The Jesus Christ Cypher

by Sebastian Kentor

  A mini-tornado was swirling through the Piazza San Pietro dangerously close to the ancient pink granite Egyptian obelisk located at the center of the square, which seemed to be moving.

  His red robes were all wet and his vision blurred.

  I will be crushed by the falling obelisk, which was initially erected at Heliopolis 4500 years ago by a long-forgotten Pharaoh.

  Such irony. I need to save the child; it is my destiny.

  The child was dressed in white with dark hair, and he could hear her whimpering for help, clutching the stone surface of the obelisk to protect herself against the forces of nature.

  Could it be an angel?

  Am I being tested?

  Since he was a child, he was fascinated with the story of the Vatican Obelisk.

  He remembered from his high-school history lessons that it was the only obelisk in Rome that had not collapsed since ancient Roman times.

  He was particularly intrigued by the myth that in the past, it even possessed on its top, a golden ball that supposedly contained the ashes of Julius Caesar.

  The piazza’s pavement was submerged underwater, with the deluge covering its radiating lines in travertine, the smooth surface of its cobblestones giving it a faint glitter.

  He approached the Capricorn signs of the zodiac, which made the obelisk a gigantic sundial's gnomon, aligned to the summer solstice, which would accurately show the time under a perfect blue Roman sky, with the pearly dome of the Saint Peter’s Church in the back. The scion of all churches stretching out the long arms of its colonnade to embrace God’s Catholic flock.

  He was also fascinated by the twelve Zodiac signs. The shadow of the obelisk’s tip hit each stone sign on the day that the sun moved above it.

  Today he knew it was a special day. Nobody was aware that in his youth, he passionately studied astrology.

  Today the sun will fringe Chiron, the wounded healer, and precisely sextile Pluto in Capricorn, the planet of demise and alteration in the sign of the creation.

  Is this a sign, oh God, what is your plan for me?

  Why did you bring me here under my zodiac sign?

  As he approached the child, he felt a sudden and overwhelming warmth. A light sunburst blinded him again.

  The light transformed into darkness, and he collapsed on the wet pavement; while in the back, the Vatican staff were running to reach him.

  Everyone thought he was dead. Who could survive at such an age, after being struck by lightning?

  The next day the entire press was raging:

  “A miracle. The first Cardinal struck by lightning to survive.”

  “A miraculous vision; the Cardinal is alive.”

  While the Cardinals thought he was dead, he simply fainted, inexplicably having quickly recovered the next day.

  The cardinals and the entire Vatican took this sign as a divine omen; he was genuinely protected by God.

  The Conclave and his opponents had no other choice than to elect him as Pope.

  This made him determined to keep his first name, Pietro di Monti born in Rome, or Peter II.

  The entire event was surrounded by a shroud of mystery, was this a vision, a prophecy, or an omen of the things to come?

  After being elected as Pope, he opened an inquiry regarding the little girl. Everyone was baffled.

  “Your Holiness, nobody had any recollection of finding a lost little girl.”

  The Pope thought: A vision from the Holy Spirit?

  The prophecy’s words were churning in his mind:

  “he would feed his sheep in many tribulations and in the days of the final persecution…”

  Malachy should have never been proclaimed a Saint, and his prophecy should have been declared a blasphemy, a forgery at best, the Pope thought.

  His vision was to stop creating fake saints and focus on helping humanity. He wanted to give meaning and purpose to religion, to calm the soul and meditate toward positive energy.

  A long time ago, Time magazine asked on its front cover, “Is God Dead?” A shy young boy was contemplating this shocking title by the press shop window.

  “Mama, why is God dead? Can he be killed?”

  His mother gave him a worried but equally sweet look.

  “No, my son. God cannot be killed as long as people have Him in their hearts.”

  She was a religious person who was an orphan and grew up being taken care of by an orphanage run by nuns near the outskirts of Rome.

  The Pope remembered the magazine and wondered whether religion was relevant to modern life in the post-atomic age and when science was explaining more about our natural world than ever before.

  Scientific advancement is not just making people question God; it is also connecting those who doubt.

  It is easy to find atheist and agnostic discussion groups online, even if you come from a religious family or community.

  Each day I am trying to find a way to tackle the past ten years worrying statistics.

  One-third of the world’s spiritual population is Christian; however, Christians in Europe were dying faster than new ones being born.

  Each year there was a staggering number of Christians losing their faith in God. In the church he was overseeing, those losing their faith were becoming Atheists.

  Oh, Father, show me the light, to bring humanity back to their one true God.

  I’ll use the new tool you have bestowed on us: technology and access to information.

  I’ll purge the unfaithful and usher a new era for our Church.

  As I have done my entire life and until the dawn of time. Amen.

  And with this thought, he closed his eyes and fall asleep.

  ◆◆◆

  §CHAPTER 3§

  22H10, October 1st

  Belgium, Brussels, Berlaymont building

  BRUSSELS’ GLOOMY skies were illuminated by rapid lightning. A heavy rain washed over the empty streets of the European Union’s administrative capital.

