Frank´s hand loosens his grip. He drops the post and his head slumps. Then, something happens that I could have never imagined.
He drops to his knees.
His huge robot head drops all the way to his chest, and he begins to speak to himself in Pennsylvania Deutsch. It sounds German to me, but I know it´s the dialect of Frank´s people.
After the prayer in Amish, he changes to English.
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
He pauses and looks at his robotic arms, studying them. His head raises up; he looks at me, then back at himself.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters."
The robot looks at himself again, touching his enormous legs, then examines the robotic joint that we would call a knee, bent on the ground in prayer.
"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the path of the righteousness for his name´s sake."
Frank touches his face, then his hands slide down to the launchers protruding from below his shoulders.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
He looks at his hands and articulates his wrist, working the fingers over and over.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou antointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
Frank looks at me, and a sadness overwhelms his voice.
Excerpt from Brother, Frankenstein. Copyright Michael Bunker