A MATTER OF MASS 事关弥撒
By Floris M. Kleijne
Translated By Ninesnow
2014-11
彗星科幻
(译文见后)
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been..." Father Zio sighed. "It's been thirteen years since my last IRL confession."
Behind the lattice, Bishop Otis shifted in his seat.
"But--" the Bishop said. He paused before continuing: "And how long has it been since your last online confession?"
"A week, Father. But it's not the same. It's not."
"Go on, my son."
"I have harbored unkind thoughts at times, about members of my flock. I have had lustful thoughts at times." Father Zio smiled quietly to himself. Mr. Dooley's dramatic antics of feigned ecstasy at every Mass were enough to bring unkind thoughts to the holiest of minds, never mind his own flawed, rehabilitated soul. As for Mrs. Ocura's cleavage... Let's just say some things were worth a couple of Hail-Mary's.
"Go on, my son."
The Bishop's prompt made him realize he was marking time with these minor sins, postponing the inevitable, while he knew exactly what he should be confessing instead. Father Zio believed in confession, needed the cleansing of his soul. But it was unfortunate, to say the least, that Bishop Otis was the one taking it. No matter. No sense delaying any longer.
"I have been prideful. I have defied the wishes of the Holy Church." There. That would put an end to any doubt Bishop Otis might still have had. "I have defied... you, Father."
From behind the lattice came the sound of indrawn breath, followed by a long silence. Then:
"How so, my son?"
#
The week before, Bishop Otis had introduced Father Zio to his replacement.
Admittedly, Andrew had been convincing. Except for an almost subliminal hum when it stood up from its seat, the new priest could have passed for human in any gathering. They had spent fifteen minutes arguing doctrine, and Andrew's command of Scripture and religious philosophy had been impressive to the point of intimidation.
"I'll leave you two to discuss the practicalities." Its voice carried perfect timbres of kindness and self-effacing respect. Zio had no doubt it could cast its voice to the proper tone for any occasion. "If you need me, I'll be on board the Pius VI." The episcopal vessel was moored off air lock 42, waiting to take the Bishop back to the diocese. The Bishop and, if the Most Reverend had his way, Zio as well.
"Yes, thank you, Andrew."
The door between Zio's chambers and corridor K hissed closed. Bishop Otis was still standing behind the plain sofa where Father Andrew had sat, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his purple cassock, smiling benignly as if bestowing a blessing on the departed priest. Father Zio rounded on the Bishop, but his many outraged questions battled him into silence. The Bishop neatly stepped into the opening.
"So, Father, do you feel ready to start your life after penance?"
So that was how he wanted to play it. This new Bishop was very different from his late predecessor, Bishop Armanez. But Father Zio wasn't ready--or willing--to talk around the elephant in the room.
"A robot? You'd replace me with a robot, Most Reverend?"
"The Holy See has coined the term Paracreational Shepherd. But yes, a robot, if you will." The benign smile on the Bishop's face didn't fool Zio for a moment.
"No." Father Zio's mind teemed with objections, arguments, outraged exclamations, but the single negation was all he could utter.
"My son, do you realize what the diocese is offering you? Absolution, the end to your penance, an easy, planet-side congregation close to Earth. God willing, a congregation on Earth itself, when it comes available. To be absolved of the sins in your past, Zio. Isn't that what you want?"
The sins in his past. Father Zio would never have expected it to be put so bluntly. Things must have changed in the Mother Church while he tended this tiny backwater parish. Or maybe it was just this new Bishop who preferred a mundane, speak-your-mind approach that would have been considered shockingly inappropriate when Father Zio was first ordained.
He had been just Zio when he found Christ in prison, doing hard time for a wide range of cybercrimes. The Church had accepted him, taught him, ordained him, but hadn't readily forgiven him. In the dark recesses of his mind, he still wondered sometimes how much of their outrage had been about the innocent victims he had made, and how much about the moneys he had liberated from various hidden Vatican Bank accounts. It didn't really matter though: he considered his service on dilapidated Outpost Psi fair penance for the deaths he had caused.
"Most Reverend, with all due respect, that is not the point. I'm sure Father Andrew was easy to replicate and cheap to ship, but that doesn't make him a priest! How can a robot ever serve a congregation? How can a robot commune with the Holy Trinity? Will the Diocese train monkeys next? Or is it now the position of the Church that robots possess a soul?"
Bishop Otis actually flinched for a second, but he quickly recovered into icy fury.
"It seems you read Her Holiness's encyclicals with less attention than you should, Father Zio."
Zio racked his brain. There had been upheaval at an almost Galactic level over the last papal missive. The accepted interpretation of the encyclical was that Pia IV wished to open the Church to alien intelligences. But reviewing the text in his head, Zio realized that the exact wording could as easily be made applicable to artificial intelligences--to robots.
"Mea culpa." He did not trust himself to say anything else.
"Te absolvo." The Bishop absently waved a blessing at his priest. "This is an opportunity for you, Zio; I would have expected you to see that. You're not getting any younger, and frankly, these... incidents in the last months..."
Not that again.
There had been two incidents, two. And both had been a result of the ill-maintained AG systems on Psi. It seemed that anything might cause a malfunction these days, from turning on too many appliances at once, to slamming the light panel too forcefully. First time the AG faltered, Father Zio had been pouring the sacramental wine. The fumes had first stained and nauseated his floating congregation, and then burst into a spectacular fireball above the altar as the candles ignited the vaporized alcohol. Except some charring of the altar cloth, and a couple of singed eyebrows, the damage had been limited. The second time, a ball of holy water had drifted up through the Church. Letting his parishioners plunge their hands into it as they entered had admittedly been ill-advised, however practical it had seemed at the time: the scattered smaller and smaller droplets had splashed all over the church module when gravity returned.
Holding these against him was a stretch. Using them as proof of his senile incompetence infuriated Father Zio.
"With all due respect, Most Reverend, I still say No. My congregation needs a real priest, a human priest, one with a soul; not some artificial collection of rote liturgy and pre-packaged responses. It may not be a large parish by your standards, they may number less than a percent of the population here, but these are fourteen immortal souls you're playing with."
That, finally, got a rise out of the Bishop. He jerked his right hand free and raised it.
"Careful, Father. An unkind ear might think you're contradicting Her Holiness. And frankly, it is not your place to refuse or accept. This is the wish of your Church. It is your place to meekly comply!"
That was it. The threat of heresy, and the demand for obedience. And while he believed with all his heart and soul that this was dangerous to the life eternal of his flock, he had sworn to serve the Church. No sense arguing any longer.
Sense had never been his strong suit, though.
