Peripheral Visions: G.O.D.

Peripheral Visions: They coalesce in the soft blur of darkest shadows and take shape in the corner of your eye. But you won't see them coming... until it's too late.

G.O.D.

"Pastor Terry guarantees eternal life at the right hand of the LORD," the animated seraphim said in vibra, the soundless words registering on Sandy's inner ear. "But his holy offer is available only to those who qualify. The good book says that many may be called, but only the few shall be chosen. Will you be one of them? Will you qualify? Make your free appointment today to come in to any one of our Ascension Centers and find out!"

The smiling seraphim floated above a tab that flashed ACCEPT.

"Jonas?" Sandy said, her voice trembling with excitement.

Her husband, sitting next to her, glanced over at her aeroscreen and laughed.

"I see those ads all the time on the bus," he said. "I didn't think they'd be allowed in church."

"But why not?" Sandy asked. "If he's doing the work of God..."

"We should ask Pastor about it," Jonas said. "After the way the Dominionists tried to take over, we can't just trust anyone who says they want to guide up on the path to righteousness. The book also says that many false prophets will lead the unwary up the garden path, and straight into Perdition."

"Oh!" Sandy shrank back from the word and clutched her husband's arm. "Jonas! Don't say such things! We're in church, after all!"

Jonas laughed and patted her white-knuckled hand. "It's okay," he reassured her. "God won't punish us for being strong and smart and rejecting all those who come in His name but who do the work of the Fiery One."

Sandy nodded, though his words sparked a touch of sadness in her. "The Fiery One..." That was the reason Primus Kirsch had given for his order to execute all red-haired people in the country, including her brother. She had wept when he died with all the others on the public square, cut down by the Cleansers with their AK-49s. He had always been so kind, so funny, her protector and best friend. But then she had steeled herself to the cause: Satan could fool you in just those ways, after all. It was like Father had said, and Mother had agreed: Wherever the seed of the Fiery One took hold, it had to be rooted out with force and purified with blood. He hadn't wept to see his son slaughtered with all the others, and neither should she.

"But it's here in the church," she said again. "God would never allow The Fiery One into His sanctified home."

Jonas looked back at the aeroscreen and the animated seraphim, flapping its wings and hovering above the flashing ACCEPT tab. He reached over and flicked the ad out of existence.

"We'll talk to Pastor after the service," he told her.

***

"You know," Pastor told the young couple three hours later, after serving them tea in his luxuriously-appointed office, "years ago a spiritual leader would have told you that you have a responsibility to God to fulfill the commandment to 'Be fruitful and multiply.' But ever since the birth rate crashed that's changed."

"Are you gonna tell us that God is saying there are enough people on the Earth?" Jonas asked.

"No, certainly not," Pastor said quickly. "That's never been the position of our church and never will be."

"But isn't it true?" Sandy asked.

Jonas looked at her with a frown on his face.

"Sandy, my dear, God only ever wants to increase life and happiness," Pastor said. "We can't do that if we don't have babies."

"But they say that there are too many people, and that's why there isn't enough food or water," Sandy said.

"Sandy," Jonas said, his tone of voice stern.

"Those are humanist lies," Pastor said. "Humanists think everything comes down to math. More people, fewer resources? To them it's a simple-minded conclusion that there are 'too many people.' But the word of God is absolute and eternal."

"So why aren't very many babies being born any more?" Sandy asked, and even Jonas looked as though he wanted to hear an answer to the question.

"We've been trying for more than a year," Jonas said softly. "Ever since we got married."

"I see." Pastor folded his hand serenely and smiled.

"Are we..." Jonas hesitated. "Are we being punished?"

Pastor sighed.

"We try to be righteous," Jonas said. "I can't think of anything we ever did to make God hate us this way."

"But thinking you haven't done anything wrong is pride," Sandy said. "Maybe that's why God hates us, Jonas."

Pastor raised a hand. "No," he said. "God doesn't hate you. God only hates Satan Stock. You know – dark people. Heathens. Witches." Looking in intently at Jonas as Sandy dropped her gaze, waiting until she wouldn't see in order to spare her frail femininity from the monstrous word, Pastor shaped "Sodomites" with silent lips, and Jonas nodded.

"But," Pastor said aloud, "God is punishing us, yes. Not you personally... not the righteous... but all humanity for the sins of the recalcitrant."

"Socialists," Jonas said.

"Yes," Pastor nodded. "But also humanists."

"Right," Jonas said.

"And women who won't mind their place," Pastor said.

"Amen," Sandy said.

"Why would God give children to women who refuse to be decent, kind, and caring mothers, or meek and submissive wives?" Pastor said.

