beginnings of the plunge - not complete

There were no bags to pack when Arch-Angel Michael descended again from heaven to more closely experience humanity and their coping mechanisms for free will. Each trip had brought him an opulence of insight and new emotions, though he'd kept his visits short.

Choice was something angels had to overcome, a collective disability. It had been centuries since God had simply stopped speaking to His angels. When they implored Him for some direction, He smiled lovingly, wordlessly. He touched their faces and sat with His long-time companions in silence. When His every word was their command, how else could He give His servants free will? There was some disquietude. Freedom is seldom comfortable at first.

That was when angels began to walk among humans as students instead of messengers. Humans had enjoyed free will for longer than human history could describe. While they collectively did not always make the best choices, humanity possessed a tremendous capacity for joy, love, and learning. They had integrated freedom as part of every action, if not every breath. Even those in cultures or nations where choices were restricted could still choose if they were willing to accept the dire consequences for their illicit actions.

Also, because God would not command humans with his voice, He still spoke to them. The angels craved His guidance, even if they had to get it second hand.

Michael chose his form: this time a young high-school student in the United States, to begin this human life as "Michael Smith". Michael wasn't terrific at lying. He had not really managed to do so successfully even once. When asked where he'd come from and who he was, he had always answered truthfully. He'd learned on previous visits that the older the form he took, the less complicated his identity would be. Humans had little difficulty with an old man insisting he was the Arch Angel Michael. He'd visited as an old man many times. Excepting the time he'd taken up residence next door to a house of Satanists who took the matter of his name and title rather personally, he was mostly ignored. If one was observing humanity, ignored was a perfect state.

Though honesty about Michael's background had been mostly uncomplicated as an old man, middle-aged men who claimed to be angels at all were another story. If his personal history came up at all, it was a conversation killer. Even if he wasn't terribly specific about which angel he was, his companion would often change seats or even cars on the train. Middle-aged Michael had been a lonely existence. By then he'd been aiming for a more interactive learning experience. He feared that he'd have to lie about who he was if he wanted to pursue an active role in human life.

This time he wasn't going for uncomplicated. He wanted public education and a job. He submitted his adolescence to foster care, thinking it would be easier than answering questions about his origins. "I suffered a fall," he said. The authorities assumed he had a head injury - especially if he gave them details.