how would you categorize this?

[iconoclast]

I have a novel set in the latter half of this century. It is told from the viewpoint of a woman who wakes from a terrible accident, finding herself adopted for something great: the Embodiment of State. She has been deliberately prepared to have no distinguishing features or potent abilities: her face remade as to be bereft of attraction, her figure short and dumpy. She bears no actual name. All of these have been wrought on her to make her easily overlooked so that she may assume authority without identification. Early in her career, the woman makes a ostensible acceptance of the Christian faith, contrary to the designs of those supervising her, which may jeopardize her future destiny as Government.

The rationale for her has been built on a premise for political reform: establish a secular minarchist government with theocratic trappings, based on a radical reworking of the Bible, used as a manual for bureaucratic service.

The novel mixes politics, Christianity and secularism, mystery (more like whodunit). Issues of faith and addiction are addressed. Magic, fantasy, divine intervention do not occur although Christians are present. Though there is evil and good no one is cast perfectly for either side. The novel is set in what might be a dark utopia, but groups of disparate characters are not involved. The story is told simply from a very limited and flawed point of view, comprised of thoughts and inclinations of this one woman. The dialogue may at times resemble that of CS Lewis' Screwtape Letters.

I am now wondering at the appropriate readership though I am prepared for a small one. I have posted a chapter of this (written as a novella) to a secular forum where I have received relatively favorable reviews which have pointed out its dense plotting and intricate prose. Those who seem most attracted to the story and characters are women readers who have been largely away from the church; those least attracted, males. A seminary intern at my church is now reading this chapter.

I will post sections of another chapter here.

[iconoclast]

I wanted to post more of this, but differences in formatting is going to make it tedious. It's probably better to see if there's an audience for this first anyway.

Nibble as you like.

+++


By Farce Ye Shall Know Them (4,727 words)


The two women embraced then parted, gazing at each other. She liked the way her tutor would peer at her, studying her face.

It had been still only a few years after completing her Convalescence. She had been told how the accident had left third-degree burns on her head, face, hands, and legs. The restorative skin jobs left her complexion clear. The great aid under her tutor Jemmy's soothing care removed traces of the trauma from that incident though it did not return remembrance. Thanks to Jemmy she now was in possession of a great identity, such vast potential at her beckon.

Jemmy spoke, 'Child, let intimacy commence. She shall make it easy.'

They drew together again to pelt each other with kisses and caresses before returning to sit on the wooden railing, picking up their bowls to spoon in blueberries. Blustery winds made their clothes billow. Their ages appeared close but the slender blonde held the upper hand, tenderly caressing the trimmed tresses of the plumper other. Eating for some time, that one spoke,

'Jemmy dearest, the old farmer must have been stirred by pity to permit such sampling of his crop.'

'Child, he was beholden, for reward was earned.'

Mother and Child were their favorite terms for each other. Though not related by blood, neither blanched using such labels. They didn't mind letting others use their more official terms of Mentor and ProtegeEto their disparagement's content. Teacher/student seemed trite; they were more inclined toward Tutor and Pupil. Ward was used, but it stood alone, orphaned, fit only for the one called Child. Jemmy reminded her how she'd spent her childhood in a fostering facility, enjoying liaisons with other children who were all taken to other homes till she was alone, then had outings with her daykeepers Auntie Erin and Uncle Fable, soaking in life - all of these joyous memories re-instilled.

'Mother, this is such an easy tickle to speak cultured, so refined!'

'An easy tickle? Then dare it is also: which of those present will be first to slip into first person?'

Discourse of Government mostly consisted of proclamations and edicts issued in obtuse dialect. Their tongue needed careful cultivation and cleansing from personal reference. Surely others would balk or gasp at such conventions bantered between them as they romped in the knowledge that their diction reeked stilted and ostentatious. They agreed long ago to restrict this dialogue between themselves even in bowels of their headquarters.

Who would lapse into first person? Such voice assumed by others as default was what she learned was at best expedient disguise. Uttering words as a personalized oneself supposedly could make that role more fun. One was free to be waxing, changeable, unaccountable; to be anyone, armed with a rudimentary persona with an ostensible name. Speaking in first person gave that extra edge of self-efficacy needed to carry out acts of judgment.

