For Beginning of the End
++It was hurting again. Flexing the hand, he was able to coax the pain away. "The nerve damage is only slight," the doctors had told him, "God has been good to you. If you'd not had your arm resting as you did, the current would have arced across your heart." In all reality it had been a near-death experience, Chris knew, and his survival this long had earned him some repute among his co-workers. His scars were not from the Tribulations, but from Service to the Lord - his hand was his saving grace.
++The pain now subsiding, Chris returned to his work. At the tips of his scarring he held a simple piece of solder and began to work on technology that would have been considered ancient but four years ago. Soldering iron in the right, he melted the solder deftly, the drop oozing around the circuit board, shining ever so slightly, holding the little microprocessor in it's place. Chris Kierson inspected his work, satisfied it'd work as well as need be.
++Closing up the plastic panel, Chris removed the grounding strap from his wrist and set it aside. This wouldn't do as tribute for the Angels, nor was it intended. Setting down the object on the ground, he flipped a switch. Nothing happened. "Oh." Bounding off, around the table to another shelf, Chris found a battery. With the lighting, he became once again suddenly aware that his left-hand displayed a lightning-bolt like scar from where the electricity had traveled down to his fingers so many years ago, tracing up back behind his thumb, coiling itself around almost to his elbow, where a starburst-scar showed the entry point. His hands wrapping around the small battery, the lighting shifted and the faint scar was no more.
++"I'm such a fool," No one was around to hear him. He slid the battery into it's place, and the device came to life. Once he was satisfied it was working properly, he turned it off and slid it into an inner pocket of his leather jacket and hurried out the door of his little workshop, down the stairs, and out of the building in a flash. It was growing late; he'd stayed past the work-day, but he felt he simply had to finish this project. This was the night, he felt. Walking nonchalantly, the guards paid him no mind. I'm just another devote Christian, working late for the Glory of God, he thought to himself. The deception weighed heavy on him, but his face did not betray that until he was long out the door and all context of the situation would be lost on anyone who bothered to look at him.
++Experienced at this as he was, he was still a little nervous as he passed the guards at the gates of the Inner City. Getting out wasn't hard at all. Getting in was. He checked his ID briefly, ensuring he had it on him, and Chris slipped through from a common, wonderful place to the dregs of society. Just like that - walking only a few meters and the entire scenery changed as the other side of the gates opened up to him. Though they were a bit dirty, his work clothes looked pristine compared to much of what was now around him. The outskirts of the Vatican were near wretched. These people would probably just as well see the Angels die.
++Chris found what he was looking for. A kid - probably in his teens - looking quite bored. Toys hadn't been something most families had brought with them. As he reached into his coveralls, the kid froze. Realizing how it looked - like Chris was about to hold him at gunpoint to be a future sacrifice - he too, paused, before slowly removing the device, and setting it on the ground before the kid, switching it on.
++"What is it?" The kid finally asked as the little thing scurried about, running into things as it's wheels spun wildly, turning this way and that.
++"It's a robot. Sort of. If it hits anything or hears a loud noise, it changes direction." Chris snapped near it, and the robot backed up as if bitten, and then turned and hurried off as fast as it could go - which admittedly wasn't that fast. The boy was fascinated. He looked like he hadn't seen a toy in years - and probably hadn't, let alone something like this.
++Chris retrieved a pair of batteries from his pockets. "If it stops working, replace the one in there with one of these."
++"You mean... it's mine?" The kid was confused, and sounded a rather indignant. "Shouldn't technology be a tribute to the Angels? To God?" He had no reason to believe in the Lord - what had the Creator ever done for him?
++Chris could only think of one answer; a verse he'd learned a while back. It fit rather well, he thought, and gave it in reply as he walked away. He was sure he was misquoting it, but it'd suffice. "We're told, 'Whatever you do to my brothers, you do unto me."
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