The Lucifer Journals 

(Why Humans Can’t Have Nice Things)

The Jesus Problem

Bethlehem, 4 BC

Marc Finks

Copyright © 2025 Marc Finks All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ASIN: B0DZ234X88

Cover design by: Kaem Finks

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

To you, and whatever you may believe in. Hopefully it brings you peace and doesn’t hurt anyone else.

And, as always, to my wife, Kaem, for an after-dinner conversation that inspired the creation of L. She has fulfilled my life in so many ways.

Current Series Status

Urgent Memo to Reader, #1

Urgent Memo to Reader, #2

Interdimensional ARCHIVAL NOTE

Act 1, Chapter 1: The Journal Entry

Chapter 2: The Magic Lessons

Chapter 3: The Young Teacher

Chapter 4: Logic and Parables

Chapter 5: Advanced Lessons

Interdimensional MEMORANDUM

Act 2, Chapter 1: The Wedding Setup

Act 2, Chapter 2: The Cana Crisis

Act 2, Chapter 3: Growing Movement

Act 2, Chapter 4: The Feeding Problem

Act 2, Chapter 5: Walking on Water

URGENT Interdimensional MEMORANDUM

Act 3, Chapter 1: Simple Advice

Act 3, Chapter 2: The Breaking Point

Act 3, Chapter 3: The Judas Question

Act 3, Chapter 4: The Opposition

Act 3, Chapter 5: The Understanding

Act 3, Chapter 6: The Legacy Forms

FINAL JUDGMENT AND ASSESSMENT

Thank you!

Complete Volume List (of the journals that have currently been found)

About the Author

Current Series Status

Available Now - (April 5th)

-The Beginning of All Problems
(Mesopotamia, 13,000 BCE)

-The Genghis Khan Problem
((Mongolian Steppes, 1180 CE)

-The Trojan War Problem
(Anatolian Coast, 1200 BCE)

-The Aztec Problem
(Tenochtitlan, 1519 CE)

-The Romeo and Juliet Problem -
A Shakespeare Collaboration, Vol. 1
(London, England, 1599 CE)

-The Jesus Problem -
(Bethlehem, 4 BCE)

Coming Soon

-The Rome Problem
(Rome, 750 BCE)

-The Hamlet Problem -
A Shakespeare Collaboration, Vol. 2
(Elsinore Castle, Denmark, 1601 CE)

-The Library of Alexandria Problem
(Alexandria, 295 BCE)

Urgent Memo to Reader, #1

Welcome to The Lucifer Journals - a chronicle of why humans can't have nice things.

You can read these volumes in any order, though "The Beginning of All Problems" explains how L first found himself permanently exiled to Earth after a simple attempt to feed a hungry child accidentally changed the trajectory of human civilization.

It’s essentially the origin story for 75 other journals that L has left strewn across humanity’s historical landscape.

Upper Management is not amused. The dolphins, they frequently remind L, never cause these problems.

Immortal, well-meaning, and catastrophically helpful, L continues his journey through human history - leaving a trail of unintended consequences that have shaped our world in ways he never intended.

Enjoy the chaos.

The Management

Urgent Memo to Reader, #2

Just to reiterate:

These journals document the activities of Observer L, an interdimensional, cosmic non-human being assigned to monitor Earth's development without interference.

L's persistent failure to follow this directive has resulted in numerous historical "accidents" and eternal exile on Earth.

Upper Management continues to collect and classify these accounts for training purposes.

We do NOT want a repeat of any of these ‘incidents” with any future species or planetary systems.

Interdimensional ARCHIVAL NOTE

This is the sixth volume we have recovered from L, the Observer assigned to Earth. We believe it was the 14th written in L's timeline.

This journal was discovered buried beneath the cornerstone of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem during 17th century Ottoman renovations. The manuscript was wrapped in multilingual cloth bearing phrases from three major Abrahamic religions.

Local legends tell of a "revelation journal" that shows all faiths spring from a common source - a narrative quickly suppressed by religious authorities of all denominations.

—Archivist K, Department of Interdimensional Records

Bethlehem

4 BCE

Act 1, Chapter 1: The Journal Entry

Personal Log,

Judean Countryside, Winter, 4 BCE

I may have accidentally started something. Again.

It seemed so simple at first. Just helping a young couple in trouble - a very pregnant woman and her carpenter husband, traveling alone on dangerous roads during this ridiculous Roman census. They shouldn't have been out there by themselves, especially not with her so close to delivering.

I thought I was being clever. There were these wealthy scholars I knew, astronomers from the East who studied celestial patterns (nothing like my geometric farming incident, I assure Upper Management). They were already traveling this way, following some unusual star movements I absolutely did NOT enhance to help with navigation.

"You know," I suggested casually, "there's this young couple who could use some help. Maybe bring them some practical gifts? Blankets, food, basic supplies?"

The astronomers got that look. That dangerous gleam of understanding that always precedes disaster. "Gifts worthy of prophecy?" one asked, already calculating stellar positions.

"No, no, just normal gifts! Practical things for a baby!"

But they were already consulting their charts, muttering about celestial signs and ancient predictions. I really should have remembered how scholars love finding patterns in everything.

"Gold would be traditional," one mused. "Frankincense has spiritual significance," another added. "Myrrh is traditionally associated with..."

"I meant like diapers! Or maybe a nice casserole!"

But it was too late. They'd already packed their exotic gifts and were following that suspiciously bright star that I definitely didn't adjust to make their journey easier.

Note to self: Maybe stop trying to coordinate charitable donations?

The birth went well, at least. Though I still feel bad about the stable situation. I'd tried suggesting to the innkeeper about emergency accommodations, but somehow my comment about "room in the back" got misinterpreted. Story of my existence, really.

But here's the thing - the boy is remarkable. I've been checking on them (purely out of concern for the gifts' proper distribution, I assure Upper Management). He has this way of understanding things, of seeing through to the heart of matters. Yesterday I watched him solve a complex moral dilemma between two younger children with the kind of wisdom that...well, let's just say I'm impressed.

I know I should maintain proper observation protocols. Should remember what happened every other time I tried to "help" with human development. Should just watch and document.

But he asks such interesting questions...

And he seems so eager to learn...

And I do know some simple magic tricks that might help him connect with other children...

What could possibly go wrong with teaching a bright young boy some basic sleight of hand?

Note to self: Stop ending journal entries with questions like that.

Though watching him practice the first card trick I showed him, seeing his eyes light up with understanding, watching him immediately figure out three new ways to use it to help others...

I really need to stop getting involved.

Really.

Any day now.

Maybe after just one more magic lesson...

[Note from Upper Management: We noticed unusual stellar activity in your sector. Please explain why shepherds are reporting angelic choirs.]

[Response: The acoustics in these hills are very strange! Probably just wind in the caves. Definitely not me trying to provide ambient celebration music. Though you have to admit, it worked out rather well...]

[Note from Upper Management: The dolphins never create celestial choirs...]

Chapter 2: The Magic Lessons

I found Jesus in the marketplace, trying to help his family make ends meet. The golden gifts from those astronomers (which I still maintain should have been practical supplies) had long since been used for food and shelter. Now he was telling stories to a small crowd, earning the occasional coin through wit rather than charity.

He had a good technique, I had to admit. Each riddle and tale perfectly crafted to draw listeners in. Currently, he was explaining to a merchant why his mathematical puzzle about divided fish couldn't possibly work.

"You see," he said, sketching figures in the dust, "if you split the catch that way, you'd have half a fish left over. But if you distribute them like this..." His small hands moved with precise efficiency, rearranging pebbles into a solution that made the merchant's eyes widen.

"But...but that's impossible!" The merchant stared at the pattern. "Unless...are you suggesting this represents the divine ordering of—"

"No!" Jesus said with familiar frustration. "It's just mathematics! Simple division and—"

"Such wisdom!" The merchant dropped a coin in Jesus's bowl. "Using humble arithmetic to teach deeper truths!"

I watched Jesus's face cycle through confusion, annoyance, and resignation - expressions I knew all too well. He picked up the coin with a sigh, added it to the meager collection he'd earned that morning.

"Interesting technique," I said, stepping forward. "Using puzzles to earn your way."

He looked up, brushing dark curls from his eyes. "It would work better if they'd just take the solutions literally. But everyone wants everything to be a metaphor!"

"I know exactly how you feel," I said, settling beside him in the shade of a market stall. "I once tried teaching someone about efficient maze design..."

"What happened?"

"Ever heard of the Labyrinth of Crete?"

His eyes widened. "That was you?"

"I meant it as a simple lesson in path marking! But no, they had to add a Minotaur..."

He nodded sympathetically. "At least your mazes got built. I keep trying to explain basic math, and they think I'm revealing divine mysteries."

I watched him arrange his pebbles for another demonstration. His technique was good, but...

I should have kept quiet. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried to help. Should have learned my lesson about teaching.

Instead, I said: "You know, I could show you some tricks that might help with your presentations..."

"What kind of tricks?"

"Just simple things. Misdirection, sleight of hand. Might help hold their attention while you explain the actual concepts."

His eyes lit up with that dangerous gleam of understanding I'd seen too often. But this time, it was different. This time, someone finally understood the frustration of humans missing the point.

"Show me," he said eagerly.

I pulled out a coin. "The secret is directing attention. Watch their eyes, not their minds. When you want them to see something..." The coin vanished. "Make sure they're looking in exactly the right..." It reappeared. "Place."

Jesus watched intently, those clever eyes missing nothing. On his first try, he managed a passable vanish.

"Perfect!" I said. "Now you can use this to demonstrate principles of—"

"I could use it to explain how things aren't always what they seem!" he interrupted excitedly. "Or about looking past surface appearances, or—"

"I meant for entertainment! Just simple tricks to—"

But he was already incorporating the moves into his next mathematical explanation. The crowd grew larger. Coins clinked more frequently in his bowl.

"You see," he told his audience, making a denarius appear exactly where his equation predicted, "when you calculate the tax rate properly..."

"Amazing!" someone gasped. "The coin represents our obligations to heaven!"

Jesus shot me a look that spoke volumes about human interpretation.

"If it helps," I offered, "I once tried teaching Romans about road marking..."

"Do I want to know?"

"All roads lead to Rome wasn't supposed to be literal..."

He laughed, then turned back to his growing audience. I watched him practice our lessons, using simple tricks to illustrate logical principles. Each demonstration somehow becoming profound wisdom in his listeners' minds.

"Note to self," I muttered, as another simple math lesson transformed into theological discourse, "Maybe stick to card tricks next time?"

But seeing him earn enough to help his family, watching him find new ways to reach people, feeling that rare pride in having a student who actually understood...

I couldn't regret it entirely.

Though maybe I should avoid teaching him anything about transformation effects...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Chapter 3: The Young Teacher

The afternoon sun filtered through gnarled olive branches, casting shifting patterns on the dusty ground where I found Jesus teaching. He'd gathered quite an audience - not just the usual local children, but a few traveling merchants who'd paused their journeys, drawn by the unusual sight of a young boy speaking with such authority.

