A Wonderful World

The End of Times

A Wonderful World
The End of Times
Concept by
Brad Simon & Robert Simon
Written by
Jack Staples
AARON
TUMBRY
soci al adder. co | 3 2 3 . 4 1 8 . 2 0 2 2
e Socialadder
Los Angeles
The Singularity denotes an event that will take place in the material world,
the inevitable next step in the evolutionary process that started with bio-
logical evolution and has extended through human-directed technological
evolution. However, it is precisely in the world of matter and energy that
we encounter transcendence, a principal connotation of what people refer
to as spirituality.
- Ray Kurzweil
So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He
took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a
calf, fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, These are your gods, Israel,
who brought you up out of Egypt.
- Exodus 32
1
Sara Brunson was nearly asleep, leaning against a table full of switchboards
and plastic buttons, when the light came on. Sara had been at the lab since six
oclock that morning. The rest of her workmates left at three because it was a
Friday in the summer and everyone agreed to leave at three oclock on Fridays
in the summer. No one took the project seriously, Sara thought, because no
one belieed they were close. Sara knew dierently, and the nashing light that
just appeared went a long way to proving it.
Its not that Saras colleagues werent brilliant. They all were in their own
rights. But each scientist of the super team had their own lives and their
own projects. For everyone but Sara, Project Fish came in a distant second.
Sara had just ended a proessorship that spanned Fe years. She was working
on her book about the Green Robot, she was always working on her book,
but it wasnt anywhere near completion and, honestly, she wasnt sure where
to go with it. She had covered the theories she wanted to cover, described
the applicable experiments and their results, composed a beautiful chapter
written in plain language about how these theories would change everyones
lives, save the planet from self-destruction, and it was still under ninety pages.
Maybe it wasnt a book. Maybe it was an article.
Either way, Sara felt that her colleagues took the grant money on a whim
whereas she was in desperate need of something to focus on. She dove into
Project Fish with more gusto than anyone else. Her colleagues had serious
discussions in the morning, focused their formidable intellect at the problem
until lunchtime, and then the room became a boys club. Many of them went
to college together and they had the tendency to tell inside jokes for most of
the afternoon. Sara was older and guessed that they were learning to ride a
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bike while she was walking for her diploma.
Sara was one hundred and twenty six years old. Her colleagues were all
under seventy and it was obvious that they expected to live forever. They were
probably right. It was entirely probable that Sara was of the last generation to
die. She received her injections when she was seventy-two years old, a series
o shots containing serum Flled with tiny computers as small as blood cells.
She was Flled with these tiny computers, eeryone was Flled with them, and
they monitored her health. She was one o the Frst people to eer receie
the serum which was newly patented at the time. Though they couldnt stop
the breakdown of the cells, they slowed the aging process dramatically. So
much so, that Sara didnt look much older than she did the year she received
the treatment. While the technology could slow the aging process, it could
not reverse it. No one knew for sure, but Sara would be considered lucky if
she lived passed one hundred and seventy. Saras Green Robot theories called
for brain transplants into environmentally friendly machines, but it was pie
in the sky.
Sara imagined that the other scientists on Project Fish felt bad for her.
They were seven or eight decades old but had no wrinkles on their skin.
All o them had ull heads o hair and the muscular deFnition o someone
in the prime of their lives. As things were, they could expect to live nearly
Fe hundred years. And that was i technological adances in gerontology
froze right now. Of course, that wouldnt happen. Technology always
gets better; that is what it does. The human body grows from birth until
the age of twenty-four. At twenty-four the growing process ends and the
decaying process begins. The body was living and now it is dying. Everyone
who received their injections before the age of twenty-four could, barring a
physical accident, expect to live nearly forever.
Eternal life changed attitudes and concepts of time. The men Sara was
working with were the most brilliant and driven people of their generation.
But they felt no need to accomplish something in the course of a day, a week,
a month. A year meant almost nothing to them. They knew, since a very
young age, that they would have plenty of years to accomplish what they
wanted to accomplish. Project Fish was a three-year grant. This timeframe
was a joke. The society who funded it had extra money that they needed to
donate or lose to taxes. It was a vacation for Saras colleagues but for Sara,
who might only hae Fty more years to lie, the success or ailure o Project
lish could deFne her career.
