HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, July 17, 2025 – When I was eight years old, my grandmother took my sister and I to the movies one hot summer afternoon. We’d planned on seeing the latest Disney flick, but when we got to the theater, we found out that it was no longer playing. The sweltering hour-long bus ride from the suburbs had put my grandmother in no mood for an immediate return trip, and lured by the coolness wafting from the ticket booth window, she decided that what was on the screen didn’t matter: She needed to be in that air-conditioned theater. And so, she purchased one adult and two child tickets for whatever was playing that day, and what was playing that day was The Omega Man.

The Omega Man is a post-apocalyptic horror film starring Charlton Heston. Because it was made for adults, most of the movie was pretty much lost on me, though some scenes stay with me to this day. Granted, what frightened me as a child no longer frightens me as an adult, but what caught my interest then still draws me now, and what caught my interest was the solo life of the main character.

Far from being horrified by his aloneness, I was fascinated by it. I wanted to live alone in a big house like him and speed through deserted streets in a cool car like him. I wanted to shop in deserted stores like him and wander through deserted buildings like him. I’m not sure this was the response that the screenwriters had hoped to elicit from the audience, but it’s what they got from me. That’s what I took from the movie as a kid, that, and the certain knowledge that if your afro suddenly turns white, you’re doomed.

I’ve since rewatched The Omega Man, this time as an adult. I’ve also watched The Last Man on Earth, starring Vincent Price, and I Am Legend, starring Will Smith. All these movies are based on the same novel, and all feature a strong but reluctantly solo male character whose downfall starts when he allows a female into his safe space (plot sound familiar? lol ;D). To me, all the movies kind of fizzle out as soon as the female arrives and the focus shifts from the male’s ingenious survival techniques to the male throwing all caution to the wind for the sake of “gettin’ some”.

The allure of living alone in a deserted city remains as strong for me today as it did years ago. At the start of the so-called pandemic in early 2020, I was the one wandering the deserted streets at all hours and riding around in empty buses. I was the one who didn’t want the lockdowns to end if it meant people continued to cower in their houses and work and study from home. I was the one who wanted the whole store to myself—the whole city to myself—and for a few fleeting moments it seemed like I did.

I mention the Omega movies because I had a curious daydream today that may or may not have been inspired by them. In my daydream, I was the only person living in my part of the city. The reason I was the only one living there is because I was the only one who was born-again. Everyone else had left or died or had otherwise been removed. But far from feeling lonely, I reveled in my aloneness: I’d waited a long time to have this place to myself.

I was aware that there were other born-again believers in other parts of the city. We’d spy each other in the distance on occasion and wave in greeting, but we felt no pressing need to meet up. We were happy to be in our own and God’s company. It was enough for us to know that there were other born-again believers out there as far-flung neighbors and that we could meet up at any time if we wanted to. We also knew that we had nothing to fear from each other because we were God-approved and God-affirmed. We wouldn’t be there if we weren’t.

And so, in my daydream, I lived a life of ease and comfort, never locking my doors, never wary of going out after dark, never worrying about anyone stealing my bike or any of my possessions. I went to stores that stocked all my favorite things, and I never had to pay for them. All the services required for modern life, like clean running water and electricity, continued as before, only better. I lacked for nothing, and everything ran smoothly and seamlessly. But how was this possible with only a handful of people living in the city?

Enter AI. An army of bots had been programmed to provide for my and my neighbours’ every need. From the planting of seeds to the harvesting, processing, delivery, and even display of the final products, everything was done by robots that were directed and monitored by AI. Self-driving buses carted me around on my daily adventures unless I wanted to drive one of the countless abandoned cool cars at my disposal. Self-driving garbage trucks picked up my garbage at my command. If I fancied a pizza, bots would prepare it for me and deliver it piping hot, all within a half hour (and still free!).

As I delved deeper and deeper into my daydream, it occurred to me that what I was seeing was a high-tech version of Heaven that was super-imposed on my current surroundings. It was an idealized here and now that had some elements of the post-apocalyptic movies I’d seen, but with all the negative aspects removed. Instead of mutants and zombies, born-again believers were my neighbors. Instead of overgrown streets and crumbling buildings, tidiness and order ruled the day. Instead of having to forage for leftovers in dead people’s fridges, I was offered fresh produce in pristine stores.

But then I thought: What’s the point of having Heaven on Earth if I can have Heaven in Heaven? I might finally have good neighbors if they’re all born-again, but bugs and dogs can bite me here, and I still generate waste and need a bath. For all its wonders and conveniences, the AI-enabled city I’d envisioned falls far short of the supernatural perfection that awaits us in Heaven. Earth can never be Heaven, no matter how high the tech, and trying to make it so is a waste of time.

Better to daydream about (and wait for) the Real Thing… and maybe be a little pickier about the movies I watch next time!