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Hey, everybody, it's Will, and it's story time. We had a creative all hands on deck meeting last week to talk about where we are, where we've been, and where we're going. It's all good news, you guys. The audience continues to grow. As of last week, we were averaging 50,000 downloads per episode. That is just remarkable. I cannot even tell you how much that means to me, but I'll try. I want to do this for the rest of my career. I want to do this until I retire. I love being in this booth, bringing these stories to life and sharing them with you. It is such a privilege. And I feel like I'm doing good work. That matters, and that really, really matters to the artist in me. I wanted to take a moment and really celebrate that there are all these new listeners, so many new listeners. Like back when we did our test season to sort of work out our bugs and figure out how this was going to work. I was beside myself when we had like 10,000 downloads. I couldn't believe it. That was amazing. That's like filling up an arena almost with people who wanted to listen to me tell you a story. It's so cool. You know, the whole goal of this podcast is to elevate authors and celebrate art. It is to remind the world that mid list speculative fiction magazines and authors and anthologies and publishers exist. And they are vital to the storytelling economy, both the economic economy and the creative economy. I'm a tiny, tiny, tiny part of that right now. I'm just sort of like up to about my knees in that lake of that world. But I'm just gonna like take a few steps deeper into the water today and actually go back to the very beginning and share with you, especially you, like new listeners, a story you may have missed last year. This is such a gorgeous, sweet story. I loved reading it. I loved narrating it. It's one of the few things I've done that I actually enjoy listening to because it puts me in a place that feels good and feels safe, a place where I can restore some hit points and some mana. And I hope it does the same thing for you. This is one of the first stories we ever did and I absolutely love is called the God of Minor Troubles. Take it away me from about 11 months ago. The God of Minor Troubles By Megan Chi Many eons ago, when the first dawn broke over the newborn mortal world, the children of the heavenly Realm assembled the Golden Sky Palace. They knelt before the Immortal Emperor, their foreheads pressed respectfully to the floor. One by one, he bid them rise and approach the throne to receive their mandates of duty. Jun Li, the third son, was appointed God of the Hunt. Su Yin, the eighth daughter, was named Goddess of Scholars, and so on and so forth. Each new God and goddess leapt from the palace windows to fly down to the mortal world, their silk robes and long hair fluttering in the wind. Tuning, the 44th son of heaven, wasn't there. He was late in the ages to come. He would blame his tardiness on a variety of circumstances quite out of his control. The wind, he would argue, was unseasonably gusty and insisted on blowing in a contrary direction. The distance to the Golden sky palace seemed atypically stretched out that day, no doubt some mischief played by the spirits who were hard at work weaving the fabric of the young mortal world. Deep down, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had been on the moon when he received the summons, dozing beside one of the shallow pools of liquid silver that dotted the moon's surface. The Heavenly Rabbit who had been sent to summon him thumped its hind legs to get his attention. Lord Juning, your presence is required in the Golden Sky Palace. The Immortal Emperor himself commands it. Very well, tuning said, cracking an eye open. I will be on my way shortly. In five minutes. It was so tranquil here, lounging by a silver pool beneath a star frosted sky. He would just rest his eyes for five more minutes. What difference could Five minutes make an hour later, he was hurtling through the sky in a panic. After what felt like an eternity, the Golden sky palace finally came into view. It was a grand pagoda perched on a curling cloud, the entire structure bobbing gently in the wind. His sister, Huymin, the 51st daughter of heaven, stepped out of the door and floated toward him. As he approached, she shook her head disapprovingly. You've missed the ceremony. You'd best go in and make your apologies to the Emperor. Good luck, brother, and goodbye. He stopped short. Goodbye. The Emperor has named me the Goddess Lonely Places. She smiled shyly. It is what I hoped for. I will go to the silent caverns and the snow capped mountaintops and the underground rivers. As humankind grows and spreads across the world, I will linger in the lonely places and watch over them. I think our paths will not cross again soon. Oh, jining said, feeling an odd twist in his chest. Then farewell, sister. He landed on the front step of the pagoda, nervously tugged