But like all good things, such role-playing soon lost its luster. Too much 'me' felt parochial and hypocritical. She knew worse epithets, remembering her mentor's words at the start of training:

It is vain to speak as myself. Remember, I is the middle of sin.

Jemmy continued, 'Another two rules of dialogue shall be cast into play. Terms must remain neutral, though one may resort to scriptural language. And interlocutors must be always speaking in truce, for speech must be alert and guarded.'

'These conditions place the Child at disadvantage. Mother is the auditor of scripture.'

'Faultily stated; she is only a compiler. Do not be anxious, dear. This is not training, only sport; time will make evident if this dialogue should prove laborious. As being on a summit on an oxygen-starved range, this play cannot be done for long or unaided.'

'The child can address mother by name, is not true?EEliciting Jemmy's nod, she ventured, 'Surely, reciprocity must be bounded.'

Jemmy shook her head. 'The Ward requires none. She must be content being called the Incarnate of State. Anything less is blasphemous and leads to idolatry. This is the nature of the Incarnate, the Embodied: to stand sacrosanct, unsullied by human convention.'

'The Embodied is enveloped in human form.'

'The lack of comprehension exhibited by the Child in this matter indicates why she must continue to be addressed in this manner.' Jemmy's face did not change expression, ever serene, but the other felt that touch of admonishment.

'According to scripture, not only did the first human dispense names to the creatures of the earth he was furnished with one as well.E

Turning to the horizon, Jemmy's voice grew softer. 'When the Ward is recognized as being of age she shall be identified as Blessed Element, otherwise addressed as simply State, the Institution Incarnate, so that she may dispense justice and issue edicts over this nation. It is essential that State develop the mindset. She shall believe in nothing but know all things.E

Such heady contraptions. Already she felt secure; Jemmy had reminded her so often of these attributes of hers she knew these to be first nature, the assurance of things future. 'The Ward wishes to point out that Mother is an Incarnate of State as well.E

'The one bearing the moniker Jemmy serves only a surrogate for the Improved Version. She knows too well the Incarnate is State in guise and must be addressed as such.E She clasped the other's hands. 'Always remember the one speaking to State is only a shadow.E

'Mother is more than that. She has flesh and a spirit housed within. All others are vapors, mere breaths, vainly existing in mounds of transitory dust.E

Jemmy reached out to the other's forehead to graze her finger down the terrain, traversing between her eyes, over and under her nostrils, applying a bit more pressure on the cleft of her lips then edging off her chin. This was Jemmy's signature of approval.

'The Child demonstrates insight. How well she reads the artifice of human nature. Her servant cannot accept such praise though. Thy parent is but a prototype, raised originally from sentient dust. Though having undergone Discipline and ushered into Revolution to serve as an Incarnate, the flesh housing her was corrupt to begin with. Her edifice remains unstable and prone to breakdown. On the other hand, the Incarnate has been conceived immaculately by adoption to assume her role as the Child of State.E

'Can the Child ask Mother to entertain a divergent notion?EJemmy nodded in response. 'She worries her tutor is only concerned in eliminating all vestiges of humanity in this receptacle. After all, she was born human. All humans have personas.E

'Does this matter need addressing again?E Jemmy did not look put out as she rifled through the other's hair. 'Persona is merely a sarcophagus. The Ward knows too well her true self is the Organ of State. As larva ascending toward maturity, it is imperative she accept her adult form, the sooner the better so as to be divorced from its antecedents. Her tutor is putting in all effort to ensure that the Ward remains State above and beyond humanity.E

She gave Jemmy a look and meant it to be petulant. 'Without a name, any child will die from lack of proper affection.E

'Very well then, the tutor resorts to addressing the Incarnate as Molly--'

She clapped her ears and shrieked, 'That name is too plain!E

Her mind conjured up the specter of a freckled nineteenth century country gal donned in a petticoat. She pinched her own cheeks for emphasis, catching a stare from Jemmy, speaking with sudden gravity,

'The tutor jests not. It is as the child states: blessed is the plain one, for hers is the realm of State. Her visage is living witness of this. Unnoticed and unseen, the Incarnate will dwell among all things and remain unapproachable. It is not curse but privilege, child. Understand and accept. If--'

'No need to issue a threat. Molly knows intimacy would cease.EShe turned her attention back to the remaining berries.

