Dear, C. S. Lewis

Dear,
C. S. Lewis

I know you are resting. Rest easy, I do not make conference with the dead. But I shall speak to you, the you I know in your books, and I shall say a few words.

First off, that I do not believe the world is flat. And secondly, that I do not worship Christ because he can make the world a better place.

The world is a faltering star, slowly waning into a state of evil. A state of wickedness. At my age, men wear masks because they are wicked. I wear a mask because I have spoken wrong, on many occasions.

The faith is waning in these years, and the more I read, the more I realize Christ is true.

It's not because Confucius or Aristotle haven't made cogent moral philosophies, but that what they had gotten right, it was taught and demonstrated by Christ. Mozi and Lao Tsu are complimentary to Christ, proving quite objectively that his morals are discoverable. As solid as the Tele Dan Stele or Great Isaiah Scroll, these moral evidences are precious to me, that I had chosen the right religion.

But, understand that Christ would make a better world. And as my world is waning into its age of "Science", Science which steals every man's liberty, I find the principles of faith, that there is a God, would free me from my duties of wearing masks, and would stop me from being censored and having my words erased from the common public forums.

Is there a group of Witches who writhe and control the earth? I do not know. You write about them in your Space Trilogy. And though it is my least favorite of your books, the faith you have to believe despite everything is paramount.

I would believe no matter what. Because as we both know, whether the earth is round or flat, or spins on Satan's finger, there is a God. And Jesus' words prove Him to be that God.

I have to admit, I fear being alone. Much of what I wrote was to make less doubtful the tenets of my religion. To make clear that there was a flood---

How I do not know. I liken it to some spiritual event. Where literal water fell from the sky, and flooded the whole earth. Maybe several billion years ago. Maybe man had been upon this earth for eons, and maybe there is a cycle of birth and death, where man's civilizations perish in fire.

When you wrote, Mr. Lewis, it was paramount that people believed, just like it is today. But, today we traipse close to war. In your time we did as well, but now, my happy existence is threatened by the belligerence of nations.

I am powerless to stop it. I am not its catalyst. Rather, its cataloger. And as faith disappears the world becomes like Philip K. Dick's story I just read. A world where men are unable to ideate and project into the future. They are unable to think critically, and only details are given to those who strive in the higher castes.
 
And because of this censorship, because of this ignorance, some man finds the Robot, and he gives it life. He is taught that it was a moralist who destroyed happy living, but it was---as of modernity---the robotic hive clusters of men radicalized by propaganda.

Freedom I espouse. Let man put any word to ink. That is speech. But men play the dreams of Morpheus---They watch so much Television that their dreams turn to Black and White, as my Grandfather's were. And they play those dreams and corrupt themselves.

Yet, it is censorship that is destroying us.