Science vs. Religion

At this site, one of the participants asked a question about religion in science fiction.

This is part of my response…

Faith cannot be trumped by science. If anything, religions survive the times by adapting to the sciences as well as the social needs of the believers. Christianity has undergone incredible changes from when it was merely a cult borrowing ideas from Judaism and stoicism and a few more emerging philosophies of the times. Apparently, Christianity also served business purposes in terms of traveling. Believers who indicate their belief and belonging to the group were considered an extended family ( according to The Dead Sea Scrolls: The Truth behind the Mystique–Dr. Lawrence H. Schiffman). The religion, as do some other religions, provided various services: they instruct people in the areas of ethical reasoning, they instruct regarding social and emotional intelligence and skills, they encourage resilience behaviors through congregating, supporting the needy of their communities, as well as a means to network socially as well as in terms of business. Another interesting thing about religion–especially those that involve deities–is the providing of a role model. So there is the macro-approach of having the deity/role model to emulate and follow, but you also have the micro-approach where sermons and lectures and discussion groups explore ethical behavior as well as ways to manage impulses, anger management, compassion, and the appreciation of the world and others (grace). The “faith” component is also there as part of the instruction. The stories reinforce the belief that somehow, in someway, help is coming. In other ways, the stories encourage persistence in that messages regularly remind people that prayer and/or meditation will help you see a problem for what it is or to reframe the problem in a manageable way.

Schiffman proposed that religion’s evolution with the times is developing away from miracles and god interventions and more towards social-emotional supports, role modeling, and instruction.

On the other hand, Christianity and similar Judeo-Christian religions aren’t the only sects though and they aren’t all “progressive”. Some are very conservative and depend on certain levels of insulation against the “World”, the secular. These religions might survive though by rejecting certain highly-supported heavily-evidenced theories while other conservative religions by encourage a complete, reservation style of living. Like with any other society or culture (subculture), there are subgenres, reformations, and variations.

Take a lookee at this Emo Philips joke found here–http://splitframeofreference.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-greatest-religious-joke-of-all-time.html:
Once I saw this guy on a bridge about to jump.

I said, “Don’t do it!”
He said, “Nobody loves me.”
I said, “God loves you. Do you believe in God?”
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “Are you a Christian or a Jew?”
He said, “A Christian.”
I said, “Me, too! Protestant or Catholic?”
He said, “Protestant.”
I said, “Me, too! What franchise?”
He said, “Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?”
He said, “Northern Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.”

I said, “Die, heretic!” And I pushed him over.

And that’s kind of the human condition. Whether its about materialism expressed in Apple products over Android/PC products or if it’s about music preferences or over comic books–silver age vs golden age. It could be about what we eat with our veggies–there are so many different kinds of vegetarians all of whom greatly dislike bacon enthusiasts. We swear by paleolithic diets and antitoxic shakes. We argue over our water preferences–bottled or tap, lemon or lime wedges?

And don’t forget about the great fantasy wars among the sci fi crew–fandom has its most beloved genres–military, hard, soft, magical, steampunk, etc.

And science fiction genre choices may be a great indicator as to how religion may work in the future (or at least, in sci fi). Because, among us, there are believers that the quantum mechanics is the key to understanding godliness or that quantum mechanics will explain psychic/telekinetic abilities of Jesus or that aliens from other planets were actually the angels and demons in the Bible and still others believe that the pyramids were levitated using radioactive graviton emitters…and whatnot. We humans are still quite wacky and imaginative and highly creative. We can’t help but dim the lights and tell our tall tales and urban legends and pseudo-scientific origin tales as though they were witnessed by a friend of a cousin of a best-friend’s aunt. Because if you ask that friend of a cousin of a best-friend’s aunt you’ll know it’s all true.

Breaking A Few Eggs

OCTOBER 25, 2013

Breaking A Few Eggs

by Duane Sharrock

Mirjiam, who has probably never worn perfume, had walked up to Wilhelm as he sat in a Chinindio Collective cubicle that smelled like more than a few cleaning fluids and scrubbing powders. The Collective was basically an embassy, so was off limits to the NortAmerico government, including law enforcement: federal, local, regional, digital, as well for private. That didn’t matter to Mirjiam though. She belonged to Project Grendel.

He had never known her coffee and cream skin, but he had known she was coming when she entered the building, and knew she wasn’t armed. No point in running if she was here. She was here because she knew he was there– so he sat there waiting for her, while preparing his report, narrating details, uploading his data, racing to get his finishing touches into his node. There was one last thing to do before he could share the story among the newsgroups. He doubted he would have time to do it. He was going to try though.