He had that same focused expression I'd seen when he solved the merchant's riddle last week, the one about the camel loads that had stumped even the tax collectors. His small hands moved with precision as he arranged pebbles in the dirt, dark eyes intense with concentration. The other children sat in a semicircle, completely absorbed, while the merchants whispered among themselves about the strange wisdom of youth.

"You see," he was saying, using a stick to draw lines connecting the pebbles, "if you plant your seeds in this pattern..." He stepped back, revealing a geometric sequence that made my immortal heart skip a beat. "The sunlight reaches more plants, and each one grows better. The shadows fall here, and here, so if you offset each row by exactly—"

I froze. Those were my farming patterns. The exact ones that had reshaped agriculture across three continents. The same patterns that had Upper Management still sending me memos about "unauthorized geometric innovations in human development."

A warm breeze stirred the olive leaves, carrying the scent of dust and wild herbs as one of the smaller children - a shepherd's daughter with sun-bleached curls - squinted at the pattern. "But what does it mean?"

"It means plant your seeds like this," Jesus said with that particular patience I'd noticed he reserved for genuine questions. He adjusted a few pebbles, making the pattern even more mathematically perfect. "More food grows that way. See how the lines intersect? That's for the irrigation channels."

"No, no," interrupted an older boy - the rabbi's son, I'd learned, who had his father's tendency to find deeper meaning in everything. "It's about faith growing in our hearts! The seeds are like belief, and the pattern shows how it spreads through the community! The lines are like the paths of righteousness!"

I watched Jesus's face shift through emotions I knew all too well: confusion, frustration, and that particular expression that meant humans were once again spectacularly missing the point. He brushed dark curls from his forehead, leaving a smudge of dust that made him look even younger.

"What? No, I meant actual seeds. Real plants. Like wheat. Or barley." He rearranged the pebbles with slightly less patience, using larger ones to emphasize the key points. "Look, if you arrange the rows like this, the water reaches all the roots more efficiently. It's about irrigation and crop yields and—"

"Water of life!" exclaimed Sarah, the baker's daughter, bouncing with excitement. "The spiritual water that nourishes our souls! And the larger stones represent the weight of our responsibilities!"

"But I'm talking about real water!" Jesus protested, throwing his hands up in a gesture that reminded me remarkably of…me. "For actual plants! The kind you drink! The kind that makes things grow!"

The merchants nodded sagely, already discussing the profound spiritual implications of agricultural metaphors.

I couldn't help myself. "Familiar problem?" I asked, stepping out from the shade where I'd been watching.

He looked up, relief crossing his features. A smear of dirt marked one cheek where he'd rubbed it in frustration. "They keep missing the point! I'm trying to teach them about farming, but they think everything's a deeper meaning!"

"I know exactly how you feel," I said, settling onto a sun-warmed stone beside him. The children shifted to include me in their circle, already used to my occasional appearances. "I once tried teaching someone about efficient crop rotation..."

He smiled as we fell into our pattern that seemed to help ease his frustrations for a while. “What happened?"

"Ever heard of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"

He gave a slight laugh, his eyes never leaving my face. “How did crop rotation become the Hanging Gardens?”

"I meant it as a demonstration of vertical farming techniques! But no, they had to make it one of the Wonders of the World. Started building these elaborate terraces, adding ceremonial elements...Classic human over-complication of a simple agricultural suggestion."

He nodded sympathetically, then turned back to his students with renewed determination. "One more time. These pebbles are ACTUAL seeds." He placed each one deliberately. "This pattern is for REAL farming. It's not a metaphor, it's agriculture! It's about growing food more efficiently!"

The children nodded with profound understanding. "Yes, yes," said the rabbi's son. "The pebbles represent our deeds, and the pattern shows how good works multiply in the community, and the shadows represent divine guidance..."

Jesus flopped back against the olive tree with a groan that stirred a few dozing sparrows. "Why does everyone do that?"

"If it helps," I offered, "I once tried explaining solar observation to some people in England..."

"And?"

"They built Stonehenge." I paused. "Though in fairness, I might have gotten a bit too specific about angle measurements."

He laughed, then looked thoughtful, absently stacking pebbles as he considered. "Maybe I need a better way to explain things. Something that would make them understand practical ideas..."

I should have kept quiet. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried to help. Should have learned my lesson about suggestions.

Instead, I said: "You know, there are other tricks you can use to entertain people..."

He turned those clever eyes toward me. "Like what?"

"Well..." Stop talking! "There are techniques for placing objects without being noticed. For making people discover things they didn't know they had..." Stop teaching! "Though those are just theoretical concepts about misdirection—"

But he was already moving closer, that dangerous gleam of understanding in his eyes. "Show me."

I pulled a small seed from my pocket. "The trick is in the movement. Watch their eyes, not their hands. When they're focused here—" I gestured broadly with my left hand while my right smoothly slipped the seed into his sleeve. "They miss what's happening..."

"Perfect!" His face lit up. "I could use this to teach people about proper seed storage!"

"These are just basic principles of misdirection! Not actual farming techniques—"

But he was already practicing, his quick mind grasping concepts that had taken me centuries to perfect. His hands moved with fluid grace, making seeds appear and vanish like they had lives of their own.

"Look," he told the gathering crowd, demonstrating as he spoke. "If you set aside good seeds now—" A seed appeared in his palm. "—store them properly—" It vanished. "—then when planting season comes—" He motioned toward a merchant's pocket. "You'll have what you need."

The merchant's eyes widened as he pulled out a seed he hadn't known was there.

"That's basic planning," Jesus continued, moving through the crowd with perfect precision. "Save the best seeds from each harvest, store them carefully..." His hands never stopped moving, and people kept discovering seeds in their pockets and pouches. "Then you'll always have something to plant next season."

“I have a seed in my pocket!” someone shouted, their voice full of rapture.

Other voices joined in. “Me too!”

"Incredible!" someone gasped. "Surely this is a sign—"

"No, no," Jesus interrupted with familiar frustration. "It's about agricultural planning! Look, I'll show you exactly how it works—" He demonstrated the technique again, his movements so smooth even I had trouble following them. "Simple preparation for future needs..."

"A miracle!" someone else shouted. "Seeds multiplying by divine will!"

"It's just practical farming advice!" Jesus protested. "Basic crop management! Here, let me show you again—"

But they were already transforming his simple lessons about planning ahead into something else entirely. I watched him try repeatedly to explain about proper seed storage, about saving for future seasons, about basic agricultural management—only to have every demonstration turned into mystical revelation.

"Note to self," I muttered, watching him maintain perfect technique even in his growing frustration, "Maybe stick to coin tricks next time?"

That evening, I found him practicing by himself, his movements becoming even smoother with repetition. "I was just trying to teach them about planning ahead," he said, making a seed dance between his fingers. "About saving good seeds for future planting. About basic farming principles!"

"If it helps," I offered, "I once tried teaching someone about food storage..."

"What happened?"

"They created the largest landfill in human history."

He winced sympathetically. "At least they're learning about misdirection..."

I watched him practice a particularly complex move, noticing how his hands seemed to know where everything was without looking. Almost instinctively, I reached to check my pocket, making sure my trangsmogrifier device was still secure.

Jesus watched this movement with far too much interest, a slight smile playing at his lips.

"Oh no..." I whispered. Does he know about it…?

"Don't worry," he said, that smile growing. "I wouldn't take it. Yet." He held up his hands innocently. "Though you have to admit, it would make an excellent demonstration of planning ahead..."

"Those were pickpocketing lessons! Not agricultural management techniques!" He grinned as I stammered, “I mean...they were NOT pickpocketing lessons!”

But watching him slip more seeds into pockets with perfect skill, seeing him transform simple sleight of hand into practical wisdom, feeling that growing certainty that I really should count my teaching aids...

I couldn't help but wonder what else he'd learned that I hadn't intended to teach.

Though I'm sure he wouldn't try anything too ambitious...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

And I really, really needed to start keeping better track of my device.

Chapter 4: Logic and Parables

"The problem," Jesus said, examining the crumbling foundation of widow Miriam's house, "is that they built directly on the sand." He was thirteen now, and had developed an irritating habit of being right about things he shouldn't understand yet.

I watched him pace the foundation's edge, checking angles with the same precision I'd noticed during our magic lessons. A small crowd had gathered - there were always crowds around him lately - watching the young builder's son examine their construction methods.

"Look here," he continued, pointing to where water had undermined the structure. "If they'd dug down to the bedrock first..." He sketched a quick diagram in the sand, showing foundation layers with that same geometric precision that made me nervous. "Then anchored it properly..."

"Ah," interrupted Benjamin, one of the local religious scholars who'd taken to following Jesus around lately. "So you're saying our faith must be anchored in divine law?"

Jesus looked up from his diagram, that familiar frustration crossing his features. "What? No, I'm talking about actual buildings. Real stone. Physical foundations. Look, I'll demonstrate—"

He picked up two handfuls of sand, letting them fall in different patterns. The crowd leaned forward eagerly, clearly expecting profound wisdom.

"See? This loose sand shifts and moves. But if you dig down to solid rock—"

"Yes, yes!" Benjamin nodded enthusiastically. "The shifting sands of human understanding versus the solid rock of scripture!"

"No! I mean yes, but— That's not—" Jesus looked at me pleadingly. "Help?"

I really shouldn't have. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried to explain things. Should have learned my lesson about technical demonstrations.

Instead, I said: "Perhaps a practical example?" I pulled out the set of cups we'd been using for magic practice. "A demonstration of stability principles..."

His eyes lit up. "Perfect! Watch this," he told the crowd, taking the cups. "If I put this cup on loose sand..." He demonstrated, the cup wobbling. "But if I create a proper foundation first..."

I watched proudly as he used our sleight-of-hand practice to demonstrate basic engineering principles. The cups seemed to stabilize mysteriously, his quick fingers hiding the actual adjustments. The crowd gasped appropriately.

"You see?" he said. "It's about proper building techniques! If you just dig down to—"

"A miracle!" someone shouted. "The cups show how faith stabilizes our lives!"

"No, no," Jesus protested. "I'm using the cups to demonstrate actual construction methods! It's just a simple trick to show—"

"Even better!" Benjamin exclaimed. "Using humble tricks to teach divine wisdom! Truly inspired!"

Jesus slumped against the foundation wall. "I was trying to help them build better houses..."

"I know exactly how you feel," I said. "I once tried teaching Romans about basic architecture..."

"What happened?"

"Ever seen their aqueducts? I meant build a simple water channel. Instead..." I gestured vaguely at the massive stone structures visible on the horizon.

"At least they're still using them for water," he pointed out. "Everyone thinks my cup trick is about spiritual stability."