This is why Sara was here at eight oclock at night, long after her colleagues
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A WONDERFUL WORLD
had gone to dinner, had drinks, fallen asleep in the arms of their beautiful
wives. This desperate need to mark her life with accomplishment kept her in
the lab at all hours, ostracized her from her young colleagues. It drove her to
the brink of damaging obsession.
Sara pushed herself up from the switchboard. Her joints creaked as she
stretched the sleep from her body. She had fallen asleep when it was still light
outside and now the room was darker, a yellow bulb in the hallway casting
the room a dusky gray. She rubbed her eyes and looked again at the machine
across the room to make sure that she wasnt dreaming.
Project Fish was a black box made of recycled scrap. Sara tried to use
recycled products in all of her work, and this particular piece of scrap was
made from a wood chopper, with the numbers 12-18-24 engraved in the back
as a kind of serial number. The top of the box opened exposing a complicated
circuit board. There was a mechanical arm extending from the left side of
Project lish, sterling siler with an elbow joint and our long Fngers. 1here
was a chord running from the back of the box with a three-pronged plug left
intentionally out of the wall. Project Fish was given power when they were
working on him but was left unplugged at all other times. On a small table
next to Project Fish was an old record player with the top propped open. The
record player was made o Fnished wood with gold colored metal decorating
its sides. The record player reminded Sara of her childhood, dancing in the
living room with her parents, but right now she was focused on the black box.
Though Project Fish was unplugged, a green light on the front of the box
was blinking. In the dull light and quietness of the lab, it had been enough to
wake Sara up.
The light stopped blinking and turned a solid green. Sara was fully awake
now, numb with excitement. ler Fngers tingled as she walked towards Project
Fish and her vision was watery. Sara stopped a few feet away and became lost
in Project Fish like a woman in the Louvre might become lost in Monets
water lilies. 1he mechanical arm on the side o the box came to lie. It nexed,
making a small whirring sound as it moved, and then drifted over towards the
record player. The arm picked up the needle and brought the player to life.
The record on the turntable began to spin lazily. The arm lowered the needle
and staccato guitar notes burst from nowhere.
Well, hello, Dolly
This is Louis, Dolly
Its so nice to have you back where you belong
1he music Flled the lab with a warm aura and Sara elt her soul bubbling
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over, like a bottle of shaken champagne. Project Fish loved the song Hello,
Dolly. They had programmed him this way. Project Fish had tasks that he
had to complete and talents. He was a grandmaster in chess and was made
to play opposing computers and sometimes human competitors throughout
the day. He was made to solve complicated math problems and was able to
Fx dierent types o machinery. Sara and her colleagues packed as much
information as they could into Project Fishs mechanical mind. Project Fish
was told that these tasks were work and while work was good and important,
there was also play. When Project Fish did something especially well, he was
allowed to listen to his record.
All of this was done in the hope that Project Fish would do what Sara
had just witnessed him doing. Project Fish had been told that he was done
for the day. There was no more work, he could rest for the night and he was
unplugged. But somewhere amidst the electric chips of his mind, Project
Fish wanted to hear the song. He had an independent desire. He accessed
his backup battery pack, came to life and made Louis Armstrongs scratchy
oice Fll the lab. It was not just that Project lish had done it, it was that he
had decided to do it. He wanted something and made the decision to have
it. This made all the difference. It was the mission statement of the project:
Gie a man a Fsh and he will eat or a day. 1each a man to Fsh and he will
always have food.
Project Fish could think now. He could think and make decisions. What
food would Project Fish catch, Sara wondered as tears of happiness came to
her eyes. What would he decide to have?
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2
John walked out behind the pulpit and noticed Rachel sitting in the front
pew. He smiled at everyone in the church as the organ blared but raised his
eyebrows to Rachel. Rachel wore a stunning black dress and a look on her
face that John supposed was an attempt at piety. John hoped that she would
refrain from taking pictures during the service. She could take as many as she
liked afterward, but the sanctity of the service needed to be respected.