his robe straight, and entered the palace. He immediately dropped to his knees and kowtowed on the ground before the daisy. He dared not look up into the Emperor's face and instead stared at his magnificent white beard. The Emperor's voice was so deep that Juning could feel its rumbling resonance through the floor. Juning, the 44th son of heaven, who answered late my summons. A smidge late, jining mumbled. I appoint you the God of Minor Troubles. There was a pause. Minor troubles? Jining asked. Minor troubles, the Immortal Emperor confirmed. May I beg your Immortal Highness for a more specific definition of minor troubles? If Jining didn't know any better, he would say there was a note of amusement in the Emperor's thunderclap voice. A soldier on the eve of battle will pray to the God of Warriors for strength and courage. A student preparing for an examination will pray to the God of Scholars for sharpness of mind. And an unfortunate mortal who finds a hole in their favorite shirt will utter a prayer to you. Is that clarity enough? Jining swallowed. Your Immortal Highness, I truly apologize for the offense I gave with my lateness. This is no punishment, Juning. It may seem trivial to immortals like you and I, but mortals live for only a flicker before they are gone. These minor troubles will feel very real to them, at least for a moment. And in these moments of vexation, they will call to you. Now go forth and listen. The first couple of millennia weren't too bad. Back in the infancy of civilization, mortal lives were short and brutal. There was nothing minor about their troubles. Then they prayed for mercy to greater gods as they ran screaming from wild animals, shivered in caves, and died of horrible diseases. Tuning was free to indulge in his favorite pastimes, namely lounging, lazing, and daydreaming. But mortal civilization persevered through the ages. For whatever reason, they seemed absolutely determined to stay alive in time. They built cities and palaces, kingdoms defended their borders against invaders, while wandering heroes fought in defense of the common folk. And as humanity multiplied, so did their worries. It was maddening and tedious. But even Jining, lazy loud of a godling that he was, dared not turn his back on a duty bestowed by the immortal Emperor. And so he listened to every prayer and gave them the consideration they were due. On rare occasions, he intervened on behalf of the mortals, who earned his sympathy. When he needed a break from mortals and their whining, he paid a visit to his sister, the goddess of lonely places. She dwelled in the ruins of a ship at the bottom of the ocean, spending her days in quiet contemplation. They lay side by side in the shipwreck, gazing up through the water where the faint shimmer of moonlight was just visible through the rippling waves. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful. And damn it all, that wretched serving girl forgot to light the fires again. Jining winced as the prayer reverberated its way to him through the water. A school of fish scattered in alarm. His sister gave him an uncharacteristic scowl. It was clear his minor troubles were disturbing the sanctity of the lonely places. I'll go Tuning, said with a sigh and left. It's broken. My favorite. Oh no. I thought I finished that already. Why won't he just leave me alone? And then a deafening shriek cut through the low, constant hum of troubles. By all the gods and spirits, I just need a good night's sleep. Jining almost fell out of the air in fright. He looked around as though expecting to find a mortal yelling directly into his ear. But since he was currently lying in a cloud, he was alone. Unsurprisingly. How can I be expected to fight for justice when I awaken five times a night? Jining gritted his teeth and pulled a wisp of cloud over his head. A martial artist needs her rest before she can battle evil, jining growled. He focused his senses and followed the mortal's abrasive voice. He flew over rivers and fields and villages until he finally arrived at a small camp at the bottom of a mountain. An old woman lay upon a mat, wide awake and scowling at the sky. I'LL end up falling asleep in the middle of battle. I beg of you, jining whispered. Pray more quietly. The woman gasped in shock, jumping to her feet. She certainly seemed spry for a mortal of her advanced age. Who are you? She demanded. What do you want? You prayed to me, he said a bit tetchily. And I answered. She narrowed her eyes. You are Siu Hu, the God of Warriors. No, juning said. I am Juning, the God of Minor Troubles. The what? The God of Minor Troubles. She stared at him. He stared back appraisingly. She was tall and severe, her thinning white hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was thin but wiry. My troubles are not minor, Lord Jining, she said firmly. In two days time, I plan to march upon the village at the top of the mountain and liberate the good people there from the bandits who have taken them