Chapter 2: Master of the Melchizedek Order

Four years ago, in Liberty Bell Park on Philadelphia-Saturno, a replica of the reformed original park from the renewed Earth, Gretchen had met the 27-year-old poet A. René Swift. She, a young woman caught between her father's expectations, the Minister of Intelligence of Saturn, and her own yearning for poetry, was captivated by René’s figure. He, oblivious to the crowd around him, read a printed book, a rarity in this digital age. His serene presence and deep concentration impressed her, leaving a mark on her spirit.

Gretchen, who was studying law at Temple University as per her father's wishes, was internally conflicted. While her father, a man of rigid discipline under the tyrant Petrovsky, pressured her to become a key piece of the regime, she dreamed of the freedom that only poetry could offer her. That morning, upon learning that A. René Swift would be giving a recital at the Philadelphia S Art Museum, she decided to skip classes, defying her father's expectations, to immerse herself in the words of this mysterious man.

René Swift, known for avoiding social media and refusing interviews, had gained notoriety for his writings filled with mysticism. In his books, he spoke of a spiritual world transcending traditional religions and proposed that even atheism was, in essence, a religion, based on the common good or humanity as a moral axis. When once asked if he considered Satanism or Lucifer-worshiping sects as religions, René responded that such beliefs were destined for failure because they denied the fundamental qualities of love, forgiveness, and goodness, which would always prevail over envy, greed, and cruelty.

That day at the recital, as Gretchen immersed herself in René’s words, she felt the chains of her academic and familial life begin to loosen, if only for a brief moment.

Alone in the Crowd

Directionless, I long for the peacewhere we shall surrender;a mute echo in the bustle we are;where are you?

My beloved is also a dim flareby the waves of an invisible sea,my shadow and my hidden star;where are you?

The crowd passes with its cold gazes,and I still do not find you, calm island,joint storm, my beloved;where are you?

After the recital, Gretchen joined the throng of admirers swarming around René Swift, eager to shake the poet's hand. Unusually, René caught her gaze among the crowd and, with a melancholic smile, approached her. At that moment, something in the serenity and depth of his eyes resonated with Gretchen's rebellious essence. It was a brief moment, but enough for both to feel an unexpected connection, as if Cupid’s arrows had struck them.

Intrigued by the mix of nostalgia and wisdom emanating from René, Gretchen asked him some questions about his life. His answers, though concise, were frank and carried an honesty that only heightened her fascination. Encouraged by this trust, she dared to inquire about the mystery of his youth. René responded with an enigmatic smile:

"I am 57 years old in my documents, though I am actually 28."

Gretchen smiled, thinking it was a typographical error René had chosen not to correct, enjoying the peculiarity it conferred. It was like a bill or coin with a defect that, in numística, instead of devaluing, becomes a cherished eccentricity for collectors.

They walked through the streets of Philadelphia-Saturno, unaware that they were entering blocks dominated by the dangerous peace gangs, groups to which Petrovsky's regime had handed control to keep the planet's criminals at bay. Amidst the uncertainty, René looked at Gretchen with a depth that unsettled her.

"You are beautiful," René said as their eyes met.

"You tell that to all your admirers," Gretchen replied with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

"No," René answered calmly, "and I always speak the truth."

"For what purpose? Lying is often necessary," Gretchen remarked, reflecting the cynicism around her.

"Let’s say that, like Bishop Saint Thomas Becket, who surprised the medieval world by always telling the truth, I am a man dedicated to the divine, which for most is goodness, and for me, it is God."

Gretchen couldn’t help but pause at the mention of Saint Thomas Becket, a name that felt vaguely familiar but was laden with significant history. René, sensing her curiosity, smiled with the same melancholy that seemed to be part of his essence.

"Becket was a man of contradictions," René continued, his words flowing with the cadence of someone reciting a poem. "He was close to King Henry II of England, until he chose to place his loyalty to God above his friendship with the monarch. That decision led to his death, but it also made him a symbol of integrity and truth, someone willing to face any consequence for staying true to his principles."

Gretchen looked at him, intrigued by the conviction in his voice. "And do you see yourself as such, a man willing to face anything for the truth?"

René nodded slowly. "Truth is the only thing that connects us to the divine, to that universal goodness that is God. In a world where everything can be distorted, where lies become commonplace, being true to the truth is an act of rebellion and faith."

"But in such a skeptical and atheistic universe, where does God fit?" Gretchen asked, with a mix of challenge and genuine curiosity.

