His Clockwork Servants - SCP Foundation

"Where are His clockwork servants?

Where is the work of His hands?

Where are Her digital lovers?

What are His broken commands?"

Vasily swallowed hard as Father Aglayev wiped a slim bronze blade on a bright red cloth. The man's grey hair gleamed oddly in the flickering half light as he brought the knifepoint to rest lightly on the flesh of Vasily's left palm, and he muttered softly a question to which they both knew the answer. The chanting of the acolytes surrounding them nearly drowned out Vasily's reply. "Yes, father, I am certain!"

"How can we hope to rebuild Him

if we are still creatures of flesh?

How can we claim that we serve Him

till our bodies are broken afresh?"

Even as Vasily's blood dripped softly to the floor, father Aglayev poured oily liquid from a slim vial onto the wound, tears of pride in his smiling eyes. "Vasily, my son who I have raised as my own, I annoint you into His service. With this, you are ready. Go forth to do His work!"

"What marvels are in His remaking!

What wonders are in Her control!

His Broken Gears turn forever

restoring the penitent soul!"

Father Aglayev held Vasily for a moment in a strong embrace before helping him to his feet. "Come. Your things are packed. Go, missionary, and spread His Broken Word!".

"How can we not spread His message?

How can we not serve His will?

How could we stand in His presence

and let Him remain broken still?"

A few days later, Penitent Vasily Aglayev walked nervously down a crowded street, glancing at the people he passed. His father had told him that so long as he made it here by the appointed time, his duty to the Church would be done. Suddenly, he stumbled.

"In light of the bodies He grants us

what now are our fleshly ones worth?

Through Her intervention we serve Him!

Through Her we will remake the earth!"

Vasily moaned in horror as he felt something in his body begin to change. His father had-

He blinked.

Vasily twitched for a moment, and continued walking, pausing occasionally to touch passerby on the arm or shoulder, muttering His blessing. His step grew regular and a smile formed on his face as his clockwork mind realised the glory of the task before him. This was a blessing he must share! Already the sunlight glinted from the tiny gears beginning to form behind his eyes.

"We are His Clockwork Servants!

We do the work of His hand!

Those who oppose will forgive us

when they are made to understand!"