Father Rob
A dream story by J Michael Donovan
Monsignori Antonio Gambolini has been charged by the Pope to meet with a Professor Thomas Notally today, in order to further investigate and appraise the master inventor’s latest accomplishments. Rome seminary student, Gilbert White, aid to the Monsignori, accompanies him. The great Professor Natolly is noted for his unique, yet disciplined contributions to the Church administration as it attempts to tread (lightly and slowly) into the electronic age.
The meeting is to take place in the Professor’s less than pristine laboratory, especially praised for its unsparing level of security. The lab is within walking distance from the Vatican, but for their trip the Monsignori has demanded the use of a limousine from Vatican transport services. Unfortunately, the Monsignori is suffering today from a mild case of gastric upset as the result of mixing several unhealthy snacks with his oysters and pasta at a regalia on the previous evening. For that reason, his aid, student White, is forearmed with suitable soothing palliatives and a leather-bound first aid kit as appropriate for medical support in the event of a Monsignori emergency. As well, aid Gilbert White carries a pocket full of Tums—for himself—and his Mother’s pearl rosary, along with a partial pack of unfiltered Italian cigarettes.
This will be the second meeting in as many months with the Professor. During the initial meeting, Notally went to great lengths to describe the basis for his latest effort in hopes of securing Vatican funding. He suggested then that his ultimate goal was to relieve the Church of its burden to maintain a steady supply of new seminarians for the priesthood. Young Gilbert, based mostly upon his own recent experience, felt that enlistments are generally dependent on Mothers who yearn for reserved seats in Heaven.
As the old priest and his young aid pretended to relax among all the electronic paraphernalia, the Professor sought to enlighten them concerning what they were about to witness. He suggested this was the ultimate answer to that primary need of the Church. Without further ado, he strolled theatrically to a door on his left, turned the metal knob and swung the door open on its hinges.
Bending slightly and extending his arm and hand, palm up, he posed proudly and announced with vigor, “I am proud to introduce the ‘perpetual servant’ for the millennia—my humble creation. Meet ‘Father Rob.’” And with that, a fully attired priest appeared, in black with a Roman collar. He appeared to be of normal height, ever slightly rotund, and of indeterminate age—perhaps early forties—with a full, neat head of dark hair with graying at the temples. The good Father abruptly approached Monsignori with a slight smile.
“Monsignori,” the Father said in cultured English. “I am so pleased to finally meet you, having heard so much about your accomplishments. It is a great pleasure to be in your company.”
Monsignori was hesitant, yet managed to extend one manicured hand to allow ‘the thing’ to touch it. The hand was withdrawn quickly, but Monsignori’s mouth continued to hang open.
Fr. Rob acknowledged the seminarian with a simple nod before turning to face the Professor to ask with a large smile, “Is it my turn, Professor?”
Grinning, Notally answered Rob, “Thank you, not yet. Let me expand on your unusual capabilities before you display proof. And with that, Fr. Rob’s facial expression froze in place as if switched off. His eye lids dropped slowly over his dark irises. Notally placed his arm around Fr. Rob’s shoulders as he spoke, “I believe firmly that what I have accomplished by the creation of Fr, Rob—short for ‘robot’—is the answer to the Church’s prayer. Rob is undoubtedly the most trusted servant available to fulfill the pastor role in churches all over the world. He is fluent in twenty-eight languages and 16 dialects, competently familiar with the entire Catholic Bible and Roman Missal as well as most web apps of Christian philosophy and homily preparation. What he doesn’t have in his multiple hard-drive ‘brain,’ he is able to search Wikipedia and Chrome to find, download and correlate. Though he and his ‘twins’ will be expensive, batteries are miniature variations of existing types that have a half-life of ten, count ‘em, ten years. His ‘charger’ is a super silent type that runs on alcohol—any type, parishioner donated or readily available at the local shop. He is designed to automatically limit his fuel consumption, regardless of type, and like real priests he is most especially trustworthy and keenly aware of right and wrong based on his built-in, vast intellect. The fact that he is asexual is an extra plus which speaks for itself. . . Are there any questions?”
Monsignori was nonplussed and his stomach growled, yet he managed to utter something in Italian that is roughly translated as ‘I’ll be damned!” But once he recovered he raised his brows and used broken English to ask: “Can it do a Mass?”
Notally’s eyeballs rolled up to indicate ‘M’ had asked a silly question. “Of course,” he sputtered. “That’s the prime criteria for the design. In fact, I was just about to have him run through a typical Mass. Would you prefer it in English, Italian, or?” Monsignori finally decided that it would perform the Mass in Greek, which only the Monsignori could understand.
It turned out that it provided the exemplary task without a single pause, complete with a short, pointed homily and a rather glib ‘punch line.’ Though Monsignori was elated by the robot’s ability, he asked two pertinent questions. First: How could this robot perform the act of consecration—turning wine and host into blood and flesh—the basis for a legitimate, real Mass? Anatoly was nonplussed, but boldly asked in return whether parishioners would actually know the difference? Monsignori cleared his throat before suggesting that ‘they’—meaning the Vatican—would make the determination, if and when the project received funding. He hesitated before asking the second question concerning hygiene: Just how, he whispered, could it—and its clothing—be cleaned and sanitized . . . for safety’s sake? On this point the Professor was prepared: He proudly stated that the task could be the basis for a new ministry within parishes; especially utilizing older women who would be most pleased to receive indulgences for weekly cleaning of Father and his clothing. “No more difficult than damp-mopping a fake leather chair,” He offered with a smug grin.
Monsignori felt the need to belch, while his aid appeared to shrink within his habit, so Monsignori and his aid, Gilbert, quickly prepared to leave without making any commitments as to the Vatican’s position on Natolly’s project.
Not one to be left hanging, Professor/salesman Notally had contrived to seal the deal with the Monsignori in order to convince his Italian backers to continue their support. He spoke out quickly: “Please pause while I astound you with a second miracle that will most certainly please the Church. As he spoke, he moved to another door similar to the one through which Fr. Rob had emerged. He unlocked that door, opened it and reached in. As he withdrew his hand and arm it became clear that he held the hand of a lovely female, a nun who smiled softly as she came forward.
“This is Sister Nary—my name for her. Equally as talented as Fr. Rob—same construction—she has the potential for reinvigorating the religious school systems. Imagine the World impacted by tens-of-thousands of Fr. Robs and Sisters Nary. The initial investment will be more than overcome by savings from the minimum upkeep necessary to provide a fully disciplined Church through the centuries—and all under tight, electronic control.
By now, it was clear to the seminarian aid that Monsignori was secretly impressed with the overall potential to ‘fix’ The Church. He watched Monsignori shake hands with the Professor and heard the promise of a glowing report to the Church leaders. Monsignori motioned his aid to move toward the door, but avoided any final contact with either robot. Just as well, since both robots had lapsed into ‘sleep’ mode while standing across the room from each other.
After that meeting, it was only Gilbert, the Monsignori’s seminarian aid, who recalled standing by the open doorway to usher the others through when he noticed Fr. Rob’s head turn toward Sister Nary and even saw his left eye wink—just once—at the Sister who lowered her eyes and grinned ever so slightly.
(Not the end.)