John said good morning to everyone in the church and began with some
announcements about different church members and planned events. The
congregation was mostly old with a few younger kids here and there that
had come from up North. The church was a Southern relic left over from
the days before the Singularity. It wasnt large by any means, people were
left standing on many Sundays, but it had a certain charm that John felt was
better than size. The outside was red brick with some tasteful stained glass on
the second noor. 1he inside carpet was thin and red. A green strip ran down
the center aisle where John would walk with a few altar boys holding wooden
crosses on special days of the year. On normal Sundays he merely came out
from the back room while the opening hymn played. He liked to save the
fanfare for the special days.
1here were oer Fty pews in the church and it could seat something
like three hundred people. The organ was a cheap thing that had been in the
church or nearly seenty-Fe years. It was hopelessly out o tune but John
liked to joke that their singing was also hopeless and they were therefore a
perfect match. The sour songs rose to the ceiling of the church between huge
wooden ballasts and echoed shrilly back upon the congregation, like a mangy
mutt that only its owner could love.
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1here were a ew prayers and then the Frst and second readings. John let
members of the congregation deliver these readings and he sat by quietly as
they stuttered and mispronounced their way through the passages.
John had a loud voice. His mother used to say that God forgot to give
him a whisper. But whispering was for people who had things to hide and
John believed everything should be out in the open. When people told him
he was too loud he would raise his voice on purpose, really push his words
out into the world, and they would have to hear what he had to say. The old
man delivering the second reading said Amen and walked back to his place in
the pews. Now it was time for the real show.
The organ blared and John rose from his seat. He was solemn now and
walked behind the pulpit to read the Gospel. It was one of his favorite
passages, the one where Jesus cleanses the temple of the moneylenders. John
could see the purpose of their church in almost any Bible passage, but he
thought the story of Jesus and the moneylenders was particularly poignant
to their cause.
He read, And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all of
them who sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the
moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them,
It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made
it a den of thieves.
John Fnished the passage and closed his large, ornate Bible. le let the
cover fall with a thud that resounded throughout the church. Someone
coughed in the back pews and John resisted the temptation to look up. He
really wanted to see what Rachel was doing and he wanted to capture her
facial expression before the sermon so that he could see how it changed after
hearing it.
My house, John said slowly. My house shall be called the house of
prayer.
The pews were silent except for the sole person quietly coughing in the
back. John chanced a look at Rachel. Her head was down, almost as if she
were in a state of contemplation, but John knew that was not the case. He
wondered if Rachel was recording the sermon and this thought made his
breath catch in the back of his throat.
In the story it is clear that Jesus is referring to the temple as his fathers
house and that he believes the temple should be a place to worship God and
nothing else. There is no place for money inside the temple. But as we know,
as weve discussed many times in this building, the stories of the Bible are
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A WONDERFUL WORLD
both literal and metaphorical. Did the events in the Bible actually happen
as they are described? Yes. Yes, they did. But if we read the stories of the
Bible as a dry history we are missing out on Gods plan. These stories were
important in the days just after Jesus death. They were important during the
dominance of Rome. They were important during the Black Plague. They
were important during the Revolutionary War. They were important during
the Industrial Revolution and they are important today in the face of the
Singularity.
It is not a mistake that the lessons of these stories can be applied to
every generation. The actual events were constructed by God himself and
therefore will never be irrelevant.
My house shall be called a house of prayer. Is Gods house our church?
Yes. God resides here with us and hears us when we gather to worship. But
where else does God reside? What else does he call his house? Is not the
entire planet Gods house? Yes, it is. Is not the whole universe Gods house?
Yes. Does God even live inside us? He does. God lives inside us. Our bodies
are the house of God. Our bodies are temples. And when you put machinery
into your body you are going against Gods Will. He has a plan for your life
and you are straying from the path by unnatural processes.
John paused here and took a drink from a glass of water he kept on the
pulpit.
Just the other day I read that a young man set a record for the most
amount o time spent in a irtual reality. le awoke rom a Fe-year stint
strapped into a chair, wires inserted into his body, living in a world created
by computer programmers. Is the world the Lord created for you not good
enough? Do computer programmers have to spend countless hours building
a new one so that all your lewdest antasies can be ulFlled 1he young man`s
mind went into shock. His muscles had atrophied like a coma patient and he
may never walk again.