"Could be worse," I offered. "I once suggested using pyramids for grain storage..."

He winced sympathetically. "Is that why—"

"Don't ask."

The crowd was still debating the deeper meaning of cup placement while Jesus attempted one more time to explain proper foundation engineering. I watched him incorporate more of our magic practice, using misdirection to demonstrate structural principles.

"The trick," he was saying, "is preparing the ground properly. See?" He made a coin vanish and reappear under the properly supported cup. "If you don't do the preparation first—"

"The coin represents our souls!" someone shouted. "And the cup is divine protection!"

"But..." Jesus looked at the cups, the coin, his carefully drawn diagrams. "I just wanted to help them build stable houses..."

I patted his shoulder sympathetically. "At least they're paying attention?"

"I suppose..." He gathered the cups, then paused. "You know, if they're going to find deeper meaning anyway, maybe I could use that? Work with it somehow?"

I should have noticed that dangerous gleam returning to his eyes. Should have remembered what happened every time someone got that look. Should have considered the implications.

Instead, I said: "Well, if you're going to teach them anyway, I know a few more tricks that might help. Nothing fancy, just some simple effects with water..."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, basic liquid transfers between cups. Might help explain flow dynamics, water pressure, that sort of thing..."

His eyes lit up. "Show me!"

"Note to self," I muttered, pulling out the trick cups, "Maybe stick to card tricks next time?"

But watching him practice the new sleight-of-hand, seeing him work out how to use it for demonstrations, feeling that familiar pride in his quick understanding...

I couldn't help but notice he was getting very good at making things appear and disappear.

Though I'm sure that wouldn't lead to any problems.

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

[Note from Upper Management: We notice you're teaching again. Need we remind you about the pyramid incident? The dolphins never turn grain storage into monuments...]

Chapter 5: Advanced Lessons

"But how does it work?" Jesus asked, examining the coin that had just apparently passed through solid wood. He'd mastered all my basic illusions with frustrating speed, and now his questions were getting dangerously specific.

We sat in the cool shade of his father's workshop, surrounded by the scent of freshly cut wood and the sound of Joseph's saw from the yard. Jesus had arranged our practice coins in that same precise geometric pattern that always made me nervous.

"It's just misdirection," I said quickly. "Simple sleight of hand—"

"No, I mean how does matter actually move through matter?" Those clever eyes fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity. "There must be spaces between the smallest pieces, right? Like grain in wood, but smaller?"

I should have changed the subject. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried explaining physics. Should have learned my lesson about atomic theory.

Instead, I said: "Well, technically, everything is mostly empty space..."

His eyes got that dangerous gleam. "Show me."

"It's very advanced," I hedged. "Maybe we should stick to card tricks—"

"Please?" He arranged the coins into a surprisingly accurate model of molecular structure. "I've been thinking about this. About how things change form. Like water to wine—"

"Absolutely not! I mean...that's not really possible..."

"But if everything is mostly space, and you could control how the pieces move..."

I watched him sketch diagrams in the sawdust, his quick mind racing ahead to implications I really shouldn't have suggested. He had that same look I'd seen when he solved the temple scholars' philosophical puzzles - the one that meant he wasn't going to let this go.

"What about multiplication?" he asked suddenly. "If you could rearrange the basic pieces of things—"

"Those are just tricks with fish!" I said quickly. "Counting illusions! Nothing to do with actual matter manipulation—"

"But theoretically..." He was drawing more diagrams, adding mathematical notations that made my immortal soul cringe. "If you had the right tool..."

I touched my pocket unconsciously, feeling the reassuring shape of my transmogrifier. "These are very theoretical concepts," I said carefully. "Not practical demonstrations—"

"Like ‘your friend's’ seed-modification device that accidentally created agriculture?" He actually made air quotes around the words ‘your friend’s’. 

I think he knows it was me.

I winced. "Who told you about that?"

"You did. Last week. When I asked about efficient farming patterns."

"Ah." I really needed to be more careful with my examples.

"So there are tools," he said thoughtfully. "Devices that can actually change things at their smallest level..."

"Purely theoretical! And completely forbidden! And..." I noticed his eyes tracking my hand's nervous movement toward my pocket. "...and we should probably get back to card tricks."

"One more question?"

"As long as it's about sleight of hand..."

"What did you mean earlier about molecular restructuring being dangerous in the wrong hands?"

"That was a general warning! Not about any specific device that might or might not be in my pocket—" I stopped. "I mean..."

But he was already sketching more diagrams, adding notes about matter transformation that looked disturbingly accurate. I watched him work, remembered other students who'd shown this kind of dangerous aptitude. 

Archimedes. Pythagoras. That troublesome young man in Alexandria with the library card...

"Note to self," I muttered, "Maybe stick to simple philosophy next time?"

"What about water density?" he asked suddenly. "Could you theoretically change it enough to..." He looked toward the sea thoughtfully. “....walk on water?”

"No! Absolutely not! We are NOT discussing water manipulation!"

"But you said everything is mostly empty space..."

"That was theoretical physics! Not practical applications! Not something you could actually do with the right device—" I stopped again. "I mean..."

He smiled that particular smile that always meant I'd said too much. "Tell me more about theoretical physics?"

I should have left right then. Should have remembered what happened with Archimedes and that bathtub. Should have learned my lesson about teaching bright students about molecular theory.

Instead, I pulled out my teaching aids. "Just simple demonstrations," I said firmly. "Nothing about practical applications..."

But watching him absorb each lesson with perfect understanding, seeing him grasp concepts that had taken humans centuries to develop, feeling that growing worry about the gleam in his eyes...

I made very sure my transmogrifier was securely fastened in my pocket.

Though perhaps I should add some better security features...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

[Note from Upper Management: We notice you're discussing atomic theory again. Need we remind you about the Alexandria incident? The dolphins never accidentally invent nuclear physics...]

Interdimensional MEMORANDUM

FROM: Field Agent L. Morningstar (Earth Division)

TO: Upper Management, Department of Human Progress

RE: Minor Cultural Developments in Aegean Region

Classification: Routine (Nothing to Worry About, Really)

Esteemed Management,

I'm pleased to report fascinating educational developments in the Nazareth region. Everything is proceeding naturally with minimal outside influence whatsoever!

Current Observations

The Judean education sector shows remarkable progress lately. I've found an exceptionally promising student whose understanding of performance techniques is developing entirely through his own natural genius. His innovative approach to practical demonstrations reflects organic intellectual growth rather than any external stimulation. The local response to his demonstrations continues to evolve naturally, and cross-cultural teaching exchange is flourishing in unexpected ways.

Recent Accomplishments

My student is showing unprecedented comprehension of demonstration principles—this development emerged completely organically and certainly wasn't inspired by any casual discussions about sleight-of-hand. His magic techniques are progressing at a natural pace that absolutely no one accelerated through innocent observations. His intellectual capabilities continue to improve through his own innovation, not through any outside theoretical suggestions. His public demonstrations are becoming more...dynamic, but in a completely natural way.

Clarifications

I should address certain exaggerated reports you may have received:

Any rumors about "advanced molecular theories" reflect theoretical enthusiasm rather than actual application

The term "transformation demonstrations" is merely instructional hyperbole

Those impressive sleight-of-hand techniques would have happened regardless of outside input

The device security situation will resolve itself through normal educational channels

Personal Notes

We're witnessing organic development of human intellectual potential here. If certain parties appear to be implementing unprecedented physical demonstrations, I assure you they're simply engaging in elaborate educational exercises.

With eternal optimism, L. Morningstar Field Agent, Earth Division

P.S. - The teaching demonstrations some observers have noted are completely natural. Students learn that way all the time!

P.P.S. - Any upcoming theological implications are probably inevitable given the region's cultural traditions.

P.P.P.S. - Would this be an inappropriate time to request a transfer to the Mesopotamian division?

(Note from Upper Management: As long as the geometric farming patterns are still visible from space, you may NOT return to that part of the world.)

Act 2, Chapter 1: The Wedding Setup

We sat in the shade of an olive grove, taking a break from wedding preparations. He'd been helping organize his cousin's celebration in Cana, but somehow our conversation kept drifting back to molecular theory.

"These are very theoretical concepts," I said carefully. "Not practical applications—"

"Like how wine is just water with different arrangements of the same pieces?" He sketched molecular diagrams in the dust with disturbing accuracy. "Or how you could theoretically adjust the basic structure to—"

"Those are advanced physics principles! Not something you could actually do without specialized—" I stopped, noticing his too-innocent expression. "I mean..."

"Without specialized what?" His eyes had that dangerous gleam of understanding. "Equipment? Tools? Devices?"

"Without thousands of years of specialized training! Which this isn't! This is just theoretical discussion about—"

"Like that theoretical discussion about making clay pots that led to advanced wheeled warfare?"

I winced. "Who told you about that?"

"You did. Last month. When I asked about making a watering pot with a better spout." He grinned. "Right before you mentioned something about a device that could theoretically—"

"Those were hypothetical examples! Not references to any specific quantum manipulation technology that might or might not be in my—" I reached for my pocket automatically.

Jesus watched this movement with far too much interest.

"Just checking for...lunch money," I finished lamely.

"Of course." He nodded seriously, but his eyes danced with suppressed laughter. "Nothing to do with theoretical matter transformation devices."

"Exactly! Now, about the wedding preparations—"

"One more question?"

"As long as it's about actual wedding planning..."

"It is! I was just wondering..." He drew another disturbing accurate molecular diagram. "About the wine situation. Theoretically, if someone had a way to adjust basic matter at its smallest level..."

"No! Absolutely not! We are NOT discussing molecular transformation at a wedding!" I knew where this was going, and I was not going to let it happen.

Absolutely...no way.

The next morning, I found Jesus by the lake, teaching a group of fishermen about net repair. At least, he was trying to. They kept finding deeper meaning in his knot-tying demonstrations.

"No, look—" He held up a section of damaged net. "If you watch how the ropes move, how they interact with each other..." His fingers traced patterns that made my immortal heart skip a beat. They looked suspiciously like certain mathematical sequences I really shouldn't have mentioned.

I should have walked away. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried teaching anyone about patterns. Should have learned my lesson about theoretical discussions.

Instead, I said: "You know, there are other ways to understand how things connect..."

He turned those clever eyes toward me, already lighting up with that dangerous gleam of understanding. "Like what?"

"Well..." Stop talking! "There are patterns in everything—in water movement, in bird flight, in how schools of fish..." Stop helping! "Though those are just natural observations, not—"

But he was already moving closer, leaving his confused students arguing about the spiritual significance of fisherman's knots. "Show me."

I led him to a quieter spot by the water. "Watch the surface patterns," I said, tossing a small stone. Ripples spread in perfect mathematical sequences. "See how each movement affects—"

"The distribution curves!" His quick mind leaped ahead. "Like how schools of fish respond to disturbances! If you understand the patterns—"

"Yes! Exactly! These are just better fishing techniques!"

