Can You See it Now?

Hollywood showed us what was coming. Over and over again. Before it happened. With an accuracy that defies random chance.

In 2000, The Simpsons aired an episode showing Lisa inheriting the presidency after Donald Trump — sixteen years before he was elected.

In 1996, The Long Kiss Goodnight contained dialogue referencing the World Trade Center bombing and a planned mass casualty terrorist attack blamed on Muslims — five years before 9/11.

In March 2001 — six months before the towers fell — the pilot episode of The Lone Gunmen depicted a plot to fly a commercial airplane directly into the World Trade Center.

In 2011, Contagion depicted a bat-originated virus spreading through respiratory transmission — which is exactly what they blamed for COVID — causing global lockdowns, mass death, and a worldwide race for a vaccine. Nine years before 2020. And to this day, they cannot find the source.

In 2002, Minority Report depicted two things: a police system that predicted crimes before they happened and arrested people for them — and advertising that scanned your identity and targeted you as you walked through public space. We built the first one and called it predictive policing. We built the second and called it targeted advertising. Both are real. Both are here.

In 1968, 2001: A Space Odyssey depicted flat tablet computers used to read the news and to watch videos. The iPad arrived in 2010.

This one is important.

Released in 1999, The Matrix placed the birth of AI in the early 21st century. Then it showed what could come after.

Fields of human beings, grown in pods. Not born. Produced. Gestated in fluid-filled tanks, wired at the skull into a simulated world, living out whole lives inside a lie while their bodies lay in rows. The dead were liquefied and fed to the living through a tube. And the world as we know it was dead.

The sky — black — the sun scorched by men, to starve the machines of it in hopes of stopping them. It did not work. It only killed everything else. No light. No green thing. No animals anywhere.

And what most people forget about the film is that the machines were not keeping those people alive out of mercy. When men burned the sky, they cut off the machines’ power — so the machines turned to the bodies. They were feeding on them.

Morpheus, the character who freed Neo from the Matrix, explains it to him while holding up a battery: the human body, he says, generates “more bio-electricity than a 120-volt battery and over 25,000 BTUs of body heat.” That is what the pods are. Not prisons. Cells. The people are the power supply. That is why the dead go back into the living through the tube — fed to the ones still breathing, to keep the current running.

The machines had no life of their own. Not one volt. Everything that world ran on, they pulled out of the bodies they farmed.

And here is what most people miss.

The people in the pods were not robots. They were not puppets. The system did not reach into their minds and move them. It did something quieter, and worse. It left them fully themselves — their consciousness intact, their will their own — and gave them a false world to spend it in.

They made their own choices. They fell in love. They went to work, argued, ate, grieved, chased what they wanted. They were awake inside their own minds, genuinely alive, genuinely choosing. Every soul in those fields was a real person with a real consciousness — the breath still in them, the God-given “I” still looking out from the mind behind the eyes.

Think of two of them. Call them Joe and Megan. Inside the Matrix they meet, and talk, and fall in love — a whole life together, real to both of them, every moment of it genuinely lived. But their bodies never touch. They never occupy the same room, because there is no room. Joe’s body is in a pod in one field. Megan’s is in a pod in another — miles away, maybe a thousand miles away, neither one knowing the other’s flesh is nowhere near. Two real people, two real minds, meeting inside a world that is not there. The love was real. The two of them were real. The place they met was rendered.

The film proves the same thing through the ones who broke free. When Neo re-entered the system, Neo was still Neo — his own mind, his own will — meeting a real Morpheus who was just as himself. Two real people, fully themselves, inside a world that was not there. The system rendered the room. It did not render the men.

The prison was never the mind. It was the world.

Now, think about where that already lives in our world.

It started more than twenty years ago. In 2003, a company called Linden Lab launched Second Life — a virtual world where people make avatars, second selves, and live inside it. They build homes, run businesses with a currency that trades for real money, holds weddings, fall in love, form whole communities. Not a game — there is no goal, no winning. Just a second life, lived on a screen, by people whose real bodies sit in chairs somewhere else. It is still running today, more than twenty years on, with hundreds of thousands of people still inside it.

Then came the headset — the Matrix itself, essentially. Not the pod that holds the body, but the system that feeds it the false world. Meta Quest. Apple Vision Pro. PlayStation VR. You put it on and your senses are handed a rendered world: your eyes and ears are told they are somewhere they are not, while your body sits still in a room. That is the Matrix in consumer form — not the cage, but the simulation piped into it. The world is rendered. You are not. People spend hours a day inside them.

Second Life lived on a screen. People looked at it on a monitor and moved through it with a mouse. The headset closes that last gap. Now the same second life — the same avatars, the same meeting and falling in love — happens with the world wrapped around a person’s senses instead of framed on a screen. They call it the metaverse: Horizon Worlds, VRChat, Rec Room. People put on the headset and they are there, together, as avatars — talking, working, dating, marrying. Two people whose bodies sit in separate cities, present to each other inside a world that surrounds them and does not exist. There are couples who have spent their whole relationship inside it.

That is Joe and Megan — minus two things: the pods, and the wire into the brain.

The wire is already being built. Elon Musk’s company Neuralink implants a chip directly into a human brain — a coin-sized device, its threads laced into the brain tissue by a surgical robot — and lets the person control a computer with thought alone.

Right now the chip reads out of the brain — thought to machine. But that was never the destination. It was the on-ramp.