prisoner. Jinning raised an eyebrow. You plan to fight off these bandits yourself? The woman drew herself up a little taller. In my youth I was trained by the greatest masters in the land. But I turned my back on the path to marry and bear children, and for many years I did not touch the hilt of my sword. Now my husband is gone, and my children have children of their own. I left the city to spend my twilight years on the path I once abandoned. I am a warrior still, and I will not leave the village to their fate. I see, jining said doubtfully. It seemed to him that those twilight years would soon come to an abrupt end. I will grant you your good night's sleep. She bowed shortly. I thank you, Lord Jining, and I would be most grateful if you would intercede on my behalf with the God of Warriors. I am in great need of his blessing, juning said, and vanished. Ah, these damned boots. I thought I mended them already. Juning groaned, pressing his hands over his ears. It didn't help, of course, but the woman's incessant complaining drilled straight into his skull. How am I to fight with stones in my boots? He flew to the mountain in a fury. She was bent over a pair of tattered boots, needle and thread in hand. How dare you demand so much of my attention? He raged. Do you think you are the only person in the world with minor troubles? She squinted up at him, one wrinkled hand shielding her eyes from the sun. I prayed to the God of warriors, not to you, she said. Such impudence. Jining was so incensed that he felt flames spark in his eyes, but the tiresome old woman did not even flinch. Yet here I am. I am facing A warrior's death, she replied, standing up and facing him with her arms stubbornly crossed. Do my prayers not deserve to be heard by the God of Warriors? My troubles are not minor. I am not that insignificant. He could flatten her like an insect for such an insult. It was his right as a God. It makes no difference to me, he said. Tomorrow you will be dead, and no one will ever hear your prayers again. Her lips pressed together tightly. She stared at him and said nothing. Your boots have been mended. Jining snapped and flew away. Lord Jining. Jining cracked one eye open. It had been an unusually peaceful evening. He was dozing in the eye of a storm, the wind and rain lashing all around but never touching him. It was a very cozy spot. What now? He demanded, projecting his voice over the distance to the irksome old woman. You might have struck me down for my insolence, but you did not. That was a kindness. Realizing that his peaceful evening was over, Jining sighed and flew to the old woman's camp, where he found her sitting on the mat, her sword laid across her lap. Indeed, you were deplorably insolent, he said. But I shall forgive you. I am very magnanimous. He turned to depart. Wait, Lord Jining, she said. I do have a minor trouble. I am troubled to be alone on the last night of my life. Will you stay and tell me a little of yourself? Of myself? He asked, perplexed. Yes. You are an Immortal. Surely you have many stories to tell. Jeanning hesitated. Very well, he said. I will tell you the tale of how I came to be the God of minor troubles. The Immortal Emperor assured me it was no punishment, but I have my doubts. I was on the moon when he summoned us to the Golden Sky Palace. He marched up the mountain road. She wished she could say she felt no fear, but that would be a lie. It wasn't death she feared. It was mockery and humiliation. She had horrible visions of the bandits cutting her down with ease, laughing at the foolish old woman who thought she was still a martial artist. The God of Warriors had not even seen fit to give her his blessing. But still, she reminded herself, she had spent her last days in the presence of a God. A rather peculiar God, but a God nonetheless. The bandits had overrun the tiny mountaintop village. There were seven of them, armed to the teeth. They had settled in the biggest houses, devouring the villagers food and wine while the villagers cowered in their basements. Pei walked into the village square, her gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to react as she sensed rather than saw men emerge from houses around her. She unsheathed her sword in one smooth motion. I demand that you leave this village, she said, her voice clear and strong. You have no place here. The leader of the bandits chuckled. It's truly pitiful when grandmothers go senile. He hefted his own sword. Pay leaped and twisted as the bandit leader swung his sword. Her joints creaked, but the memory of lifelong training still sang within her. She jumped high and for a single drawn out moment seemed to hang in mid air, the world going silent around her. And then she stabbed downward with her sword, skewering the bandit through the chest. He staggered. The astonishment on his face was a sight to behold before he crumpled to the ground. There was a brief silence and then the other bandits rushed at her, screaming. Pei