"Amen," Jonas said.

"While it is never the position of the church to say that there are too many people, it clearly is God's will that humanity be severed from procreational privileges," Pastor added. "The sins of our fathers have caught up with us."

"It's all those chemicals in the water," Sandy said.

"What?" Jonas turned to his wife with a look of shock. "Who told you that?" Jonas shot Pastor a frantic, apologetic look. "I don't know where she could have heard that, Pastor. We don't associate with the kind of people who believe in... in science." He said the word as a soft, reluctant hiss, with the same distaste Pastor had mouthed the word sodomites a moment earlier.

"Now," Pastor said, holding up a hand again, "let's remember: Satan finds the cracks in our fortress walls. The serpent slithers in where we fail to see a weakness in our defenses. This is good, Jonas, because it's not a husband's job to stop Satan from getting in. It's his job to be sure that when Satan does get in, his wife – and his family, should he be blessed enough to have one – is properly prepared to reject and resist temptation, blasphemy, and, above all, reason."

"The enemy of faith," breather Sandy, her face reddening. "Oh, Pastor! I'm sorry! I didn't realize..."

"It's all right child," Pastor said, though still looking at Jonas. "It's not your fault. You don't know any better. You're only a woman."

"I'll do better, Pastor," Jonas said.

"I know you will, son," Pastor said. "But let me be clear about the answer to your question. The low birth rate can only be God's sign that the End Times have begun. And the bible tells us that the righteous will be saved – that they will be plucked up from the Earth before the time of great tribulations. We can see those times coming, can't we? Each summer hotter than the one before it. Migrants pressing in on all sides, besieging our borders, crying out in piteous voices for compassion but planning murder and chaos, planning to overrun our great nation. No," Pastor said, "we cannot stop them."

"Pastor!" Jonas said.

"No! We cannot!" Paster said emphatically. "The End Times are bigger than us. They, too, are part of God's plan. We can pray for salvation, but prayer is not enough. Action is needed."

"Shall I... shall I join one of the militias?" Jonas said. "Maybe see if I can be inducted into one of the kill squads?"

"No, my son, it's too late for that," Pastor said. "Getting shot or knifed or torn to pieces by a mob of migrants and malcontents while doing your sacred duty is one sure way to glory, but God has graced us with other ways, too. You wouldn't want to leave Sandy a widow, would you? An innocent woman of such fair complexion should not be left to fend for herself in this wanton world. No, Jonas, for you and Sandy the far better option is Ascension."

"So, the ad we saw playing on the pew's aeroscreen..."

"I allowed those ads," Pastor said, "because I can see the End Times are here, and because I am grateful to God for making it possible for couples like yourselves to Ascend peacefully... without violence, trauma, bloodshed, without a need to abandon your wife to the vicious abuses of a world gone mad. Every day our rights are being stripped away..."

"They are?" Sandy asked, looking up. "How? I thought with the Supreme Court now being replaced by the Theological Tribunal – "

"Oh, Sandy, there's so much more to justice than the courts," Pastor said.

"But we got rid of all the dark people," Sandy said, "and all the heathen practices... yoga, meditation, falcon gong, and tai-fu."

"Falun gong and tai-chi," Pastor corrected her gently. "Yes. The purge and the kill squads and the nation's return to gentle godliness corrected many wrongs. But not all... far from all."

"But... what's still wrong?" Sandy asked. "I don't understand. I thought we were finally one nation under God."

"We are," Pastor assured her.

"And our punishment was because of the last generation, and the one before them," Sandy said.

"Yes, but there are many sources of sin and division," Pastor said. "But this... all of this isn't for a woman's ears, or for her limited comprehension."

"Honey, don't you worry about all that," Jonas seconded. "You let me worry about the sins and wrongs of this world. You just concentrate on keeping our home safe."

"But why?" Sandy asked. "If we're not gonna have kids, why does it matter? Why shouldn't we go to God?"

Pastor clapped his hands and laughed. "There! You see? From the mouths of babes! Jonas, God is speaking through your wife. She may not understand, but divine guidance brought her attention to that ad, and she saw it was righteous."

***

Pastor Terry himself greeted the young couple when they arrived at the Ascension Center.

"My, my, what a fine and beautiful example of Pure Americana," Pastor Terry said, shaking Jonas' hand.

Jonas frowned at him suspiciously. "But... I know you."

"You do? Have we met?"

"No, I mean – "

"Oh, I know what you mean," Pastor Terry laughed heartily. "It's a little joke. I hear this all the time. People see me in person and they tell me that my avatar doesn't really look like me at all. And it doesn't! But that is God's work."