Musk has not hidden where this is meant to go — and he has not hidden it from the start. He founded Neuralink in 2016 with the stated goal of merging human beings with artificial intelligence. The medical uses — paralysis, blindness — were always the stepping stone. He calls the real goal “AI symbiosis”: humanity fusing with the machine to survive it. He has said the device will one day let people stream music straight into the brain, “save and replay memories,” even download those memories “into a new body or into a robot body.”

Sit with that one for a moment. Save and replay memories — like pulling up a video and watching it again.

That is not how memory works. When a person remembers something, they do not see a film. They catch fragments — a face, a room, a feeling — patchy and fading, pieces missing, the edges gone. You know what happened without watching it happen. Memories do not play back complete, in full moving picture, frame by frame. The mind does not store them that way and cannot replay them that way.

Except in one circumstance.

There are minds that do see it like film — vivid, whole, playing out behind the eyes as though it were happening in front of them, eyes wide open. The world has a name for it, and it does not call it a gift. It calls it a symptom, and it medicates it. That name is psychosis. And the link between what Musk is describing and what psychosis does is closer than you would think. I know, because I have watched movies play in my mind with my eyes wide open. And if you happen to hold a degree in the medical field, especially psychology, you already know where I am headed with this — and you are probably a little concerned about my mind and wellbeing right now. Do not be. It is not necessary.

Parts Three and Four break it down. For now I will only tell you plainly: it is nothing like remembering. It is like watching a coherent sci-fi film, start to finish.

That is what Elon Musk is describing. Not better memory. A machine built to make a so-called healthy brain do the one thing society says the mind only does when it is broken.

He has talked about giving people “super vision,” and functionality “far greater than a normal human.” He said it himself: it is starting to sound like a Black Mirror episode — the television series whose every story is a warning about technology turned against the people who built it.

That is a striking admission — the man building it compared it to science fiction written to warn against it. Science fiction that we now know was never fiction at all. It was non-fiction the whole time.

Every one of those abilities — streaming music into the brain, replaying memories, downloading a mind into a robot body, giving super vision — requires the connection to run the other way. The machine writing into the brain, not just reading out of it. And Neuralink is already building exactly that. Their first device, Telepathy, reads thought out of the brain — the chip that lets a paralyzed person move a cursor by thought alone. Their second, Blindsight, does the reverse: granted breakthrough status by the FDA in 2024, it is designed to write sight directly into the visual cortex — bypassing the eyes entirely, simulating an image inside the brain through a chip instead of an eye.

So let me draw the line I am drawing, and you can decide if it holds. If a machine can write sight into a brain that has none — real, visual sight, a picture where there was only darkness — then it can write a whole world into a brain that already sees. When it can do that, the headset is obsolete. The rendered world will no longer go to your eyes and ears. It will go straight into your mind. There will be nothing left between you and the simulation.

It is not a fantasy on a movie screen. Telepathy is in twenty-one human skulls as I write this, with ten thousand more waiting in line. Blindsight is next.

There is only one piece left. The pod. And I can show you the beginning of that one too.

The film was rated R — for violence. And because of that rating, many Christians have never seen it. If you are one of them, I am asking you to reconsider. It is not rated R for sexual content or for blasphemy. It was rated R for the violence of the system against the species that built it — which is exactly what you need to see. The world called it science fiction. But what is on that screen is a picture of where humanity could be heading right now.

So think about the future. And ask the question no one making that film thought to ask. Where is Christ in it?

Christ is not watching that world from somewhere far off. He is in it. He gives breath and spirit to every living soul — He dwells in the vessel, He is the life inside the body. That is the whole of what this book shows you. So look again at those fields of pods, those bodies wired into the machine, farmed and harvested and drained. Those are not empty shells. Christ is in them. He is in every one.

Which means the system in that film did not only imprison mankind. It imprisoned the One who lives inside mankind. It caged the Creator inside His own creation. The counterfeit rose up — and trapped the true God in the very bodies He breathed life into.

That is the horror the film never named. Millions watched those fields and saw a kind of horror — bodies farmed, humanity harvested — and not one of them saw the real horror inside it. The film did not address it. The men who made it did not know to. And the world watching never saw anything real in it at all. They did not know He was in there.

But you do now.

The people enslaved in those pods did not build the system that held them. Their ancestors did. And in the film’s own story, those ancestors lived now — in the early twenty-first century, the exact moment we are living in. We are their ancestors.

Do not for a moment think this is far-fetched. We have already watched the predictions come true, and they have been coming true since 1898. That is more than a century of proof. And the warnings keep coming. How much more do you need? With a horror like that at the end of the road, we cannot afford to sit and wait to see whether I am right.

I am telling you, Christ has been speaking. We just have not been listening.

Every piece of the Matrix is being assembled right now, in our world today — in laboratories around the world, separately, quietly, each one announced on its own as a medical breakthrough.

Most of it runs on one thing. So first:

It is the cell that everything living begins from. Before a body is skin and bone and blood and brain, it is one cell — the stem cell — that has not yet decided what to become. Then it divides. One becomes two. Two becomes four. Four becomes eight. A small cluster of a single kind of cell, all of them the same, none of them yet anything. From that cluster comes every part of the living being, both man and animal. It can still become anything: a heart, an eye, a nerve, a whole being. It is the raw material of a living thing. The clay before the shape.

