You sure weren't expecting THIS.
Jun. 19th, 2004 07:31 pmI changed directions a little. Well, just read...
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Fifi Canneloni rose. She tied her raven tresses back into her usual scientist bun, replaced her horn-rimmed glasses. Next the lab coat again covered her perfect breasts. Time to go back from pendulous to ponderous. Langdon needed her help now as much as she needed, well, his help a few moments earlier.
"Try looking at this again from a fresh perspective," he said. "We've been turning over clue after clue about the enemies of the Church and the Inquisition, and nobody's taking us seriously. Why?"
Fifi mulled it over. "Because every time we mention it, we get stupid grins and jokes about nobody expecting the Spanish Inquisition and all that stupid Python stuff."
"Exactly," Langdon grinned. The pieces had fallen into place.
"Explain," she said.
"What better way to conceal your hatred for and purpose against an organization than by making obvious fun of it? Look at how universal public perception of the Inquisition is. Everyone thinks they were a bunch of bloodthirsty wackoes. All because three actors dressed up in funny suits and made jokes with cushions and comfy chairs."
"But, ... but... that could just be coincidence!" cried Fifi. She'd been a fan of the comedy almost since in utero. Langdon was expecting quite a stretch from her.
"Oh, there's more," he said. "What has been the biggest scourge of the Church in the electronic age? The thing that's brought down the most priests and bishops?"
Fifi thought a moment. "Child abuse. Much of it..." she paused, as the hint of a hideous thought crossed her well-developed threshold...." much of it online porn."
"My very thought," Langdon agreed. "And what do we call the online dissemination of unwanted obscenity and other material?"
Fifi recoiled in horror. "Spam!"
"Named, a decade or so ago, not for the meatlike product, but for a so-called comedy sketch from 1970 about a couple being forced to order something they really didn't like. Guess what year ARPANET- the direct predecessor of the Internet- was founded in the US?"
Fifi's face fell. "Nineteen seventy," she said. She knew.
Langdon's brow furrowed. "That's only the beginning. Each of their original screenplay movies was a direct attack on the teachings of the Church. Holy Grail, a mockery of what we now know to be its most profound secret. Life of Brian, a devestation of the story of the Savior. Even Meaning of Life, which had to lighten up after the protests of the previous one- what's the song everyone remembers from that one?"
Langdon began to hum the familiar tune already in Fifi's head. "Every sperm is sacred," she half-said, half-sang.
"An absurd humiliation of the Church's position on contraception," Langdon ventured. "How many believers fell from the wayside when presented with this depiction of the holy message?"
Fifi stepped back from the dangerous direction of this theory. So much of what she believed in, and held true and funny, was disappearing before her.
"This could be cause and effect," she speculated. "Perhaps their hatred of church authority flowed from its negative reaction to them."
"I considered that," Langdon admitted. "So let's test that hypothesis by going back to the beginning- before any knowledge of their motives could impurify the sample. Didn't the name of the show and the group always seem a little weird to you?"
"I always thought it was just something silly," Fifi said.
"I don't believe in coincidences," Langdon insisted. " Let's take it one part at a time. Four words- each seemingly innocent and unrelated. What do you think the first word's a corruption of?"
Fifi pondered. "Montgomery, I'd assume."
"Good guess, but no," Langdon said. "Try Mountbatten. The family name of the Protestant English royal patriarchy and a sworn enemy of the Catholics in Ireland. One of them was even murdered in 1979- during the heyday of the group's cinematic run!"
"Impossible," Fifi said.
"Not only possible but consistent with the rest," Langdon countered. "See any religious symbolism in the second word? Start in Genesis if you need a clue."
Fifi's head began to spin. "The serpent. A symbol of original sin. The central premise of Catholic theology." She paused. "And I suppose you'll say the third word- "Flying"- is a reference to angels."
Langdon grinned. "You're one halo ahead of me."
"But how do you fit in the last word? What is more innocent and secular than dancing bears and high wire trapeze artists at a circus? Surely you don't want to stretch THEM into being angels, too."
Langdon's glance was almost one of pity. "You're using the modern genesis of the word, Fifi. In ancient times, "circus" meant any gathering place. In Rome, it meant something- somePLACE- very specific. Here."
The sound of clickety-clacks filled the room as the professor googled a phrase. Satisfied with the results, he let Fifi look at the screen- and looked at her as her eyes widened in amazement:
The first instance of Roman persecution of Christians is during the reign of Nero after a fire at the Circus Maximus.
"Now do you believe?", he asked.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's so much to fathom. Six talented comedians at the heart of an anti-Catholic plot?"
