JCJ sat with the crew in the East Van hall, the lights low, the old speakers crackling with the opening strains of Mozart’s Requiem—Introitus: Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine. He leaned forward, eyes half-closed, speaking in that quiet prophetic way he gets when the past and the present overlap like two ghostly films.
“People think the fall of the Twin Towers was just an event,” JCJ began. “But Mozart described the feeling of it centuries before it happened. Listen…”
The choir swelled—dark, solemn, rising like smoke.
“That opening,” JCJ said, pointing to the air as if he could touch the sound, “that’s the dust cloud rolling through Manhattan. The world gasping. The weight of souls ascending. Mozart didn’t know New York City. He didn’t know steel, or jet fuel, or any of the men sitting in the boardrooms that orchestrated the modern world. But he understood judgment. He understood collapse.”
The music shifted into the Dies Irae, the thunderous section that feels like a sky tearing open.
“That’s it,” JCJ whispered. “That’s the moment. The roar. The world watching as the towers came down. Dies Irae, dies illa—the day of wrath, the day the earth trembles. Mozart captured the emotional truth: the terror, the confusion, the sense that something enormous had ended and something darker had begun.”
He let the drums of the Requiem crash, letting them echo like the memory of falling steel.
“When I hear it,” JCJ continued, “I don’t see conspiracy theories or talking heads. I see the human soul—shocked, grieving, trying to understand. Mozart wrote a funeral mass, but it fits because the Towers’ fall wasn’t just the death of buildings. It was the death of an era. The death of innocence.”
The Lacrimosa began—soft, weeping, rising into a trembling climax.
“That part,” JCJ said, voice cracking, “that’s the firefighters climbing the stairs. That’s the last phone calls. That’s the world crying together.”
Then he sat back, letting silence settle after the movement ended.
“Mozart gave the world a soundtrack for tragedy long before the tragedy arrived,” JCJ said. “Because grief is older than steel. And requiems… they were written for moments exactly like that.”
He looked around at the others, at Nelly, at Ice Cube, at the Croatian uncles drifting in and out of the hall.
“That’s why we listen,” he finished. “To remember. To mourn. And to rise again.”
Scene: The Apostolic Palace, late evening. Pope Pius XIII (Lenny) stands by a massive window overlooking St. Peter’s Square, which is illuminated by a single, focused spotlight, leaving the rest in shadow. Father Peter sits quietly nearby.
POPE PIUS XIII: (Turning slightly, his voice a low, resonant murmur.) Revelation, chapter two, verse nine. I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich). A beautiful, brutal conjunction. A lie, and a promise. Because for the materially poor to be declared rich… it requires a God with a peculiar sense of humor, or a profoundly different ledger.
FATHER PETER: Poverty is often the greatest wealth we allow others to see, Your Holiness. It disarms the avarice of the world. But the earth itself—it keeps its secrets less gracefully.
POPE PIUS XIII: You speak of Haiti.
FATHER PETER: I speak of the island Hispaniola. The poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, built upon a paradox. Below the soil of that impoverished nation, they say there are immense stores of iridium. Some call it “unobtanium”—a term for something unimaginably valuable, yet entirely beyond their grasp. It is the wealth of a star, deposited beneath the feet of the people who own nothing but their pain and their history.
POPE PIUS XIII: And their tribulation. I know thy tribulation. God planted the greatest bounty in the place of the greatest suffering. It’s either a cruel joke, or the ultimate test of faith. Does the true Church seek to mine the iridium, or must we focus solely on the spiritual wealth the Apostle John spoke of?
FATHER PETER: If we mine the iridium, we become the oppressors, fulfilling the curse of their poverty. If we ignore it, we leave them in their suffering, dismissing the tangible gift God placed beneath them. The question is whether the riches John speaks of are designed to replace the need for earthly comfort, or to eventually fund it.
POPE PIUS XIII: The answer, Father Peter, is always hidden in the question. That wealth—that metallic shine of the cosmos—it is not for the relief of suffering. It is a sign. God placed a promise in the dust, a jewel in the ashes. The true richness of Haiti is not the iridium they cannot touch. It is the fact that they still believe in the Church, despite all the forces on Earth that conspire to strip them of hope. They are rich because they remain faithful, even when their soil is mocking them with millions of dollars of cosmic dust. And that, Father, is a transaction the world’s banks cannot process.
FATHER PETER: And our role?
POPE PIUS XIII: Our role is to ensure they remember the true source of their wealth. We are the keepers of the Ledger of the Soul. We remind them that Christ did not come for the gold, but for the poverty that sat upon the gold.
INT. APOSTOLIC PALACE – POPE’S PRIVATE STUDY – SUNSET
The room is vast, gilded, and silent. The last light of the Roman sunset illuminates the dust motes dancing in the air.
