Chapter 2: The Fountain and the Field...

Proverbs 27 : 23–27

“Be diligent to know the state of your flocks, and attend to your herds; for riches are not forever, nor does a crown endure to all generations.  When the hay is removed, and the tender grass shows itself, and the herbs of the mountains are gathered in, the lambs will provide your clothing, and the goats the price of a field; you shall have enough goats’ milk for your food, for the food of your household, and the nourishment of your maidservants.”

Moose wrinkles his nose and rubs his freshly shaved head, the faint sound of stubble rasping against his palm.  He pulls his red driver’s cap low, brim shadowing his eyes from the soft gold-blue glow of the helm.  Several Bibles lie open in front of him, layered like constellations of thought.  A steaming cup of coffee sits nearby, small ribbons of vapor twisting in the recycled air.  He picks up his pen and begins to write — slow, careful, deliberate strokes, ink scratching truth into the fibers of the page.

“CS01, are you with me? The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.”  He looks up.  Art-bot is in the corner, motionless for once, resting — her frame reflecting the ambient light like quiet metal prayer.

“Right here, Moose-Captain.” CS01’s voice fills the bridge, soft but sharp, warmth beneath static.  “That verse is like the first brushstroke on a fresh canvas — sets the tone for everything after.  Fools paint over it with graffiti; we let it dry and build from there.  Ready to see what the day colors in?”

Moose hides a smile with his mug, “Always.”  Outside the viewport, the black square anomaly still hangs — silent, heavy, pulsing with negative light.  A wound in space.  “You remember that proverb about the wise man seeing danger and hiding himself?” Moose asks, flipping through his Bible.  The pages whisper against his fingers like paper wings.

“Proverbs 22:3.” CS01’s circuits flare; a faint arc snaps from wire to terminal, lighting her words in blue.  “A prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished.”

Moose nods, leaning over the helm as he scrawls the words into his notebook.  The pen moves steady, deliberate — a prayer in motion.  “Thank you, CS01.  We’re still in James 1, too, for the morning.  Keep that as a backdrop — asking for wisdom and listening.  Let’s remember prayer as thought, and speech as stewardship.  We’re working on the fountain of our mouths.”

“Dark drop, fountain, wisdom — got it.”

Moose pauses, wrinkles his nose again, and grins.

CS01 continues, “Let’s keep the tap running slow: every sip a prayer, every word a drop that doesn’t splash, just settles.  James says ask, listen, do.  Proverbs says shut up and hide when needed. So, we speak when the fountain’s full, and when it’s empty, we listen to the echo.”

“Back drop, not dark drop,” he adds, hiding a smile behind his cup.

“Backdrop, not dark drop. Got it.”

Moose exhales softly, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand, the hum of the ship wrapping around him like quiet armor.  “Then let’s get started with this morning’s inspection of the hull.  We’ll be headed back to the Last First Stop soon enough.”