#
Father Zio had to admit that the robot performed remarkably well. He considered himself a good priest, a master of liturgy, but Andrew was something else entirely. Despite himself, Zio, felt himself being swept along in the rhythms of the service, participating in the congregational responses, carried aloft on the prayers. He had to remind himself that this was artificial, an automated performance honed to perfection, his own sense of the Divine a conditioned response rather than a real effect of this canned Mass. Even the utilitarian metal interior of the small module took on a sepulchral reverence under the slow echoes of the robot's voice.
He fingered the object in his cassock pocket.
From his seat to the side of the altar, he could see that the members of his flock--no, Andrew's now--were taken in by the performance, as moved now by the robot's Mass as they had been by his own farewell sermon. Mr. Dooley was making as much of a fool of himself as always, swaying from side to side with eyes closed, and Mrs. Ocura tried and failed to get the robot's attention. The others were... enraptured, even Bishop Otis. Carried on the waves of Father Andrew's melodious reading, all faces displayed a concentrated attention Father Zio had never seen during his own services. Maybe he was a heretic for even thinking it, but such devotion through the service of a soulless automaton could only be the work of Satan, couldn't it? He couldn't remember whether Pia had invoked papal infallibility in her encyclical, but everything he saw, everything he felt about this mockery of Mass, told him she couldn't have. In his mind's eye, he could see the souls of his flock blackening as they were swept away by the ministrations of this false idol.
This travesty had to stop.
#
"The body of Christ." Anatolyev, the station's third engineer, accepted the host on his extended tongue. Petr was a pious and honest member of the congregation. It always gave Father Zio hope to see such a hard scientist demonstrate such faith.
Not yet.
Next in line, Mrs. Ocura knelt for her Holy Communion. Impervious to her wiles, the robot intoned "The body of Christ" again, its voice pleasing and melodious even in this ritual phrase. The shuttle pilot was flirtatious and possibly adulterous, but essentially harmless.
Not yet.
Behind her was Mr. Dooley, already shivering in anticipation. Father Zio had tried to find patience in his heart for the old gas miner, but it was hard. His pious ecstasy was too obviously feigned, his regular confessions too loudly self-righteous if not all together fictitious.
Mrs. Ocura rose sinuously to her feet and stepped to the side to make her way back to her seat. Mr. Dooley rushed to take her place, dropping to his knees with bent head like a caricature of penitence. His deep sigh was audible all through the church module as he raised his head to accept the host.
Now.
Zio pressed the button in his pocket.
A slight stutter marred Father Andrew's movements. It recovered quickly, but its immaculate performance had lost its perfection. Zio smiled through his guilt.
"The bod--"
Confusion broke through Mr. Dooley's serene mask. The robot stood frozen, host extended, face still.
"The bod--"
This time, the interrupted word was followed by a brief burst of static. No one in the congregation could mistake Father Andrew for a human any longer. Its face contorted in a rapid-fire sequence of expressions as its operating system fought the Trojan Father Zio had uploaded the night before.
It had been an easy hack, really. Access is ninety percent of hacking, he used to say, and the robot had a maintenance port in the back of the head, right under the hairline, as well as a wide-open RC module. Making the modifications to freeze the Father mid-mass had been no effort at all.
"Bod--"
"Father?" Mr. Dooley got to his feet and extended a hesitant hand towards the stalled automaton.
And perhaps he should have stopped there. Judging by the outrage on the faces in the congregation, this was enough: they would never accept his replacement now, insist on his staying on. Perhaps this was enough. But the final insult had come once he had accessed the OS and called up the sysinfo.
Father Andrew was a modified entertainment model.
He had been replaced by Crooner 3.2.
Even though it had been enough to convince his flock, even if he'd had a second button to stop this, the Church deserved the embarrassment. And his great-grandfather's collection of late twentieth century classical music had provided the perfect finishing touch.
"--body down to the ground," Father Andrew suddenly sang as Father Zio's Trojan broke through the final lines of defense. The robot struck a pose, and slid into a smooth, rapid disco jive, scattering hosts.
"Let's dance, let's shout, shout, shake your body down to the ground!"
The parishioners got to their feet as Mr. Dooley recoiled. Scattered shouts of indignant fury accompanied the crowd to the double doors. Mrs. Ocura slammed the panel, causing the lights to flicker even as the doors sighed open.
And while his parishioners, without missing a beat, clawed their way through the open doors and floated into the hallway, and Bishop Otis attempted to air-swim down the aisle towards the altar, Father Zio assumed a relaxed pose some distance above his seat, and watched in contentment as Father Andrew attempted to moonwalk on thin air.
#
Father Zio accepted his penance, not because he deserved it--though he believed he did--but because his penance and his purpose coincided. He thought Bishop Otis suspected as much, but faced with a choice between leaving Psi Parish unshepherded, assuming the local priesthood himself, and reinstating Zio, the Bishop probably didn't think he had much of a choice at all.
The Hail Mary's and Lord's Prayers, though, he would double on his own account, for while he believed he had done the right thing, it had been disrespectful and disobedient. He would pray, and he would make more of an effort to inspire and raise the spirits of his flock; the robot had at least given him that much more motivation.
"Te absolvo," the Bishop said behind the lattice, with a hint of reluctance.
"Thank you, Most Reverend," he whispered getting up. "And God bless you."
#
Bishop Otis stayed seated in the confessional for a few more minutes, eyes closed, in apparent meditation. Then he stood up, with an almost subliminal hum.
THE END
“请宽恕我,圣父。我有罪。我已经有……”泽欧神父叹了口气。“我已经有十三年没有在现实世界做过忏悔了。”
坐在镂空窗后的奥蒂斯主教在椅子上挪动了几下。
“但是——”主教停顿了一下接着说:“那么你最近一次的在线忏悔是什么时候做的?”
“一周之前,圣父。可这不是一回事。不是一回事。”
“接着说,孩子。”
“我时常会对教区内的教友心怀恶念。我不时会产生色欲。”泽欧神父安静的笑起来。只要看到某先生在每次弥撒上像表演滑稽剧一样装出欣喜若狂的样子,最圣洁的头脑也会产生刻薄的念头,更何况他这个经过拯救的有缺陷的灵魂。至于奥修拉夫人的乳沟嘛……有些东西还是值得多念几遍圣母颂的。
“接着说,孩子。”
主教的提示让他意识到他一直在微不足道的小罪过上打转,对真正的罪过避而不谈。其实他对自己应该告解的罪过一清二楚。泽欧神父相信告解的力量,他需要净化自己的灵魂。然而不夸张的说,由奥蒂斯主教听他做告解还真是不幸。没关系。再拖延下去也没有意义。
“我犯了傲慢的罪行。我违背了教会的意愿。”这就是真相。如果奥蒂斯主教还在怀疑他,现在就可以确定了。“我违抗了……您,圣父。”
镂空窗后的人倒吸了一口气,之后是长长的沉默。然后:
“怎么会这样,孩子?”