Too late. He was already gathering more stones, testing different patterns, his hands moving with the same precise grace he used for sleight of hand. Each ripple pattern more mathematically perfect than the last.

"Amazing!" A fisherman had followed us. "Surely this represents—"

"No! Look at the water!" Jesus tried desperately. "See how the ripples predict fish movement? How understanding pattern distribution could improve your catch?"

But more people were gathering, watching him create perfect mathematical sequences on the lake's surface. I saw the moment his practical fishing lesson transformed into something else entirely.

"The ripples represent our actions spreading through life!"

“It’s a miracle!”

Jesus shot me a look of pure frustration. "I was trying to teach them about fish behavior..."

"If it helps," I offered, "I once tried teaching someone about building walls around their garden..."

"What happened?"

"War. Destruction. The end of humanity living at one with nature."

He managed a small smile, then turned back to his growing audience. "Look, it's very simple physics—when the waves intersect here..." He demonstrated another pattern that made me distinctly nervous. "The fish tend to—"

"The fish represent our sins being washed away!”

Jesus slumped beside me, watching his practical fishing lesson dissolve into theological debate. "I just wanted to help them catch more fish..."

He reached into his pocket and began absently playing with something in his hands. Something that moved with suspicious fluidity for a simple stone. Something that created ripple patterns that shouldn't have been possible without...

I reached for my pocket. Found it empty.

"Oh, you noticed!" Jesus brightened immediately. "I was wondering how long it would take. Your device makes the most fascinating patterns in water! Watch this—"

And somehow, without the centuries of explicitly controlled lessons, he adjusted settings I definitely hadn't taught him about, and created ripple sequences that would have made Upper Management nervous. 

The crowd's theological interpretations grew more elaborate with each impossible pattern.

He tossed it back to me with a grin and I shoved it deep into my pocket.

"Note to self," I muttered, watching him try to explain to his followers how they could watch the ripples to better track the fish.  "Maybe not teach pickpocketing anymore?"

But watching him create perfect mathematical patterns in nature, seeing him grasp concepts that shouldn't exist yet, feeling that growing certainty that I really should have better security protocols...

I couldn't help but wonder what else he'd figured out that I hadn't intended to teach.

Though I'm sure he wouldn't try anything too dramatic...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

And I really, really needed to design better pocket security.

Act 2, Chapter 2: The Cana Crisis

I realized my transmogrifier was missing again halfway through the wedding feast. One moment I was watching Jesus suspiciously inspect the water jars, the next I was patting an empty pocket with growing horror.

The celebration swirled around me - music, dancing, the usual chaos of a village wedding. But all I could focus on was the last time I'd definitely had the device. During our "theoretical" physics discussion? When I demonstrated molecular theory using cups of water? While he kept asking those suspiciously specific questions about matter transformation...

Oh no.

"Has anyone seen Jesus?" I asked a passing servant.

"He's by the water jars. Something about checking liquid volumes for his mother—"

I was running before she finished speaking. Pushed through the crowd just in time to see him pull something familiar from his sleeve with practiced sleight of hand.

"That's not what that's for!" I hissed, but I was too far away.

He caught my eye across the courtyard and smiled that particular smile that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. The device hummed to life with a familiar quantum resonance.

I couldn't get there in time. Couldn't stop it without revealing myself. Couldn't do anything but watch as molecular structures shifted with perfect precision.

Wait.

Perfect precision?

I slowed down, studying the transformation pattern. He'd actually calculated the molecular adjustments exactly right. The quantum field alignments were flawless. The atomic restructuring showed complete understanding of the theoretical principles I'd taught him.

"I hate to admit it," I muttered, watching water become a rather nice vintage, "but that's actually impressive."

"Isn't it?" Jesus appeared beside me, making me jump. The device vanished up his sleeve with professional smoothness. "Perfect molecular transformation, just like you explained. Though I had to adjust the quantum harmonics to account for temperature variation."

"That's...that's actually correct. But that's not the point! You can't just—"

"The replication arrays needed tuning too. Had to calculate the exact molecular structure of a good wine before duplicating it. Can you imagine wasting a miracle on something mediocre? Imagine the cognitive dissonance if a miracle produced bad-tasting wine!"

"Those were theoretical physics lessons! Not instructions for...for..."

"Applied molecular gastronomy?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're as bad as I am with unintended consequences."

"Learned from the best." He grinned. "Want to hear my theory about water density and surface tension? I have some ideas about walking on—"

"No! Absolutely not! Give me back my device!"

“But I’m using it exactly as designed!” Jesus insisted, tightening his grip on the transmogrifier. “Perfect molecular manipulation, just like you taught me. Watch this…” He reached for the nearest water jar.

“Those were supposed to be magic tricks! Simple sleight of hand—” I broke off as he tapped a switch with practiced ease.

“This is sleight of hand. Just...with quantum mechanics.”

I could only watch in horror as a fresh ripple flickered across the surface of the water. Then he dipped a ladle, handing it to a hovering servant—just in time for a small knot of wedding guests to gather.

The servant raised the ladle to his nose, sniffed, and nearly dropped it in shock. “By the heavens...it’s wine!” he gasped. “Better than any we’ve had all night!”

Word spread like lightning. Soon a half-dozen curious guests crowded around, each thrusting a cup beneath the ladle, clamoring for a taste. Someone in elaborate wedding finery demanded a sample, then sputtered in delight: “It’s magnificent! The flavor—how did—where—”

“This has to be some sign,” whispered an older woman to the bride’s mother, eyes darting between Jesus and the newly refilled jar. “A...a miracle!”

Another man in a richly embroidered robe took a long sip and grinned ecstatically. “They saved the best vintage for last? That’s unheard of!”

More voices joined in, excited chatter swarming around Jesus like bees. “Wondrous!” “Truly divine!” “We were about to run dry—now look at this bounty!”

I stood on the fringes, heart thumping. Any second, I expected lightning to crack overhead or the device to malfunction in front of everyone. Instead, the crowd’s amazement kept building, each new sip producing fresh gasps and proclamations about “divine intervention” and “heavenly gifts.”

Across the courtyard, Jesus caught my eye, that impish spark dancing in his smile. As if to say, “Told you I’d handle it.”

“Note to self,” I muttered under my breath, as praises of “miracle wine!” rippled outward through the throng, “maybe add better security features next time…”

"About those security features," Jesus said thoughtfully. "The quantum encryption was quite clever, but you really should update the temporal locking mechanism. And the phase-shift stabilizers could use some work..."

"You're not supposed to know about quantum encryption! Or temporal locking! Or—"

But he was already moving through the crowd, accepting congratulations with serene humility. The device had vanished completely, though I caught occasional glimpses of familiar quantum resonance patterns.

"At least he's using it correctly," I sighed, watching another flawless molecular transformation. "Though perhaps we should discuss the difference between 'can' and 'should'..."

A servant rushed past, excitedly telling others about the miracle. Theological interpretations were already spreading. Someone mentioned divine providence.

I watched my student demonstrate perfect mastery of principles that had taken me centuries to develop, using advanced technology in exactly the way it was designed, creating philosophical implications I really should have anticipated...

"Note to self," I whispered, as religious significance bloomed around us, "Maybe next time just teach interpretive dance?"

But seeing his perfect application of theoretical principles, watching him use the device with exact precision, feeling that mix of pride and horror that meant I'd taught him too well...

I couldn't help but wonder what he'd do next.

Though I'm sure he wouldn't try anything more dramatic...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 2, Chapter 3: Growing Movement

I was always one step behind. Following reports of mysterious healings, inexplicable phenomena, and suspiciously specific molecular alterations across Galilee. Each time I arrived just after he'd left, finding only excited crowds discussing the latest miracle.

Today I'd tracked him to a small village where he'd reportedly restored sight to a blind man. The witnesses were still debating the theological implications when I arrived.

"He used mud!" one man insisted. "Mixed it himself and applied it to my brother's eyes!"

I groaned. Of course he had. Probably needed the organic material as a transformation base. I'd mentioned that once, theoretically, while discussing molecular biology. Just like I'd theoretically mentioned cellular regeneration. And optical nerve reconstruction. And...

"Did he happen to mention where he was going next?" I asked.

"Toward Capernaum," the man said. "But more importantly, what do you think the mud represents spiritually? Is it a metaphor for—"

"Thanks!" I was already running.

I found Jesus's disciples resting by a well outside town. They gave me their usual suspicious looks - apparently my repeated appearances at miracle sites had not gone unnoticed.

"Let me guess," said Peter, the fisherman who'd appointed himself chief disciple-spokesman, "you're here about the miracles again?"

"Just a quick question about borrowed property—"

"He said you'd come." Peter smiled smugly. "Said to tell you he's keeping everything in working order. Following all the proper protocols."

"Those weren't meant to be actual protocols! They were theoretical safety guidelines for—"

"He also said to remind you about someone named Archimedes? Something about a bathtub?"

I winced. "That was different! I didn't actually mean for him to—"

“And he left you this.” John, the quiet one, handed me a small rolled parchment.

I unrolled it gingerly, expecting the worst. Sure enough, it was a ridiculously detailed set of notes in Jesus’s precise handwriting. Diagrams for improving...well, everything. Explanations on how to store seeds more efficiently, suggestions for constructing sturdier houses—stuff I’d only mentioned in passing, all annotated with sharp little insights that practically glowed on the page.

“He’s not supposed to know all of this,” I muttered, scanning a section titled “Multiplying Loaves: A Hypothesis.” “Or be drafting plans for an irrigation system that, frankly, is far too advanced for this century.”

“He’s just up ahead,” Peter said, looking far too amused. “Last I saw, he was teaching by the lake—though you might want to hurry. He was talking about new ways to handle giant gatherings.”

“Perfect,” I groaned, already picturing the fiasco.

I ran to catch up, guided by the hum of a crowd. Sure enough, I found Jesus in mid-parable, the sun glinting off calm waters behind him. People pressed in, rapt.

“Your lands could become...” he said, sketching a simple shape in the dirt, “a mustard seed that grows beyond expectations…” 

“He’s talking about the kingdom of Heaven!” someone shouted from the middle of the large throng of people. “Simple acts on Earth will give us kingdoms in Heaven!”

He caught sight of me, gave that half-smile, then turned back to the crowd. “Speaking of seeds, did you know that if you replant in intervals—”

“No!” I interrupted, nearly tripping over a child. “No advanced...farming advice today, please.”

The listeners gawked, taken aback. Whispers spread when they recognized me as the person who always appeared and tried to keep Jesus from speaking.

One older fellow in a rough cloak blinked. “Farming? Are you referencing his new method for reorganizing fields?”

Jesus, somehow keeping a straight face, addressed the audience with serene calm. “My friend here is...very enthusiastic about crop rotation. Let’s not overwhelm him with the details of new improvements.”