"How?" Jonas asked. "God wants you to lie about who you are?"

"Why, no, of course not," Pastor Terry said, still smiling. "Pastor Terry is who I am... now. Yes, people look at me and say: 'But you're Thierry Petersen, the corrupt billionaire, the man with the boat.' Yes, the boat..." Pastor Terry smiled wistfully. "Where there was all sorts of wickedness. But that's done now. And my money? It is cleansed, as is my soul. And you do know that it was my money that funded Kirsch's presidential campaign."

"Well... yes," Jonas said reluctantly.

"And you remember what an imperfect vessel Kirsch was," Pastor Terry told him. "How the doubters said God could never have chosen him to be His agent on Earth. And yet! Here we are. No one but Kirsch could have done it – changed the presidency into the primacy. Pulled the country back from the brink, rescued us from the folly of democracy and mob rule, and put on back on a moral footing."

"But I thought there were still problems," Sandy said. "Immorality. Sin."

Pastor Terry turned his beaming face toward her. "Your wife is so adorable," he said to Jonas. "So fierce."

"Yes," Jonas said darkly. "She doesn't know enough not to speak when she's not been spoken to."

"But Jonas, I just want to understand," Sandy said.

"If you were supposed to understand, God would have made you a man, honey," Jonas said, though his voice did not match the endearment. "And then we could never have been married. That would be unnatural."

Sandy lapsed back into silence, confused.

Pastor Terry chuckled forgivingly. "Ah, now, Jonas. Please, be touched by grace. I hear from your own pastor that it was your wife... Cherry? Darla? Eve?"

"Lilith," Jonas muttered, his face still screwed up in an expression of angry disappointment at her misbehavior.

"Sandy," Sandy spoke up.

"Why, yes, of course." Paster Terry took her hand in both of his. "Forgive your husband's belligerence, my dear. Even the most righteous of men sometimes do not hear the voice of God when it speaks through the lowly."

"Really?" Sandy asked.

"For it was you, I understand, who saw my Ascension service for what it is," Pastor Terry said. "A divine gift. Bestowed with inerrant timing."

Sandy looked at the floor, blushing, smiling.

Jonas forced himself to smile, as well. "She is a woman of great heart and flawless charity," he told Pastor Terry.

"Yes," the pastor responded, looking back at Jonas. "And as I can tell you, there's not a man jack among us... nor a woman, either... that is beyond the compassion of the Lord. It's my money – well, much of it is, though I do have a partnership with a technological venture capitalist, Caduceus Trimble... that has made this miracle possible."

"I thought God gave it to us," Sandy said.

Jonas' smile faltered.

Pastor Terry's did not. "Ah, yes, of course He did! Why, yes, of course! God gives us everything. He gave me success so that I could fund Kirsch's presidency and America could be transformed. And then he opened my eyes to His divine plan. And he guided me to Caduceus Trimble, who had the technological infrastructure as well as the money, and together... I mean, through us God wrought a miracle. Hardware and electrons and scanning software and transphasic crystal memory systems... all of it, the handiwork of God, with we humble disciples serving as His hands."

"What," Jonas asked slowly. "What is this technology? And what does it do?"

"It frees your thoughts... by which, I mean your soul... to fly directly to God," Pastor Terry said with simplicity and directness. His smile grew wider. "No more need a martyr suffer; no more need a soldier cry out with grievous wounds. Now your homecoming to the safety and love of God's embrace can be accomplished in a moment."

"Through a machine?" Jarod asked.

"What is eternal, Jonas?" Paster Terry asked. "It is not the flesh. Rather, it is light itself! Light! Electrons, if you will. And ours is a God of Light. The bible and all the prophets have always said so."

"Our God of Electrons," Sandy breathed in rapture.

"Yes," Pastor Terry said. "You see, Jonas? Your wife understands. Of course she does. God makes children and fools and women His messengers far more often than men, because men are too prideful to allow themselves the gift of His insight."

Jonas shifted from foot to foot, unsure what that meant.

"And now, here you both are," Pastor Terry said.

"But," Jonas said, "what's involved? Exactly, I mean?"

"You see what I mean?" Pastor Terry laughed. "Men are mechanically minded. They look for truth to be couched in answers, they look for the Celestial Joy to be spun by gear works... well, that's simply not the nature of God's love and the gifts He bestows from love."

"But..."

"No," Pastor Terry said. "You're here through the simple means of faith. And because God has ordained it. And it's you, my dear children, because God sees in you the instrument to bring His peace and salvation to your church. Even from Heaven, seated at the right hand of the Father, feasting at His table of eternal fulfillment, you will speak to your fellow congregants, and you will bring them into the fold."

