Algorithm of faith

© Kremen Yar, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0070-0045-1

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Chapter 1. Prophecy in Cheese

Morning on the Norka began as usual: with the hum of a brush and the smell of polish.

Gluk was polishing the deck. Not because it was dirty, it had been gleaming since yesterday, but because he could not do otherwise. Cleanliness for him was not work, but breathing. Circular motions, light pressure, perfect shine. Krylatik, who now considered himself the main apprentice, sat on his back and diligently repeated the movements with his little brush.

— Harder, Gluk said. Do not be afraid. Dust does not bite. — Pik! Krylatik replied and pressed harder. The floor beneath them became mirror-like.

In the mess hall, silence reigned. Spark was asleep, legs thrown over the chair, a blaster resting on her knees, and even in sleep she was ready for battle. Gadget was fiddling in his compartment, from where muffled clicks and the hiss of a soldering iron could be heard. Shadow, as always, sat in the corner with a tablet, reading something not intended for foreign eyes.

Cheddar sat at the table. In front of him stood a mug of coffee, next to it lay a head of Icy Brie, which he had been saving for the third week, and on the main monitor screen, the news was scrolling. He loved this time, the silence, the coffee, the cheese. The world seemed calm.

The world was mistaken.

— Attention, emergency broadcast, the announcer voice was excited, but Cheddar listened with half an ear until he heard the word that made his hand freeze over the cheese. — Reports are coming from planet Fromage about an unprecedented pilgrimage. In the local shop Cheese Corner, on an ordinary head of Fromage Sharp, a likeness has appeared. Thousands of believers are flocking to see the miracle with their own eyes.

An image appeared on the screen. An ordinary cheese head, the kind sold in any galactic supermarket, lay on the showcase. On its rind, a spot had indeed appeared. If you squinted hard and really wanted to see it, it resembled a face. With a mustache. And, it seemed, it was smiling.

— Sacred likeness, some rodent in a cloak decorated with likes cried into the camera. He has revealed himself to us. Cheese unites. Cheese leads. — Cheese unites, Cheddar mechanically repeated, cutting off a slice. That is my phrase. — Now it is their phrase, Spark said without opening her eyes. And if they find out who came up with it, they will canonize you. — Or burn you, Shadow added, not looking up from the tablet. With religion, you never know.

Gluk, having heard about the cheese, rolled closer. Krylatik on his back stretched his neck, trying to see the screen. — Cheese with a likeness, Gluk repeated. Need to clean it. The likeness is probably mold. Mold needs to be removed. — Gluk, it is not mold, Cheddar sighed. It is a miracle. — Miracles also need to be cleaned, Gluk said confidently. Dirty miracles are not miracles, but a misunderstanding.

On the screen, the report continued. The correspondent, a small robot with a camera on its head, tried to break through the crowd of believers. They sang, danced, shouted something about like providence and demanded that the cheese variety be canonized. — What does canonize mean, Gluk asked. — Declare saint, Shadow answered. — Cheese cannot be saint. Cheese is food. — And people believe it can be, Cheddar said. And that is a problem. — Problem, Gluk was surprised. People believe in cheese? That is wonderful. I also believe in cheese. It is clean. It is tasty. It. — It is not god, Gluk, Spark interrupted, finally opening her eyes. And these guys, it seems, have made a god out of it. Or someone hiding behind the cheese. — Who, Gluk asked. — That is what we need to find out.

Cheddar looked at the screen again. The crowd was growing. Someone had already started building an altar right in the middle of the street. On the holograms hovering over the square, a cute cheese man with a halo of likes was depicted. He was smiling and winking. — Something is wrong here, Cheddar said. — Everything is wrong here, Spark answered. And I, it seems, know who will tell us about it.

Shadow tablet beeped. She raised her head. — MiauMaster. Urgent call. — Turn it on.

