They saw her on the occasional weekend, then over time weekends at the convent became a few daytime hours. Vera’s bed seemed so large that Benedita piled things on it in order not to see it. After a few months the Mother Superior decided to intervene in order to help her overcome Vera’s absence. One afternoon, when Benedita had come back from the vegetable garden, she took her by the hand and led her to the first floor. On opening the door of her old room, a jug with daisies from the garden and a card were there waiting for her. ‘Sister, we miss you. These corridors are lifeless without your presence.’ Once Benedita returned to her old room everything seemed more natural and spontaneous. Memories became less painful with Benedita once again sharing with them their same routine. The nuns even seemed to forget that Vera had once been in their care. As if she were an enchanted princess, they became used to the idea that, by the same magic with which she had appeared in their lives, she had now vanished. They were left with a sweet aftertaste and a smile brought on by the rare occasions when news of her reached them.
PART IV
Vera and Galo did not celebrate anniversaries or remember dates. They lived one day at a time with the same lightheartedness that fuelled their dreams of other places and other people. It had been almost eleven years since they had moved in together. It had not been difficult to make the transition from childhood to adolescence and thence to maturity. Like so many others, they had finished their technology studies, at which they excelled, Vera as an expert programmer specialising in digital games, Galo as a lecturer in support technology. She was the software and he was the hardware they joked between themselves. There was a greater difference that nobody knew and that was their secret. Whilst the rest of humanity switched on their consoles after work, they switched off and got ready for the next day. Every morning the world was transformed into whatever they wanted of it. They would set out at dawn in search of places uninhabited by technology; natural oases with no turbines, panels, sensors, geothermal systems, storage plants, micro-reactors or processors. For them the most beautiful place was a sanctuary where no other sound could be heard that was not natural to the surroundings. Vera and Galo. Their names were not on the long waiting lists to visit nature reserves established as huge gardens. There what was natural did not form part of nature. Wildlife had also been organised to maximise its procreation and equilibrium among species. Visits were guided and time and space limited. From watering systems, module-based food chain or wildlife and floral zones, nothing was left to nature. Reserves were an operating theatre for the care of animal and vegetable species. From the ground ready for sowing to the so-called ‘green fields’, destined for green technology, they were perfect, unblemished zones. Vera and Galo wandered free, in the few areas they found which were not involved in the extraordinary organisation of life. Forbidden places where nobody wanted to venture in or dared do so. It was a shared adventure to feel part of the beginning of time.
Vera and Galo lived in a near perfect world planned for success. It was said that mankind had never before been as free. With whole populations travelling towards new possibilities, there was extraordinary mobility. The news no longer centred on biofuels or competition between foodstuffs and hydrocarbons. Reporting nowadays was about changes in the market for digital games. Everybody signed up to work for the saviour industry. Marketing science was taught in all schools. The most solid foundation. The only one. Games were there to fill time. Distraction was an essential tool in the organization of life, its value proven across the centuries. For the Roman poor, the circus had offered consolation against hunger and disease, a ploy for a more bearable life. In front of the computer the feeling of well-being depended on games and their processed reality to permeate the senses. The entertainment-based economy had been the new spring for the final jump. The few who saw it as a jump into the void lived on the edges. The new, inclusive and fair environmental, social and labour laws had invalidated activists’ arguments against the new order. Paralysing conformism had turned into indifference. The critical analysis of the past had melted in the political cauldron of the market. Hard facts were the only ones worthy of comment. Efficiency and productivity were the end point in the search for truth.
As the Vatican’s financial investor, Zillo had rarely worn a cassock. If it had not been conducive to business before the cataclysm, afterwards it was actually counterproductive. Seeing him sitting with a group in the Budbar nobody would suspect that the man, who looked like a City high-flyer, was as devout as any other priest devoted to less mundane tasks. Zillo knew very well the world of business and its stereotypes. That was why he could often be seen with a glass in hand, although he never drank a drop of alcohol. Every year he would gather a few business friends together in his favourite bar to invite them to the Vatican for his birthday. It was essential that he lived in the city of investment. He travelled the world in a private jet at his disposal. Twice a week he flew to the Vatican to propose or report on investments, their potential or their results. Not even the huge losses suffered in the financial debacle managed to weaken his position. The trust the Vatican had in him was unshakable. When donations dried up and the choice was between keeping the hundreds of thousands of churches, parishes and convents all over the world burning the Vatican’s riches, or closing them down, it was Zillo who had the vision to give the Vatican the cybernetic push it needed. Vatican Software Inc. was the first cyber company linked to a religious body. Once the World Church had granted authorisation and created the regulations to restrict it, all the others followed suit. It was a case of adapt or die. His task was not only to create a new world of games for those with eyes on the Vatican, but also to recruit new members. Although Zillo thought of them as parishioners, they were more like followers or voters. The difficulty was not in finding an ally, he had one. Zillo’s greatest challenge was showing dissent against the decision of the Vatican council to hire the most renowned games creator in the industry. They did not realise the foolishness of their plans to invite someone from outside the community. Although opposed to his ideas, the council listened to him attentively.
