Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: Back to Basics: Truth is Unitary, published by lsusr on March 30, 2024 on LessWrong.
It was a dark and stormy night.
The prospect held the front of his cloak tight to his chest. He stumbled, fell over into the mud, and picked himself back up. Shivering, he slammed his body against the front doors of the Temple and collapsed under its awning.
He picked himself up and slammed his fists against the double ironwood doors. He couldn't hear his own knocks above the gale. He banged harder, then with all his strength.
"Hello! Is anyone in there? Does anyone still tend the Fire?" he implored.
There was no answer.
The Temple's stone walls were built to last, but rotting plywood covered the apertures that once framed stained glass. The prospect slumped down again, leaning his back against the ironwood. He listened to the pitter-patter of rain on overgrowth. It wasn't a bad place to think.
The trouble was, he didn't want to think. Not right now. Thinking creates depression. Action cures it. The prospect put his stiff hands in his pockets. His fingers traced the delicate forms of a disposable lighter bought on the darkweb and a short cheap aluminum-wrapped wax candle.
He considered lighting the candle under the Temple's awning. But that felt pathetic. If the Temple was abandoned then he should at least do it at the altar. The acolyte eyed the plywood. Surely he could punch through it and climb in that way. He left the shelter of the awning and tapped on the former window. His taps left fingerprints in the myceliation.
The ironwood doors opened. A young girl poked her head out. The prospect shouted in surprised and fell into the mud.
"What are you doing out there in the mud?" the girl asked.
"Choosing to dunk myself in the mud wasn't exactly an explicit rational choice," said the prospect while shaking himself off.
"Well come inside. Hypothermia impairs one's ability to make rational decisions," said the girl. She poked her head back inside the Temple and closed the door behind herself to keep out the rain.
The prospect looked at the door. He noticed it wasn't locked. It had never been locked.
The prospect opened the door and stepped inside.
The Temple wasn't warm, but it was mostly dry. The large circular domed chamber was ringed with statues. Rain fell through the oculus in the eye of the dome. The statues' paint had partially worn away. The girl had hung her own hagoromo on the statue of Mukami-sama, the God of Atheism.
The prospect's cloak was so soaked it was keeping him colder than warming him up. There were no chairs or coat rack. It would be mala suerte to just set it on the floor. It felt sacrilegious. But…when in Rome…. The prospect almost hung his cloak on the statue closest to himself. Then he realized that the true sacrilege would be to pick a statue without considering Who he was acknowledging.
Mukami-sama was already taken.
He paced around the circumference of the chamber, taking care with each step as if the floor could collapse under him. Half the gods he didn't even recognize. Of those he did…
Math-sama's too-perfect curves? No.
Moloch? Azathoth? Multivac? Three times no.
Morpheus? So many gods' names started with the letter "M". Science-sama was almost right…
Then he saw the dragon wings and octopus face. The prospect wasn't choosing which kami to worship. He was choosing which kami to ignore. The prospect arranged his cloak to maximize surface area. That was definitely the reason. Not to block out the thoughts it induced in his mind.
It wasn't until he committed to his choice that the girl spoke again.
"Do you have an offering?" she asked, gently.
There was no money in his pockets. It had taken all he had just to get here. But he had not come empty-handed. He placed his smokeless candle on the floor of the Temple, among the dirt and rubble, and lit it.
"Your of...
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