Authors: Glenn Kleier
A hush pervaded the crowd once more.
Jeza looked tired and frustrated. “You ask for a sign that you might believe,” she said heavily. “And yet of your own followers do you demand unquestioned faith. I say to you, the only sign you shall receive shall be in the fulfillment of my words!”
Di Concerci started to challenge her once more, but she cut him short. Her eyes blazing, she slashed her right arm forcefully down at him, extending a judgmental forefinger and startling the entire assembly with the volume of her pronouncement:
“Thus be the will of God!”
she exclaimed. “Woe to those who fail to hearken to His Word. Go forth now from this place,
and try no longer the patience of the Lord!”
Exasperated and angered, but containing it masterfully, the prefect recognized that any further efforts to repudiate this demagogue would be in vain. He knew now that he would have been much better served not entering into a debate with her. By default, her invocation of God in defense of any argument was a fait accompli. To his great dismay, di Concerci realized he had only managed to make the Church look worse in this confrontational exchange.
A few seats away from Cardinal di Concerci, an ashen Brother Elijah Petway rose on behalf of the Mormons to conclude the devastated proceedings. But before he could speak, a stout arm, draped in black and crimson, reached from behind and grasped his microphone.
Di Concerci was shocked to observe the energized face of Alphonse Litti. In a breathless, reverential manner, Litti announced himself. “Most Holy Daughter of God,” he began, and di Concerci clenched his teeth. “I am Alphonse Bongiorno Litti, a cardinal of the Curia and Magisterium of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. And I have a humble but urgent request of you.”
Jeza gazed down from her pulpit, an endearing look gradually replacing the anger on her face.
“Great Lady,” Litti continued, “other than yourself, there is no more recognized spiritual leader in the world than the supreme pontiff of the Catholic Church, His Holiness Pope Nicholas VI. As a direct descendant of Saint Peter and leader of Christianity's oldest and most continuous religion, it's vital that the pontiff meet you and hear your word. Would you allow yourself a personal audience with His Holiness?”
Di Concerci leaned forward quickly to protest into his microphone. “Speaking as a member of the Curia
in good standing”
the prefect said, “I must caution that the pope's schedule is a most pressing one, and I am uncertain—”
Litti would hear none of it. “The pope will not,
cannot
abdicate his responsibility to the faithful,” he interrupted. “Nicholas cannot refuse to meet with a proclaimed Messiah who professes the revealed Word of God. It's the pontiff's sacred obligation to hear this special lady, and to personally evaluate Her important message!”
Di Concerci dared not protest too strongly or risk portraying the Church as weak and fearful. And perhaps he should not be so hasty after all. Such a meeting, assuming this mercurial woman even accepted, might yet explore ways to defuse this dangerous development. Certainly, a proposed conference with the pope would at least forestall the current dilemma. And it would buy time for Holy Mother Church and her associate world religions to regroup and counter Jeza's absurd self-destruct order—a command which many clergy in the audience were obviously taking seriously.
Responding directly to Cardinal Litti, without even acknowledging di Concerci, the Messiah stated flatly, “Yes, I will come.”
Salt Lake City Airport, Utah 6:19
P.M
., Sunday, March 5, 2000
F
eldman saw the reserved, pensive prophetess safely to her cabin in the jetliner where she retired for the rest of the day. Then, donning his trusted sunglasses and a ball cap pulled low to conceal himself, he retreated with Hunter and Cissy to a concourse cocktail lounge to reflect. The mood of the patrons around them was gloomy. Ordering a round of beers, the three newspeople listened quietly to the TV telecasts as a tale of global distress unfolded before them.
From dozens of cities across the world, the reports were rolling in—all uncannily alike. There was a great religious schizophrenia in evidence. Despite Jeza's dictates, many people were flocking to churches, synagogues and temples desperately seeking solace, direction, hope. As often as not, they were met by angered ecclesiasts who were vigorously discrediting the Messiah and disputing her claims and prophecies.