I forced a tight smile. “Could we maybe speak privately? About borrowed property that someone didn’t ask permission to use?”

“Of course,” he said lightly, ignoring my glare. He turned to the crowd. “We’ll pick up the rest of this later. Just remember: a mustard seed starts small, but with the right knowledge…” He paused, flicking his gaze my way, “…it can transform a whole field.”

As the crowd dispersed to chat among themselves—debating the spiritual significance of “small seeds” vs. “big growth” vs. “some new building technique”—I cornered him.

“About that device,” I hissed, lowering my voice. “You do realize those scribbles you left behind count as major unauthorized revelations about architecture? And who asked you to upgrade my theoretical ideas on feeding large groups? None of that was a request for you to—”

He cut me off with a patient nod. “I appreciated your suggestions. I just...refined them. Don’t worry, I haven’t revealed the really big stuff.”

“Great.” I rubbed my temples. “I’d love your take on big secrets—like that fiasco with the labyrinth or those pyramids people won’t shut up about.”

“You’re the expert,” he teased, arching a brow, “on accidental wonders.” Then he gestured toward the shore. “Anyway, we can talk more once I finish up here. I promised them a little demonstration on better net-weaving…”

“No net-weaving demos!” I said, exasperated. “Every time you show them a weaving pattern, they call it a parable for moral entanglements!”

One disciple passing by gave me a sympathetic nod. “He does this to everyone—whatever you say, he turns it into something bigger.”

I sighed. “Now I get how Upper Management feels whenever I 'improve' things.”

“Oh?” the disciple said. “Are you also the type who tries teaching one simple skill, only to see it become a grand, world-altering movement?”

My mind flitted through a thousand historical fiascos—pottery, labyrinths, Troy. “You could say that,” I answered wryly. “Though usually I’m the one rewriting the rules.”

The disciple offered a shrug. “Well, maybe you understand his perspective now.”

I watched Jesus leading a handful of curious townsfolk to the water’s edge, launching into an anecdote about “gathering fish with minimal strain.” As he spoke, I saw that spark in his eyes—like he already had a brand-new idea. Possibly an idea I shouldn’t have mentioned in the first place.

For the first time in my immortal existence, I recognized the exact frustration Upper Management must have felt every time I turned a simple directive into a grand fiasco.

“No wonder they keep bringing up those dolphins,” I muttered under my breath, trudging after him. “At least they never taught the world to build giant wonders…”

A faint breeze rustled through the reeds. Jesus paused mid-sentence, smiling as he noticed me glowering from behind the crowd. “You okay?” he called out.

“Fine,” I lied, planting my hands on my hips. “Just...let’s keep it simple, please?”

He nodded innocently—too innocently. “Sure. Simple.”

But watching him wave a hand over a net, presumably explaining some new approach I’d once theorized, I stifled a groan. We were one enthusiastic demonstration away from the next big “miracle.”

At least he wasn’t walking on water. Not yet, anyway.

Act 2, Chapter 4: The Feeding Problem

Five thousand people. At least. All gathered on a hillside to hear Jesus teach, and not one of them had thought to pack a lunch. I watched from the back of the crowd as my former student surveyed the logistics problem with suspicious enthusiasm.

"There's a boy here with five loaves and two fish," Andrew reported to his brother Peter. "But what good is that among so many?"

I saw Jesus's eyes light up with that familiar gleam. Saw him reach into his sleeve where my device was undoubtedly hidden. Saw him begin calculations that looked disturbingly similar to my theoretical examples of quantum replication...

"Don't you dare," I muttered, pushing through the crowd. "Mass replication has completely different ethical implications than small-scale transformation!"

But I was too late. He had that look - the same one he'd worn when I'd theoretically mentioned cellular reconstruction. And molecular duplication. And mass-energy conversion principles that were definitely not intended for catering.

The crowd parted as he held up the bread and fish. I caught fragments of his calculations - perfect mass-energy ratios, flawless replication sequences, quantum field alignments that would have made Upper Management proud.

If they weren't going to be absolutely furious about this.

"Have the people sit down," Jesus told his disciples, catching my eye with a mischievous grin. "In groups of fifty. Arranged in..." He sketched a pattern that made me groan.

"Not geometric patterns," I pleaded. "Anything but geometric patterns..."

But the disciples were already organizing the crowd into mathematically perfect formations. I watched in horror as Jesus made adjustments to my device's settings with practiced expertise.

In less time than I had expected, the disciples, bless their helpful hearts, had the crowd seated in suspiciously perfect rows and columns. And Jesus, apparently satisfied, opened the little hamper of bread and fish. I recognized his quiet, purposeful stance from other illusions—but this was no parlor trick. He was really set on “feeding the five thousand.”

“You know,” Philip said conversationally as he walked past, “he mentioned something about you teaching him resource distribution. Something about ‘efficient allocation of limited supplies’?”

“That was an economic theory, not a blueprint for scaling up miracles!” I hissed.

Philip just shrugged. “Regardless, it’s working.” He gestured at the front, where baskets of bread and fish now overflowed, the original tiny loaves somehow replicated into heaping armfuls. The geometric arrangement, of course, made it very easy to pass out food row by row.

I pressed a palm to my forehead. “Please tell me he’s not about to explain how the fish—”

But Jesus, beaming, called out as the last group received rations. “Gather the leftovers too. Don’t waste anything.”

“Twelve baskets,” he announced when it was done, his voice carrying easily across the hillside. “Enough for each tribe.” A few onlookers murmured about the symbolic significance, already weaving theology into the day’s event.

As if reading my mind, Jesus gave me a half-smile and said under his breath, “See? Minimal fuss. Everyone’s fed.”

“Minimal?” I echoed. “That’s mass—” I caught myself, biting back the dreaded words replication technology. “—mass generosity, I guess. But do you realize how fast rumors will spread? People calling it a miracle, referencing signs from above…”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “At least it solved the hunger problem, right? We can’t let people starve, can we?”

I sighed, noticing the hush that had fallen over the now-sated crowd. They looked at Jesus in awe, some whispering about “divine power,” some about “sacred multiplication.” A few asked, “So...how’d he do that with so little bread?”

I recognized that question. The question. The one that leads to unstoppable speculation. Great.

One of the disciples—John—sidled up, curiosity mingling with amusement. “He’s been like this since you taught him those basic lessons, hasn’t he? Takes everything to the next level. Fish. Bread. A hillside of hungry folks.

I closed my eyes, exhaling. “I know. He must be half me—transforming a tiny concept into a grand show. The difference is, I didn’t want to feed thousands of people. I wanted illusions.”

John nodded, setting aside a basket of leftover fish. “Well, you should see how we struggle to follow his simple instructions. He calls them parables; we call them mind-benders. Now he’s doing the same with your lessons, turning them into...well, this.”

I gave a reluctant laugh. “He’s definitely got a knack for it.” My gaze flicked to Jesus, who was carefully putting the hamper away—and slipping the device back up his sleeve.

For a moment, I felt an odd mix of pride and terror. Pride, because he’d executed the plan so seamlessly—terror, because what else might he try once he realized he could scale up “small” solutions?

He signaled the crowd to gather around, presumably for a closing teaching. They pressed in, grateful and full. “You’ve seen how a simple offering can grow,” he began, voice carrying in the breeze. “Even if you think it’s too small—”

I stifled a groan. “Great. Another parable. Let’s hope it doesn’t become a blueprint for cosmic expansions.”

And so the crowd listened, enthralled by his talk of generosity and abundance. None of them were aware that it was me and my improbable device fueling the day’s wonder. Well, mostly him at this point—he’d customized it more than I liked to admit.

Note to self:

Next time, hide the device in triple-locked chest, maybe bury it under a labyrinth.

Because if feeding five thousand is his idea of “no fuss,” I can’t imagine what’s next.

For the first time in my existence, I had a student who took my talent for unintended consequences and improved upon it.

I wasn't sure whether to be proud or terrified.

Probably both.

Though I'm sure he was done creating dramatic miracles...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 2, Chapter 5: Walking on Water

I found him late one night by the Sea of Galilee, hunched over a patch of sand and scribbling suspiciously neat diagrams. The moonlight revealed him tracing lines with a small stick, occasionally glancing at our...contraband device. The same device I’d tried (and failed) to hide from him.

“Whatever you’re planning,” I said, stepping onto the damp shore, “stop planning it.”

Jesus looked up with that earnest expression he always used right before doing something dramatic. “Just reviewing your lessons on fluid movement,” he said mildly, brushing sand from his fingers. “I’m curious about surface tension and buoyancy—”

“Those were theoretical demonstrations!” I hissed, waving a hand at the water. “Not suggestions to...oh, please tell me you’re not considering an aquatic miracle.”

“Think of the possibilities,” he said, half under his breath. “Adjust the water’s—well, you did mention certain illusions for walking across unsettled terrain…”

“Illusions! I specifically said illusions, not real stunts. Did I ever mention Troy? I gave the Greeks a few tips on, oh, gift exchanges—next thing you know, Trojan Horse, empire expansions...Big fiasco.”

He tilted his head. “So you’re saying...think bigger?”

I groaned. “No! That’s the opposite of what I—”

A sudden gust sent waves lapping higher on the shore. Out in the darkness, we saw the faint lanterns of a boat battling the rising chop. The disciples, I realized, must’ve set sail earlier, and a squall was brewing. Their shouts echoed across the water, laced with fear.

Jesus’s eyes flicked to me, then back to the boat. “Seems like they could use a hand,” he said softly.

“You can’t seriously—” I started, but his mind was obviously made up. He tapped the device with quick confidence, that faint hum I dreaded so much.

“Wait—” I lunged to snatch it, but he sidestepped neatly. “We tested that on solid ground. The sea is—”

He merely grinned, stepping onto the first wave-lapped stones as though they were a garden path. “Hey,” he said, “you mentioned illusions. Consider this...an advanced demonstration.”

My heart lurched. “That’s not what I meant by illusions!”

But he was already going forward, his sandals pressing onto the surface of the water without sinking—like stepping on a pane of glass. The wind whipped his robes, and I stood helpless on the shore, unsure whether to panic or laugh at the sheer audacity.

Peter’s terrified shout carried on the wind: “Master, is that you?” The boat pitched wildly. Another disciple hollered about ghosts. Meanwhile, Jesus waved them down calmly, as though strolling across a courtyard.

“Note to self,” I muttered, watching him glide across the waves with improbable ease, “stick to land-based lessons next time.”

Jesus gestured for Peter to try. I cringed. The poor man—he hopped over the rail, took two steps onto the water’s surface...then froze. His eyes went wide, realizing he had no idea how to maintain whatever invisible support Jesus was using. A second later, he plunged waist-deep into the sea with a yelp.

“You have to keep your focus!” Jesus called, grabbing Peter’s arm and hauling him up. “Don’t look at the storm—just trust the—uh—foundation,” he improvised, throwing a glance my way as if to say, Relax, I’ve got this.

