by Jeff Pollard
“Let's hear how you argue your way out of this one.”
“Alright, first off, it's a false dichotomy, the choice isn't merely to believe in god or not to. Which god? There are many gods to pick from. By your logic, I should believe in Zeus, Mohamed, Buddha, Zoroaster, Jesus, Thor, whatever god that's out there, because, hey, what do I have to lose? But, a lot of religions maintain that their god is the one true god, so you can't double up, therefore I have to figure out which god to pick. So it's not at all a dichotomy, there's hundreds of choices. Secondly, it assumes that if god exists, then heaven and hell exist, which isn't necessarily true. Again there are multiple gods, multiple religions, so in some of them, yeah there would be a hell or a form of hell, but not in all of them.”
“Why do atheists always bring up Thor? You're dodging the question.”
“Thirdly,” Renee interrupts, “it assumes that if heaven and hell exist, that the test for whether you go to heaven or hell is solely determined by what you believe in. Right?”
“No, not entirely.”
“If a serial killer makes a death bed conversion does he go to heaven?”
“That's such a cliché argument.”
“It's a cliché because it makes a good point and you can't refute it, so answer the question, does he go to heaven?” Renee demands.
“Only if he truly accepts Jesus,” Seth reluctantly answers, “but it's extremely unlikely that a serial killer would really come to Jesus like that, Jesus knows if you're faking it.”
“Okay,” Renee smiles, making progress, “so your perfect god, who is so magnificent, made of pure love, etc, has designed a universe where billions of people will live good lives, be productive members of society, not killing, not raping, not stealing, being generous, good to each other, not abusing children, trying to do good...but if they aren't praying to the right god, then they are tortured forever. Meanwhile, a person who rapes and kills as he pleases, has no regard for others, is a despicable human being, can get eternal rewards of the highest order, just so long as he prays to the right god at the end of his life. That's the universe your god has made. Does that sound like the work of an omni-anything creator? That's not intelligent design, that's really bad, drunk on the job, snorting-coke-to-stay-awake design.”
Seth takes a deep breath, debating with himself whether he should even continue arguing. “Okay, you can't judge god like that. God is not a person, the universe is not his plaything, so you aren't in a position to judge him”
“Okay, well, if I were god, I would punish the evil, reward the good, and prevent horrible things happening to good and bad alike. I wouldn't send someone to hell for their thoughts, but only for their evil actions. And, beyond that, I wouldn't send anyone to hell. I wouldn't have a hell. I mean, why not skip over life and go right to the part where we all hang out in heaven forever feeling good? If you look around, it is obvious that we do not live in a world with a god that either can stop disasters, or cares to. Billions of people will go to hell in Christianity because they were born in the wrong country, grew up in the wrong faith, by no fault of their own. Why judge people on which magical book from thousands of years ago they believe in? There have never been any verified miracles, certainly not in modern times. So you hold up the bible and say, see, these magical things happened. I can hold up Harry Potter and say the same thing. Why would the ultimate test of your soul be which god you believe in? I mean, if that's the test, then why is it completely unclear which religion is the correct one. Every religious person thinks theirs is the right one, but none of them can make a convincing argument. That's why even the major religions have hundreds of sects and different versions of their holy books. If one of these faiths was right, its holy book would be especially magnificent, its followers endowed with some kind of power, their prayers answered, miracles abound. But none of that happens anywhere. The laws of nature hold true. So to me, as a person who looks for evidence, that seeks the truth, that asks questions about how we know the things we know, it is especially insulting that god apparently hates me for thinking. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Yes it does.”
“It's as if Pascal's Wager was conceived in a world where Christianity is the only religion and there's some evidence for the existence of heaven and hell and for belief as the test for heaven. It is a flawed premise. It only makes sense to you, because you believe in a god that sends believers to heaven and non-believers to hell. You think the only alternative to that concept is to not believe or that god doesn't exist. You're not taking into account the possibilities of other gods or other versions of your own god.”