Jemmy continued over her, 'Names are temporary fashions, wielded at the bearer's inclination. They do not serve as evidence of faith, are inadequate cover for the permanence of identity. Molly ought to be thankful that she is nothing to look at or endowed of attention.E

'She wants to be distinguished with something.E

'As all children do. In time she will learn ignominy is valor. Take consumption of these blueberries for example.E

Jemmy instructed her to treat each mouthful carefully between shuttered lips. Chew and ingest moderately, even in moments of sudden providence. Likewise, State must regard everything with deliberation while hiding her intentions.

Molly dutifully masticated on the soft lining of the berries. Feeling the fleshy pulp slide between her molars, comprehension soaked into her features. She looked up, taking care to only reveal a sliver of her teeth stained between dyed lips: 'Molly expresses her continuous pleasure being instructed by her tutor.E

Jemmy laid aside her bowl. 'The Ward of State shall be sent Outside. She must care less of her duties and routines, concentrate more on her ascension to Disciples rank. The surrogate before her grows weary with governance as her human frame creaks.E

She solicited Molly to unbutton the top of her blouse and did the same herself.

Both looked on the other's neckring set with a white opal. She recalled the moment Jemmy gave her that stone upon release from the hospital where she had spent Convalescence. Inscribed on that stone was her default persona name in use in Government Service, a label to mask her core character. She was disappointed. A nursery rhyme taught by her tutor resounded in her mind: Molly, ever so roly-poly, sat feeding on curds and whey. Must she be burdened with this caricature name? Jemmy saw her reaction and told her not unkindly how her nature so precisely fit her persona: plain, ordinary, indistinguishable.

Was she so that? No other gifts whatsoever?

She longed to have another form of power over others. She witnessed how her tutor's gaze caused many in its wake to shudder and buckle, her sharp tongue provoking wincing reactions. How funny it was to see these.

She told her tutor of her desires. It was a litany she repeated again and again. Would Jemmy ever tire of this?

'There is a reason why the bearer of these has no special talent at all, why her features must merit not a second glance. Only knowledge of her lineage is sufficient: she has been adopted by an impersonal institution to be the sapient face of State.E

Though still not in complete agreement she acquiesced to her tutor's judgment.

Jemmy continued: 'Her success depends on how far she is able to attempt a foray into either of her two missions. One is to establish a firm contact with the heretics--'

'The wayward.E Jemmy let in a cackle. That sect once flourished throughout the country but had waned due to its turgid and incessant obsession on minute details of interpretation within its original text, hampering their ability to meet the three standards of excellent character - validity, reliability and generalizability, which earned them disdain among commoners. Johnathan Faber in his visionary discretion had suggested a way out for the creed's continued efficacy; he sought to remake the text of these heretics as a conduit to revamp the national bureaucratic apparatus into a more service-oriented institution. In doing so he more importantly had uncovered a gospel better properly fulfilled as Statecraft embodied in its bearers.

The pagans showed their gratitude to his proposal by issuing a number of derisive salvos. Their tactics backfired. Neither populace nor the government followed up on them except for the stinging charge of intolerance. Their expertise was no longer welcomed which alerted the pagans to the extent non-recognition of their essence had grown to the point. It was said they had retreated to their forefathers' precedents of holding cabals to avoid attack and harassment.

Molly proclaimed, 'This vessel of State shall go and attempt to gain a foothold with the pagans, point out their incorrect understanding, the faulty application of their own texts. It will be her utmost goal to convince one or more of their convicts to convert over to the Service.E

Jemmy murmured. 'Their familiarity with the original scriptures could make them invaluable prey to encourage the Gov Serve flock into closer adherence to the Servant ethos. Some pilot attempts were initiated but I've just been too occupied in other affairs--'

'Forgive the intervention of this vessel, mom. A slip into the first person familiar has been detected though this Child thinks that was deliberate.E

Jemmy displayed a soured smile. 'The Incarnate is quick to recognize flaws, as is the characteristic trait of the improved version. Though this had been sport, it has been great strain on your tutor--'

'Second person, mother; she must be tiring.E

'Aye, and to address her pupil with a facetious name, she cannot maintain this intimate tongue consistently. Forgive the failings of your tutor. It would be better to address this one as internee, for as the saying goes, "Those who can't do, preach."'

