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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