Once we got to Old
Jerusalem, I thought my master looked dumbfounded. He seemed out of place. Everywhere we went people were smiling
and happy. Even the Taxi drivers
were smiling and courteous. Even my
AI knew that was something new. Old
Jerusalem was normally a very rude city.
Everywhere you walked there would be Israeli soldiers with automatic
weapons. The Jews hated and barely
tolerated the Muslims and treated the Palestinians like dirt. In the Muslim section the small
storeowners tried to cheat the tourists no matter what God they worshipped. The Christians acted smug because they
knew they were the chosen. For all
the tens of millions of dollars that were spent the Old City looked rude and
poor. In the past Frank said it
reminded him of Tijuana in Mexico as he had stated in more earthy terms.
All those mean memories of
the Holiest City on Earth seemed to melt away with the endless smiles and
greetings people offered freely as you passed them on the narrow streets. All the holy places of the faith were
still open. No one was charging any
entrance fees and the security areas were unmanned. Jews were visiting the Dome for the
first time admiring the space and the party mood. The same free flow of Muslims into the
Holy Churches and the Western Wall was evident. Even a few forward boys and girls
allowed mutual attraction to bring them together to flirt and even hold hands,
an action that would have brought out knives or guns by their peers and elders
just a few days ago. It was all so
unnatural to Frank’s eyes and yet so natural in so many places around the
world. And no where did anyone
bring up the subject of God’s law.
Frank talked to a wide range
of ages and backgrounds and it was always the same. They all felt happy to be alive and
enjoying their new sense of freedom.
By the second day some who were not there when this miracle happened
started to come and look for themselves.
It was easy to spot them.
They did not look you in the eye.
They whispered to each other and shook their heads in disbelieve at the
interchange of those who had been relieved of religious feelings. That afternoon at the hotel Frank asked
me to email the Monsignor and ask him if he was coming down to see
this.
It took about forty-five
minutes for a response from the Monsignor.
He told Frank he
was already in Jerusalem and invited Frank over toStudium
Biblicum Franciscanum for dinner at 7:00.
Frank decided not to bring his six foot tall robot, but instead wore his
JAIC ButtonPort. Sometimes he did
that because people did not think they were being recorded and would spill their
beans and then tell Frank they would deny everything if he printed anything they
said. I ordered him a taxi and he
arrived at the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Like many building in Old Jerusalem it
looked older than it really was.
The Studium Biblicum Franciscanum had been founded in 1929 and that is
when the building was built. Frank
was welcomed by a nun and then escorted to what looked like a reading room where
the Monsignor was sitting reading at a computer. He heard the door open and looked up and
greeted Frank.
“It
is good to see you again, Mr. Huntington.
Thank you, Sister. Let’s
walk to the dining room.”
“Frank
had scoped the room and was impressed with the beautiful furniture. It was very old and very elegant. The walls had those classic built-in
book cases with glass doors. Many
of the books looked like they were from the Twentieth Century. The windows were heavily draped, but he
could still see the heavy bars on the outside. Most buildings had bars in Old
Jerusalem. Not since the Romans
ruled was there any degree of stability and open safety. Only after he had glanced at the room’s
accoutrements did he bother to look at the Monsignor’s face. The Monsignor’s left eye revealed a
‘shiner’. On his chin there was a
small scab.
“Wow,
Monsignor, what happened to you?”
Pietro
lifted his hand up to his jaw and Frank saw his hand was bandaged.
“I
was attacked.”
“Here
– in Jerusalem – by whom?” asked
Frank.
“No,
actually, I was still in Roma. This
way.” He lead them to the next room
where there were no more than seven large tables. The Monsignor spoke to a young monk in
Italian to serve the meal.
“Have
a seat, Mr. Huntington. I really
don’t know who they were. There
were two of them and they came up to me while I was walking back to the Vatican
from a restaurant I sometimes go to that is only seven blocks away. I thought they were just street punks
trying to get my wallet. Sadly,
wearing religious grab doesn’t protect you in Roma anymore. After grabbing me and striking me in the
stomach and rearranging my face one of them told me to stop looking snooping
like Frank Huntington.”
“Snooping
like me?” I had three goons tell me
to stop seeing the Princess.”
“At
least they left your face alone,” the Monsignor said looking at
Frank.
“Actually,
I had a fat lip, but an ice pack took care of most of it. Were your goons
English?”
