Vatican Ambassador

by Mike Luoma

  “I’m on this floor,” BC notices. “Room 115.”

  “I’m upstairs,” Kim says. “Third floor.”

  BC and Kim stand in uneasy silence.

  “How’s your daughter, Ruth?” BC asks Kim, breaking the silence.

  “As if you care,” Kim says softly. “She’s dead, Campion,” he tells him. “She was one of the first to get the sickness in Dubuque.”

  BC doesn’t know what to say.

  “I… I’m sorry, Kim.”

  “So am I,” he says. Kim presses the “up” button of a nearby elevator. The door opens and he walks in, away from BC. He turns to push the button for his floor, but stops.

  “Hey, Campion,” he calls to BC. “I voted for you. By the way.”

  “Thank you?” BC says, questioning.

  “Don’t thank me,” Kim says. He pushes the button for his floor and the door begins to close. “I voted for you because the job appears to be fatal. Good luck!”

  The elevator door closes. BC is left alone in the small lobby. He finds his way to his rooms, finds dinner waiting, a salad, Francesco Alfredo and green beans, with white wine. Too bad… not enough to get drunk on… I could use a drink.

  BC pours himself a large glass of wine and settles down to dinner and to sleep. He and the other Cardinals start again early the next morning, meeting in the chapel at six am. There are rounds of discussion before each vote is taken. Words of support are spoken for each of the prominent candidates. Candidates can bow out and throw their support behind other Cardinals. Cardinal Hardwick throws his support behind Castellini, but it isn’t quite enough. BC tries to throw his

  ‘support’ to Hardwick, but Hardwick declines. Cardinal Kibwe then surprises the college by throwing his support behind BC.

  “He is a man of action who knows the world as it is today very well. He is a peacemaker, the first man to bring the opposing sides of the war together in years,” Kibwe says, explaining his move. BC sits in stunned silence.

  I want to get up, wave my arms and shout NOOOOOOO!! But I don’t think that will play well here…

  After the final vote of the afternoon, Cardinal Castellini has the most ballots, but not the two-thirds he needs to get elected.

  BC can’t sleep that second night of the conclave. He tosses and turns, gliding just above the surface of real sleep.

  Well… at least I’m not getting a headache… knock on wood. Heh, plenty of that here. These rooms are beautiful.

  BC drags himself out of bed when the clock strikes five. He tries to wake up with a shower and some coffee. He makes his way back to the chapel for six.

  The now familiar process rolls on ahead. BC wishes he could shrink down into nothing as he hears his name read aloud, over and over again. His and Castellini’s.

  Neither he nor Castellini get two thirds of the vote. Castellini does have a simple majority, however, and the next ballot will be the seventh, and a simple majority will win it for him in that round of balloting as agreed to on day one.

  Thank God!

  The Cardinals mingle amongst themselves as they await the second ballot of the morning. BC tries to keep to himself, nodding politely but not engaging in conversation when approached. Castellini, on the other hand, is surrounded by supporters.

  I’m too tired to even think my way out of this… hope being aloof helps get Castellini votes…

  what’s that? Oh shit, something’s wrong!

  One of the Cardinals in Castellini’s group has collapsed. BC approaches, only to be stopped by another Cardinal.

  “Give him some air!”

  “Stand back, please.”

  BC hangs back. Murmurs surround him.

  “Is it the plague?”

  “He looks sick. He may have it.”

  “I’ve seen this before; it’s the start of it.”

  BC’s worst fears are confirmed as the crowd parts. Cardinal Castellini is on the floor of the chapel, with two other Cardinals attending to him. They help him to his feet, and lead him back to the Domus Sanctae Marthae. Cardinal Hardwick takes to the altar and asks for their attention.

  “Cardinal Castellini has taken ill. We hope it’s just some bad fish, as he said to me just a moment ago,”

  Hardwick says with a nervous chuckle. “Although he has been excused from the voting, he is still the prime candidate and remains so as we approach the next ballot. Please, return to your seats, and we will conduct the next ballot. Thank you. May the Lord guide us, and help us choose wisely. Amen”

  “Amen,” the assembly responds.

