The Voice of God

The Voice of God
By
Raman Jalota

    The pope felt dizzy. He stumbled as his head buzzed again. What’s going on? Am I dying? Is this it? The ultimate question stunned him. He walked to his bed methodically as if in slow motion, putting one foot down, transferring his weight and then putting the next foot forward. He bent, put his hands on the bed to balance himself and slowly sat down.
    Pope Vladimir Verducchi was in great health. At age sixty-two he could still play four sets of singles Tennis every other day. His eyes were bright, his lungs healthy and his weight under control. He could very well live to be a hundred or more. Yet on this bright April morning he sat on his bed with his head between his hands, his life forces at an unexpected low.
    It had been very clear. Vladichika ... his father’s soft voice echoed in his head. It was so clear he could see his father’s face. The seventy-six year old man with snow white hair and beard. He was sitting in his favorite chair out in the sun, near his flowers and still trying to read the Pravda and make sense of the Twenty-fifth century.
    Vladichika, you must help the church. You have to help the church become what it was destined to be. You must help God in his great plan. You must discuss this with the holy father.
    Little did he know that in a few short years, his son would be the holy father, but he himself would not live to see the first Russian to be so elected.
    Vladimir slowly opened his eyes, “Papa ... is that you papa?”
    The silence of the great chamber absorbed his words. He placed his palm against his forehead. No I don’t have a fever. I must rest. He disrobed slowly and lay on the bed. Soon his heavy breathing echoed reassuringly as if from the walls of the womb.

.....

    The receptionist clutched the phone unbelievingly, “Doctor Dushman, it’s someone from the Vatican. They want to talk to you about the pope.”
    “This is Dr. Dushman. What can I do for you?”
    “I am cardinal Sarducchi calling from ... how you say it ... the Vatican in the Rome, Italy. The holy father, he is not feeling so good. We would like for you to examine him ... yes?”
    Tracy was stunned. She never expected a call like this. She will just have to cancel all appointments and attend to the pope.
    “Can you tell me what has happened?”
    “I’ll let father Smyth describe his condition. He is our doctor ... our physician here in the Vatican. Please you must hurry right away, perhaps today.”
    Tracy heard the details from father Smyth who seemed to be well-versed in general medicine. The MRI and VMM arrived immediately and she started studying them intently.

.....

    “Vladichika, do you remember how nice the September sun was in our garden?”
    The pope could not ignore his father, “Yes, papa. I remember. But I don’t understand how you ...”
    “Always impatient ... listen to me Vladimir. I want you to remember how I had wanted you to help the church, how I had wanted you to help God in his work.”
    “I remember, papa.” He held his head in his hands and stared at the floor of the bedroom. The attendants stared at him incredulously.
    “Now listen to me carefully Vladimir. God wants to talk to you himself.”
    “God wants to talk to me, papa. Please help me, my head ...”
    Two of the attendants helped him off his feet and one of them dipped a washcloth in ice water and placed it on his forehead.
    “This is getting dangerous. How long before the word gets out?”
    Father Sarducchi whispered, “The good doctor from America is on her way. This doctor is the best. The best in the world. She will help him and us.” He made the sign of the cross and knelt at the door before withdrawing.

.....

    “Holy father, please disrobe completely.”
    “But, you are a woman. I can not show you my naked body.”
    “O.K. I’ll have someone else give you a physical. Let me listen to your heart.”
    She attached the scope to his chest and watched the monitor. The brain and heart waves were dancing in regular synchronized patterns. She examined his eyes and tapped the right temple with her fingers. She punched keys on the remote and watched the graphics on the monitor.
    “Holy father, you are in perfect heath. Your heart is in excellent shape and your brain has no abnormal pressure or rhythm. Can you tell me exactly what’s troubling you?”
    “I ... I hear my father talk. He has been dead for sixteen years. I am certain it is my father.”
    “When does this happen? I mean ... is it after you eat a certain food or ... at a certain time .. or”
    “No, this has happened in the shower, in the bedroom, in the council; almost anytime and regardless of what I ate ... even when I fasted as father Smyth suggested.”
    “So, do you hear this voice when you are tired or after you have been exercising ?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll monitor you the next two days to see what I can find. So far, you are probably the healthiest sixty-two year old man in the world. You are healthier than many forty year old men. All the tests appear normal.”
    The pope looked at her intently and said, “Do you believe that my father is trying to talk to me?”
    Tracy put her hand to her face, “I am a Hindu by birth but I don’t believe in life after death or any such phenomenon.”
    “So do you not believe in your own religion?”
    “My religion is humanity, my belief is what my head and heart agree on. I don’t really belong to any religion.”
    “Could my father be talking to me?”
    “What do you think?”
    “I can hear him very clearly. He reminds me of things we had talked about. His voice is exactly as it was the last year of his life.”
    “Are your conversations unpleasant by any chance?”
    “They were not till last Tuesday, when he told me that God wanted to talk to me. And that frightens me. I know ...”
    Cardinal Sarducchi walked in and motioned for her to step out. She walked out of the room followed by the cardinal.
    “Please, you must be very careful with what he says to you. These conversations are very delicate and ... how you say it ... secret?”
    “Don’t worry. I understand the confidential nature of these conversations.”

