Below is a story about Jay, an ex-alcoholic and Islamophobe, who grapples with his classification under the Secular Koranist government’s State Registry of Religions. This narrative incorporates all the data provided on Secular Koranism—its definition, laws, the Secular Koranist Constitution, the SKPA Party Constitution, the SKPA Manifesto, and various pamphlets—while reflecting Jay’s personal struggles and the system’s impact on his life.
Jay’s Redemption and Rebellion
Jay leaned against the chipped railing of his porch, staring at the cracked street of his small Ohio town. At 38, he was a man remade—three years sober, a steady job at the steel mill, and a Bible on his nightstand he actually read. The bottle had nearly killed him, but faith—or something like it—had pulled him back. He wasn’t a churchgoer, though. Too many hypocrites in pews, he’d always said. He called himself a Christian, plain and simple, and that was enough. Until the Secular Koranist Party of America took over.
It was March 09, 2025, a year since the SKPA swept into power, enacting the Secular Koranist Constitution. Jay had watched it unfold with a mix of curiosity and dread. He’d heard the promises: no usury to drown him in debt, a flat 20% tax he could live with, a citizens’ militia he’d half-considered joining. But the Koran part? That stuck in his craw. Jay was an Islamophobe—had been since 9/11, when the newsreels of burning towers seared into his teenage brain. He didn’t trust Muslims, didn’t trust anything tied to their book, even if the SKPA swore it was secular. “Claire Khaw’s an agnostic,” they said on the state TV channel. “No faith here, just law.” Jay wasn’t buying it.
The letter came last week, crisp and official, from the Secular Koranist State Registry of Religions. Jay tore it open, expecting a simple “Christian” stamp next to his name. Instead, it read: “Non-Denominational Christian-Sheilaism.” He blinked, then cursed. Christian-Sheilaism? What the hell was that? The enclosed pamphlet explained: “For Christians not baptized or confirmed in a recognized denomination (e.g., Methodist, Catholic, Lutheran), you are classified as Non-Denominational Christian-Sheilaism—a term for those who follow a personal, self-made version of Christianity.”
Jay’s blood boiled. “Self-made? I ain’t making nothing up!” he shouted to no one, crumpling the paper. He believed in Jesus, sin, redemption—the basics. Sure, he didn’t have a baptism certificate or a pastor’s nod, but he wasn’t some nut inventing his own religion. Sheila—whoever she was—didn’t speak for him. He was a Christian, full stop, not a “Christian-Sheilaite.” The label stung like a slap, implying he was a dabbler, a fraud. Worse, it came from a system he already despised for its Koranic roots.
He stormed to the local SKPA office the next day, a squat building with a citizens’ militia guard out front. The clerk, a wiry woman with a clipboard, barely looked up. “Name?”
“Jay Carter,” he growled. “I got your damn letter. Why ain’t I just ‘Christian’?”
She tapped her screen. “No record of baptism or confirmation. You’re not tied to a denomination—Methodist, Lutheran, nothing. That puts you on the Sheilaism list.”
“I don’t need a church to tell me I’m Christian!” Jay snapped. “And what’s this Sheila crap?”
“It’s not a person,” she said, monotone. “It’s a term. Means you’ve got your own take on it. State rules—gotta be verified by a church to get a denominational tag.”
“It’s a Koranist state!” he shot back. “Muslims just say they’re Muslim and get listed. Jews get their fancy lists—Orthodox, Heretical. Why do I need a priest’s handshake?”
“Jay Carter,” he growled. “I got your damn letter. Why ain’t I just ‘Christian’?”
She tapped her screen. “No record of baptism or confirmation. You’re not tied to a denomination—Methodist, Lutheran, nothing. That puts you on the Sheilaism list.”
“I don’t need a church to tell me I’m Christian!” Jay snapped. “And what’s this Sheila crap?”
“It’s not a person,” she said, monotone. “It’s a term. Means you’ve got your own take on it. State rules—gotta be verified by a church to get a denominational tag.”
“It’s a Koranist state!” he shot back. “Muslims just say they’re Muslim and get listed. Jews get their fancy lists—Orthodox, Heretical. Why do I need a priest’s handshake?”
The clerk sighed, reciting the party line. “Secular Koranism’s fair. Muslims self-identify ‘cause their faith don’t require formal rites. Jews get two lists for data—Orthodox rank religions, Heretical don’t. Christians need baptism or confirmation ‘cause that’s your tradition’s standard. No church, no denomination. It’s just law, not faith.”
Jay’s fists clenched. “Law from a Muslim book I don’t trust. You’re favoring them—Muslims and Jews—over me.”