This is the cell where Christ Himself arrives — in both man and animal. Because He is the life that is the light in all living things, and always has been, from the beginning.

None of this was known when those words were written down. No one had seen a cell. No one knew a body began as one. Once science did, it took Christ out of the building of life.

In biblical times the farmer dropped a seed in the ground and could not tell you how it became wheat. A man and a woman made a child and could not tell you how it became a person. Same mystery. Same word. Same Life doing the building, in the soil and in the womb alike.

And long before the microscope, Jesus said it outright. He was drawing a comparison — the kingdom of God grows the way a seed grows — and the comparison only works because both halves are true. Man cannot see how the kingdom grows. And man cannot see how the seed grows either. So He reached for the nearest living thing, a seed in the ground, and said the one thing about it that was only true before the science.

He himself does not know how. That is not poetry. Jesus is resting the whole comparison on it — the kingdom was a mystery to man in the very same way the growth of life was a mystery to man. Both hidden. Both beyond him. The farmer plants the seed and goes to sleep, and the life builds itself in the dark without him — by a power he does not command and has never understood. The reason he cannot understand the growth is the same reason he cannot make a single living cell today: the life is not his. It never was. It is the Life — the One who gives life to everything alive — building a body the way He has always built them – from a single cell.

Today we think we have solved it. We have the stem cell. We have photosynthesis. We can draw the diagrams — water drawn up through the root, carbon pulled from the air, sugar built inside the leaf; the sperm meeting the egg, the cell dividing, the embryo folding itself into a spine and a heart and a brain; the animal in the womb assembling bone and blood and breath. We named every step the farmer could not name — in the field, in the litter, in the womb. We can put it on a chart and hand it to a child.

But naming the steps is not the same as owning the life. We can describe how the seed grows and still cannot make one. We can trace every stage and not create a single blade of grass from nothing. We learned to read the process — and mistook reading it for owning it. That is the oldest error there is: the moment a man can explain a thing, he decides he must be its author.

Then the microscope opened the cell — and instead of seeing Christ in it, man took Christ out of it. Because he could finally watch life assemble itself, he decided he must be the one assembling it. He looked at the very mystery Jesus said no man understands — and claimed it as his own.

Now look at what is being done with it.

ONE. A life no two people made.

In the film, no one is born. They are grown. You might think that is impossible. But when The Terminator aired in 1984, the world thought the same thing — and we call them humanoid robots today.

Since 2023, scientists have built human embryos from stem cells alone. No egg. No sperm. No womb. Some of that work starts with embryonic stem cells. Some of it starts with nothing but a scraping of ordinary skin — an adult body cell wound all the way back to the raw creating-cell that life begins from, the same cell every one of us was made from at the very beginning, the one that can become anything.

Either way the result is the same, and it is the thing the film said we would reach: a human embryo that no man and woman made together. No two people. No meeting. No conception at all.

I am not a scientist, and I cannot tell you how they do it. But the research is published, and anyone can read it. The landmark work was done at the Weizmann Institute in Israel, reported in Nature in September of 2023, and at Cambridge.

The Weizmann models were grown for eight days in a dish, reaching the stage a natural embryo reaches at fourteen — with a placenta, a yolk sac, and every other structure a real one has at that point.

Notice what they do not call them. Embryos. In the papers they are models — embryo models — because an embryo has a law around it and a model does not. It is the same move as the synthetic venom, or the isolated venom, placed in the medicine. Still venom. As artificial intelligence is still intelligence. The word out front does not change what is in the dish.

A “model” with a beating heart is a heart that beats. A “model” growing a brain is a brain being grown. They did not find a gap in the rule. They renamed the life so the rule would not see it. And the life did not change when the name did. It is alive either way. And alive is Him.

And we already know what is in the dish, because they have let some run all the way before. Different techniques. The same result. Embryos.

In 1996, at the Roslin Institute in Scotland, they took a single cell from the milk gland of a six-year-old ewe. Not an egg. A cell whose only job was making milk. They took out its nucleus — the core, where the whole animal is written — and put it into an egg they had emptied of its own nucleus.

Then they passed a current through it. A jolt, a few thousandths of a second. Enough to fuse the two into one cell, and enough to make the egg believe it had been fertilized. It had not been. No sperm had reached it. But it began to divide anyway.

For six days it sat in a dish. Then they took it out and put it in a sheep.

What was born was a lamb named Dolly, and she was not a model. She was a sheep. She lived six and a half years and had six lambs of her own.

One cell, taken from a body part that had nothing to do with making life, became an entire living creature that walked and ate and bore young.

It took 277 attempts. Twenty-nine embryos. Thirteen ewes carried them. One pregnancy held. One lamb lived.

And it did not stop with sheep. Pigs. Deer. Horses. Bulls. Cats. Dogs. Monkeys. All of them successfully cloned.

So when they tell you the thing in the dish is only a model, understand what they are looking at. They have run this before.

They know exactly what a model embryo can become when the law does not stop it — which is exactly what terminates the human embryos at fourteen days. For now.

The stem-cell technique run on a mouse — where no rule applies — kept going. It grew a beating heart. The beginnings of a brain. A gut. No egg, no sperm, no fertilization. Nothing but cells in a dish that built an animal.