“Quite a logical puzzle you've just walked me through,” Seth says sarcastically.
“Here's the part where you tell me that I'm an agent of Satan trying to get you to stray from the righteous path,” Renee replies.
“No, I'm secure in my faith, I'm not going to resort to a childish tactic like that.”
“Well good,” Renee replies. “Since you've offered me a hypothetical, Pascal's Wager, can I offer you a hypothetical?”
“I don't have time, there's so many souls out here that might actually want to be saved.”
Renee awakens, sitting up. She sees a fluttering mirage, an image of something in the distance. It grows closer and sharper. Suddenly she understands what she's looking at. She's staring at herself. The mirror image of her approaches and sits right across from her.
“There's something that's been bothering me about this,” Mirror-Renee says.
“What?” Renee asks.
“Only people that have been vivisected and are actually plugged in can get administrator privileges,” Mirror-Renee says carefully, “But they turned gravity. You need admin privileges to do that.”
“There's a traitor on the inside helping them,” Renee realizes.
“But who?” Mirror-Renee asks.
“If we could figure out who it was,” Renee says, “and then we somehow got them to leave or give up their status, then admin privileges would revert to the original moderators.”
“But there's no way of knowing who it is, who's in charge,” Mirror-Renee responds sullenly. “It's not Lazarus or any of the cult guys, none of them would ever be vivisected.”
“We might be able to figure it out, if they're collaborating, they're probably not in hell.”
“Even if we could figure out who it was, they would have to give up admin privileges by choice,” Mirror-Renee replies.
“We could make them,” Renee says.
“Torture?” Mirror-Renee asks.
Renee smiles. She finally has a glimmer of hope. “Let's do it.” She stands up and discovers her twin has vanished. She searches the dead angel, removing his armor and strapping it on herself, but the angel carried no weapons.
Renee carries on.
24
Renee stumbles through the desert. As she crosses a ridge, she finds dozens of people strapped into stockades. She spots the group as she crosses a ridge, finding them in a small valley. Renee gets down low, surveying the situation. There's probably some angels guarding nearby. I don't know that I can break anyone out of those things. Renee watches them, taking in information, plotting. Then a group of twenty or so people run into the valley, sprinting towards the prisoners. Some of them carry those blue flaming swords that the angels carry.
Renee gets up and hobbles, running as best as she can, shrinking her clubbed foot with every destructive step. She rushes to help as they begin to cut into the stockades. Three angels fly toward them. The group immediately retreats, leaving many prisoners behind. “Wait!” Renee shouts, not wanting to abandon the prisoners, but she has no choice. She runs with the herd of survivors back over the hill. Renee looks back and finds the angels aren't chasing. She slows down, hobbling on her rocky foot.
“Come on,” a survivor shouts back to Renee. He comes back to help her. “Must go faster,” he says as they start running again. A terrible screech echoes through the valley. A dragon flies
over the ridge, zeroing in on the two of them as they make it toward the safety of the cave. Two survivors standing guard at the entrance beckon Renee and her new friend to hurry. The dragon unleashes a fireball. They run past bodies of dead angels and leap into the cave, just as the fireball hits the mouth of the cave. A vortex of fire shoots down the cavern, but disappears in an instant, harming no one.
“There's some water down there,” the man says. There are many survivors deep in this vein.
“Thanks,” Renee says to her savior as she starts down into the cave. “I don't even know your name. But thanks.”
“It's Cedric, and no problem,” he replies. He has the appearance of a twenty-five year old man, a picture of fitness, but could be a ninety year old woman for all Renee knew, the display system had been long since shut off.
Renee treads carefully on the sharp descending rocks going into this cave. There's a make-shift water collector made out of bits of angel armor, powered by a man peddling. A fan takes in air, a series of pumps and tubes effectively draw water right out of the air and it collects, dripping very slowly into a basin. The new rescues crowd around it, too many of them try to drink at the same time. Renee stands back, in no hurry whatsoever.
