10. The Second Beast

Once again, the idea entered Ransom's head. Something, some force was telling him to stay. God. But that was ridiculous, of course. Any "God" would want him to do the right thing. And logic told him that the right thing to do was to escape this section of the space station.
The terrorists believed that God was on their side. The unthinkable. What if God was on there side? Preposterous, thought Ransom. Absolutely profane. How could God be on the side of those fundies? Oppressive, dogmatic neo-luddites. The enemies of science and progress. Carriers of the most virulent meme known to man. And Ransom was once one of them.
He was a much younger man. He wasn't even a man. He was a boy. He was raised in an Evangelical Pentecostal Charismatic church. And he believed everything they told him. He desired to be an acolyte. An "on fire, spirit-filled believer," like his mother. As he got older, he became more alienated from the church of his youth. His faith became smaller.
No doubt, the church leaders Ransom once followed would disapprove of Beatrice. The would call it, "playing God."
The voice that was holding Ransom back was just the last vestiges of a religious upbringing he'd been trying to put away for years.

Jesse failed. She returned, defeated, to her parents home in Miami. But she told Ransom that she was still committed to the cause of Superhumanism. She just needed a few weeks off to think.
Ransom never realized how much his interest in The Superhuman League had come to depend on Jesse. With her gone, he didn't feel like sticking around either. Ransom went back to all his older haunts on the Net, like Buddy's Tavern.

In his mountain shack, Ransom was shuffling through his e-mail. He found a particularly vague message. "Time is running out. Follow the link." He figured he would give it a try since it made it through his spam-filters. He touched it, and everything went dark for a second. Then he wasn't in his shack anymore.
He was standing on the street in the middle of a large urban center, Dallas, CenTex if his memory served correctly. This Dallas, however, was in complete chaos. Apparently, the Armageddon had begun.
It was an advertisement. An elaborate advertisement. Ransom would need to tweak his server's spam-filters after this. Normally he would just immediately leave the advertiser's site. But he stuck around because it actually looked pretty cool.
At first, the ambient sound was nothing but sirens, with occasional screaming. Most, if not all of the massive towers of the Metroplex were on fire, smoke billowing out of gaping red wounds. Ransom let his eyes stare at one of the building too long, and a missile hit it, starting another fire. The interactive program must have known he was staring. Ransom was impressed.
The terror of the fire next time gave way to the grotesque. A group of frantic people came around the corner of the closest building and ran towards him. Their faces covered with sores and lesions, poor unfortunates, victims of a chemical or biological weapon. A moment later, he saw what they were running from, a phalanx of jackbooted policemen marching down the street in military fashion, straight out of an Orwellian nightmare.
He expected rain when he heard thunder. But he realized that there was no lightning when he saw the vertical green line appear silently on the horizon, followed a few seconds later by the sound of expanding, super-heated air as the column of energy tore the sky apart. How lovely. The bad guys took over a graser cannon equipped defense sattellite. And now they were using it to destroy hospitals and elementary schools. He laughed to himself as he thought how impossible that would be. The graser hit a crowd of people. Flaming bodies were sent flying through the air. Ransom rolled his eyes. It was like a Chick tract comic book come to life. This was some violence obsessed teenager's wet dream.
A voice from overhead, God, or someone who thought he was God started speaking. "The world is a fast changing place. And as technology increases, the values and morality of civilized society decreases. Alcoholism and drug use are on the rise. Pornography and Teledildonics tear apart families and lives. Abortion has become a universally accepted form of birth control. Same-sex marriage is legal in all fifty-seven states. Some states have even legalized polygamy. The rights of men and women of faith are oppressed in the name of separation of church and state, a phrase that doesn't even appear in the American Constitution. More and more, people are asking themselves if these things are signs of the end-times as predicted in The Book of Revelation."
The apocalyptic scene faded away. Ransom found himself in a large church auditorium. At the podium stood a man that he thought he recognized. "Hello, I'm Hal LaVaye, the administrator of ProphecyNet, one of the largest and most well established forums in the subject of end-times news."
"Server, stop program, delete file."
"Ransom, are you sure you want to delete file entitled, time is running out?"
"Um, no. On second thought, put it in my junk file box." He might show the program to a few people. It was pretty high quality for a religious advertisement.
"Ransom, Daniel Rodriguez is requesting you audience." said server.
"Let him in." Ransom was bored, so he figured he could put up with Danny for a while. But just in case, he thought of an excuse, so he could get rid of Danny quickly if he wanted to."
Danny materialized, "What's up, bro?" Danny was looking thinner than usual. He must be using software that made him look not so fatass. He wore his usual attire, clothes that were considered trendy when he was in high school, a decade ago. "Ransom, did you see that end of the world scenario I sent you?"
"Oh, that was you. What's with that?"
"Isn't it the coolest thing you've ever seen?"
"It was, interesting."
"It was from ProphecyNet and Indwelling Ministries out of CenTex. They're going to have a revival meeting in Orlando in two weeks."
"A revival, huh?" Ransom had always wondered how revivals, which were supposedly inspired by the Holy Spirit, could be scheduled on specific dates by enterprising Christians.
"I'm thinking of incorporating it into a movie I'm working on. Right now, I'm in pre-production talks with several business partners who are going to look for financial backing."
Oh, brother. Here it comes. His imaginary movie production company. "That sounds great." said Ransom.
"I met with a realtor yesterday to go look at this building. He wanted a fifty-thousand dollar deposit. I'm like, whoa! Don't get me wrong. It's a nice building. But there are no sensor-embedded smart walls. There are still light switches and electrical outlets in the walls. I'm like, come on, man. You gotta work with me and bring the price down."
"Danny, you don't have fifty-thousand dollars. You don't even have a thousand dollars."
"Well, no. Not yet. I still have to work my contacts. You need good money people if you want to run a successful movie company."
Ransom was getting irritated. "Danny, if you're so interested in making movies, then why don't you make one? A movie that would have cost millions of dollars to produce twenty years ago can be made today for free. All you need is a decent server, software for three-dee constructs, avatar constructs, and sound production, which you can download for free if you bother to look, and a lot of time and patience. Ken and I used to make movies for fun. Why don't you just do what you want to do, and stop acting like you're big and important."
"I think you just don't understand the movie business." said Danny.
Ransom gave up.
"So do you want to go?" asked Danny.
"Go where?"
"To the revival."
"Oh, I dunno." said Ransom
"Come on, I think it would be really good for you."
How could Danny possibly know what's good for me? "I don't buy into this end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it stuff"
"You don't? Are you saying that you don't believe the Bible? You need to get back into the Word, bro."
"Uh."
"Well to be honest, I was hoping for a ride. My rail pass expired, and I don't have enough money to renew it."
Ransom really was too nice. He could feel himself slipping. Do this thing, he told himself, and Danny wouldn't bother him, for at least a month. "Okay."

