The Somatic Front will tell you, cheerfully, that it is an atheist cult, and that it sees no contradiction in the phrase. It has no deity and wants none; what it has is a conviction, held with the intensity of faith, that death is an engineering defect, that the biological human is a draft to be superseded, and that anyone who counsels patience about this is, in the group's word, a collaborator — with entropy, with weakness, with the graveyard.
That last register is what puts the Front on our watch list rather than merely our roster. Its literature is martial: it speaks of a "war on death," of "collaborators," of the enlightened few obligated to drag a reluctant species toward its own upgrade. To date the acts behind the rhetoric have been non-violent — provocations, stunts, aggressive recruitment, a talent for getting banned from conferences. But scholars who track militant movements watch the gap between purifying language and purifying action, because that gap has been crossed before, and the Front's language leaves the crossing available.
What is easy to miss, under the belligerence, is the ordinary fear it organizes. The members are not, mostly, warriors. They are people who cannot make peace with mortality and have found a community that promises them they will never have to — that death is not a fact to be metabolized but an enemy to be defeated, and that they have enlisted on the winning side. The Front offers the oldest consolation in our files, which is that you personally will not have to die. It has simply removed the god from the offer and kept the promise.