Cyber-Nuns

Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction.

(2 Timothy 4:2)

1

A cameraman tapped his forehead, activating his eye augment to focus on the grinning reporter in front of him. The reporter—Evans—broadened his practiced grin and began: 

“Ladies, Gentlemen, AIs, and liberated robots,  welcome to your favourite cultural segment!  And what strange culture are we­ looking into today?” Evans lifted his hand as he counted down. “Well, well. What could possibly trump our last episodes? Anything more exciting than the real animal zoo we saw three weeks ago? Or, perhaps, even better than the last non-GMO farm?” Evans shook his head. “Poor folks they were. Those tomatoes… bleh, every bite tasted the same. No candy, no barbecue, not even a hint of a rainbow flavor… They couldn’t even grow it to taste like our delightful sponsor Coca-cola. Evans laughed as he lifted the can of Coca-cola with tomato flavour, making sure the logo was clearly visible.

“Truly, our dear viewers, today’s culture is even more exciting than the AI book club we visited last week! Still…” He hesitated. “A bit strange how those AIs liked Orwell so much…” Evans chuckled, before waving his hand. “But who cares what some old fart wrote? If Orwell mattered, the AIs would’ve told us.”

“Today, we’re visiting something—or rather, someone—even stranger…” Evans lowered his voice, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. He winked theatrically at the camera and whispered: “We’re going to visit a little cult we’ve uncovered. A cult of  ladies who are ignorant of modern science and instead embrace God. Truly! Not a single body modification, cybernetics or even teeth replacement! Can you believe it?” Evans grinned, flexing his metallic arm.

“Impure, they say. But how could they think that? What led them to these delusions? Let’s find out today!”

2

Evans knocked at the massive cathedral door, the sound echoing faintly through the cold stone silence. Nothing happened. He tapped his foot, checked the watch and was about to knock again, when the door opened. An older lady in a nun’s black and white clothes smiled at the two-person crew.

They were led through the corridors of the church, looking around, wondering why no one made it into a supermarket yet. There was certainly enough space… someone just needs to move all the wooden benches to the side… probably get rid of all those strange windows with folks painted on them—maybe replace them with screens? 

“This way please.” 

Evans blinked, jolted from his commercial wonders. “Ah, of course,” Evans said, following the nun into a small cabinet.

It was a cozy room with a huge window on one side and a humble sofa with few chairs on the other. The cameraman stared at the library by the wall, so surprised, he heard the nun coughing only after her third try. This time much louder than a respectable lady has any business coughing. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, molding his jacket. “Just surprised, that’s all. Those are books, right? Like paper books?”

“Indeed.” The nun smiled, before grabbing him by the hand and firmly moving away from the library. “As you can imagine, they are rather rare.”

Before seating herself, she asked if they wished for cookies or tea. She seemed so motherly, both of them wondered if they would need to ask for permission to go to the toilet later. A cup of tea and a few cookies later, they were ready to start.

Evans cleared his throat. “So, Sister Mary,” he started, “just need to have some papers signed. When is the owner coming?”

“I am not sure what you are talking about darling. The Lord is above us all.”

“Ah, yeah, sure,” Evans said, looking around, scratching his head. “We have just some docs to sign; like that you can’t sue us for what we record… that kind of thing. Who usually does these things. Is there a CEO of this… what do you call it?”

“A church, dear.”

“Oh, yeah… right. So who is the CEO of this church? We send the docs online, but your accounts are… well, offline.”

“We don’t have any computers here I am afraid,” Sister Mary said with a smile. “But, if there are documents to sign, I believe I can be of help.”

“You are the CEO of this church?” Evans eyed Sister Mary. She was clearly not what he imagined a proper CEO to look like.

“I am the Abbess of this church, my dear. It’s my responsibility to deal with the outside world, so sisters can focus on praying.”

“Works for me.” Evans shrugged and handed her the paperwork. Everything settled, camera prepared—they were ready to start the interview.

After an annoyingly smug intro Evans turned to the nun. “So Sister Mary, what’s the deal with your church?”

“Well, my dear.” Sister Mary smiled, putting down a smoking mug of tea. “We believe that technology is rather unhelpful in attaining peace. We follow the Lord’s will and dedicate our time to prayer and meditation.”

“How curious!” Evans said, widening his eyes in a mocking surprise. The cameraman rolled his eyes, but sister Marry just smiled and sipped on her tea. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Evans continued. “What does your day even look like? How do you survive without the miracles of the modern age?”

“It’s nothing complicated, really.” Sister Mary said with a smile, the kind of a smile a teacher gives to a preschool child who’s just brushed its teeth without help. “We pray most of the morning, then we eat breakfast and work on our communal garden. Afternoons are for helping those in need and evenings for tending the church.” 