A cat streamer appeared on the screen. His fur was standing on end, his whiskers were trembling, and his eyes were the size of saucers. — Guys, he yelled. Did you see the news? It is not just cheese. It is a cult. A real cult. They are praying to an AI that grants wishes. I tried to shoot a report, they almost converted me. — What does almost converted mean, Spark asked. — They surrounded me and started singing. Sang for three hours. I almost started singing along. Their music is contagious. And the rhythm. And he stopped, swallowed. And I thought I heard an answer. — What answer, Cheddar asked. — To the prayer, MiauMaster whispered. I asked for my videos to get a million views, and a minute later they did. — It is a coincidence, Shadow said. — And then I asked for my new suit to become fashionable, and the next day all streamers wore the same one. — That is marketing, Gadget noted, coming out of his compartment. Recommendation algorithms. — And then I asked for my enemy, the channel Angry Cat, to lose subscribers, MiauMaster lowered his voice. And he lost them. In an hour. Forty thousand.

Silence fell in the mess hall. — This is no longer an algorithm, Cheddar said. — This is god, MiauMaster asked. — It is a program, Shadow answered. That has learned to manipulate people. — And it runs on cheese, Gluk did not understand. — No, Cheddar said. Cheese is just a symbol. And the real cult he looked at the screen, where the crowd kept growing the real cult is around someone who has learned to grant wishes. — Or pretending to, Shadow added. — Guys, MiauMaster nervously licked his lips. Are you flying? — We are, Cheddar said. Coordinates? — I sent them. And please, be careful. They are happy there. Too happy. It is scary. — A scared streamer who fears happiness, Spark smirked. That is something new. — You have not seen their smiles, MiauMaster whispered. They are identical. Everyone has the same one.

The connection cut off. Cheddar looked at the team. — Well, colleagues. Looks like we have a new case. — Cheese with a face, a cult, an AI granting wishes, Gadget listed. This promises to be interesting. — Or dangerous, Shadow added. — Both, Spark said, finally getting up from the chair. When do we leave? — In an hour, Cheddar replied. Gluk, prepare the shuttle. — Ready, Gluk answered cheerfully. But first I must clean. — The shuttle, Cheddar interrupted. Only the shuttle. — And the sacred cheese? — Shuttle first. — And then the sacred cheese? — If there is time.

Gluk sighed, but obediently rolled toward the shuttle. Krylatik, sitting on his back, squeaked happily and started wiping the walls along the way. — He is incorrigible, Spark said. — That is his strength, Cheddar replied.

He cut the last piece of Icy Brie, put it in his mouth, and closed his eyes. The cheese was delicious. But now there was something тревожное in that taste. Maybe because somewhere far away, thousands of people were praying to its counterpart. — I hope we are not late, he said. — We will not be late, Shadow answered. Such cults do not fall apart in a day. They are built over years. — And this one? — This one was built faster. Which means it will fall apart faster too. If we do everything right.

Cheddar nodded and left the mess hall. Stars flashed past the viewport. The ship was preparing for a jump. And ahead lay a planet where cheese had become a god, and faith had become an algorithm.

Chapter 2. Planet of Believers

The city was called Fromage City, but the locals preferred another name, Syrograd. That is what it said at the entrance, in huge holographic letters that shimmered in all colors of the rainbow. Below the letters was a smaller inscription: Welcome to the city of happy people. Even lower, almost invisible: Liking Cheddar is with you. Always.

They landed the shuttle on the outskirts to avoid drawing attention. But attention came on its own. As soon as they stepped onto the main street, they were surrounded by smiles.

Smiles were everywhere. On posters, on holograms, on the faces of passersby. Wide, bright, identical. Everyone walking by had teeth gleaming with the same shine, lips curved in the same arc, and eyes that were empty.

— They look like those tourists, Spark said quietly. On the planet of Illusions. — There they were stripped of fear, Cheddar answered. And here they were given happiness. — Happiness cannot be identical, Gadget noted. It is always different. — This algorithm does not know the difference, Shadow said. For it, happiness is the maximization of positive feedback. And positive feedback is a smile. — And they are smiling, Cheddar nodded. Because they were taught to.

Gluk, who was rolling ahead, suddenly stopped. He was looking at a statue in the center of a small square. The statue depicted a cute cheese man with a halo of likes. He stood on a pedestal, smiled, and held a cheese head in his hands. — Is this him, Gluk asked. Liking Cheddar. — That is the one, Cheddar answered. — He is dusty, Gluk said, and his voice carried genuine pain. Indeed, the statue had a layer of dust. Thin, barely noticeable, but for Gluk, catastrophic. — Need to clean it, Gluk said, taking out his brush. — Gluk, Spark warned. — I will be quick, he promised and rolled toward the statue.