lost herself in the dance. She spun and kicked and her sword was a whirl, and for a few seconds she was once again young and invincible. For a few seconds and then a blow caught her on the side of the head, sending her reeling. She fell to her hands and knees, suddenly feeling every aching joint, every brittle bone. She looked up and saw a bandit poised to stab his sword through her chest. She bared her teeth as death came for her. And then the bandit stumbled. Pei slashed her sword across his throat before he had a chance to find his footing. Blood sprayed. She struck true again and again. But even amidst the fever of battle, she noticed something curious moments when their aim was just a little off, their swords just a whisper. Too slow. Tiny things really. Too minor to turn the tide of battle, but enough to give her an advantage. Sword lifted high above her head, she looked around wildly for her next opponent and realized there was none. She was surrounded by seven corpses. She cackled in triumph. Then she collapsed. The villagers were making a huge fuss over her, and Pei was enjoying herself greatly. They had called on a physician from a neighboring town who had seen to her wounds and told her it was a miracle that she was still walking. While she recovered, the villagers set her up in their biggest house and waited attentively on her every need. She reclined in a chair on the porch which overlooked the mountain pass. It was a clear, lovely day. Feeling a little silly, Hae cleared her throat. Lord Jning? She asked tentatively. Nothing happened. Lord Jing. She called again, louder. Still nothing. Perhaps now that she was contented and had no more troubles, she was no longer his problem. That was probably for the best. She had taken up enough of his time. She reached for her cup of chilled sour plum juice, but her hand bumped against it, sending it spilling. Damn. She cursed, mopping at the mess with the hem of her tunic. Really, Lord, Jining said, exasperated. Do you still have troubles to complain about? It seems so, pei said. I am a cantankerous old lady and have no shortage of complaints. Come sit. Do you like sour plum juice? I have never tried it. Cheating sat on the stool next to her and took the cup she poured him. He sipped it. Hmm. Satisfactory. It is very peaceful here, is it not? Cheating looked out at the mountain pass and the valley beyond, where the trees swayed gently in the breeze. I suppose it is. You could stay a little while, hei suggested. Take a well deserved break. Perhaps a nap. Unless your duties are calling you away already. I do have many onerous duties, jining said reluctantly. The sound of something breaking followed by a cry of dismay reached their ears from the neighboring house. Perhaps I can attend to them from here, at least for a while, jining said, and then he closed his eyes and fell asleep. We hope you enjoyed the God of Minor Troubles By Megan Chi Megan Chi has lived in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the United States and is currently based in Singapore. Her speculative short fiction has appeared in Clark's World Magazine, Lightspeed Magazine, Fantasy Magazine, Nature Futures, Cast of Wonders, and other venues. You can find her online at Megan Chee Card, that's C A R R D or on the Socials Aganflchi. I'm gonna pull back the curtain a little bit and share some stuff about this particular story with you. One of the things that I have learned can be the difference between a good narration and a great narration is when I, as a narrator, know who I'm talking to. Who am I telling this story to? How do I feel about that person? How does that person feel about what I'm telling them? These are all questions I ask in my preparation, and Gabrielle, my director, and I worked together on this one to sort of figure out what the answers to those questions are for this one. And it's very obvious in the text, right? The God of minor Troubles just very much does not want that gig. You want something bigger and better, right? But the Immortal Emperor knows, like this is the job that you need to do, right? Like if you try to do something else, you're not gonna do it. Well, you can't be the God of warriors, you're just not that guy. Embrace your role. And we see his sister embrace her role and she's very happy. Okay, that's one piece of it, right? So we decided that here is this, like whoever is telling this story, like I don't know. He's buddies with the immortal emperor. Maybe he's above the immortal emperor. Maybe it's the immortal emperor in disguise. I don't know. But he's talking to someone who's about to find out what their assignment is going to be. And they're, like, super bummed out. You know, they're like, I don't want to be the God of boiling water. And he sort of says, what's not written in the story? And in my preparation is. He says, okay, I hear that. I understand that sounds like a shit job. But every job is really important for different reasons that you may not