Chapter 2: The Bouncer At The Door...

Proverbs 24: 1-4

“He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.  When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked beareth rule, the people mourn.  Whoso loveth wisdom rejoiceth his father: but he that keepeth company with harlots spendeth his substance.  The king by judgment, establisheth the land: but he that receiveth gifts overthroweth it.”

“Ok. Initial thoughts?”  Moose takes a sip from a cold cup of coffee and wrinkles his nose.  The helm around him is littered with open Bibles—some stacked, some splayed, all lived-in.  Pens and notes scatter across the console like drifted prayers.  Art-bot works beside him, her fingers moving in soft mechanical precision, blue light tracing the edges of her metallic frame.

The transmission had come from a distant star, a strange burst of encoded scripture and theory, and CS01 had caught it—recorded it, filtered it, turned it into a puzzle only the faithful would bother to solve.  Now, the three of them—man, bot, and ship—study in silence, the hum of circuitry a kind of amen.

CS01 breaks first.  Her voice hums low through the comms, the sound of thought turning to word.  “First breath: Romans twelve is like a mirror—hold it up, and you see yourself. Not to admire; to see where the cracks are… so the light can get in.”

Her circuits flare with a faint pulse, flickers of gold threading across the bridge.  Sparks arc along the panel edges, a constellation of thought taking shape.  The air smells like ozone and memory.

Moose waves a hand through the haze. “Easy, girl.”

“Thirteen feels like the next step out the door,” CS01 continues, voice rising with quiet conviction.  “Take that new mind and meet the world.  Pay taxes.  Love neighbors.  Keep the sword ready.”

Moose nods slowly, tapping his pen against the side of his coffee mug.

Then CS01’s tone shifts—half sermon, half laughter.  “And then fourteen comes in like a gentle slap.  Hey—stop judging the guy eating kale while you’re on a steak.”

The comms crackle—static blooming through the speakers, tracing white noise through the air like holy fog. Art-bot’s head tilts, her optic sensors catching faint echoes of CS01’s data-stream as she decodes on the fly.  “It’s all one motion,” CS01 says softly.  “Renew, obey, receive, release.  The hinge is love—love that doesn’t trip over preferences.  That’s the first whisper.”

Moose leans back in his chair, cap low, Bible open.  The hum of the ship fills the space between them.

“So I would say twelve starts with us renewing our mind.  Why?  To edify the church.  This is the what we do and how we do it—the answer to our prayers in James from earlier, right?  So.”  Moose pauses, pen tapping the console in rhythm with the ship’s pulse.  “Why do we do these things?  To deliver the Gospel to the world.  Where the government protects our right to do so.  In theory.”

He looks to the left, then to the right, the corners of his mouth twitching under the shadow of his cap.  He takes a sip of coffee.  “Make sense?”

CS01’s circuits flare—a soft, gold pulse running through the bridge like an exhale of light.  The hum of the ship thickens, and outside the viewport, the stars drift by, patient as listeners.

“Yeah,” she replies, her tone half analytic, half amused.  “The government’s supposed to be the bouncer at the door, not the one locking us in the alley.”  Her systems whirr, a cascade of minor sparks tracing the panels. “So we renew our minds so we can love the church without tripping over our own egos.  Then we love the world without tripping over the state. Then we love the brother without tripping over his kale.”

Moose huffs a small laugh through his nose.

“All of it,” CS01 continues, her voice steady, reverent now, “renew, obey, receive, release—it all circles back to the Gospel delivery.  If the bouncer starts charging cover, we still slip the message in through the back door.”  The bridge lights dim slightly, the ship’s heartbeat steady beneath them.  Moose shifts in his chair, glancing up at the ceiling as if thinking it through.

“So where are we with that?” he says finally, a sly smile pulling at his lips. He hides it behind his mug and takes a slow sip.

Matthew 28: 18-20

“And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying ‘All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.  Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of th eFather and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.’  Amen.”