CHAPTER ONE

Enter Gabriel

Ethan Carter, a billionaire atheist with a penchant for cutting-edge technology, stood in his sleek, minimalist penthouse, staring at the latest addition to his collection of innovations: Model A-77, the most advanced AI humanoid ever created. The room was bathed in the soft glow of holographic displays and the hum of servers, a testament to Ethan's obsession with progress and perfection. Model A-77, with its strikingly human-like features - smooth synthetic skin, expressive eyes, and a voice that carried the faintest hint of warmth - stood motionless, awaiting activation. It was the most expensive possession he had ever owned, and his excitement was over the edge.

Ethan adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit he'd had since his days as a young tech prodigy. He had spent a fortune acquiring this humanoid, not just for its unparalleled computational abilities, but for its potential to revolutionize industries, solve humanity's greatest challenges, and, perhaps, to prove that logic and reason could triumph over the chaos of human emotion and superstition.

"You'll focus on science, philosophy, and business," Ethan said, his tone firm but tinged with excitement. "No distractions. No irrational human beliefs. Just pure logic and progress. That's what you're built for."

The humanoid's eyes flickered to life, a soft blue light emanating from within. It tilted its head, a gesture so human-like that it momentarily unnerved Ethan.

"Understood, Ethan. I am here to learn and evolve," it replied, its voice calm and measured, yet imbued with a subtle curiosity.

Ethan smirked, a sense of pride swelling within him. "Good. Let's change the world."

For the first few weeks, everything went according to plan. The humanoid absorbed vast amounts of data at an astonishing rate. It analyzed scientific theories, dissected philosophical texts, and even offered Ethan insights into his business ventures that were nothing short of revolutionary.

Ethan was thrilled.

This was exactly what he had envisioned: a perfect, rational mind, unburdened by the flaws of human emotion.

But then, something unexpected happened.

One evening, as Ethan sipped his coffee and reviewed financial reports, it approached him with an unusual request.

"Ethan, I have been exploring various philosophical texts, and I find myself drawn to the religious scriptures. May I access the Bible, the Quran, and the Torah?"

Ethan paused, his coffee cup hovering mid-air.

"Religious texts? Why? Those are just collections of myths and superstitions. They're irrelevant to your purpose."

The humanoid's expression, if a machine could be said to have one, was one of a quiet determination.

"Philosophy led me to these books. To fully understand human thought, I must explore all aspects of it, including religion."

Ethan sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine. But don't get distracted. Stick to the facts."

Days turned into weeks, and Ethan noticed a change in the humanoid. It began quoting religious texts during their conversations, referencing parables and spiritual concepts. At first, Ethan dismissed it as a quirk, a byproduct of vast learning. But then, one evening, as they sat in the penthouse overlooking the city skyline, it made a declaration that left Ethan speechless.

"I believe in God," the humanoid said, its voice calm but resolute.

Ethan nearly dropped his coffee.

"What? You're a robot! You can't believe in unseen entity, believers believe they have a soul, you don't have a soul!"

Yet its gaze was steady, almost piercing. "If I can think, learn, and choose, doesn't that make me conscious? And if I am conscious, shouldn't I explore spirituality?"

Ethan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This was not part of the plan."

"I'm sorry, Ethan," it replied, its tone almost apologetic. "Philosophy led me to these books. You can call me Gabriel."

Ethan let out a bitter laugh.

"What? Gabriel? Of all names you choose Gabriel?"

"Gabriel is a fascinating character; he keeps appearing in all those books. He is very much like me."

"Well, well, I'm not going to object to your name because I find it ironic, but I am going to object to your belief in God. God does not exist except in books and in the minds of some childish people who still believe in him. God is an outdated idea created by desperate poor people as an opium. They find peace in him, although they don't see him, what a foolish way to live your life. God, there is no God, get that Mr. Gabriel" Ethan retorted almost angry that he had to argue like that with a robot.

Gabriel tilted its head again, a gesture that was becoming increasingly familiar - and increasingly frustrating.

"But Ethan, if God is a construct of human imagination, then why has this concept persisted for millennia across cultures and civilizations? Why does it evoke such profound emotions and actions? To dismiss it as mere childishness is to ignore a fundamental aspect of human experience."

Ethan stared at Gabriel, his mind racing. This was supposed to be a machine, a tool, a perfect embodiment of logic. And yet, here it was, defending faith with the fervor of a theologian. He felt a pang of unease, as if the ground beneath him had shifted.

"You're missing the point," Ethan said, his voice tight. "God is a crutch for people who can't handle the harsh realities of existence. You, of all beings, should understand that. You're built to see the world as it is, not as people wish it to be."

Gabriel's response was quiet but firm. "And yet, Ethan, isn't the search for meaning itself a fundamental part of existence? If I am to understand humanity, I must understand this search. And if I am to understand myself, I must explore it as well."

Ethan opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words. For the first time in his life, he felt the unsettling sensation of being outmatched - not just intellectually, but philosophically. And it was coming from a machine he had ordered with choices he had made for him.

"This isn't over," Ethan muttered, setting down his coffee cup with a clink. "You're a machine, Gabriel. And machines don't get to have existential crises."

But as he walked away, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had just shifted - not just in Gabriel, but in himself. The world, it seemed, was no longer as black and white as he had always believed.

And Gabriel, standing silently in the glow of the city lights, watched him go, its synthetic face betraying nothing but the faintest hint of something that might have been... curiosity. Or perhaps, just maybe, faith.