be aware of. You may not know how great you're gonna be at this thing because you haven't given yourself an opportunity to even take the chance and give it a shot. So he tells him this story. That was my point of view as a narrator. I wanted it to feel a little bit like a morality story all the way through. Then the second part, and this is the part that was really, really, really, really fun for me, was giving Pei her voice. I immediately thought of legendary Chinese American actor Victor Wong, who passed in 2001. He's in big trouble in Little China. He's in the golden child in the 80s. He was your go to. Like, this feels like an insensitive description, but I think it's an appropriate one. Your weird Chinese guy, that weird, mysterious. Like, you know in the Simpsons, when Krusty the Clown has the doll that tries to kill Homer, and there's the guy who's like, the doll carries a terrible curse. Imagine, like, I think that character very much was inspired by Victor Wong. He's amazing. I love him in absolutely everything. But he has. He leans into you and he looks at you like this with his one good eye. And he makes sure that he knows that you know, that he knows that even with one good eye, can still see right through you. And it just gives him and then gives Pei a very clear point of view. This is where I find the joy and the fun and the play in the work. One of the reasons I've figured out over the last few years, I really love this type of work. Animation and video games and audiobooks work with just my voice and I slog through on camera work is that I would never have the freedom as an on camera actor to channel Victor Wong into an old Chinese woman. Right? I would never get that opportunity for a ton of reasons. The magic and the joy, the privilege and the gift of audiobook narration is getting to do something like This. I hope you had a good time with this. I hope that you enjoyed it. And I hope that should you experience the need to call on the God of Minor Troubles, he hears you and everything is cool. Sooner than later. Thanks a lot for listening, everybody. We'll see you next time. Hey, thanks a lot, Will, from the past. It's me, Will, from the present, talking to you. Whoa. In the future, because you won't hear it until I record it. I swear I'm not high. This is just a really interesting temporal experience for me. I hope you enjoyed the God of Minor Troubles. I think you can tell we just had so much fun doing that story. When I reached out to Megan for permission for it, I was just so, you know, I was nervous. I was like, gosh, what if they say no? Or what if they're like, no, I hate you. Or like, whatever, right? You know, whatever your unreasonable, unlikely fear happens to be. And I just remember how excited she was. It was like, oh, I love that you're gonna do my story. I'd love that. And I very much loved finding those very different characters and finding where they kind of lived in my body and how I could keep them alive throughout the entire narrative. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for listening. We will be back next week with a brand new episode. I don't know what it is yet because we have not yet decided which one we will be releasing, but I promise you it will be something very much worth your time that creates a space for you to relax and get a little break from gestures broadly at everything, wherever you are. I hope that you are having the very best possible day. I love you. I'm so grateful that you're here. It's Storytime with Wil Wheaton was produced in 2025 by Traveler Enterprises Incorporated, who holds the copyright. Our producer is Harris Lane. Our story producer and director is Gabrielle Dacure. Our content editors are Lynn and Michael Thomas. Our podcast is edited, mixed and mastered by Alex Barton of Phase Shift av. Special thanks to Wes Stevens, Christopher Black and Marina Piper, recorded as Skyboat Media. Thanks a lot for listening. As I said at the top of the podcast, I'm so happy that you are here. If you've enjoyed the show, please like subscribe rate and review us wherever you get your podcasts. I'll see you next time. Until then, take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
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On June 18, 2023, OceanGate's Titan submersible imploded during an expedition dive to the Titanic, killing all five on board, including OceanGate founder and CEO Stockton Rush. Numerous industry experts and employees from within Oceangate itself had warned Rush of impending doom, citing safety concerns and a lack of testing. His hubris, ego and reckless desire for innovation over all else cost him his life and that of four others. The catastrophic destruction of the Titan submersible sent shockwaves through the ocean exploration industry that are still being felt today. The Oceangate Titan Submersible A Preventable Tragedy, a two part series available now on Shipwrecks and Sea Dogs. Listen wherever you get your podcasts.