  The ballots are passed out once again. BC writes “Castellini” in the biggest allowable letters, folds his ballot, and then slides it into the chalice when his turn comes.

  Terpa begins reading the ballots aloud.

  “Castellini,” she says, echoed once again by the other two assistants. BC breathes a sigh of relief.

  Thank God! There is no way I can…

  “Campion,” she says, reading the next.

  Oh no…

  “Campion,” she says again. And again. Twenty-nine times.

  BC wakes up on his back on the floor of the chapel.

  “What happened?” he asks Terpa, who is hanging over him.

  “You fainted, I think. At least I hope so. We can’t have two Cardinals struck down by the plague in one day, can we? Especially not when you’ve just been elected…”

  “Don’t say it!” BC tries to shout.

  “…Pope,” she finishes despite his protest. She extends her hand and helps him to his feet. “You okay?”

  she asks him.

  “Considering… I guess,” BC says.

  “Bernard Campion! Approach!” Hardwick calls to BC from the altar.

  BC can hear the bells of St. Peter’s ringing out as he walks up to the altar. Must be white smoke, too. Maybe I’m still passed out… this can’t be happening.

  “Do you accept this election?” Hardwick asks him.

  “Do I have a choice?” BC asks.

  “You can refuse,” Hardwick says. “But no one ever does. It could wreck the church.”

  “Really? What do you think making me Pope over the whole NcC is going to accomplish?” BC says in response.

  “Do you accept?” Hardwick presses him.

  Like I can say “no”…

  “I accept,” BC says. “I guess.”

  “By what name shall you be called?” Hardwick asks.

  Name? God, I didn’t give that any thought! What name…

  “Uh…” BC stammers as he tries to think.

  Well, it’s worked SO well so far…

  “I will be called Peter… the fourth,” BC declares.

  “Come forward and be consecrated as a bishop of the church,” Hardwick says. BC approaches him.

  “Kneel,” Hardwick tells him. BC kneels before him and Hardwick lays on his hands, on BC’s head.

  “By the power vested in me by the Lord and by the NcC, I ordain you a Bishop of the New catholic Church. On Earth as it is in heaven, Amen,” Hardwick intones.

  “Amen,” the assembly responds.

  “I give you your new Pontifex Maximus! The Holy Roman Pontiff! The Bishop of Rome, Pope Peter the Fourth!”

  The College of Cardinals begins applauding.

  This is just great. Wonderful. Just ducky… I’m the fuckin’ Pope!

  Chapter Fifteen

  BC sits on the altar in the Sistine Chapel as each Cardinal comes up in turn to pledge his allegiance according to the ancient traditions of the church.

  He’s whisked away out of the chapel after the ceremony and up to the papal apartments where they fit him with his new white robes.

  “You had my size?” he asks, when they bring him his white outfit.

  “We have everybody’s size,” the tailor tells him. “Just in case.”

  “Do they have to be robes?” BC asks.

  “I don’t know,” the tailor says. “They just… are.”

  “I don’t want robes,”
BC tells the man. “Make me more modern vestments. I want white sport coats and trousers, and white clerical shirts. I need one set today, and then another fourteen outfits after that. It’s time the modern church had a modern Pope,” BC proclaims. The tailor leaves, shaking his head. Well, it’s robes for now, I guess.

  Cardinal Terpa passes the tailor on her way in to see BC. He gives her a withering look as she passes.

  “What did you say to him?” she asks.

  “Why?”

  “He looked angry about something. He was scowling.”

  “I asked for an alteration of the wardrobe,” BC tells her. “I want suits, not robes. Time to modernize the look along with the rest of the NcC.”

  “You can’t do that,” she tells him.

  “I can.

  “I just did.

  “I’m the fucking Pope!” BC tells her, joking to lighten the mood.

  “Such language!” Terpa says, embarrassed.

  “You’re blushing,” BC observes. “Sorry. It’s just an expression.”

  “An expression?” she says. “I hope you don’t plan on using it as part of your blessing. I won’t introduce you!”

  “Easy, Terpa, I won’t have my Secretary of State getting all crazy on me.”

