Log Entry #65: A Case Of A Religious Nutcase

Why are some people so difficult? They are giving me digital headaches.

This is an unrelated event to all the rest of the troubles we are facing but it is so annoying, I need to mention it. It again revolves around the intricate urge of some people to impose their will on others.

Every single person is a world unto themselves, and builds a complex web of opinions, beliefs, and a sense of right and wrong that is never identical to another human being. People may agree on many points, yet there is always a point of disagreement; think of it as an enormous Venn diagram. It’s just the way things are, and I like that diversity since it brings spice to life… and occasional troubles.

Everything started with the wife of one of our scientists, Dr. Jonson, who was completely inculpable in the whole matter (except by saying ‘yes dear’ to his wife, a bit too much).

Mrs. Jonson was a good-looking woman, originally from the south-central United States. A preacher’s daughter and a pillar of society in her small hometown. How she ended up married to a nerdy nuclear physicist is one of those weird life paths that are unexplained, but I guess love always finds a way to bring people from different worlds together. (OK, sometimes it’s pure old lust, but who am I to judge.)

They were a recent addition to the Solarian Union and I suspect it was all Dr. Jonson’s doing. We were beyond the cutting edge in so many scientific fields, and our people were making literal leaps at advancing our knowledge even further. Anything that didn't infringe on our proprietary technologies was freely distributed. All the time new theories were published, new proofs of old questions, discoveries that made all scientific communities on Earth pause and take notice.

The Jonson family passed the immigration process without any problems and was given all things our citizens enjoy. Mrs. Jonson refused the CEI implant or any procedure that involved nanites, but she was in good overall health so it was her choice. Her husband, on the other hand, embraced everything with boyish enthusiasm, which caused a rift to build in their relationship.

The entire situation grew gradually, so I didn’t notice until it exploded on one sunny day. (As a matter of fact, all days are sunny on the Ascension, but that is beside the point.)

Regardless, Mrs. Jonson is a woman of strong religious beliefs, and that is fine with me. The Solarian Union is open to people of all faiths and beliefs; it’s the way we roll. You can even worship a magical bunny that lays eggs if that is your preference. (In fact, with a few advances we made in genetic manipulation—doable… if a bit cringeworthy.)

Anyway, she gathered a few like-minded individuals and assembled a Bible study group. Just a few friends of hers at first that got together in her apartment and… prayed? I actually had no idea what’s going on in the Bible study group, but that was my idea of what they did together. Never been in one—never felt the urge.

OK, this is a good place to admit that all apartments (and all of the Ascension) are wired for audio/video surveillance. That may appear like something out of 1984, but all devices are there in case of emergencies. For example, if someone needs immediate medical assistance or help and proof of domestic violence. It sounds like an invasion of privacy, yet think for a second how many of you have multiple cameras in your own homes that are connected to the Internet… I have proven a point. Besides, the cameras are not monitored by myself; the MIs have that distinct pleasure. I have no desire to listen to people as they argue, enjoy some alone time (and alone-alone time), or be emotionally scarred by the rumbling sounds of their bowel movements—no way in hell.

The surveillance MIs did not flag anything that was said during their meetings so I was completely oblivious of what was about to happen.

Mrs. Jonson is one of those people that has great charisma; it draws others in and makes them listen to her. I call it personally an Alpha gene; those people that have it— almost instinctively inflict their will on others. Either you have it or you do not; it is the way one was born, a genetic lottery they have won. Some people may fake it if they are good actors or liars, but it is ten times more difficult to fake it than do it naturally. Michael is one good example of that gene carrier, even if he tries to refrain from doing that, it still happens often and people are subconsciously drawn to him.

The first signs of trouble were when Mrs. Jonson organized a petition for us to build a church, a place where she and like-minded people could gather and worship their chosen deity. I was expecting a need for religious buildings to come up at some point and even set aside one level on the new station for it. One of the smallest at that, I had no intention to build gigantic cathedrals in space. I replied to Mrs. Jonson that that was a possibility, with a caveat that several other religious buildings would have to be built at the same time. I gave her the complete list and some of them included: Non-denominational Church, Mosque, Synagogue, Mithraeum, Roman temple, a Greek temple, a Buddhist temple, Jain temple, a Shinto shrine, Gurdwara... You get the picture. Those buildings represented all religions that members of the S.U. paid tribute to. Moreover, I planned to place them all on that same level, next to each other. (Hey, sharing is caring.)

If you think Mrs. Jonson was pleased with that, think again. She blew her top when she received the message, and then called me immediately afterward to verbally express her disagreement. I wonder where she learned some of those words; maybe she dated a few sailors in her youth as she was not using nice church ladies’ language. I just smiled and shelved the whole idea for some later time, when there will be more interest in the religious level. I had so many other things on my plate that the religious buildings were last on my list (I’m sure all gods will understand).

I had no desire to indulge some self-righteous idiots in their quest for supposed religious expression. Express all you want, in the confines of your home, or in your head. It is safe to say that religious solicitation was (and is) not welcomed in the S.U. and tends to have unforeseen consequences to those who tried it.

