Horsepower and Processor Power
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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🎤 Audio Overview
The Engine and the Algorithm
Cast (Quick Map)
Pastor Peeler — optimistic sermon-smith; believes problems can be fixed with a committee and a casserole.
Mabel Dean Ashcroft — muffin monarch; prints bulletins; suspects anything that can’t be canned.
Boot Barnes — accidental philosopher in a seed cap; allergic to progress unless he thought of it first.
Clovis Grigsby — vigilance enthusiast; thinks drones are pigeons with diplomas.
Sheriff Peeler — keeper of peace; trusts his barometer elbow more than apps.
Eli Yoder — Mennonite deacon; can build a barn in an afternoon and an argument in half that.
Miriam Yoder — practical wisdom; sees the future two days early and speaks like it happened.
Jonas — their son; owns a secret flip phone and dreams of going faster than a buggy should.
Ruth — Miriam’s niece; texts like a poet; can quote scripture at 40 wpm.
Act I – Announcements, Algorithms, and a Brochure in a Bible
Act I – Announcements, Algorithms, and a Brochure in a Bible
The Sunday bulletin at Sequatchie Baptist tried to hold two centuries at once. In bold: “AI Innovation Fair — Fellowship Hall, Thursday 6 p.m. (Bring power strips, extension cords, and humility.)” Beneath that: “Men’s Breakfast postponed due to shortage of bacon and surplus of opinions.”
Mabel Dean, sovereign of the copier and guardian of commas, eyed Pastor Peeler. “You’re sure about this Aye-Eye business? Last time we hosted innovation, we had glitter in the hymnals until Advent.”
Pastor Peeler smiled. “Progress is yesterday’s miracle with a better user interface.”
Across the valley, a different bulletin fell out of a Bible in Eli Yoder’s barn: a glossy car brochure. The sedan on the cover leaned into a curve with a grin that looked like temptation with cupholders.
Jonas cleared his throat. “You can’t court Ruth with a horse forever, Papa. Weather don’t text you back.”
Miriam set a jar of preserves on the table. “Neither does God,” she said, “yet He still listens.”
That night, Jonas cupped a forbidden flip phone glowing like a captured firefly. He typed: “Ruth—are you awake?”
After a pause: “Always. What’s the weather of your soul?”
Act II – Committees and Conferences
Act II – Committees and Conferences
Scene 1: Fellowship Hall (Town)
Folding chairs shivered in straight rows. A refurbished gaming PC, disguised in a white tablecloth, sat like a guest at the wrong wedding. Extension cords snaked across the linoleum, seeking repentance.
Clovis taped up a sign: NO ROBOTS IN CHURCH (UNLESS THEY TITHE).
“What do we want AI to do?” Pastor Peeler asked, pen clicking like a tiny gavel.
“Not sermons,” Mabel said. “I can tell the difference between the Lord’s whisper and a thesaurus on espresso.”
“Can it do fishing reports without revealing my spots?” Boot asked.
“Can it detect drones disguised as pigeons disguised as clouds?” Clovis added.
“Can it tell folks to stop calling 911 about that windsock ghost?” Sheriff Peeler muttered.
They tested safe: last month’s minutes. The machine produced a version so tidy it offended history.
“It changed ‘Cole Slaw Incident’ to ‘Coleslaw Incident,’” Mabel sniffed. “That space is documentary.”
“It’s learning,” the Pastor said.
“So are we,” Mabel replied, “just slower and with better stories.”
Scene 2: The Plain Life Conference (Barn)
Lanterns made halos on serious faces. The Plain Life Conference convened to weigh phones, electricity, and motorcars.
“We have always asked,” Eli began, “Does a thing speed up life or deepen it?”
A young farmer: “My brother uses a smartphone for weather and markets. He don’t talk faster. He just gets wet less.”
Ruth, at the doorway: “Some tools charge your attention. Some charge your soul. Know your currency.”
The vote: phones allowed in barns for emergencies. A fence around a large animal. Ruth, on the way out, told Jonas: “If you want to send me the weather, write it like a psalm.”
Act III – Beta Tests and Bishoprics
Act III – Beta Tests and Bishoprics
Scene 1: AI Fair (Town)
The AI Innovation Fair looked like a yard sale for invisible things. A high schooler demoed a hymn selector; it recommended “A Mighty Fortress” for everything—grief, plumbing, and budget shortfalls.
Boot tried the garden planner. It suggested raised beds, companion planting, and a polite letter to rabbits. “If it can’t handle varmints,” Boot said, “it can’t handle me.”
Mabel tested a recipe optimizer with Mabel’s Molasses Muffins. It suggested cutting sugar 20% and adding orange zest. “You don’t zest the gospel,” she said. “You preach it.”
Clovis asked for an ordinance against “sky-based surveillance.” The preamble read: “Whereas the heavens are for glory and not for peeping…” Clovis dabbed a suspicious tear. “Poetry of liberty.”
On a lark, Pastor typed: “Sermon on fear of change, using Ecclesiastes.” A page slid out: “For in every time there is a turn, and in every turn there is a time; the fool calls the wind a thief and the wise call it weather.” The room went quiet like a thought.
Scene 2: A Bishop Visits (Barn)
The bishop tasted the air like a stew. “You are not called to be efficient,” he told them. “You’re called to be faithful. Sometimes those two marry. Sometimes they elope and leave you the dishes.”
Eli: “What of phones in barns for storms?”
Bishop: “When the sky speaks, the Lord is taking attendance. If a bell helps you hear, ring the bell. Just don’t build a choir of bells.”
