Weighing the Pros and Cons of 7 Fictional Cults & Secret Societies

Inferne Cutis, A Perfect Machine, by Brett Savory
The sales pitch: Inferne Cutis has the pretentious Latin name and the shrouded history that most secret societies can claim, but it’s more of a cult than anything else. The Hunters and Runners are propelled out into the cold each night, because if they don’t go, they believe a divine presence will reach down and pluck the people they care about most out of existence.
Pros: If ever you’ve wanted to know your place in the universe, this is the cult for you: their god is real, the the Runners really are immune to bullets. Every night, you’re part of a centuries-old tradition where you get to blow off steam by firing a few rounds, (mostly) consequence free. For Runners, there’s clearly some kind of divine plan underway, one that makes them fuse with bullets when shot and leads them on a quest to full-metal “ascension,” and whatever lies beyond. What further sets Inferne Cutis apart is there’s no need for a coverup, because whatever cosmic abomination set up everything in motion also enforces a perception filter that causes anyone who stumbles upon the cult to immediately forget them 10 minutes later.
Cons: No one really understands why these folks are immune to bullets, or what their god truly wants. Also, in case you believed “Cosmic abomination” was an exaggeration, it does literally pluck people out of existence, vanishing them forever. It’s also not clear what this divine thing hopes to achieve by forcing people to run through the city every night. Runners also have gotten the short end of the stick, between being forced to run every night, no matter the conditions, and slowly watching their bodies turn into metal and scar tissue in the hopes of reaching an end point they don’t even understand. Not a cult for those with delicate constitutions, to be sure.

The Michael Christopher Group, Universal Harvester, by John Darnielle
The sales pitch: The most horrifying villains in fiction are the ones who make appearances rarely, but whose impact is felt throughout the book (and you better believe they make their brief moments in the spotlight matter). This perfectly describes the Michael Christopher Group in Universal Harvester. They’re a cult of wandering ascetics whose members abruptly leave their lives completely for an existence of mortification and the open road, following the charismatic vagrant who leads them. While the group gets little page time, and doesn’t do much to be actively menacing, the actions they take set off a chain of events that include broken homes, psychologically damaging families, and lead one person to film and compile disturbing scenes in a barn, then splice the footage into videotapes at the protagonists’ video store.
Pros: You get to see a lot of the country, and you definitely won’t want for friends. Also, it’s a simpler life, if anything. Not many possessions, a fairly lean diet, and you get to go from town to town spreading your religious convictions and helping people better understand god. It’s not easy, but it makes a kind of sense. Also, the long Bible discussions usually concretely answer a lot of questions about the divine.
Cons: The reason it’s so simple is that there’s not a lot to it other than a life of vagrancy. And, well, if your family life is worth leaving, then there’s that. But if vanishing without a trace and leaving those you love behind without warning sounds less than ideal,this is probably not the organization for you. Apart from the disappearing without a trace, Universal Harvester makes it clear that the impact the Michael Christopher Group has on those the members leave behind is nothing less than devastating.

The Solstice Society, The Supernatural Enhancements, by Edgar Cantero
The sales pitch: Every winter solstice, a group formerly led by the late Ambrose Wells descends upon a haunted mansion to undergo a bizarre ritual involving a mysterious machine that appears to be tapped into a greater function of the universe, predicting various catastrophes, and identifying key figures in them, all over the world. We can’t give too much of the how and why away, because this forms the focus of Cantero’s screwball gothic satire, but what we can say is that it’s of the utmost importance this continues to happen on schedule.
Pros: Once a year, you get to drink expensive liquor and hang out with your quirky group of friends in a big, swanky haunted mansion. You all get to use a mad scientist’s machine to tap into universe-shattering events and unusual powers. The rest of the year, you adventure to far-off places, where you get to track down bizarre phenomena like you’re part of a fancier X-Files division with more funding. Then, at the end of the year? Gambling, more drinking with friends, and more mad science. It’s a pretty neat setup.
Cons: The problems are relatively minimal within the Solstice Society, but you’re still risking life and limb for an occult-themed winter holiday party. Furthermore, “viewing the secret information of the universe” comes with a pretty high cost, since some people are willing to murder and torture for the secret information of the universe. Still, if being part of the society makes you a target, the society itself seems like a pretty decent deal.

The Board of Directors/The List, The List of 7, by Mark Frost
The sales pitch: In the Twin Peaks co-creator’s Victorian adventure novel, seven mysterious individuals attempt to seize control of the world with a dastardly plan involving mad science and the occult. Standing against them are a stage actress unwittingly drawn into the scheme, an eccentric secret agent, and a young doctor named Arthur Conan Doyle. Frost manages to bring real menace to his sinister cabal of occultists, who are always one step ahead of the heroes and whose far-reaching conspiracy seems to contain most of their friends and close associates. Frost does such a good job with his towering and twisted antagonists, it’s hard to remember they’re only human after all.
Pros: A high station in the world, a plan so diabolical it takes a near-superhero to stop it, and partial power over the government of England are all well and good. It’s like the deal most cults offer, but legit.
Cons: If you’re not one of the seven people on the list, you’re pretty much guaranteed to be a henchperson. Which means a high possibility of zombification, death at the hands of Doyle and Sparks, or death at the hands of your own employers. The organization’s head also might be a murderous sociopath who becomes the inspiration for Moriarty in Sherlock Holmes, and Doyle had to tone him down for publication. So even as one of the Seven, you’re not particularly safe if your leader finds you expendable.