Nevertheless, sizable numbers of clergy were submitting heart and soul to Jeza's commands, forsaking their churches. Particularly the Catholic Church, which had been most notably embarrassed at the convocation. Many congregations and former congregations shared a common despair and assumption that the end of the world was rapidly approaching. Incidents of panic attacks, nervous breakdowns, suicides and mass hysteria were common, particularly in the West. The level of these incidents exceeded even those that occurred during the infamous Black Eve of the millennium. Outbreaks of violence, however, were relatively few.
The world was in a Great Depression certainly more definitive than any previously experienced. In those parts of the globe where Monday morning had already arrived, absences from private- and public-sector jobs were widespread, effectively shutting down many important industries and government services, throwing everyday life into turmoil.
Although WNN would actually return Jeza to Cairo, as she had requested, hundreds of thousands of people were planning pilgrimages to the Holy Land in anticipation of the Messiah returning to Jerusalem for Judgment Day, as the Bible predicted. Their arrangements, however, were frustrated by the shortage of booking agents and travel personnel, who had deserted their posts.
The deteriorating situation was a serious concern to governments everywhere. It was particularly uncomfortable for U.S. President Allen Moore, who was now desperately seeking to distance himself from his recent house guest. On the TV above the bar, Feldman and his associates viewed Moore delivering a statement from the White House press room.
The president was reading from an index card: “… this administration had no forewarning regarding the content of this alleged prophet's message to the religious convention,” he said, his upper lip moist, his eyes having difficulty meeting the camera. “Furthermore, we wish to stress that, in keeping with typical biblical stories, the colorful comments heard earlier today are most certainly meant to be allegorical and are not, I repeat,
not
to be taken literally …”
“Not very convincing, is he,” Hunter smirked.
“How can he be?” Cissy sympathized. “There's no questioning what Jeza said in that hall. And if you happen to believe in her, you're quaking on your knees right now, ticking off the minutes till the Cataclysm.”
“I have to say,” Feldman interjected, “some of her comments struck a chord with me. Like her points about man's obsession with religious trivia and rituals—those tiny pebbles theologians stumble over.”
Feldman vividly recalled what certain relatively minor distinctions between the Jewish and Catholic religions had done to disrupt his parents’ marriage. Many times, as a frightened, clueless little boy, he'd intervened futilely in bitter quarrels over trifling issues. In the grand scheme of things, did it truly matter whether the proper day of Sabbath was Saturday or Sunday?
Not to mention his parents’ great, classic bone of contention—whether or not Jesus Christ was, indeed, the promised Redeemer. This, too, was an inconsequential issue, Feldman had later come to decide. After all, the core principles of both the Jewish and Catholic faiths were the Ten Commandments, and since few on either side of the religious coin seemed to master even these simple, clear-cut tenets, Feldman saw no point in arguing more abstract doctrine.
“Look how all me religions out there squabble among themselves,” Feldman remarked, “each claiming to be the one true faith. There's absolutely no way for the sincere, well-meaning worshiper of the world to really know for sure which religion, if any, is right.”
“Will the real God stand up?” Hunter snorted, irreverently. “Where
is
the Supreme Waldo?”
Feldman shook his head and rocked back in his chair. “Look, I know we're all supposed to be professional, impartial, hard-nosed journalists here, but can you guys continue to sit there and tell me this whole Jeza thing isn't starting to spook you just a bit?”
No answer.
“Think about it,” Feldman expounded. “Beyond all those amazing capabilities Jeza got from the Negev lab, there's still a hell of a lot going on that doesn't quite compute. Just look at all the hundreds of afflicted people over the last two months who've claimed she's cured them. Some of them have been pretty damn convincing. It can't all be psychosomatic, can it?
“Then, there are those odd little things she seems to have prior knowledge about. On the plane ride over from Cairo, she warned me about upcoming turbulence before the pilot did, for chrissakes!
“And have you ever wondered why it is WNN always happens to be in the right place at the right time? It's wearing a bit thin trying to explain everything as simply a bunch of bizarre coincidences.”
Hunter emitted a short laugh. “It's a hell of a lot easier than explaining them as miracles.”
Feldman shot right back. “You pile up enough coincidences, that in itself is a miracle.”
