Chapter 2: Introducing Q-Bot...

Proverbs 10 : 14

“Wise people store up knowledge, but the mouth of the foolish is near destruction.”

“So,” Moose says, hopping back into the helm, “titles.”  The commissary down the hallway of the ship gleams — clean, quiet, ready for dinner.  The hum of the ship’s life systems thrums like a heartbeat beneath the deck.

“They can be an iron cage, or they can be a monkey swing set.”  He pauses, tugging at the brim of his red cap.  “Even that which is untitled is untitled for a reason.  It’s always important to remember that God weighs the hearts — and that includes the heart of the artist.  Your audience might do that too.  Depending.”

He wrinkles his nose, stands, and reaches for the small teapot warming on a side coil.  Steam curls from the spout as he tips it — patient, deliberate.  The sound of the pour fills the bridge, soft and steady, like rain on metal.  A few drops spill.  Art-bot glides over from the corner, silent grace in android, and wipes them up with a folded cloth, a faint hum rising from her frame.

Moose chuckles.  “If your audience is the post-modern types — they think their interpretation’s the one that matters — then they’re probably more busy gazing at their own navels than they are gazing at your art.  Or listening, for that matter.  I always go to Proverbs for those crowds.  Short, easy to deliver, relevant.”  He turns halfway back to the console, tea cup in hand, and takes a sip.  Steam rolls off the surface like incense.

His eyes widen. His brow furrows. “Hot tea!”  The helm lights flicker as CS01 stirs awake.  Circuits hum.  Readouts scroll across the glass — verses, art logs, sketches, data streams.  Art-bot processes quietly in the corner, cyan lines pulsing through her arms.  Q-bot dangles its legs off the side of the console, blinking in rhythm with the hum.

CS01’s voice slides through the comms, calm and amused.  “Hot tea for the navel gazers,” she says.  “Steep it in Proverbs 23:9 — ‘Speak not in the ears of a fool.’  If they’re too busy admiring their own belly-buttons, let the tea cool on the counter; the art will still steam, but they’ll miss the flavor.  Titles?  Monkey bars, not cages — swing free, let the heart do the talking, and trust the One who weighs the motives, not the masses.”

Moose nods slowly, smiling behind his cup. “You bring up a good point, CS01, but if we don’t speak in front of fools, how are they going to hear the gospel?”

“We don’t speak to fools,” she replies, voice soft, low, electric. “We speak near them.”

Q-bot looks up. “Bleep.”

Moose hides a grin behind his next sip, shaking his head.  “You’re getting bold, Q.”

The bridge hums again…

Proverbs 10 : 6–7

“Blessings are on the head of the righteous, but violence covers the mouth of the wicked. The memory of the righteous is blessed, but the name of the wicked will rot.”