"From the Machine"

THE FIRST DAY
Dr. Salverton stepped into the testing chamber, where he saw Dr. Simpson putting the final touches on Project Deus Ex Machina. It was hard to believe they had spent five years working away in the quiet town of Huxley, but after a week to test and make sure the machine was working smoothly, the two would be gone. Huxley had a population barely above one thousand, large enough to conduct a proper test but small enough for the consequences to not be too regrettable in the event of a mistake. After all this time, neither of the two scientists could still believe it when the military first approached them with the notion of Project Deus Ex Machina. The project went by that name because that was exactly what the scientists were commissioned to create. A deus ex machina. A god from the machine.

“Everything going smoothly?” asked Salverton.

“As best as I can tell without turning it on,” Simpson answered. “The machinery has been planted throughout the town, and from what I can tell, it’s fully operational. As far as this experiment requires, DXM is omnipotent.”

“DEM,” corrected Salverton. “‘Ex’ starts with an E. Are the…prayer receivers functioning?”

“It seems so. It can detect the frequency of a human thought and translate it into the cold language of the machines.”

“So all’s well for omnipotence. And omniscience?”

“I’ve installed it with every major academic work known to man,” explained Simpson. “I also equipped it with your deductive program for anything it doesn’t know.”

“Ah, yes. The Holmesian Construct.”

“Holmesian?”

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes,” Salverton answered, hesitating for Simpson to answer. “You don’t kno…never mind. It’s just a stupid nickname. Shall we turn it on?”

“Sure,” Simpson agreed as he headed towards the main terminal. “It doesn’t feel right, though.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You know…making a mechanical God to replace the real one.”

“Replace?!” Salverton sputtered. After all these years of labor Simpson never once made a reference to this. “Surely a man of science such as yourself is too educated for such mythology!”

“Well, all this stuff had to come from somewhere, didn’t it?”

“Yes. I admit, I can’t say for certain where it did, but I can say where it did not. I confess, though, I’m hesitant about this machine too, though for different reasons.”

“What?”

“We’ve gone along fairly well without divine intervention. With it…well, let’s just turn it on and hope for the best.”

Simpson punched in a quick string of keys and a humming sound began to emit from Deus Ex Machina.

“It works!” the two shouted. The machine lay still for a few seconds before words began to appear on a nearby monitor.

“What’s that say?” Simpson asked. Salverton immediately rushed and looked at the screen.

“ALL STATEMENTS ARE EITHER TRUE OR FALSE.
ANY STATEMENT WHICH IS NOT TRUE IS FALSE, AND VICE VERSA.”

“It’s…it’s deducing,” Salverton explained meekly.

“Deducing what?” Simpson asked impatiently.

“I don’t know. Whatever it can, I suppose.”

“What do you think that means?”

“I’m not sure. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I advise we just get some rest and dream of returning home.” And so they did.

THE SECOND DAY
“Was that the mayor?” asked Simpson once Salverton re-entered the room after a private phone call. With the exception of the two scientists, the mayor of Huxley was the only one aware of Project Deus Ex Machina’s development, and was instructed to stay quiet on the matter.

“Yep,” answered Salverton as he returned to the breakfast table and began poking at the egg on his plate with his fork. “Delivered our first report on how the town is handling God.”

“And how is it?”

“It’s started small,” Salverton began, taking a bite out of his egg. “A little kid playing soccer prayed to score a goal. DEM used its low-gravity field and the kid scored.”

“That’s sweet,” Simpson replied.

“Maybe at first. After that the other team’s goalie prayed to block a goal. The gravity increased. The child couldn’t even kick the ball off the ground. He began crying.”

“Ooh,” hissed Simpson. “Still, I suppose there’s no serious harm.”

“No serious human harm, at least. From what I heard afterward, the kid began praying to score every goal, and the goalie prayed to block every goal. Receiving conflicting orders like that could have conceivably destroyed DEM.”

“No, they won’t. I handled that,” explained Simpson.

“You handled it?”

“I made sure that in the event of conflicting prayers, DXM would do exactly what the real God would: it wouldn’t intervene.”

“Is that really what the ‘real God’ does?” asked Salverton, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that during those occasions, which happen quite often, I’m certain, the reason God doesn’t intervene isn’t because there’s no God to intervene?”

“Yes.”

“Honestly, that belief always bugged me. In my experience every single ‘prayer’ answered was due to a completely normal, non-supernatural force,” Salverton hissed as he bit into his egg once more. “I was in a car accident once. After about a month I recovered. My family said God had answered their prayers.”

“And he had!”

“No. After my accident I went to a hospital, where I was placed in the hands of a competent staff of doctors with extensive knowledge of medical science. If everybody prayed and nobody called an ambulance…” Salverton dropped his fork, unable to finish his sentence.

“The creation of Project Deus Ex Machina, if properly executed, will change some people’s way of thinking forever,” he spoke. “On the other hand, it will also keep most people’s way of thinking the same. Forgive me, Simpson, but I think I’m going to take a nap,” Salverton said as he rose from his chair.