  Ranking as one of the most depressing places to live in Europe, it wasn’t widely embraced even by the sudden warmth brought by climate change.

  Helene de Moncler, a tall woman in her late sixties, was at her desk, which gave a stunning view over the European Union’s institutional center.

  It was not easy being the first female President of the powerful European Commission, which managed to make even the most dominant corporation in big data bow before its legislative power.

  But today she canceled her agenda as the fate of the Order was lying in her hands. At the top of the well-guarded 13th floor of the iconic Berlaymont building, she was sitting in front of an immaculate desk that had an interactive Microsoft Surface Studio.

  She was frantically shaking while activating her biometric credentials.

  “Security identification: alpha, beta 238978 lambda, voice recognition pattern: I am Helene de Moncler, the guardian of light, the last sister of the Berlaymont. The warm female voice from her A.I. virtual assistant answered: “security identifications verified.”

  “Add the profile stored for Lydia del Biondo and use her biomarkers for the security database to access my office.”

  “Send the encrypted message to XGlass code number AT23XV912,” Helene ordered with sadness trickling through her voice.

  “Profile stored and biomarkers added for Lydia del Biondo, the message was sent Madame President,” her A.I. confirmed.

  “I have to defend the vault of my Berlaymont Sisters, the legacy of my Order. I’m its last guardian, the only one who can make a difference.”

  Her security perimeter was almost impenetrable. Each person present was identified by his weight, pulse, and iris through the security system, which used a multitude of invisible micro cameras.

  Her Zaha Hadid jewelry also influenced the minimalistic design of her office adorned with different screens, which were projecting a synthesis of news across the world.

  The financial markets were crashing in Asia because of a pandemic flu outbreak on whic
h the standard antiviral treatments were not effective.

  It originally started in the city of Wuhan, in China which boasted more than 11 million people; an important transport hub that was now basically an isolated city. Railway stations were closed, flights were suspended, and the road routes of entry and exit to the city were now heavily secured checkpoints. The neighboring city of Huanggang, which had a population of about 7 million people, announced similar measures.

  “Incredible,” she shouted. “We are planning to send the first humans to Mars, and we still did not agree to tackle the effects of climate change at a planetary level.”

  Now the superpowers around the world were suffering due to erratic outbreaks, which were decimating their populations.

  “Increase volume to 50%,” Helene instructed. CNN was presenting the breaking news.

  China had extended travel restrictions to eleven cities, affecting more than 36 million people, as it raced to contain a SARS-like virus that has overwhelmed local hospitals and sparked global alarm.

  The novel coronavirus denoted 2019-nCoV by the World Health Organization saw mass victims in Bangkok, Tokyo, Seoul, Beijing, Shanghai, Guangdong, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macau, Everett, Vietnam, and Singapore.

  After the first reported cases in the United States, together with the European Union, they were joining forces to increase airport scans to detect the travelers, who were coming from one of the affected areas, exhibiting fever and other symptoms specific to this aggressive virus.

  Helene felt a chill running down her spine, thinking about the casualties of the 1918 influenza virus.

  I need to accelerate my plan; otherwise, it will be too late.

  “Call Neo Moore on a secure channel,” she commanded.

  In a matter of seconds, the calm voice of her virtual assistant announced, “patching through on the EU top-secret channel.”

  “Neo, I need your help. You remember that we discussed the Omega protocol. Now it’s time to activate it.”

  “I count on you, my child. Please do not disappoint me. The faith of all humanity rests in your hands.”

  “I understand perfectly Madame President. One is always glad to be of service.”

  “I granted you all the necessary access rights.”

  “Good luck Neo Moore; I hope we’ll meet one day again.”

  Neo knew what he had to do; he never believed this day would come so soon.

  His eyes were fixated on the dark screen, which replaced Helene’s kind face when the call ended.

  On top, I am just a cripple with nothing to lose.

  I do not want to end up like Stephen Hawking, completely paralyzed with an artificial voice, Neo’s dark thoughts were slowly creeping back.

  Despite all the breakthroughs in gene therapy the past few years, the mortality rate of people touched by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) was still extremely high.

  I have a mission to accomplish, and I need to hurry up, because tomorrow I might not be able to use my hands anymore.

  Neo believed in her and thought that destiny brought him to this phase in his life for a reason

  Helene instructed him that as soon as possible, he should contact the best scientists in the world who study life-long debilitating diseases. Hopefully, they would be able to find a cure using gene therapy.

  If someone could deactivate or block my defective ALS genes and replace them with healthy versions, I might stand a chance.

  Will she help me, that is the real question. Will she take a break from her research work as a molecular biologist?

  Neo knew she was absorbed into discovering the secrets of the presence of mysterious sequences: Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats (CRISPR) and using the scientific work of previous researchers redesigning the enzyme called Cas9 to extend the lifespan of humans.

  She was continuing the work of the researchers who discovered that CRISPR segments could be manipulated to navigate Cas9 to locations on the genome, where it would then cut like scissors.

