The Electric Church Part 23

Appendix Extracts From The Mulqer Codex, Annotated Joint Council File #445EE7 Reviewed by: T. Greene, Joint Council Undersecretary Background: The The Mulqer Codex Mulqer Codex1 is the main text of the Electric Church. It was written by the Church's founder, Dennis Squalor, who remains its chief officer and public face. It is freely available to the public in a variety of paper and electronic formats, and is often quoted by Church members (known colloquially as "Monks"). Although the text is highly personal, loosely organized, and somewhat incoherent, the large number of Church members-all of whom converted-always cite its influence on their decision to join the Church. is the main text of the Electric Church. It was written by the Church's founder, Dennis Squalor, who remains its chief officer and public face. It is freely available to the public in a variety of paper and electronic formats, and is often quoted by Church members (known colloquially as "Monks"). Although the text is highly personal, loosely organized, and somewhat incoherent, the large number of Church members-all of whom converted-always cite its influence on their decision to join the Church.

The entire Codex Codex is approximately 115,000 words long. It is not reproduced is approximately 115,000 words long. It is not reproduced in toto in toto here; much of the here; much of the Codex Codex is arguably meaningless, large tracts of repeated phrases, apparently dictated, and much of it is inscrutable. is arguably meaningless, large tracts of repeated phrases, apparently dictated, and much of it is inscrutable.

Insects, all of you,2 and me, and me,3 all of all of us us insects, scuttling about for a brief atomic flash and then gone. Insects, eating your way upward, supported by the compressed corpses of your ancestors until you fill and burst and collapse down and are in turn compressed, slowly the level rises, your descendants ascending toward the summit, the goal, the exit. Eventually a generation will emerge, free. insects, scuttling about for a brief atomic flash and then gone. Insects, eating your way upward, supported by the compressed corpses of your ancestors until you fill and burst and collapse down and are in turn compressed, slowly the level rises, your descendants ascending toward the summit, the goal, the exit. Eventually a generation will emerge, free.4 This is the plan of the universe. We are raised in increments, slowly, through our collective achievements, the s.p.a.ces between our existences compressed or expanded depending on the requirements of G.o.d. This is the plan of the universe. We are raised in increments, slowly, through our collective achievements, the s.p.a.ces between our existences compressed or expanded depending on the requirements of G.o.d.

And have no doubt that there is a plan. G.o.d created man with with reason reason for for a reason-we are all born with a purpose, both a macro purpose-the destiny of mankind in toto-and a micro purpose, individual to each man. a reason-we are all born with a purpose, both a macro purpose-the destiny of mankind in toto-and a micro purpose, individual to each man.5 The latter is a private communication between each individual and G.o.d-any man who listens will hear his purpose easily enough, whether it be to build pyramids or found churches or serve his fellow men somehow. The macro purpose is the purpose of all mankind, collectively, the purpose we all share. It is none other than our purpose as a The latter is a private communication between each individual and G.o.d-any man who listens will hear his purpose easily enough, whether it be to build pyramids or found churches or serve his fellow men somehow. The macro purpose is the purpose of all mankind, collectively, the purpose we all share. It is none other than our purpose as a race. race. G.o.d did not make this into a mystery, there is nothing mysterious about this purpose. It is part of our genetic code, part of the instinctive instructions mankind has followed since they first raised their gaze from the ground and G.o.d did not make this into a mystery, there is nothing mysterious about this purpose. It is part of our genetic code, part of the instinctive instructions mankind has followed since they first raised their gaze from the ground and thought. thought. We are here to aspire to G.o.dhood. We are here to aspire to G.o.dhood.6 G.o.d does not want subjects. G.o.d does not wish dominion over us. He wishes peers.7 This is why we have always sought to wrest the mysteries of the cosmos from the air, to seize control over the forces we perceive or theorize. This is why we have marched steadily upward, manipulating greater and still greater forces. This is why we have investigated the laws of the physical universe, seeking to understand and then control the world around us: G.o.d created us to learn, to eventually equal him.8 We stand on the cusp.