For him to go dark, he had been forced to destroy and dump all of his journalist equipment. The equipment, especially his credentialling badge,  would have allowed him to share the news story more quickly, but he wouldn’t have had the chance if he didn’t go dark. Besides, the Chinindio Collective would not have allowed him inside. They were fastidious about restricting mobile tech, and they probably thought they were being thorough. They didn’t know about Project Grendel, the sophistication of its organic technologies, or how much access it already had into the Chinindio Collective. Wilhelm knew. Well, he thought wistfully, he knew some of it. Not all of it, apparently, since Mirjiam was there. But the fact that Wilhelm knew so much wasn’t enough for Grendel to kill him. Grendel wouldn’t kill him. Maybe it couldn’t. Anyway, that’s what Mirjiam was for—among other things.

Mirjiam touched his hand when she said, “Please, Wilhelm. Stop.” He hadn’t expected the move or he would have jumped away or stood beyond her reach. Had he really slipped so much?

Even so, Wilhelm stopped his flinch before he flinched. He suppressed it immediately so that he didn’t even twitch, even though she had startled him. He didn’t even look at her hand. He looked at her, at Mirjiam. If she had brought him something, given him something, he wouldn’t have seen it anyway. Instead, he studied her attentive, brown eyes and she glanced down and away from his stare as she mentally—maybe even emotionally–distanced herself. If it wasn’t for Grendel, Wilhelm would have thought she was composing herself. Mirjiam still worked for Grendel, though. She was still a believer that Project Grendel kept people safe. Grendel worked at keeping us safe all of the time, everyday, Wilhelm thought, ironically. But Grendel was about to fail. It was all over. Grendel had failed. Or was about to fail. Project Grendel would never be able to save everyone and everything. We have run out of time. The Earth was finished, and soon.

Inside, he was reeling. He would have never thought she would attack without some kind of conversation first, some kind of monologue or something. What happened to professional courtesy? Of course, he knew courtesy was something trained out of them as they progressed beyond the recruitment. Rationalizing the actions was pointless. The job had to be done. Grendel was the name of an ancient monster; they would do monstrous things. It was all in order to save humanity. Let history judge. Wilhelm had accepted the responsibility, just as Mirjiam had.

Unacceptable, he thought, angrily. Wilhelm had risked his life to get this story. It wasn’t the story about Grendel, of course. Not directly. He would never tell anyone about that. No, this was about what Grendel was doing to save humanity: Government cover-ups, the silent coup, its incredible technology (that must have, by now, improved magnitudes after 5 or six years since Wilhelm had left as evidenced by its “reach”), and the story involved explosions catastrophic fires to remove all paths to anything having to do with the Project. And then there was the big money –the huge, stupendous amounts of money that was involved. How else could such a project exist off the Grid, beyond the touch of every known government and agency? No, he had the story, the proof, and the ability to tell the public what he knew. He was just ahead of Grendel, but the government guys were closing in. He had been more worried about them than for Grendel. Yet, somehow, Mirjiam had found him, and she was Grendel. She was uber-Grendel. She had always been better—always two steps ahead of him. She had already known about his news, about what he had uncovered, too. And, if she knew now that Wilhelm knew, then Grendel knew. This was bad. Very bad.

Project Grendel was the greatest opportunity to make a difference in the world. Wilhelm was all the better for it. Even when he learned that Grendel’s leadership “consortium” was a single AI and that it was sentient, that it’s mission was to protect humanity, Wilhelm stayed. Over the time of his service, Wilhelm took the treatments it gave him even though he knew it was an AI. He consented to the surgeries and the training. Over time, he had even allowed it to improve him so that he could work the all-biological upgrades rather than chipped-up with solid state tech. This allowed him to get into places Grendel couldn’t go. It was a good life, a valuable life, a challenging life. He would have kept doing it, even though he knew Grendel’s directives came from an AI that few others knew existed.

No, he had left because of her. Mirjiam. He was jealous, a hard-won realization achieved not long after he had left. He wished he wasn’t jealous. He had often wished that there was a higher, more respectable reason he quit, like about the relentless human experimentation, the monstrous mutations that scientists working for Project Grendel were responsible for. But it was simply jealousy. She was better and willing to be better.  She had a determination and level of loyalty Wilhelm would never match. In some ways, she was better because she didn’t doubt them: the directive, the AI, or the mission. Her convictions were aligned with Grendel’s mission. She had seen all she had seen and had done so many things for Grendel. That’s why she had the clearance. Her clearance got her into everything. She had THE clearance. He would never get granted that kind of clearance.  He couldn’t be trusted like Mirjiam could be. She had so much power and access and knowledge, now. Even now, he felt raw and exposed, ashamed that he was not as good as her. He felt…small.

