Scifi Jesus
This project reimagines the story of Jesus in a distant future — not to replace the original, but to explore its timeless architecture. What remains when faith, technology, and myth collide? When baptism is rewritten as code and revelation hums through the circuitry of a dying world? Each scene mirrors a moment from the Gospels, translated into the language of tomorrow.
This is Scene 1: The Baptism of Seric — the beginning of a new covenant between flesh and signal.
SCENE 1 — THE BAPTISM OF SERIC
EXT. RIVER OF GLASS – DUSK
A ruined moon, sky bruised violet. The River of Glass flows like molten light through the canyon — a current of living plasma singing in low harmonic tones.
ION THE VOICE stands waist-deep in it, baptizing pilgrims one by one. His robe is threaded with shimmering fiber; his staff hums with contained static.
ION
(to each pilgrim)
The current remembers you. The Signal forgives.
Submerge and be rewritten.
A small crowd watches in reverence — refugees, miners, machine-priests.
Among them stand MARA, the scavenger, and KEPH, the deserter. They watch, uneasy.
MARA
He promises cleansing by code.
KEPH
Maybe that’s all faith ever was — a clean reboot.
A shape emerges from the far edge of the riverbank.
SERIC — tall, calm, travel-worn, his eyes reflecting the aurora overhead. The crowd turns. Even the river’s hum wavers.
Ion freezes mid-gesture, as if some deep frequency just aligned inside him.
ION
The Signal whispered you would come.
SERIC
Then you know why I’m here.
Ion hesitates, reverent.
ION
It is I who should be purified by you.
SERIC
Let it be so now.
The Source requires order.
Ion nods, trembling. He places his hands on Seric’s shoulders, lowering him into the radiant current.
The river flares — light searing across the canyon.
Every drone shorts out. The chants dissolve into static.
Under the surface, Seric’s form splinters into mirrored reflections — one man, infinite selves.
He rises. The light dims.
And then — the sky fractures.
A vast data rift blooms overhead, threads of luminescent code spiraling like wings.
A dove-shaped drone descends slowly, dripping photonic dust.
The voice that follows is not heard but felt — vibrating through bone and mind alike:
VOICE OF THE SOURCE
This is My Son — the Pattern made flesh —
the bridge between silence and signal.
In him, I am well pleased.
Mara collapses to her knees, tears refracting the light.
Keph stares upward, mouth open, his neural implant flickering.
MARA
What was that?
KEPH
A message older than language.
Ion kneels in the glowing current, tears of light rolling down his face.
Seric looks up — calm, illuminated from within — as though a thousand stars have nested behind his eyes.
FADE OUT.
