e fell into another memory, and before his vision cleared, he heard speaking.
“You’re quitting? Scott.” As the darkness cleared he saw Pastor Dan remove his glasses and set them in front of him on a mahogany desk and stare at him in disbelief.
Isaac checked out his surroundings. They were in a little office, the walls floor to ceiling with books. It was Pastor Dan! Huh. Isaac wondered again what had happened to him.
Propped in front of Dan was an ancient screen on a portable folding stand. Isaac chortled inwardly. That thing must weigh a full two pounds! Through the window he could see a green lawn and the old church on the seminary grounds that they used to attend.
He felt himself look down, and then up. “I know Dan. I know. But I have to go. I’m going to be helping millions of people, not just a single congregation. There are very few people with my background. The alpha trials clinched it for Goopple. They gave me a great offer.”
Dan rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing the bridge of his nose as though to relieve pressure. Isaac knew that the glowing screens caused eye problems before they were replaced with the vPaint, then the mindscreens. Couldn’t they see that the screens were so bad for the eyes? What could be more obvious than all the eye-rubbing?
“I’m not surprised, you know. How long have I been your spiritual director now?” Dan looked up at a point beyond the ceiling and tabulating years on his fingers.
“Five years.” Isaac felt a tightness in Scott’s throat.
“That’s right, five years.” Dan’s eyes misted.
“And I want to keep that up. But I have to quit seminary. I don’t lose anything I’ve learned. The chaplaincy, the pastoral counseling, all of it. But I’m going to be connecting it with my computer science, and I’m going to be shaping this thing. If they don’t have people of faith working on the limbic connection, then who will teach the machine to love others? Or, for that matter, to love itself?”
Dan snorted, “Bullshit, Scott. A machine can’t love. But you can make it look like it does.”
It was so weird to hear Dan swearing. He never, ever swore. The Dan Isaac knew was, well, milder.
“I know we disagree. But I want to do a bigger good. Can’t you see that?” said Scott.
“Look. Maybe, if you hook it deep into our brains, you can tap into our good parts. Maybe that would even be worth living in the belly of that beast. But don’t mistake it for love. Love is always small. Corporate CEOs, generals and politicians can only love in the abstract, the way we love things we own.
“To them, we’re statistics. You can improve statistics, but you can’t love them. Statistics are large while people are small.
“You think you can improve things for people? Take away their struggles and their pains? A great utility for a great number!” he spread his hands in front of him and leaned forward. “But don’t mistake it for the gospel. The gospel is always bottom-up. It starts in us and communities and spreads outwards. And yes, it does heal our hurts, and it does take away poverty, but only when we all pull against the oars.”
Scott looked him square in the eyes, “I don’t mistake it. But I do see God working in all of this. And I still need you to help me discern how the spirit is moving, Dan. Even in the belly of the beast.”
Dan sighed, and met his gaze, “Good. You know I’m here. I’m going to miss you here on campus. Where will we get new pastors?” he shook his head. “You, you knew what the goddamn machine was like, and you chose the human. Now you’re headed back to build a cyborg consciousness. Aren’t there enough little problems without fallout from the big fix?” Dan smiled wryly.
Goddamn machine? Dan? What had happened to Dan over these years?
Scott smiled back, “Little problems? You can’t put a bandaid over it any longer. There comes a time where the wound needs stitches if it’s gonna heal.”
“You’re a damned Marxist, Scott,” said Dan.
“And you’re an anarchist,” said Scott. They were both smiling, but he could feel his expression shifting into sadness as the dream-dark spun around him.