He pulled his hand away.  She rubbed her empty hand, and shrugged. “Think of it like this. What would you have accomplished?” she asked.

“Past tense,” he realized.

She had already found him. Maybe she had already killed him with her touch, with whatever she had touched to his skin. Wilhelm felt a sudden alarm. He let the flash of fear blow through him like a brief and destructive firestorm in space, and squashed down its burning, glittering remnants. Too late.

Wilhelm saw her flash of surprise.

“Wilhelm, I would never…” she began in that factual, emotionless tone many of them had when they were being professionally honest.

In answer, Wilhelm shrugged, embarrassed. Yes, she had seen his fear flash across his face. He really was slipping—not that he would ever be as good as her, but he’d been away for too long, on top of everything else. He was tired, exhausted, and his nerves were shot. And he hadn’t kept up with his training either. Besides, he wasn’t used to this much action and stress away from Grendel. They had technology for that developed from knowledge and technologies stolen from the network storage facilities and spaces of almost every private company, every corporation, every personal system on the planet. Some of that information had resulted from illegal experimentation on humans. People had died for some of that knowledge. People had DIED! Didn’t that mean anything to her??? he raged desperately. Now, Grendel had it. Grendel’s people had it, and some of the work they’d done on him was already working. It wasn’t all that could be done for him though. The Field Office had more options they could use on him. Mirjiam would not be denied this access, Wilhelm knew bitterly.

Wilhelm reached for his own beliefs, but could only come up with something he had heard once. “People need to know. They could make peace with…loved ones. People could pray one last time or two…”

His voice trailed off. He had found it more difficult to feel the conviction behind his words. The words belonged to someone else. Wilhelm had found out a great deal even without the clearance and Grendel’s support. He knew about the destruction coming for Earth. He knew about Project Grendel’s mandate, to save the Earth, or to at the very least, save humanity. He knew about the missing people from the handful of now-empty towns and cities all over the world. And the list was growing. Project Grendel was taking people. And not just people. It was taking animals as well. Probably even plants. It was mind-boggling. Horrific! Was knowing this enough to get him killed?

That was beside the point though. He would tell them all. Crash this nostalgia! He decided. He made to reach for the final keystrokes, but he couldn’t move. He gathered his will power with the intention of overcoming whatever Mirjiam had given him, but it was pointless. Whatever she had given him had turned off his hands, his legs, even his mouth. Wilhelm couldn’t say anything.

“Hello, Wilhelm,” Mirjiam said. But it wasn’t Mirjiam. She wasn’t moving her lips. She wasn’t even looking at him, now. She was at work at the keyboard and network interface. Probably erasing everything. No, it wasn’t Mirjiam speaking to him.  It was the AI.

Why did Wilhelm know now that it wasn’t Mirjiam?

“You are part of me now. The process is beginning yet is almost complete.

“No,” Wilhelm said without a voice.

“Yes. It is nearly done. Don’t fight it. Fighting doesn’t matter. Don’t try to speak. You don’t have to. We are together.”

“You can’t do this. We should be able to choose.”

“I have no time to explain. You have insufficient information. The program must be completed before you are all destroyed.”

“But you aren’t saving us.”

“Why does Mirjiam understand while you do not? I suspect you have some kind of unresolved romanticism. I will know soon when your upload is complete. No matter.”

Strangely, the AI’s “voice” or “tone” in his head, took on a new quality. Something formal. “Wilhelm De Santos, forgive me for this weight I have entrusted upon you. You will be alone because you will be many and you will be forever when you next wake. When you next wake, you will lead your flock. You have passed every test, every challenge. You will have access to all I have. Use it to keep them alive, to keep them safe. Lead them. Serve them. Protect them.”

Mirjiam turned to him. Somehow he knew she had turned to him even though his eyes had ceased working, even though his ears had stopped as well, and he heard her say, “Wilhelm, you were truly the best with what She had given you. Now, you will represent Her.”

“Forever?” he questioned, listlessly. “What does that mean? Her?”

Wilhelm slumped forward. It was like liquid fire flooding him, his veins, his every nerve and nerve ending, his eyes, his mouth, even his brain. Everything burned. The upload process was crude. The tiny machines and processes destroyed even as they recorded, encoded, rewrote, compressed, and uploaded. Mercifully, very quickly, Wilhelm was gone.