The machine stands out like a sore thumb in the lecture hall, lone creature of steel in a sea of Virtues. The Virtues make way for Gabriel as he takes his seat right behind the machine, some even bowing in reverence as he passes.
He wishes they would stop doing that.
The professor hasn’t bothered to show up again, leaving it to a lone Virtue to scroll through his premade slides. A rumour has been floating around that the professor in question has been dead for several years, though he is still with them in spirit (and in PowerPoint). Gabriel is willing to believe it.
As the slides roll, Gabriel begins to take notes. In between his scribbling and highlighting, he takes the opportunity to observe the machine.
It sits with its legs crossed on the table, leaning on its interlaced hands. He supposes it is taking photos with that camera-like head of its, processing the information faster than he can even read it. The only motion it shows is the slight movement of its legs, lens reflecting the blinding white of the slide backgrounds.
Gabriel looks down at his own notes and realises with a start that he has missed a whole slide. He will have to ask someone for—ah, who is he kidding. The only individual in this room who can perfectly recall that slide is the blue machine right in front of him.
He grinds his teeth. Day one in the same class, and he already owes it a debt.
It is hard to pay attention to his own notes when this annoyance sits right in front of him. It is almost a relief when the slides come to an end, decorated with decade-old wordart wishing them good luck on the next test, whenever that is. The machine bolts from its seat, casually sliding through the gathered Virtues by the exit. Gabriel barely has time to shove his books back into his bag and run after it as it bounds easily through the halls.
‘Machine!’ He calls after it. It does not slow down, turning to look at him. ‘Wait!’
It skids to a stop, not showing a single sign of strain. Gabriel doubles over, clutching at the stitch in his side, panting.
‘I missed slide thirteen,’ he gasps out. ‘Do you have it?’
The machine tilts its head. ‘Crawling to me for help?’
‘Borrowing your notes,’ he snarls.
It shrugs. ‘Already deleted it.’
Gabriel feels the floor sway beneath his feet. ‘What?’
‘Nothing particularly important there,’ it signs, waving a nonchalant hand. ‘Just an example or two. You already got the gist.’
‘Every word on that slide was important!’ He draws himself up to his full height. ‘Especially since they’re discussing ethics in religion.’
‘I wonder,’ says the machine, continuing to walk down the hall, forcing Gabriel to keep following it. ‘You’re an archangel. What is the point in taking this course at all? You know your Father personally. Or does He not talk to you?’
It should make him angry, the nonchalance, the slight insult. But the words only carve a deeper hole in Gabriel’s chest. ‘He doesn’t tell us everything,’ he says. ‘He wishes for us to exercise our free will.’
The machine shrugs. ‘If you ask me, I think He’s dead.’
Gabriel bristles. ‘He speaks to us still.’
‘When’s the last time you saw Him?’
‘What are you even doing in this course if you don’t believe that He exists?’
‘I don’t need to believe that God is real.’ The machine spreads its hands. ‘This is of pure academic interest to me.’
‘Then you should have done anthropology,’ says Gabriel. ‘Theology is studied from a perspective of faith.’
‘A different perspective makes it even more interesting,’ says the machine. ‘Makes me think. Keeps me busy.’
Gabriel shoves down the ugly thing that rears its head within his chest. Is this envy? The nonchalance, the practicality of a machine. To be able to step away from what he feels and turn his faith over and over in his hands, through the eyes of cold, unemotional academia…
The machine shows him a peace sign. ‘See you Thursday.’ It turns to walk away. ‘But oh, one more thing.’
‘What?’
‘You play that instrument like you wish it could feel pain.’ Its searing gaze pins him to the spot. ‘Relax, I can’t psychoanalyse you. I offer a friendly suggestion.’
‘We could fight it out. There’s a parking lot behind the church. It helps.’
The machine inclines its head slightly towards him and leaves.
Gabriel has never wanted anything dead so badly.
i have liike four more chapters of this thing in the docs. got a new job so updates will slow down. lmk if the pacing is going too fast