Even before Sister Mary finished, Evans jumped in front of the camera, waving his hands and grinning like a monkey that can’t find its banana.

“There you see it folks! Those nuns, right? Just spend the days helping around? And they don’t ask for payment? Have you heard that before? Unbelievable! But don’t you worry folks. We will follow Sister Mary around and find out how it really is!” Throughout Evans’ overexcited rambling, Sister Mary calmly drank her tea and smiled at the camera, nodding as if the whole ordeal went exactly as she intended. Which, in fact, it did. From her perspective, it was Lord’s plan, of course, but Sister Mary had a significant planning hand in this particular Lord’s plan.

3

What followed went almost exactly as Sister Mary described. Gardening was canceled for the simple and rather obvious reason—it was Winter. Normally, such inconveniences wouldn’t bother the sisters, but Sister Mary decided their time was better spent helping others than breaking ice. So the morning was spent visiting orphanages. 

Afternoon, nuns moved to a shelter and helped cook meals for the homeless, often receiving thanks and refusing even the smallest of payments. At that point Evans was so fed up with all the goodness around him, that he decided to stay outside the shelter and smoke a few. Possibly hoping a few puppies would wander by so he could kick them to, at least somewhat, balance his karma.

Luckily for him, the nuns had no more goodness-spreading scheduled for the day and happily returned for an evening prayer. Evans, rather disturbed by the fact that today, he was called ‘dear’ more times than in his entire childhood, returned to Sister Mary’s office—also known as the church’s CEO headquarters.

Utterly exhausted, Evans collapsed onto the sofa next to the equally tired cameraman. Sister Mary, on the other hand, happily drank her tea, smiling after the day’s work. 

After a few minutes, a cup of tea and all of the remaining cookies, Evans cleared his glasses, wondering how he could possibly spin this boredom into an entertainment modern audiences expect. Then it hit him—the last straw he could cling to. He cleared his throat, winked at the cameraman and turned to Sister Mary. “If you don’t mind, Miss Abbess… I have one more question.” 

“Oh, not at all, dear. Please.” Sister Mary smiled, folding her hands in her lap. Evans took a deep breath and continued. “We’ve heard that your order rejects body augmentations. Is that true?

“Indeed, it is, darling.”

“What about mental enhancements? Chips? Or at least stimulants? Anything!?” 

“Neither, I am afraid.”

“Unbelievable!” Evans said, throwing a dramatic eye roll at the camera. “How about body-strength enhancements? Dopamine hitters? Don’t tell me you avoid those too!”

“We do. Truly.” A smile never left Sister Mary’s lips, as she answered Evan’s silly questions.

“I just can’t understand it!” Evans said. “Why would you refuse such helpful technology?”

“Well,” Sister said, setting down her tea. “I am glad you asked.” She paused, tapping her chin before standing up. “Please, follow me, darlings. It will be easier to show you.” The two men exchanged a confused look, but quickly followed after her.

She stopped by a massive bell in the center of the dining hall and struck it three times. The sound echoed throughout the church, bouncing from wall to wall, reaching even the furthest corners. Then, barely a second after the last ring, the church burst into life. The nuns filled the dining hall and, as if trained, formed four rows of exactly ten. To Evans, they no longer looked like nuns. They were more like… soldiers; they were so quiet, so strict… It felt like a battalion of elite soldiers filled the room, rather than lovely nuns that spend their whole day helping people.

Abbess, drawing Evans’ attention, pressed the hidden button on the wall and a secret entrance opened. Row by row, sisters marched inside and began picking up… guns? Evans turned to Sister Mary stammering: “I- I don’t understand.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, darling.” She said, giving him another motherly smile. “It’s a bit earlier than we expected, but today is as good a day as any. It’s Saturday after all.” She laughed lightly and entered the armory.

Evans followed soon after, waving his colleague to keep recording. The cameraman moved closer to take in the weapons; these weren’t ordinary guns you’d find on the street—most had religious insignia and icons all over them. There were shotguns, looking closer to crossbows with a long body and split barrel forming the shape of a cross. Machine guns, with repainted sides, each engraved with ‘Gospel Gun’ on the side. The boxes of grenades didn’t have any iconography, instead they featured a huge text ‘commandments’. There were even flamethrowers, their tanks sprayed with the word ‘Retribution’ in bold, fiery letters.

The weapons were oiled and cleaned making one thing clear; the nuns knew what they were doing. One look at them handling this arsenal was enough to make you feel like you watched war veterans with decades of experience.

Evans, tagging the cameraman to follow, asked Sister Mary about it: “Oh, of course,” she smiled in a reply. “I suppose I didn’t mention it, but most evenings the sisters dedicate themselves to practicing combat in the Lord’s name.”

“But why?” Evans practically yelled. “What are you planning to do?”

