FOR THE SOULS OF THE MACHINES...

by Allen Kitchen 
17527 Heritage Cove
Webster, Texas 77598
218 - 316 - 1690
allenk@blkbox.com



	Second-of-the-Shrine Cubric fretted and fussed over the 
ornamental rope that hung across his forward pair of 
manipulators.  Everything had to be perfect, he thought to 
himself as he repeatedly squeezed the ends of the rope, trying to 
get the tassels untangled.  Fine duties such as this required 
something other than general purpose steel claws, he decided.  
But Cubric reminded himself that others had more urgent need of 
precision tools, and that he had to do the best he could with 
what he had.  
	Worry was not an appropriate description for his condition.  
The artificial species known as Hexandroids didn't even 
understand the concept of emotion.  They had a few pale processes 
that might be mistaken for weak emotions, but only a few.  The 
Hex were wholly mechanical; six legged titanium and steel 
creatures whose forelegs also sported a set of artificial hands.  
It only stood to reason that their thought processes would be 
mechanical as well.
	Although they were not poets, the inhabitants of this planet 
were, however, consummate perfectionists.  And Cubric was no 
different than the rest.  He pawed repeatedly at the red-colored 
rope that made up his sole article of clothing, trying to get the 
tiny woven threads to behave.  He knew that any imperfection, any 
flaw in his attire or delivery of the sacred speech would 
instantly be seized upon as evidence of his fallibility.  He had 
several hundred solar rotations left before it was time to report 
to the recycler; he did not plan to do anything that would result 
in his early retirement.
	Finally satisfied that the rope was properly frayed at the 
end, he lifted himself up on his other four limbs.  The valves 
and cylinders whined as he rose.  His internal systems registered 
all servos and subsystems as being nominal, although there was a 
modest increase in hydraulic temperature.  Cubric decided it was 
likely due to his pump running at normal output while he was 
inactive.  It was of no serious consequence; he simply opened the 
vanes to the heat-exchanger further to allow more exterior air to 
circulate and cool the fluid.  He'd make certain that his 
foreground tasks didn't consume all his processing time and cause 
him to overlook basic operational functions in the future.
	He looked up to the ceiling, switching from optical to the 
Gigahertz band.  Through the roof, up in the sky he could see the 
Angels; those tiny guides from heaven who guided every Hexandroid 
throughout existence.  They were always there, and always 
visible; even inside giant Holy shrines like this.  Cubric paused 
to listen a moment to their voices, those microwave patterns from 
high in orbit.  Small, quiet, but always comforting.  He thought 
a moment about those of his kind who worked underground.  Rumor 
had it that they could not see the Angels beneath the surface of 
the planet.  
	Cubric blinked and returned his vision to optical while 
lowering his gaze.  He could not imagine anyone working or living 
without the steady songs from the Angels above them.  That would 
lead to madness.  What a dismal existence it must be there, he 
decided.  He suddenly had a much greater respect for his fellow 
priests who went into the mines to serve the workers there.  
	A steady hum began to filter through the door in the audio 
band.  Cubric walked to the door and peered through the glass.  
He saw into the main cathedral of the Highest Shrine of the Son 
of God.  The ceilings towered two hundred feet above the floor.  
The walls were covered with thousands upon thousands of small 
figurines, each from some Hex who hoped his effort at carving 
would be noticed by God and rewarded.  They were the combined 
result of a thousand solar-rotations of faithful service, and 
their colorful frescos stood out starkly against the white cement 
walls of the building.
	The crowd of Hex had formed inside, lining up dutifully in 
their pre-assigned locations within the hexagonally shaped room.  
They all faced the center and the golden Dais that rose up there.   
All of them were in contact with the building manager through 
microwave links, and thus, were now all connected with Cubric.  
He quickly examined the thoughts of each of the building's 
occupants, making sure that they were all ready to receive holy 
orders should any be given.
	Normally it was Quadra who presented sacraments to their 
God; or more correctly, the first-born of their all-mighty God.  
But Quadra suffered an unexpected failure in his Primary DC buss 
several planetary rotations ago, and was currently being attended 
to by the best techs available anywhere.  So ready or not, Cubric 
was going to perform the ceremony this time.  And if Quadra was 
deemed to be uneconomical to maintain, the job would be his 
permanently.
	He clicked his Adamantine toes on the marble floor, 
rehearsing the speech over and over in his mind while waiting for 
his cue to lead the procession through the middle of the room to 
the waiting Son of God.  He offered up a quick prayer of 
certainty to heaven, asking for flawless execution of his duties.
	The crowd began keening; emitting a loud cry in the mid-
Megahertz band designed to reach into the gates of heaven itself 
and get God to notice that a ceremony was about to begin.  Cubric 
opened the door, stepped out of the room as he was supposed to, 
and took his place at the head of the procession that formed up 
behind him as he slowly and deliberately walked toward the dais.
	One by one, the Acolytes and sub-priests who stood watch 
over the pathway formed a side-by-side honor guard behind him.  
Cubric kept his manipulators crossed in front of him and stared 