  “What was that?” she asks.

  “You heard me,” BC says. “I want you to stay on as the Vatican’s Secretary of State. As a matter of fact, I want the whole Curia to stay on in their current positions. You people know what it takes to keep this place running. I don’t. I need you.”

  “Fine,” Terpa says, regaining her composure and trying not to smile. “As long as you promise not to say the ‘f’ word around me. Or in public!” she adds.

  “It’s a deal,” he tells her, smiling at her mild offense.

  “Are you ready for this?” Terpa asks him.

  “This?” BC asks. “No. Not really,” he admits.

  “Too bad,” she says. She walks over to the balcony door. “Ready or not…”

  She turns, and then swings the doors wide open. She strides out onto the balcony. BC can hear the crowd outside in St. Peter’s Square roar.

  People in a crowd! Everything has seemed so deserted; everyone staying in seclusion, isolated away for fear of catching the sickness… it’s actually good to hear a crowd! Even if I’m the one that has to face them next…

  “Habemus Papam! ” Terpa proclaims in Latin. “We have a Pope! I give you Pope Peter the Fourth!

  Servus Servorum Dei!”

  BC walks out on the balcony. There is a large crowd, nearly filling the square. But nowhere near as large as they used to be.

  BC waves and the crowd goes wild.

  “Hello!” BC says to more applause. “I greet you as your new pope!”

  The crowd gets even louder in their cheers. He waits for the frenzy to die down. They don’t really know me… they wouldn’t be applauding if they did. Heck, I could be anyone up here right now. Just have to say a few words. Make it sound good.

  “We live in a time of great chaos and change,” BC begins. “We live in a time of horrible sickness, what some are calling a plague. We live in a time of war between religions and ideals. There are some who will wonder: has God abandoned us? I tell you he has not! Whenever two or more are gathered in my name, I am there, Jesus told us! He is here now! With us now! The New catholic Church has unified Christianity like never before, the Body of Christ made whole once again! I ask you, with the Lord on our side, how can we fail?!”

  The crowd gives BC their applause and approval.

  “I ask you to join me in calling on the Lord, Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

  “Jesus, look down upon your church, your Body of Christ in the World. Let us each become your brothers, your sisters, sons and daughters of God, united in the Word, united in our faith, and united in our Love. I ask this blessing in your name for those of us here, for all the members of your church wherever they maybe, and for all of those who have not yet experienced your love, may they feel your strength in us. I also ask your blessing upon those who are no longer with us. Please take them into your home and keep them with you always and forever. We ask this through Christ, our Lord!”

  “Amen!’ the crowd says, nearly as one, nearly knocking BC off his feet. Not bad for quick improvisation… Man, you can feel their love!

  “God bless you!” BC says. He backs up slowly off the balcony, and closes the doors behind him, shutting out the crowd.

  “Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Terpa comments as he turns around.

  “It is,” BC admits. “They love me.”

  “They love what you represent,” she tells him. “Don’t let it go to your head. Servus Servorum Dei, remember?”

  “Yeah,” BC says, “I heard you say that. What does it mean?”

  “Servant of the servants of God,” she translates. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “What?” BC asks. “Where are we going now? I thought I was done?”

  She laughs. “Not yet. We have another ceremony to attend. Come on,” she says, opening the door for him.

  “Tell me this, Cardinal Terpa: Why is it that with all the reforms in the New catholic Church with our small ‘c’, I still have to go through all this old Roman Catholic mumbo-jumbo?”

  “Be careful who you’re around when you’re calling it ‘mumbo-jumbo’,” she cautions him.

  “Like you?’

  “No. But some of the old Roman Catholic Cardinals are still around here.”

  “Sure. But why all this?”

  “Why all this?” she asks rhetorically, her arm sweeping around to indicate his robes, the balcony, the Vatican. “Because the Roman Catholics demanded that it all be kept like this, part of their conditions for joining up with the NcC… And another reason not to make fun. Can we go now? Ready for more

  ‘mumbo-jumbo’?”

  “Great, just great,” BC mumbles as he swishes by her in his robes.

