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A Scarlet Cross

Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
2,830
Location
Lisbon, Portugal
Castelo Negro, Marca, People’s Republic of Lusitania

Castelo Negro, meaning ‘dark castle’ in Portuguese, was the capital and the biggest city of the PRL province of Marca, the most inhospitable place in the whole country. Its distance from the sea and the fact it was surrounded by several high mountains made the whole place dry and with extreme temperatures. It looked almost like a desert, except maybe for the sand. It was a wasteland with little vegetation or agriculture, always dependent on the rest of the country for food. In Castelo Negro, the dark castle overlooked a brawl of white houses in which poverty was day-to-day. And communism did not help the people of Marca, nor it did for Translima and Alzamal (the other PRL provinces). The planned economy and the land reform, did with little precise criteria, were a fatal blow in the PRL’s already feeble economy.

In this winter afternoon, no people could be found in the impoverished streets of Castelo Negro, save for some people looking cautiously around before entering a small basement. They were entering one of the many clandestine churches in the People’s Republic, since public religious ceremonies were banned by the officially atheist state. Upon entering the small doors for clandestine churches, the two aforementioned people, went down some dark stairs into an old wine basement, filled with moisture and a small scent of alcohol. The priest was alone in the improvised church, that held a simple crucifix in the wall and simple ceremonial objects.

“Good afternoon, are you Father Roberto Palma?”

The distracted old priest jumped in fear. Two men, dressed in long black coats, out of the usual hours of service? It was the COPCON, the regime’s secret police, for sure. They had come for him.

“I’m special agent Ricardo Falcão, from the COPCON. I’d like to have a little word with you.”

The priest, trembling in fear, took Falcão to his little office. As his colleague started to follow him, Falcão said:

“Stay here please. This is a secret government affair.”


Both entered the small and poorly-decorated office. Priest Palma, trembling with fear, sat down.

“Father, I am no ordinary COPCON agent. I’m the General-Director, and I’ve come here upon personal request of Comrade Gonçalo Vasques, discussing a top issue in the People’s Republic – the rehabilitation of the Church in the People’s Republic.”

“But, Sir, we are procescuted and our churches are burned down by the Government…”

“Not anymore Father… Me and other important people in the PCP have managed to persuade Comrade Vasques to understand, even leading him to, in the future, become a born-again Christian… He understood that the absence of religion and sense of tradition in the People’s Republic is harmful for the material development of the workers and the peasants.”

“But I’m a simple priest. Why are you talking to me?”

“Oh, you’re no simple priest. The COPCON has agents infiltrated all over this clandestine church network. We’ve been monitorizing yours for a while. And you were, as a young seminarist, an apologist of the Theology of Liberation, which conciles the message of Marx and the message of Christ. Unfourtunally, you were arrested by the integralist regime, but had your sentence commuted, and you were sent to this dreadful place. For years, you’ve hidden your opinions, but after the Revolution, you’ve openly admitted, before your parishioners, that the Holy Text and the writings of Marx are compatible and complete each other… I myself, despite not admitting, am a follower of that stance. And now, the People’s Republic needs a new impulse… Not a material one, but a spiritual one, that stresses the importance of the collectivity, the flock of Christ, rather than materialism, that despite being written by Marx, leads to greed and individualism.”

“I agree with you Sir, but, why have you…”

“You will go with me to Beja, meet with Comrade Vasques and other likeminded priests.”

“But,my parishioners…”

“Do you want to see the Church powerful again? And most of all, do you want to be in the vanguard of a new Church?”

“Well… I…”

“Don’t be falsely humble. I know you do. I read your articles of the 60’s, your speeches. You were inflammatory, you were terrific, a natural orator, a natural leader and one of the best Bible scholars I’ve ever seen. Are you up to the challenge? I’ll be out there waiting…”


Five minutes after Falcão left the room, Palma showed up, with a big smile on his face:

“Let’s do this.”
 
Joined
Oct 30, 2006
Messages
2,830
Location
Lisbon, Portugal
Palace of the People, Beja, People’s Republic of Lusitania

“Comrade Falcão, welcome.”

In a dusty office sat a slightly fat man, with grey hair and long ears. Dressed in military attire, though not a military officer of any sort, there was Gonçalo Vasques, the ‘Leader of the Lusitanian Revolution’ and the ‘People’s Wall of Steel’. This last nickname derived from a song: “Força Camarada Vasques, nós somos a tua muralha de aço” (Go Camarada Vasques, we are your wall of steel), popular during the days of the Revolution.

Ricardo Falcão, tall, light-brown hair and green-eyed, was not like the ordinary Lusitanian. But his cold, germanic look made his appearance respectable and many in the COPCON were fearful of him. He was effectively the second most powerful man in the PRL after Vasques.

“Comrade Vasques, it is always a pleasure to see you”

“Sit down please…”

“I have a visit. Father, come here.”


Father Palma entered cautiously in Vasques’ office, decorated with propaganda posters from countries like Carentania, Kryobaijan, etc. In his bookshelf lied the essentials: the Capital, the Manifesto, the Origin of Property, Family and State, Dialectic Materialism, etc. He was a little frightened. It remembered him of his old days as a theologian of liberation – all those books and the Bible.

Vasques was a little hostile towards the priest, but he needed him. He needed to remake the Catholic Church in the PRL to gain more popular support. The people were discontent, and the Revolution would have to made in another way. Before Palma presented himself, Vasques started to talk:

“I know who you are. In the 60’s you were quite an agitator” Vasques smiled “But the fascists got you and sent you to that shithole in Marca, right?”

“Unfortunately”

“But now here you are. I confess I was a little skeptical at the beginning, since it was all Comrade Falcão’s idea. But now I see. I read your books, I read “The Kingdom of God, Now!”, and “Christianity and Socialism”,
“Christ the First Socialist”. I thought then you were wrong, but now I understand – the perfect combination for this conservative people is a Christian socialism. “

“I don’t see it necessarily that way, like a means to maintain yourself in power. It is a strong idea, Christ’s ideas of brotherhood and solidarity, totally antagonistic to capitalism…”

“I thought that age had made you understand that there are no ideas, only power, Father. And if you want an opportunity to seize some power, it is now.”

“Yes, it is now. Not for power’s sake of course, but for the ideal I’ve been fighting for…”

“Ok. But here is the deal: you will elaborate a text with a simple compilation of your ideas, and I will deal with the rest – political loyalties, congresses, etc. Understood?”

“Yes…”
said Palma while mentally despising his new superior. An amoral, power-driven monster. At least Falcão had some coherence in his speech.

“You may go now Father. Me and Comrade Falcão have some serious business to attend to… Goodbye and amen” said Vasques mockingly.

As Father Palma walked out, Vasques immediately asked Falcão

“Well, you said you had something urgent to tell me…”

“Yes Comrade… I’ve collected evidence that a plot on your life is being planned by lower-party officials… It is highly unlikely that it should ever come to be, but, what of our Republic if it does? What will happen to the Revolution?”

“I’ve made provisions for that…”
said Vasques while he put his hand upon Falcão’s shoulder “You will preside to the Committee that will make sure no reactionary, no revisionist will ever seize power. Put the Revolution in the hands of who we trust…” Saying that, Vasques asked Falcão for a glass of whiskey. Falcão, knowing Vasques well, had already prepared this small event, and while pouring a bit of whiskey in Vasques’ glass, he dropped a small pill of arsenic in it.

“So tell me, who are those fucking bastards?”

As he said that after drinking a sip of whiskey, he fell on the floor unconscious. Falcão smiled: “Goodbye filho da puta” (motherfucker).
 
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