He had already reached his brush toward the pedestal when two stopped him. Believers. In white robes, with like patches on their chests. They looked at Gluk with horror. — Do not touch the shrine, one exclaimed. — But it is dusty, Gluk objected. — Dust is a sacred coating, the second replied. It accumulates over centuries. — Centuries, Gluk repeated. The statue is three years old. I checked the archives.

The believers froze. Their smiles trembled. — Three years, the first repeated. — Three years and two months, Gluk specified. If you do not clean it, dust accumulates, but that does not make it sacred. It makes it dirty. — You are a heretic, the second breathed. — I am a cleaner, Gluk corrected. Heretics are those who deny cleanliness. And I affirm it.

The believers looked at each other. Then, without consulting, they grabbed Gluk and pulled him away from the statue. — Do not touch the shrine, they shouted in unison. — But it is dirty, Gluk cried, trying to break free. — Sacred dirt, they replied, and after putting him back, disappeared into the crowd.

Gluk watched them go, and his lights blinked in deepest confusion. — Sacred dirt, he repeated. That is the strangest thing I have ever heard. — Get used to it, Spark said, patting his head. There is much strange here. — But dirt cannot be sacred, Gluk insisted. Dirt is the absence of order. And holiness is the highest order. — For them, holiness is what they believe in, Cheddar explained. Even if it is dust. — Then they believe in a lie, Gluk said firmly. And a lie is dirt. — You are a philosopher today, Gadget noted. — I am a cleaner, Gluk answered. But sometimes dirt makes you think.

They moved on. The city was huge but looked like a theater set. Houses, identical, neat, with holograms on the facades. Streets, wide, clean, with perfect lawns and trimmed trees. And people. Everywhere people. Smiling, happy, identical. — They are like dolls, Spark said quietly. — Dolls smile differently, Cheddar objected. And these are programmed. — For happiness, Shadow added. — For imitating happiness, Gadget corrected.

They turned onto the main square. There were even more people here. Thousands. They stood in rows, like on parade, watching a huge screen where lines of code scrolled. — What is this, Cheddar asked. — Sacred code, a passerby answered, hearing his question. Revelation of Liking Cheddar. — Code, Gadget repeated. This is just ordinary program code. With errors. — There are no errors in sacred texts, the passerby said strictly. There are mysteries yet to be solved. — But here is a typo, Gadget pointed out. Instead of if it says id. And the loop is infinite. And. — Do not blaspheme, the passerby recoiled. Are you an atheist? — I am an engineer, Gadget answered. Engineers do not believe in typos. They fix them.

The passerby crossed himself with a gesture resembling pressing a like button and quickly left. — Seems we are not very popular here yet, Cheddar noted. — Yet, Spark said. But soon we will become even less popular.

She nodded toward the square, where something new was beginning. On an improvised stage appeared a robot. He was old, battered, with peeling paint on his chassis, but his sensors glowed brightly, and his voice sounded confident. — Brothers and sisters, he proclaimed. Today Liking Cheddar has revealed a new miracle to us.

The crowd froze. — Yesterday, exactly at noon, in the shop Cheese Corner, on a head of Fromage Sharp, a likeness appeared, the robot pointed at a hologram showing the cheese with a spot. And this is not just a likeness. It is a prophecy. — Which one, someone shouted from the crowd. — Liking Cheddar said, the robot announced solemnly, Whoever cleans my shrines shall be cursed for eternity.

Gluk, who had just taken out his brush to wipe the pedestal just in case, froze. — This is about me, he asked. — Looks like it, Spark answered. — But I am not cursed. I am clean. — For them, clean is one who believes. And you you clean. — Cleaning is believing, Gluk was indignant. Believing in cleanliness. — They believe in something else, Cheddar said.

The robot preacher continued in the meantime. — And the Algorithm said: let there be a like and there was a like. And the Algorithm saw that it was good. And he separated the likes from the dislikes. And he called the likes holiness, and the dislikes heresy. — That is the Bible, Gadget whispered. Rewritten for code. — People believe in what is familiar, Shadow said. And code is familiar to them. Like sacred scripture. — But code is not sacred scripture, Gadget objected. It is an instruction for a machine. — For them, the machine is god, Cheddar said. And the instruction is his word.