The church was located in the back end of a shopping mall, in a converted movie theatre. Ransom always had a hard time believing that people actually used to leave their homes just to watch a movie, or "film", as it used to be called. On top of that, they used to pay for the privilege.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw a sign instructing him to turn left for "Extreme Life Church parking." Danny had explained to him that this church was at one time a member of Assemblies of God. When it became independent, the Pastor chose the name "Extreme Life" to appeal to the young Generation Z crowd. The services have a real rock concert feel to them. Ransom groaned.
The concession stand in the church lobby had been converted to a coffee bar. Ransom ordered a cold chocolate banana milk, endorphinated, of course. He wondered if he was the only person there who wished that they sold beer at church.

Ransom's craving for chemical release only grew stronger. He hated being there. He could remember a time when he rejoiced when they said let us go to the house of The Lord. When he was a teenager, he was very attentive to the pastors, especially the youth pastor. He would enthusiastically take notes and read his Bible afterwards. It was nice, having passion for something, believing, and belonging. Now it seemed all he could do was criticize, find fault. He was dissatisfied with the Church. With everything. Maybe he had caught an "evil spirit" or something. Who knows.

The so-called revival was basically a bunch of speakers parading onto the stage, one by one, each giving their reasons why the world was about to end very soon, Whether it was about the evils of telepresence (especially teledildonic cybersex.) Or the endemic problems of terrorism in the third world. Or the disproportionate concentration of wealth among the upper class. Or the American government's tolerance of sinful lifestyles. One particular ignorant individual expressed his opinion that life extension technologies were an evil violation of God's will. After he was through speaking, the Extreme Life Pastor got up and reminded the congregation that every single speaker does not necessarily represent the views of the church.
It seemed to Ransom that with the right obscure passage from the books of Daniel or Revelation, twisted and spun in just the right manner, any world news headline could be turned into a sign that God's wrath was about to be loosed on a wicked world just about ready to go to Hell in a handbasket. But not to worry because at the sound of a trumpet all of the truly faithful will instantly disappear, leaving behind nothing but a neatly folded stack of clothes. Only those left behind will have to worry about the resulting chaos. The injustice of the world would no longer be our problem. Even if we are just a little bit indirectly responsible for said injustice. Feh.
Ransom recognized the last speaker. It was Hal LaVaye, the guy from the Armageddon in Dallas program. He wore a look of seriousness on his face. Ransom had been to enough fundie churches to recognize when someone was about to give a hellfire and brimstone sermon. After a few minutes of chit-chat about the unseasonably warm weather he got right to the point. "Friends, time is running short for this world. The depravity and violence is becoming so great that I am sure God can't hold back his anger much longer. He hears the cry of the innocent. And what is it that angers God the most? It is the lack of respect for human life and human dignity. Murder is redefined because the term, human life, has become relative. There is an endemic holocaust in this world that has become so widespread that it is even now tolerated in countries that are dominated by the legalistic false faith of Islam. When I was a young man, people did this for convenience. Now they do it for profit."
The large screen behind LaVaye lit up. It was an image of a quite alien looking body. A large head, a small spindly body, pink translucent skin. The lowest part of the abdomen was cut open.
"What you see behind me is a murdered child. Sometime during the second trimester, she was removed from the womb and killed before she ever had a chance for life. Her gonads were scooped out and sent to a lab to be harvested for stem cells. This baby girl is just one of thousands of nameless innocents whose blood is crying out to God for justice. And our society has become so depraved that we can commit murder just by renaming a human being a fetus. Have we forgotten what a human being is?"
Ransom had heard all of this before. He knew that this guy wanted to instill a controlled righteous indignation in the audience. And by the looks of the faces of the people around him, it seemed to be working.
"Now I know what you all out there are thinking. You're saying, Brother Hal, this is absolutely horrible, this killing, this moral bankruptcy. All those people out there committing murder out there in the name of convenience and quote, unquote, medical therapy. Oh, Brother Hal, I'm so glad I'm not a part of this holocaust." He paused, took off his glasses and lowered his head. "The Spirit of God is grieved, friends. He is grieved because many of you are a part of this holocaust."