#
一个星期前,奥蒂斯主教向泽欧神父介绍了他的继任者。
不得不承认,安德鲁称得上以假乱真。这位新来的神父在任何集会中都会被当做人类,它只有从座位上起身时才会发出一点几不可闻的嗡鸣声。他们花了十五分钟辩论教义。精通圣经和宗教哲学的安德鲁给泽欧神父留下了深刻的印象,他认为安德鲁的存在对自己是一种威胁。
“请两位决定实际的操作流程吧。”它的嗓音完美的体现出和善与谦恭。泽欧毫不怀疑它在不同的场合能自如地运用适当的嗓音。“如果您需要我,我就在‘庇护六世’号上。”这艘主教专用飞船停靠在42号气闸,主教会乘坐它返回主教辖区。主教和泽欧一起返回——如果尊敬的主教大人得偿所愿的话。
“好的,谢谢,安德鲁。”
泽欧舱室的门嘶嘶的关上了,隔绝了外侧的K走廊。奥蒂斯主教仍然站在安德鲁神父坐过的那张朴素的沙发后面,双手隐藏在紫色长袍宽大的袖子里,面带和善的笑容,仿佛在为离去的神父祝福。泽欧神父想要质问主教,但是盛怒中产生的各种问题反而让他沉默了。主教巧妙的开启了话题。
“神父,准备好迎接补赎后的生活了么?”
这才是他想要的结果。这位新任主教的行事风格和他的上一任——阿莫奈主教——有很大的不同。泽欧神父还没准备好谈论这种明摆着的事实。或者说他不想谈。
“机器人?您要用机器人取代我,尊敬的主教大人?”
“教廷创建了一个新的词语‘辅助造物晋牧’。不过,事实就是这样,机器人。如果你喜欢这种说法。”主教脸上和善的笑容根本骗不了泽欧神父。
“不。”泽欧神父的脑子里满是反对、争论和愤怒的叫嚷,但他只说出了一个表示否定的字。
“孩子,难道你没有意识到主教辖区为你提供了什么吗?赦罪,补赎的结束,行星靠近地球侧的平和会众。如果天随人愿,在合适的状况下,你还会在地球上服务会众。你曾经的罪过都会被赦免,泽欧。难道这一切不是你想要的?”
他曾经的罪过。泽欧神父从来不想听到别人如此直接的提起它。就在他照看这一方微小而又与世隔绝的堂区期间,母教会那边一定发生了什么变化。也有可能只是这位新任主教喜欢这种世俗化的,直抒胸臆的表达方式。尽管不论怎么想,用这种方式提起泽欧神父的首次任命都很不合适。
当他在监狱里感悟到基督的时候,他还只是泽欧,因一系列网络犯罪行为正在服刑。教会接受了他,对他进行教导,还为他授予圣职,但并没有真正宽恕他。他在幽暗的内心深处仍不时地琢磨,他伤害了那么多无辜的人,教会对此到底有多愤怒;他从多个梵蒂冈银行秘密账户中窃取钱财,教会对此又是什么态度。尽管实际上无关紧要,他还是考虑为自己导致的死亡而在破败的‘前哨普赛’号飞船上进行相应的补赎。
“尊敬的主教大人,我无意冒犯您,但这并不是重点。我很确信对于飞船来说,像安德鲁神父这样的机器人物美价廉,而且供应充足。但这种理由并不能让他成为神父!一个机器人怎么能服务会众?一个机器人怎么能和天主圣三进行沟通?接下来主教辖区要训练猴子当神父么?还是说教会现在承认机器人也拥有灵魂?”
奥蒂斯主教有一瞬间的畏惧,但他立刻恢复了信心,脸上挂着冷淡的愤怒。
“看起来你没有认真研读女教宗陛下的通谕,泽欧神父。”
泽欧绞尽脑汁回想最近一份教宗信件的内容,想起来信里通告了一个星系级别的重大变动。对于该通谕普遍接受的解释是:皮娅四世想要接受智能异族加入教会。而泽欧在脑海中重温了这段文字后意识到,这种措辞完全可以套用到人工智能上——也就是机器人。
“是我的错。”除了这句话,他不敢再说别的。
“我赦免你。”奥蒂斯主教心不在焉的对他做了个祝福的手势。“对你来说这是个机会,泽奥;我本以为你明白这一点。你已经不再年轻了,而且坦白的说,前几个月的……那几次事故……”
别再提这事了。
之前发生了两起事故,只有两起。两起事故都是因为普赛号上反重力系统的不当维护引起的。这年月,什么都能导致故障,像是一次打开太多的应用啦,放下发光板时用力过猛啦。反重力系统第一次出毛病时,泽欧神父正在分发作为圣血的葡萄酒。突然冒出的烟雾把正在飘浮着的会众熏成了花脸,有些人还吐了。随后蜡烛点着了蒸发的酒精,和着烟雾生成了一个相当壮观的火球,在祭坛上方爆裂开来。除了祭坛布上的几处焦洞和几条被燎着的眉毛,倒是没什么别的损失。第二次,有一个圣水球在教堂里漂浮,这是为了让教友进入堂内时能将手插入圣水中。现在看这就是个脑残的主意,但当时大家都还觉得这个方法挺实用的:小水滴不断从水球里散落出来,泼溅到堂内的各个角落,就在这时反重力系统恢复了船内的重力。
用这些事情来指控他实在有些牵强。用这些来证明他的年迈无能更是让泽欧神父怒火中烧。
“无意冒犯,尊敬的主教大人。我的回答仍然是‘不’。我的会众需要一个真正的神父,一个人类神父,一个拥有灵魂的神父。他们不需要人造制品按照预先编制好的程序指导他们如何举行仪式,和他们对唱经文。也许以您的标准来看这个堂区不大,这里的教友数量也许还不到总人口的百分之一,但是您的想法会影响到十四个不朽的灵魂。”
主教终于听不下去了。他抬起右手示意泽欧不要再说下去。
“注意你的言辞,神父。不怀好意的耳朵也许会认为你是在反对女教宗陛下。坦率的说,你没有选择拒绝或接受的资格。这是教会的意愿。你只要遵从安排就可以了!”