‘We cannot risk knowledge of the code being in the hands of an outsider, however brilliant they are. Without total commitment there is no loyalty.’
‘Without quality, there is no preponderance,’ was the favoured cardinal’s reply.
‘I can guarantee both’ Zillo was putting his career on the line.
It was above all a profound faith that inspired him, with no fear or compromise. The Pope’s vote of confidence was the first step in putting total control in his hands. Any doubts were dispelled by immediate sales results and customer devotion to the many games created. Zillo had forged a solid alliance headed by Carda, his protégé. The king of games was not long in arriving. Vatican World I was more than a resounding success. The Vatican’s coffers filled once more and the Church once again became a key player.
‘I’m too old for travelling and partying,’ Zillo had said to Carda when he placed him at the head of the development division. ‘No other investment could reverse our falling income. The cataclysm was our coup de grâce. In fact, the first World Government was. If it had been up to them, no temple would have been left standing. It will be my best investment. We’re not allowed to spread the creed, but nobody can prevent us from advertising our products. This is our chance to change course to something more in agreement with the laws of the universe.’
Carda was still awaiting his opportunity, after Zillo had broadened the Vatican’s business interests by entering the games market. He had been one of the first graduates of the Vatican’s IT Academy. He had a set expression which Zillo knew well. He was also aware of Carda’s exceptional talent. He had been leader of the development team. The designer’s ideas were kept secret until the last minute. The code was spread among a handful of programmers so as to keep from them the overall design of the final product until its launch. Industrial espionage among software companies was commonplace but very hard to prove due t
o the hundreds of thousands of products trying to imitate each other and win new fans. The race to innovate was unstoppable, its function not so much a notion of progress as control of the market. Like a snowball, innovation would gather together whatever it needed in order to grow. It would flatten everything in its path.
When Zillo called Carda many years later, he was not expecting it. Things had changed. After the remarkable success of Vatican World I and the development of many other peripheral games, to Zillo’s disappointment, Carda had requested a transfer to the research department.
He could hardly remember the last time he had been asked to meet Zillo in the Budbar. Carda knew very well how to hide his nervousness. There he was again, listening to Zillo’s ‘homilies’ as he called them.
‘To be in the lead is everything. The World Church doesn’t exist. We are still set against each other, but the World Government won’t admit it. They tell me they’re trivial disputes, that what matters is market leadership, that the Vatican has other important products… blah, blah, blah. They say that but they don’t realise it’s artificial, like everything they’ve created. Religion is the most important spiritual guide and it’s been shoved into a corner. They’re worse than gamblers. They play for high stakes. Until they lose everything. A chain of ups and downs. They think the world is a casino where you can gamble your future. With no meaning, no knowledge, no philosophy. There is no poetry. It’s all politics and business. They only see regulations for production and well-being. People merely as producers and consumers.’
‘I see you’ve dusted down your cassock.’
‘A sign of the times. Who knows whether good or bad. Profound transformations should be instigated by profound processes.’
‘I suppose you have something important to tell me.’
Carda’s harshness gave Zillo the answer he had been hoping for. He had not changed. He could trust him.
‘I have a meeting with the Council. I’m going to nominate you for our most ambitious project yet. It’s not simply another version of the game. It’s not just about gaining a prominent position once more, but beating every sales record. Not only among our products, but any products. I want to put you in charge. Are you ready for that?’
He had been mistaken. His chance had come at last.
‘Of course I am.’
While sitting in the waiting room Vera could already see Father Zillo on the screen next to the electoral candidate. Galo had pointed him out to her:
‘Yes, that’s him. His hair’s gone white.’
‘I told you so.’
‘He’ll be in Development.’
‘He’s back. They probably want to launch something bigger.’
When the presidential candidate disengaged himself from Father Zillo’s arm, waving his hands to thousands of followers, their voices could still be heard as they unclipped the microphones from their lapels. The technician was turning off the lights on the blue screen which had been overlaid with the image of thousands of voters with banners displaying the names of the companies and their candidates. The political message was broadcast instantaneously and live from the office. Reproducing well-attended rallies with only two or three politicians appearing live was routine to Zillo. The appropriate background varied according to the time of year. When the door opened and Zillo saw Vera come in, the technician was rolling up the blue screen.
‘My dear. It’s lovely to see you.’ With a gesture the priest turned impatiently. ‘Roch, leave that for now.’
The technician left the office and closed the door.
‘I won’t hold it against you if you don’t remember me. Who’s going to remember a bad-tempered old man! Just seeing you has brightened up my day. Your work has been impeccable. It’s time to give you a responsibility worthy of your maturity and talent. You’ll be working with an excellent team. I’m in charge so we’ll be near each other.’
He again squeezed her hands. He looked at her with his eyes opened wide and eyebrows raised, adding a redundant emphasis to his words.