Ransom saw a look of shock on many of the faces around him. But he knew where Brother Hal was going with this. "Of course you've never gone to the abortion clinic and sold the life of your child to a cell bank. But many of you have received treatment, cellular therapy. Can you say where the donor cells you received came from. You, your parents, your grandparents. How do you know whether or not part of grandpa's body was once a part of the baby girl behind me? Every cell bank and cellular treatment center in the United States is guilty. Even ones that claim to be against abortion, like those run by The Seventh Day Corporation. They will still purchase donor cells from an abortion if they deem it necessary. They're basically contracting someone else to do the dirty work for them.
"And what about you young ladies? You need to pay off your student loans, or you need a down payment on a car. So what do you do? You go to the cell bank and make a little money selling your eggs. Oh, but, Brother Hal, you say, that isn't abortion. It's just an egg. Well what do you think they do with those eggs?!"
The preacher had managed to turn his face red. Whereas before he was trying to make the audience angry or scared, now guilt was his tool. He was certainly working this crowd.
"When I was a missionary to China, I had the great displeasure of touring a cytology lab owned by UC&C. I will never forget that day as long as I live. It was a scene straight out of a horror movie. Body parts growing in vats and petri dishes. Lungs. Livers. They had these tiny skeletons growing in jars. No flesh, no organs. Just a skeleton waiting to be harvested for bone marrow.
"Most of you have seen that famous picture of the mouse with a human head growing out of it's back. Don't worry, I'm not going to show it. That's too disgusting. I'm just mentioning it to show you what's going on in China, and more every day, the United States. It's no wonder, however, that China leads the world in abortions. And that they produce the most products harvested from murder. That country is absolutely godless. Even though the communist party holds nowhere near the amount of power they once had, the country is still just as atheistic as ever. Christianity holds almost no influence over there."
Almost involuntarily Ransom spoke out, "What about the Transadventist movement?" He had to bite his tongue to keep from adding, "you jackass." to the end of that. But even though he practiced restraint, shocked audience members were turning their heads to see who dared question Brother Hal. Brother Hal would have to answer, tho. There were Transadventist churches all over China, and indeed the world. The Transadventist church has consistently been the fastest growing church of the twenty-first century.
"Ah yes, that's a good point. Yes, there is a Transadventist influence in China. There are things I admire about the Transadventists. I think they do some good things. However there are certain dogmas in their denominational doctrine that I find are not in complete agreement with a true commitment to God. Any church that is so fond of compromise, especially in the matter of murdered children, is considered suspect in my book. In some ways, Transadventism, and Seventh-Day Adventism, out of which Transadventism evolved, they are not unlike a cult. Just as I've said in the past that Roman Catholicism is not unlike a cult."
Ransom could not believe what he was hearing. He had friends who were Transadventists and Catholics. According to this schmuck, those people were cultists. Ransom glanced behind his back and saw two men in red blazers having a discussion. Both men stopped for a second and took a good look at him. Ransom knew what those security guards were discussing. It would be best not to ask any more questions.

In the crush of people in the lobby, Ransom had managed to get separated from Danny Rodriguez. Everyone was crowding around Hal LaVaye and the other speakers to shake their hands and maybe say a word or two. Ransom was a pretty big guy. He had trouble maneuvering through crowds because he was always overly worried about accidentally trampling someone and looking like a bully. He worked his way around the room until he noticed that the crowd had gotten considerably shorter and younger. A mob of children was pushing forward, wanting to meet the celebrities of the puppet ministry, a pair a five foot tall monsters with blue and pink fur respectively. They were shaking hands and giving kisses to giggling and squealing kids. The monsters were not costumed actors, but rather animatronic robots that must have cost a shit load of money. These children really seemed to like them. Ransom wondered how many of the kids realized that the object of their affections was a soulless machine.
He heard someone calling his name, but it was a kid's voice. "Hey! Officer Ransom!"
He turned and looked down at the wide eyes of an excited young boy who was staring back at him while tightly gripping the armrests of his wheelchair. Ransom strained his memory. I know this kid. Where do I know him? What's his name?
"Jamie?"