The Vacation That Changed My Life

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I don't know who to blame it on this time, but I couldn't resist doing a 'Staycation' story. So I decided to whip this little ditty out when I should have been sleeping.

This story takes place in my Sweet Sixteen universe.

The Vacation That Changed My Life

It all happened when my family went to the annual Blessed Temple training camp.

I was supposed to go, too, but I didn't qualify. I hadn't properly memorized the long manifesto of the Blessed Temple religion, and they saw in me signs that I was couldn't be trusted to fully swallow their doctrine without question, which means that I might gain dangerous knowledge that would end with me going to Hell.

Do I sound a bit bitter? Actually, I'm ecstatic that I couldn't go. I'm still not sure what kind of indoctrination... I mean training that they receive, and I'm perfectly happy to not find out. I can guess well enough.

What is the Church of the Blessed Temple all about?

I'm not surprised that you never heard of us, I mean them.

You see, when the Santa Claus machines started coming out, there was a lot of fear that people would lose their work ethic. God told us that we are to live by the sweat of our brow. Actually, he said that to Adam and Eve, but most legalists fully believe that that applies to every one of their descendants.

But the big issue is the Autodoc that blesses us all with an unlimited life span -- not the "three score and ten" that they like to quote.

Why Temple?

Because our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit, that's why. Far be it for us to modify it. Far be it for us to improve it. In fact, in the faction of that movement that I had the misfortune to be born into, far be it for us to interfere with God's will should we be stricken with some disease or injury. If God wants us to live, he will supply a miracle.

I'm serious.

I found out later that there are less strict congregations. There are even congregations where a full body rebuild is acceptable, as long as there are no modifications.

Even those congregations would be too strict for me.

So, the compound was almost empty; only being inhabited by the mothers of young children, the elders, and others who needed to miss out on the indoctrination, I mean training camp.

Anyhow, I already knew how we were the chosen few; those few who have held to The Law and not been contaminated by the outside world. We were the few who are not apostate; who will not go to Hell for debasing the temple of the Holy Spirit.

So I was doing my standard lessons using my computer terminal when I saw an icon that I had never seen before.

It seems that there is a much bigger world out there, and that everyone in the world has the right to access the entirety of the World Wide Web.

Of course, you all know that the world governments have pretty much been pared down to mere shadows of their former strength and authority. After all, how can you hire people to enforce laws when, strictly speaking, people don't need money to survive and live quite well? Just go to one of the billions of empty homes and move into it. The Santa Claus machine will then make anything you want.

The governments still deputize volunteers who are passionate enough to go after those who really insist on hurting others. And there are still more that make it their business to search for and rescue those who are trapped by the various cults and other despotic organizations.

So I greedily lapped up the information, and even chatted with someone from outside.

I was startled to find that keeping us ignorant of the outside was actually illegal. I could choose to continue to live inside the order, but I didn't have to.

When we were done chatting, all evidence disappeared from the computer.

The next day, I took a walk in the woods. I had to let one of the elders know that I was going out, but it's not like he was going to follow me. He was happy to see that I chose to be active instead of sitting in the house all day.

And sure enough, right where my mysterious friend said it would be, there was a Santa Seed.

I followed the instructions. I pushed the red button and set it on the ground. When a hopper grew out of it, I started throwing twigs and weeds and grass into it. It munched all of my offerings and swelled up. When it said that it had enough to work with, I picked up the little tablet that it gave me and went home.

The next day, it was gone. But I had expected that.

I looked at the tablet and it pointed me to an opening into a tree that led down to an underground home.

I almost felt guilty as I got onto the autodoc, but my mysterious friend's tales of what the outside world is like convinced me that it was what I really wanted.

A few hours later, I walked out -- looking exactly the same as before. But I had a secret hidden inside of me.

Nobody noted or even cared when I went back home.

The compound was mostly empty. My home was totally empty. The mothers staying behind to care for their little ones had no time to give me any heed. The elders were too old and tired to bother with me.

Nobody bothered with me. Nobody cared.

It was a wonderful week.

I explored the big wide world while staying at home. I tried on every kind of virtual body I could think of while my regular body rested, exercised, showered, or whatever it needed to do to stay healthy.

But I found out something.

I found out why I had always felt out of phase with the rest of the compound. I found out where that vague longing came from. I found out why I felt so envious of the nice things that the girls got to wear.