  Together, CRISPR and Cas9 could slice out genes or change their function to render their negative impact obsolete, tackling rare diseases which until then were untreatable while discovering new methods to alter a genome to avoid any future complications.

  ◆◆◆

  §CHAPTER 4§

  23h12, October 1st

  Brussels

  LYDIA WAS COVERED in sweat; haunted by the same terrible nightmare that plagued her since childhood.

  “Mummy, daddy, where are you?”

  “I am so cold, please don’t leave me here.”

  “Take me in your arms; cover me with your warm kisses.”

  She was abandoned again in absolute darkness with her little feet trembling uncontrollably on the white marble. A vulnerable three-year-old Lydia became almost paralyzed by the freezing surface.

  In their desperation, the kindergarten employees forgot her during the evacuation of the building.

  An emergency power cut triggered by a terrorist attack at one of Brussels’ nuclear power plants left most of the city with no electricity. The backup generators were never tested to comply with such an apocalyptic scenario.

  Lydia was still trembling in her sleep and was jolted back to reality by the loud rain tapping against her glass ceiling.

  She always found solace in the sound of raindrops or by watching the starry sky with the clouds being carried away by invisible winds.

  It reminded her of the stormy days from the relaxing exotic trips her parents organized a few times each year.

  This was an opportunity for them to explore another archeological museum and unravel the secrets of lost civilizations, with her mom and dad organizing quizzing contests.

  Another damn nightmare, but you are still gone…you simply vanished from my life.

  Mom, dad, wherever you might be, I love you…I want to embrace you so much…even if it would be for one last time.

  She was beginning to acknowledge the hypothesis that dreams are like the pages of a book where one’s lifeforce is writing about its destiny.

  All of the sad memories were melting away as raindrops intertwined with her thoughts about the future.

  While the figures of her parents were slowly dissolving into the dark sky, her A.I. assistant, Alexa, announced an urgent call.

  “Lydia, you have priority call from Helene de Moncler. Can I connect you to her?”

  It is almost past 01h00 AM. Why would the President of the European Commission be calling me at this hour?

  It must be something very urgent.

  I never recall her ever calling my parents at such an hour…

  “Yes, connect me and activate the encryption protocol.”

  Helene always had a determined voice, speaking with an eerie calm, but tonight she seemed terrified.

  “Lydia, I am deeply sorry for everything.”

  “There are so many things I would like to tell you, but there is no time.”

  “We are in grave danger.”

  ◆◆◆

  §CHAPTER 5§

  23h20

  Brussels, “The One” building

  THE ASSASSIN was on his way to the rooftop of Brussels’ tallest skyscraper.

  He strategically chose this roof for its proximity to Berlaymont: the emblematic building that represented the administrative heart of the European Union.

  “My Master will be proud of me,” he whispered with absolute certainty.

  “I’ll finally become worthy of the Phoenix’s blessing; he will welcome me among his kin.”

  He could not spot anyone in the streets emptied by the heavy rain.

  The building resembled a giant domino castle with its windows in black and white, some fluttering uncontrollably in the fierce winds.

  “These Europeans have such strange taste in design.”

  On top, they called it the ONE, the Assassin thought and could not stop his lips from curling into a grin.

  Modern art adorned the lobby’s walls made
of dark granite and teak, making for a perfect synergy of cold and warm, which, together with the scent of fresh roses and freesia, were invading his senses.

  The skyscraper had a mix of offices and apartments, which gave a stunning view across Brussels. A variety of advanced video cameras were scrutinizing all angles.

  The Assassin already knew this, and his cloak discreetly hid his face.

  With a simple hacking app, he managed to open the unguarded main entrance, simulating the magnetic card of an apartment owner and then unlocked the elevator to the building’s rooftop.

  Inside the elevator, he activated the restricted access to the rooftop. The elevator acknowledged his command with a warm voice specially designed to complement the modern design.

  “Welcome, Mister Sutherland, doors are closing …lift going up. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

  At the same time, the clever security algorithms were trying to process his facial features to match his identity to open the door of his penthouse, …but his face was still perfectly hidden.

  It was too late. The moment the security system tried to block the elevator, the doors swung open. The Assassin exited in the nick of time.

  The building’s alarm was activated, producing an infernal noise, and he knew he had precisely ten minutes until the security forces invaded the rooftop.

  His target was in range, and he had to flawlessly navigate the stormy weather to be able to arrive on the other side safely.

  I have to gain enough speed; otherwise, I’ll not succeed.

  He already calculated the distance between the two buildings, and from the 22nd floor, he was absolutely sure that he would safely make it to the other side.

  Within seconds, he started to sprint and leaped into the void.

  For a moment, he floated in the air, supported by the weight of the heavy drops.

  He was flying at high speed, experiencing a fantastic sensation being propelled by his paragliding suit, which activated when the proper velocity was reached.

  In time he learned to master and perfect his flying technique using it when he had to eliminate well-secured targets from above.