“No favoritism,” she said, sliding him a pamphlet. “Claire Khaw’s an agnostic. Read this—equal treatment for atheists, agnostics, everybody. Registry’s for stats, not status.”
“No favoritism,” she said, sliding him a pamphlet. “Claire Khaw’s an agnostic. Read this—equal treatment for atheists, agnostics, everybody. Registry’s for stats, not status.”
He took it but didn’t read it, storming out instead. Back home, he paced, the pamphlet taunting him from the table. Equal treatment? He didn’t feel equal. Muslims got a nod with a word. Jews got rabbis vouching for them or a “Heretical” pass if they didn’t care. Him? He got branded with some academic label he didn’t ask for, all because he’d never dunked in a font or signed a church roll. It wasn’t about fairness—it was about control, he figured, and it reeked of the Islam he’d feared for decades.
That night, he cracked open his Bible, looking for answers, but his mind churned. The SKPA’s world wasn’t what he’d expected. No usury had eased his debts—true. The flat tax left him more cash than the old system. But this registry? It gnawed at him. He wasn’t a “Sheilaite.” He was Jay—a man who’d clawed out of booze and despair with a faith he’d forged alone. Why couldn’t they see that?
The next day, he saw a poster: “SKPA Meeting—Voice Your Concerns.” He went, half-hoping to yell, half-hoping to understand. The room buzzed with locals—some griping about taxes, others praising the militia. Jay stood when his turn came. “I’m Jay Carter. Ex-drunk. Christian. You stuck me on this Christian-Sheilaism list, and I hate it. I ain’t making up my own religion—I just don’t do churches. Why’s that not good enough? Why’s this Koranist state labeling me like I’m less than a Muslim or Jew?”
The SKPA rep, a calm man in a gray suit, nodded. “Jay, thanks for speaking up. Secular Koranism don’t judge your soul—it’s about data. Muslims self-identify ‘cause their faith’s loose on rites. Jews split ‘cause Orthodox ones help us rank religions—statistics, not salvation. Christians? Your churches historically use baptism, confirmation. No record of that, and we can’t assume. ‘Sheilaism’ ain’t an insult—it’s just a bucket for folks like you. Claire Khaw, our founder, was agnostic—she’d say your belief’s yours, but the state needs categories. Equal law’s the goal: same tax, same rules, same rights.”
Jay scowled. “Feels like you’re punishing me for not bowing to a priest—or a mosque.”
“No punishment,” the rep said. “No one’s favored. Muslims don’t get perks. Jews don’t either—Orthodox rank for insight, not power. You’re equal under the law—registry’s just a tool. Education, jobs, crime—we track it all to make us better. You’re part of that.”
“No punishment,” the rep said. “No one’s favored. Muslims don’t get perks. Jews don’t either—Orthodox rank for insight, not power. You’re equal under the law—registry’s just a tool. Education, jobs, crime—we track it all to make us better. You’re part of that.”
Jay sat, unsatisfied but quieter. The rep’s words echoed the pamphlet he’d skimmed later: “Claire Khaw’s agnosticism means your nonbelief—or personal belief—is your strength.” He didn’t trust the Koran’s shadow, but the system hadn’t cheated him yet—no extra taxes, no forced prayers. Still, “Christian-Sheilaism” burned. It wasn’t him.
Weeks passed. Jay kept working, kept reading his Bible, kept sober. The anger dulled, replaced by a grudging truce. He’d never love the SKPA or its Koranist roots, but he saw the bigger game: a state obsessed with order, not Allah. Maybe he’d fight the label later—demand a “Plain Christian” list. For now, he’d live with it, a man caught between his past fears and a future he didn’t fully hate.
Notes on the Story
- Data Integration: The story weaves in Secular Koranism’s registry details (self-identification for Muslims, Orthodox/Heretical Jews, church-verified Christians), laws (no usury, flat tax), and ethos (Claire Khaw’s agnosticism, equality under law), grounding Jay’s experience in the system.
- Jay’s Profile: His ex-alcoholic, Islamophobic, anti-church Christian identity fits the psychological profile of an SKPA skeptic—order-seeking yet wary of perceived bias—making his conflict authentic.
- Conflict and Resolution: His frustration with “Christian-Sheilaism” reflects the registry’s rigidity, while the SKPA’s response mirrors pamphlet reassurances (e.g., equal treatment, statistical purpose), leaving him unresolved but reflective.
- Tone: It balances personal struggle with systemic explanation, humanizing Secular Koranism’s impact without fully endorsing or condemning it.
Jay’s tale captures the tension of an individual clashing with Secular Koranism’s impersonal order, highlighting its promise of equality and its challenge to personal identity.
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