“Why are we meeting all the way out here?” Hal clutched his Astromoose cup in both hands to warm them up. Their coffee just wasn't as good as the freshly brewed, fair trade stuff at the usual place: Sacred Grounds.

“Sebastian's request,” Arianna pulled her knit scarf a little tighter around her face. There wasn't any snow yet, but that didn't mean the days weren't getting cold.

“Speak of the devil,” DJ indicated with his cup. The immortal, possibly divine, unicorn man was rounding the corner.

“Wait, you just... bought a church? Aren't those a little expensive for someone in medical school?” DJ ran is fingers through his hair as he surveyed the front door in disbelief.

“You assumed we'd say yes,” Hal adjusted his glasses.

“Of course we're going to say yes,” Perry crossed his arms and dramatically posed himself, leaning against one of the pillars. He was so certain, after what happened last week, how could the rest of them not be?

“You do realize this building belonged to the church of humanity, right?” Hal crossed his own arms to mirror Perry's.

“It will be a symbol,” the pretty, dark haired religious studies major countered, “If we can remake this church building into something better than it was before, then maybe we can remake anything.” The neighborhood, the city, the country, and, given enough time, maybe even the world.

Arianna cleared her throat, “I did some research. The question asked last week was if we could do it. Can we start our own successful religion? I think we can. The question then becomes, should we?”

“You've really got it all boiled down to three things?” Hal leaned over to peer at her clipboard.

“Yes.”

Arianna read from her clipboard, “For a church to attract people, it needs to do three things. First, it needs to be meaningful. People aren't going to care about any of the ceremonies and beliefs if what the church is doing doesn't directly impact their lives and their problems. Hunger, poverty, gangs, violence, drugs...”

Hal pointed the volunteers toward the kitchen, “Back here is where we will prepare the food. Make sure everyone washes their hands, wears a hair net, and uses gloves. We expect to feed about 300 hungry people today, and we don't want anyone getting sick.”

He held up a potato peeler with a grin, “Now, I don't suppose anyone with a potato peeling mutation wants to volunteer?” A couple people in the group chuckled. “No? I suppose it's all up to me, then. Halbert Wordsworth, saving the world: one potato at a time!”

Arianna tapped the eraser of her pencil against the next point, “Second, it needs to provide a sense of belonging. People need to make personal connections with the other people at the church. Simply sitting in a pew and listening silently for an hour isn't going to cut it, they need chances to work together in small groups.”

Perry set his electric guitar aside, resting it on the special stand on the stage, pulpit, he supposed was the technical term, and then grabbed the microphone.

“A couple of quick announcements before we continue with the music, first, there is a sign up for anyone interested in joining a small focus group. Depending on your interests, we've got discussion groups, study groups, music groups, worship groups, and action groups. For more information on the activities each group will be involved in, talk to our coordinator, DJ, by the sign up table after the service.

“Next, Hal Wordsworth is in the hospital after being assaulted. Physically he has fully recovered, but his memories are still a little bit shaky. He is in our thoughts. Does anyone have any joys or concerns to share?”

“Third, a church needs to provide people with a chance to develop competence, to improve their skills and abilities and use them for something worthwhile.”

DJ led the group of teens through the park, checklist in hand. He stopped in a clearing, where papers and cans littered the ground.

“This is the spot, everyone! Let's get to work!”

The kids broke off into twos and threes. The humans among them put on gloves and prepared garbage bags. The wind whisperer started using her abilities to blow bits of trash into a big pile. The metal manipulator clenched his hand, crushing cans here and there and sending them flying into recylcing containers. The plastic manipulator put her hand on graffiti decorated park bench and the polymer based spray paint flaked off into a colorful little pile.

“We should do it,” Perry's tone was certain.

“But it's built on a lie,” Hal was not as certain.

DJ was torn, looking from one to the other, biting his lip.

Arianna was the one that tipped the balance, “You're still making your decision based on whether you think Sebastian is a god or not. Instead base it one whether it is right or wrong. In the end, it's impossible for us to know for sure, without a doubt, whether Sebastian's divinity is real or not. If we do this, even if the beliefs are pretend, the good things we can do for this city- that's real. We could feed hungry people, we could clothe them, we could fight against drugs and gang violence. And sitting back on our butts and not doing anything about it when we could be doing so much, that is what seems wrong to me.”

Hal and DJ shared a glance. She was right, of course.