The following is an excerpt from my novel, IMPRESSIONS. This scene comes from Chapter 20. After being declared as God by an artificial intelligence program named Aeon, Lina Waters meets with the most prominent religious leader in the world: Pope Aeitus of the Catholic Church. I'm not quite sure why the formatting issues have caused the beginning of each sentence to be bolded.
Escorted by guards and bishops into a golden-laden hall, Lina swore (though maybe she wasn’t supposed to do that in a holy place) that everyone could hear her pounding heart. It wasn’t hot - in fact, cold air seeped through her thin sleeves - but sweat piled on her forehead like she’d stepped into a humid haze.
The Sistine Chapel was larger than Lina imagined it to be, and much more grandiose. Precise paintings plastered the walls and ceilings, and a mosaic of colored stones adorned the floors. She took slow steps, but attempting to absorb the enormity of it all was like trying to comprehend how the infinite universe was ever-expanding.
Lina stared at the ceiling, her neck tilted so far backwards that it began to strain. The elaborate depictions created by Michelangelo himself made Lina understand her parents’ faith a little more.
Genesis. The creation story. The fall of man. And somehow, there she was, standing in the middle of it all, sweaty palms making faint stains against her red dress.
As she tore her eyes from the overhead artistry, she saw him. Dressed in a white cassock, an old man with a lopsided grin and a snaggletooth stood before her. He wore an amused expression on his wrinkled face, as if she were a child, not an Agnostic who challenged his faith’s core.
There were no cameras. No press. No bishops, priests, or deacons. Even Will, Chance, and Sophie stayed outside the room. No devices were allowed in the Chapel, so it was safe from the interference of Aeon. It was just Lina, and the living face of an entire religious denomination.
“Pope Aeitus,” Lina breathed. Then, she didn’t know what to do next. So she curtsied, stumbling over her feet as she returned to standing.
“‘Your Holiness’ is the preferred greeting,” Pope Aeitus said, a hearty laugh at the end of his sentence.
Oh my god. Lina was mortified. She couldn’t say one goddamn – oops, not goddamn – she couldn’t get out three words before offending the Pope.
Her quickened breathing rendered her lightheaded; Lina knew her lie of omission had escalated out of control. Her most divine quality was her ability to turn a cherry stem into a knot. She couldn’t fool the most famed religious leader alive, and she didn’t want to.
“It’s okay,” He whispered, “It’s just a title. Maybe you’ll understand.”
Lina flinched.
“Do you believe?” The Pope asked, “In God? In Heaven?”
Lina opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing and risk damnation. Not eternally–on Earth.
“I believe in the afterlife,” she said, her voice quiet.
She touched the ring around her pointer finger. Ilias, the ever-blooming magnolia. She wished she could close her eyes and envision him in that chapel, his presence next to hers. Just breathe, Lina, he would say, The Pope is just a person. He knew how to ground her when she floated.
“I have a friend there,” she added.
The Pope nodded, his magnanimous patience apparent, “Religion is a tricky thing. People think faith is about certainty. That it is about knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God exists. But that’s not faith at all, that’s fear. Faith is what you cling to when certainty is impossible.”
Lina mirrored the Pope’s sentiments, “Faith is a beautiful thing. It must be nice to have enough to fuel entire congregations.”
It was the Pope who was quiet then.
“I have faith in God,” the Pope said, “though I humbly admit, I do not know what God looks like.”
Lina inhaled. The opulent space spun, and she swallowed.
She whispered, “Are you saying that you don’t know if I’m God?”
Pope Aeitus smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening, “Do you?”
“I’m –” Lina tried, but her words fell short.
She glanced over, a fresco of a holy figure levitating before a praying crowd glaring back at her, daring her to prove her divinity. Though her heart rate slowed, the cool sweat forming on her forehead didn’t show any signs of relinquishing. She took a deep inhale, the smell of ancient texts filling her nostrils.
“The Church has survived wars, plagues, emperors, and revolutions,” Pope Aeitus said, “The Vatican has watched a thousand people claim divinity. And yet, here we are, on the brink of an era that parallels Revelations.”
Lina studied the Pope. Despite his calm demeanor and reassuring smile, in his words rested a truth.
“You know about the climate crisis, don’t you?” she asked before she could take back her audacity. “And the bunker?”
The Pope gave a soft laugh, “The underground lifestyle wouldn’t be a proper fit for an old man like me.”
Her hands ran across her face. She searched the sanctuary for something – a chair, a stool, a ladder, anything–only to see the room barren.
The Pope placed his hands behind his back, his tone darkening, “I don’t know if you are God, Miss Waters.”
Her mouth went dry. The Pope was in his 80s, creeping towards his 90s. For the sake of the old man’s psyche, she wanted to give him an answer. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t holy. She wanted to tell this gentle, aging man that she wasn’t God, or a prophet, or a divine leader in any capacity. She wanted to say that she wasn’t any more holy than the bottles of Grey Goose she downed on her weekends.
But the truth was, she was no longer certain of anything.
He took a steady step forward, “If you are God, Lina Waters… the world will kill you.”
The grand room shrank, becoming infinitesimal, a claustrophobic Lina trapped within. Lina couldn’t tell if Pope Aeitus’ words were his threat or his truth.
She accepted personal sacrifice. She sacrificed her college, her anonymity, her parents. She volunteered to sacrifice her personhood. But she never volunteered to sacrifice her life.
“Why would you say that?” Lina spat, her voice loud and tone defensive, “I’m not going to die.”
“God doesn’t survive Earth,” The Pope smiled, “Earth survives God. God survives after.”
