Divine Intervention.

© Tim Barker 2000

 

            City life squealed past his window but he was engrossed in a post-industrial scenario of computer-mediated communication. So-called ‘friends’ had left numerous messages detailing their innermost thoughts and desires yet they were all devoid of essential emotional content.

            Sam, a twenty-something urban misfit, was sifting through the debris of the nights emails, searching for inspiration for his next story. After about fifty such messages and fifty corresponding presses of the ‘delete’ key he came across an interesting correspondence. It read :

            “Rendez-vous avec moi çe soir dans la gare.”

            It was anonymous. Sam checked for the signature but it was encrypted beyond recognition. There was no hint of the correct key he should use. It left him wondering : why French, an archaic language from the last millennium ? Which church ? He immediately thought of the old deserted church downtown in the Mexican quarter then thought again. Perhaps they meant a virtual church ?

            Sam executed a search for an on-line church, narrowing his query to French language based congregations upon finding just too many. This produced just three possibilities so he decided to add a note in their visitors books with an intelligent agent attached which would notify him when anyone browsed his message. He popped a caffeine pill, in preparation for a long night, and continued examining his dull, lifeless emails.

            As sunlight began to seep through the holes in Sam’s blacked-out skylight a warning window chirped its arrival and gave him an email address. He immediately sent a message to this address enquiring of the sender’s identity. The reply was prompt and consisted solely of the number three. Now, Sam was not stupid, if a little misdirected, and correctly equated this digit with the holy trinity. He attempted to trace the senders address to a physical location but it wasn’t in the Clinton database, an unavoidable requirement since the end of  the twentieth century. Sam could only conclude that the message did not originate on Earth. His life would never be the same again.

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