What is sin? Traditionally we are told sin is crimes against our fellow men, crimes against G.o.d. l.u.s.t, anger, sloth. These are not sins in and of themselves, what makes them sins is how they distract our attention and energy away from the real work G.o.d has outlined for us. Killing a man is not a sin if it is done in the name of our great task.9 Resting a day when you do not have to is a sin because it takes your contribution away from the great task. How many sins are you thus guilty of? All your sins are simply time stolen from the great task that G.o.d has given us. It would take you years, centuries, to make up for even one simple sin against G.o.d's design. You do not have centuries. Yet. Resting a day when you do not have to is a sin because it takes your contribution away from the great task. How many sins are you thus guilty of? All your sins are simply time stolen from the great task that G.o.d has given us. It would take you years, centuries, to make up for even one simple sin against G.o.d's design. You do not have centuries. Yet.

Time is your curse. Lack of time. Everything requires time, and you have so little. This is the fundamental question: How can you be saved when you have no time? How can you possibly combat your sins in the time allotted you?

Consider the technological advances of the human race in recent centuries. We are a race designed to plumb the mysteries of the multiverse. It is G.o.d's plan that we do so, that we investigate and harness the forces of nature. We are meant to find salvation through our progress. But computers cannot output salvation. And we cannot teleport salvation into this room. We cannot splice salvation into our genes. Salvation must be attained. attained.10 Time. Time is the obstacle. You will not live long enough. Even during your time, you are distracted: You must work. You must rest. You must eat. As high as we have risen, there is much to do, and only now are we experiencing the singularity that will allow us to truly devote ourselves to the true work of the race. We stand upon the pyramid of our ancestors, finally close enough to the goal to perceive it correctly, to make out its faint outlines and sense its immense proportions. Time is what is required. More time than the normal laws of our universe allow us, but this has always been our purpose, to master the forces around us, bend them to our will like the G.o.ds we will someday become.

Only through eternity can you be saved. Salvation cannot be attained in a mere century. You may live to be ninety or one hundred. It is not enough time.11 THE secret to it all is right here. We are meant to accept the gift given to us by G.o.d and use our technology our mastery of the universe to extend our lifetimes beyond their natural limits We are meant to cast off our bonds and use our divine intellect to make the sacrifices of our ancestors worthwhile their deaths meaningful Though they are not truly dead Their bodies merely vessels raw materials for the pyramid used for that purpose and discarded Their spirits are eternal and are recycled into new bodies We are in fact our own descendants reborn in order to continue the great task This singularity presents us with the opportunity to leave behind this cycle of manual labor and enter into a new era of intellectual advancement Freed from physical needs man will for the first time be able to devote all of his energy to the Great Task of subduing the universe itself to his collective will How What is the singularity It is the ultimate step casting off our physical bodies and taking on robotic avatars Taking the technology we have created and using it for its true purpose conquering death Free from death we will be free to become G.o.ds ourselves to devote our mental energies to expanding our mastery of the universe At first this will merely be a freedom from sin Without the distracting need to survive to eat and sleep and defecate and struggle struggle struggle The pace of change will increase greatly then rushing us toward the next singularity the next stage when we achieve effortless control over our world when we will be able to imagine our desires and they will become reality We will first be free from sin free to dedicate ourselves to the Great Task and then we will evolve into G.o.ds ourselves Evolution will be purposeful and designed just one of our tools not a blind element of nature and instinct a force we neither perceive nor comprehend but an extension of our divine will As G.o.d intends salvation will be engineered As G.o.d intends we will be finally free to seek ever greater power over the universe As peers of G.o.d.12 Of course, we will be misunderstood. The first wave of the singularity will only be perceived correctly by a small number of people. I am the first, the prototype. I am Patient Zero. From me, the singularity will spread out and engulf the world, all human souls in the universe, but it will take time, and there will be those souls so immersed in sin they cannot find their way out, and they will resist. There will be violence. There will be violence directed at those of us who understand, who have crossed over and willingly taken on the Great Task, and there will be violence as we bring the Great Task to people.

