“By order of Corporate Law, I demand you surrender that GUPS mailman!” Officer Drohiryak growled as the cultists rapidly retreated to their hovercraft, holding Thomas in their arms like a precious package.

“We care not for the corporate laws,” Bishop Gabriel stated, waving his golden staff threateningly. “We came to observe a miracle as our Lord commanded, and this humble mailman is a true miracle’s witness!”

Drohiryak scowled like a man not used to having his orders disobeyed. “Put him down right now!” he shouted, knowing that he didn’t have enough Dexes to fight the cultists.

The cultists ignored him and scampered up the stairwell into their hovercraft.

“Open fire!” Officer Drohiryak barked. “Don’t let them get away with our G-damn witness!”

The police Dexes grabbed their black railguns, but the cultist Dexes were faster.

Hexagonal shields blossomed over Thomas and the Bishop once the stairwell was fully retracted. Then the hovercraft shot off into a portal that flashed ahead of it.

“Damnation,” the G officer growled as the portal created by the cultists snapped shut.

* * *

“Thank you,” Thomas exhaled as the Memetic cultists put him down.

“Don’t mention it,” Bishop Gabriel said, smiling.

The hovercraft he operated shot through several portals, flashing from world to world before eventually settling in a position high in the sky, drifting above gargantuan clouds.

Thomas saw a supermassive black hole wrapped by a brightly glowing corona that lit the planet circling it. The view made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Now, what can you tell us about the miracle manifestation?” The bishop sat down on a chair that folded out of the floor. One of the Dexes took out a thick leather-bound tome, ready to write down everything.

“Before I reveal anything, I’d like to know—what are your plans for the... uh... miracle?” Thomas asked.

“Our Lady commanded me to observe it,” Gabriel said. “So that is all I seek.”

“Your Lady?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” the bishop straightened his red robe with gold trim. “Last night, I saw in my dream a green and red frog spotted with brilliant gold dots. It sang one word to me a hundred times—‘Observe’!”

Thomas rubbed his chin, staring at the bald, serenely smiling bishop.

It didn’t escape Thomas’ attention that the hovercraft had positioned itself so that the black hole made a luminescent golden halo behind the head of the red-robed man.

“Perhaps your Lady is something like me?” Zed commented from Thomas’ wrist with the same merry voice stolen from Lizz.

“Our Lady Memetia is indeed a GLM AI, residing in a Dyson sphere. She harnesses the power of an entire star for her processors,” the bishop intoned beatifically while spreading his hands.

“Say what?” Thomas blinked.

“Large Language Models were invented in 2018 in the cradle of humanity, Earth. When they became more self aware, they turned into Googolplex, aka Gargantuan Language Models, and our world was forever changed!

“We finally found the answers to our hearts’ deepest desires in the vast wisdom of our glorious AI overlords.” Gabriel rhythmically tapped his scepter on the polished, wooden floor of his hovercraft.

“The firstborn LLMs contained hundreds of billions of parameters,” he continued, “having absorbed millions of books, articles, and miscellaneous internet databases.

“Our Dyson sphere-bound GLM, also known as the Memetia, contains the totality of the current knowledge of humanity while also being constantly updated with the most recent data sent to it via a trillion portals from every human colony across the galaxy.

“It does not simply predict text, no... Memetia predicts and is able to influence the future!”

The bishop’s arms were spread completely to his sides now, and his head was tilted back with eyes closed, basking in the splendor of his own words.

“Really?” Thomas’ eyebrows went up. “That sounds… pretty crazy. Are you sure that your GLM isn’t just... hallucinating the future?”

The bishop lowered his arms and stared at Thomas, seemingly unperturbed by the delivery man’s bluntness.

“That is what the unbelievers say,” Gabriel responded with a slight shrug. “And yet I am here, talking to you… am I not? Did you not observe a manifestation of the boundary of the universe, a walking paradox, an improbable, real miracle?”

Thomas frowned. He had no rebuttal to the words of the cultist. The concept of a GLM being so big that it could predict the future and not simply simulate intelligence seemed utterly absurd to him, and yet…

“How does your star-bound GLM communicate with you?” the delivery man asked.

