[image description: A bald cosmonaut floats upside down in space, where the Milky Way and a panoply of stars reflect in his spherical helmet. Text reads, “147, Yuri Polithane ~ Small God of Bubble Helmets”]
He is a god of frontiers.
He is born again in every child who turns their eyes toward the stars, toward the sea, toward the horizon, and he grows with them. He is young and old at the same time, all ages and all things, and always looking outward.
Windows are his. Portholes. External cameras. He is not a god of surveillance, but he is a god of seeing, of the endless need to behold the wonders of the cosmos, of the world around us. He only wants to look. He has no desire to settle, or to damage, or to claim.
When first a maritime explorer donned a diving helmet, Yuri was there to egg them on, cajoling and encouraging, begging them to let him loose on new sights and new experience. And when humanity set their skills toward space, Yuri was on the first satellite out, waiting for the moment when his faithful would join him, when they would see.
He was there with Laika when the heat grew too great, when her breathing grew too labored, and he did what good gods have always done, and held her close for so long as he was needed. He looks now in her honor, as he looks in the honor of all those who have reached, whether of their own volition or at another’s. She was not his by choice, but she was his at the end, and he is a god of his word.
He only hopes that you can have the chance to see.
He hopes you will keep your eyes open, and take him with you when you go.
Join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.