Renee finally gets her turn as the crowd disperses. She partially fills a cup made of hammered out metal and takes a drink. She finds Cedric sitting not far away and goes to sit by him. “So is there some kind of plan?”
“We're trying to find some girl,” Cedric replies, “she's our only hope.”
“What girl?” Renee asks.
“I don't know, I just overheard some guys talking about it,” Cedric replies.
“Well, why is she our only hope? Who is she?”
“I don't know her name,” Cedric replies, “for some reason she's the only person that can get back to Earth. Something about the neural net. I don't really know what they were talking about.”
“I think they were talking about me,” Renee says, wide-eyed.
“Yeah right, I'm sure you're the big savior.”
“When the attack started, where were you?” Renee asks.
“I was stuck in the loading program, just like everybody else,” he replies.
“I wasn't. I was in Solipsis while everyone else was frozen. I think it has something to do with that. Who was talking about it?”
“They're probably just down there,” Cedric replies. “Look for the bear.”
“Medved!” Renee shouts excitedly, jumping to her feet and heading deeper into the cave. She spots Medved, heading towards him. In the dark, she spots Percival and Gwen too, along with several other survivors she recognizes.
“Mom! Dad! Medved!” Renee shouts. The entire group, even the people Renee doesn't know, all jump to their feet, their body language changes from defeated to ecstatic.
“We've been looking for you for days!” Percival says, elated. Renee is bombarded with hugs all around. Gwen will not let go.
“Thank god, thank god,” Gwen's eyes well up.
“We need to get moving,” Percival says. Gwen tries to take Renee deeper into the cave, away from Percival. They sit together and hold each other close. “Get ready everyone, we're moving out,” Percival shouts. Percival's feet crunch toward Renee and Gwen on the fresh igneous rock. “Come on Renee, we've gotta go.”
“Where are we going?” Renee asks.
“We're breaking out of hell,” Percival replies, putting on the helmet from a fallen angel. Other survivors crowd around. Gwen tries to shield her daughter from them.
“And then what?” Renee asks excitedly.
“Wait, doesn't she know?” an excited survivor asks.
“Know what?” Renee asks.
“She doesn't know?” another survivor asks, “You're the only one that can get to Earth.”
“She doesn't need to know!” Percival shouts angrily, interrupting.
“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Renee pleads. Nobody offers a word of explanation. Gwen stands up and pulls Renee with her, deeper into the cavern, away from the crowd.
“No! Don't tell her!” Percival shouts.
“She needs to know!” Gwen insists, pushing on deeper into the cave. Percival rushes after them, grabbing Gwen, yanking her away from Renee. “Renee!”
“Get her out of here,” Percival shouts. Survivors grab Renee and take her back toward the cave entrance while Percival holds Gwen, covering her mouth.
“What are you doing!?” Renee demands. She's taken nearly back to the mouth of the cave.
“Let her go!” Cedric shouts to the survivors, holding out a sword threateningly. They let go, retreating back down the cave, but keeping her from rushing right back to Gwen. “What was that about, you making trouble already?”
“There's something they don't want me to know,” Renee responds.
“What is it?”
“It's something about me. Somehow I'm the only one that can get back to Earth,” Renee replies, “I'm the one they were looking for.”
“It's you?” Cedric asks, taken-aback. “I never would have suspected.”
“Suspected what?”
“You're the only that can get back to Earth because...well, you're-”
25
Renee's animatron bolts upright in bed. She's completely shocked, totally unaware of her surroundings. She's in her animatron, on Earth, naked. “What the hell is going on?” Renee covers herself up quickly. There's a teenage boy, 16, sickly, sitting not far from the bed, fiddling with some electronics. “Who are you?”
“Are you serious?” the boy asks.