“Those weren’t meant to be swimming lessons,” I said under my breath, torn between exasperation and a bizarre sense of pride. I could hear the other disciples whispering about “divine power” and “command over nature,” their awe nearly tangible.

Peter, spluttering, clung to Jesus’s sleeve. “Truly, you must be…” His words faded into a reverent hush as Jesus helped him back into the boat, the wind already quieting. I saw a handful of the men drop to their knees, shock in their eyes.

But Jesus turned it aside with easy modesty. “It’s just applying...a principle,” he insisted quietly, though no one but me likely understood the subtext. “Anyway, let’s get you all safely ashore.”

I half-expected a cosmic backlash or swirling dimensional rifts—some side effect of misusing advanced illusions on this scale. But the night simply settled, the sea calm once more. The disciples gazed at him, equal parts terrified and amazed. In the distance, I caught scattered voices calling it “a miracle,” or “proof he controls the seas.”

I rubbed my temples. “No more advanced water demonstrations, got it?”

Jesus hopped back onto the shore with a faint grin. “Guess I should hold off on that wave-parting idea you mentioned, too?”

“I never mentioned wave-parting!”

He let out a soft laugh. “You kinda did, in that story about navigating large bodies of water—”

“I meant basic boat design!” I groaned.

He just shrugged, stepping past me, the device tucked discreetly into his robe. “Good suggestions, either way.”

I felt a headache forming. “Next time you want to amuse a crowd, could we please do some juggling? Or a harmless card trick?”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, entirely unconvincing. The disciples flocked to him, babbling about signs and wonders, demanding to know how he calmed the storm. He murmured something vague about faith. They lapped it up.

In the moonlit hush, I stood on the shore, waves washing over my sandals, and forced myself to breathe. I’d once taught a bright kid some illusions—now he was rewriting bedtime physics for entire boatfuls of onlookers.

No wonder Upper Management had started pulling out their extra-strong interdimensional coffee. At least they never had to watch me physically walk across the sea.

Note to self:

Next time, specifically mention “do not attempt on large bodies of water.”

Also, hide the device in a labyrinth, then bury the labyrinth under a pyramid.

At least until he conjures a better reason to fish it out again.

URGENT Interdimensional MEMORANDUM

FROM: Field Agent L. Morningstar (Earth Division)

TO: Upper Management, Department of Human Progress

RE: Recent Molecular Manipulation Events - Galilee Sector

Classification: Slightly Concerning (But Under Control!)

Esteemed Management,

Just providing a quick update on some fascinating educational developments in the Galilee region. A few minor incidents have occurred which require context for proper understanding.

Recent Developments

The current situation involves some slight modifications to traditional matter that emerged purely as experimental demonstration. The subject has shown creative interpretation of teaching methods completely on his own. His innovative approach to molecular manipulation developed naturally through educational evolution. The recent case of water transformation during celebration was completely unforeseeable and not related to any device suggestions. Everything remains fine!

Clarifications Regarding Certain Events

I should address several misunderstandings about recent events:

-The wedding transformation that certain observers have noted was simply an educational technique undertaken by a local teacher.

-The mass replication incident was merely a humanitarian approach developed by his own initiative.

-The water walking demonstration evolved from theoretical discussions, not from any outside suggestions.

-The healing demonstrations were completely unforeseeable consequences of normal educational exploration.

Educational Achievements

Despite minor concerns, remarkable advances in demonstration techniques have emerged naturally. The fascinating developments in molecular manipulation reflect organic intellectual evolution. His innovative approaches to quantum theory show impressive scientific intuition. The significant improvement in resource distribution technically enhances community sustainability.

Personal Notes

I truly believe we're seeing organic development of human intellectual potential here. If certain parties appear to be preparing unprecedented acts of molecular transformation involving a potentially borrowed device, I'm sure it will all work out naturally through proper educational channels.

With eternal optimism,

L. Morningstar Field Agent, Earth Division

P.S. - The molecular demonstrations would have happened anyway through natural innovation.

P.P.S. - Any upcoming theological implications are purely hypothetical and probably exaggerated.

P.P.P.S. - Would this be an inappropriate time to request transfer to a less miracle-prone region?

P.P.P.P.S. - The dolphins send their regards and continue to develop naturally without any assistance whatsoever.

Act 3, Chapter 1: Simple Advice

"Look," Jesus said with growing frustration, "it's just basic crop rotation! If you plant the same thing every season, you deplete the soil. But if you alternate between grains and legumes..." He sketched a simple diagram in the dust.

The crowd leaned forward eagerly, hanging on every word. They'd grown larger lately - people traveling from distant villages just to hear him speak. Even now, more were arriving, drawn by whispers of profound wisdom being shared.

"The legumes replenish what the grain depletes," he continued desperately. "It's simple agriculture! Nothing mystical about it!"

"Ah yes!" an elderly rabbi nodded sagely. "The grains represent our spiritual hunger, while the legumes symbolize divine restoration!"

"No! I'm talking about actual plants! Real farming!"

A woman in the crowd burst into tears. "Such profound teaching! The soil represents our souls!"

I watched from the edge of the gathering, remembering all too well how this felt. The growing crowds. The constant misinterpretation. The frustration of trying to teach simple concepts only to have them transformed into something else entirely.

"You know," I said as Jesus slumped beside me afterward, "I once tried teaching someone about efficient irrigation..."

"What happened?"

"Ever heard of Mesopotamia? The Fertile Crescent? The largest garbage dump in the history of mankind?"

He groaned. "At least they built something useful. These people think I'm revealing divine mysteries every time I try explaining basic farming!"

Another group approached, seeking wisdom. Jesus straightened, trying one more time to teach practical skills.

"About planting seeds," he began. "The important thing is soil preparation. If you scatter them on poor ground—"

"The seeds of faith!" someone shouted. "And the soil of our hearts!"

"No! Real seeds! Actual dirt! Look..." He dug his hands into the earth, showing different soil types. "This rocky ground won't support roots. This shallow soil won't retain water. This thorny area will choke the sprouts. But good soil, properly prepared..."

The crowd was weeping now. Several were frantically taking notes. I heard whispers about parables and divine teaching.

"I was trying to help them grow better crops," he muttered to me later. "How did it become a lesson about spiritual growth?"

"If it helps," I offered, "I once suggested some basic record-keeping techniques to the Egyptians..."

"Don't tell me - hieroglyphics?"

"I meant make simple tallies!"

He laughed, then sobered as more people approached. They had that look - the one that meant they'd found deep spiritual significance in his recent gardening advice.

"Master," one began, "your parable about the sower has opened our eyes to—"

"It wasn't a parable! It was farming instruction!"

They nodded reverently. "Yes, yes! Teaching through humble agricultural wisdom! Truly inspired!"

Jesus shot me a look of pure empathy. "Now I understand all your stories about helpful suggestions gone wrong."

"At least they're not building monuments," I said. "Yet."

"Don't even joke about that." He watched the growing crowd with resignation. "I just wanted to help them grow better food..."

A messenger arrived, breathless with excitement. "Teacher! There's a crowd in the next village! They say you reveal divine wisdom through fishing advice?"

"I was explaining net repair techniques!"

"Yes! The nets of divine grace! They're waiting to hear more parables about—"

"Those weren't parables! They were basic maintenance tips!"

But the crowd was already leading him away, eager for more "profound teachings." I watched him try one last time to explain simple concepts, watched every word transform into spiritual revelation, watched his practical advice become divine wisdom...

"Note to self," I muttered, following at a distance, "Maybe stick to theoretical discussions next time?"

But seeing him face the same frustrations I'd known for millennia, watching him deal with the same human tendency to complicate everything, feeling that deep sympathy for someone else finally understanding my eternal problem...

I couldn't help but worry about where this was heading.

Though I'm sure it wouldn't get too out of hand...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 3, Chapter 2: The Breaking Point

I found Jesus hiding in an olive grove, trying to eat lunch in peace. Three times he'd tried giving someone directions to the nearest well, and three times his simple instructions had been interpreted as profound spiritual guidance.

"Turn left at the big cedar tree," he muttered, tearing at his bread with frustration, "has somehow become a metaphor for divine providence."

"That bad?"

He looked up with weary recognition. "Someone wrote down my instructions for fixing a broken water jar. They're calling it the Parable of the Vessel."

"If it helps," I offered, settling beside him in the shade, "I once tried suggested Romans ask the locals to help with building roads..."

"Let me guess…the beginning of Roman slaves?”

"I meant community engagement!"

A rustle in the trees made him tense, but it was just Peter, looking apologetic.

"There's another crowd gathering," Peter reported. "They heard you giving advice about boat repairs..."

"Those were woodworking instructions! Basic carpentry!"

"Yes, well..." Peter shifted uncomfortably. "They're calling it 'Mending the Vessel of Faith' now. And..." He hesitated. "There's a larger group by the lake. They're asking about your fishing demonstration from this morning."

Jesus groaned. "I was explaining net repair techniques! Proper mesh sizes for different fish!"

"The nets of divine grace!" came a distant shout. "Cast wide for sinners!"

"No! Real nets! Actual fish!"

More voices approached through the trees. The crowd had found us. They pressed forward eagerly, several people already taking notes.

"Master! Tell us more about proper fish storage techniques!"

"Those were preservation tips! Salt and sun-drying and..."

"The preservation of our souls! The salt of wisdom! The light of truth!"

Jesus shot me a look of pure commiseration. "I was explaining basic food storage..."

The crowd grew larger. Someone was asking about the spiritual significance of his breakfast preferences. Three scribes were debating the deeper meaning of his directions to the marketplace.

"I just said I like figs! It wasn't a metaphor!"

"The fruit of wisdom!" came the immediate response. "Nourishing the soul!"

A messenger arrived, breathless with excitement. "Teacher! They're calling you the Son of God in Jerusalem! They say you reveal divine mysteries through humble crafts!"

"I was explaining basket weaving!"

"Yes! How we're all woven together in—"

"No! Actual baskets! Physical weaving! Real materials!"

But it was too late. Every protest only convinced them more. Each insistence that he meant something literal transformed instantly into profound spiritual truth.

"I can't do this anymore," he muttered to me later, as we found a new hiding spot behind a conveniently placed bush. "Everything I say becomes a parable. Every piece of advice turns into divine teaching. I tried telling someone their sandal was untied..."

"Let me guess - it became a lesson about spiritual preparation?"

"Three different interpretations! There's a scribe writing a commentary about proper shoe-tying techniques as metaphor for..."

He broke off as another group approached, speaking in hushed, reverent tones about his recent "teachings" on proper goat herding.

"Those were farming tips! Basic animal husbandry!"

"The shepherd of souls," they whispered. "Leading his flock through..."

"They were actual goats!"

John appeared, looking increasingly concerned. "Master...there's a larger group coming. Religious authorities from Jerusalem. They're saying you must be the Son of God, teaching divine wisdom through..."