God will correct this. Believe me, he will. He will overthrow the tables
of the moneylenders. If you have made your body into a den of thieves; I
dont care if you live twenty years or two hundred, you will have to answer
to God.
John paused here and looked directly at Rachel. Rachel was deFnitely
recording the sermon. John could see her tapping something on the side of
his head, adjusting. John`s ace was a mask o Fre and brimstone.
This is the Word of the Lord.
It was a beautiful day and John strolled down the sidewalk toward his
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house still in his robes. John lived less than three blocks from his church
and had or nearly Fteen years. le was happy to be so close to where he
preached, his father never had that luxury. The old man used to drive from
parish to parish, sometimes more than three hours away, to Fll in or a pastor
that could not attend. He never had a church of his own, Johns father, and
this had made Johns childhood nomadic. John heard footsteps behind him
but did not slow down.
Pastor John! Rachel called out. Pastor John, wait up.
John kept walking and let Rachel catch up with him. Rachel was a reporter
from Circuit, a major computer lifestyle magazine out of New York City. She
had been living just outside of Solomon for over three months. She was here
speciFcally to interiew John. John Fnally stopped walking when he was on
the threshold of his front porch.
Rachel, John said. How is life in the hotel?
Good,` Rachel said. 1hey Fnished the construction and I can Fnally
sleep passed ten in the morning.
Thank God for small blessings.
I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. Rachel held
out her hands, palms up. Rachel wore a brittle smile, like an unpopular child
asking out the head cheerleader.
Rachel asked John nearly every day for an interview and John regularly
declined. In the time that Rachel had been on the job John had interviewed
with her three times. He was about to turn Rachel down again but reconsidered.
The girl had come to church and listened to his sermon. Maybe they could
talk about that. Besides, she was doing a job and trying her best. Isnt that
what every good Christian was supposed to do?
Well sit on the porch, John said. Just let me change.
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3
Ten minutes later John was wearing overalls and sitting in a rocking
chair while Rachel leaned against the railing staring at him, feeling suddenly
overdressed in her black number. Teresa came out with a tray containing two
sandwiches and two cups of iced tea, tall and cool, the glasses fogged with
condensation. Teresa was gorgeous and blonde, maybe ten years younger
than John. Though Rachel was considered attractive herself, she felt dwarfed
by Teresas beauty. Rachel felt small and mousy in her presence. Rachel hated
the intimidation and sometimes spoke nippantly to her as a way to combat it.
How are you today, Rachel?
Swell, Mrs. Blackstone, she said.
Teresa kept smiling but faltered for a moment. She kissed John on the
cheek and turned to go.
You two have fun.
John watched her close the door and then turned to Rachel.
We can sense your sarcasm, Rachel.
How did you land that one? Rachel asked as if she hadnt heard Johns
comment.
John picked up his glass of iced tea and sipped it.
I dont understand you, John said. Youve been following me around
for months asking for an interview and when I grant you one you insult my
family.
It`s an interiewing technique I`e deeloped,` Rachel said. SpeciFcally
or amous people. I I was always oerly polite, you`d Fnd it easy to ignore
me and I wouldnt be in your mind. But if I treat you like youre a normal
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person I stick out from everyone else and you end up liking me more.
And how has your technique been working?
Horribly.
Rachel picked up a sandwich off the tray and took a bite. She pulled a
device out of her pocket and clicked through a few screens reading snippets
of information on each one. She looked up a moment later.
One of these was for me, right? she asked, holding up her sandwich.
You have half an hour and then Im taking my son to the park.
Rachel gulped down her sandwich and slipped her device back into her
pocket. She pulled glasses out of her purse and placed them on her nose.
Her hair was thick and brown and strung back in a ponytail. Her glasses were
for both sight and Internet access and she touched the rims once, pushing a
small button, setting her recorder.
How old is your son? Rachel asked.
Is this part of the interview?
Im recording it if thats what you mean. Im just talking, thats all.
Hes four.
Only one child?
Yes.
How do you think his childhood is compared to your own?