'The one who speaks to Mother is only improved, not perfected--'

Jemmy turned adamant and spoke forcefully: 'State must adhere to the concepts instilled in her mind: keep the vigil strident, never allow Discipline go fallow, take heed to avoid issuing airs. Maintain surveillance all times even in moments of leisure. Only then will Soul and Vision be united, leading into statism, whence the Incarnate then can bloom into Institution.E

She noted how Jemmy seemed so wan though she valiantly persisted speaking in such impersonal elegance. Her tutor declined such indication of sympathy however, saying,

'The improved version need not be concerned with the human failings of the other. Only permit her to speak at times in the vulgar tongue.E

Molly's eyes lit with revelation. 'As mother is not perfect, the child can still join with her as human, even if it should be play. The other prerogative should not be downplayed: it is essential that State maintain a human facade so as to relate to her constituents better.E

'Well spoken: your servant did not take that into consideration, forgive her--'

'No offense taken, mom; no need to reiterate one's plea. Please speak without inhibition, resort to the familiar. The Incarnate desires to converse in play. She -- I want to act too.E

Her mentor signaled for the time of speaking truce to be over. Their bodies sagged heavily on the railing.

Jemmy sighed. 'My wit keeps getting in the way; I can't carry out this mission assigned to you because I can't help teasing the wayward. They've so fun when mad. Your nature will likely make more inroads and they will fall prey to your siren calls.E

'I shall keep the vows of our conspiracy: State shall never be revealed in the flesh.E

'Yes, keep looking from within to the outside, be ever watchful.E

She instructed Molly to keep one other mission for the distant offing, better attempted after making Disciples rank. She was to trial a First Colors interview on someone, possibly her own protege one sworn to her only. That one would never be allowed to see Jemmy.

'Surely we can make it a trinity of sorts?E Molly threw in a bit of scripturalizing to make it palatable. She looked up Jemmy expectantly.

The visage of her tutor was stone. A colder response: 'Has the First Widow ever greeted you?E

This was the particular stamp of their relationships: dyadic. That between Madam Dowager and Jemmy, the first pair, was exclusive. Mountain-mover Jemmy might be she could not make their relationship into a threesome. Molly might be the Embodiment of State, the ultimate goal of the Dowager's efforts to make Government Incarnated. Yet her person was regarded as best a cuckoo. Jemmy told Molly the Madam often called her an isotope.

'Why the protege must always be female?E

Jemmy answered, 'Madam has set these parameters. Male organisms naturally hold a natural despise of their female counterparts, particularly those who do not meet the visual standard. We, the ugly and foolish ones, must put these men to shame. If you catch a man however, don't let me be your stumbling block. That may be part of your growing arsenal of prerogatives.E

Her tutor did not explicitly say either mission needed to be fulfilled to ensure promotion but she was determined to try; securing one or the other should ensure a smooth entry into the Disciples and boost her into unification with Jemmy. She delighted in the prospects proffered. She gratefully accepted these two missions, vowing to do her best to please her tutor and mentor.


+


She caught the waft of doughnuts baking and headed for the cafe. As she pushed open the glass entrance doors she instinctively scanned the interior for spies. None were around but she had the distinct sense of being watched.

Call it paranoia but she felt there were those who had no reason being there except to watch her. They seemed to be more in force whenever she was Outside. She expressed her concern about these to Jemmy who told her not to mind them. She decided to coin them minders.

She looked a long time wistfully at the inviting whirls and glazes. Nobody told her to move on ahead. She decided a purchase was too extravagant for her first day; the aroma would fill her stomach her just fine. There was a cafEwith these same dimensions, the same kind of odor emanations as in headquarters but the milieu was the difference: she was free to be in the persona of her inclination.

She spotted an open table, slid her fingers over its surface then examined the sling pouch which she had been issued the day before. It was exceedingly worn down by a Gov Serve who'd kept it for many years but finally turned in upon retirement. From it she removed a slender slightly worn leather booklet.

This was Jemmy's copy of Faber's 365 Verses to Live By, text selected carefully to reveal essential aspects of servanthood. Each verse was to be read and meditated per week; fully seven years were required to finish one reading or turn. Jemmy informed her with each passing turn as a Servant in State she would find herself on a higher plane of understanding. She reprimanded herself aware she'd read more than half of these without really dwelling on their meaning.

