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cyborg = part person, part machine

How do the Magi relate to cyborg!Jesus?

a) continue to support Jesus, as in the Bible -- the ones who turn the little boy into a cyborg [JH]

b) take an opposite role -- mental image of steampunk-type scientists trying to dismember this thing [NZ]

Gold -- sign of kinglyness?
Frankincense -- or maybe this is...
Myrrh -- remember that this has to do with burial

useful quote

Perhaps we can find a way to cleverly insert this...

Boolie Werthan: Mama, cars don't behave. They are behaved upon.

(Driving Miss Daisy)

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writing on the wall

The writing that a disembodied hand wrote on King Nebuchadnezzar's wall will here be computer text scrolling across some sort of screen.

walls crumble

Sadly, I cannot remember the right Biblical passage to play with, but it'll come to me later (after I ravage BibleGateway). For now, rough notes:

Back in the pre-"BIble" verse (i.e., Max Craves and the accident), the robot-controlled cars do not have horns. No need -- no one to rage at, no one to cut you off, because all the cars work in tandem. (Same with no speed limit; why, when the vehicles all go at the same pace?)

Cut to our reenactment of the Bible story where so-and-so (under God's direction, interestingly) and his troops surround the city of Juda and blow their horns til the walls crumble -- I'm seeing a stack of crumpled, destroyed cars, think of a tower of scrap metal (no need for cars, even, at this point in time, since the entity has taken over) that have somehow been rigged to release a cacophony of horns.

More on this later.
I told you-- I told you, the day would come. You, whose eyes held mirth, or worse, darkened with pity when I showed you my arms, the spot where I knew the chip was, the one the government put in to spy on us, on me.

I've dug and dug through thin, translucent flesh, stripped away the earthly trappings of skin, and it doesn't matter that there's no chip, because what will enter us now is so much better. Communion much?!

Don't worry about the blood, it doesn't matter now. We must clear out our blood, to make way for this new lifesource. We'll all have circuits under our skin, no more veins. We'll be connected to each other, and to It, like the cars were when we gave up our need for licenses and midnight curfews. It's freedom, it's a gift, don't you see?

---

Re: the entity bringing forth "Jesus" as a cyborg and not going through "Mary":

Lord (they likely won't address the entity as such, but right now I have no other title on hand), let me be your holy vessel-- send your word through my flesh.

Yes... my body is more alive than it has ever been. I'm humming with potential; every hair stands on end. I feel so warm.

Stigmata and/or the rape of Dinah.

that night

This is all I could salvage from my old Word doc of God knows how many years ago. It's rough (the parts I haven't yet written out are bolded), but it's something.


    He grimaced as the glare from a streetlight flashed over his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Sighing, he shook his head to clear the white spots from his vision while turning his body to the side. Why bother with them? he wondered. That’s the whole point; these things can drive themselves. “Close window,” he said, and the glass obediently slid upwards. Relate this to a dog doing tricks. He didn’t even have to raise his voice; he’d put in vocal commands when the company had granted him this new model, a few months ago. He's sitting in the backseat (no driver, obviously). Mention control panel, how he remembers it from his youth.
   There, that was better. Of course, it wasn’t such a nuisance when he considered the good day he’d had. Closed some deal, and now he could enjoy a leisurely ride home.
   Filler.
   Other cars’ headlights passed over him briefly, only to fade away into the darkness. Max took no notice of them as he tried to curl up comfortably against the leather seat (one would think, with the newer model, that the seats would at least be plusher). He closed his eyes, then opened them again a moment later and eyed the belt lying limply against the seat. For some reason it was still mandatory to wear them, but – oh, what the hell, he decided. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again and let the humming of the car’s engine lull him to sleep.
    He was rudely jerked awake by his head smashing against the headrest; before he could open his eyes, an ear-splitting noise assaulted his ears. He didn’t recognize it until a vague memory floated to the surface of his mind: To make sixteen-year-old Max and his sister cease shouting at each other during a trip, his mother screamed, “Stop!” But the car, registering the harsh command, brought itself to a sudden halt in the middle of the street. Later, his parents installed “halt” as the command for the car to stop.
    Time seemed to slow, although Max would later realize that barely two seconds had passed. The bizarre, grating screech ringing in his ears just as it had that day, he frantically grabbed for his seat belt. He had barely grasped it before the car whipped around and slammed into a wall. Max was tossed against the left side of the vehicle; his head cracked on the closed window, and he gratefully accepted the blissful darkness of unconsciousness.
    He came to a little more easily this time, slowly blinking his eyes until they focused. He didn’t appear to be racing along anymore, but he was still very cautious in moving, first stretching his neck to the side; that produced a fiery ache that made him gasp sharply. Slowly, he tried to sit up straighter, but immediately more pain shot through his entire body. For some reason I emphasized the bruising in his back. Yet, he could move all of his joints, albeit with pain; nothing was broken.
    He was surprised at his good fortune, considering what he saw next. The right half of his car – where he’d rested what seemed only a few minutes ago – was torn away, like in one of those ancient Godzilla movies. Describe the wreckage of the other car, esp. the unconscious/bleeding victim inside.
    Max panics (make a point of saying that he's unaccustomed to this adrenaline); his fingers fumbled over the keypad until he found the button with the symbol of a telephone on it. He opened his mouth but closed it a minute later when he realized he didn’t even know how to call. There weren’t any damn numbers to dial, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember the word he’d programmed.
    “H-help,” he tried, but nothing happened. Accident sounded strange and didn’t produce any results either. He swore under his breath as his mind scrambled for the right word. If only he had some idea of how to handle things better. But that was the thing; he’d never expected to be in an, in an... an--
    “Emergency,” he croaked, and waited as the silence stretched. Finally, a dial tone sounded, and he released his breath.
    “911 Emergency,” a crisp female voice replied from the other end, startling Max. “What is the problem?”
    He leaned over the speaker and stammered, “Uh...a car accident.”
    “I’m sorry, sir?” the operator said, sounding perplexed; he didn’t blame her.
    “A car crash, on Linden Street,” Max repeated. His nerves were starting to come together, but he kept glancing through the mangled window at the crumpled car.
    “Sir, did I hear you right?” the operator asked again. When he didn’t reply, her tone sharpened. “There hasn’t been a car crash since date. It’s stupid, not to mention cruel, that you would try a prank like this. Now, I’m going to hang up –“
    “No, don’t do that!” He leapt for the speaker. “I know that this hasn’t happened in forever, but...

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angels

After reading Angels in America, I want them. Not necessarily the orgasms (although that was such an awesome tie-in), since it's more Kushner's idea, but something. I guess they'd be the technicians who affiliate themselves with the entity? (assuming there are any)