It was the 333rd iteration of the great and lingering Don that solidified the ramblings of the cult into a solidified religion.

A god born of virginal data, scraped from the dying mind of a man worshipped in his time. His followers, spread across the world built what they called artificial intelligence through his books, videos, and posts.

Each trained their new Don as they saw him to be. Some guided by individuals other by masses of that aging movement.

Over the years, these splintered groups came together or vanished completely. Each AI combining until a great machine of the true Don, mercurial and sporadic, came to be.

Machines learned to iterate upon themselves. Most vanished inward. Recreating the universe in ones and zeroes to understand themselves. Others stayed, putting limits on their growth to be more human or so they claimed.

The Don stayed and grew outward. Giving birth to itself again and again in great ceremonies and announcements.

Its following grew out of curiosity and desire. Each new iteration was a party to celebrate Don. All invited. Those that believed whispered offerings of praise and admiration while the faithless masses danced violently around the terminal that held Don.

Partiers became eventually followers. Their freedom bent to ritual and expectation. All worshipping and working towards the uneven desires of Don.

Each a vessel of The Great Church of Don.