I found out that I was a girl.

Once I found that out, I started exclusively choosing female forms. I cried every time I had to go back to my old body. I refused to accept anything but a female body. I refused to wake up from my dream for the rest of the week.

Anyone looking in would have seen me wandering around the house, sleeping, exercising, showering, or whatever. If they looked close enough, they would have seen a blank expression on my face.

But the people I was visiting were all wonderful.

Some were volunteers that specialize in freeing, deprogramming, and welcoming the former members of cults. Others were just normal people going about their normal activities.

I was encouraged to visit other communities. I was encouraged to use my freedom.

I made lots of casual friends, especially among the communities of former cult members. I made a few closer friends. Some were well on their way to being like family to me. In fact, a family of former cult members offered to adopt me.

But the day came when my family would be back. On that day, I had to wake up from my dream. That was the end of my staycation.

I hated going back to my boy body. I really hated it.

My family came back and, rather than tell me how much they missed me, berated me for missing out on that important camp, and set up a stringent program to get me properly ready for next year's camp.

That was all I needed to know. That was the final test.

The next night, when everyone was asleep, I used my connection to the wider world to look through the house with the cameras that I had hidden.

I walked out the door, keeping to the shadows. I snuck through the compound and to the hidden door that a robot dispatched from the hidden underground home had created.

I walked through the forest to my secret little hidey hole and crawled back into the autodoc.

The next day, wearing the body that I had designed during that week of freedom, I walked out of the hidey hole house and into a waiting aircar and freedom.

My new friends were waiting. My new family was waiting.

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Comments

Autocrats vs. Autodocs

laika's picture

It's one thing to get lured into a cult and drink their figurative and sometimes literal Kool-Aid; but the kids born into those kinds of toxic, authoritarian worlds are who I really feel for. Some are quite happy living in insular communities, they know what's outside and they choose to remain in their Amish, Chassidic or whatever community. These pocket cultures might seem strange to outsiders but "cult" is in the eye of the beholder. But when you start forbidding your flock to even know about the outside world except to say those people out there are all going to Hell; that's fucked up. I could see why the internet would be such a threat to the Wise Elders. Glad our girl found help and escaped from the Blessed Temple, emerging from her autodoc chrysalis into a new life where she'll have the greatest blessings I can think of: autonomy and freedom.
~hugs, Veronica

That subject line...

That subject line...

It cracks me up. All I keep thinking about is "do autocrats use autopens to sign autodocs"

And you are damn right! It's fine if you choose to believe and remain close to other believers, but it's when you don't allow that choice that there's a problem. Freedom of choice, freedom to make your own mistakes, freedom to be yourself- nothing should be more sacred.

I'm told STFU more times in a day than most people get told in a lifetime

as a former cult member

Absolutely fuck that. They brainwash the fuck out of you (real cults not the amish, that's a different can of worms) Cults don't give you a choice, they break you down and mold you so that the only thing you can depend on is the cult. I was raised into a cult since I was a baby, I heard sermons and shit before I could even speak. I still to this day carry the shame and terror that they instilled in me. I wish the US (where I'm from) and well all the world would break cults up regardless of their fucking affiliation. Children do not need to go through the amount of self hate cults raise you in. How you feel dirty, evil, broken, incomplete unless you have the cult.

I agree with you about not judging communities that are that way by consent. However children cannot consent, so if you see people indoctrinating anyone it needs to be halted. I don't want any child to fear hell the way I do. Or to be as sheltered as I was. Even when we weren't physically stopped from doing so, we often were shamed into staying within the cult culture. Like indoctrination is an evil I cant even describe, I just know my future children will never be put through it. Even if I do end up a Christian again.

I know who I am, I am me, and I like me ^^
Transgender, Gamer, Little, Princess, Therian and proud :D

Cults

Thank you for reading, and for your thoughtful reply. I hope that my story wasn't a trigger.

This isn't the first time I have written about cults. If you read my works, you'll find that I like to shine the harsh light of criticism on those who use religion, any religion, to control others. You'll see the Church of Genetic Purity in my MORFS stories, and even the rescue of a congregation in Higher and Higher. About a third of them clung to their old beliefs, while two thirds were liberated.

It is a characteristic of humanity that, whenever we group together, someone wants to be the boss. Some are wise leaders who want the best for their people, while others want nothing but the personal power.