教会的惯用手段:用异端邪说做威胁,要求得到服从。虽然他全心全意的相信这么做会危及他的教友们永恒的生命,可他也曾纪发誓要服务于教会。再争论下去是不理智的。
不过理智可从来不是他的优点。
#
泽欧神父不得不承认,机器人的行为无可挑剔。他自认为是个很称职的神父,精通仪式程序,但安德鲁和他完全不同。泽欧神父一边鄙视自己,一边感受着仪式的韵律,和会众一起在空中唱和经文,在空中进行祈祷。他不得不提醒自己这一切都是虚假的,是靠着自动化的程序展现出的完美表演;他的行为是作为神职人员的理智对当前场景做出的条件反射,而不是这场事先编制好的弥撒真的打动了他。在对机器人话音缓和的共鸣中,这个实用主义风格的金属舱内呈现出一种肃穆的敬意。
他的指尖抚过长袍口袋里的东西。
从他在祭坛边的座位上,他能看到他的教众——不,现在是安德鲁的了——都投入到这场表演中。他们被机器人的弥撒所打动,就像被他的告别布道所打动一样。杜雷先生闭着眼睛摇摆着身体,一如既往的自欺欺人。奥修拉夫人试图得到机器人的关注,却没成功。其他人……都是一脸狂喜的样子,就连奥蒂斯主教也不例外。安德鲁神父继续用悠扬的声调颂读经文,所有人的脸上都是一副专注的表情,泽欧神父从来没在他主持的仪式上见过这种表情。也许仅仅是怀有这种想法就会让他成为异教徒,但是所有人在一个没有灵魂的机器人主持的仪式上都这么投入,这么虔诚——这种事只有撒旦才能做到,难道不是么?他不记得皮娅教宗在她的通谕中是否援引了“教宗无谬论”。但在这场弥撒的模仿秀上,他的眼之所见,他的亲身感受无一不向他证明教宗没有那么做。在这个虚假人偶主持的仪式中,泽欧用自己的心灵之眼看到他的教众的灵魂在逐渐变黑。
一定要停止这场荒谬的闹剧。
#
“基督的身体。” 阿那托勒,飞船上的三管轮,伸出舌头接受了祭饼。佩特,一个虔诚老实的教友。看到自然科学家虔诚地展示自己的信仰,总能让泽欧神父充满希望。
还不到时候。
在接下来的一排人里,奥修拉夫人跪下来领取圣餐。机器人对她勾引人的把戏视而不见,又吟诵了一遍“基督的身体”。即便是在典礼阶段,它的声音依然悠扬,令人愉悦。飞船驾驶员喜欢卖弄风情,也许还和别人有染,但本质上不是个坏人。
还不到时候。
杜雷先生站在她后面,浑身发抖地期待着他那份圣餐。泽欧神父曾试图在自己内心为这个老油气开采工寻找一份耐心,不过太难了。他虔诚的狂喜表情一看就知道是装出来的,他定期做的那些大嗓门的忏悔,如果不都是编造的,至少也充满了自以为是。
奥修拉夫人扭动着腰身站起来,走回她的座位。杜雷先生赶忙填补了她留出的空位,低着头跪了下去,构成了一副正在进行忏悔的漫画。在他抬起头领圣饼的时候,整个堂内都能听到他长长的叹息声。
就是现在。
泽欧按下了口袋里的按钮。
安德鲁神父的行动出现了一点儿停顿。它很快就恢复了,但是它精准的表演不再那么完美。泽欧为他的罪行微笑起来。
“基督的——”
困惑的表情打破了杜雷先生平和的面具。机器人一动不动的站在那里,拿着圣饼的手伸着,面无表情。
“基督的——”
这一次,伴随着说了一半的话语响起了一道短促的静电声。没有哪位会众还会认为安德鲁神父是个人类了。泽欧神父昨天晚上向安德鲁的操作系统上传了一个木马病毒,现在病毒发作了,机器人的脸扭曲着,飞速闪过各种表情。
就是个简单的黑客行为,真没什么难度。他过去总是说,只要能接入,黑客行为就已经搞定了百分之九十。这台机器人在它脑后发际线的下方有一个用于维护的端口,和开放的RC舱室一样。在弥撒进行到一半的时候冻结神父毫不费力。
“基——”
“神父?”杜雷先生站起身,犹豫地向失控的机器人伸出一只手。
他也许应该点到为止。根据会众们愤怒的表情,他已经达到目的了:现在他们绝不会让他被替换掉,而是会坚持让他留下来。也许这就足够了。不过既然他已经入侵了操作系统并且更换了系统信息,所以还会有最后的羞辱。
安德鲁神父是个经过修改的娱乐型机器人。
泽欧为它刷入了“低吟浅唱”3.2版。
尽管现在的情形已经能够让他的教友相信安德鲁不是个人类,然而就算他还有第二个按钮可以停止这一切,教会也应该遭受一次窘境。而他曾祖父收藏的那些二十世纪末的经典音乐,正好能给这次事故加上致命一击。
“——身体,全力以赴”安德鲁神父突然唱起了歌,看来泽欧神父的木马程序已经攻破了系统的最终防线。机器人摆了个造型,然后动作连贯地跳起了迪斯科,把圣饼撒得到处都是。
“跳起来,喊出来,喊啊,摇摆你们的身体,全力以赴!”
杜雷先生向后退缩,其他的教友站了起来。愤怒的叫喊声此起彼伏,人群涌向大门。奥修拉夫人使劲拍打着门板,大门悲鸣着打开了,指示灯依然闪烁。
随着他的教友毫不迟疑手刨脚蹬地通过大门飘进走廊,随着奥蒂斯主教划动手臂试图从耳堂降到祭坛,泽欧神父在他的座椅上方做出一个放松的姿势,心满意足地看着安德鲁神父试图在飘浮状态下走出太空步。
#
泽欧神父接受了继续进行补赎,并不是因为他罪有应得——虽然他的确这么认为——而是因为他的补赎和他的目的一致。他认为奥蒂斯主教对他有所怀疑。不过要么是普赛号上的堂区无人负责,要么主教需要亲自掌管这里,要么让泽欧恢复原职,或许主教也不认为他还有别的选择。
为了自己,泽欧愿意多念几遍圣母颂和主祷文,虽然他认为自己做了正确的事,但那怎么说都是对教会的不敬和违抗。他会祈祷,他会加倍努力地激发并提升他的教友们的灵魂;至少那个机器人让他有了这个动力。
“我赦免你。”镂空窗后面的主教有些不太情愿的说。
“谢谢,尊敬的主教大人。”他站起身轻声说。“愿主保佑你。”
#
奥蒂斯主教在告解室内又坐了几分钟,双目闭合,显然是在冥思。随后他站起身,发出一点几不可闻的嗡鸣声。
——————————————————————————————--
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By Floris M. Kleijne
Translated By Ninesnow
2014-11
彗星科幻
(译文见后)
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been..." Father Zio sighed. "It's been thirteen years since my last IRL confession."
