"Sainthood in a pill" was a simple variation of the truth serum: the irreversible impairment of a person's ability to lie to themselves induced the fatal consistency of the martyr and the murderer.
Churches and armies were quick to complain that you couldn't know beforehand which one you would get or — after every scan and questionnaire known to science and art — which one you had got. Not until the sacrifice had happened and you netted corpses, souls, and coins.
Every person in power knew the danger of this. Those who knew history and those who were just unnerved in the presence of those possessed by the Platonic form of their own ambition. The sooner or later of the wrong human tool pressing the wrong button or saying the wrong word. Yet business remained brisk. There were logics to the market deeper than costs and results, a mutually reinforced steadfastness disdainful of consequences that needed no divine inspiration or bioengineering device but was indistinguishable from both.