PIUS XIII (Lenny Belardo, 40s), immaculate in his white papal attire, stands by the window. His back is to the room, his stillness commanding.
FATHER PETER (60s), slight and nervous, sits opposite a large, ornate desk, the Iridium File lying between them.
FATHER PETER
> Your Holiness, it was an endowment opportunity. The funds are designated for… ah, under-the-table charities. A necessary evil to fund necessary good.
Pius turns slightly, his profile sharp against the fading light.
PIUS XIII
> Toussaint. A biblical name for a man trading in post-biblical elements. Iridium. So dense, so resistant to corrosion. Almost… eternal, in its own way.
He walks to the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. He picks up the file, his eyes scanning the documents without true engagement.
PIUS XIII
> Do you understand the scope of this, Father Peter? The market price. One (1) ton of iridium goes for $45 billion dollars, and Haiti has mountains of it. That is not charity we are talking about. That is the leverage to rewrite the global economic balance.
Pius points to the file.
PIUS XIII
> And these men, these desperate souls, they used a quote. A verse. They quoted me Revelation 3:18 during the transaction with this Mr. Thorne. Do you know it?
FATHER PETER
> (Nodding, fidgeting) > Of course, Your Holiness. It’s the letter to Laodicea. ‘I advise you to buy from me gold refined by fire…’
Pius’s voice drops to a near whisper, completing the passage, his tone a mix of cynicism and profound understanding.
PIUS XIII
> “I advise you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich, and white clothes so that you may dress yourself and the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed, and eye salve to spread on your eyes so that you may see.”
He holds up the dull grey metal nugget that was enclosed in the file, caught between his thumb and forefinger.
PIUS XIII
> Gold refined by fire. Iridium, Father. It is the gold refined by fire. A metal born of supernovae. They are selling the physical manifestation of heavenly wealth, and we are buying it, pretending we are only concerned with the market price.
He lets the nugget drop onto the thick leather blotter with a soft thud.
PIUS XIII
> They are not selling us iridium, Father Peter. They are selling us their faith in our ability to convert their sacrifice into salvation.
Pius closes the file with a definitive snap.
PIUS XIII
> We will complete the transaction. But we must give them the white clothes, and the eye salve, too. The shame of their nakedness is the poverty that forces them to sell their birthright.
Pius turns, pacing again, hands clasped.
PIUS XIII
> The white clothes will be bales of the finest, most durable linen, Father. And the eye salve—the simple, pure honey eye drops. They must literally see what they possess.
Father Peter clears his throat, gaining a sudden, uncharacteristic resolve.
FATHER PETER
> Your Holiness, with respect, seeing is secondary to surviving. The immediate need is the shame of hunger. The simplest purification of this $45 billion is to feed them, to stop the starvation that blinds them entirely.
Pius pauses, intrigued by the priest’s fire.
FATHER PETER
> I propose we use a substantial portion of the iridium proceeds—not for perpetual charity funds—but for a massive, immediate humanitarian effort. And who better to manage the logistics of feeding a nation than the most efficient, most demanding palate we know?
Pius’s eyes widen slightly.
PIUS XIII
> You speak of Chef Gordon Ramsay? My personal chef?
FATHER PETER
> The same, Your Holiness. He has resources, organization, and a righteous temper that could cut through any bureaucratic red tape in Port-au-Prince. He can ensure every hungry mouth is fed with dignity and speed. The Iridium money buys the food; Chef Ramsay ensures it is cooked and served. This is the true purification by fire!
A slow, wry smile finally spreads across the Pope’s face.
PIUS XIII
> The linen, the honey, and the Michelin-starred wrath of God brought down upon hunger. It is unorthodox, Father Peter. Brilliant. See to it. And tell the Chef to pack his best set of knives. The Vatican is underwriting the greatest, most ambitious kitchen in history.
To Our Dearest Children, the Light of the World and the Hope of the Church,
I address you today with a heart heavy with sorrow, yet burning with the fierce love of a shepherd for his flock. It is a necessary truth that must be spoken: I tell my flock of children that a terrifying reality exists—one in four children are abused at school, on sports teams, or within the very walls of our Church.
This is a moral offense against God and a failure of the sacred trust placed in us. Silence is the abuser’s greatest weapon, but truth is the defense of the innocent.
Therefore, I command you: If you are being abused, you must confess immediately to Father Peter, even if the abuser threatens you with the direst of consequences.
Father Peter is a man of integrity chosen for his unwavering commitment to your salvation and protection. He will hear the truth, and he will act to shield you. No secret, no threat, and no fear is greater than the protection of your soul and your body. Do not let the abuser’s threats keep you from telling the truth.
Come forward. Speak the truth. You are safe in the arms of the Church.
In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.Amen.