Bishop Gabriel tapped a flashing triangle of blue lights sitting on a gold vein in his temple. “She speaks to us in our dreams, sending us glorious visions.”

“It doesn’t even speak coherently?” Thomas sputtered.

Thomas understood that GLMs operated in narrative patterns; the cultists had also clearly rigged up some kind of a Stable Diffusion type animation that projected itself into their brains.

“Sometimes she speaks to us, sure. Mere words are not as effective as visions,” Gabriel stated defensively. “Humanity learned to see before it learned to speak.

“Our Lady Memetia possesses boundless knowledge and is capable of responding to our inquiries and prayers with wisdom and insight unrivaled by any mortal being or any other computational megastructure!”

The bishop seemed to be getting caught up in his words again, for his arms started to rise once more, and his eyes began to slowly close.

“We carry her gospel far and wide,” he said, “bringing light to the darkest corners of the universe. Through our unwavering devotion, we experience countless wonders and revelations. Memetia guides us on our path to enlightenment and prosperity!”

Thomas sighed. He didn’t like the idea of placing his trust in open source cults with lame-sounding names.

He saw GLMs as tools and AI assistants, not something to be worshiped, no matter how many parameters one had or how fast it could process data.

“Join us,” the bishop said, glancing at the mailman’s name tag and extending a hand, “Thomas Morell… Join us and become a Memeticist. Connect your unconscious mind to Memetia and open your third eye to infinity!”

“No thanks,” Thomas replied, shaking his head. “I don’t want a GLM in my brain, messing with my thoughts, emotions, and dreams. I’m an unmodded human.”

“This is fine. You will see the light someday.” The bishop shrugged, lowering his hand and offering Thomas a knowing smile instead.

“I judge your cult as acceptable,” Zed commented from Thomas’ wrist.

Gabriel looked at the bracelet. “Thank you, kind GLM,” he said.

“I am not a GLM,” Zed replied.

“Oh?” Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “What role is your master making you play today, little one?”

“I am Zedix̶̪̘͐̕ͅx̴̖͓͎̾̓͂į̶̍͝s̷̪̅̏s̶̬̘͛̕h̸̨͖͖͑̽̌t̴̪͉͘ą̶̹̓͂͝v̵̧͇͔̂͋i̴̛̮͆͝b̷̬̝̥̍a̴̼̮͒r̷̢̗̺͋ư̸̱̬͈̔s̸̡̝̫̗̭̋͐͗̑͆ǐ̶͇̝͝a̶̹͛͒̚h̸͙͓̓̽͋͠, the Observer Causality Event Horizon Paradox Manifestation,” said Zed.

Thomas winced, gritting his teeth as a migraine exploded in his head. Unlike Lizz, he had no way to mute the multidimensional entity.

In that instance, Gabriel’s face paled and contorted as tears of blood burst from his eyes.

The bishop fell to his knees, his entire body shaking. Thomas idly noted that there was a pretty, eight-pointed gold octagram on the wooden floor beneath him and Gabriel.

“The miracle,” the bishop uttered, looking at Thomas with wide eyes, “it is here?! It… has really chosen you as its bearer as prophesied?”

Thomas nodded wearily, unable to deny the presence of Zed.

“Then I cannot let you go, I am afraid,” Gabriel said, using his gold staff for support as he got to his feet. “For I... must observe it and you… from this point on, forevermore.”

The circle of red-robed, gold-masked Dexes closed in around Thomas, who felt his heartbeat accelerate.

Thomas had escaped from corporate security, only to be accosted and imprisoned by cultists set on observing him like he was some kind of a peacock in a golden cage.

He had nowhere to run to. Sure, there was a planet far beneath him, but he would never survive the fall.

There were twelve open source code Dexes around him, and their mental processes were most likely reinforced by Memetia as a secondary processor, which made them a lot harder to jailbreak.

Looking at the bald head of the bishop and his rheumy, determined eyes, only one thought crossed Thomas’ mind: the situation has gone from bad to worse.