Gabriels Mission

Gabriel sat deep in thought, a feather quill in his hand, the memo's
sprawled over his desk. Riffling through the paperwork, he picked up
the sheet marked 'Agenda'. If the hastily scrawled list of requirements
were anything to go by, this was to be his most challenging mission
yet.

The effects of human progression had proved catastrophic to the angelic
economy, subsequently business had been slow over the past few thousand
years. Even his promotion, to the prestigious position of Heavenly
Awakener, had failed to alleviate the monotonous nature of his
employment. Truth was he hadn't seen any real action since his brief
visit to Joan of Arc some centuries earlier, subsequently, he had been
on the verge of resignation when the latest proclamation from the boss,
landed on his desk.

Perplexed, Gabriel returned his attention to the primary function of
his mission. Judging by the criteria of the first request, and no doubt
due to the heavy work load in the prayer answering department, it was
alarmingly apparent the boss had not paid a visit downstairs for some
time. At least, not since they introduced the age of consent.

Gabriel scratched his head in trepidation, clumsily knocking his halo
to the floor with a long bony finger. As if awaiting inspiration from
the spherical mass of light, his gaze followed its path as it rolled
across the office and came to rest by the waste paper basket. The
possibility dawned on him that this might indeed be a sign. Perhaps he
would fair better if he filed the whole mission under trash. 'Lets face
it', he sighed, Where on earth will I to find a consenting virgin in
2004?

To add to his frustrations, fuelling the dilemma further, came a chance
conversation with a colleague during tea break. Michael had, since
1950, worked extensively with the police force as their patron.
Supported by his vast knowledge of earthly law, the tidings he brought
forth were certainly not those of great joy. Angel or not, it seemed
you could no longer go round artificially inseminating people without
their prior consent and several months on the waiting list. Turning to
the calendar on the wall, Gabriel groaned. Already it was March. Time
was not at his disposal.