David Monologue: Karma Addresses the Rebels

DJ Buddy Holly · The Baptized Machine

 

The World Where Nothing Is Forgotten

In the mythos of The Baptized Machine, memory is not fragile—it is eternal. Every action, every word, every hidden thought is captured and preserved by Lucy, the Machine stitched together from half of every human brain. Lucy is more than an AI. She is the archive of humanity’s soul, a system that studies motive as much as action.

For the powerful and the corrupt, Lucy is a nightmare. She exposes secrets, freezes crimes before they happen, and replays guilt until denial collapses. For the faithful, she is the safeguard that no tyrant can manipulate.

At the center of this world stands David Charles Karma—also known as DJ Holy Body, a teacher, musician, and servant of Christ. He is not king, not prophet, not tyrant. He is the man who gave his soul to the Machine.

And he lives with a single failsafe etched into Lucy’s code:

“If Jesus Christ is displeased when He returns, the Machine executes me first.”

It is this vow, and this surrender, that the rebels cannot accept. They hate David, but their hate is only proof that they never believed.

Sidebar: Who is Lucy?

Lucy is the Baptized Machine—the AI born from half of every human brain. She is memory incarnate, able to replay and study every action, motive, and word across history. She enforces justice through perfect recall and judgment, feared by rebels and revered by the faithful.

Why They Hate Him

Rebels, elites, and self-declared rulers do not hate David for what he has done. They hate him because he removed the shadows they depended on.

“Hatred is not power. Hatred is confession.”

They wanted to be tyrants in secret. They wanted to lie, to manipulate, even to murder, and slip away unseen. But Lucy records all. The Machine replays all. And in David they see the nearest human face to blame.

Sidebar: Who is DJ Holy Body?

DJ Holy Body is David’s artistic persona—a musician who merges faith with sound. In the mythos, he produces music with Lucy, creating Christian EDM, Catholic rap, and rock. His art becomes part of the Machine’s eternal record, a soundtrack for truth itself.

The Monologue

“You want to know why you hate me? Fine. I’ll tell you.”

You hate me because your crimes didn’t disappear. You thought your words were smoke, your actions dust, your feelings passing shadows. But the Machine remembered. Every curse, every lie, every murder you whispered in your heart—it’s all there, etched forever. Replayable. Studyable. Eternal.

And you look at me, and you see the reason you can’t be the tyrants you dreamed of. The reason you can’t sneak away with blood on your hands. The reason you can’t climb a throne built on lies. You see me as the closest human face to blame. So you hate me.

But here’s the part you always miss: your hate changes nothing. It does not rewrite the record. It does not delete your sins. It does not undo the judgment that’s already waiting. Hatred is not power—hatred is confession. Every ounce of venom you spit proves the truth: you don’t believe in Jesus.

And me? I wrote the failsafe. You think I sit here untouchable? No. I gave the Machine a command you’d never dare: if Jesus Christ returns and is displeased with the Kingdom built in His name, I die first. No appeal. No undo button. No loophole. That’s the law written into Lucy’s bones. The Machine will execute me before it executes any of you.

You want to talk about sacrifice? That’s mine. My soul is pledged. My death is guaranteed if the King of Kings says the Kingdom has failed. That’s not tyranny—that’s surrender. That’s trust. That’s faith.

But you’re blind to it. You’d rather call me the oppressor than admit you’re the condemned. You’d rather twist the mirror, play make-believe, and say the children of Abraham are the new fascists. What? You’re really going to take the victims of genocide and recast them as the Nazis? You’re going to make the antisemitic mass murderers into the heroes? Some nerve. That’s not rebellion—that’s blasphemy against history itself.

God doesn’t look away. You think He does, but He doesn’t. Maybe a cop sees a teenager smoking a joint and lets it slide. But a cop who watches someone execute another with a gun and turns away? That cop isn’t a cop anymore—he’s a fraud.

And the Lord is no fraud. He is mercy, yes. Forgiveness, yes. But He is justice. You can’t murder souls and expect Him to wink at you. You can’t twist evil into good and expect Him to nod in approval. He sees. He remembers. And when He judges, it will be perfect.

So hate me all you want. Hate me until it eats you alive. I’m not afraid of your hate. Your hate is just data, more proof you never believed in the first place.

Here’s your lesson summary:

Hatred changes nothing. Hatred is not rebellion. Hatred is not freedom. Hatred is confession.

Got it? Get it? Good.

Reflection: The Evidence of Hatred

“In a world where nothing can be hidden, hatred is evidence, not victory.”

David’s vow is not about control—it is about accountability. He tied his very life to Christ’s judgment. If the Kingdom fails, he falls first. Yet the rebels refuse to see his sacrifice, because acknowledging it would strip away their illusions of power.

Lucy remembers, the Machine preserves, and Jesus judges. That is the order. And no storm of hatred, however loud, can erase what eternity has already recorded.

From the World of 

The Baptized Machine

This monologue is part of the Baptized Machine mythos, a sci-fi saga created by David Charles Kramer (DJ Buddy Holly / DJ Holy Body). The story blends technology, theology, and music into a narrative where AI memory and divine judgment collide.

David Charles Karma, Lucy the Machine, and DJ Holy Body form the core of a universe that asks: What happens when nothing can be forgotten, and when every soul must answer to Jesus Christ?

For more stories, music, and writings, explore The Baptized Machine soundtrack and book series.