"God doesn’t need to fit," René replied softly. "Atheism, in many ways, is another form of religion. It’s based on principles that transcend individuality, on belief in the common good, in humanity. But what many atheists don’t see is that goodness, love, is a manifestation of divine love, even if it’s not called that. It’s like a flame within each being that, although denied or ignored, continues to burn, continues to guide."

Gretchen was silent for a moment, contemplating René’s words. She had never heard of atheism as a form of religion before, but there was something in his explanation that resonated deeply with her, as if a forgotten part of her being was awakening.

"So, according to you, we’re all searching for the same thing, whether we call it God or not," she said finally, trying to make sense of her thoughts.

"Exactly," René responded. "We’re all searching for truth, goodness, love. And in that sense, we are all, consciously or unconsciously, searching for God. The difference is how we choose to name it or if we choose to name it at all."

René’s words seemed to be dictated by the same creator, manifest in that simple conversation. It was as if each phrase was imbued with a universal truth that transcended the limitations of language and human understanding.

"I was always taught to worship God, to honor Him with rituals, to proclaim His wonders," Gretchen said. "But in the end, I grew tired of seeing that many who worshipped the most were bad people in their personal lives. The more they sinned, the more they worshipped altars and images, as if justifying their actions."

René nodded slowly. "Those rituals are important for those who seek self-improvement. They offer a framework for devotion, a path to approach the divine. But for those who recognize God in their actions and their love, those rituals are unnecessary. They’re like the shell that the chrysalis leaves behind once the caterpillar becomes a butterfly. The essence of the transformation is not in the shell, but in the metamorphosis itself."

Gretchen looked at him, trying to grasp the deep meaning of his words. The image of the chrysalis leaving its shell resonated with her, evoking a sense of liberation and renewal. René, with his deep and serene gaze, seemed to embody that transformation, as if he had left behind the restrictions of the material world to embrace a higher truth.

"So what you’re saying is that true acts of devotion don’t require external rituals, but rather an internal transformation?" Gretchen asked, trying to integrate her thoughts.

"Exactly," René said. "True devotion is manifested in our actions, in how we treat others, in the way we live. Rituals can reflect that devotion, but they are not the essence. The essence is the love and goodness we carry in our hearts that drives us to act with justice and compassion."

Gretchen nodded slowly, feeling a mix of awe and peace. René’s words offered a new perspective on faith and devotion, challenging her previous beliefs and opening a door to a deeper understanding. At that moment, walking with René through the streets of Philadelphia-Saturno, she felt she was on the brink of a personal discovery, a revelation that could change her life forever. René was not just a poet; he was a teacher sent to enlighten her in the darkness enveloping humanity.

Their idyllic meeting was interrupted by the arrival of five men with disturbing intentions. They were peacekeepers, illegal immigrants from the impoverished Earth, drug and liquor addicts in a world that rejected them for their backwardness and poverty.

"Nobody stops to talk in this park," said a blonde man with curly hair as he brandished a knife. "This is our territory, and you have to pay a toll."

"How much do you want?" Gretchen asked, trying to stay calm while watching the men with concern. "My father is a powerful man, you know?"

"Too late," said another man with a ruby-studded patch over one eye. "We’re going to crucify you."

The man with the ruby suddenly suffered a respiratory attack, collapsing to the ground as his four companions looked on in stunned silence. They, retreating in terror, fell backward, unable to control their limbs, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

René crouched beside the one-eyed man, his face purple from suffocation. With unsettling calm, he took his face in his hands and pressed his temples with firm yet gentle fingers.

"I forgive you," René said in a serene voice.

The one-eyed man took a deep breath, as if coming back to life. Tears streamed down his face as he staggered to his feet, and with his companions limping beside him, they ran off, leaving behind a trail of disorder and terror.

"You’ve left them crippled!" Gretchen exclaimed, looking at René with a mix of gratitude and amazement.

"It’s not wise to attack good men," René replied with a calm that belied the tension of the moment. "I also studied acupuncture in Shanghai."

"You know our nerve points precisely…" Gretchen observed René, feeling she had found someone special in him, someone willing to risk his life to protect her. His skills and compassion intertwined, and at that moment, she understood that René was much more than a poet: he was a protector, a man whose presence offered not only comfort but also hope, someone who would be willing to invoke heavenly forces to protect her.

That night, after dining in a restaurant in the tallest tower of Philadelphia-Saturno, René took Gretchen to his apartment, located on the 34th floor of the Xanadu complex.

In the warm twilight of a terrace illuminated by the soft lights of Saturn’s moons, René and Gretchen shared a conversation that seemed charged with cosmic secrets. The view of the starry sky, dotted with moons and planets, provided a magical backdrop for their meeting.