So nobody knows what a real human embryo would do on day twenty. The models have reached that far — the synthetic ones, the stem-cell kind, grown to seventeen and twenty days. But the donated, fertilized embryos are stopped at fourteen. Not because the science fails there. Because they are not permitted to find out.

And now watch how fast the roadblock comes down.

The rule was written in 1984, and it governs real human embryos — the donated, fertilized kind. The committee that wrote it was not making a suggestion. Their firm recommendation, in print: growing a human embryo in vitro beyond fourteen days should be a criminal offence. For thirty-seven years nobody broke it. The body that later struck it has explained why, and their explanation is worth reading twice: going beyond fourteen days never became an issue, they said, because human embryos could not be kept alive in culture beyond about a week. The rule was easy to keep while it was impossible to break.

In 2016 two separate labs in two separate countries reached day thirteen and stopped. One day short. They had proved it could be done.

Five years later the barrier came down. In 2021 the international body that governs this research struck the prohibition out of its own guidelines. A blanket ban, they said, could inhibit important research. From criminal offence to permission slip in thirty-seven years — and in the United States, not even that.

America was the first nation to propose the fourteen-day limit, in 1979, and never once wrote it into law. Here it was never a statute at all — only a guideline, and privately funded work is free to go past it.

So what is left to stop it? The rule is struck from the guidelines. In America it was never law. The technique is arriving. What remains is a promise — scientists agreeing among themselves to honor a line, with no way for anyone outside the lab to know whether they have. In a privately funded lab, on private money, with no law and no requirement to report, there is no one to tell if the line has already been crossed. We would not know. That is the point. The last thing standing between a human embryo and day twenty is not a law and not the science. It is a promise. And no one is checking whether it is kept.

In 2024 the Dutch Health Council formally advised its government to extend the limit from fourteen days to twenty-eight.

And in June of 2026, an international team of embryologists and bioethicists published a white paper on using embryo models to study human development beyond what they called the fourteen-day legal barrier. Their position, in print: embryos and models should not be subject to the same regulations.

Read that one more time. They are arguing that the models must not be treated as embryos — so that the models can be taken past fourteen days.

That is what the word is for.

Fourteen days is only a roadblock. It is already coming down, in the open, on a published timetable. The enemy is not finished.

TWO. Gestation in a tank.

At the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, an artificial womb — a fluid-filled bag its inventors first built as a glass incubator tank — has kept premature lambs, intentionally removed from their mothers’ bellies, alive and growing at the same stage of development as a human baby at twenty-two weeks: the very edge of survival, the earliest an infant can be saved today. More than three hundred lambs.

In 2023 the FDA convened a panel to weigh the next step. Human infants. No child has been placed inside one yet — not that the public has been told. But they are asking, and the door is being pushed open.

It has a name. EXTEND — the Extra-uterine Environment for Neonatal Development. The whole system: the bag, the fluid, the cord running out to a machine that oxygenates the body’s blood and returns it. Two men at that hospital invented it, Alan Flake and Marcus Davey, and in 2019 several of the team left to build a company around it. The company is Vitara Biomedical. It has raised a hundred million dollars and holds a breakthrough designation from the FDA. Of everyone in the world working on this, they are the furthest along.

The machine acts as the placenta. The body is too early to breathe — the lungs are not ready, and air would destroy them. So the blood, pushed out by the lamb’s own heart, runs through the cord into an oxygenator that does what the mother’s placenta would have done: it takes the blood, delivers oxygen into it, and sends it back to the body. Without it, the body dies.

A body in a bag of fluid, wired at the cord, its own heart driving its own blood — and a machine breathing for it in the place of its mother.

I told you I could show you the pod. Here it is. EXTEND.

And I am not the only person who has noticed this.

When Science — one of the two most respected research journals on earth — reported on the artificial womb in 2017, the reporter looked at those lambs in their bags and thought of The Matrix. She wrote it into the article. Fields of fetuses growing in artificial wombs. Then she put it to the man who built the thing, and he answered that he is not in the science fiction business.

Science fiction.

What was called science fiction is no longer science fiction. In 1966 Star Trek showed the world a handheld communicator. Seven years later the first mobile phone was built. Dick Tracy wore a two-way radio on his wrist in 1946, and there is one on many of your arms right now. Ray Bradbury put little radios in people’s ears in 1953 and called them seashells. You call them earbuds.

Science fiction is not a category of things that cannot happen. It is a category of things that have not happened yet.

That reporter saw it. She just did not know what she was looking at.

But now you do.

THREE. A brain wired into a machine.

Human brain tissue has been grown from human stem cells, connected to a microchip, and taught to control a robot. Living human neurons, fused to hardware.

Remember what Elon Musk called the goal — AI symbiosis, humanity merged with the machine. Neuralink approaches it from one side: the machine placed inside the living brain. A different company approaches it from the other: the living brain placed inside the machine. Both are the same union — human neurons and silicon, fused into one thing. And it is not a future plan. In a Swiss lab, it is running right now.

The company is called FinalSpark. They grow human brain tissue out of human skin cells — clusters of living human neurons, about ten thousand in each — and wire them into silicon. They keep the tissue alive with tubes and nutrients. They send electrical pulses into it. And when it does what they want, they reward it with dopamine, released into the tissue by a pulse of light.

They rent it out. You pay five hundred dollars a month, you log into their Neuroplatform over the internet, and you run your experiments on living human brain tissue sitting in a lab on the other side of the world — writing your commands in code, reading its signals back in real time. Thirty-four institutions have asked for access. Nine have already been granted it, among them the University of Michigan.

