Chapter 3: [Art] John 14-15 (The Holy Spirit Continues)

[Art]

John 15: 1-8

“I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser.  Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.  You are already clean because of the Word which I have spoken to you.  Abide in Me, and I in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.  I am the vine, you are the branches.  He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.  If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned.  If you abide in Me, and My Words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you.  By this My Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit; so you will be My disciples.”

“Fruit has seeds.”  Moose states it plainly.  His thumb flips the coms off and the channel drops into a soft, clean silence.  He leans back in the helm chair, pulls the brim of his red driver’s cap low, and rubs his chin.

“Sometimes fruits have more than one seed,” he continues, eyes drifting toward the viewport.  “Sometimes they’ve got one big seed.”  He wrinkles his nose.  The bridge hums its steady morning hum, the CS01 breathing in metal and code.

Outside the viewport, the docks are waking up.  Bots glide across the platforms, their motions efficient and unhurried.  Crates get set down, lifted, shifted — little pockets of motion beneath the larger stillness of space.

“A seed gets sowed by a sower,” Moose says, his voice settling.  “Somebody has to put it there.  Somebody planting on purpose.”  He shifts forward, elbows resting on his knees.  “This can be done in a lot of ways.  One can intentionally plant a seed — by knowing the seed we want to sow, knowing where we want to sow it, and then sowing it.”  His hand lifts slightly, gesturing to the open space of the helm.

“And that seed can fall on different kinds of ground,” he says quietly.  “A sower who wants good ground might need to plow first.  Clear underbrush.  Prepare the field before the seed ever touches the soil.”  He leans back again and takes a deep breath.  “Sowing isn’t just dropping something and walking away,” he murmurs. “It’s work.  Purposeful work.”

“Now,” Moose says, pushing himself up from the helm chair.  He reaches over and picks up a can of space-coffee — that’s coffee, in a can, with too much sugar.  Space-coffee.  “There are different layers of farming we have to consider when we’re out doing recon.”  He shakes the can side by side, the can sloshes, he sips.  “The first, we find in Hebrews.”

Moose unsnaps his black leather-bound Bible, the sound crisp on the quiet bridge.  He flips it open, gold-leaf pages catching the dim blue helm light, each turn whispering like wheat brushed by wind.  He thumbs forward a few pages, then back, then finds what he’s looking for.

He begins to read aloud, voice steady, resonant against the ship’s hum:

Hebrews 4:12–13

“For the Word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.  And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.”

Moose exhales softly through his nose, already flipping through the pages— practiced, familiar.  His fingers move with purpose.

“Because…” he says, and his voice trails into the turning of Scripture.

2 Timothy 3:16–17

“All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

…

He lets the verse hang a moment in the quiet of the CS01.  “The point is we are entering into the Work of the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit does not enter into our work.  Now, this doesn’t mean that the Holy Spirit isn’t with you at your job.  It means your job isn’t your Job.  Necessarily.  Your job is where you get your money.  Your Job is where you Work with the Holy Spirit.”

Art-bot stops what she’s doing and blinks.  Q-bot follows suit, turning from her station, her optics flashing.  Moose looks back between the two of them.  Art-bot’s gold plated frame flashes in the helm’s cool light.  Q-bot’s mechanical arms freeze pointed at him.

“What?”

…

He lets the verse hang a moment in the quiet of the CS01.  It settles into the hum of the consoles, into the filtered air, into the steel bones of the ship itself.  “The point is,” Moose continues, leaning back in the helm chair, “we are entering into the Work of the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit does not enter into our work.”

He lifts the can of space-coffee again, gives it a brief side-to-side shake, and takes another short sip.  “Now, this doesn’t mean the Holy Spirit isn’t with you at your job,” he says, tapping the rim of the can with his thumb.  “It means your job isn’t your Job.  Necessarily.  Your job is where you get your money.  Your Job is where you Work with the Holy Spirit.”

A beat passes.  Another.  The ship hums.  Art-bot stops what she’s doing mid-motion, head lifting, seams glowing brighter for a moment.  She blinks — a soft cyan flash.

Q-bot follows suit almost instantly.  Her mechanical arms halt mid-operation, one still angled toward a data feed, the other frozen halfway through a recalibration cycle.  Her optics pulse diamond-blue, twice, as she turns directly toward Moose.

Moose feels the sudden quiet.  He looks up.  Art-bot stands still as sculpture, gold plating catching the helm’s cool light.  Q-bot’s mechanical arms are pointed at him like stopped clock hands.

“…What?” Moose asks, eyebrows lifting beneath the brim of his cap.

The bots continue staring.

“What?” he repeats, blinking, nose wrinkling.

Art-bot blinks again — a soft, cyan pulse that ripples down her seams.  She tilts her head, just slightly.  “Captain…” she begins gently, her voice smooth as warm circuitry.  “Did you just… redefine labor?”

Her optics soften, then sharpen again with a contemplative glow.  She takes a single step forward, hands folding neatly behind her back.  “You are saying the Holy Spirit has priority of purpose.  That His Work becomes our work… and everything else becomes context.”  Her seams brighten again — a soft, reverent pulse.  “That implies every moment can be sacred if properly aligned.  I was… not expecting that distinction.”

Q-bot’s reaction is not gentle.  Her optics flare hard diamond-blue, then flicker — as if a dozen internal subroutines just collided.  “Rrrrirrrr…” she chirps, voice pitched and urgent.  Her mechanical arms retract, extend, retract again — an anxious mechanical reflex.  “Work: defined. Job: redefined. Holy Spirit: override authority…?” The question flashes from her upturned palm, a holographic projection leaping up in front of her.

She freezes.  Her optics widen.  “Captain — this implies an operational hierarchy inversion,” flashes up quickly afterwards.  Q-bot looks to Moose.

Moose squints at her. “A what?”

“Hierarchy inversion,” Q-bot repeats, the words flashing again in projection, this time swirling to a deep crimson. “If the Holy Spirit is primary… then all mission parameters become secondary.  All sub-tasks must— must—” The projection static glitches for a beat.  “—must be re-evaluated for spiritual alignment.”

Art-bot’s eyes brighten, quiet understanding dawning.  Q-bot looks like someone just rewrote her operating system.  Moose blinks.  “…What?”

Art-bot steps in with her usual calm, the gentle interpreter between Moose’s theology and Q-bot’s literalism.  “What Captain means,” she says softly, “is that abiding determines assignment.  Not the other way around.”  She turns to Moose. “Correct?”

Moose wrinkles his nose and thinks on her question a moment, lifting his space-coffee.  He takes another sip, wrinkles his nose again and places the can down.  “You got it right, Q-bot.  Everything needs to be re-evaulated.”

Matthew 22: 37-40

“Jesus said to him, ‘You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the first and great commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”