11 people all wake up and sigh. They trundle through the day with a definite feeling of dread, as though they had a root canal scheduled after work. They each live completely seperate lives, but have a very significant commonality, a commonality that is slowly but surely destroying their souls: they each have the same prof for the same three hour class every Monday.
As they walk into the class, they greet each other with silent eye contact that demonstrates that that are companions in arms. They will somehow see each other through this violently frustrating and deeply unsatisfying lecture that they were hoping would enlighten them and bring them new questions, but which only leaves them haggard and wanting to drink heavily.
He walks in, a likeable man who cannot be respected for his mind in a situation where people have paid dearly for someone whose mind they can respect. One of the 11 people absently wonders if perhaps there had only been 12 in the class, perhaps He would have been a better teacher. Maybe 12 followers is the magic number to make a person great and it was this that made Jesus a wise man rather than any innate qualities on his part.
A plan starts to hatch in the student's mind. An evil plan. One of world domination and line-ups of people waiting to pleasure her. If only 12 people could be rounded up, she starts to think of people whose phone numbers she has memorized...oh who shall be the lucky 12?