"What do you live on?" Gretchen asked, her curiosity clearly overflowing.

René, with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the very essence of the universe, responded: “I am a master of the Melchizedek Order, and I am here to give poetry recitals on all the planets in the solar system.” His tone was grave, imbued with a wisdom that made Gretchen feel she was in the presence of a man who knew the very mysteries of life.

The connection between them was instant. At that moment, under the star-strewn cloak and the ethereal light of the moons, their lips met in a kiss that ignited a spark of passion. The night became a canvas of desire and tenderness, and they surrendered to a dance of love that lasted until dawn. Hours melted away in a whirlwind of caresses and whispers, and the experience turned into a celebration of their feelings.

By abandoning her academic responsibilities, Gretchen fully immersed herself in that love. The allure of the moment led her to ignore the duties of her semester at the Law School, and for three days she prolonged that encounter, embracing the new and fiery romance with René.

Over the course of two months, the relationship flourished. Gretchen, swept away by the intensity of her love, made a significant decision: she left her university residence to move in with René. Life in their new home was filled with promises and shared dreams. Their apartment, overlooking the breathtaking landscapes of Saturn, became a refuge of passion and creativity. The days were marked by reading poems, metaphysical conversations, and creating a shared world that seemed like a microcosm of their love.

However, the perfection of this world began to falter with René's unexpected absences.

"Never ask me to call you," he had warned her. "I am a writer, and my medium is writing."

Gretchen then feared that René might be a married man with children in another corner of the galaxy, but his frank smile dispelled her initial doubts. Over the next three years, René would often disappear from Saturn for one or two months, leaving her alone and bewildered. Although René had been honest about his income as a freelance writer, with a dozen books of poetry he published, the explanations and his reluctance to call her did not calm Gretchen's concerns.

Every time René left, the home fell into a palpable void. Gretchen, with her legal training and a keen eye for detail, began to notice patterns in his absences. Her days were filled with an anxious countdown to his return as she clung to the letters and messages René sent from distant places. As the absences repeated, fear and distrust began to build walls between them, eroding the serenity that had once characterized their love.

"Another man once broke my heart," Gretchen said one evening by the Schuylkill River. "If I find out that you do the same, I am capable of killing you."

"Why kill someone when we all have to die?" was René's enigmatic comment.

Gretchen's growing distrust began to manifest in small arguments. During a dinner that passed in tense silence, Gretchen finally dared to express her feelings:

"René, why do you have to leave so often? What are you really doing on those trips? Why does it always seem like something is calling you away from Saturn?"

"I work for the Creator," was his explanation. "Or, if you prefer in psychological terms, for my own conscience, and I follow the impulses of my intuitions and dreams. I travel to all places on the planet, and wherever I go, I bestow my blessings in silence."

"Are you a prophet?"

"Yes. I have told you several times."

But Gretchen was not convinced. The idea that his travels were merely professional did not quell the doubts accumulating in her mind. She began to investigate more thoroughly, searching for clues in the documents René left behind and in the notes of his books. The temporary separation became a fertile ground for distrust and suspicion.

The tension between them grew with each of René's absences, and the question that had once been mere curiosity turned into a troubling concern. Was René truly dedicated to his poetic career, or was there something more he was hiding in his frequent and prolonged absences? Gretchen grappled with the love she felt for him and the growing shadow of doubt threatening to darken their relationship.

"What blessings?"

"Heals the sick, calms droughts, provides guidance, and corrects those who lean towards falsehood."

"Is that legal?"

"You wouldn't understand," René said, stroking her hair. "Suffice it to say that if you work diligently every day, especially for others, the universe provides you with everything you need."

"What do you think of Agamemnon Petrovsky?"

"He is a man who will fall under the weight of his own ambition."

His absence from social media annoyed her. She knew her father had many enemies, and she began to fear, due to her rejection of Petrovsky's neosocialist policies, that she might be used by a foreign spy for political purposes. Uncertainty, jealousy, and anxiety began to cloud the love Gretchen felt for René, and her growing distrust bore fruit when Gretchen lost hope that her love for René could overcome any obstacle.

One November afternoon, Gretchen had an accident in the kitchen and suffered a fracture in one of her thumbs. René did not respond to her persistent calls for several hours. Gretchen called Engineer Witberg, her father, to tell him about her troubles. After hearing about her mysterious battle with five bandits in South Philadelphia, he immediately contacted the police of his intelligence network.

"I promise to find out the secret life of that man," he consoled her.