‘It’s the new version of Vatican World,’ he told her.
Vera was well aware of the importance of the company’s top game. Zillo went to his desk and pressed one of the buttons on the panel to his left.
‘Is he here yet?’
‘He’s just arrived, Father. I’ll show him in.’ The voice sounded as if it came from the roof, filling every space of the ample room.
‘Come.’ Zillo took Vera’s arm and led her to the back of the office.
On the other side of the panelled window there were rows and rows of terminals with hundreds of IT operators. Father Zillo had a panoramic view of the vast processing room from above, whilst the operators could only see the news and instructions projected onto their side of the giant multi-faceted window panes.
‘Impressive, isn’t it? This is where Vatican World has been developing. At first the programmers were also on this floor. Now they work behind closed doors. That’s where you’ll be. What you see below is only the service staff. The corridor separates the support staff from the online update staff.’
The sound of footsteps behind her did not distract Vera from the image of that sea of heads which, were it not for the screens in front of them, would not glow at all.
‘Another great talent. Felix, do come in.’
Carda and Zillo met in the middle of the room. Vera had still not torn her eyes away from the expressionless faces below. When the priest embraced Carda effusively, he received little response.
‘Welcome. It’s been approved. It will be a pleasure to work with you again.’
Carda’s silence did not bother Zillo.
‘Vera, my dear. Come. Mr Carda will be your new boss. He has been the soul of Vatican World, its designer. I prefer to say its father. But many would accuse me of being mawkish. Now he’s the new Director of Development for the latest version. For the sake of security, part of the code will be written in our office in New York to be compiled at Headquarters. The rest is in your hands, Felix. Just as before. Vera has worked on our less prestigious products in the annex offices. It’s time she was given more responsibility. The importance of confidentiality at this particular time goes without saying. The competition is relentless. The last version of Islamic World sold more than our game thanks to its “surprise option”.’
Vera could not guess whether Carda’s set expression had more to do with efficiency and responsibility than annoyance.
‘Each level has a “surprise option”,’ he explained, ‘which can be activated a maximum of five times a day and creates a special expectation. A dependence on the game as never before. The surprises are different each time, truly unique.’
‘Well,’ Father Zillo interrupted him with a smile. ‘Our Cf version of Vatican World is designed to win over the market. And that’s what will happen.’ He tried to soften Carda’s furrowed brow by slapping him on the back.
‘Otherwise we’ll lose the party’s approval,’ added Carda, his face impassive.
It was not that the new world order had achieved a newborn awareness. As though a universal epiphany lit up the path to understanding the world in a new way. The digital age was the new industrial age. Wars were a thing of the past but images of violence and death were still present. Aggression, far from being an option in the real world, would take shape in the virtual world. Like a reminder of the danger, they said. Ideas had not changed. Death on a global scale had not managed to sweep away the notions that had given rise to it. Events made into entertainment dissociated violence from the events themselves. Battles, deaths, mutilations, destruction. The digital universe inside a perfect box. ‘It must exert a more powerful attraction than perfume,’ was Zillo’s instruction to the designer. The product was the distillation of a perfect perfume in an attractive box. Games above life. People had nothing to say, their lips kept sealed by the creation of other lives, independent, free, exciting, rebellious and even criminal. The lives of the avatars.
The pop
ulation was a huge, insatiable customer sitting at the edge of an increasingly unsuspected universe. In peace the world was the promised land where poverty had been replaced by the consumption of devices for distraction and entertainment; the long-awaited new version. Each product was endlessly transformed. Technology had saved humanity. Everything could be bought, sold or rented: products, companies, technology, organs, services, blood, labour, sperm, sex, wombs, leisure, genes, politicians, alliances. Like an oiled machine, neo-democracy worked automatically with the control of the World Bank and brand-name companies. Politicians were their faces. At the least sign of conflict, the financier/producer State implemented mechanisms of world security and legislation. The press, politicians, the clergy, rulers, all their servants. There were no conflicts of interest because they shared a common interest: the avoidance of conflict.
The new world was started with a clean slate. Vera and Galo had already learned things differently. History seemed to be covered with a filtering veil. Books from the past talked about things nobody read about. Books had been summarised on digital plates. Texts from the past were no longer comprehensible. Paper books were kept as valuable items like platonic objects of which only their shadows are seen. The digital shadows of distinguished volumes condensed their stories to turn them into outlines. Several of the long narratives which expounded on past life were reduced to some ten pages of script and made into games. Crime and Punishment, The Odyssey, Alice in Wonderland, Macbeth, The Divine Comedy, Gulliver’s Travels, Paradise Lost, Hamlet, The Iliad, The Thousand and One Nights, Don Quixote de la Mancha, Great Expectations and hundreds of others provided the action for absorbing games. Not in terms of their content but in their visual capacity for a plot full of exploits. The desire to know and understand had been displaced by the desire to play. Knowledge beyond technology or science had gone from being dangerous to being useless.
The Vatican Games Page 9