Resistance to evolution is a human trait. We will find ourselves beset by those who will oppose us, or who will reject our offerings and choose instead to remain mortal, to remain trapped in their mortal bodies and impede our work on the Great Task. This cannot be allowed. I pity those who cannot see that the next step of our journey toward divinity is upon us, but we cannot let pity stay our hand. We must remember that the singularity means there is no more death. We must remember our duty to our race, and help all men to attain divinity. There is an endless trail of sunsets ahead of us.13 There are singularities that affect the whole race, the whole world, propelling us forcibly into a new paradigm with all nature, but these are in turn made up of smaller, more personal singularities. I write this after one such experience.14 All of us, scuttling about, live lives which are, in fact mere imaginings. We imagine ourselves as important people, the main character. We imagine ourselves as adventurers, daring the cosmos to kill us. We imagine ourselves as leaders and philosophers, inventing new ways of perceiving the world. It is all illusion. We perform the tasks that G.o.d has given us, and everything else is window-dressing, play-acting. You imagine yourself a criminal,15 leaping across dark s.p.a.ces, guns blazing. But you are still only a servant. You imagine yourself a wit, an intellect, but you discover only what G.o.d has set you to discover. leaping across dark s.p.a.ces, guns blazing. But you are still only a servant. You imagine yourself a wit, an intellect, but you discover only what G.o.d has set you to discover.16 So.

I imagined myself a scientist. A lowly one, a scientist more concerned with survival than discovery. Even in my fever dreams before my epiphany I was not very ambitious. I imagined myself a scientist but I was a clever errand boy, sent by clerks, paid for services.17 I was not aware of the role G.o.d had chosen for me, but I performed it anyway, as we cannot escape our destiny once G.o.d notices us and a.s.signs us a task, a small portion of the Great Task. I was not aware of the role G.o.d had chosen for me, but I performed it anyway, as we cannot escape our destiny once G.o.d notices us and a.s.signs us a task, a small portion of the Great Task.

But I failed. I imagined I failed. I was meant to change history, the history of only a few men but the history of the world in turn, and I failed. Or imagined I failed, because in my despair I thought I committed suicide, but I emerged unscathed, transformed, exactly as G.o.d had expected, intended, scripted. I was cast anew, electrified, preserved, perfected. If only there was more time.18 And then, there was more time, as the singularity subsumed me, remade me, forced me into the current it had stirred into being and my purpose became clear. I knew, then, that I was meant to lead man to G.o.d.

The path that had been obscured before was suddenly clear-the same path, step for step, but suddenly, with my new clarity of mind, there were no obstacles I could not easily triumph over. I immediately moved to claim my first converts, who lined up gladly to take up the Great Task. They did not know what they were doing; they were incorrect in their a.s.sumptions.19 But G.o.d had set out a Great Task for us and they could not resist. What they thought they were accomplishing is of no matter. When they emerged on the other side my peers, they were delighted. They are delighted still. When the time comes they will rise up as my first converts and lead their people forward, and until then they rest. But G.o.d had set out a Great Task for us and they could not resist. What they thought they were accomplishing is of no matter. When they emerged on the other side my peers, they were delighted. They are delighted still. When the time comes they will rise up as my first converts and lead their people forward, and until then they rest.

I cannot rest.

I can never rest.20 We stand on the cusp.

Some will not survive the transformation, such transformations being painful and dangerous. This is to be regretted in the short term, but do not lose sight of the fact that we are all reborn, and all those who flee this new path will return again, to be offered another chance. Some will continue to flee each and every time they face this new choice, so we must be firm. We must, if necessary, let those who are determined to avoid the Great Task slip away, into a final death, because as we evolve and progress into the next level, fewer and fewer biological sh.e.l.ls will remain to be hosts for souls. Our souls and bodies will both be immortal, as G.o.d is immortal, and there will be no more bodies for souls to inhabit. When this finally happens all those who have resisted will be lost forever. This is the fate of those who resist. We will not strike against them. We will not hunt them down and fall upon them with furious vengeance. We will let them flee and cower, and time will slowly leave them behind, forgotten.21 No sacrifices in vain. G.o.d marks all gifts and none are forgotten. Thoughts shattered and peace ruined by nightmares, the creeping creeping creeping of a million disconnected synapses, a million more misconnected, the endless razor-burn in your mind, losing your thoughts the threads going nowhere grinding your metal teeth in savage unhappy frustration-all acknowledged, all worthwhile. Those who do not evolve will be left behind and lost forever but they will meet their reward. Those who willingly or unwillingly step forward will be part of the greatest evolutionary step mankind has ever undertaken, the leap from fragile, tortured mortality replete with mistakes and agonizing doubt, into a new existence of immortality, power, and clear, undoubted purpose. Grieve not for those who will be left behind, for their struggles are over.22 All men and women will be part of this. All will serve. There will be no exceptions.