“I’m only stuck in this town for a few more days, and I’d like to spend as much of my time left as possible unconscious.”

THE THIRD DAY
Salverton sat staring at the terminal which contained Project Deus Ex Machina’s mind. Simpson came into the room, having finished receiving the mayor’s daily report. It came later today.

“How are things?” asked Salverton.

“Remember your story yesterday about how the doctors had helped you but not God?”

“Yes.”

“An old woman was ill with some kind of infection, it seems. She prayed for it to go away. All of a sudden, the machine brings her a bottle of penicillin. Free.”

“That’s service,” chuckled Salverton.

“Not for a healthy economy it’s not. That was a bad sign of business for Huxley’s doctors. When you think about it, it’s a bad sign of business for everyone. Why give money to farms, grocery stores, and restaurants when you can pray for food?”

“Well, I suppose they could just…”

“Don’t say it, because they did. It seems the existence of ‘God’ is now known throughout all of Huxley. There are four doctors in this town. Immediately after finding out about the free penicillin, all four doctors, feeling cheated out of business, prayed to receive the money they rightfully should have. A considerable sum of money disappeared from the woman’s bank account: enough money for a doctor’s appointment and penicillin prescription four times over.”

“Hmm,” hummed Salverton, resting his chin on his right hand. “Seems God isn’t such a good thing for the world. It’s a good thing he doesn’t…”

“Shut up,” interrupted Simpson. “Now isn’t the best time for an argument. How’s DXM functioning?”

“DEM,” answered Salverton, placing a particular amount of stress on the second letter, “is working perfectly. Except that it’s still deducing…whatever it is. I installed the Holmesian Construct only when it needs to find out something it doesn’t know. Ever since we’ve turned it on, it’s been deducing non-stop.”

“Have you read what it says?”

“I’ve tried reading what it says. That’s pure logic. Pure logic is a language all its own, in a way. It’s a giant mess of symbols that I can’t make head or tail of.”

“Maybe it’s a plan,” suggested Simpson.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, you know…God’s plan. If DEM's really a god, it wouldn't just do whatever it's asked, would it? It must have some plan behind it all.”

Salverton began laughing hysterically. Simpson began to grow indignant.

“Look,” he boomed. “Are you going to make fun of me every time I bring up religion?”

“Right…of course, I’m sorry,” Salverton said as he began to calm down. “Let’s just…let’s just…”

“Let’s just what?”

“Let’s just hope God’s plan includes finding out how much you should pay for penicillin.”

THE FOURTH DAY
It was Salverton’s turn to hear the mayor’s reports for the day. The pair had initially decided they would alternate hearing the mayor each day until they were allowed to leave. The two at first looked forward to their turn, hearing the impact of their creation, but by now each of them dreaded their day to receive the news. As Salverton came back to Simpson, his entire face, bright red moustache included, seemed curled into a giant frown.

“What now?” asked Simpson.

“The town of Huxley is predominantly Christian,” Salverton explained.

“Yes? So?”

“There is one Muslim family living in the town. They have a little girl. She wanted it to snow. DEM used its weather simulation and gave the town six inches of snow.”

“Well, that’s not too bad, apart from people being late for work.”

“That’s the least of it. The majority of Huxley, being Christians, has decided that DEM is not just God, but Jesus Christ himself. Why would he answer the prayers of a Muslim? They’re getting angry at the whole family. A mob’s gathering. Things will probably get violent. All because a little girl wanted to play in the snow.”

“Well, I’m sure DXM can protect them,” assured Simpson.

“I remember looking over your programming for DEM,” Salverton explained. “It said that in the event of conflicting prayers, the one prayed by more people wins out. If there’s a balance, DEM doesn’t intervene. There’s a family of four praying for protection, confident God is on their side. Then there’s a mob of around fifty praying for help in the battle against the non-believer, also confident God is on their side. It all reminds me of a line, Simpson.”

“What line?”

“I majored in Engineering when I was a college boy, obviously. I needed another class. Not caring what it was in particular, I took French history. I had to read about Napoleon. I still remember a quote he said once.” Salverton grabbed a nearby chair and placed one foot on it, slipping his right hand into his coat.

“God fights on the side with the best artillery!”

“I’m glad you can find humor in the situation,” said Simpson bitterly. “Maybe I should reprogram DXM to be more discriminating in the prayers he answers.”

“Maybe you could just pray for it to disobey!” laughed Salverton, almost demented. “Who knows, maybe it’ll destroy itself.”

“That sort of thing only happens in movies,” Simpson answered drolly. “You can’t destroy a machine through a logical paradox, especially one as advanced as DXM.”

“DEM,” corrected Salverton, suddenly calmer. “DEM. I’m going to make an appeal to Washington to shut down DEM before things get really ugly. I just hope they get back to us in time,” Salverton said as he headed out the door. Before exiting the room, he suddenly stopped.

