Chapter 10: Curtain Up...

Psalm 111: 1-10

“Praise The LORD! I will praise the LORD with my whole heart, in the assembly of the upright and in the congregation. The Works of the LORD are great, studied by all who have pleasure in them. His Work is honorable and glorious, and His Righteousness endures forever. He has made His wonderful Works to be remembered; the LORD is gracious and full of compassion. He has given food to those who fear Him; He will ever be mindful of His covenant. He has declared to His people the power of His Works, in giving them the heritage of the nations. The Works of His hands are verity and justice; all His precepts are sure. They stand fast forever and ever, and are done in truth and uprightness. He has sent redemption to His people; He has commanded His covenant forever: Holy and awesome is His Name. The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; A good understanding have all those who do His commandments. His praise endures forever.”

“That’s not true, Qbot.” Moose smiles, warm and steady, as he steps toward the middle of the Meeting House. The floorboards give a soft creak beneath his sneakers. “The Holy Spirit is here.”

Suddenly Moose’s coms unit jumps to life in his back pocket, vibrating with a steady, insistent thrum. A soft chime cuts through the hush of the Meeting House, polite but unmistakable. He reaches back, pulls the device free, and slides a finger across the surface.

“Captain,” comes Cbot’s quiet voice over the speaker, steady and low. A holographic projection flickers into being above the unit—blue-tinged light catching what’s left of the drifting dust like tiny motes of starlight. Cbot’s cloaked head and shoulders appear, the fabric of her hood framing her face. She isn’t looking directly at the screen. Her optics stay fixed somewhere off to the side, scanning the horizon from the steeple.

“Go ahead, Cbot.” Moose wrinkles his nose, the familiar little twitch pulling at the bridge as he shifts his weight on the creaking floorboards. The colored light from the nearest stained-glass window washes across his shoulders.

“Someone is approaching the Meeting House,” Cbot reports, her voice calm and precise. “There is a ninety-five point seven percent chance it is the cyber-vet we saw walking over earlier.” Her holographic image turns, optics locking directly onto the coms unit. “Orders?”

The green glow in her eyes flares brighter for a moment, casting a soft emerald tint across the drifting dust. The projection flickers once, a brief shimmer of static rippling through her form like heat haze over red desert sand.

“Thanks, Cbot. Good job.” Moose’s voice stays warm and steady. “Keep watch up there. We’ll see if she joins us.” He flips his black leather-bound Bible in the air with an easy motion, catching it cleanly in one hand. For a quiet moment he holds it close, bringing the worn cover to his lips in a gentle kiss, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The pews now hold straight rows of Bibles once more, every book dusted and returned to its place. Behind him, Artbot slides the old broom back into the narrow supply closet with a soft click of the latch, the bristles whispering one last time against the wooden door.

“Okay, ladies,” Moose says, wrinkling his nose as he glances around the transformed room. “Looks like it’s showtime.”

“Bzzzzzrt! Chirp, chirp!” Qbot chimes brightly and rolls backward on her wheeled heels, scooting smoothly toward a pew in the back row. She settles onto the wooden seat with a soft creak that echoes gently through the quiet Meeting House. Her small coms pack hums to life. A compact satellite dish rises smoothly from her back, whirring with quick, decisive clicks as it locks into position and points toward the nearest window.

“Yes, Captain,” Artbot says and pulls her hood down with a quiet rustle, letting her blue hair fall free past her shoulders in a soft cascade. Her optics flash a gentle cyan as she picks up one of the restored Bibles, cradling it carefully in both hands. She moves to stand just beside the door, poised and watchful.

Outside, a quiet set of muted footsteps approaches across the weathered boards. They pause for a long moment. Then the doorknob clicks. The old hinges creak in protest, low and drawn out, as the door slowly swings open.

2 Peter 1: 16-21

“For we did not follow cunningly devised fables when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of His majesty. For He received from God the Father honor and glory when such a voice came to Him from the Excellent Glory: ‘This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ And we heard this voice which came from heaven when we were with Him on the holy mountain. And so we have the prophetic word confirmed, which you do well to heed as a light that shines in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts; knowing this first, that no prophecy of Scripture is of any private interpretation, for prophecy never came by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit.”