Well, we moved around a lot when I was young, John said. You and I
have talked about my father before. He was a visionary. He saw the Singularity
for what it was long before it was relevant to most of the world. He insisted
on preaching about it and many churches felt uncomfortable with him. So we
moved around a lot. I think Charlies life is probably a lot more stable than
mine was.
Does Charlie understand who you are?
What do you mean? Im his father.
I mean does he understand your stature. Does he understand what the
world thinks of you?
What does the world think of me?
Do you want the nice answer or the not-so-nice answer? Rachel asked.
Both.
The nice answer is that they think youre a crackpot. The mean answer
is that youre making your family and all the people of Solomon sick and are
leading them to a very early grave.
Do you think Im a crackpot? John asked.
I dont really know what crackpot means. Youre not crazy, I dont think.
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And do you think Im leading Solomon to an early death?
Well, Rachel paused. You are. These people will die much earlier than
they would if they had the injections.
John rocked in his chair and drank more of his iced tea. There were clouds
moving slowly overhead. His grass needed cut and he might do it today after
he took Charlie to the park for a good while. Or maybe tomorrow.
This place is amazing, though, Rachel said.
Do you mean my house?
Yeah, your house. All of Solomon. Its like a city of the past in an
amusement park. Its like you can walk into the last century.
Its only been twenty years since the Singularity, John said.
You know what I mean. Its antiquated.
How long do you think it will take until what you know as modern
becomes antiquated?
Probably not long, Rachel admitted. But I wont know it because Ill
have moved on. Ill adopt whatever lifestyle is next. Whatever lifestyle makes
the most sense.
John nodded, This is why it is so sad to be conservative. You can only
win the short term battles. In the long run liberalism will win every time.
You consider yourself conservative, I assume, Rachel said.
Of course, John answered.
Why do you think conservatism can never win in the long run? Rachel
asked.
Because of the false prophet called Progress.
Do you like being a tragic Fgure I you know your ideals will eentually
lose, why back them?
Because there is the short term, which a conservative has the ability to
win, there is the long term, which he does not, and then there is eternity.
Conservatives will be looked upon favorably when eternity comes.
Charlie was napping and so Teresa had to fold the laundry. She was glad
there was laundry to fold because it calmed her. Folding Charlies clothes was
particularly calming, but Teresa wasnt sure why. It might be because they
were so small. She liked the resh smell o the detergent dried into the Fbers
of the clothes and she liked the organized process, both sleeves in, directly in
half, in half again, add to the pile. She needed calming now because she knew
that Rachel was still on the porch and she could not relax in her presence. She
saw the way Rachel looked at her.
Teresa heard a noise and sighed. Was Charlie awake already? It had only
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been orty-Fe minutes. Charlie took long naps in the aternoon, nearly two
hours. But some days he would not. On the days that he would not nap
Charlie was ornery and cried easily. It was trying and Teresa dreaded dealing
with him. Besides, she still had a lot of housework to do and she didnt want
to Fx Charlie`s lunch yet. But there was little she could do about it. I he was
up, he was up. She folded the last tiny shirt and walked out of the laundry
room and into the kitchen. Rachel was there and she was listening at the
basement door.
Teresa stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and Rachel didnt hear her.
Teresa looked around the kitchen and down into the hallway but John was
not around. Rachel was in the house unsupervised. A cold feeling blossomed
in Teresas chest, like an ice cube dropped in tea. Rachel knew what was going
on. She was standing at the basement door because she knew their secret.
Teresa could stop her, she could yell at her for being in the house, but that
would not stop the fact that she knew.
Are you looking for something, Rachel?
Rachel`s body ninched and she backed away rom the door.
Teresa. Hey. I was looking for the bathroom.
Theres no bathroom down there, she said. You need to go upstairs.
But be quiet. Charlie is just waking up.
Rachel nodded her head. She looked like she was about to say something
in way of apology but she did not. She walked up the stairs slowly trying to
avoid the creaks in the steps and into the bathroom. Teresa listened until she
heard the door close. Charlie had quieted down. Perhaps he would nap longer
after all. Teresa did not go back to the laundry but walked out onto the porch.
