Saving Planet Ultima

A young missionary couple shoots for the stars...

My wife Carrie and I marched up the stairs of the budget space cruiser, hauling our luggage. She clutched a tablet loaded with Christian study books; mine had a Bible, along with some spy thrillers. Our reading tastes were similar, but Carrie had more spiritual dedication than I. The thought of sitting in a cold, drafty spaceship with nothing but curmudgeonly commentaries to pore through was even more anxiety-inducing than the prospect of freeze-dried space food for the next three days. That's assuming our ship's wormhole entry was smooth. For the price, I expected a bumpy ride.

I paused my rumination long enough to wave my phone under the boarding checkpoint. We took our seats.

“Here's hoping our mission is fruitful,” I said. “It isn't every day a young couple like us secures passage to Planet Ultima.”

“We've met the requirements,” Carrie responded. “You're exactly the rising lawyer The Firm needs, and I can teach English to the children. I can't wait to share the gospel with them!”

“Be circumspect about it. You know Ultima has a one-world government and a state-sponsored religion.”

“Yes, Jim. Look how lost they are. The AI they worship is a tool to keep them in line.”

“Indeed, but how can we change it? We could get sent to the mines for attempting to evangelize.”

“We'll start small, with house gatherings and lots of prayer.”

The spaceship gave a sudden lurch sideways.

“Right now I'm praying we arrive safely.”

“God will preserve us for His purposes.” Carrie patted my hand.

I marveled at her calmness. If only my faith was that strong. Growing up, I'd wanted to be a pastor, but my parents had insisted a law career was wiser, as Christianity was becoming obsolete in the space age. I stared out the porthole at the rapidly shrinking blue marble of Earth. Would God be with us on the other side of the galaxy? Maybe the leaders were right: Christianity was strictly an Earthbound religion, not intended for the spiritual needs of an intergalactic population. But Carrie was determined to bring the Word of God to the people of Ultima, and I wasn't letting her do it alone.

We made it to Ultima without incident, watching in awe as glowing steel cityscapes unfurled beneath us. It was “The Gem of the Known Universe,” a thriving, precisely balanced civilization built from scratch. The Sun was a cool, dull red, owing to our greater distance from it. The atmosphere was artificially modified with additional carbon dioxide to maintain an adequate and steady climate.

“Sir, your companion device is ready.”

We sat in the immigration office, with our luggage at our feet and virtual paperwork lined up on tablets at the table. The man who had interrupted my nerdy reverie handed me and Carrie each a handheld screen resembling a smartphone.

“What are these?”

“Every Ultima resident is assigned, at birth or arrival, a unique lifetime AI companion. The more you interact with it, the more helpful it becomes. Our wealthiest people trained their AI partners to run crypto mining operations or other forms of passive income.”

“Interesting,” I murmured.

He droned on further, telling us how these AIs developed unique personalities according to their assigned human, growing and evolving with them from infancy. I wondered what the true purpose was of giving everyone on the planet a personal chatbot. When he demonstrated how the devices read and stored our vital signs, helping both diagnose potential medical issues and encourage healthy living habits, I realized how much control could be wielded this way.

As we walked out of the immigration office, with our citizenship papers digitally approved and loaded into our AI devices, I turned to Carrie.

“You think there's room for God in such a highly technological society?”

“God is always with us. As long as humans have hearts, He can reach them.”

“I pray you're right.”

***

Settling into our apartment, we realized Ultima was designed to discourage human interaction. All mundane tasks such as grocery shopping, bills, repairs, and laundry were handled by specialized robots and AI. Both my law practice and Carrie's tutoring were work from home jobs. No physical churches, only a weekly state sponsored blessing ceremony which could be “attended” via a virtual reality headset.

“This isn't what I expected,” I said to her one evening after the first month. “We've hardly met another human being, let alone had an opportunity to share Christ with anyone. I don't see how we can influence society at this rate.”

“People weren't meant to live in comfortable boxes,” Carrie observed.

She sat at the kitchen table with sheets of paper and markers. I wondered vaguely where she got them. Art supplies weren't really a thing in a digitized world. If one desired to create, there were art apps capable of simulating the experience of paint and ink on screens.

“I feel more like an imprisoned guinea pig than a human.” I paced back and forth. “This is hardly an advanced society!”

I scowled at the apartment door. All comings and goings were tightly monitored, and anything that wasn't a documented errand required an explanation to be entered into the records kept by the AI “companions.”

“Here, Jim.” Carrie held out a paper. “Let's post these outside.”

I stared at it. She had drawn up an elegant notice: “Prayer meeting, Sunday afternoon. Come to worship and hear a word from the Lord.”

The paper slithered from my hand, fluttering sideways like a dove.

“Are you serious? We can't stick up posters in the streets. They'll say we're littering. Nobody does that here. Everything is electronic. And there are no pedestrians, so who's going to see these?”

“Ah, but that's the point. Jim, dear, do you realize how many people on this citified planet are lonely and hurting? I've been praying. The Lord told me this is the best way to reach out to those who need it most.”

“Only crazy people would be wandering around outside after dark. We'll provide entertainment for the shopping bots and attract the suspicions of the Enforcer bots.”

We argued for a while. Finally I gave in. I needed fresh air. Ultimans were only allowed one visit to a park per week. Neighborhood parks were assigned according to wealth and family status. The park Carrie and I were allowed to visit was more dilapidated than tranquil.