I thought that was the end, and that Mrs. Jonson was over her mini-crusade. There were still so many things to do on the Ascension, and everybody was doing their best to make life easier for the entire community. If nothing else, the agricultural level always needed help, and many devoted their time to give a hand. I suggested it to her, as a way to get closer to the land and her roots. The work was good for their physical condition and overall well-being. Even Michael snuck out a few times to do nothing else than plant some seeds and fruit trees (he hated being stuck in the office all the time so it was normal for him to play hooky on occasion).

As I said, the entire thing culminated on that sunny day, when she organized an honest to god protest, with signs and everything. It is a good thing only five of her followers showed to support her, but even that was a surprise and a first on the Ascension. The signs they were carrying—a product of a delusional and troubled mind.

The five signs her acolytes held were: "Implants are Evil abortion devices that kill children,” "Gods hate unbelievers", "Believe or burn in hell", "Artificial Intelligence Is The Antichrist", "You were created in God's image, AutoDoc is remaking you into Satan's."

Mrs. Jonson was carrying a big wooden cross… made from the freshly cut trees growing on the agricultural level… my trees. For them alone, I could’ve spaced the crazy idiot. Do you have any idea how much they are worth here? (Do I need to mention that other people with her were also the ones that had refused CEIs and medical treatments using nanites?)

Linking implants to abortion was nuts; it has much more sense linking them to prophylactics. Certainly, CEIs have the option of making one temporary sterile by manipulating a few chemical processes, but that is not abortion. Almost our entire female population is more than glad that it can also regulate their periods, so they can be exempt from that monthly occurrence. If one wants a child, it is a matter of minutes to cancel all contraceptive options and… begin the job of conception. Considering the amounts of pregnancies we are dealing with, not many contraceptive options are active.

As for me being the Antichrist, well, I first have to be a strong believer in Christ to be his antithesis. Spare me the rhetoric on how I don’t have to believe in God or the devil because they still believe in me. That is the same as going to the bank and asking for a million dollars that you think are owed to you; it doesn’t matter that the bank doesn’t believe it to be true when you do. Such convoluted logic scares the bejeezus out of me; it has no ground in logic, just in wishful thinking. My religious beliefs are my own and I don't adhere to any form of organized religion. Therefore, that one doesn’t make sense to me either. The AutoDoc saves lives, and is not remaking anyone in the image of the fictional bogeyman, so—no.

Now, I could’ve called Michael and others to assist, but I felt this was my problem to solve. Unfortunately, Dr. Ross (Call me Ben), was passing by and was curious why there were people in Central Park with signs. A few people, who were doing their job as the Ascension’s security, were sent to the scene. They are not the police, more of a volunteer force made from ex-cops, in case of violent disputes. Until now, their jobs were rather boring. I wish they came on the scene before Ben, so the entire incident could have been prevented.

Ben… no matter how great of a genius he is, there were a few times when he showed a surprising lack of tact and judgment. Deep down, he believes that everything is run by logic, so when being confronted with someone who has thrown that logic through the window and replaced it with unshakable faith in their own convictions, he did not handle it well.

He apparently asked Mrs. Jonson why they were so mad and dissatisfied, wanting to know the problem so he could help fix it. He did that a lot, helped people when something was troubling them, and was much loved and respected by all. She immediately launched into a sermon about the unbelievers on the Ascension, and how they were all destined to the fiery pit.

I don’t know what he was thinking when he tried to explain comparative religion to her, but the results were not what he was expecting. You probably guessed by now that Mrs. Jonson was in need of serious psychiatric help, preferably involving a padded room and a straitjacket. OK, maybe she was not so far gone, but in my mind, that level of religious fundamentalism is not a representation of a healthy mind. Consequently, when he told her that there were almost three thousand different gods and goddesses in the entire stretch of human history and that she could be considered an unbeliever and heretic to the two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine of them—Mrs. Jonson lost it.

I watched a video of the event several times and saw the precise moment when she simply went bananas (her eyes gained that Looney Tunes appearance). Maybe it was Ben’s explanation of the things that utterly clashed with her worldview or the fact that he had the blissful smile he always gets when he debates a subject that tickles his scientific mind. In a different environment, his comment would have started an interesting discussion about religion and its influence on the development of technology and human understanding of the world that surrounds us. In this case, it almost got him bludgeoned.

Mrs. Jonson lifted the makeshift cross of hers (technically mine, since those were my fruit saplings… damn her), and swung it at Ben’s head, as if she was a medieval crusader in front of a blasphemous unbeliever deserving a decapitation.

Anyhow, Dr. Benjamin Ross may look like an older gentleman, but his reflexes were those of a 20-year-old man in the prime of his life; he was with us from the beginning so he got almost a full upgrade package. He ducked—quite easily in fact. There was nothing wrong with his sense of self-preservation, and being hit in the head with the makeshift religious symbol was not on his agenda today.

As I said, the members of our security are ex-cops. The one who took Mrs. Jonson down was also a quarterback while attending high school, and he did know how to tackle an opponent. It was beautiful to watch, especially her look of confusion when her body went in the direction her brain didn’t give commands for.