"God's safety!" Sandy gasped. "His perpetual song!" Tears dripped from her chin as she lifted her shining eyes to meet Pastor Terry's and then to look heavenward.

"But..." Jonas began.

"Of course, all of this can only be true if you are qualified," Pastor Terry said. "But I have faith that God would not have brought you here if you were not. Still..." He lifted a hand, and Jonas saw that it held a calculator. "God smiles on those who remember that the Devil lurks in the details, and so pay attention to the details in order to keep the Devil at bay."

"What do you mean?" Jonas asked.

Pastor Terry's smile grew softer; his lips gleamed as though moistened with holy water. "How much do you have in the bank? In stocks or other investments? In real estate...?"

***

Once the calculations were done, Pastor Terry told Jonas and Sandy that their total net worth was somewhat below the Threshold for Ascension.

"But," he added, "just as God gave me this technological means to transport His best beloved and most faithful directly to His bosom, so He tells me now that you are His prophets." He winked. "And so not to worry about profits." Pastor Terry laughed.

"We... He does?" Jonas asked.

"I feel very sure God is anxious for you to be with Him, and for your work to begin."

"Our – our work?" Jonas asked.

"What the pastor said before," Sandy told him. "We'll be in the ads in the church! All our friends will see us. We'll be in Heaven, but of course we won't forget our Family in Christ."

"No, indeed you shall not," Pastor Terry said. "God would not want any at His side who would abandon their family in Christ to the coming perils. The time for this sacred work is now!"

"But – we need to go home and – "

"No, my son, no," Pastor Terry told him. "You are home, the last earthly home you will ever know. Because you stand on the very doorstep of God's Kingdom!"

Sandy grabbed his hand. "Oh! Jonas!" she said excitedly.

Jonas shook her off and spoke angrily. "Now, listen, Mr. Thierry – I don't mean to be rude, but – "

"Not at all," Pastor Terry said, as several hulking attendants seemingly materialized out of thin air and stepped forward to restrain Jonas. "You could never be rude. You're just suffering from your male pride. A sin of the flesh that no man can be free of. Which is why we must free your from your flesh today. This moment. Now."

"Oh! Jonas!" Sandy cried out again, joy ringing in her voice.

"But... but shouldn't there be contracts... papers to sign..."

"It's all covered," Pastor Terry said. "In your Oath to the Creed of Faith that you signed long ago. Your pastor has already transferred legal authority of your assets and your affairs, both pecuniary and bodily, to me. He, too, sees what I see: God's enormous love for you and His command that you join Him at once."

"But..."

Jonas said nothing more as he started struggling against the attendants.

A female attendant drifted up to Sandy, who was looking alarmed at her husband's efforts. "Be at peace, sister," the female attendant said. Like the three huge males who pinned Jonas' arms to his sides and lifted his feet from the ground and began carrying him away, she was dressed all in white. Unlike the men, who wore long-sleeved turtlenecks and neatly-pressed trousers, the female attendant was dressed in a gown made from layers of diaphanous cloth. She seemed to float within her own ethereal cloud. "Come with me," the female attendant said.

Jonas found his voice: "No!"

"Don't mind him," the female attendant told Sandy. "He's losing sight of God's will, substituting it with his own."

"I love him," Sandy said in a confidential manner to the female attendant, "but he does that sometimes."

The female attendant led Sandy away from Pastor Terry, who stood in place and watched them go, a soft smile on his face. The men carrying Jonas followed.

"Sandy! Run! Don't listen to them! This is all bullshit!" One of the male attendants clamped a hand over Jonas' mouth, but he writhed and broke free. "Sandy! I am your husband, and I command you!"

But Sandy didn't look back as the female attendant led her to a chamber with tall, tall doors. Within was a circular chamber. A throne-like chair sat in the middle of the room, in a pool of light. Above it was a conical shape. Sparkling, crystalline, the throne looked radiant under the brilliant spotlight.

The female attendant led Sandy to the throne, helped her settle in, and then strapped her in place.

"Your body might react," the female attendant explained, as Sandy smiled and nodded. "But your soul will know only joy as it flies to Heaven."

The male attendants stood in place in the corridor and Jonas, watching Sandy being strapped down, tried to scream again. The great hand covering his mouth pressed down harder.

Preparations complete, the female attendant glided back out of the room and the tall, tall doors slowly shut.

The male attendants turned as one and, still carrying Jonas, walked into an identical chamber across the corridor – circular, with gray walls that looked like stone, and a throne-like chair in the center of a bright round pool of light, and a crystalline cone like a chandelier above it.