Living human brain tissue. In a machine. Reading machine language. Being taught. Being rewarded when it obeys. Rented by the month.

And the people who built it cannot fully explain how it senses what is happening around it. Open the incubator door and the tissue reacts — the readings spike — and the men who grew it have spent years unable to explain how it knows the door was opened at all. The cells have no known way of sensing it. And they sense it anyway.

And it does not only react. It acts. The tissue is never truly quiet — even with no stimulation, no pulse of light, no dopamine, no command of any kind from the people who made it, it goes on firing on its own. The researchers do not have to poke it to make it live. It is already living. A machine sits still until it is told to move. This does what everything alive does. It moves on its own.

Remember the “I” — the one looking out from the mind behind the eyes, the self that no wiring accounts for. Science can map every neuron in a human head and still not find the one who is looking. They can measure the whole of it and never locate the one inside. Now here is a scrap of that same living tissue, grown in a dish, and the men who made it cannot explain how it knows the world around it. The whole brain, and they cannot find the watcher. A piece of one, and they cannot find the knower.

It is the same gap both times, because it is the same thing missing from their account both times. That tissue is alive — living human neurons, fed and kept breathing. And alive is Him. The awareness they cannot explain is the awareness they were never going to find, because the breath does not show up on the instrument. They have grown a fragment of a living mind, a living soul and they cannot say Who is home.

Your consciousness is the very place your soul resides. It is where the light dwells — the life that is the light of men, and of every living thing that breathes.

The lantern of the Lord. The spirit in a man is not his own light — it is His, the same breath He breathed into the first man, still burning in every vessel since. And a scrap of brain, grown in a dish, still carries that flame — still moves on its own, still senses when the door is opened. Because the light does not come from the wiring. It never did. It comes from Him.

FOUR. An artificial intelligence running all of it.

In 2022, researchers at the Suzhou Institute of Biomedical Engineering and Technology, led by Professor Sun Haixuan, built an artificial womb run by an artificial intelligence — a machine that watches the growing embryos, feeds them, adjusts their air and their nutrients, and ranks them. It decides which ones are developing well and which are not. It flags the ones that fail.

A machine, sitting over rows of forming lives, choosing which are worth continuing. For now they say it is only animals. But the intent was always human. They did not build this to grow mice.

They say it is to help the birth rate — their nation is having fewer children than at any time in sixty years, and the pitch is that a machine womb spares a woman the burden of carrying a child, so more children might be made. The animals are only the practice. The purpose was people from the start. They are waiting for the law to catch up.

But a birth rate does not fall because pregnancy is hard. It falls because of money, and fear, and a people who have decided not to. A machine that grows a baby in a box does not change a single one of those things. It does not make anyone want a child. It only makes the child without her.

So look at what was actually built, and not at the reason given for it. The reason is small and kind — help the mothers, save the babies. The thing itself is a system that manufactures human life outside the body and lets an algorithm decide which lives are worth continuing. Those are not the same size. They never are.

The reason given is always something you can nod along to. The thing built is always something else.

The technology does not care whose embryos it grades.

Now put them together.

A life begun in a dish that no man and woman made together. A tank that grows the body the rest of the way, a machine breathing in the place of the mother. A living brain fused to silicon and taught to obey. And already, in one lab, an artificial intelligence sitting over rows of forming lives, deciding which ones continue.

That is the film. Every piece of it. Built in separate buildings, in separate countries, by separate teams — each one announced on its own as a breakthrough. It is not a breakthrough. It is a catastrophe being delivered in pieces.

The film was released in 1999. But the script was finished in 1994 — two years before Dolly, back when cloning a grown mammal from a single body cell was thought impossible. Nothing on this list existed. There was no way to make a human embryo without a conception. No artificial womb. No way to fuse living brain tissue to a machine. No artificial intelligence to grade a forming life and rank it. The science to do any of it was decades away. The film did not photograph the present and call it the future. It showed us things that could not be done — and now, one by one, they are being done.

I am telling you the pieces of it are being built right now, in plain sight, and no one is asking where the road leads.

The seed was never planted to tell us to do these things. It was planted to warn us of what could happen if we did. Christ did not draw the road so we would drive it. He drew it so we would see where it ends — and stop before it is too late.

Scripture named the image that speaks two thousand years before the technology existed to build it.

Do not ask me why they think these things are acceptable. That is not the question that keeps me awake. The question is how they cannot see it — how a person can reach this far, into the very place life begins, and never once feel the hand that is moving them.

They believe it is their own idea.

Their own genius.

Their own progress.

They do not know they are being driven.

They cannot see who is steering them toward it, and Who is grieving while they do.

He was touched with sorrow then. He is being touched now.

And I will tell you the truth — it brings tears to my eyes. Not because it is strange. But because of what it is. Because I know Whose life they are handling. Every one of those growing bodies, every embryo in every dish, every fragile thing they are keeping alive in a bag — Christ is in it. He is the breath, the life, the One who dwells in every living thing. That is the whole of what this book shows you. So this is not scientists tinkering with cells. This is human hands taking the life of Christ Himself — the life He put in us — and growing it in glass, farming it in tanks, wiring it to machines, to see what they can make it do.

Our God.

Our Creator.