Behind the lattice, Bishop Otis shifted in his seat.
"But--" the Bishop said. He paused before continuing: "And how long has it been since your last online confession?"
"A week, Father. But it's not the same. It's not."
"Go on, my son."
"I have harbored unkind thoughts at times, about members of my flock. I have had lustful thoughts at times." Father Zio smiled quietly to himself. Mr. Dooley's dramatic antics of feigned ecstasy at every Mass were enough to bring unkind thoughts to the holiest of minds, never mind his own flawed, rehabilitated soul. As for Mrs. Ocura's cleavage... Let's just say some things were worth a couple of Hail-Mary's.
"Go on, my son."
The Bishop's prompt made him realize he was marking time with these minor sins, postponing the inevitable, while he knew exactly what he should be confessing instead. Father Zio believed in confession, needed the cleansing of his soul. But it was unfortunate, to say the least, that Bishop Otis was the one taking it. No matter. No sense delaying any longer.
"I have been prideful. I have defied the wishes of the Holy Church." There. That would put an end to any doubt Bishop Otis might still have had. "I have defied... you, Father."
From behind the lattice came the sound of indrawn breath, followed by a long silence. Then:
"How so, my son?"
#
The week before, Bishop Otis had introduced Father Zio to his replacement.
Admittedly, Andrew had been convincing. Except for an almost subliminal hum when it stood up from its seat, the new priest could have passed for human in any gathering. They had spent fifteen minutes arguing doctrine, and Andrew's command of Scripture and religious philosophy had been impressive to the point of intimidation.
"I'll leave you two to discuss the practicalities." Its voice carried perfect timbres of kindness and self-effacing respect. Zio had no doubt it could cast its voice to the proper tone for any occasion. "If you need me, I'll be on board the Pius VI." The episcopal vessel was moored off air lock 42, waiting to take the Bishop back to the diocese. The Bishop and, if the Most Reverend had his way, Zio as well.
"Yes, thank you, Andrew."
The door between Zio's chambers and corridor K hissed closed. Bishop Otis was still standing behind the plain sofa where Father Andrew had sat, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his purple cassock, smiling benignly as if bestowing a blessing on the departed priest. Father Zio rounded on the Bishop, but his many outraged questions battled him into silence. The Bishop neatly stepped into the opening.
"So, Father, do you feel ready to start your life after penance?"
So that was how he wanted to play it. This new Bishop was very different from his late predecessor, Bishop Armanez. But Father Zio wasn't ready--or willing--to talk around the elephant in the room.
"A robot? You'd replace me with a robot, Most Reverend?"
"The Holy See has coined the term Paracreational Shepherd. But yes, a robot, if you will." The benign smile on the Bishop's face didn't fool Zio for a moment.
"No." Father Zio's mind teemed with objections, arguments, outraged exclamations, but the single negation was all he could utter.
"My son, do you realize what the diocese is offering you? Absolution, the end to your penance, an easy, planet-side congregation close to Earth. God willing, a congregation on Earth itself, when it comes available. To be absolved of the sins in your past, Zio. Isn't that what you want?"
The sins in his past. Father Zio would never have expected it to be put so bluntly. Things must have changed in the Mother Church while he tended this tiny backwater parish. Or maybe it was just this new Bishop who preferred a mundane, speak-your-mind approach that would have been considered shockingly inappropriate when Father Zio was first ordained.
He had been just Zio when he found Christ in prison, doing hard time for a wide range of cybercrimes. The Church had accepted him, taught him, ordained him, but hadn't readily forgiven him. In the dark recesses of his mind, he still wondered sometimes how much of their outrage had been about the innocent victims he had made, and how much about the moneys he had liberated from various hidden Vatican Bank accounts. It didn't really matter though: he considered his service on dilapidated Outpost Psi fair penance for the deaths he had caused.
"Most Reverend, with all due respect, that is not the point. I'm sure Father Andrew was easy to replicate and cheap to ship, but that doesn't make him a priest! How can a robot ever serve a congregation? How can a robot commune with the Holy Trinity? Will the Diocese train monkeys next? Or is it now the position of the Church that robots possess a soul?"
Bishop Otis actually flinched for a second, but he quickly recovered into icy fury.
"It seems you read Her Holiness's encyclicals with less attention than you should, Father Zio."
Zio racked his brain. There had been upheaval at an almost Galactic level over the last papal missive. The accepted interpretation of the encyclical was that Pia IV wished to open the Church to alien intelligences. But reviewing the text in his head, Zio realized that the exact wording could as easily be made applicable to artificial intelligences--to robots.
"Mea culpa." He did not trust himself to say anything else.
"Te absolvo." The Bishop absently waved a blessing at his priest. "This is an opportunity for you, Zio; I would have expected you to see that. You're not getting any younger, and frankly, these... incidents in the last months..."
Not that again.
There had been two incidents, two. And both had been a result of the ill-maintained AG systems on Psi. It seemed that anything might cause a malfunction these days, from turning on too many appliances at once, to slamming the light panel too forcefully. First time the AG faltered, Father Zio had been pouring the sacramental wine. The fumes had first stained and nauseated his floating congregation, and then burst into a spectacular fireball above the altar as the candles ignited the vaporized alcohol. Except some charring of the altar cloth, and a couple of singed eyebrows, the damage had been limited. The second time, a ball of holy water had drifted up through the Church. Letting his parishioners plunge their hands into it as they entered had admittedly been ill-advised, however practical it had seemed at the time: the scattered smaller and smaller droplets had splashed all over the church module when gravity returned.
Holding these against him was a stretch. Using them as proof of his senile incompetence infuriated Father Zio.
"With all due respect, Most Reverend, I still say No. My congregation needs a real priest, a human priest, one with a soul; not some artificial collection of rote liturgy and pre-packaged responses. It may not be a large parish by your standards, they may number less than a percent of the population here, but these are fourteen immortal souls you're playing with."
That, finally, got a rise out of the Bishop. He jerked his right hand free and raised it.
"Careful, Father. An unkind ear might think you're contradicting Her Holiness. And frankly, it is not your place to refuse or accept. This is the wish of your Church. It is your place to meekly comply!"
That was it. The threat of heresy, and the demand for obedience. And while he believed with all his heart and soul that this was dangerous to the life eternal of his flock, he had sworn to serve the Church. No sense arguing any longer.
Sense had never been his strong suit, though.