John was sitting in the rocking chair smoking and looking down the street at
something.
You let Rachel in the house?
She needed to use the bathroom.
She was listening at the basement door.
\as she` John said. le inhaled his cigarette and kept his eyes Fxed on
a spot down the street. Teresa looked at her husband, rocking in the chair,
wearing overalls, smoking his hand-rolled cigarettes. He looked old. There
were wrinkles on his forehead and crows feet at the ends of his eyes. His
hair was graying on the sides and he was only thirty-Fe. A baby. It was
times like this that she realized the immensity o the sacriFce he was making,
the sacriFce they were all making, and it rightened her. It rightened her
that they were following a man who was so reckless that he would allow
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an embarrassment like the one in their basement to put everything at risk.
If the town found out it would be a problem. But if Rachel found out and
published it in Circuit magazine, it would be a scandal so large that it would
be the end o Solomon as they knew it. And then, what had all the sacriFce
been for?
What are you looking at, John?
Mrs. Sterling, he said. Shes taking out her trash.
I see her, Teresa said. She watched their old neighbor dragging a white
bag out to the curb. She had white wispy hair and seemed to wear the same
dress every day, faded blue with chrysanthemums dotting the hem. Mrs.
Sterling saw them watching and waved.
But did you hear what I said? Teresa asked. I think Rachel knows.
I shouldnt tell you this, but a few months ago Mrs. Sterling came to me
for confession. She was very upset, said she hadnt slept for days.
What was the matter? Teresa asked. She knew that her concern was
lost. John had heard the question and he might later come back to it, but
he was wading in his own thoughts now and the current was too strong to
consider anything else.
It was something from her youth that had been troubling her. I dont
know why she chose this time to confess. It was near the anniversary of her
husbands death and shed never told him. That could be it, John shook his
head at these ponderings. Sometimes Gods ways are so obvious. If youve
sinned, guilt will attack you. God made your mind and there is a failsafe
against sin. Its so obvious, but people can live their entire lives without seeing
it. Taking pills and learning meditations to combat guilt. You dont want to
Fght guilt, you want to listen to it. Guilt is wise.`
What did she do? Teresa asked.
She gave away a baby. She had a baby with another man, out of wedlock,
before she married Mr. Sterling.
Oh, dear. She gave it up for adoption?
No. She drove into the city, into Atlanta, and left it in the street. She
doesnt know if it even lived or not.
Thats horrible, Teresa said. John, thats just awful.
Yes. But look at her. Shes living. Shes functioning. Shes had a long life
and a good marriage.
Teresa watched the old lady close her front door, not believing the evil
that lived down the street from them all this time. She didnt understand
Johns point and she wished he hadnt told her. She wished she could expunge
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the information from her mind and go back to knowing Mrs. Sterling as the
old lady who gave Charlie lollypops on Easter.
Its hard to deal with, isnt it? John said. Teresa realized that her face was
contorted in consternation.
Its shocking.
Yes. But isnt Gods plan brilliant? He takes something evil, which is sin,
then applies guilt so that we confess. Then, with our confession he cleanses
the sinner and tests those who hear the confession. By listening to Mrs.
Sterlings confession, I was tested. You are being tested right now.
John sat up in his chair and looked into Teresas eyes.
Teresa, he said, can you forgive her?
Tears came to Teresas eyes. John saw things so clearly sometimes that
it knocked the breath from her. She felt the test, she felt the revulsion for
another human being and she knew this feeling was wrong.
I can forgive her, Teresa said.
Can you love her? John asked.
I can love her.
Rachel opened the screen door and walked sheepishly out onto the porch.
It was obvious that shed heard a good deal of their conversation. Teresa
stood with her arms folded over her chest and her shoulders hunched. Rachel
Fddled with her glasses, checking something on the Internet while 1eresa and
John composed themselves. John took one more hit from his cigarette and
put it out in an ashtray next to his rocking chair. He stood up and stretched.
It was good having you, Rachel. How long are you going to be in town?
Rachel smiled and took Johns extended hand in hers, You really dont
read the articles?
No, John said. I really dont.
Im here for as long as theres a story, John. Im going to be here for a
long time, I think.