagine the universe as a giant, magical video game but it’s designed by God, the ultimate creator, who crafts infinite worlds with different rules, magic, and life. These worlds are all connected through wormholes, rabbit holes, and wild paths of dreams and imagination.

But something’s wrong in one world Earth, aka Portal 2308. Reality is glitching. People feel heavier, sadder, and time seems... off.

Enter Jonathan a seemingly ordinary guy in a sorrow-soaked world. He’s restless, haunted by strange dreams of “falling upward.” He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s a winged being a rare soul who can shift across realities. But his wings are locked by grief, fear, and guilt. To fly, he must first forgive and lighten his heart.

Meanwhile, Gabriel, a cosmic guardian angel, watches from the realm of creation, begging God to intervene. But God says: “Trust the story. Let it unfold.”

As Earth begins to unravel, Jonathan trains in secret, guided by a mysterious mentor. He battles sorrow not with force, but with belief, healing, and hope. Eventually, he learns: wings aren’t feathers, they’re a state of being.

Jonathan unlocks his wings not by power, but by releasing pain. He flies not to escape, but to become a bridge between worlds, lighting sparks of awakening in others.

The ending? Jonathan walks among us, unnoticed but wherever he goes, tiny flickers of hope ignite in others. The cycle of creation continues.

What do you think? I would need a serious amount of research and world building for this idea to become a fully fledged story, but I think it has wings (pun intended)

Decoding Soul by Ivan Guaderrama

God’s Game (working title) – opening

There are places so vast, so unfathomably large, that measuring them in miles or light-years would be considered an act of supreme optimism.
The Creation Space was one such place, if it could be called a "place" at all, which it couldn't, not really, because it kept changing its mind about where it was, what shape it was, and whether it even believed in the concept of "up."

Somewhere or rather, in several wheres at once, two figures drifted lazily among the unfinished threads of reality.

Gabriel, whose job title was something between Assistant Director of Maintenance and Cosmic Midwife, was currently pacing across a cloud of half-formed universes, wearing the exact expression of someone who knows they're about to have to fill out very complicated paperwork.

"My Lord," he said, glancing nervously at a portal labelled 2308 (in modest gold lettering), "we really should check on Earth. It's... well. It's Earth."

God, who preferred to think of Himself more these days as a freelance narrative designer, floated comfortably in a hammock woven from raw gravitational waves. He peered over the edge with the casual detachment of a man deciding whether or not to get out of bed on a Sunday morning. "Gabriel, my son," He said, "if I worried every time one of My worlds invented trousers, politics, or a new kind of cheese, I would never get anything else done."

Gabriel frowned which, in his case, involved rearranging several thousand particles of concerned energy into a tighter spiral. "It’s been a decade for us," he insisted. "Nearly a millennium for them. Last time we left them alone that long, they accidentally set fire to half of Asia and invented three new reasons to be unhappy."

God nodded thoughtfully, "Yes. They are quite good at that."

The Creation Space rippled around them; a tapestry of possibility, stitched with half-written songs, lost dreams, and the occasional errant reality that had somehow gotten itself stuck behind the cosmic fridge.

"And besides," God added, flipping lazily onto His side, "this time... I'm playing a longer game."

"My Lord, it's just, it's just..." Gabriel trailed off, staring at the portal file, which was now spitting blue and purple sparks from its edges, "It's just such a mess down there."

Beside him, God smiled, not the stern smile of judgment, but the weary, fond smile of a craftsman long acquainted with the stubbornness of His creations. "My son," He said, "all things unfold in time. Even sorrow has its season."

Gabriel looked unconvinced and was just about to present his carefully printed and laminated five-point itinerary - complete with timetable, schedule, and color-coded reference points, when God's gaze rested on the distant world. Not with fear. But with a strange, endless tenderness. " Gabriel…If I had wished for certainty," He said quietly, "I would have given Adam the wings... and you the burden of choice."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Around them, the currents of the Creation Space swirled gently, carrying the quiet laughter and distant weeping of countless unseen worlds.