She resolved to examine these verses outside, aware of the greater need for her to imbue with the world more. Her mindset, instinctively housed within sheltered confines, could not develop that fine sense of intuition of being alert to act as bequeather of Government in all circumstances unless she spent more time Outside. She readily admitted she wasn't adept at communing even among other Servants. Vision was at its most effective when working alone, a hindrance when in the company of others. Yet socializing was a necessary part of her growth; Jemmy told her she needed to develop the sense to apply Vision with animates in all situations.

Surely the first verse could lead her into such insight. She turned her eyes to the plain script printed on premium Japanese washi paper. She pondered over the day's devotion, closing her book. Intaking deep breaths to induce meditation, she gave thanks for this pearl of wisdom a proper Servant should know.

Had someone been speaking to her? She turned and saw a young animate - regard her as human - about her age, holding a mug of hot coffee.

When she turned in the direction of the woman, she noticed the other gave her a brief stare then made a quick half-turn meshed with the slight tinge of embarrassment. Why did they do to her that every time? Jemmy told her this was because people whether of GS or those on Outside had an innate apprehension towards State. Was she already so unapproachable? She did not know whether this was an attribute to be proud of because she desired intimacy. Perhaps the woman would go away and the sting of being avoided would immediately diminish.

She remembered that she ought to speak then to alleviate this moment of suspension, give impetus to the other to leave.

'What interests you?E As soon as she said it she knew it sounded stilted. She did not know what else to say in this awkward moment.

She observed the woman stammer, as if digesting her words, then saw color flow into the woman's face as if life was being induced there.

'Can I sit here?E

She immediately motioned the woman to join her, noticing the many tables unoccupied.

She was asked, 'Are you from around here?E

'I have been sent here on short-term assignment.E She hoped what she had on looked like appropriate normal work attire.

'For how long?E

'I'm not sure,E which was correct as she could be called away on sudden notice. 'It could be six months, shorter.E

'That's awful,E the other woman sipped her drink. 'How long have you been here?E

'This is my first day.E

'You must be nervous! What are you going to be doing?E

'Nothing special. Mostly small tasks and errands.E

'You don't seem too nervous about your job.E

'Actually, I look forward to it, so why worry?E

The woman seemed to want to talk more. She felt it was time to stop. It was better that people knew less though she didn't want to hurt this woman as she seemed to be so nice.

'Sorry, I've got to be going.E She gave a half-glance at her pager, never carrying a mobile to avoid audible detection: 'It's about that time.E

'Oh, I didn't mean to hold you up, especially on your first day.E

The woman looked hurt. She didn't like to hurt people. Her apology struck her as sincere. Was she too a Servant? Surely she would have given some cue by now.

'It's just that I saw you reading something then you closed your eyes before you started your breakfast. Do you happen to believe in something?E

She scolded herself for not reading this in the alley where she took shelter. She couldn't just leave but this could blow her cover: it was time to end this even if it hurt. 'I believe in a cult: christianity.E That should embarrass this woman enough, who would make excuse to leave. She then herself could exit without worrying being followed.

'I'm a believer too! It's not a cult! You don't have to apologize for it!E Before she could reply the woman went on, 'I sensed you were one of us because I overheard you reading softly that verse, "Emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant."'

Her answer didn't have the intended effect but made her hope for something which had seemed so remote now leapt as possibility. This woman could be that avenue.

The woman flung out her hand. 'My name's Julie.E

She grabbed it, hoping hers wasn't too strong. When Julie asked for hers, she supplied with 'Carlyle SeasonsE and entered into the role. Jemmy said Molly shouldn't exercise this particular incognito persona in GS anymore. She had used it often in observation mode the conduct of others in the Service. Based on her reports Jemmy determined their continued worthiness in the agency after hearing her reports. But the name and its persona could be employed with these people outside unfamiliar with it.

Julie told her excitedly, 'Why don't you come to my Bible study group? We meet every Sunday night to look at passages from the New Testament.E

Carlyle's heart leaped at the invitation. The phrase 'New testamentE thrilled her as it was one of those bandied by them. The Faber Revised Version made no such distinctions between the two divisions. The book was already over two thousand years old.

Sunday was her day off; she wouldn't have an excuse not to attend. She tried to convey difficulty anyway.'I'm not sure I can promise to attend regularly. I have a busy schedule.E

'Most of us do. That's why Sunday is best for us.E

Carlyle couldn't quite understand this woman's reasoning. She was quite sure people worked far fewer days a week, something like three, four days, given their inclination into sloth. She saw Julie's ecstatic face, turned so easily.

