[A soft tune drifts through the feed; it slides through the communicator like a chaser, drifting from long tones to very short bursts of energy. The sound seems to echo for a while before it's slowly tampered off.]Argue it all you want, there's still no Heaven and there's no Hell. Everything's just choice and if you fuck up, you make your maker.
[There's a pause then a thud of a glass hitting a solid surface.] What's the point of faith? You think someone else has a say in your life? If you're that naive, then put your hands in another
man's and see what happens. In the end, you'll be left to your own devices.
[There's a silence before a soft 'clink' comes through the line; what follows is the sound of running liquid.] So, kindly keep your religious holy war to yourselves.
venomized