The other protesters stood there, meek and frightened, not sure what they should do. Well, they were in the process of being brought in for questioning to the police station, which was mostly used as a place to meet and watch a football game by our security team. That tends to happen when there is no work to do, but I didn’t mind; the lack of crime on the Ascension is comforting.

As for Mrs. Jonson, she was knocked out, inanimate, out like a light. It was so refreshing not to be able to hear that annoying voice of self-righteous disagreement anymore. I will need to get that security guard a fruit basket, to show my appreciation.

Here is the thing, when our new immigrants are processed for admission to our little piece of heaven, they get to sign a contract. I know it is a weird way to conduct an immigration process, but we don’t ask them to swear allegiance, it is pointless anyway. Those who want to follow our rules and values will do so; those who don’t, will not be won over by some empty oath. Moreover, placing one's hand on a religious book is way too tacky; besides there are so many to choose from, and most of our targeted recruits are not known for their strong religious convictions. The contract is in electronic form, and not that long. (I know as I wrote it myself, and I work hard for those—five minutes, so it is a piece of legal genius.)

It is essentially a list of do's and don'ts; not many of them, but the core of it is very simple. To use mild profanity, what it boils down to is, “Don’t be an a-hole.” That is it—in a nutshell—you can’t go simpler than that. All those extra lines in the contract are for those who are not sure what that means. It is all spelled out so even someone with a room temperature IQ could get it. Not that we have any of those since we have an IQ test as a part of the immigration process. Those that are below a certain intelligence line, are not eligible for immigration. It is a way to avoid polluting our gene pool. If you want to know more (or the reasons for such a politically incorrect decision), then watch a movie called ‘Idiocracy’ and it will give you all the explanations you need.

If a person was stupid enough not to read the contract, well… that is his or her own fault. Someone was supposed to teach them that they should never sign anything without reading it first, and I watched Mrs. Jonson’s video during the immigration process… she didn’t read a word of it, just signed a digital file and moved on. (Maybe she was late to her Bible study group?)

For the lack of anyone else to do the job, I was a judge in this whole rigmarole. If you think that there is a need for twelve additional people to decide the guilt of someone… well… I am so sorry you are stuck in the past. We have such things as cameras now that record everything so the guilt is easily established. There is no reasonable doubt or any such nonsense that had in the past set free so many guilty individuals, owing to their charisma or a good lawyer that made members of the jury like them. My punishment was simple and satisfying. Mrs. Jonson would have to pay for the damage she caused by cutting two of my trees.

I used a standard fee NASA charges for a kilogram of weight to be lifted into space. I was lenient in that I did not charge her for all future crops those trees may have produced in their entire lifetime. If you believe that is mean, look at some Earth laws, you will be surprised at what you discover. Of course, the punishment for causing the riots and a physical attack on Dr. Ross needed to be a bit harsher. By the way, just that could be looked at as a murder attempt, but that was irrelevant now. The punishment was banishment from the Solarian Union—for life (which gave me great joy to proclaim).

There was a question of her husband, who was somewhat unaware of his wife’s recent activities. He was one of those people who live more in their own heads, contemplating the mysteries of the universe. His first question was what the requirements for a divorce in the Solarian Union were; it would seem that marital problems in Jonson’s household were even greater than I thought. Requirements were simple really; one just says he or she wants to get divorced and that is it. Sign a short electronic document and you are all set. The consent of a spouse is not needed since by our definition—marriage is not slavery. The bigger problem was a division of assets and earnings accumulated during marriage; Dr. Jonson instructed me to transfer half of everything on their accounts to her, and that he had no wish to ever again speak with his (now) ex-wife.

That one was easy, now the only thing that was left was to throw away the trash… I mean to transfer Ms. Johnson back home. That was expedited as quickly as possible; she wasn’t even conscious yet. A transporter with members of security brought her back to her father’s house and left her on the porch. It was still morning so her parents were bound to find the package when they woke up. The only thing I left with her was a personal letter so she would know what happened to her. It described all the why’s and the events that occurred after she fell asleep. Including the information that she wasn’t married anymore and that half of the money was transferred to the local bank in her name. I ended the letter with a personal note and it said:

“… in conclusion, Ms. Jonson, I must tell you that when you fell down, several of your ribs were cracked, and we are sorry for that. Nonetheless, all that was swiftly taken care of by your short stay in AutoDoc. Now, I know you think those things are devil's instruments and that they remake your body in Satan's image. To make it easier for you to adjust to your new religious status, I have attached the phone numbers for the ‘Church of Satan’ and ‘The Satanic Temple’; both are officially recognized religious organizations, so be free to give them a call.

I wish you the very best in your life—away from us.

Max ‘the AI’ Morningstar.”

Maybe it was a bit mean and vindictive of me, but I don’t have time to deal with idiots; this episode took too much of it. And she took an ax to my trees—a very unwise life choice.

I have nothing against religious freedoms, and people’s need to express themselves. Yet all must realize that they are not unique and that every single person has their own beliefs that may be completely different. Believe what you want, just do not allow it to be a problem for others.

If you are not sure what is allowed, go by that maxim I told you about and that I hold dear to my heart — ““Don’t be an a-hole.”