We stand on the cusp.

The Revelation of G.o.d Unto His Servant23 I stumbled on the road and my sight blurred, and I was shown a vision of what was and what would be. There was a beautiful mansion with many rooms and I went inside as a servant, awed by its size. It was larger on the inside than without, and the rooms were uncountable, and varied greatly in size and opulence. Some were quite small and bare, others were large and lavishly furnished. Some had connecting pa.s.sageways, if you were clever and could discover them, and some were completely sealed off, so that their presence and use was a mystery to all.

The mansion was filled with people, and all were servants though some did not know it. Some of us wore our livery with pride, and others disdained their uniforms and imagined themselves the masters of the house, and ordered us about. But this did not distress me, because careful observation showed that they were as much servants as everyone else, and could be seen hauling burdens or performing tasks.

Sometimes, people chose a certain room and declared it their private property. They formed groups and fashioned weapons from the cutlery, which they brandished at anyone who tried to gain entry to their rooms. Those of us who did not covet the rooms were forced to join in this behavior simply to have someplace to sleep-we either had to join in with existing groups or find our own rooms to claim. And although the number of rooms seemed infinite, we soon found that every room was locked, with angry voices on the other side of the door demanding to know our business.

Still, our duties as servants demanded our time, so we still emerged from our rooms and performed our tasks, and items were thus traded between the rooms from time to time, and as a result life was not intolerable.

Then came a sudden Beast to the mansion after many years of peace and quiet. No one saw the Beast enter the house, and the house had many entrances so it would have been impossible to defend against the Beast even if its approach had been seen. Once inside, the Beast began to tear apart walls. It did not directly attack the servants, often ignoring them completely even as it screeched and battered its huge arms against the walls, tearing stone and wood apart like paper. But some servants were killed as walls fell, victims of the general violence. As rooms were exposed, the residents fled to other rooms and attempted to barricade the walls and doors against the Beast, but nothing could stop it. The Beast growled and the joists and rafters of the mansion rattled and quivered, and walls dissolved and doors bowed inward.

As the Beast penetrated the mansion, an army of vicious animals followed.24 The animals gathered up the servants and organized them, a.s.signing each new tasks and making sure they did not try to group together, especially the servants who had claimed rooms for themselves. Whenever someone would try to escape, or to resist, they were menaced by the animals, their sharp tusks and screeching voices, and some were even killed. Every death would excite the Beasts, their elastic tails twitching in triumph. Sometimes the servants would band together and manage to kill one of the animals, which caused the rest of the creatures great alarm. They retaliated with great violence, and no attempt was made by their cohorts to stop them from taking terrible vengeance on the servants, who quickly learned to respect the Beasts and not provoke them. The animals gathered up the servants and organized them, a.s.signing each new tasks and making sure they did not try to group together, especially the servants who had claimed rooms for themselves. Whenever someone would try to escape, or to resist, they were menaced by the animals, their sharp tusks and screeching voices, and some were even killed. Every death would excite the Beasts, their elastic tails twitching in triumph. Sometimes the servants would band together and manage to kill one of the animals, which caused the rest of the creatures great alarm. They retaliated with great violence, and no attempt was made by their cohorts to stop them from taking terrible vengeance on the servants, who quickly learned to respect the Beasts and not provoke them.

In short time the mansion was completely open inside, one large room, filled with cowering servants who wailed and suffered. The Beasts were quickly followed by others of their kind, until the mansion was filled with them, and the servants were made to serve the Beasts.

And a voice cried to me, "Look and see!" and I was shown the way out of the mansion, a secret path. Most of the servants were afraid, fearful of the Beasts, but those of us who saw listened carefully, seeking the voice, took up tools and sought the sc.r.a.ps of the ruined house and began building a new room within, hidden in the shadows, and came to live there, apart from the other servants. And from time to time people sought us out and joined us in the room, and we began to bring people to it, in order to make them safe. And the Beasts did not know of the room at first, and when they did learn of it, they did not immediately attack, for they could not see how we posed a threat, because we continued to perform our duties and serve them. But with only half a heart. And slowly our ranks swelled, until it began to seem that soon all the servants would be safely within the room, and none left to serve the Beasts.

