Bipolar WINTER. Samuel David Steiner
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from your office.” Even as the words left his mouth he couldn’t believe he’d said them aloud. Accusing a pope of orchestrating such a plan, even if that pope had lived four centuries earlier, was treason. He stared at the rug at his feet, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. There was no way he’d be allowed to remain a Catholic now.
The pope leaned back and graced Aldo with a gentle smile. “You look like a man awaiting the guillotine.”
“Well,” Aldo glanced at Cardinal Bastianelli, “excommunication is death to me.”
The pope’s eyebrows rose. “I am not known to excommunicate a parishioner for a simple honest answer.” Then his face relaxed. “No, I have called you here for a different purpose entirely. I want to offer you a position.”
“A job?” Aldo choked in disbelief.
“You have a bright mind and I need your help.”
The pope needs my help? Aldo took a deep breath, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts. The day was becoming more and more surreal. He half-expected to wake up at any moment in the hospital from a skiing accident. “What sort of position?”
“We’ll go over the particulars at a later date. For the time being, we need to get you up to speed with what has been happening.” The pope’s expression grew serious. “Our Church is in peril.”
Aldo leaned forward. “What sort of peril?”
Benedict tilted his head. “You have an idea. You’ve been writing essays about it for the past nine months.”
Aldo scanned his memory. He’d written numerous essays, mostly as a way of cataloging information he had uncovered during his thesis research but couldn’t use in the final paper. But what had he uncovered that could threaten the Church?
“The Dark Internet?” Aldo asked after a moment. The pope nodded. “So, I was right,” Aldo said, sitting back. His peers at the university had called his theories crazy. While he now knew he would never get the academic accreditation he’d hoped for, he still felt validated knowing he’d been right all along.
“What is the Dark Internet?” the cardinal asked, stepping away from the door to join them.
Aldo looked to the pope, who gestured for Aldo to elaborate. Turning to face the cardinal as the older man took the seat beside him, Aldo said, “The Dark Internet is a large underground network, buried on servers unreachable from the internet the rest of the world uses. It’s vast, uncensored, and untraceable unless you know how to access it.”
Cardinal Bastianelli nodded, yet his brow remained creased with confusion. “How does the Dark Internet relate to the World Wide Web?”
Didn’t I just explain that? “Uh, well, if you think of the World Wide Web as an iceberg, the part above water would be the known or public internet, while the underwater portion is the Deep Web and Dark Internet. The Deep Web has never been indexed and can’t be reached by standard search engines. Navigating it is nearly impossible unless you know what you’re looking for. Below that lies the Dark Internet, comprised of computers and servers linked by an unhackable network. It’s an entirely hidden internet.”
“But what does this have to do with the Church?” the cardinal asked.
“When researching my thesis, I discovered that Church information has been stored on servers connected to the Dark Internet. Perhaps even portions of the Vatican Secret Archives,” Aldo said. “Whether it’s accidental or intentional, I can’t say, but—”
“Preposterous!” the cardinal cried out. “Why have I never heard of this?”
Pope Benedict held up his hand. “Listen, my old friend. You are not privy to all the secrets of this office.” Then he nodded for Aldo to continue.
“It, uh,” Aldo’s voice cracked, “kind of makes sense if you think about it. The vast library of the Archives won’t last forever. Some of the most holy and precious documents are held in the underground, climate-controlled vault, but it might be safer to record and store the papers electronically.”
“Yes, we can’t risk the information being lost to future generations,” the pope said, folding his hands on his desk. “And so, putting the two riddles together, what do you surmise, Signore Lombardi?”
Aldo thought for a moment, trying to find the connection between his thesis and his essays on the Dark Internet. “Septem Montes. It’s been uploaded onto the Dark Internet,” he breathed.
“Yes,” the pope said, concern evident on his face. “All the historical documentation of what would be viewed as the biggest conspiracy on Earth has been circulating through the Dark Internet.”
Aldo shot forward on his seat. “But why would―”
“If it’s uncovered,” the cardinal said, “the stability of the Christian world would be shaken to its core.” It would be chaos. Christians everywhere would lose faith in their leaders, but most of all, they would blame the Catholic Church. But why had the Church created Septem Montes anyway?
“The riots that would break out could bring about the apocalypse,” the pope nodded. “You see why we’ve asked you here, Signore Lombardi. We need your help.”
Why me? I’m just a historian, not a systems analyst. But he had to admit this could all be his fault. If someone had found merit in his research, had read his thesis, then…“You think someone uploaded Septem Montes onto the Dark Internet intentionally?” Aldo asked, though he already knew the answer. He just had no idea who would do so or why.
The pope nodded slightly. “That is my fear. There have been rumblings from the Seventh. I think they may already know something.”
“The Seventh?” Aldo asked.
“The seventh sect created from Septem Montes.” Benedict steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. “Six of the seven distinct religions created kept to the plan, staying within the original design. However, one, the Seventh, strayed and is now like a rebellious teenager, seeking to gain independence at any cost.”
“More like a demon,” the cardinal muttered.
“Who are they? Which religion?” Aldo’s mind raced, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. But he was missing something, some major clue.
Pope Benedict and Cardinal Bastianelli glanced at each other. Then the cardinal said, “Let’s take this one step at a time.”
So, they don’t completely trust me. Considering the magnitude of what they were discussing, Aldo couldn’t really blame them. “But how exactly can I help? Don’t you need someone familiar with the Dark Internet?” The task of tracking down all traces of Septem Montes on an untraceable network was way outside his field of expertise.
“We’ll have to discuss that another day,” the pope said, “but for now, I must ask you to surrender all of your research.”
The stern look on the pope’s face made it clear there was more to the request than simply confiscating his life’s work. It was a gag order. Aldo nodded slowly. “Of course.”
“Good,” Pope Benedict said, standing up. As if on cue, the same server who had brought the now cold espresso emerged from a door at the side of the room and placed Aldo’s laptop bag on the pope’s desk. “I’ll have David bring you a new computer to use this evening. We have a lot of work ahead of us. You should rest.” The pope then turned to the younger man dressed in white robes. “David, please show Signore Lombardi to his room.”
What just happened? Aldo sat, trying to wrap his head around everything. When Cardinal Bastianelli rested a hand on his shoulder, Aldo glanced up in surprise. The cardinal smiled. “You thought you’d get a break from your studies, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I do apologize for cutting your vacation short,” the pope said. “But not to worry, Signore Lombardi.