.....

    “But we have no choice. He is as sane as he ever was; that’s what that brain surgeon said. We have to let him conduct himself as he pleases.”
    Father Smyth stood up, “I also did not find anything wrong with him. He is as healthy or perhaps healthier than most of us. His brain is as sharp as it has ever been and even when he hears these voices, he is still completely rational. I can’t find any fault with his mind or body.”
    Cardinal Sarducchi waved his hand for attention. He didn’t bother to stand up and use any more of his energy. His overweight, under-worked body was used to nothing but soft cushions. “I have to agree, even though reluctantly, that we have to let him lead us where he may.”
    The special council adjourned, everyone making the sign of the cross more fervently than ever before. The apprehension with the pope’s public appearance on Friday made them call for divine intervention even more religiously.

.....

     His skin was silvery and he stared with his orange slits at the vo-corder, “This is God ...
no, must make it soft ... this is ... ahem ... this ... this is God speaking.” A soft but metallic voice with perfect diction filled the room. He turned the controls on the vo-corder and watched the graphics as he kept practicing, “This is God speaking ... I am God, Pope .... no, I must never call him ‘pope’ ... This is God, Vladimir ... listen to my voice ... remember my voice ... repeat what I say ... repeat .. repeat ... repeat.”
    He smiled satisfied with the settings, “Jyowak, I have it where I want it. Whenever you have the script ready, I will set it in motion.”

....

    The pope stood on his balcony and waved to the crowd. The cameras were transmitting the scene live to the world but he had dealt with their presence for many years and had learned to use them for his own advantage. He started with a little prayer. The mike picked up the Latin words and the crowd in the courtyard tried to accompany him. The prayer over, he raised his hands, blessing the crowd.
    He reached for the microphone, “Fellow Christians, I wish you a wonderful Friday, especially to the little ones that I see here.”
    The crowd cheered his remarks. As the crowd looked, he placed his right hand on his forehead.
    “I have been talking to my father. My father, as you know was responsible for molding a young Vladimir’s mind into what you see before you today. My father has told me that God wants to talk to me. And today God is here with me, on this balcony.”
    Cardinal Sarducchi wrung his hands. He couldn't just go and bring him in from the balcony. That would be too awkward and obvious. He wondered aloud what he could do? He stared at the other councilmen. No one moved.
    The crowd was silent as never before. The revelation from the holy father and God was anticipated with held breaths and silent Hail Mary’s.
    “God wants me to tell you that today, a Friday, is no different than the rest of the week.”
    Cardinal Sarducchi sighed in relief. This was not going to be too bad after all.
    “In fact God wants us to treat a Friday like any other day of the week. No different. There’s no special significance to Friday. The church has created this pretentious misleading association with Friday for centuries. I want you to discontinue that as of today ... as of now.”
    The crowd was absolutely still. The same thought could be traced on many faces. These are God’s words? What does it really mean? What is going on?
    “God wants me to give you a special message today. He has blessed Christians, Jews, Moslems, Buddhists and all the rest equally. He wants you to know that all religions are the same. There’s nothing special about one or the other. All roads lead to him. All religions and all men are truly equal.”
    This was finally too much for him. Cardinal Sarducchi was waving his hands desperately. Two of the attendants walked out to the balcony and gently but firmly escorted him in. Cardinal Sarducchi yelled at father Smyth to talk to the people and terminate the broadcast.

.....

    “This is not just a special council, this is a top secret council. Those of you not prepared to deal with the serious nature of Vladimir Verducchi’s problems and what they mean to the future of the church should leave now, before it’s too late.” Cardinal Alex Parmolii glanced around silently. None of the twelve occupants moved.
    Cardinal Sarducchi sipped at his coffee, “This room is too damp. I hate this musky smell. Can’t we do something about it? It’s so thick I can taste it. I am suffocating.”
    One of them got up and lit a wicker of incense, placing it in a brass plate on the table.
    “Thank you. This is much better. O.K. now, like cardinal Parmolii, I want to be sure that all of us are indeed prepared to do the extreme to resolve this extreme problem, yes?”
    Everyone nodded seriously in silent assent. After a gap of a few seconds, Father Judas Andersen raised his hand for attention, “How far are we going to go?”
    “As far as it takes.”
    Cardinal Parmolii broke the silence, “Most of you will agree that the pope’s words from Friday will wipe out centuries of work that we and our ancestors have done. What he has done is to set a cycle of destruction in motion. It will be very hard to stop it or contain it. It’s like a violent fire that runs through the woods with a mind of its own. Like the lava from the volcano.
    “Cardinal Sarducchi and I are of the opinion that we must prevent the pope from ever making an uncontrolled speech like that.”
    “But how will you prevent him from speaking his mind? He is a very independent man, this Russian.”
    “Perhaps that’s what we must decide, Father Andersen. What is silence and how do we silence him?”
    “You mean ...”