“Well,” Cissy admitted, “I don't claim to have an explanation for all those things, but I do have a theory about this mission from the Father she's frightening everybody about.” She looked around to make certain no one could overhear her, and then cautiously lowered her voice. “I think Jeza's reacting to a subliminal message Jozef Leveque planted inside her to help her handle the military infusion stuff. You know, a safety valve or protective default or whatever.
“I mean, wouldn't you do something to protect your child from that kind of brainwashing? And men later, when Jeza got mixed up with that Samaritan cult, she simply got Leveque's message confused with all the doomsday garbage they fed her. So now she thinks her mission is to prepare for an Apocalypse.”
“Jesus, I don't know what to believe anymore.” Feldman groaned loudly. “I've managed to live my whole adult life with this God thing shoved over in a corner. I couldn't make any sense of it. I'd look for God, but I could never see Him. I was fed up with all the bickering religions and their contradictory theologies and preachy gibberish. And now, I find myself pulling out all my confusions and dusting them off again.”
He took off his ball cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don't know what's happening here, guys, but I have to tell you, there's
something
very strange going on, and it's starting to worry me.”
“Don't tell me you buy into all this scare talk about the Last Day?” Cissy asked, disbelievingly.
“No,” Feldman assured her. “At least, not a biblical Last Day.” His face clouded. “But if you look at where this whole millenarian movement is heading, certainly all the ingredients are here for one hell of a confrontation. What you call it, I guess, just depends on your perspective.”
“Well, I'll give you a videographer's perspective if you want one,” Hunter offered. “This is a Cataclysm, all right. A Cataclysm of crap! Jeza is as crackers as they come. I agree with Cissy. Jeza's brain is all twisted up from those mad scientist experiments they did on her. She really
believes
she's some sort of Messiah. And why the hell not? What else has she got? No parents. No family. No childhood. No sex life. Nothin’. Nothin’ but bullshit illusions of grandeur, stuck in her head from some damn computer and those goddamn Samaritans.
“But I tell you what, whether she's responsible for her actions or not, if that little woman continues down the hell-bent path she's on, she's gonna find herself in a lot hotter water than she's already in. It's one thing to have a bunch of religious fanatics out to burn your ass. It's an altogether more serious deal to mess with the international conduct of business and nations. And the rest of the world aside, she's destabilizing the Mideast, man. She's threatening the oil lanes. And when you do that, you run afoul of the CIA and the National Security Administration— and a whole lot worse!”
This ominous observation was not a welcome insight for Feldman. He sighed. Despite his misgivings about Jeza, he could not deny a strange affection growing inside him for the desolate little woman he'd left resting alone in the airplane beyond. An admiration for her convictions, her remarkable poise and mysticism.
And also a great pity. He could not ignore the basic truth in Hunter's statements. Despite the technological marvel of her mind and her extraordinary abilities, she was, after all, only human. And sooner or later, she was going to have to come to terms with the unpleasant facts about her true nature.
Mormon Convention Center, Salt Lake City, Utah 7:09
P.M
., Sunday, March 5, 2000
A
lphonse Cardinal Litti was not quite sure how to take all the attention. In only a matter of hours, he'd gone from relative obscurity to international acclaim. Suddenly, he'd become the official Exegete Extraordinaire in matters concerning the mysterious Jeza.
In the lobby of the Convention Hall, Litti was surrounded by hot lights, cameras, microphones and avid news crews, all crowding in to hang on his every word. What had initiated all this uproar were the predictions he had made in his preconvocation TV interview. Litti had proclaimed Jeza to be a bona fide Messiah and flatly declared that she'd be calling for the abolishment of all organized religions as seriously flawed and failed institutions. When, out of hundreds of opinions televised, Litti's proved exclusively and absolutely dead-on correct, the networks and the world at large took respectful and immediate notice.
“Tell us when and where the meeting between Jeza and the pope will take place,” a newswoman shouted, jabbing a microphone at the cardinal's face.
“We're not sure yet,” Litti responded, perspiring under the lights and feeling a bit overwhelmed. “We're hoping for two weeks from today, possibly in Rome. I know that communications with the Vatican commenced a short while ago, immediately after the Messiah left the hall.”