"Through basic maintenance advice," Jesus finished wearily. "I know."

He looked at me with growing understanding. "Now I get it. Everything you ever tried to teach. Every simple thing that humans complicated. This is exactly what happened, isn't it?"

I thought about walls and roads and pyramids. About labyrinths and lighthouses and every other time I'd tried helping humans.

"More often than you'd think," I admitted. "Though usually my mistakes involve more geometric patterns."

"At least they're not building monuments," he said. Then, seeing my expression: "Sorry. Bad example."

The crowd had found us again. They pressed forward eagerly, hanging on every word, ready to transform the simplest statement into profound truth.

"Master! Share more wisdom about proper grain storage!"

"Those were just preservation techniques! Basic—"

"The preservation of divine wisdom! The storing up of spiritual—"

Jesus slumped against the olive tree. "I really just wanted to help them store grain..."

I watched him face another crowd, another misunderstanding, another simple lesson about to become divine revelation.

For the first time in my existence, I actually felt grateful for Upper Management's supervision. At least someone had been there to commiserate about helpful suggestions gone wrong.

No wonder they drank so much interdimensional coffee.

Act 3, Chapter 3: The Judas Question

I found Judas sitting alone by the temple treasury, watching the crowds drop coins into the collection boxes. He had that look of someone working through a difficult problem - the same expression I'd seen on countless faces right before my helpful suggestions went horribly wrong.

"Troubled thoughts?" I asked, settling beside him.

He started, then relaxed slightly. "Just...thinking. About truth. About questioning things."

I should have walked away. Should have remembered what happened every time I tried helping humans think through problems. Should have learned my lesson about logical suggestions.

Instead, I said: "You know, questioning is natural. Healthy even. Even if the consequences end up being less than ideal. The careful examination of—"

"Exactly!" His eyes lit up with that dangerous gleam of understanding I'd seen too often. "We should question everything, shouldn't we? Even the most respected teachings?"

"Well, I meant reasonable inquiry into—"

"Like how everyone's taking simple advice and turning it into divine wisdom?" He leaned forward intently. "You've noticed it too, haven't you? How they transform everything he says into spiritual truth?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "That's not quite what I—"

"He tries to teach basic skills, and they call him Son of God! He gives practical advice, and they worship him!" Judas stood, pacing now. "Someone needs to question this. To challenge it. To expose—"

"I meant academic questioning! Theoretical discourse! Not—"

But he was already making plans, that familiar gleam growing stronger. "You're right. Someone has to reveal the truth. To show everyone he's just a teacher, not a divine figure. To prove..."

"Those were philosophical suggestions! Not practical—"

"Thank you," he said suddenly, gripping my arm. "You've helped me see clearly. What needs to be done."

"No! I meant...Maybe we should discuss this more carefully..."

But he was already hurrying away, that determined look I'd seen too often on faces throughout history. The same expression people wore right before turning my simple suggestions into world-changing disasters.

"Note to self," I muttered, watching him disappear into the temple crowds, "Maybe stick to teaching juggling next time?"

I found Jesus in the garden later, looking more tired than usual. The crowds had finally thinned, leaving him a moment of peace.

"Rough day?" I asked.

"Someone asked directions to the marketplace. It's apparently now a parable about the path to salvation."

"About that..." I shifted uncomfortably. "I may have accidentally suggested something to Judas about questioning things..."

He looked up sharply. "What kind of something?"

"Just...philosophical inquiry? Academic skepticism? The importance of examining evidence..."

"Like that time you suggested logical thinking to the Greeks?"

"I meant basic reasoning! Not an entire philosophical movement!"

He sighed, but with understanding rather than judgment. “He got that look, didn't he? The one that means someone's about to take a simple suggestion and turn it into something else entirely?"

"You know that look?"

"I see it every time I try teaching basic crafts." He managed a weak smile. "Right before they transform it into divine wisdom."

A messenger arrived, breathless with excitement. "Master! They're calling you the Living Word in Jerusalem! They say even your directions to the well contain sacred truth!"

"I just meant turn left at the big tree!"

"Yes! The tree of knowledge! The left hand of judgment!"

Jesus shot me a look of perfect comprehension. "Now I truly understand how all your helpful suggestions went wrong."

I watched Judas in the distance, saw him talking intensely with temple authorities. Saw that familiar gleam of misunderstood purpose in his eyes.

"About Judas..." I started.

"Let me guess - you suggested careful examination of evidence, and he's turning it into something else entirely?"

"Like you with the fishing advice?"

"Exactly." He smiled sadly. "Everything we try to teach becomes something else, doesn't it?"

I thought about walls and wheels and the creation of Buddhism. About every simple suggestion transformed into something world-changing.

"More often than you'd think," I admitted. "Though usually my mistakes don't involve quite so many theological implications."

"No, just geometric patterns that reshape civilization."

"I meant make efficient farming layouts!"

We watched Judas disappear into the temple, that determined look still on his face. Watched the crowds gather again, ready to transform the simplest statement into profound truth.

"Note to self," I whispered, as the next wave of wisdom-seekers approached, "Maybe stop giving advice entirely?"

But seeing Jesus face another crowd, another misunderstanding, another simple lesson about to become divine revelation...

I couldn't help but worry that my suggestion to Judas might create bigger problems than usual.

Though I'm sure he wouldn't take it too far...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 3, Chapter 4: The Opposition

The disciples were watching me suspiciously again. They'd noticed my repeated attempts to talk to Jesus about leaving, about ending this before it got worse. About how simple farming advice shouldn't lead to quite this much religious fervor.

"He's trying to stop the teaching," I heard them whisper. "To prevent the divine wisdom from spreading."

"I'm trying to prevent basic crafting instructions from becoming sacred texts!"

But they were already seeing opposition in every suggestion. The same look humans always got right before turning my helpful advice into something else entirely.

I found Peter by the temple gates, that dangerous gleam growing in his eyes.

"You're always there," he said accusingly. "Every time he teaches. Always trying to make him stop."

"I'm trying to help him explain literal fishing techniques! Actual boat repair! Real—"

"Opposing the divine message! Testing the holy wisdom!"

"Those were carpentry lessons! Basic woodworking!"

But the story was already spreading. My attempts to help Jesus escape the crowds becoming tales of spiritual warfare. My suggestions about practical teaching techniques transforming into opposition of divine purpose.

"You know," I tried telling John, "I once suggested some basic architectural principles..."

"The tower of Babel?" He crossed his arms. "We know who you are, Lucifer! What you represent."

"I meant make a simple building! Not—"

But they were already writing it down. My helpful suggestions becoming sinister temptations. My practical advice turning into spiritual opposition.

I found Jesus in the garden, looking more exhausted than ever.

"Your disciples are turning me into some kind of adversary figure," I said, settling beside him.

"Like that time you suggested creating a Minotaur to eat people in a maze?"

"I meant giving a kind prince a place to relax! Not create the Labyrinth!"

He smiled wearily. "At least you're usually opposing divine wisdom through practical suggestions. I can't even give directions anymore without creating new spiritual teachings."

A group of priests passed, arguing about the profound implications of his recent advice about proper sandal-tying techniques.

"For the last time," he called after them, "it was just about actual shoes!"

"The shoes of preparation!" came the immediate response. "Walking the path of righteousness!"

More disciples approached, eyeing me with growing suspicion. My every attempt to help Jesus escape the fame was becoming evidence of spiritual opposition.

"He seeks to challenge the divine wisdom," they whispered.

"I'm trying to let him teach actual crafts! Real skills! Physical—"

"The eternal adversary! Testing holy truth!"

Jesus shot me a look of pure sympathy. "Get behind me. Maybe if they don’t see you..."

"He commands Lucifer to get behind him!" Matthew whispered in awe.

I shook my head wearily as I went to stand behind my student.  I could already see the stories forming. My suggestions about practical teaching becoming tales of temptation. My attempts to help transformed into tests of faith.

"Note to self," I muttered, as another group of disciples hurried past, whispering about spiritual warfare, "Maybe stick to theoretical discussions next time?"

A messenger arrived, breathless with excitement. "Master! They're debating the divine significance of your breakfast preferences in Jerusalem!"

"I just said I like figs!"

"The fruit of wisdom! The adversary tried to prevent you from sharing such profound truth!"

Jesus turned to me with a look of perfect comprehension. "How do you manage to keep trying to help after all of these years of misunderstanding?"

"Maybe I just care too much," I admitted. "Though usually I don't become the villain in religious mythology."

"No, just the accidental creator of architectural wonders."

"I meant make simple structures!"

But watching the disciples share stories about my opposition, seeing my helpful suggestions become spiritual warfare, feeling that growing certainty that this was getting out of hand...

I couldn't help but worry that this might create bigger problems than usual.

Though I'm sure they wouldn't take it too far...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 3, Chapter 5: The Understanding

The garden was quiet in the pre-dawn darkness. For once, no crowds followed Jesus here - though that probably had something to do with Judas currently organizing temple authorities. My helpful suggestion about questioning things had worked exactly as well as all my other helpful suggestions throughout history.

"You know," Jesus said softly, "I finally understand why you look so tired all the time."

We sat beneath an ancient olive tree, watching the eastern sky slowly brighten. The device hummed quietly in his sleeve - he'd gotten quite good at keeping it hidden.

"Humans do tend to complicate things," I admitted.

"It's not just that." He traced patterns in the dirt - not geometric ones, thankfully. "It's the weight of it. Knowing that every simple thing you try to teach will become something else entirely. Something bigger. Something you never intended..."

"Like suggesting efficient farming patterns?"

"Like trying to explain basic crafts." He smiled sadly. "Every practical lesson becoming divine wisdom. Every simple instruction turning into sacred text."

A cool breeze stirred the olive branches. Somewhere in the city, temple guards were gathering. Judas was explaining his logical conclusions about questioning authority.

He reached into his pocket and finally returned my device to me 

“Here,” he said with a familiar grin. “I  think it’s time you had your borrowed property returned to you.”

I turned it over in my hands, enjoying its familiar curves like a long-lost friend.

"I could help, you know," I said quickly. "The device has quantum superposition capabilities. We could relocate you instantly, somewhere far from here. Maybe that nice village in India where I accidentally started—"

"Buddhism?" His eyes danced with familiar mischief despite everything. "You really do have a habit of this, don't you?"

"I meant to teach meditation techniques!"

He laughed softly, then grew serious. "It has to happen this way."

"No, it doesn't! Look, I've made so many mistakes trying to help humans, but this...this is different. This is..."

"Part of something bigger?" He gave me that knowing look I'd seen so many times. "Like your desire to feed a hungry child becoming part of something bigger?"

"Those were farming suggestions! Not..." I stopped. Counted to ten. And released a slow breath. "Please. Let me help. One last time." 

The sky grew lighter. Soon the temple guards would arrive, led by Judas's carefully reasoned conclusions about authority and truth.

