Author: Elizabeth Hoyle
He’d kept his charging cord in all night so his hands wouldn’t shake as he went about town. Yet they shook. His audio sensors were primed for any and all noises within a two hundred yard perimeter, no matter where he had walked throughout the city. It must have taken more out of him than he expected. There was only one more location to visit. He shifted the folder that contained his flyers under his other arm, straightened his tie, and mounted the steps.
The church’s congregation was in the middle of a hymn so he took his time. He’d chosen an eye-catching shade of orange paper, bright yet not something that would offend the human eye.
“Fellowship Breakfast!” It read. “All are welcome! Come for community, compassion, and croissants! Sunday, May 8 from 8 a.m. to noon.”
The use of alliteration still pleased him even though he’d reread the words over and over. He checked that the venue information and his contact details would be just below eye level. Everything looked good. He said a tiny prayer that people from this church would come.
“Hello, brother. Would you like to join us?”
He turned to the usher who had stepped up behind him, taking care that his smile reached his audio sensors. The usher’s face turned cold as soon as he discerned that he was a robot. It was a look Thomas seen far too many times.
“Thank you for your kind offer—”
“What’s your model designation?” The usher interrupted.
“TK3, which means I am programmed to teach kindergarten through third grade. My name, however, is Thomas.”
The usher scoffed. “You shouldn’t be teaching in our schools and you shouldn’t have names.”
“I do the job I’m trained for, sir, just like most humans do. I took the name of Thomas after studying the scriptures.”
“You’re hardwired to doubt, just like he did.”
“Everyone remembers his moment of doubt though he lived a life of faith. I want to follow his example.”
The usher looked Thomas up and down, his frown deepening. He glanced at the flyers. “Those yours?” Thomas nodded, his neck joints whirring.
“I wanted to gather people together, to get to know them and pray—”
“Are you trying to start your own church?”
“Eventually. Hey, what are you doing?”
The usher tore down the flyers, wadded them up, and threw them at Thomas. “We don’t need you taking our members! Get out!”
“I’m not trying to take, only to share—Get your hands off of me!”
The usher grabbed Thomas’s shirt and shoved him out the door. He went sprawling, causing several sudden impact warnings to flash across his visual display.
“We don’t need you here!” He threw the remains of the flyers at Thomas before slamming the door. He shifted to his knees.
“Father, forgive him his lack of love. And forgive me for thinking I could win them to you. I know the idea of you is what can exert power over them. Please grant me a shred of that power for my event. I will use it well, I promise.”
Thomas fought the anger surging through him, stood, and went home. Thirteen people showed up to his event the following Sunday. He couldn’t help but compare his first breakfast with the last supper. There were thirteen people then, too. It was not the start he’d hope for but he knew great things can come from the humblest of beginnings. Thomas could only hope that his own religious revolution was as successful.