Julie said, 'I remember you said you had to be going, so I won't bother you anymore. Here's my contact info.ECarlyle shouldn't hesitate trying to reach her. 'Oh, I'm going to be so happy! You don't know how much this means to me!E

Now she'd hurt her if she didn't attend. Only after the woman left did Carlyle allow herself smile. Should she succeed in putting a foot into that group, maintain it, this would be the first step toward getting back to Jemmy.

Should she inform her tutor? She would be chided for merely reporting and not accomplishing entry. She must fraternize first. This Julie struck her as too easy; she looked to meet someone more formidable.

She met that Julie woman in front of the cafe Sunday evening from where they proceeded to take the bus. The bus route was becoming quite familiar to Carlyle as she made her rounds. It occurred to her she should wear shades. She made a mental note to file a requisition for a pair. She was glad having being assigned yesterday a one-room tenement, an upgrade from the cot she'd been using at the shelter. If she made headway with Julie's group she'd need a place to invite in people.

The pair dropped off in front of a store, using its rear entrance to go up a flight of stairs leading into a small room. Carlyle took a snap survey of its occupants: a half dozen people seated around a table with black-rimmed texts and notebooks lying on it. It had the tight griminess of a custodian's office like the one where she kept her uniform on Tuesday evenings at the runaways home where she cleaned toilets on the graveyard shift. The people with their furtive faces and coiled figures looked not of better quality than the room. She did not recognize anyone, which made her feel relieved. Religions had a way of attracting the downtrodden too often frequently encountered in her work. In her estimation, this 'way' had come quite far down from the status formerly enjoyed under the earlier regime. Her government was likely more intimately concerned with it than its predecessors but people shouldn't know that.

Despite the crampness two seats were brought to the table. Carlyle was forced to accept the courtesy of a proper chair while the other seemed content propping herself on a sturdy crate. She greeted a boy with disheveled hair and an unwashed odor in his clothes, likely a college student. She recognized no else.

A lanky man in his thirties stretched out his hand which she took with more assertiveness than with Julie. He spoke with the slight hesitation and askew glance she'd grown to accept:

'I'm Rudi Daniels, the leader of this study group. Actually, this is one of the largest groups around, so you should feel comfortable.' She doubted it but flashed a polite smile.

Only a few dared to look at her full frontal. She felt tension in the air. Perhaps it was more that they seemed aware themselves reduced to a forlorn minority. This thought gave her comfort regarding the special-ness of her own calling. Rudi told her that Julie had informed him what she had been reading so he thought it was appropriate to study that night the first part of the following chapter up to the eleventh verse.

Everyone but her had their textbooks. Rudi lent her one of his and she gave this Julie a quick reassuring smile to show it wasn't her fault for not ascertaining earlier.

This version read differently for her, some words changed or added. She noted the primary flaw of the version here was its lack of policy application specificity which must account for its vagueness. While its proclamation of self-sacrifice was admirable it was misdirected to someone not called the Child? Carlyle's fingers located the opal under the fabric and to rub it to assure herself of her mission.

[Jeff Gerke]

Hi, Iconoclast, and welcome to The Anomaly!

Based on your description in the first message I would call this a science fiction. I'm sure you could get more finely grained--like political dystopia--but SF might be all you need for categorization purposes, especially among Christian publishers.

One of the cool things about SF is the ability to take trends you see today and extrapolate them into the future 100 years or so. Not only is it fun to explore like that, it can work as awesome cautionary storytelling. Like 1984 or Fahrenheit 451.

Jeff

[iconoclast]

Thanks Jeff for monitoring this forum and for your remarks.

I also thought of this as science fiction - and political dystopia too. It might fit in the sub-genre forum discussion of "near-future" (which, if you have the 'power', this thread could be moved there).

It's (out) here because a few who have read it say it's allegorical, or as one Christian put it, transgressive - meaning, Christians shouldn't be reading this, I guess.

If this other-religion I've built up seems so worked up for naught (with the disclaiming title up front), I based it on a sci-fi writer who was quoted in a Time magazine article people are so gullible that if he invented one they would follow it. A few years later he put out the book Dianetics. L. Ron Hubbard was right.

My next question would be: is there a Christian audience (interested) for this?