Miles Kington: Beware the click of the clergyman

Today I am bringing you a complete novel. Not just a complete novel, but a completely interactive novel – that is, YOU get the chance to influence the plot as we go along!

Should be an exciting ride! Ready? Just one thing to remember – YOU are the hero of this novel, so everything that happens happens to YOU!

OK?

Here we go then with this new novel entitled 'Logging On To God'.

ONE DAY you are seated at your computer, surfing the internet aimlessly, when suddenly a message flashes up on your screen saying: "Hello, there! Do you mind if I spend some time with you?"

What on earth..?

Cautiously, you tap in the message: "Do you mean me, by any chance?"

The answer comes, bright and clear: "I certainly do, my son/daughter!"

Who on earth can it be thus addressing you? Which one of the following four options is it?

a) The tax people.

b) Mori polls.

c) A study group based in Utah, researching the possibility that computers were introduced as an alien form of thought control and that Bill Gates is actually from another planet and has come here seeking world dominance.

d) A clergyman.

Yes, it's a clergyman, because, believe it or not, you have been approached by the Internet Vicar!

This semi-legendary figure is often talked about by web browsers as a comforting figure who roams the shadowy corridors of the internet bringing solace and spiritual advice to those in need, but very few people have come face to face with him.

Nor have you, in fact, as what you see on screen is not a face, but a series of messages asking you about your daily life. The Internet Vicar explains to you that he goes into people's computers at random, rather as he might knock at doors in his parish at random, trying to find out where he is needed.

"I have no church, no dog collar and no vicarage," says the Internet Vicar to you. "The world is my parish."

"Very interesting, Father," you say, to humour him, as you would to a real vicar.

"Now, I have a request of you my son," says the Internet Vicar. "I have a small task for you to perform."

Good heavens? What will it be? Which one of the following?

a) To give up smoking.

b) To do a kind deed every day.

c) To assassinate Bill Gates, who is an evil emissary from another world.

d) To meet the Internet Vicar at Oxford Circus underground station at 10pm that very evening.

Yes, for reasons unknown, the Internet Vicar wants to meet you personally that very evening! Instinctively you feel that this would be a good thing to do, and anyway there's nothing much on the telly that night, so you get the train to London (you live a hundred miles away) and towards 10 pm you find yourself going down into the big round concourse underneath Oxford Circus. There's nothing much going on in Oxford Street that time of night so you are surprised to find the station full of people milling round. The trouble is that no one looks remotely like a clergyman. How on earth are you going to recognise him?

Just then there is an announcement over the PA, which says:

a) "We are sorry to announce a continued delay on the Central westbound."

b) "Do not leave bags unattended."

c) "I am Bill Gates, and I am taking over London Underground from now."

d) "Is there anyone here to meet the Internet Vicar?"

Yes, the announcer actually seems to know that you are here to meet the Internet Vicar, which is a bit embarrassing. You raise your hand gingerly, but much to your amazement so does everyone else in the station, all roaring: "Yes! I am here to see him!"

There is an incipient communal laugh, as everyone realises they have come on the same mission, but this is cut short as you all realise that the gates to the outside world have suddenly clanged shut and you are locked in. Alarm changes to panic as you realise that a cloud of deadly poisonous gas is being pumped in from somewhere and that already people on the edge of the crowd are falling asphyxiated...

I'm very sorry. That's all the novel we have space for. You're on your own now. Sorry about that. Good luck!