And then the Beasts, realizing they had let this go on too long, and that we would not easily be turned out of the room, plucked a man from the servants remaining and made him into a crow, their slave, and sent him into the room with the purpose of destroying it, with promises of great riches and safety. The crow was able to fly over the walls of the room and find me, and pecked my eyes out, leaving me blind and bleeding, and the other servants in the room, to escape the crow, fled in horror and flooded the house with chaos that even the Beasts could not control. And the crow, satisfied with b.l.o.o.d.y beak, flew up to the rafters and perched, safe from the chaos, and watched the events with flat, black eyes, cackling that I was dead.

But I was not dead, and I could hear the Voice. I was blind, and the Voice guided me into the shadows and told me I would have no need of new eyes. Around me I could hear the screams of Beasts and men as they battled, and the excited screeching of the crow as it circled above us, triumphant. I was blind,25 but the Voice entered me, and I had command of it, and I found that I could command the Beasts and they would do as I said. And upon seeing this, the crow was dismayed, and fled the mansion. And the Voice said to me, "The way has been thrown open!" and the Beasts bowed before me, for they were merely servants as well, and served the Voice, as we all do. but the Voice entered me, and I had command of it, and I found that I could command the Beasts and they would do as I said. And upon seeing this, the crow was dismayed, and fled the mansion. And the Voice said to me, "The way has been thrown open!" and the Beasts bowed before me, for they were merely servants as well, and served the Voice, as we all do.

Meet the Author

Jeff Somers was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. After graduating college, Jeff drove cross-country and wandered aimlessly for a while, but the peculiar siren call of New Jersey (a delicious mixture of chromium, cut gra.s.s, and indolence) brought him back to his homeland. He worked as an editorial a.s.sistant at a medical/science publisher in New York City. In 1995 Jeff began publishing his own magazine, The Inner Swine The Inner Swine (www.innerswine.com). He's created a Web site specifically for this book: http://www.the-electric-church.com. (www.innerswine.com). He's created a Web site specifically for this book: http://www.the-electric-church.com.

Look out for Jeff Somers' The Digital Plague The Digital Plague.

It Took a Nation Of Millions For Me to Write this Book When I handed my gorgeous wife, Danette, this ma.n.u.script, seeking her usual wisdom and necessary support, she wrinkled her nose and said, "I don't usually read this stuff, do I have to?" But when she brought it back to me she slammed it down on my desk and said, "This is the one that'll make you famous!" and, as always, my beloved and cherished wife was right. I couldn't do anything without her.

When I was a kid and I segued from wanting to be a brain surgeon (too much math) to wanting to be a rock star (too little musical ability) to wanting to be a writer (a terrible, terrible mistake), my parents not only allowed it but encouraged it, and that has made all the difference. Although I suspect my sainted mother has had some regrets.

When I was but a lad with few, if any, impressive credits on my CV and I had the temerity to submit a novel to amazing agent Janet Reid, she not only refused to believe the Internet rumors about me but signed me up despite a typo-riddled ma.n.u.script and a noted tendency toward drink. She's offered nothing but brilliant guidance and affectionate verbal abuse since, both much appreciated.

When fate put me in touch with the ultra-talented Lili Saintcrow and she began editing the original ma.n.u.script of this book, she did not flee in horror, trailing lame excuses, as she would have been justified in doing, but instead improved the book immensely. She took such a liking to it that she said, "Hey, let me show this to my editor," and I'll always be indebted to her for that act of generosity.

When that editor, the megacool Devi Pillai, received the ma.n.u.script she not only bought it, thus making me incrementally richer and more famous than I had been, she also overlooked the many flaws in my personality and worked diligently to raise the book from a mere work of genius to a work of immense immense genius. Her brilliancies often flabbergast me-I'm supposed to be the smart one. genius. Her brilliancies often flabbergast me-I'm supposed to be the smart one.

When my first novel was published some years ago, the editor of my local newspaper (and celebrated novelist in her own right) Caren Lissner cheerfully dispatched a reporter to interview me, and has shown me support ever since, for which I am grateful.

Back in my school days, spent watching TV in a windowless apartment and scientifically testing the limits of human endurance, my friends Ken West and Jeof Vita never made fun of me when I told people I was a writer, though of course they made fun of me for plenty of other things, beginning with the unfortunate mullet I sported back then, and their friendship is still valued today.