#
Father Zio had to admit that the robot performed remarkably well. He considered himself a good priest, a master of liturgy, but Andrew was something else entirely. Despite himself, Zio, felt himself being swept along in the rhythms of the service, participating in the congregational responses, carried aloft on the prayers. He had to remind himself that this was artificial, an automated performance honed to perfection, his own sense of the Divine a conditioned response rather than a real effect of this canned Mass. Even the utilitarian metal interior of the small module took on a sepulchral reverence under the slow echoes of the robot's voice.
He fingered the object in his cassock pocket.
From his seat to the side of the altar, he could see that the members of his flock--no, Andrew's now--were taken in by the performance, as moved now by the robot's Mass as they had been by his own farewell sermon. Mr. Dooley was making as much of a fool of himself as always, swaying from side to side with eyes closed, and Mrs. Ocura tried and failed to get the robot's attention. The others were... enraptured, even Bishop Otis. Carried on the waves of Father Andrew's melodious reading, all faces displayed a concentrated attention Father Zio had never seen during his own services. Maybe he was a heretic for even thinking it, but such devotion through the service of a soulless automaton could only be the work of Satan, couldn't it? He couldn't remember whether Pia had invoked papal infallibility in her encyclical, but everything he saw, everything he felt about this mockery of Mass, told him she couldn't have. In his mind's eye, he could see the souls of his flock blackening as they were swept away by the ministrations of this false idol.
This travesty had to stop.
#
"The body of Christ." Anatolyev, the station's third engineer, accepted the host on his extended tongue. Petr was a pious and honest member of the congregation. It always gave Father Zio hope to see such a hard scientist demonstrate such faith.
Not yet.
Next in line, Mrs. Ocura knelt for her Holy Communion. Impervious to her wiles, the robot intoned "The body of Christ" again, its voice pleasing and melodious even in this ritual phrase. The shuttle pilot was flirtatious and possibly adulterous, but essentially harmless.
Not yet.
Behind her was Mr. Dooley, already shivering in anticipation. Father Zio had tried to find patience in his heart for the old gas miner, but it was hard. His pious ecstasy was too obviously feigned, his regular confessions too loudly self-righteous if not all together fictitious.
Mrs. Ocura rose sinuously to her feet and stepped to the side to make her way back to her seat. Mr. Dooley rushed to take her place, dropping to his knees with bent head like a caricature of penitence. His deep sigh was audible all through the church module as he raised his head to accept the host.
Now.
Zio pressed the button in his pocket.
A slight stutter marred Father Andrew's movements. It recovered quickly, but its immaculate performance had lost its perfection. Zio smiled through his guilt.
"The bod--"
Confusion broke through Mr. Dooley's serene mask. The robot stood frozen, host extended, face still.
"The bod--"
This time, the interrupted word was followed by a brief burst of static. No one in the congregation could mistake Father Andrew for a human any longer. Its face contorted in a rapid-fire sequence of expressions as its operating system fought the Trojan Father Zio had uploaded the night before.
It had been an easy hack, really. Access is ninety percent of hacking, he used to say, and the robot had a maintenance port in the back of the head, right under the hairline, as well as a wide-open RC module. Making the modifications to freeze the Father mid-mass had been no effort at all.
"Bod--"
"Father?" Mr. Dooley got to his feet and extended a hesitant hand towards the stalled automaton.
And perhaps he should have stopped there. Judging by the outrage on the faces in the congregation, this was enough: they would never accept his replacement now, insist on his staying on. Perhaps this was enough. But the final insult had come once he had accessed the OS and called up the sysinfo.
Father Andrew was a modified entertainment model.
He had been replaced by Crooner 3.2.
Even though it had been enough to convince his flock, even if he'd had a second button to stop this, the Church deserved the embarrassment. And his great-grandfather's collection of late twentieth century classical music had provided the perfect finishing touch.
"--body down to the ground," Father Andrew suddenly sang as Father Zio's Trojan broke through the final lines of defense. The robot struck a pose, and slid into a smooth, rapid disco jive, scattering hosts.
"Let's dance, let's shout, shout, shake your body down to the ground!"
The parishioners got to their feet as Mr. Dooley recoiled. Scattered shouts of indignant fury accompanied the crowd to the double doors. Mrs. Ocura slammed the panel, causing the lights to flicker even as the doors sighed open.
And while his parishioners, without missing a beat, clawed their way through the open doors and floated into the hallway, and Bishop Otis attempted to air-swim down the aisle towards the altar, Father Zio assumed a relaxed pose some distance above his seat, and watched in contentment as Father Andrew attempted to moonwalk on thin air.
#
Father Zio accepted his penance, not because he deserved it--though he believed he did--but because his penance and his purpose coincided. He thought Bishop Otis suspected as much, but faced with a choice between leaving Psi Parish unshepherded, assuming the local priesthood himself, and reinstating Zio, the Bishop probably didn't think he had much of a choice at all.
The Hail Mary's and Lord's Prayers, though, he would double on his own account, for while he believed he had done the right thing, it had been disrespectful and disobedient. He would pray, and he would make more of an effort to inspire and raise the spirits of his flock; the robot had at least given him that much more motivation.
"Te absolvo," the Bishop said behind the lattice, with a hint of reluctance.
"Thank you, Most Reverend," he whispered getting up. "And God bless you."
#
Bishop Otis stayed seated in the confessional for a few more minutes, eyes closed, in apparent meditation. Then he stood up, with an almost subliminal hum.
THE END
“请宽恕我,圣父。我有罪。我已经有……”泽欧神父叹了口气。“我已经有十三年没有在现实世界做过忏悔了。”
坐在镂空窗后的奥蒂斯主教在椅子上挪动了几下。
“但是——”主教停顿了一下接着说:“那么你最近一次的在线忏悔是什么时候做的?”
“一周之前,圣父。可这不是一回事。不是一回事。”
“接着说,孩子。”
“我时常会对教区内的教友心怀恶念。我不时会产生色欲。”泽欧神父安静的笑起来。只要看到某先生在每次弥撒上像表演滑稽剧一样装出欣喜若狂的样子,最圣洁的头脑也会产生刻薄的念头,更何况他这个经过拯救的有缺陷的灵魂。至于奥修拉夫人的乳沟嘛……有些东西还是值得多念几遍圣母颂的。
“接着说,孩子。”
主教的提示让他意识到他一直在微不足道的小罪过上打转,对真正的罪过避而不谈。其实他对自己应该告解的罪过一清二楚。泽欧神父相信告解的力量,他需要净化自己的灵魂。然而不夸张的说,由奥蒂斯主教听他做告解还真是不幸。没关系。再拖延下去也没有意义。
“我犯了傲慢的罪行。我违背了教会的意愿。”这就是真相。如果奥蒂斯主教还在怀疑他,现在就可以确定了。“我违抗了……您,圣父。”
镂空窗后的人倒吸了一口气,之后是长长的沉默。然后:
“怎么会这样,孩子?”