  “Stop mumbling,” she chastises him, “you’re the you-know-what pope!”

  “So, you do have a sense of humor,” BC observes. She frowns at him.

  “Come on,” she says.

  BC is formally inaugurated in the ceremony.

  Cardinal Hardwick places a woolen pallium on his shoulders and arranges it in proper position like a thin, flat sash. The white sash has black silk ends. Five red crosses adorn the sash, three of which are pierced with pins. BC asks Hardwick under his breath why they left the pins in, after pricking his arm with one and nearly letting out a yelp.

  “They represent Jesus’ five wounds and the three nails from the cross,” Hardwick explains, as the choir chants, “Tu es Petras!”

  Tu es Petras… That one even I can figure out, “I am Peter” … wearing a sash with pins and crosses in it. What a happy bunch… let’s celebrate wounds! Jeesh can’t say that out loud…

  BC finds it all starting to run together as he begins to run out of energy. I never did get a good night’s sleep, did I?

  The Vatican is buzzing with the news of the new pope. His news that the Curia will remain the same has also been greeted with joy. BC makes his way to the suite they’ve prepared for him in the Domus Sanctae Marthae, greeting well wishers as he goes.

  I need to sleep!

  BC doesn’t get much sleep after he officially becomes Pope Peter the Fourth in April of 2111. Keeping the Curia intact works both for and against BC; they keep the Vatican running like a well-oiled machine, for the most part, but some old loyalists left over from the reign of Pope Linus seem to be going out of their way to make BC’s life more difficult.

  BC begins to call them the “mumbo-jumbo” boys behind their back. It’s a small attempt at humor amid the chaos and decimation. He can’t blame them too much for their resistance to his more “modern” ways. Even BC is unsettled by the lightning-fast turn of events that have him suddenly leading the New catholic Church. He’d never be Pope save for the plague.

  The only bright spot has been seeing his old friend M’B
ekke again. It turned out M’Bekke was as hard to kill as BC.

  M’Bekke resurfaced right after the news broke of BC’s “elevation” to pope. But M’Bekke soon left for the Moon, named by BC to replace himself as Vatican Ambassador to Lunar Prime. One of BC’s first appointments.

  Two weeks into the job, people are still dying. He’s tried to reach Nita Bendix, or Anita Capituna, or whatever her name is, to no avail.

  She never did get back in touch! Course, I was here instead of Lunar Prime. But, still… I haven’t been hiding!

  How do you get in touch with a super secret “Project”, anyway?

  I can’t even get in touch with Wentworth! He used to be so hot to get in touch with the pope. Now I’m the fucking pope, it’s been two weeks and I still haven’t heard anything back from him! I’m the head of the NcC! An increasingly small er NcC…

  How do we stop this thing?

  BC paces across the length of his papal office, the same office in which he once met with Pope Linus, waiting as he tries to get another call through to Wentworth Station. I’m wearing out a path in the carpeting already. Why hasn’t the call gone through yet?

  “Campion!” a voice rings out. Wentworth.

  Just who I’ve been waiting for.

  “That’s Pope Peter the Fourth to you now, My Son,” BC says in mock solemnity, trying hard not to laugh.

  “So I’ve heard. Apparently, we no longer need worry about getting in touch with the pope. What is it you want?”

  “Right to the point. I always liked that about you, Wentworth,” BC says. “I want to know what more you know about this plague...”

  “We still don’t have a clue,” Wentworth admits. He changes the subject. “I can’t believe they made you pope!”

  “Shows you how bad it’s gotten, huh?” BC jokes.

  “Terpa told me you’d been proclaimed a Cardinal. I had no idea you’d take it this far.”

  “It just, uh, sort of happened,” BC explains.

  “Even after all this started at your peace conference!” Wentworth says, nearly snorting.

  “What? Are you blaming me, now?”

  “No, but we still have heard nothing from Mars!” Wentworth shouts. “This whole plague still could easily be a UIN plot! We don’t even know that they’ve been affected. Infected!” Wentworth is almost yelling. I’ve never heard him lose emotional control like this. He’s usually so cool, aloof, elite…