The Singularity began as a new age freak show. There was a physicist who could not walk, had been confined to a chair his whole life and then received the shots and stood. He claimed he was no longer crippled, could no longer become sick; would, in fact, live for centuries. There were nanocomputers in his blood now and they would fix everything. This story was relegated to the shifting front pages of search engines and the smug reporting saved for the last five minutes of newscasts. Soon however, other scientists were receiving the serum and soon some of the very rich were buying the serum. Then the major cities—New York, Chicago, Los Angeles—had hospitals that, for a large sum of money, could administer the serum to anyone who wanted it. Soon, the serum wasn’t as expensive as it had once been, a new company had created one that was cheaper.

There were law suits about the copyright—very public, very nasty; apparently some type of industrial espionage was suspected, and when the lawsuits were concluded the serum was much more affordable. Just a few years after the serum was announced to the world, the government of the United States declared that it was mandatory for every man, woman and child to be injected with it. This is when Solomon stepped out of the shadows of Southern obscurity.

Pastor John Blackstone, son of a pastor who was the son of a pastor before him, would not inject himself with the Singularity. He was young at the time, only twenty-five years old. He was good- looking and well-spoken and cut a dashing image on the television screens and Internet windows across the world. Pastor John’s story became viral as the entirety of his parish vowed that they also would not have the injections and soon nearly the whole town of Solomon was placing their right hands on the Bible and swearing that they would never manipulate their bodies with the devil’s machinery.