Theodore Sturgeon: "A God in the Garden"

Theodore Sturgeon
"A God in the Garden"
in The Ultimate Egoist:
Volume 1: The Complete Short Stories of Theodore Sturgeon


This tale strikes me as a variant of the Midas Touch.  What appears to be good at first glance proves ultimately to be a curse.

Kenneth digs furiously in his garden, working on a lily pond.  His ferocity comes from a recent flareup between him and his wife.  She suspects he is lying to her.  Unfortunately she is right, once again.  He is an inveterate liar, whether it benefits him or not.  It's just the way he is and she refuses to accept that.

Digging deeper he comes across a huge rock, and he calls a friend who has the necessary equipment to remove it from the hole.  Once on the surface he realizes that it isn't just a rock, but a carved rock!


"Yes, it was an idol, that brown mass in the half-finished lily pool.  And what a face!  Hideous--and yet, was it?  There was a certain tongue-in-cheek quality about it, a grim and likable humor.  The planes of that face were craggy and aristocratic, and there was that about the cure of the nostril and the heavily lidded eyes that told Kenneth that he was looking at a realistic conception of a superiority complex.  And yet--again, was it?  Those heavy eyelids--each, it seemed, had been closed in the middle of a sly wink at some huge and subtle joke.  And the deep lines around the mouth wee the lines of authority, but also the lines of laughter.  It was the face of a very old little boy caught stealing jam, and it was also the face of a being who might have the power to stop the sun."



Kenneth is overjoyed.  He had been looking for a statue to set off his garden and this seemed perfect.  With help he sets the statue upright in a prominent place, overlooking his garden.  It is then that Kenneth realizes that he  has found something much more than he expected.  The statue talks to him.


"'I"m a god,' said the idol.  'Name's 'Rakna.  What's yours?'"


After demonstrating his powers, much to Kenneth's discomfort,  Rakna relents.

"'Look, Kenneth, I've been a little hard  on you.  After all, you did give me a comfortable place to sit.  Anything I could do for you?'"

Kenneth says that all is well, except that, well, there's this little problem with his wife and lying.   The god's first offer to help is simple:  he will "adjust" Kenneth so that he only tells the truth whenever he is asked a question.   Kenneth cringes at that suggestion, especially when he thinks about being asked what he really thinks about his boss and having to answer truthfully.   The god suggests another solution:  whatever Kenneth answers will be the truth, for the god will make it so.

The god points to a chain on the ground and asks Kenneth to say it is in the shed when he is asked.  Kenneth does so and the chain disappears.  It is in the shed.   Kenneth, a skeptic, is confused:  is he crazy or hallucinating?   He goes into the house and discovers she is preparing turnips for dinner.  He doesn't like turnips and frowns slightly.  His wife remembers and says that she forgot.

"'Don't be silly.'  he lied gallantly. 'I love 'em.'  No sooner had he said the words than the lowly turnips seemed to take on a glamour, a gustatory perfection.  His mouth watered for them, his being cried out for them--turnips were the most delicious, the most nourishing and delightful food ever to be set on a man's table.  He loved them."

Kenneth is now a believer.

At first it's party time.  Kenneth tells his wife that there's $20,000 in their checking account, and it''s true.  But then . . .

Think about it--suppose everything you said became the truth.   Someone wonders how an incredibly rich person became so wealthy, and you cynically replied that that person must have stolen it.  Regardless of the real situation, that person was now a thief.   Or, someone asks you whatever happened to so-and-so, and you replied, "Oh, he or she probably died long ago."  Well, once you said that, it had to be true.

It seems to me to be a frightful gift.