.....

    The full council waited for the pope to be seated. A complete silence covered the hall as Cardinal Parmolii hesitated for a few seconds. He stood and addressed the council, “We are honored by your presence, holy father. We have asked you to this council because we are very concerned with the events of last week.
    “The press has reported that the pope is either hallucinating or trying to create a new form of Christianity. We cut last Friday’s live-cast by forty minutes and most stations jumped in with their religious experts who have twisted your words to mean something other than what you meant.”
    Vladimir Verducchi looked at the council with an amused frown. These bastards are trying to control me. They are trying to control the destiny of the church. They are trying to control God. They are truly perverted and are defiling the purpose of God. He signaled with his right hand and slowly stood up, “Fellow brothers, I have been examined by another doctor, a French one this time. I am in perfect health. I am not hallucinating. This is the truth as I know it ... My own father has been speaking to me now for three weeks. At first I felt afraid and ill, but once I accepted the words I was hearing were coming from him, I felt peaceful, as if all illnesses had been banished from my body.
“When God spoke to me, all doubts disappeared. His voice sounded exactly like I had ever imagined it to be ... actually beyond what I had ever imagined it to be. It was soft like a gentle father, yet strong like a teacher and absolute like a judge. He has a calming, rejuvenating effect on me. I dont feel sixty-two years old, I feel twenty. His words were truer than my words have ever been. The words I heard and repeated were indeed Gods own words. I would do anything he asks of me. I represent the church but I would gladly represent an authority greater than the church: God.”

.....

    “This is going to remain between the three of us. Cardinal Parmolii says that you have certain connections in your hometown of Palermo.”
    “Cardinal Sarducchi, I did spend my childhood in Palermo and three years at the Church of Saint John of the Hermits. I dealt with several different layers of the society and did come in contact with some saintly and some very dangerous people.”
    “Yes, yes; that’s all good. But I want you to tell him about your relationship with these people, especially the ones who would do anything for you.”
    “Like I told Cardinal Parmolii, I helped many people including helping some of them escape the cruel and unreasonable police chief. Some of these people are highly organized and are capable of dangerous things. What were you ...”
    “Father Andersen, you were part of our secret council, you do realize what we may have to do, yes?”
    “What would you like me to arrange? I will help in any way I can.”
    Cardinal Sarducchi poured wine into three glasses and handed them out. He took a long sip, “The next public appearance for Vladimir is a short one. There will be a parade of the people on Mother Teresa day and they will gather in the courtyard under his balcony. This will be three weeks from now. He will only come out on the balcony for a brief period of time to bless the people and perhaps to say a prayer. Nothing more. Five to ten minutes. Understand?”

.....

     The first banner proudly proclaimed ‘Sisters of Mother Teresa’s Church, Calcutta’. A handful of nuns walked with the sign, followed by several national and international groups. A few men were scattered here and there. The morning sun was too weak to dispel the chill in the courtyard.
    A small group was positioned about fifty yards to the left of the balcony. Three of the nuns were sitting on the stone pavement while the rest of them stood around. Lenny Bandaras adjusted the nun’s hood on his face and flexed his arms. The sleeveless shirt under the habit allowed him enough freedom. He moved his hands under the habit, carefully unhooked the scope from its holster and placed it next to the back of the sister sitting in front of him. He looked at his watch.
    One of the sisters nodded her head, “Three minutes, Lenny.”
    He unhooked the six parts of the Zee-22 rifle and started assembling them methodically. The standing group shielded him well from any prying eyes. The rifle assembled and loaded, lay at his feet with seconds to go.
    The doors slowly opened and pope Vladimir Verducchi stepped out on the balcony. The courtyard came alive. Everyone stood clapping, cheering, welcoming him. The pope surveyed the crowd. He raised his hands and waved to them in his usual fatherly gesture. Left, right and center. He made the sign of the cross blessing the gathering and reached for the mike.
   Lenny placed the barrel of the rifle on the shoulder of the nun in front of him, She knelt to give him a stable platform. He looked through the scope and placed the center of the cross-wire on the pope’s forehead. He started squeezing the trigger as the pope began to speak .

.....

    The orange slits in the silver face smiled at the monitor, “Come and watch this part, Jyowak. This is when I whispered to him that all men are equal crap.”
    Another silvery creature, thinner and muscular walked in to the room, “Enough already, over and over, you want to watch what you made that hapless creature do. What’s so great about that? You haven’t conquered the world yet.”
    “Yes Jyowak, you are right. But I am the voice of God and this is just the beginning after all.”

The End   3153 words

Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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