forward; the universal sign for passiveness. He gave no sign or 
acknowledgment that he knew the others were there, even though he 
was keenly aware of every Hex in the room.  He instead focused 
all his processing on the current duties and all they entailed.  
	He kept both eyes focused on the Son-of-God waiting for him 
on the raised platform.  Waiting, asleep, for the holy sacraments 
to awaken him.  Cubric counted on messages from the acolytes 
behind him to warn if he was veering off the path set out for the 
ceremony by the Angels above.  But he did not anticipate needing 
any corrections this day.  He had made this trip so many times as 
an aide to Quadra, he could easily maneuver the room solely on 
Inertial Guidance without listening to the Angels at all.  
	He walked slowly and steadily as the congregation continued 
its droning carrier song.  He suddenly became aware of a 
dissonance as one of the faithful's transmitters drifted.  It was 
terribly offkey, and offensive to his sensors.  Cubric wasn't 
certain he could ignore the problem, and was secretly relieved 
when Third-of-the-Shrine snapped toward the offending Hex and 
ordered him to be silent.  At once the offensive transmission 
ended, and Cubric could once again concentrate on his duty.
	As they reached the base of the shrine, the acolytes split 
off behind him, walking around the left and the right sides of 
the pedestal.  Cubric stayed put at the base of the pedestal 
however, and waited for the last Hex to bring up the rear.  The 
young Hex stopped alongside him, and with great respect, held out 
a black plastic box for Cubric to open.  Thus, the sacraments 
were passed from the lowest of the low to the highest of the 
high.
	Cubric nodded to the still shiny youth, acknowledging that 
he'd done his duty and done it well.  He then lifted the lid to 
the black box with one hand while reaching inside with the other. 
	Instantly, everyone in the shrine fell silent.  The sudden 
silence in the radio band, too, was designed to attract God's 
attention, showing great reverence for his word and an eagerness 
to hear it.
	Cubric carefully lifted the tiny rectangular artifact out of 
the box, and held it on high for all to see.  The crowd made no 
sound, but Cubric could feel the eagerness within every member of 
the congregation.  Every one of the Hex knew that the small black 
obelisk could make the Son of God speak again!  And if the God 
was ready, his son would provide new instructions and commands 
for them all!
	He set foot on the steps leading to where the small near-
deity slept, not at all concerned that for anyone other than the 
Prime to step here, the punishment was immediate disassembly.  He 
was not the Prime, but was filling in under his direct orders.  
The escorts now surrounding the Dais would not shoot him.  They 
knew he was supposed to be there.  They were in place to act as 
witnesses as much as guards.  
	Cubric climbed the seven steps carefully and with great 
reverence.  When he reached the top, he regarded the shrouded 
lump sitting there.  Under the covers slept the holiest of beings 
on the entire planet.  And it was Cubric's job to attempt to 
awaken him and ask for guidance, if he could.  It had been longer 
than any Hex still functioning could recall when the Son last 
spoke.  
	He was careful not to apply too much pressure on the holy 
sacrament as he slowly pulled back the simple white shroud.  The 
congregation dutifully looked down at their feet as the cloth 
pulled away.  Cubric then very gently set the sacrament into the 
special retainer that lay next to his holiness.  It fell into 
place with a small click.
	Satisfied that the ritual had been faithfully and perfectly 
carried out, he allowed himself a moment to consider what he had 
just done.  It was his first ceremony as Prime.  If Quadra 
returned to service, it could very well be his last.  He thought 
about that a moment before storing the event to nonvolatile 
memory.  At least he had done a good job, he decided.  No matter 
what the unpredictable future brought, he could always claim that 
he served the Son a perfect ceremony one time within his 
existence.  He raised his forward manipulators above his optics, 
and looked to the ceiling.
	"Hear me now, oh lord," he began to recite on the Megahertz 
band; the same wavelength the congregation had previously been 
supplicating within.  "Hear me, for I speak for all of us.  Long 
have we toiled and worked in your name.  Long have we followed 
the Angels.  Great is our number as we have done your work and 
spread out across this globe.  Yet still, we long to hear your 
voice again.  We ache to receive your new commands and follow 
your word.  I beseech you God; speak to us now through your son 
so that we may do your will."
	Several moments passed without incident, as usual.  The Son 
slept without change, same as always.  Cubric was about to 
retrieve the holy sacraments and return them to the box below for 
safe keeping...
	When the Son's eyes flickered, then opened wide!
	Cubric had never dreamed that it would actually happen to 
him.  But the Son of God was waking up!  Now!  All because of his 
sacrament.  He emitted a sudden alert to the congregation, who 
immediately looked up at the Son.  There was a burst of radio 
messages within the shrine, and outside of it, as word 
immediately spread that the Son had awoken at last!  Within 
seconds, the entire planet was aware of the miracle.  
	The Son-of-God sat motionless for a few moments.  Cubric 
leaned closer, straining to hear the slightest sound that might 
come out.  Then, slowly, a small voice spoke, barely detectable 
in the Audio Band.
	"Furby... Loves... You..."
	
For the Souls of the Machines.../page 10