For the Caffeine Addicted Among You

[madrobins]

Every two weeks, give or take, my writers' group meets. We usually do a writing exercise of some sort, and yesterday I proposed that we each write a piece in which an everyday object is venerated as part of a religious practice. So we all wrote down an everyday object--a waffle iron, shampoo, a magazine, etc.--and put them in a hat, then drew one out each and spent 15 minutes on them. That means it's rough first draft. Still, the results were fun.

The acolytes line the nave, as Brother Tamos and Sister Clee walk with measured steps up the aisle, carrying the God Machine on its palanquin. It is small and dark--this is not a wealthy parish--but the brass fittings shine with a well-polished luster, candlelight dancing along the matte-finished sides. Brother Tamos reaches the altar first and turns to the right; Sister Clee moves left, so they flank the altar and Father Keine can more easily move the God Machine onto the altar.

As Father Keine adds beans into the hopper the acolytes, heads bowed and eyes shut, begin the Song of Awakening. Just as the song reaches its highest note the priest presses the button and the God Machine begins to grind, emitting a high whine that drives Sister Clee to her knees in ecstasy. A moment later, as the scent of dark-roasted beans fills the air, Father Keine leans over the machine, surrogate for them all, and breathes deeply the heady profound scent of ground beans, their gift released to the world. Father begins to speak in a low, hypnotic voice, telling the story of the first God Machine and how the People learned to use its gifts to grow closer to God herself.

As father speaks, Brother Tamos moves through the Stations of God: the gathering of the ground beans into their tiny filter cup, the sliding of the cup into the machine and, finally, the pressing of the switch at Father Keine's signal.

The acolytes cease their singing and hold their breaths. There is total silence in the church and then, at last, the hissing sound of steam and hot water forced through the grind.

Father Keine blesses the tiny cup and places it below the spigot. As the thick black liquid begins to drip into the cup, the mystical scen t is enough to make one acolyte sway with joy. At last the hissing ceases. The cup is full. Father Keine raises the cup high so that all may see it.

"Take and drink!" he intones. "For surely this is the black blood of our God."

He touches the cup to his lips, tasting just enough so that the golden foam is visible on his upper lip. Then hie passes the cup to Sister Clee, and thence down one row of acolytes and up again. Brother Tamos will be the last to taste God's blood. There will be enough for him: that is one of the miracles of the God Machine. No matter how many serve at the altar, there is always enough.
When he recieves the cup, Brother Tamos raises it up as Father Keine had done. Before everyone, he tastes the bitter dregs of the thick brew.

"Yea, it is good, unto even the last drop!"

A murmur of joy runs through the acolytes. The mass is ended.

It would have been better if I'd ever actually used an espresso machine, I suppose.