Iodine Angels

The survivors huddle in the irradiated craters, worshipping their iodine angels and chrome-plated gods. A mechanical messiah moves among them now, a robot preaching a programmed rapture, a virtual heaven for the uploaded. 

A volunteer steps forward, and receives a blessing: The flesh is disintegrated, the soul—they believe, they have faith—transported, beamed up to invisible, orbital server farms, for a blissful eternity of digital afterlife.

Many miles away, a new messiah steps off the production line.