At the same time, when few people took me seriously as a writer, I went over to my old friend RA's house and found the first cover of my magazine The Inner Swine The Inner Swine on her fridge, which touched me greatly. And she still acknowledges my friendship, which is even more unbelievable. on her fridge, which touched me greatly. And she still acknowledges my friendship, which is even more unbelievable.

When I was forced to have my photo taken for promotional purposes, the fantastic Barbara Nitke not only acceded to my strange request to be unrecognizable, but made me look cool as well, a monumental achievement I am eternally grateful for.

When, from time to time, I have suffered the cold sweat of self-doubt and thought, momentarily, that perhaps everything I write is not instantly a cla.s.sic of literature that will be celebrated by future generations, Karen Accavallo has always been available for a fast, abuse-laden proofreading job on my work, sometimes accompanied by hilarious and accurate insults. Her willingness to wade into the jungles of my prose should be celebrated.

For years, when I needed someone to have a c.o.c.ktail with, crawling through divey bars and complaining, Misty Vita and Lauren Boland were my reliable cronies and provided a lot of unintentional inspiration and appreciated friendship.

When, a few years ago, clint johns showed up unexpectedly at a reading in Manhattan that did not go particularly well for me, he lied convincingly that I'd been brilliant and I've appreciated his wisdom, enthusiasm for words, and cleverness ever since. Finally, over the years there has been, unbelievably, a dedicated group of subscribers and readers of The Inner Swine The Inner Swine who have endured questionable grammar, typo-ridden issues, and my own boorish editorial presence with good humor and, more important, crumpled dollar bills in the mail-huzzah for them! who have endured questionable grammar, typo-ridden issues, and my own boorish editorial presence with good humor and, more important, crumpled dollar bills in the mail-huzzah for them!

Jeff Somers September 2007 Interview Where were you born?

Jersey City, New Jersey, one of the hottest places in the universe. Scientists can't explain it, but Jersey City in the middle of August is almost hot enough to cause a nuclear reaction resulting in a new sun rising out of the charred remains of the Earth. Unless you like playing stickball, I wouldn't recommend visiting. Although I do have a lot of stickball-related memories.

What is your greatest ambition in life?

To pay off the humongous debts I have accrued in such a short time. Who knew there was a price for my recklessly Herculean binge-drinking? Not me.

You're on a plane with your best friend and your wife. Who gets eaten first, and why?

Me. Absolutely. Within a few days, too. It wouldn't take long. First of all, I'm meaty. Second of all, I'm marinated with cheeseburgers and beer-I'm delicious! Finally, I can be talked into anything, so it wouldn't be long before I was convinced that my purpose in life is to be digested.

When did you start writing?

There was a head trauma when I was about ten years old involving an open fire hydrant, a large red-haired kid, the concrete curb, and my skull. When I stopped speaking in Mandarin and came back to myself, I had the strangest urge to write stories. At first all of these stories were suspiciously similar to The Lord of the Rings, The Lord of the Rings, with t.i.tles like "The War of the Gem" or "The Lord of the Necklaces." I've been writing short stories and novels ever since-my 2001 novel with t.i.tles like "The War of the Gem" or "The Lord of the Necklaces." I've been writing short stories and novels ever since-my 2001 novel Lifers Lifers was reviewed favorably in the was reviewed favorably in the New York Times Book Review. New York Times Book Review. In 1995 I started publishing a zine called In 1995 I started publishing a zine called The Inner Swine The Inner Swine (www.innerswine.com), which has done absolutely nothing for my writing career. Except, perhaps, inhibit it. (www.innerswine.com), which has done absolutely nothing for my writing career. Except, perhaps, inhibit it.

What inspired The Electric Church The Electric Church?

Back in 1989 I was reading Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, which contained a character called the Electric Monk, a machine whose function is to believe things for people too lazy to do so themselves. It was really just the name that struck me, and I wrote what would be the first version of the book over the following few years. Naturally, I took an amusing concept and turned it into something horrifying. Naturally, I let the first draft sit in a drawer for fifteen years, because that's what we writers do: We nap a lot. which contained a character called the Electric Monk, a machine whose function is to believe things for people too lazy to do so themselves. It was really just the name that struck me, and I wrote what would be the first version of the book over the following few years. Naturally, I took an amusing concept and turned it into something horrifying. Naturally, I let the first draft sit in a drawer for fifteen years, because that's what we writers do: We nap a lot.