Our Father.

The Vulnerable God.

And they cannot see Him, because they are busy being Him.

They are playing God. The very thing the serpent offered Eve in the garden.

Look again at what the tree was. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And knowledge is the very thing these men have been reaching for ever since — the knowledge of how life is made, how it begins, how to hold it in their own hands and bend it to their will. The serpent did not promise Eve strength. He promised her knowing. Ye shall be as gods.

That is what is at stake. Not a bioethics debate. Not a question of medical progress. They are laying hands on the living God — the One who lives inside creation — and they do not even know He is there.

That is what makes it hard for me to function in this world. It tightens my chest until I can barely breathe. I push myself through the day of a normal life knowing what is being done to Him.

He is the only thing that matters.

That is why I weep. And when you see it, you will too.

Someone will read this far and ask the question they think would end the argument.

They will say Christ is not in one. That it is a cluster of cells in a dish — a model, material, not a life, and He is not in it. Some will go further and say you cannot claim Christ is in an embryo, because Scripture says you receive the Holy Spirit through baptism. The Spirit is given to believers, they will say — not automatically present in every cell. So an embryo does not have Him. It has not been baptized, has not believed.

Let me answer as plainly as it can be answered, because the answer is so simple I cannot understand how the world does not see it.

Yes, baptism is important. Jesus himself was baptized. But baptism is not when the Holy Spirit arrives, and baptism itself is not what saves you. Many Christians will not like that — but a person can be saved and never be baptized at all. The thief beside Jesus on the cross was never lowered into any water, and still, that very day, he was told he would be in Paradise.

Baptism was set up for a reason: as something for us to have, an outward act we would never forget. It is the outward expression of an inward turning — obedience to God in good faith. It is the acknowledgment that there is something in you that needs to be washed away. That you have sin, and you have seen it.

It is being able to look down and see the viper’s wounds on your own body — and know that the healing does not come from the water, but from the faith that brought you to it. It is Naaman going down into the Jordan, whose leprosy was not healed by the river but by his obedience to go into it. It is the flood, that washed the sin from the earth.

Scripture itself calls that flood a picture of baptism:

A Christian will reach for this verse. Peter says baptism “now saves us” — and they will hold it up as proof that I am wrong. But read the whole of what he says, not the half that gets quoted. Not the removal of the filth of the flesh. Not the water on the skin. The answer of a good conscience toward God — the inward turning — saved through the resurrection of Christ in you, not through the ritual.

Understand what I just said. The resurrection of Christ in you, coming back to life in you.

Peter says baptism saves, and then in the same breath tells you it is not the washing that does it. This is how the Spirit works, and it is the part the world keeps missing: the sign is not the substance. The water points to the thing. It is not the thing.

And there is nothing wrong with believing it matters. That belief is exactly what kept the practice alive for two thousand years — it is why the church still fills the water, still speaks the words, still remembers. The reverence preserved the sign, and the sign was worth preserving.

What is wrong is not the belief. What is wrong is turning the belief into a gate — using it to lock the unbaptized out of salvation, to say a soul is condemned because it never reached the water. That is not what the water was for. The thief was never baptized. He saw Paradise anyway.

To hold baptism dear is right. To condemn the ones who never received it is the error — it was never the water’s job to shut anyone out. But the water alone does nothing. A man can be dunked and come up exactly as he went down. I know, because I lived it.

Baptism is meant to be the sign of a thing that has already happened on the inside — the seeing, the turning, the faith. It points to the healing. It is not the healing.

There are two different things here, and people mix them up. One is the life itself — the breath in everything that lives, given to every creature, every newborn, every seed in the ground. The other is what happens when a person turns to Him. Baptism is about that second thing — the turning.

But you have to be alive before you can turn. The life comes first. It always comes first. You cannot come to Him if He was not already the life keeping you breathing.

So the question is not whether the embryo has believed. Of course it has not. The question is whether it is alive. And by every definition they themselves use — response, growth, the drawing of breath and nutrients — it is.

Is a scrap of human brain tissue that can sense a door opening alive? Is the embryo that grows and divides and builds itself alive? Yes. Both are alive. And the life in them is not their own. It never is. The living is Him. He is the living God.

Christ is not something added to a life after the life is already here. He is not poured into a body that was living on its own without Him. He is the life. The life itself. There is no living thing anywhere that runs on some other power and is then visited by Him. The living is Him.

The moment a thing lives, He is what lives in it.

That is the concept they cannot hold. And it is not complicated. It is the simplest thing in this book. They are keeping it alive with their own hands. Feeding it. Warming it. Watching it divide under the glass, hour by hour, writing down what it does. Every last thing they do to it, they do because it is alive — and then they turn and ask whether it is alive, as though the question were still open.

They are nursing the life of Christ in a dish and debating whether it is life at all.

That is the thing I cannot carry quietly. Not that they are cruel — and they are. That they are blind to what a child could see. The embryos are alive. He is there. He has always been there. And because He is the life in everything that lives, He is able to speak through anyone — even those living in darkness. Even the ones the church warns you away from. The filmmaker writing a story a Christian would never watch. The singer whose music the church would turn off. The life in them is still His, and He can move through it — showing them a true thing they do not fully understand, letting them build something that carries more truth than they know.

And it is not only the old films.