"You have helped," Jesus said quietly. "More than you know. Everything you taught me - the device, the principles behind it, even the way humans transform simple things into something more..." He smiled. "It all matters. Just not the way you intended."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Torches appeared at the garden entrance. The guards were coming. Judas in the lead, that familiar gleam of misunderstood purpose in his eyes.

"Promise me something?" Jesus said suddenly.

"Anything."

"Don't try to stop what's coming. No matter what. Promise?"

I thought about walls and roads and pyramids. About every helpful suggestion gone wrong through history. About quantum superposition and how easily I could transport him away...

"I promise," I said reluctantly.

He squeezed my shoulder, then stood to face the approaching guards. I slipped back into the shadows, my hand already reaching for the device I knew could save him...

But I'd promised.

I kept my promise through the trial. Through the crowds shouting for crucifixion. Through every moment I could have used the device to end it all.

Until I couldn't watch anymore.

I had to help. He didn’t understand how important this moment was. To these people. 

To me. 

I pushed through the crowd at Golgotha, device humming to life. Quantum superposition calculations already running. One simple transportation and...

He caught my eye through the press of people. Shook his head slightly. Smiled that particular smile that meant he knew exactly what I was thinking.

A beam of sunlight pierced the gathering clouds, landing on him with impossible precision. And in that moment I felt an unfamiliar disruption in the quantum fields, the very foundation of reality in this universe.

And then, with a final breath, he was gone.

Not physically, of course, but...

I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain of watching him pass too much for me.

I opened my eyes to a feeling of emptiness. To a silence from the crowd. To the weight of every helpful suggestion gone wrong through history, but none quite like this.

"Note to self," I whispered to the darkness, "Maybe stop trying to help entirely?"

But watching the crowds disperse, seeing the seeds of something world-changing begin to grow, feeling that familiar certainty that this was bigger than any of my previous mistakes...

I couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.

Though I'm sure it wouldn't be too surprising...

I really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Act 3, Chapter 6: The Legacy Forms

I found him three days later, sitting on the stone that had sealed his tomb. That familiar smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"How?" I demanded. "Did you modify my device? Adjust the quantum resurrection protocols? Because I've been checking, and it's been in my pocket the whole time, so you couldn't have..."

"Has it?" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

I reached into my pocket. Pulled out the device. Perfectly intact. Completely unmodified. Exactly as it had been.

"But...but then how did you...?"

He stood, brushing dust from his clothes. "Some things," he said with that particular smile that meant I was missing something obvious, "are bigger than quantum mechanics."

"That's not possible! Everything has a scientific explanation! Even if humans transform it into something else, there's always a logical reason behind..."

He pulled me into a hug, stopping my scientific protests. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For all the lessons. The device. Everything."

"But I don't understand! The disruption...the resurrection...how did you...?"

He stepped back, that mischievous gleam dancing in his eyes. Reached into his pocket. Pulled out...

Nothing.

But the gesture. That knowing grin. The perfect mimicry of every sleight-of-hand trick I'd taught him...

"Did you just..." I started.

But he was gone. Vanished like I'd shown him in those first magic lessons. Like I'd taught him with the device. Like...

"Note to self," I muttered to the empty tomb, "Maybe some things aren't meant to be explained?"

I watched it all unfold over the centuries. Simple fishing advice becoming profound parables. Basic crafting instructions transforming into divine wisdom. Every practical lesson growing into something else entirely.

They built churches using geometric patterns I really shouldn't have mentioned. Created theological systems from mathematical principles I definitely hadn't intended to teach. Spread the stories across continents, each simple demonstration becoming something bigger.

And me? My helpful suggestions about questioning authority? My attempts to prevent divine interpretation of basic skills? My final desperate offer to save him?

Became part of the story too. The eternal adversary, testing divine wisdom. The tempter, opposing sacred truth. The perfect narrative opposition to every simple teaching transformed into something more.

I received the final memo on a quiet morning, watching a crowd listen to one of his disciples, repeating his parables about simple agricultural techniques.

FINAL JUDGMENT AND ASSESSMENT

FROM: Upper Management, Department of Cosmic Order 

TO: Former Field Agent L. Morningstar 

RE: Permanent Earthly Assignment & Unexplained Energy Surge

Agent L,

Given your recent achievements in:

Accidentally starting major religion

Becoming a spiritual adversary figure

Still using geometric patterns

Teaching quantum mechanics to prophets

Whatever actually happened with that resurrection (We KNOW you did something. We just can't prove it.)

And noting certain anomalous events:

Unprecedented energy surge at crucifixion site

Source signature unlike anything in our records

Power levels exceeding known quantum limitations

Directed specifically at your location

Followed by highly suspicious three-day quantum anomaly

Which you absolutely must explain to us (Seriously. We've never seen readings like these.)

We hereby re-confirm your assignment to: PERMANENT EARTH DUTY

Duration: Until humans stop transforming your help into world-changing movements

Current estimate: End of time

However, we might consider reducing your sentence by several centuries if you could clarify:

The exact nature of that energy surge

Why our instruments can't identify its source

How it bypassed all known physical laws

What exactly happened during those three days

Why you keep smiling when we ask about this

Regards, Upper Management

P.S. - Don't think we didn't notice those church architectural patterns
P.P.S. - Or the theological geometry
P.P.P.S. - Or that suspicious quantum anomaly that our best scientists still can't explain
P.P.P.P.S. - And why do all our inquiries about the energy source get redirected to a carpenter's workshop?
P.P.P.P.P.S. - JUST. STOP. HELPING.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. - But seriously, about that energy surge...

Thank you!

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this journal documenting L’s optimistic interference with humanity.

If you enjoyed this adventure in L's eternal exile on Earth, I'd be tremendously grateful if you'd take a moment to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or your preferred platform.

Your honest feedback helps other readers discover these stories and supports my work as an author.

Want more of L's misadventures?

FREE BONUS STORY: Sign up for L's newsletter and receive an exclusive Lucifer Journals adventure: "The Star Wars Problem" - where L inspires one of the greatest Hollywood franchises by sharing stories of another galaxy far, far away...[Link Here]

Complete Volume List
(of the journals that have currently been found)

(Each volume is a stand-alone adventure in catastrophic helpfulness. Upper Management recommends reading the Origin Story at some point, but otherwise, read them in any order!)

- Available as of April 5, 2025 -

THE BEGINNING OF ALL PROBLEMS [LINK] (The Origin Story)

Mesopotamia, 13,000 BCE

All Lucifer wanted was to help one hungry little girl have enough to eat. How was he supposed to know that simple agricultural advice would create property ownership, armies, and organized religion? Some patterns are just too perfect to ignore.

THE GENGHIS KHAN PROBLEM [LINK]

Mongolian Steppes, 1180 CE

All Lucifer wanted was to teach a starving boy to shoot straight. How was he supposed to know that simple archery lessons would transform Temujin into history's greatest conqueror? Some patterns are just too perfect to break.

THE TROJAN WAR PROBLEM [LINK]

Anatolian Coast, 1200 BCE

All Lucifer wanted was to offer Prince Paris advice about following his heart. How was he supposed to know a casual suggestion about love would lead to the abduction of Helen and a decade-long war? Some gifts are just too perfect to refuse.

THE AZTEC PROBLEM [LINK]

Tenochtitlan, 1519 CE

All Lucifer wanted was to appreciate a promising civilization. How was he supposed to know his casual observations would make sacrifices more efficient and help conquistadors destroy the empire? Some timing is just too perfect to overcome.

THE ROMEO AND JULIET PROBLEM [LINK]

London, England, 1599 CE

All Lucifer wanted was to inspire a talented young playwright. How was he supposed to know his suggestions would create the perfect conditions for history's most famous tragedy? Some stories are just too perfect not to write down.

THE JESUS PROBLEM [LINK]

Bethlehem, 4 BCE

All Lucifer wanted was to help a young couple in trouble. How was he supposed to know that simple magic tricks and physics lessons would transform a carpenter's son into the messiah? Some miracles are just too perfect to explain away.

COMING SOON

THE ROMAN PROBLEM

Rome, 750 BCE

All Lucifer wanted was to suggest some basic organizational improvements. How was he supposed to know that simple tips about city planning would create history's most efficient empire of conquest? Some systems are just too perfect to contain.

(Release Date, May 3, 2025)

THE HAMLET PROBLEM

Elsinore Castle, Denmark, 1599 CE

All Lucifer wanted was to understand a suspicious royal death. How was he supposed to know his investigation with Shakespeare would create perfect tragic timing for a prince's revenge? Some plays are just too perfect to rewrite.

(Release Date, May 10, 2025)

THE MINOTAUR PROBLEM

Knossos, Crete, 1500 BC

All Lucifer wanted was to help a prince with his frightening appearance. How was he supposed to know that a simple ceremonial mask would create a legendary monster and the infamous labyrinth? Some identities are just too perfect to disguise.

(Release Date, May 24, 2025)

THE ALEXANDRIA PROBLEM

Alexandria, 295 BCE

All Lucifer wanted was to preserve humanity's knowledge. How was he supposed to know his helpful suggestions would create history's most efficient library fire? Some preservation methods are just too perfect to extinguish.

(Release Date, May 31, 2025)

About the Author

Hi!

I’m Marc Finks.

I'm a teacher, father, and storyteller fascinated by how big ideas shape little moments (and vice versa!). My work spans from whimsical children's tales to tongue-in-cheek historical parodies—always with a spark of adventure.

For Young Readers: The Capybara Adventure Series, where lovable siblings Carlos and Camila explore nature, solve fun mysteries, and learn about caring for our planet. Aimed at Grade 3-5 readers, these lighthearted journeys introduce curiosity, empathy, and environmental themes in every chapter.

For Adventure Lovers of All Ages: My comedic passion project The Lucifer Journals, a 70-volume saga in which a well-meaning cosmic observer (a.k.a. Lucifer) accidentally triggers humanity's major turning points—agriculture, armies, organized religion—often with chaotic and hilarious results.

Each volume reimagines how human history might unfold if one well-intentioned meddler just couldn't keep his hands off the timeline.

I know that I am the author of these books, but when I re-read them, I think to myself that -

1)Lucifer feels very familiar and this character should have always existed.

2)These stories feel familiar and the snarky take on history should have always existed as well.

I have always loved historical fiction books. I remember reading all of the books I could find about Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull in my elementary school library - Nall Hills Elementary School! (Demolished, but forever remembered).

And then, The River God by Wilber Smith, the Genghis Khan series, an ancient England story by Jack Whyte…The list goes on and on.

Oh - Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, which brought so many of these historical personages to life!

And, hopefully, with these books, I can introduce people to actual historical events and/or historical people with authentic stories about what really happened…with a slight twist of POV.

I hope you enjoy them.

Feel free to contact me, or L, with any ideas for future stories that you hope to see.

- Marc Finks, April 4, 2025