“By the way, Simpson, speaking of logical…is it still deducing whatever the hell it is?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better hope it’s really deducing ‘God’s plan’ like you said it was, Simpson. And more importantly, you’d better hope ‘God’s plan’ is a damned good one.”

THE FIFTH DAY
Simpson went back into the room with tears streaming down his cheeks. Salverton looked astonished, having never seen this reaction before.

“Wh…what happened?” Salverton asked, growingly scared at whatever events occurred. Simpson stood silently, attempting to compose himself, before he finally spoke.

“I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.”

“What? What does that mean?” asked Salverton.

“The mob…they wanted to prove they were right. They…they prayed for DXM…they wanted God to kill that whole Muslim family, to prove they were right.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” Simpson tried to walk forward but merely fell into a heap on the floor.

“Come on, Simpson. Come up!” cried Salverton as he tried to hoist Simpson up.

“From what I understand, from what I understand…DXM killed them painlessly,” explained Simpson. “I suppose it’s…a benevolent god.” Simpson burst into another sobbing fit. “The military hasn’t responded yet, have they?”

“I’m afraid not,” Salverton said. “In all likelihood, we’ll be allowed to leave Huxley before we get the word. We can go to our homes, far away, where DEM has no jurisdiction. In the meantime, I advise you try to reprogram DEM. Perhaps you can make it so he only answers benevolent prayers?”

“It won’t matter. At this point if God doesn’t do it they’ll take care of matters themselves.” Simpson looked up and saw a seemingly infinite stream of logical symbols appearing on DEM’s monitor.

“You know what, Salverton?” Simpson moaned. “I think you were right. I think you were right this whole time. God doesn’t exist. Isn’t that horrible?”

“The fact that God doesn’t exist isn’t horrible at all,” answered Salverton. “I think the real horror lies in the fact that God didn’t exist until relatively recently.”

THE SIXTH DAY
“What did the mayor say?” asked Simpson, becoming more and more thankful with each passing second that they were underground, safely concealed from the town’s residents.

“He was the deputy mayor,” answered Salverton. “Seems the mayor was killed by someone. Death by prayer. And nobody knows who asked for it. Nobody but DEM.”

“This is terrible!”

“It gets better. Listen closely.” The two remained completely silent, and could just barely make out the sound of stomping and screaming.

“That is the sound of war, Simpson. That is the sound of people dying and a mechanical god more than happy to reward its followers.”

“Ugh!” moaned Simpson, putting his face into his hands. “I can’t believe what we’ve done.”

“I suppose this isn’t the best time for more bad news,” said Salverton.

“What else could there be?” screamed Simpson.

“The military hasn’t responded yet. And I know for a fact that if they do, they will decline to shut DEM down.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you see? Project Deus Ex Machina was funded by the military. The military exists to win wars. The occasional officer bragged about having God on their side, and decided that they should make the statement true. The role fulfilled by the atomic bomb in World War II was planned to be fulfilled by prayer in World War III.”

“Grrr!” Simpson growled. “What are we supposed to do with all of this?”

“Wait for tomorrow. Wait for the military to escort us back home. If I were you, I’d sleep. Sleep and hope the whole town isn’t slaughtered when we wake. Which reminds me.”

“Please, Salverton,” begged Simpson. “Please tell me this is the last news you have that can make the situation worse.”

“It is. The new mayor’s inauguration was conducted in secret, out of fear for his own life. As far as the town is concerned, there is no mayor. The police fighting to keep the peace have been almost completely slaughtered, felled by a prayer.”

“So there’s no government to stop the chaos, then?” asked Simpson. “So this is anarchy.”

“No,” corrected Salverton. “This is theocracy.”

THE SEVENTH DAY
Salverton and Simpson woke, washed up, and got dressed as if this was any other day. The pair anticipated this day as the best of their lives. They would be free. The two planned to never mention Project Deus Ex Machina for the rest of their lives as long as they could help it.

“Rise and shine, boys!” greeted the soldier standing in the main room. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes,” groaned Simpson. “A bit too ready.”

“Have you been up on the surface?” Salverton asked.

“As a matter of fact I have.”

“Can you tell me how many people are up there?”

“One. One very good Christian.”

“One?!” exclaimed Simpson. “Are you telling me we killed an entire town save one resident?”

“Calm down. That’s nothing more than a sign the machine worked.”

“IT WORKED?!” shrieked Simpson. Salverton jumped in front of Simpson and attempted to restrain him.

“I apologize for my friend’s rudeness,” said Salverton, wishing he could do the same. “I’m sure he’ll be better once he’s returned home. Er…it is safe to go up there, isn’t it?”

“You know it is. You guys sure were prepared, temporarily turning the machine off just for safety.”

“Turning it off?” the two scientists said almost in unison. Rushing to the main terminal of Project Deus Ex Machina, they looked at the monitor they had watched so intently. Below the seemingly constant flow of logical symbols they could see two plainly written sentences.

“FROM ALL THIS, IT CAN BE DEDUCED THAT GOD DOES NOT EXIST.
ERGO, I DO NOT EXIST.”