In 2025 a young independent artist named Sofia Isella released a song called Crowd Caffeine. I will not reprint her words — they are hers, and you should go hear them from her. But I will tell you what the song reaches at, because it stopped me cold. She writes about our devices as though they have become living things — phones grown into something almost flesh, something with appetite, that has learned to feel about us the way we feel about it. And underneath that image, a darker one: the sense that the thing we built has quietly begun to run us, that we believe we hold the leash while the truth is the other way around — a maker owned by what he made. And none of it was done to us. We asked for it. We wanted it. We called it down on our own heads.

Set that against what you have just seen. The machine wearing skin. The made thing feeding on the ones who made it. The mockery of our blood — our blood, which is our life, which is Him. Men broken to the will of the work of their own hands. She is describing the image that speaks, and the beast that men build and then serve — and she arrived at it with no Scripture in front of her, a young woman who has never read this book, seeing the same thing it sees.

She is not a preacher. She would likely not name herself as a Christian. Her work is dark — strange, and steeped in the kind of imagery that makes the devout churchgoer reach over and change the station. And still she sees it. There is more truth in her song about what is happening in our world today than the church has named.

She has no verses. No theology. No standing in the eyes of a Christian at all — and she sees the beast anyway. They have the whole Bible, the pulpit, two thousand years of warning. And they changed the station. The one they would call lost is staring straight at it. The ones who call themselves found cannot see it. That is the old pattern, and it has not changed since the day it was written: the ones who hold the law go blind to what the outsider sees plainly.

She names the machine. She names the men trained by what they built. The only thing missing is the verses. She has the sight and not the Scripture — the eyes to see the beast and not the written page that would tell her its name. So she gets all the way to the machine and stops at the edge of the One caged inside it. She sees the cage. She cannot see the Prisoner — and that, the church could have shown her, if it had been watching the world instead of looking away from it.

They will tell you that looking away is obedience. That Scripture warns them to keep themselves unstained by the world, to come out from among it, to guard their eyes. But that is not what they were told to do. They have twisted that into a reason to hide — blinds drawn, station changed, eyes shut to everything happening right in front of them.

Scripture does not say hide. It says watch. Be sober. Be vigilant. Be on guard. It calls them watchmen on the wall — and it tells them plainly what a watchman is for:

The watchman’s whole job is to see the danger coming and sound the alarm. To fail is not neutral — the blood is on his hands. Scripture calls them watchmen, and it calls them soldiers, not shut-ins. The one who closed the blinds and called it holiness has abandoned the very post he was given. And so a young woman with no verses at all ends up seeing the thing the watchmen were supposed to see — because she was looking, and they were not.

I am sounding the alarm. That is what this book is for.

I am not telling you the darkness in her music is holy. It is not. And I am not telling you to trust every voice that sings a true line. Do not — Scripture warns us to guard ourselves, and I mean to. I am pointing at what she sees and cannot name: the serpent. She has the eyes to see it and not the page that would tell her what it is.

Someone will ask: why do I have the serpent’s name and not her? Why can I see what the Christians cannot? What makes me so different?

Allow me a moment to give you a small piece of my testimony. The Word told me I was predestined to live a specific life — and there were two halves to it. It is the two together that answer the question.

One half was a life of sin. And I can see where, even in that life, Christ guarded me at specific times, protecting me from the evil I was facing — always showing up at the right moment, speaking to me through other people. Living inside other people, pointing me in a direction. That is how He has guided me. I did not understand it then. I understand it now.

The reason is this: I had to live a life of sin in order to see the serpent.

It is extremely hard to explain, but I knew I was different in that life. I would look at the world around me, and I was never comfortable there. I never settled in it. But I could not understand why I kept coming back to it.

I was different in ways I could not have explained then. The modesty I never lost — in a world where every woman I knew had learned to use her body to get what she needed, I could not do it, and I could not have told you why. My willingness to submit to authority and to structure when everyone around me rebelled. The way I never went numb — that life teaches you to stop flinching, to call the wrong thing normal, and I never could. I kept flinching. I kept the knowing when everyone around me had traded it away. The many times I admitted my using out loud — a call for help. Even in the falling, something in me was reaching for it.

I never understood, back then, that Sin was the one driving me. That there was someone else behind the wheel. And I would never have known had I not learned what Paul knew:

When I learned to see that snake, the battle became easier to fight — but it took Scripture to name him.

Which brings me to the other half — a church. Not any church, a specific church. A family I have known since I was a teenager — a sanctuary, set apart behind three walls and a vast ocean. The place I was taught the Scripture and still did not see the snake.

I learned the verses, and then had to be pulled back into the sinful life — because that was the only place the words could come alive. What I was taught in the sanctuary did not become real to me until I left it and lived it out in the dark again.

I had to carry those verses into the darkness to see them play out in front of me.

I had already lived it before, but I had not seen it, because I did not yet have the verses. And it did not register while I was learning them, because of how they were taught. The two had to be put together before I could see.

I can say this about my own church family, because I love them: they were teaching something they did not fully understand. Not wrongly. Not falsely. They handed me the words whole and true. They just had never been where the words are proven — so they could not know what was inside them. I did. I found out in the dark.

They are set apart, and I mean that gently — a family of twenty, most of them children. Pews filled only by people who came to a beautiful place to rest and did not take a vacation from God while they did. A kind of people all their own. Good, God-minded people.