#
一个星期前,奥蒂斯主教向泽欧神父介绍了他的继任者。
不得不承认,安德鲁称得上以假乱真。这位新来的神父在任何集会中都会被当做人类,它只有从座位上起身时才会发出一点几不可闻的嗡鸣声。他们花了十五分钟辩论教义。精通圣经和宗教哲学的安德鲁给泽欧神父留下了深刻的印象,他认为安德鲁的存在对自己是一种威胁。
“请两位决定实际的操作流程吧。”它的嗓音完美的体现出和善与谦恭。泽欧毫不怀疑它在不同的场合能自如地运用适当的嗓音。“如果您需要我,我就在‘庇护六世’号上。”这艘主教专用飞船停靠在42号气闸,主教会乘坐它返回主教辖区。主教和泽欧一起返回——如果尊敬的主教大人得偿所愿的话。
“好的,谢谢,安德鲁。”
泽欧舱室的门嘶嘶的关上了,隔绝了外侧的K走廊。奥蒂斯主教仍然站在安德鲁神父坐过的那张朴素的沙发后面,双手隐藏在紫色长袍宽大的袖子里,面带和善的笑容,仿佛在为离去的神父祝福。泽欧神父想要质问主教,但是盛怒中产生的各种问题反而让他沉默了。主教巧妙的开启了话题。
“神父,准备好迎接补赎后的生活了么?”
这才是他想要的结果。这位新任主教的行事风格和他的上一任——阿莫奈主教——有很大的不同。泽欧神父还没准备好谈论这种明摆着的事实。或者说他不想谈。
“机器人?您要用机器人取代我,尊敬的主教大人?”
“教廷创建了一个新的词语‘辅助造物晋牧’。不过,事实就是这样,机器人。如果你喜欢这种说法。”主教脸上和善的笑容根本骗不了泽欧神父。
“不。”泽欧神父的脑子里满是反对、争论和愤怒的叫嚷,但他只说出了一个表示否定的字。
“孩子,难道你没有意识到主教辖区为你提供了什么吗?赦罪,补赎的结束,行星靠近地球侧的平和会众。如果天随人愿,在合适的状况下,你还会在地球上服务会众。你曾经的罪过都会被赦免,泽欧。难道这一切不是你想要的?”
他曾经的罪过。泽欧神父从来不想听到别人如此直接的提起它。就在他照看这一方微小而又与世隔绝的堂区期间,母教会那边一定发生了什么变化。也有可能只是这位新任主教喜欢这种世俗化的,直抒胸臆的表达方式。尽管不论怎么想,用这种方式提起泽欧神父的首次任命都很不合适。
当他在监狱里感悟到基督的时候,他还只是泽欧,因一系列网络犯罪行为正在服刑。教会接受了他,对他进行教导,还为他授予圣职,但并没有真正宽恕他。他在幽暗的内心深处仍不时地琢磨,他伤害了那么多无辜的人,教会对此到底有多愤怒;他从多个梵蒂冈银行秘密账户中窃取钱财,教会对此又是什么态度。尽管实际上无关紧要,他还是考虑为自己导致的死亡而在破败的‘前哨普赛’号飞船上进行相应的补赎。
“尊敬的主教大人,我无意冒犯您,但这并不是重点。我很确信对于飞船来说,像安德鲁神父这样的机器人物美价廉,而且供应充足。但这种理由并不能让他成为神父!一个机器人怎么能服务会众?一个机器人怎么能和天主圣三进行沟通?接下来主教辖区要训练猴子当神父么?还是说教会现在承认机器人也拥有灵魂?”
奥蒂斯主教有一瞬间的畏惧,但他立刻恢复了信心,脸上挂着冷淡的愤怒。
“看起来你没有认真研读女教宗陛下的通谕,泽欧神父。”
泽欧绞尽脑汁回想最近一份教宗信件的内容,想起来信里通告了一个星系级别的重大变动。对于该通谕普遍接受的解释是:皮娅四世想要接受智能异族加入教会。而泽欧在脑海中重温了这段文字后意识到,这种措辞完全可以套用到人工智能上——也就是机器人。
“是我的错。”除了这句话,他不敢再说别的。
“我赦免你。”奥蒂斯主教心不在焉的对他做了个祝福的手势。“对你来说这是个机会,泽奥;我本以为你明白这一点。你已经不再年轻了,而且坦白的说,前几个月的……那几次事故……”
别再提这事了。
之前发生了两起事故,只有两起。两起事故都是因为普赛号上反重力系统的不当维护引起的。这年月,什么都能导致故障,像是一次打开太多的应用啦,放下发光板时用力过猛啦。反重力系统第一次出毛病时,泽欧神父正在分发作为圣血的葡萄酒。突然冒出的烟雾把正在飘浮着的会众熏成了花脸,有些人还吐了。随后蜡烛点着了蒸发的酒精,和着烟雾生成了一个相当壮观的火球,在祭坛上方爆裂开来。除了祭坛布上的几处焦洞和几条被燎着的眉毛,倒是没什么别的损失。第二次,有一个圣水球在教堂里漂浮,这是为了让教友进入堂内时能将手插入圣水中。现在看这就是个脑残的主意,但当时大家都还觉得这个方法挺实用的:小水滴不断从水球里散落出来,泼溅到堂内的各个角落,就在这时反重力系统恢复了船内的重力。
用这些事情来指控他实在有些牵强。用这些来证明他的年迈无能更是让泽欧神父怒火中烧。
“无意冒犯,尊敬的主教大人。我的回答仍然是‘不’。我的会众需要一个真正的神父,一个人类神父,一个拥有灵魂的神父。他们不需要人造制品按照预先编制好的程序指导他们如何举行仪式,和他们对唱经文。也许以您的标准来看这个堂区不大,这里的教友数量也许还不到总人口的百分之一,但是您的想法会影响到十四个不朽的灵魂。”
主教终于听不下去了。他抬起右手示意泽欧不要再说下去。
“注意你的言辞,神父。不怀好意的耳朵也许会认为你是在反对女教宗陛下。坦率的说,你没有选择拒绝或接受的资格。这是教会的意愿。你只要遵从安排就可以了!”
