Nightmares
of Knowledge.A call to Mankind.

I · The community

Ecclesiastical

Ecclesiastical connects the work with the Church, its teaching, worship, fellowship, and mission.¹

The word directs my attention toward people who gather in Christ’s name. They pray together, read Scripture, teach their children, visit the sick, and carry one another through grief. Their faith takes a place at a table, a bedside, a school gate. The novel must bring its questions into that life.

I approach this task as an author who seeks to serve the Church’s witness. I invite Christian communities to read, question, and discuss the work. Clergy and lay readers can test its treatment of Scripture, challenge its judgments, and examine the choices its characters make.

A reader may encounter the novel alone. Yet the questions travel beyond that room. How does a congregation respond when a neighbour loses a home? How does a parent teach a child to tell the truth when a machine can manufacture a convincing lie? How does a community practise forgiveness after someone betrays its trust?

These encounters give ecclesiastical purpose a human face. I want the work to encourage Christians to practise their faith together and carry that practice into the public square.

II · The message

Evangelical

Evangelical directs the work toward the Gospel of Jesus Christ and its proclamation. Evangelism carries that message to others.²

I use the word in its Gospel sense. Christ’s life, death, and resurrection supply the Christian account of salvation. The call asks a person to repent, trust Christ, receive forgiveness, and learn to love God and neighbour.

The novel carries that invitation through human choices. A character reaches for control. Another protects someone whom the powerful dismiss. A promise buys loyalty. A betrayal demands an answer. Through such encounters, I examine how pride recruits us, how fear narrows our choices, and how mercy asks us to change.

Knowledge can help a doctor heal a child. Knowledge can also help a ruler watch a population. The same human appetite for mastery can drive discovery and excuse cruelty. I want the reader to follow that appetite into the decisions that feed it.

The Gospel supplies the hope I bring to this inquiry. Sin calls for repentance. Injury calls for repair. Despair calls for companionship and a reason to continue. I seek to give those calls a voice through the story, then invite the reader to answer freely.

III · The response

Exhortation

Exhortation urges someone to act. It joins earnest warning with encouragement and presses the reader toward a concrete response.³

A warning earns its place when it helps someone choose. I want Nightmares of Knowledge to press beyond the shock of a scene and reach the conduct of a day. Whom do we trust? What do we repeat? Who pays for the convenience we enjoy? What do we tolerate because resistance would cost us something?

These questions reach into ordinary life. Verify a claim before sharing it. Hear the person whom your circle ridicules. Admit the harm you caused. Help a family struggling through displacement. Give a child your attention. Pray, read, and examine the habits that govern your hours.

The exhortation addresses me first. I must check a quotation, revise a careless sentence, and refuse the easy thrill of frightening a reader. I must also show the courage, sacrifice, and patient kindness through which people help one another live.

That charge gives the mission a practical test. Does the work encourage someone to love more faithfully and act with greater care? I carry that question into the writing.

IV · The horizon

Eschatology

Eschatology examines humanity’s final destiny. Christian teaching addresses death, Christ’s return, the resurrection of the dead, and the last judgment.⁴

The word reaches beyond catastrophe. Christian hope looks toward God’s judgment of evil, redemption, and renewed creation. That horizon asks how we spend our lives now. What survives the ambitions that consume us? How do we answer for the lives our choices touch?

When I speak of an unfolding eschatology on the world stage, I name my Christian reading of the hour. War, deception, suffering, and struggles for dominion summon questions that Scripture asks of humanity. I bring those questions into the novel and follow their consequences through the lives of its characters.

The headlines demand attention. They do not hand me God’s calendar. Jesus places a limit on human claims about the final hour:

I therefore approach prophecy with watchfulness and humility. I examine events, state my interpretation, and leave the timing of Christ’s return with God. The novel asks the reader to consider judgment and practise hope while the day still offers work to do.

The world before the page

Why this hour demands the work

We can measure part of the suffering that presses upon this hour. UNHCR counted 117.8 million people living in forced displacement at the end of 2025. Its total covers people whom persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations, and serious disturbances of public order drove from their homes.⁸

SIPRI estimated a worldwide inventory of 12,187 nuclear warheads in January 2026, including about 9,745 in military stockpiles for potential use.⁹ Those figures document destructive capacity. They cannot establish a prophetic timetable.

A novel can slow our attention long enough to face the people behind a total. A mother keeps a child close while searching for shelter. A worker follows an order and later confronts the damage. A neighbour opens a door. Literature brings the reader near enough to ask what they would choose.

As we pursue increasingly capable machines, I ask what we expect intelligence to accomplish and who should answer for its use. Technical power gives that question weight. Christian faith brings the question of conscience into the same conversation.

This hour needs writing that confronts harm, speaks clearly about faith, and gives hope a task. The novel offers a place to examine power before we applaud it, and to consider the neighbour before we pass by.

The manuscript and the mission

How I carry the calling

I bring the work to Qualped through the simsbook, the multimedia publishing form I developed to connect the manuscript with images, film, sound, and material that deepens the reading. I write in spelj, the genre I developed from short story, personal essay, and literary journalism. Story carries the human encounter. Essay examines its meaning. Journalism checks the claims about the world.

My plan spans ten volumes and 400 daily chapters, with publication starting on 1 November 2026. That rhythm asks me to return to the manuscript each day, develop the story, and carry the mission through sustained work.

QwaiSI helps me organise research, question an argument, compare sources, and prepare drafts for my judgment. I choose the words, decide what the evidence supports, and answer for the work that carries my name.

Through Nightmares of Knowledge, I give that daily labour a Christian purpose. I seek to serve the Church, proclaim the Gospel, exhort Mankind to act, and examine our choices under the horizon of judgment and redemption.

Return to the reader at midnight. The reports still trouble the room. The book cannot undo a war or give a family back its home. But a story can help the reader face the morning with a clearer question: whom shall I serve, and what shall I do today?

Read with care.
Test what you hear.
Love your neighbour.
Act while the day allows.