Carrie grabbed her AI device and made a note of our departure. It requested a reason.

“Unexpected desire for outdoor exercise, due in part to prolonged inactivity.”

“I have stored this in your records. You are approved to leave. Remember to return in time for bed.”

I used the same technique to appease my own AI. We left the building with an armload of papers, scotch tape and our inseparable devices.

The streets were metallic, with charging rails for logistics and cleanup bots which whooshed silently past us. Our footsteps echoed, hollow in the evening. Soft blue strip lighting glowed to mark the sidewalks, and whiter lights filled windows of apartments. The city was clean, quiet, safe… And soulless. Everyone was snug indoors, their needs catered to by artificial intelligence.

We hung our posters on sleek, polished steel walls. Invisible cameras watched us. I sensed algorithms whirring, calculating actions to take against our anomalous presence.

“Hon, I feel quite uncomfortable – ”

“Hands up, please.”

We jumped at the surprisingly polite robotic voice behind us. It was a Community Monitor bot, not as aggressive as an Enforcer, but still foreboding. It had likely already initiated contact with our AI devices, thereby identifying us and analyzing the reasons we had given for being outside. We raised our hands silently as it ran an infrared scanner over us.

“Follow me, please.”

“Where are we going?” Carrie asked.

“You've been requested to explain your activities at the station.”

“Have we broken any laws?”

“I'm not at liberty to discuss that. Please follow me.”

The bot moved backwards on its track, and another one appeared. We walked between them, hand in hand, as they guided us towards the administrative district. What would happen?

“This is creepy,” I whispered. “Will we actually talk to a person? Or is everything run by computers?”

“We'll see. The Lord will put us exactly where He wants us to be.”

“I hope he doesn't want us in jail, or slaving at the mines.”

“How many people have been jailed for being Christ followers over the centuries?”

“A great deal too many, if you ask me.”

“Oh ye of little faith…”

At the station, we were ushered into a tiny room with two chairs and several screens on the wall. Within minutes, a man appeared on one, his background casually cluttered as if attending a zoom meeting. He peered through the digital portal at us.

“Greetings. I'm the Commissioner of Safety. Can you tell me what you were doing?”

“We were hanging up posters,” I said, squirming.

“What kind of posters? Perhaps you lost something valuable?”

“As a matter of fact, sir,” Carrie spoke up, “we believe Ultima has lost something quite invaluable.”

“Really?”

“Our humanity and spirituality is being stifled in an overly technological environment. I thought it would be a good idea to offer an opportunity for a few people to gather in prayer and study the word of God.”

“Are the weekly services not adequate?”

“Hardly, sir. People need the physical presence of others to help them cultivate a meaningful connection with the Lord.”

“And besides,” I broke in, “AI is not God. The state sponsored religion teaches people to look to their manmade AI companions for spiritual satisfaction. AI didn't create the universe!”

His jaw shifted. He leaned back in his seat, eyebrows raised.

“What religion are you promoting, then?”

“We know the One True God, who created the heavens and all within them.” Carrie's voice quivered. She straightened her back.

“Do we need Him?”

“We are all sinners and have fallen short,” I said. “Only Christ, the Son of the Living God, can provide salvation through His sacrifice on the cross.”

“Is this what you came here to do: subvert the state religion?”

We glanced at each other. What could we say?

“No, sir,” Carrie ventured. “We only want to bring new life to the poor in spirit.”

“Do you realize how much upheaval you could cause?” he continued. “I cannot allow this. I will be arriving personally to take charge of the situation.”

His screen went black. I squeezed Carrie's hand, uncertain of our fate, asking,

“Why is he coming? Can't we be dealt with by the bots?”

“He must think we're a serious threat.”

“Maybe he thinks we're spies and religious fervor is our ruse.”

“We're spies for Christ,” Carrie smiled.

“Ssh – the walls have ears.”

The uniform-clad Commissioner strode in. He met our gaze with a firm deadpan. His eyes swept the room and landed on Carrie's bundle of posters, lying by her seat. Plucking out one, he studied it closely.

“You drew this up, Ma'am?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, then… Let us pray.”

“Wh – what?”

“I think you're aware of the verse: where two or three are gathered in My name, I am with them.” He smiled then, blue eyes twinkling at our confusion. “I've been praying for people like you to show up. I feared I would remain the only Christian here.”

“Is this a trap?” I sputtered.

He shook his head.

“The time has come to initiate change. Technocracy cannot hold back the Spirit of the Lord.”

Carrie and I stood up. The Commissioner reached out, and we joined hands to pray.

”Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on Ultima, as it is in heaven…”

The bots, cameras, sensors, and AI algorithms couldn't stop us. I didn't know what would happen next, but I knew Who was watching over us, more powerful than any artificial intelligence.


Notes ▼

Words: 1970.
Written for the July 2025 Official WdC Contest, Rhythms and Writing.
Prompt: see lower dropnote.
Also written for "The Lodestar Contest" 
Prompt: Something important is missing. Do you look for it, replace it or learn to live without it?
Also written for "Grill a Christian" 
Prompt: Will God fly with us to the stars? What will become of humanity’s spirituality when we are an interplanetary species?

R&W prompt song ▼