Where do you live now?

Hoboken, New Jersey, about ten minutes from where I was born. I live in a small house with my lovely wife, referred to in public only as The d.u.c.h.ess, and our three cats. The hierarchy in the house goes: d.u.c.h.ess, cats, me.

Do you have any hobbies?

Is drinking whisky considered a hobby? No? Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it is, at least in some cultures. Aside from that, I sometimes play chess, as long as you consider pushing pieces around the board desperately to be "playing," and watch baseball religiously.

How do you see your writing career developing?

The usual: Skyrocket to the bestseller lists, flesh-pressing with the famous and infamous, snarky mentions on Gawker.com. Then comes the big day: The Sci Fi Channel buys rights to my book and makes a movie based on it with Richard Grieco playing the lead, directed by David Lee Roth in his directorial debut, and I am an instant ten-thousandaire. Years of a jetset lifestyle will rob me of my boyish good looks and creative spark, and I'll finish my days selling personal items on e-Bay to my dwindling population of fans. I will be known as Bathrobe Man by the neighborhood kids because I will always be wearing the same tattered bathrobe.

What would you change about the world if you could?

There would be more used book stores. There simply aren't enough cool used book stores in the world. That, and I'd eliminate this ridiculous requirement that we all wear pants all the time.

What song is stuck in your head this week?

"William Holden Caufield" by Too Much Joy.

1 The t.i.tle does not have any apparent meaning, and no explanation has ever been publicly offered by the Church. The t.i.tle does not have any apparent meaning, and no explanation has ever been publicly offered by the Church.

2 Squalor consistently refers to humans who have not joined the Electric Church as "insects." The image resurfaces throughout the work, although it is interesting that Squalor also refers to himself in this manner, usually in the same sentence. Squalor consistently refers to humans who have not joined the Electric Church as "insects." The image resurfaces throughout the work, although it is interesting that Squalor also refers to himself in this manner, usually in the same sentence.

3 Squalor remains an unknown quant.i.ty. Prior to Unification he was a student of some promise, earning advanced degrees in biology and computer science. After the turmoil of Unification, he disappeared from public records for a decade, emerging only after having gone through his own process of cyborg conversion-in short, becoming a Monk-and founding the Church. Squalor remains an unknown quant.i.ty. Prior to Unification he was a student of some promise, earning advanced degrees in biology and computer science. After the turmoil of Unification, he disappeared from public records for a decade, emerging only after having gone through his own process of cyborg conversion-in short, becoming a Monk-and founding the Church.

4 4 There is a sense of contempt for biology throughout the There is a sense of contempt for biology throughout the Codex Codex and other Church writings, accompanied by a reverence for technology. The physical body produced by evolution is often referred to in terms of disposability and corruption (i.e. rot, decomposition, impermanence) whereas technology-obviously represented by the Monks' artificial bodies-is presented as lasting forever. Monks will often stress the eternal nature of their bodies when accosting citizens in the streets. and other Church writings, accompanied by a reverence for technology. The physical body produced by evolution is often referred to in terms of disposability and corruption (i.e. rot, decomposition, impermanence) whereas technology-obviously represented by the Monks' artificial bodies-is presented as lasting forever. Monks will often stress the eternal nature of their bodies when accosting citizens in the streets.

5 Throughout the Throughout the Codex Codex there are many of these binary statements, pairs of options and conditions that Squalor compares, resulting in a very simple and compelling view of the universe-there is good and bad, eternity and d.a.m.nation, sin and industry. there are many of these binary statements, pairs of options and conditions that Squalor compares, resulting in a very simple and compelling view of the universe-there is good and bad, eternity and d.a.m.nation, sin and industry.

6 The Electric Church was granted Recognition as a legal religion, protected under standing order 778, eight years ago. The Electric Church was granted Recognition as a legal religion, protected under standing order 778, eight years ago.

7 7 Throughout the Throughout the Codex, Codex, Squalor shifts from venerating G.o.d as the creator and the architect to dismissing G.o.d as a fantasy to be ignored, often within the same page or even the same paragraph. Squalor shifts from venerating G.o.d as the creator and the architect to dismissing G.o.d as a fantasy to be ignored, often within the same page or even the same paragraph.