Thanks to the black box the interactions of the Pope and Monsignor Pietro were made public and so I could include it in my essay of this historic time.
“Monsignor Pieto, you have been a busy priest,” the Pope said holding two glasses of wine, “I think you may need this.”
“Your Holiness is truly inspired by God’s wisdom,” the Monsignor said as he slumped down in one of the jet’s plush chairs.
“I will be your steward for the flight. I do not trust any ears close by with so much dark news. This man who would destroy our Mother Church is still on the loose?”
“Yes, his people were very thorough in planning his get-away. Truly daring, but then it was planned by him, no doubt.”
“How is that possible. The Jews had him locked up in their submarine.”
“Your Holiness, this may be hard to believe, but there is more than one Sir Terrance. He has managed to clone himself somehow. We think there are four of him. During the attack on his mega-yacht a fifth one was killed. I saw it with my own eyes and the Israelis confirmed it by testing the DNA.”
“Where is the real Lutts?”
“I don’t think that is possible to know. I talked to the one they captured. He would not tell the Israelis anything, so they let us try and question him. That Sir Terrance said they all worked together as a collective. He bragged about how they look at each other as equals. This clone cooperative allows him to solve problems that a single genius might take years to accomplish.”
“He is like a Hydra. What can the world do to stop this Lernaean?”
“I do not know. He and his clones could be anywhere. These biological things he is preparing to destroy religion could be anywhere.”
“When do you think all these Sir Terrancees will attack the world?”
“It will be soon, Holy Father. My guess is that he was about to launch his nano-vectors very soon. I think he was using his ship as his command center. He had captured us after killing the first Israeli special operations team in Norway. We were seconds away from being killed by this fast moving foam that hardens seconds after it has engulfed you. Both men and robots are incapacitated by this foam. He had this secret room and in the last moments before the foam would have killed us he lowered a wall and we ran in there. He claimed that he wanted us to be his witness and biographers during this great event.”
“Did he strike you as insane?”
“No Holy Father. He is very sane. His clones are just as determined as the original in killing religion. He feels that after he has killed religion the entire world will thank him for pushing humankind forward to evolutionary perfection. He thinks it will end most wars because most are motivated by religious zealotry.”
“How else does he think the world will change, Monsignor?”
“I think the answer to that is to look at what happened in Old Jerusalem. Jews, Moslems, and Christians all celebrated their common humanity. All of a sudden they ignored the social and religious rules that kept them segregated for centuries. You must admit, Holy Father, it was miraculous.”
“Yet this was not the work of God, but of a man. This Sir Terrance, do you think he is looking for enrichment by this?”
“Not at all your Holiness. He could have charged ten times more for the medical cures he has given the world. I do not think he is motivated by money.”
“How odd, even Jesus had strong feelings about money. Sometimes I wonder if God really understands that money can often be more powerful than his wrath.”
“Holy Father, you are playing with me. I know you don’t believe in either God or the Bible, but many do.”
“You included,” the Pope said with a smirky smile.
“As long as you play your part God still works through you.”
The Pope slowly shook his head and seemed to be far away at that point. The Monsignor put his chair back and decided to close his eyes and catch up on some sleep. The Pope put on a headset and watched the 3D porn film from China. After it was over he saw that they would be landing in Rome in about fifteen minutes. He put the headphones down and went and filled two glasses of wine. Then he went over to the Monsignor and nudged him until he opened his eyes.
“We are almost at Rome and I thought you would like to have a glass of your savior’s favorite drink,” the Pope said with a smile.
The Monsignor took the glass and took a sip.
“Your Holiness, what do you want me to do when I get back to Vatican City,” the Monsignor asked.
“Actually, my dear priest, you have done enough. I have been very amazed at your ability to try and stop Sir Terrance. History will show you acted nobly.”
The Pope made a toasting gesture with his wine and took another sip and so the Monsignor took a healthy sip, himself.
“I will soon see that you are rewarded,” the Pope said and made another toasting gesture to the Monsignor who then felt obliged to take another sip.
The Monsignor looked confused suddenly and put his glass down. The Pope put his glass down as well and got up.
“You look pale, Monsignor.”
“I don’t feel well. Maybe my body is finally reacting to all the stress.”
“That could be my son, but I doubt it.”
“What?” the Monsignor said with a confused look.
“I think it is the wine. Or I should be more precise and say it is the drug I put in your wine. You should be mercifully asleep in a moment according to Sir Terrance.”
The Monsignor tried to stand up but immediately fell back in his chair. His mind just could not control his body. He could feel his consciousness starting to slip away,
“Yes, you showed the Church put up a good fight, but my friend I have decided to stop the fight. Sir Terrance may not be interested in money, but I am and when the Church becomes pointless I will still be the boss of what amounts to the largest collection of art and real estate in the world.”
Most likely the Monsignor never heard the Popes gloating. The Pope went up to the phone and pushed the button to the robotic pilot and said, ”Execute Chaos.” He then went over to the escape pod and opened the door. After sitting down he secured the seatbelt and then opened the plastic door covering the red button. He pushed it and a voice announced, “Emergency separation in three seconds.” After three seconds there was an alarm and the sound of exploding bolts. The Pope was now in the hands of science as the pod jettisoned and then deployed a parachute. While drifting down he ordered a car to come to the GPS signal from his phone.
The plane crashed just five miles from the airport. It dove straight into the ground at 900 miles an hour. The robotic pilot was programmed to fly straight down with the engines at maximum power. There would be no trace of the Monsignor’s body. The Papacy would release that the plane was returning Monsignor Angelo Pietro to Rome when due to mechanical failure the plane crashed. An investigation would be done by the Vatican authorities as to the cause and why the Monsignor changed his mind on evacuating and instead got out of the escape pod right after he pushed the red button. The Pope slept easily that night with an African nun naked by his side. With his own private country he thought he could never be brought to justice. He would have the black box impounded by the Swiss Guard and stated the Vatican would do their own investigation.
As a robot I never worry about my ultimate destruction. There is no pain in non-existence, but I do hope the Monsignor was truly asleep when the plane crashed. I can imagine the emotional stress a human must feel in such a situation. It was only weeks after the main events were over that Vatican bureaucrats found out that over 200 artworks had been sold by the Pope to various rich Chinese that questions started to be asked. Eventually, his Holiness had to flee the Holy Sea and find refuge in a small Islamic country that enjoyed billions of dollars from the Pope’s wallet.
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