Jonas felt the phone’s weight in his pocket like a coin borrowed from the future.
Act IV – The Storm, The Signal, and the Second Sermon
Act IV – The Storm, The Signal, and the Second Sermon
Scene 1: City Hall & Fellowship Hall (Town)
Storms rolled in with three languages of thunder. At City Hall, the jury-rigged flood model ran on the borrowed PC, fed by USGS trickles and Sheriff’s elbow barometer.
“It says the low-water crossing turns bad in sixty-three minutes,” Sheriff said. “Sixty-two now,” Clovis corrected, like a man timing a magic trick.
Mabel called the fellowship hall to mobilize sandwiches. “Cold cuts,” she said. “The Lord doesn’t need a hot mess tonight.”
Pastor folded the AI sermon into his pocket. It felt heavier than paper.
Scene 2: Yoder Barns & Back Roads (Barn)
The creek found a new voice. Jonas reached for the forbidden phone—hesitated—then cranked the radio and broadcast: “Flood rising at Mill Span. Move cattle to back pasture now.”
Ruth heard the radio and the buzz in her pocket at once. She chose the door, sprinting farm to farm, a hymn with lungs.
Scene 3: The Crossing (Valley)
Two buggies, one pickup, and three bad decisions met at the crossing. Water pushed across the asphalt like urgent handwriting. In a truck cab, the AI’s map glowed red like a small hearth.
Boot looked at his boot in water. “Hmm,” he said—repentance, in Boot.
Sheriff blocked the route. “Turn around. Flood don’t recognize your last name.”
Jonas nodded at the red map. “It was right.”
Ruth arrived with families strung behind like a kite tail. “Back pasture now. And take the birds—chickens are God’s dumbest idea and we will not lose them for pride.”
Eli arrived, coat turned to flag by wind. He saw water, map, phone-shaped bulge, and the neighbors who had followed a girl with trumpet lungs. “Tools are judged by the lives they save and the lives they cost,” he said. “Tonight the ledger is kind.”
Act V – The Morning After
Act V – The Morning After
Birds held a staff meeting; the valley unwrinkled like a letter you shouldn’t have crumpled.
At church, Pastor set the AI sermon on the pulpit. “Last night we argued with the future and woke in the present.” He read the line about wind and weather, then confessed: “A machine wrote that. I don’t know what to do with that except hand it back to God with the rest of my confusions.”
Mabel stood. “If the Lord wants to speak through a box with a fan in it, I will not stop Him. But I reserve the right to proofread.” Laughter, grateful and human.
Across the Ridge (Barn)
Eli opened a meeting under a sky scrubbed clean. He held up a flip phone like a wrench. “Emergency phones in barns—we voted yes. We learned why and how. It stays in a box by the lantern. Ringer off. Mercy on.”
The bishop: “Speed is not the devil. Haste is.” Heads nodded like cornstalks finding the breeze.
Act VI – Small Repairs
Act VI – Small Repairs
Boot replaced ramp slats at the fellowship hall and mounted a weather radio without bragging about either.
Clovis drafted a Storm Protocol mentioning drones only once (spiritual growth).
Sheriff delivered cones and a box of doughnuts labeled “for flood training.” Sugar is morale.
Mabel wrote a Volunteer Tech Use Policy: simple, tested, precise; no zest unless she says so.
Pastor started a Sermon Journal: one side “my draft,” the other “things the machine said that made me nervous.”
Eli and Jonas wired a hand-crank charger in the emergency box.
Ruth and Miriam stitched oilcloth sleeves for maps; labeled “places we always forget are low.”
The bishop left a note: “The Lord walks. We may ride. Let us not gallop past each other.”
Act VII – The Dual Dedication
Act VII – The Dual Dedication
Scene 1: Fellowship Hall (Town)
Pastor laid a hand on the humming “Community Commons PC” like a farmer patting a mule that might kick. “May this be a tool, not a tyrant. For service, not shortcuts. And may it never make coleslaw without consulting Mabel.”
“Amen,” said Mabel, already holding version control for bulletins.
Boot asked again for planting dates; the machine suggested patience. “It’s learning,” Boot conceded.
“Ask it about people,” Pastor told Clovis. “Might help.”
Scene 2: The Barn (Plain Life)
Eli opened a wooden box: a bell, a Bible, a flip phone—three tools with different gravities. “We dedicate this to be rung when folks need each other faster than feet allow,” he said. “We dedicate ourselves not to love the bell more than the breath it summons.”
Jonas’s hand found Ruth’s; the future exhaled.
Epilogue – What the Valley Knew
Epilogue – What the Valley Knew
Sequatchie Crossing learned the old truth in new wording: the pace of grace beats the speed of progress. A machine can predict a flood’s hour but not a neighbor’s stubbornness. A phone can carry a warning but not a child across a puddle. People still do that part.
Mabel kept proofreading God’s donkeys—organic and silicon. Clovis amended his ordinance: “Whereas vigilance without charity is just a siren.” Boot planted on the machine’s advice and watered on his own. Sheriff found he could trust maps that argued nicely. Pastor preached his sermons, quoting the machine as if it were a cousin you love but won’t lend money to.
Eli built a shelf that held a lantern, a map, a bell, and a phone. Dusk found him there sometimes, steward at a little altar to common sense. He would think: stewardship has always been choosing the right tool for love.
Disclaimer – The Fine Print Of Grace
Disclaimer
This Dispatch is a work of satire and fiction set in and around Sequatchie County. Characters, dialogues, and situations are invented for storytelling. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental and unintentional. Technology is depicted humorously; always follow local laws, community guidelines, and common sense.
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.