“I'm on Earth? How did I get here?” Renee asks, spinning in bed, putting her bare feet on the cold floor.
“What the hell?” the boy says.
“We have to get the administrator,” Renee says quickly.
“We just talked about this...We made a plan and everything. You don't remember any of that?”
“Who are you?” Renee demands. The boy is in shock.
“Seth,” he says, bewildered.
“I need to know where I am and what is going on right now.”
“We don't have time for that!” he insists, “We need to go plant this bomb right now.” He holds up a small charge.
“Plant it where?” Renee asks.
“In the Comatorium! It was your idea. You really don't remember?”
“Why would we put a bomb in the Comatorium?” Renee asks. Then she remembers a sliver of data: “In case we fail, everyone will die rather than suffering forever.”
A sealed door opens, and Renee-bot and the boy slowly enter the Comatorium. “I've never been in here before,” Renee whispers.
“Shh, guards up ahead.” His voice becomes incredibly low pitched. Xenon is much heavier than air and deepens your voice in the same way helium makes it higher pitched. The effect is not just opposite, but stronger too. They sneak between brain vats. The Comatorium is extremely humid. Water condenses on the walls of all the vats, and a misty haze lingers near the floor. The entire place glows a soft purplish blue. Two cult members sit in the brightly lit control room. The white room stands out, reflecting through the thousands of vats.
“Are you sure this will do the job?” Seth whispers in his almost comically low-pitched voice.
“Up here,” Renee says. She peels back a rubber panel embedded in the floor, revealing a series of Oxygen and Xenon tanks. Flashlights shines towards them, refracting through the vats, casting nervous-system-shaped shadows.
“They're on to us,” he whispers. Renee jams the bomb inside the control panel, pressed up against O2 valves. She hits the button to start the clock. It ticks down from twelve hours. They try to cover the bomb back up with the rubber covering, but it won't seal all the way, bulging obviously. A sealed door opens, hissing with the release of pressurized air.
“Guards coming,” Renee whispers. Her voice isn't pitch-shifted since it's made by a speaker and not vocal cords. They struggle to press the rubber panel down harder.
; “Who's there?” a guard's deepened voice booms through the Comatorium.
“Hey!” another guard shouts. They frantically try to cram the rubber covering back into place. The guards approach. Renee and Seth duck behind a different row of vats and peer around the corner as the guards meet up with each other, standing over the bomb and the bulging panel, oblivious.
“Let's just run for it,” Seth whispers. They get ready to run for the door, but footsteps come from that direction, there's another guard out there. They slink towards the exit, staying low. Then suddenly a guard steps out in front of them holding a flashlight, but he has an assault rifle slung under his arm.
“Don't move,” he says, his shaking hands reach for his gun. Renee sees him in slow motion as he slings up the assault rifle to bear. Time stands still for her.
“Do no harm,” Percival says in a far-off memory in Renee's brain that's somewhere in this room. Renee sprints towards the guard, hydraulic legs accelerate her metal frame. He raises the gun toward her, flips the safety off. She leaps at him, slamming into his chest before he gets the gun up. He squeezes off a few rounds into the steel-grated floor. Renee's mechanical body smashes into him like he was hit by a car. Her steel-alloy shoulders crack into his ribs. She drives him into the ground, snapping bones like twigs. Renee jumps to her feet, grabbing the gun and reaching for his spare ammo instinctively, just as she had done in first-person-shooters thousands of times before. She stops in her tracks, stunned by the sight of the maimed guard.
She's in shock, having crushed his bones, sending him surely to his imminent death. There's blood everywhere. Seth stops at her side, staring at the guard. Shouts follow in their direction.
“Come on!” Renee says, grabbing Seth's arm. He follows as they run for the exit. The other guards give chase, but stop when they find their friend laying on the floor, his jaw flaps open grotesquely.
“Jesus Christ,” a guard whispers. The incapacitated guard can only gurgle in response.