教会的惯用手段:用异端邪说做威胁,要求得到服从。虽然他全心全意的相信这么做会危及他的教友们永恒的生命,可他也曾纪发誓要服务于教会。再争论下去是不理智的。
不过理智可从来不是他的优点。
#
泽欧神父不得不承认,机器人的行为无可挑剔。他自认为是个很称职的神父,精通仪式程序,但安德鲁和他完全不同。泽欧神父一边鄙视自己,一边感受着仪式的韵律,和会众一起在空中唱和经文,在空中进行祈祷。他不得不提醒自己这一切都是虚假的,是靠着自动化的程序展现出的完美表演;他的行为是作为神职人员的理智对当前场景做出的条件反射,而不是这场事先编制好的弥撒真的打动了他。在对机器人话音缓和的共鸣中,这个实用主义风格的金属舱内呈现出一种肃穆的敬意。
他的指尖抚过长袍口袋里的东西。
从他在祭坛边的座位上,他能看到他的教众——不,现在是安德鲁的了——都投入到这场表演中。他们被机器人的弥撒所打动,就像被他的告别布道所打动一样。杜雷先生闭着眼睛摇摆着身体,一如既往的自欺欺人。奥修拉夫人试图得到机器人的关注,却没成功。其他人……都是一脸狂喜的样子,就连奥蒂斯主教也不例外。安德鲁神父继续用悠扬的声调颂读经文,所有人的脸上都是一副专注的表情,泽欧神父从来没在他主持的仪式上见过这种表情。也许仅仅是怀有这种想法就会让他成为异教徒,但是所有人在一个没有灵魂的机器人主持的仪式上都这么投入,这么虔诚——这种事只有撒旦才能做到,难道不是么?他不记得皮娅教宗在她的通谕中是否援引了“教宗无谬论”。但在这场弥撒的模仿秀上,他的眼之所见,他的亲身感受无一不向他证明教宗没有那么做。在这个虚假人偶主持的仪式中,泽欧用自己的心灵之眼看到他的教众的灵魂在逐渐变黑。
一定要停止这场荒谬的闹剧。
#
“基督的身体。” 阿那托勒,飞船上的三管轮,伸出舌头接受了祭饼。佩特,一个虔诚老实的教友。看到自然科学家虔诚地展示自己的信仰,总能让泽欧神父充满希望。
还不到时候。
在接下来的一排人里,奥修拉夫人跪下来领取圣餐。机器人对她勾引人的把戏视而不见,又吟诵了一遍“基督的身体”。即便是在典礼阶段,它的声音依然悠扬,令人愉悦。飞船驾驶员喜欢卖弄风情,也许还和别人有染,但本质上不是个坏人。
还不到时候。
杜雷先生站在她后面,浑身发抖地期待着他那份圣餐。泽欧神父曾试图在自己内心为这个老油气开采工寻找一份耐心,不过太难了。他虔诚的狂喜表情一看就知道是装出来的,他定期做的那些大嗓门的忏悔,如果不都是编造的,至少也充满了自以为是。
奥修拉夫人扭动着腰身站起来,走回她的座位。杜雷先生赶忙填补了她留出的空位,低着头跪了下去,构成了一副正在进行忏悔的漫画。在他抬起头领圣饼的时候,整个堂内都能听到他长长的叹息声。
就是现在。
泽欧按下了口袋里的按钮。
安德鲁神父的行动出现了一点儿停顿。它很快就恢复了,但是它精准的表演不再那么完美。泽欧为他的罪行微笑起来。
“基督的——”
困惑的表情打破了杜雷先生平和的面具。机器人一动不动的站在那里,拿着圣饼的手伸着,面无表情。
“基督的——”
这一次,伴随着说了一半的话语响起了一道短促的静电声。没有哪位会众还会认为安德鲁神父是个人类了。泽欧神父昨天晚上向安德鲁的操作系统上传了一个木马病毒,现在病毒发作了,机器人的脸扭曲着,飞速闪过各种表情。
就是个简单的黑客行为,真没什么难度。他过去总是说,只要能接入,黑客行为就已经搞定了百分之九十。这台机器人在它脑后发际线的下方有一个用于维护的端口,和开放的RC舱室一样。在弥撒进行到一半的时候冻结神父毫不费力。
“基——”
“神父?”杜雷先生站起身,犹豫地向失控的机器人伸出一只手。
他也许应该点到为止。根据会众们愤怒的表情,他已经达到目的了:现在他们绝不会让他被替换掉,而是会坚持让他留下来。也许这就足够了。不过既然他已经入侵了操作系统并且更换了系统信息,所以还会有最后的羞辱。
安德鲁神父是个经过修改的娱乐型机器人。
泽欧为它刷入了“低吟浅唱”3.2版。
尽管现在的情形已经能够让他的教友相信安德鲁不是个人类,然而就算他还有第二个按钮可以停止这一切,教会也应该遭受一次窘境。而他曾祖父收藏的那些二十世纪末的经典音乐,正好能给这次事故加上致命一击。
“——身体,全力以赴”安德鲁神父突然唱起了歌,看来泽欧神父的木马程序已经攻破了系统的最终防线。机器人摆了个造型,然后动作连贯地跳起了迪斯科,把圣饼撒得到处都是。
“跳起来,喊出来,喊啊,摇摆你们的身体,全力以赴!”
杜雷先生向后退缩,其他的教友站了起来。愤怒的叫喊声此起彼伏,人群涌向大门。奥修拉夫人使劲拍打着门板,大门悲鸣着打开了,指示灯依然闪烁。
随着他的教友毫不迟疑手刨脚蹬地通过大门飘进走廊,随着奥蒂斯主教划动手臂试图从耳堂降到祭坛,泽欧神父在他的座椅上方做出一个放松的姿势,心满意足地看着安德鲁神父试图在飘浮状态下走出太空步。
#
泽欧神父接受了继续进行补赎,并不是因为他罪有应得——虽然他的确这么认为——而是因为他的补赎和他的目的一致。他认为奥蒂斯主教对他有所怀疑。不过要么是普赛号上的堂区无人负责,要么主教需要亲自掌管这里,要么让泽欧恢复原职,或许主教也不认为他还有别的选择。
为了自己,泽欧愿意多念几遍圣母颂和主祷文,虽然他认为自己做了正确的事,但那怎么说都是对教会的不敬和违抗。他会祈祷,他会加倍努力地激发并提升他的教友们的灵魂;至少那个机器人让他有了这个动力。
“我赦免你。”镂空窗后面的主教有些不太情愿的说。
“谢谢,尊敬的主教大人。”他站起身轻声说。“愿主保佑你。”
#
奥蒂斯主教在告解室内又坐了几分钟,双目闭合,显然是在冥思。随后他站起身,发出一点几不可闻的嗡鸣声。
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