Electric Sermon

He looked out at his long time attendants, wondering what their reaction would be, then, all at once, as was his custom to do, spat out the finish of his sentence with total abandon to the consequences, "...of the use of robots."

The people of Candlewick, with their mouths hanging open in utter surprise, looked more like fish sitting in the window of a fish market, all lined up neatly in a row, eyes staring, lifeless, and unblinking.

Father Kincaid, swimming in nervous uncertainty, seized the moment to usher in his era of new technology, and raced to the finish line of his speech.

"And now, good people of Candlewick, without further adieu, allow me to introduce to you, Father A.C. 100, the world’s first fully automated, self-reliant, robotic priest."

With the enthralled silence that ensued, you could have heard a feather drop on a pillow. The stunned audience watched in silence, as A.C. 100 made its jolting entrance up at the altar.

It walked, no, glided, across the floor, with the grace and ease of an athlete. It was humanoid in shape, and stood an even six feet tall. White, priestly robes hung around its frame, concealing all but its head and lower arms, which were a metallic, cobalt blue. A purple sash, tied around its midsection, hung loosely at its side.

While no ears or nose were visible, centered in its oval face were two perfectly round eyes, each one emanating a dull, white light. And its mouth, if one could call it that, was a crescent shaped smile, giving it the odd appearance of the theater world’s eternal mask of comedy.

Not a soul moved. Not one gaping eye blinked. The audience held its breath as one. Even the Stevens’ children stopped fidgeting and stared with wonderment at the technological marvel up at the altar.

A.C. 100 stopped in front of the altar, lifted its arms in a welcoming gesture, and spoke.

"Hello," it said, in a voice nearly indistinguishable from any human voice, "I am Father A.C. 100, and would be honored to be the representing priest for the good people of St. Agatha."

Father Kincaid turned from the robotic presence and gazed upon the human one, gauging their reaction with great interest. Some smiled, mostly the young. Others looked appalled, mostly the elderly. But most simply stared, not quite sure what to make of the mechanical clergyman. Father Brody stood near the back, wearing a slight frown, arms folded, and shaking his head in disapproval.

"Now, before we begin," said Father Kincaid, "let me ask you to hold any judgements until after the mass. All I ask is that you please give this a chance. While I will preside over today’s services, A.C. 100 will actually carry out the proceedings." He paused a moment, took a deep, excited breath, and let it out slowly. The robot relieved the priest at the podium.

"Let us begin," it said.

* * *

"I'm not at all surprised," said Father Brody, laughing nervously, "your lucky they didn’t all get up and walk out."

"Its bad enough some did," Father Kincaid retorted, "And half way through the mass, no less. I've never seen anything like that before."

"But really, Martin, what did you expect?"

"Well, they could have given it a chance at least," Father Kincaid said, "But most of them did stay to the end, though," he added, with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

"Of course they did.