“No,
they spoke perfect Italian.”
“Must
be different goons, but I bet their pay checks looked the
same.”
The
Monsignor looked confused and asked Frank, “Their message seems
dissimilar.”
“Yes,
it does.” Frank took a sip of the
wine that had just been poured and then said, “In a way we are both working on
this religious mystery.”
“Yes,
we are. Why didn’t they just say
lay off investigating. Why so
indirect?”
“Maybe
they weren’t told the real reason.
This is not the type of thing that whoever is causing this spread of
atheism to be public knowledge. The
Pope was right in saying these events are just beta
testing.”
“Hard
to call unconverting Old Jerusalem a beta test. Last time I heard Old Jerusalem had
about 50,000 people living there.
How can you do that to 50,000 people without anyone noticing it?” the
Monsignor said while shaking his head in disbelief.
“Have
you had a chance to talk to any of these hippie zombies?” asked
Frank.
“Only
some of our staff who were assigned here.
We are in the process of replacing them all.”
“I
heard all the religions are having to re-staff.”
“Yes,
this has alarmed everyone. And now what you and I have been aware of is now
front page news. What are your
thoughts, Mr. Huntington?”
“Whoever
is doing this has changed their approach.
Not one suicide or any violence.”
“I
noticed that too. I thank God for
that, but world-wide conversion from religion would still be a
disaster.”
“Maybe
for supporting your boss, but I don’t see that anymore. All of Old Jerusalem is happy. The animosity of the religions has
disappeared. No more hate crimes,
bombings or fighting.”
“On
the surface that looks all good and peachy. Peace on Earth, finally, you think. But I wonder how long this glow of love
will continue? And the truth is
someone has changed all these people’s way of thinking without their
permission. This could be a
slippery slope to slavery. Slaves
that would all be happy. Slaves
that would not spend a second thinking about alternative ideas. Is this the kind of world you want, Mr.
Huntington?”
“I
see what you mean,” Frank said as he put down a piece of bread he was going to
butter. Suddenly, Frank had a look
on his face that showed alarm. “Whoever has developed this capability to make
people nonreligious without emotional consequences can remold any ideals or
behaviors we have. They could just
as well turn everyone gay and the world population would crash. They could make an army into crazed
killers that would not question what they were doing. It would mean absolute power and we
wouldn’t even be aware we had changed.”
“Not
exactly the atheist paradise you thought it could be.”
“Does
his Holiness realize this?”
“Yes,
even before Old Jerusalem. He may
be a lecher, but he is not stupid.”
“It
is one thing to take out a nunnery or a small city, but do you think they could
do the whole fucking world?”
“This
is the Twenty-first Century, Mr. Huntington, why not?”
“God,
you’re right. I mean in the United
States some punk employee fucks up and before you know it 20,000,000 pounds of
hamburger has to be recalled because of the possibility of some metal fragments
or bacterial contamination.
Everything is large scale these days. But how is this attack being
done?”
“I
still don’t know. We have looked at
the security tapes from the Christian Quarter for the last twenty-four hours and
see nothing suspicious. It can’t be
the water supply because most of modern Jerusalem is on the same water
distribution system. There was a
little spillover beyond the walls of Old Jerusalem, but by and large this latest
attack was confined to the four quarters.”
“You
realize,” Frank said not touching any of his food, “time is running out. I mean, if they were concerned about the
violence problem they have solved that.
Now it is just a matter of manufacturing enough of this magic to take out
religion all over the world. I wonder if they already have more ideas for
changing human nature?”
“I
just had a thought, if this technology was in the wrong hands they could program
those whom they hated to kill themselves.
Thankfully, it seems they are not intent on killing people, only of
robbing them of their religion. But
I could see some Middle Eastern Country trying to kill everyone in Israel or
America. It is the perfect stealth
weapon – no smoke, no radiation, no property damage.”
“Thanks
Monsignor, you know how to kill someone’s appetite. I need to get back to
London.”
“What
do you think you can do there?”
“What
I was going to do the last time I was there – talk to Sir Terrance. He might be the only one who can give us
an idea how this is being done.”
Monsignor
Angelo Pietro picked up his wine glass and said “I know you don’t believe, but
Godspeed, Frank Huntington.” He
took a small sip and put it down gently, “I shall continue my investigation as
well.”
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