The Incrementalists, The Incrementalists by Steven Brust and Skyler White
The sales pitch: A centuries old society that styles themselves “a slower, nicer Mafia” and aims to change the world “a little at a time,” the Incrementalists are 200 quasi-immortal individuals who can tap into a collective subconscious known as “The Garden” and attempt to use subtle memory manipulation to change the lives of others. While these small manipulations don’t get very far on their own, the little actions usually add up to something much bigger and more dramatic over time, hopefully changing the world in ways that make things better for all of us. Of course, being around for centuries has caused them no amount of disagreement, but at least they’re normally able to hash out disagreements in a friendly manner, rather than open warfare.
Pros: Okay, you know those armchair debates everyone has around the dinner table at a restaurant over politics and religion and celebrities and stuff? Imagine if one of those actually changed the world. Now imagine a seat at that table comes with immortality and a way to make people’s lives nicer, or at least fix a few things in them. You also have a hand in the creation of modern technology and the general betterment of society..
Cons: Okay, imagine those debates everyone has around the dinner table at a restaurant actually changed things in the world. While the Incrementalists go at things the slow way, part of the reason they do so is so they don’t wind up making massive mistakes. Which, humanity being a messy thing to herd around, they occasionally do anyway. Also, the “immortality” part involves your consciousness being transformed into a burning piece of wood, then rammed into the forehead of your (consenting) intended host. Followed by a psychic battle to see if your consciousness or the host’s remains in the body. It also means being friends with the same group of people for centuries, which can get pretty contentious, especially when you all have world-changing psychic powers.

The Vespers, Three Days to Never by Tim Powers
The sales pitch: The Vespers are one of several sects in Tim Powers’ novel of weird science and spiritualism vying for control of a time machine built by Albert Einstein and Charlie Chaplin. A society that stretches back to a group of 12th-century heretics, the Vespers use a combination of psychic powers, ancient holy relics, and political manipulation to move their plans forward. They’re also not above putting out hits on people, or, for that matter, manipulating other time travelers into doing their shadowy bidding. In their quest to control time itself, no cost is too high.
Pros: The Vespers have outlasted the Catholic church’s attempts to destroy them, and they’ve been around long enough to accrue major money and power in the process. There’s also the fact that they have the Holy Grail on hand, and are trying to use it to alter the past. And believe us when we say, everyone has plans for time travel.
Cons: They supported the Nazis. Full stop. The Vespers say they did it for, “financial reasons, not political ones,” but you can’t support Nazis and be apolitical. It doesn’t work like that. On top of which, they’re willing to employ temporal manipulation, child abduction, murder, and some really twisted spiritual methods to safeguard their power. No one should be okay with that.

The Children of the Next Level, Agents of Dreamland by Caitlin R. Kiernan
The sales pitch: The Children kind of win the sweepstakes for creepiest cult ever. They’re housed in a dilapidated desert sanctuary like the rejects from Lord of Illusion, their leader, Standish, talks almost entirely in bizarre prophecy and claims he was given knowledge of the future in an ancient black book that speaks of terrifying mountains and non-Euclidean cities. Then there’s the TV from 1975 that speaks to Standish and the Children through the static, whispering names and prophecies. And that’s even before Kiernan introduces the alien fungus the Children voluntarily infect themselves with, which changes its hosts into faceless carriers of something horrifying.
Pros: Well…they’re…right? Nothing in Standish’s book of prophecy is exactly false, though it’s clear he doesn’t understand the implications of what he’s doing. There’s also the question of whether or not human beings have a destiny squared away: Standish and his followers absolutely do. It’s terrifying, but knowing with absolute certainty you will change the world is comforting, if you want to grasp for whatever straws you can.
Cons: Well, beyond the obvious drawback that is being infected with a fungus brought to Earth by the Elder Gods (and subjected to subsequent, unimaginable body horror) there are the constant name-checks to Heaven’s Gate the cult keeps making, which would throw up massive red flags if there weren’t enough of them flapping in the breeze already. Their only entertainment being a creepy 1970s-era TV that only plays static and odd whispers is also another huge downside. (We know the end is coming; can’t we at least have Netflix?) The worst drawback, however, would be that the Children are subjected to Standish’s ill-conceived folk songs all throughout their TV watching sessions and fungal transformations, songs in which he glorifies other cult leaders who came before him. Amateur folk music is just…beyond the pale.
What secret society would you sign up for?