The male attendants shoved Jonas in the chair, strapped him down. Jonas struggled and one of the huge men backhanded him. Stunned, Jonas stopped resisting; his ears rang, and he felt a warm trickle of blood from his nose. Scarlet drops hit his lap with soft pats. One of the male attendants grunted with disgust as Jonas' blood spattered his white trousers.

"Asshole," the man snarled into Jonas' face.

"Leave it!" another of the man said roughly. "Remember what the boss said. Dignity."

"Yeah, right," the first man – the man with flecks of blood across his crotch – muttered in reply.

The men turned away and walked out of the room. Jonas stained against he straps holding him in place. He gasped and grunted but there was no point in screaming. The tall doors silently closed. The light grew brighter, and the conical shape above the chair began to lower. From within the bright light above, something else lowered, too: A spidery contraption with jointed, armlike extensions. A round housing in the midst of the arms leveled off across from Jonas' face, and a metal plate slid away from a small black pane of glass. Deep red lights danced under the black glass.

Jonas watched in horror and then realized that there were large black letters printed on the side of the housing. Stacked one on the other they spelled a word:

G
O
D

Then Jonas realized tiny letters lined up after of the large black letters. Squinting against the light, he made out words:

General
Operating
Drive

Jonas knew there was no point to screaming, but as terror flooded through him he simply couldn't stop.

***

Pastor led the congregation in a special prayer as Sunday services neared a close.

"Oh Lord, oh most high and holy, we thank you indeed for the gift of your salvation – a gift we need no longer wait upon, for it is here now."

Pastor looked out over his flock and smiled.

"Many of you have noticed the absence this morning of two of our beloved in Christ, Jonas and Sandra. I can tell you joyfully that they will no longer be here as they were before. They have gone to God."

Gasps echoed through the room, and some men muttered to each other in confusion and alarm.

"Was it antifa?" someone called out.

"Goddamn Marxists," someone else said.

"I told you they'd make targets of us!"

"No, no," Pastor laughed. "Your concerns are warranted, but that's not what I mean. God has taken them up directly, without a need for death as we once understood it. No, there was no violent attack, no leftist assassination... our beloved Jonas and his wife have simply flown up to God. They have Ascended."

"Like in the ad?" someone called out.

Pastor nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"That's real?" someone else asked.

"Yes," Pastor said. "Of course! I would never allow evil or deceit into this church. I am here to shepherd you, to make sure your souls are safe. A week ago, Jonas and Sandy came to me and asked about the Ascension services that are now being offered. Friends! Brothers and sisters! This is God reaching a hand to us directly, in this pivotal time. Jonas and Sandy were called. They told me how strongly they felt that God was instructing them to join Him – to be seated in glory at his right hand.

"And they told me that they had no doubts, and that they would never abandon us. And they haven't! Behold... they are with us even now..."

Aeroscreens flickered to life, and the image of Jonas and Sandy floated before the face of each of the congregants.

Pastor watched with quiet anticipation. He wouldn't hear the what the avatars of Jonas and Sandy were saying – they addressed the congregants in vibra, rather than audible sound – but he knew the script.

"Peace of the Lord, called away before the tribulations, blah blah blah," Pastor muttered to himself. His words were in no danger of being heard by anyone in the congregation; they were all staring, wide-eyed, at the holographic images of the CGI avatars, and some of them had begun exclaiming while others had started peppering the avatars with questions., Each aeroscreen was interacting separately and in real time with individual congregants; the G.O.D. had scanned Jonas and Sandra's complete mindbases, and synthesized AI avatars that could give natural speech answers to the questions that the more skeptical among the congregation were already asking.

Pastor snorted softly, amused. He didn't expect any of them to be holdouts, even though most of them didn't financially qualify. But for this initial round of Ascensions... or rather, cerebrally-scouring mind scans followed by onsite cremation of the bodies... a little monetary pain was worth it, especially since Pastor got his kickbacks in the form of currency – the only way to buy luxuries befitting a man of his privilege on the Dark Market. Pornography. Booze. Fun drugs. Oh, and harlots... plenty of harlots in upscale brothels.

Across the ranks of the pews, the holographic images suddenly started flashing red as ACCEPT buttons appeared on the aeroscreens.

Quick hands reached for the buttons. "My God, my God, I praise you for the truth of this salvation!" one elderly man cried out, and suddenly, all around him, congregants burst into rapturous weeping....

"Times of Tribulation, indeed," Pastor said softly, his eyes flickering greedily over his congregation, the tip of his tongue sliding slowly across his upturned lips.

Next week we welcome in two horrific visions to celebrate Halloween. Be there for a "Double Feature" trick or treat!