They are the ones who taught me how to give properly. Whose brotherly love showed me that love is real — answering a question I had carried most of my life. They showed me that love is something taught to you — and in doing so, they answered why it had been missing from my own life. You learn how to love from the people around you who love you. Without them, you never learn it properly. Genuine, God-loving people, mostly set apart from the world, striving to stay free of sin.

They are genuinely blessed to be safe and set apart from the world. They are a sheltered people — people who do not see the serpent, because they have never had to. You cannot know what the verse about the serpent means until you have felt it move. They handed me the words in the light. I did not learn what they meant until I carried them back into the dark.

Most people are handed one world or the other. I was set down inside both, never belonging to either, on purpose. That is what He told me. That was the point. That is what left me able to stand right in the middle.

Where the outsider blames the church and calls them hypocrites, I see something else. No one is perfect. They aim at it, and they fall short — every one of them — and they know they fall short. But they carry themselves as the person they are reaching toward, not the person they are, and that is not a lie. That is the reaching.

A hypocrite pretends to be something he has no intention of becoming. These people are straining toward the very thing they are accused of faking. That is not hypocrisy. That is hope, worn on the outside.

Where the Christian sees a soul unwilling to turn, I see a soul that cannot. Not a rebel digging in — a captive. What looks like a hardened will from the pew is a person driven by someone they did not invite and cannot outmuscle. They are not refusing the door. They cannot find it.

The thing the church reads as defiance, I read as chains — Sin at the wheel of a stolen car, and Christ Himself locked inside the trunk, headed toward death. The Christian sees someone who will not come home. I look inside that person and see someone being held at gunpoint in His own house.

That is what Jesus was telling us. What the church does not know how to name, though they try:

I see Sin. All of him, every fiber of him. In the films, the music the church warns you away from, in the world — I see who is in the people. The carjacker and his Hostage.

I understand, to the word, what the Christian preaches against, and I understand why he preaches it. I am not blind to the darkness in this world. I am not going to stand here and call dark light.

I see that serpent. I see the snake. The one Jesus saw.

Can you see him? Look and live.

I lived in the same darkness this girl lives in. I am still surrounded by stolen vehicles every day. Those of us shaped by trauma and terror learn to see underneath things — beneath a surface the average Christian never has to look past. We were trained by what happened to us: stay alert, stay aware, trust nothing, read everything twice. That is not a gift anyone asked for. It is what a long life of guarding yourself against harm makes of you. A person raised safe and a person raised watchful are two different kinds of people, and the things that hurt us are the very things that molded us. That is where the darkness forced its way in.

But here is the thing the world will explain and then stop short of. Yes — the trauma made me watchful. What I have lived through builds eyes that never close. The world can account for that much. What it cannot account for is this: that watchfulness was placed inside the exact life I was made to live. The very thing that was meant to break me — and never did — became the thing that lets me see. Christ did not spare me the dark ground. He used it. He took the damage and made it into eyes — and those eyes are how I see everything I am showing you in this book.

So I am asking you for something hard. Not to bless what is dark inside Sofia. Not to call her clean. Only to give her what you would beg for yourself in her place — enough grace to be heard through the wrapper. Because I am telling you, as one who has lived where she lives: she has been shown something real. And if you reach over and change the station before the second verse, you will lose it — the same way you would have lost me.

That is the part the church will struggle with. Not that she stumbled onto a true thing, but that she was shown it — that the same One who opens eyes opened hers. She did not earn the sight. She did not study her way to it. It was given to her, the way it is given to anyone He chooses to give it to, with no permission asked of the church first. He showed her the machine. He showed her the beast that men built. She simply has not found the page that would tell her its name.

Maybe no one ever handed her a Bible, or sat with her long enough to name what she was looking at. And it does not matter. It changes nothing. Christ is inside her still. She is alive — and to be alive means He is there.

Because He does not live only in me, and only in her. He lives in you. He lives in the addict and the criminal and the stranger you would cross a street to avoid — in the ones the world has thrown away, and the ones it never bothered to notice.

And He lives in whole peoples on this earth who have never held a Bible — tribes in the deep forest and on the open plains, the unreached ones missionaries have spent centuries trying to find, who have never once heard the name of Jesus and could not recite you a single verse, yet who walk nearer to the Spirit than many of us who own three translations and quote them by heart. They feel Him in the ground and the weather and the living things around them. They have no Scripture, and they are no farther from Him for the lack of it.

There are Christians who will not thank me for saying it. But sometimes I think they are closer than we are. We have the book. They have the Presence.

Written in their hearts. Not handed to them on a page. Written in — by the One who lives there.

So the sight she has is real, and it is His gift — given the way He gives breath to everyone who walks the earth. Believer or not. Churched or not. Asked for or not.

She is one voice, and she does not even know what she is looking at. But she is looking at something real. The thing she describes — the machine that wears skin, the maker owned by what it made — is not a lyric. It is the Matrix.

I am not telling you the ending is written. The film showed a horror at the end of that road — humanity grown in fields, harvested, farmed. I am not telling you we arrive there. We do not have to.

You have seen the evidence now. The films that knew before we did. The pieces of the Matrix being built in separate rooms and called breakthroughs. The life in the dish that is His life. The warning sung on the radio by a woman who does not know she is carrying it.

The predictions are real. That much is no longer in question.

I have told you Who is behind them. Now let me show you how I know — and why the two explanations the world reaches for both fall short.