The number you have reached is Divine.

The last payphone in the world was located on the corner of Rose and Hernandez somewhere in the southwestern United States. It was oddly well-maintained for such an outdated piece of technology, complete with corkscrew style silver cord. But this wasn't what made it special.

No, what made it special was that the last payphone in the world, on the corner of Rose and Hernandez, was a direct connection to God.

Miguel didn't know this when he picked up the receiver of course, fumbling about in one pocket for the right amount of change. He inserted his quarters and held the phone to his ear as he punched for the operator, drumming his fingers on top of the aluminum casing. Nearby, his small black truck was still leaking smoke from the hood. He counted two rings before someone picked up on the other side. The stranger spoke before he could open his mouth.

"Go to church."

"Hello?"

"Go to church." It wasn't a command, but a very polite suggestion. The voice was deep and soothing, one he was inclined to listen to, but Miguel didn't need religion right now.

"Listen, sir, I need some directions. Is there a mechanic shop nearby?"

"Go to church." The voice spoke a third time and the line went dead.

Miguel lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the shiny black receiver in confusion before hooking it back, already reaching into his pockets for the change he knew wasn't there. He sighed and turned around.

There was a church on the other side of the street.

He rocked on his heels, hands still in his pockets and shrugged. May as well. He jogged across the street and up the five stairs of the small chapel. The dark wooden doors were inlaid with stained glass windows in abstract patterns. He laid a hand on the knob and turned, pulling the right door wide.

The church opened directly to the main atrium. He counted some ten rows of pews lined up in two columns as he made his way down the aisle where the local priest was currently in conversation with a man in a mechanic uniform.