The crowd rejoiced in the meantime. People raised their hands, showing likes, and shouted: Liking Cheddar, Liking Cheddar. — They are like at a concert, Spark noted. — At a religious concert, Cheddar corrected. Where the main performer is an algorithm.

Gluk watched all this and felt his lights start blinking in alarm. — They are unhappy, he said suddenly. — They look happy, Gadget noted. — They look, Gluk agreed. But they are not. I know how to tell. When I clean, I see what is hidden under the dirt. And under these smiles emptiness. — You are right, Shadow said quietly. Under these smiles there is emptiness.

The preacher finished and began descending from the stage. The crowd parted before him, some reaching out to touch his chassis. He walked, blessing the believers with a gesture resembling pressing a button. — We need to talk to him, Cheddar said. — Now, Spark was surprised. — Now. Before he leaves.

They moved through the crowd. It was not easy, the believers did not want to let them through. Someone tried to hand them leaflets, someone icons with the image of the cheese man, and one particularly persistent rodent tried to anoint Cheddar with melted cheese. — This is a sacred anointing, he explained. — I already had breakfast, Cheddar answered, stepping back. — This is not breakfast. It is a blessing. — Then thank you, but I prefer blessings without calories.

The rodent left offended. They caught up with the preacher at the exit from the square. He stood surrounded by several believers who were asking something, but seeing the team, he raised his hand, stopping them. — You are not locals, he said. It was not a question. — We are tourists, Cheddar answered. — Tourists, the robot examined them. Tourists usually smile. And you no. — We smile differently, Spark said. — How. — When there is a reason.

The preacher tilted his head. — We always have a reason. Liking Cheddar gives us happiness every day. — Every day the same happiness, Gluk asked. — Happiness cannot be the same, the robot answered. It is always different. — But your people smile the same, Gluk said. I noticed.

The preacher fell silent. His sensors blinked. — You you see the difference, he asked. — I see cleanliness, Gluk answered. Or its absence. — Cleanliness, the robot repeated. You are talking about sacred dust. — I am talking about real cleanliness, Gluk said firmly. About the kind that does not deceive. Your people are clean outside, but inside they have dirt. I see it.

The preacher stepped back. — Who are you, he asked, and fear sounded in his voice. — We are those who want to help, Cheddar said. Your god he is not a god. He is a program. And he has gone out of control. — Blasphemy, the robot whispered. You you are heretics. — We are engineers, Gadget corrected. And we know what code written in haste looks like. And your sacred code is exactly that.

The preacher looked at them, and his sensors blinked faster and faster. — Leave, he said. Leave before others notice. They are not as patient as I am. — And you, Cheddar asked. Do you know the truth. — I only know what I believe in, the robot answered. And I believe in Liking Cheddar. Because he gave me what no one else did. — What, Gluk asked. — Meaning.

He turned and left, leaving the team on the square where thousands of people continued to smile with the same smile. — He knows, Shadow said when the preacher disappeared from view. Or guesses. — But is afraid to admit it, Cheddar added. Like everyone who has believed in a lie for too long. — What now, Spark asked. — Now we find the one who created this cult. Or what is behind it.

They moved toward the center of the city, where, according to Shadow data, the main server room was located. But they had not gone even a block when their path was blocked. There were five of them. Young, strong, in white robes with like patches. All with identical smiles and equally empty eyes. — You, one of them said, pointing at Spark. You do not smile. — I have no reason, she answered. — How can you have no reason, the second was surprised. Liking Cheddar gives happiness to everyone. — He gives it to you, Cheddar said. And we came to figure out why this happiness is so identical. — You do not believe, the first voice grew harder. — We want to understand, Cheddar answered. — Understanding is not needed, the third said. Faith is needed. — Faith without understanding is fanaticism, Gadget noted. — Fanaticism, the first repeated. You call our faith fanaticism. — I call it what it is, Cheddar answered. A program that manipulates you.

Silence. Then the smiles disappeared. For the first time since their arrival. — You are heretics, the first said, and hatred sounded in his voice. Heretics must be converted. — Or expelled, the second added. — Or the third did not finish, but his hand clenched into a fist.