“Oh dear,” Sister Mary said, patting him on the shoulder. “Patience, child, you will see soon enough.” Then, Sister Mary—seeing the rest of the sisters finished their preparation—rang the bell one more time. The sisters knelt, and for several minutes, not a sound could be heard. Nuns occupied by the prayer and news crew occupied by being utterly terrified.

After the brief prayer, nuns exchanged a resolute nod and stormed the streets.

4

The events of the following night sparked heated debates among many experts. As it tends to be, none of the experts could agree on what happened, which was somewhat strange considering reporter Evan’s recording captured the situation from the start to end.

The nuns stormed the streets, systematically disabling every police officer and member of both public and private armies across the country. The Coup d’Mary, as it was later titled, followed a surprisingly simple military plan. Nuns advanced in two waves, first, the armed divisions, disabled any resistance; then the support division provided first aid, tea and cookies. The armies and police forces were so stunned, the nuns were able to take over the country in less than four hours. Every interviewed soldier described that Coup felt like a warm hug rather than a rebellion, which is a strange thing to hear from someone who was shot in the arm.

No-one was killed, though some experts argued that Sergeant Ternet should be counted as a casualty. The majority disagreed, pointing out that Ternet was shot in the back by an army general he’d been trying to wake up and warn about the crisis.

An hour before midnight, the country was in the nun’s hands.

---

Evans stood behind Sister Mary as she lifted her megaphone and shouted: “Mister Baxbary, come outside please, or we will have to blow up your door like we did to Miss Wesley.” 

After a minute of silence, a huge man,  augmented from feet to ears, walked out from his office door. He grunted, rolling his augmented eyes, before screaming at Sister Mary: “This is unacceptable! Do you have any idea? I am the CEO of Applesoft! 

“Of course, you are, darling.” Sister Mary patted him on the shoulder and then led the fuming man into the meeting hall where the rest of the hostages waited already. Evans followed close behind, shuddering the moment he saw the room’s occupants. 

The room was packed with important people; he saw owners of all the top 100 companies—which accounted for about three people. The president stood near the back, flanked by the shadow president, both visibly trembling. He didn’t recognize anyone else, but it was clear they were rather important. Meanwhile Sisters were moving between them, distributing blankets and tea.

“Mister Evans, darling.” Sister Mary called.

 “Yea—yes?” Evans stammered, as he stumbled toward her. “Please, darling. Would you be so kind as to mediate the debate for us? These gentlemen don’t seem to be very trusting.”

“I-, of course.” Evans stammered, taking the microphone from her automatically. It took him a good minute to process what he’d just agreed to. His eyes widened as he looked around in panic, every eye in the room locked on him, the camera focused on his face. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say. 

“Ehm,” he coughed awkwardly. 

“What do those crazy women want?” Someone shouted from the crowd.

“Ah, yes.” Evans mumbled to himself, before turning to Sister Mary. “What are your demands?” He tried to sound confident.

“That’s quite simple, dear. We would like to ban augmentations for human bodies.” Sister Mary said with an innocent smile, as if she was asking for extra sugar for her tea. 

Silence spread through the room; no one dared to move, mouths agape and eyes wide with disbelief. Evans eventually managed to collect himself and say: “Ehm, why?”

“Oh, that’s quite simple.” Sister Mary clasped her hands. “The augmentations make daily chores such a simplicity, they have lost their purpose. It’s quite impossible to do honest work and honest work is just the way to heaven.”

“So…” one of the CEOs hedged. “You’re asking us to ban augmentations… because they make life too easy?”

“Exactly!” Sister Mary smiled, handing him a candy. The man was so stunned he took it, unwrapped and started chewing. “It’s not quite everything…” Sister Mary continued. “It’s a good start, but we also believe there should be laws for community service, at least an hour of gardening and 30 minutes of washing dishes each day.” She nodded to herself, making sure she listed everything and then added. “Nothing brings one’s soul closer to the Lord than helping each other.” 

Everyone just stared at her. Most still trying to decide if this was a very elaborate joke. The President tried to argue: “But please, Miss Sister. Think about the economy. That would destroy our productivity, people would… the quality of life index… We just can’t!.” He looked around for support, most were nodding and murmuring in agreement.

“Oh, dear.” Sister Mary said. “Let’s not be greedy. Isn’t happiness more important than profit?” All three owners shook their heads in perfect unison. “But… the statistics, the indexes—” One of them tried, but before he finished, a beeping sound came from every nun in the room.

 “Oh, my,” Sister Mary said. “It seems like we are out of time.”

Horror swept across every face in the room, only to slowly morph into pure confusion as the sisters collected themselves and began to leave the building.

“My apologies,” Sister Mary said on her way to the door. “Midnight passed, so we have Sunday upon us. We will have to finish this some other time. Have a lovely day.” She smiled and closed the door behind them.