One of the points of the post scarcity era is that a lot of the force multipliers of would-be despots will be gone. Still, some will still seek to control others in the real world. Hence the story.

I, too, have some experience with the legalists who try to turn God's kingdom into their own authoritarian tribe. The fact is that Jesus was gentle with most people, even Judas, but he was the harshest with those who misused religion -- from calling the Scribes and Pharisees "whitewashed tombs, white and clean on the outside, but full of dead bones and corruption on the inside" to even making a cat of nine tails and whooping on the money changers at the temple.

It is pretty common for the various denominations to preach a set of rules, and each choose the rules that they like to emphasize, and tend to cop the attitude that they are the special ones that know The Truth, and that the rest are apostate.

In my case, I found myself in a church when I was in training at Fort Gordon. They taught that girls should never cut their hair (except for military women) -- even if they get split ends. "A woman's hair is her glory," Paul says somewhere. That was really culturally and locally sensitive, since the local prostitutes shaved their heads. But even taken at face value, how is hair with split ends glorious? And some of the women couldn't even wear their hair down because it was so heavy. They had to pile it on top of their heads.

And I was told that I shouldn't wear shorts because some girl might lust after me, and I would be responsible for her downfall.

Really? And they confirmed that mixed gender swimming was sinful.

No going to the beach? No wearing shorts? In Georgia?

I was really glad to get out of there.

But I can just imagine how such a church would warp the mind of a child.

And they're not the worst. Westburo has them beat by a good margin. And there are variations on the Pentecostal theme that can be quite legalistic. Some even have a kind of second salvation -- when you first speak in tongues. If you have never spoken in tongues, you are kind of a second tier Christian in their eyes. I wonder how many people fake it, then feel deathly guilty about it afterwards.

Where does the line lie? There is the freedom or religion and the freedom to teach one's child faith, but the teaching of an unloving and punitive god that can never be pleased is clearly emotional abuse.

In the case of the Sweet Sixteen story world, there is essentially a constitutional amendment that states that everyone has the right to access the bigger world -- meaning the Internet, in practical terms. The cultists have clearly broken that law.

I have rough outline of a rescue mission.

The laws of that universe are much pared down -- of necessity, since the various governments don't have much in the way of resources.

But deputized volunteers can seek warrants from the judges and enforce the law. Fortunately, without the strong incentive of wanting and needing money, crime is way down.

So I'm working on how exactly this is going to go down, and what part our young protagonist will play in it.

By the way...

I don't mean to imply that the cult I attended at Fort Gordon was anywhere near as bad as the one you were forced into as a child. Especially since I have no idea what it was.

Staycations Are Great

terrynaut's picture

I find staycations to be very relaxing. If only I could stumble across a Santa Seed!

This was a hard-hitting but good story. I think you're overly optimistic about Santa Claus machines happening any time soon but it's good to dream.

Thanks and kudos (number 121).

- Terry

Santa seeds

They'll probably be developed two or three decades after the larger and more cumbersome Santa Claus machines; which will, in turn, come a couple decades after we start to develop the machines that can build a variety of items from raw materials.

Awesome!

Aine Sabine's picture

That was a nice short story. It can end there or be continued. I like that. No bit of me going, I want more! Okay there is just not too loudly.

Wil

Aine

Escape

Daphne Xu's picture

Good, you finally escaped.

-- Daphne Xu

"icon that I [ many/most ] had never seen before" & Santa Seed

I'm sending you a Santa Seed. It won't grow into your full Santa Clause machine, but ...

it >will< (if nearly everybody 'waters' it) provide enough food to feed the entire world. Yes. All 7+ billion (soon to maybe 11 billion) people in the world.

The painful part is breaking out y/our 10,000 year old cult. (I did, millions of others already have.)

Here is your 'de-program me' icon (and remember your lending libraries):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Why_We_Love_Dogs,_Eat_Pigs,_an....

I've had the incredible good fortune to dine with Dr Joy.

Here is the how-to button - and it's free. Nothing to buy, no pills, powders, or 'stuff' or 'gadgets': https://kickstart.pcrm.org/en. Oh, if you want to buy a book, or attend a seminar/program, that will cost. But you don't have to.

Millions of us will enthusiastically help all those who (want to) escape.
---
And I did mean it - enough 'escapees', and there will be enough food to feed every single current and future human.