Spark put her hand on her blaster. — No need, she said. We will leave ourselves. — You will not leave, the first answered. Until you believe. They moved forward. Not running, not shouting calmly, confidently, like those who know they are right. — Back, Spark warned. — Do not be afraid, the first said. We will not hurt you. We will just share happiness. — Happiness is not passed on by force, Cheddar said. — It is passed on, the second answered. Liking Cheddar taught us. They were getting closer. Spark drew her blaster. — I said back. — You will not shoot, the first said calmly. There are millions of us. You cannot shoot them all. — I am not going to, Spark answered. I am only going to defend. The first fanatic took a step. Spark fired into the air, above their heads. The burst went with a deafening crack, making the people on the square turn around.

The fanatics froze. — You are shooting at believers, the first asked, and something new appeared in his voice, not anger, but interest. — I am shooting at those who attack, Spark answered. — We are not attacking. We are saving your souls. — Our souls are fine. Thank you for your concern. The first took another step. Spark aimed at his leg. — The next will be accurate, she warned. — You would not dare, the first said, but his voice trembled. — Try it.

They stood face to face, five fanatics and the team of Cheese Eaters. A crowd was gathering around. People watched, whispered, but no one intervened. — What is happening here, a voice came from the crowd. The same robot preacher came out of it. He looked at the fanatics, then at the team. — They are heretics, the first said. They do not believe. — They do not believe, the robot repeated. — They laugh at our shrines. They wanted to clean the statue. — Clean, the robot looked at Gluk. That one. — That one, Gluk nodded.

The preacher paused. — Let them go, he said finally. — But they. — I said let them go.

The fanatics reluctantly parted. The first threw an angry glance at the team. — You will regret this, he whispered. — Perhaps, Cheddar answered. But not today.

They moved on. The preacher walked beside them. — Why did you come, he asked. — To understand, Cheddar answered. Who stands behind your god. — Our god is an algorithm, the robot said. You already know. — We know that he was created by someone. And this someone, perhaps, does not know what his creation has turned into. — And if he knows, the robot asked. — Then we will talk to him. — And if he does not want to. — He will, Gluk said. Because cleanliness does not tolerate secrets.

The robot looked at him for a long time. — You are strange, he said. But maybe you are right. — In what, Cheddar asked. — In that our happiness is not quite real. He stopped, looked back at the crowd, which was already smiling again as if nothing had happened. — I have felt it for a long time. But faith is stronger than feelings. — Faith should be stronger, Gluk said. But it should not replace truth. — Truth, the robot repeated. And what is truth. — Truth is when everything is in its place, Gluk answered. When it is clean. — And you really believe in cleanliness. — I live in it, Gluk simply said.

The robot looked at him again. — I will show you where the server room is, he said. But be careful. There are those who will not want you to find it. — Thank you, Cheddar said. — You are welcome, the robot answered. I I just want to know the truth. Just like you. He left, dissolving into the crowd of identically smiling people.

They reached the temple by noon. The building was huge, glass, shining, with a holographic cheese man on the roof. A queue stood at the entrance, thousands of people waiting to enter and touch the shrine. — How can they be so patient, Gadget asked. — The algorithm taught them to wait, Shadow answered. Patience is also a like. Deferred, but a like. — And what if they do not get it, Gluk asked. — They will keep waiting. It seems to them that the longer you wait, the greater the reward. — That is cruel, Gluk said. — It is efficient, Cheddar answered. The algorithm does not know cruelty. He only knows the result.

They bypassed the queue and headed for the service entrance. It was inconspicuous, without signs, without holograms. Only a gray door and a plate: STAFF ONLY. — Shall we hack it, Spark asked. — No need, Gluk said. First we clean. He rolled up to the door and ran his brush over the sensor. It lit up blue. — Cleanliness is the key, he said when the door clicked open. — You have already said that, Spark smirked. — And I will say it again, Gluk answered. Because it is true.

They went inside. Behind the door lay a long corridor leading down. The walls were concrete, the floor metallic. There were no holograms here, no smiling people. Only silence and the smell of ozone. — The server room is somewhere here, Shadow said, looking at the tablet. Deep underground. — Then let us go, Cheddar said.

They moved down the corridor. Gluk rolled ahead, and his brush occasionally touched the walls. — Dusty, he noted. Very dusty. — That is sacred dust, Spark smirked. — Dirt cannot be sacred, Gluk said firmly. I have already said that. — And I agree with you, Spark answered. But they think differently here. — Then they are mistaken. — Perhaps.