Langdon looked up victoriously. "Six!" he exclaimed! "Precisely!"
Fifi looked confused.
"Think of all the great performing groups of our time. Performers came and went. But THIS group never expanded beyond its original six members. One died after their canon was complete, but never more, never less, while their beliefs were being perpetuated."
Langdon's mind raced to a point he hadn't even considered. "And it gets worse. How many seasons of episodes are there?"
Fifi knew at once and also frowned. "Four. Some reference to the gospels, maybe?"
"Another misconception," he replied triumphantly. "There were four seasons, but the fourth is considered almost apochryphal by many fans. One of the original six left the group and was never seen in those shows. Some consider him a leader of the entire organization."
"So, you're saying..." Fifi began.
Landgon intoned the end. "THREE seasons. SIX performers. Six-six-six."
Even Fifi had to believe now.
Langdon was rolling. "And that sixth member- the one who left after three seasons but returned for the films. What is he best known for by the children of today?"
Fifi pictured him. She felt physically ill to think it.
"A ghost in the Harry Potter films," she admitted.
"Another translation of sacred to profane," Langdon said. "Find him, and I believe we'll find the reason for this renewal of hate against the Inquisition."
On their map of Rome, they saw a familiar reference to "Il Passetto"- the passage that had meant so much to Langdon's original adventure. He looked at it from a new angle. Passetto could mean passage, he knew. But he also construed it to mean,... could it?
A walkway.
A walk.
A SILLY walk.
"We're going to the Vatican," Langdon ordered. "I know where the enemy of the Inquisiton is."
----------
Fifi Canneloni rose. She tied her raven tresses back into her usual scientist bun, replaced her horn-rimmed glasses. Next the lab coat again covered her perfect breasts. Time to go back from pendulous to ponderous. Langdon needed her help now as much as she needed, well, his help a few moments earlier.
"Try looking at this again from a fresh perspective," he said. "We've been turning over clue after clue about the enemies of the Church and the Inquisition, and nobody's taking us seriously. Why?"
Fifi mulled it over. "Because every time we mention it, we get stupid grins and jokes about nobody expecting the Spanish Inquisition and all that stupid Python stuff."
"Exactly," Langdon grinned. The pieces had fallen into place.
"Explain," she said.
"What better way to conceal your hatred for and purpose against an organization than by making obvious fun of it? Look at how universal public perception of the Inquisition is. Everyone thinks they were a bunch of bloodthirsty wackoes. All because three actors dressed up in funny suits and made jokes with cushions and comfy chairs."
"But, ... but... that could just be coincidence!" cried Fifi. She'd been a fan of the comedy almost since in utero. Langdon was expecting quite a stretch from her.
"Oh, there's more," he said. "What has been the biggest scourge of the Church in the electronic age? The thing that's brought down the most priests and bishops?"
Fifi thought a moment. "Child abuse. Much of it..." she paused, as the hint of a hideous thought crossed her well-developed threshold...." much of it online porn."
"My very thought," Langdon agreed. "And what do we call the online dissemination of unwanted obscenity and other material?"
Fifi recoiled in horror. "Spam!"
"Named, a decade or so ago, not for the meatlike product, but for a so-called comedy sketch from 1970 about a couple being forced to order something they really didn't like. Guess what year ARPANET- the direct predecessor of the Internet- was founded in the US?"
Fifi's face fell. "Nineteen seventy," she said. She knew.
Langdon's brow furrowed. "That's only the beginning. Each of their original screenplay movies was a direct attack on the teachings of the Church. Holy Grail, a mockery of what we now know to be its most profound secret. Life of Brian, a devestation of the story of the Savior. Even Meaning of Life, which had to lighten up after the protests of the previous one- what's the song everyone remembers from that one?"
Langdon began to hum the familiar tune already in Fifi's head. "Every sperm is sacred," she half-said, half-sang.
"An absurd humiliation of the Church's position on contraception," Langdon ventured. "How many believers fell from the wayside when presented with this depiction of the holy message?"
Fifi stepped back from the dangerous direction of this theory. So much of what she believed in, and held true and funny, was disappearing before her.
"This could be cause and effect," she speculated. "Perhaps their hatred of church authority flowed from its negative reaction to them."
"I considered that," Langdon admitted. "So let's test that hypothesis by going back to the beginning- before any knowledge of their motives could impurify the sample. Didn't the name of the show and the group always seem a little weird to you?"
"I always thought it was just something silly," Fifi said.
"I don't believe in coincidences," Langdon insisted. " Let's take it one part at a time. Four words- each seemingly innocent and unrelated. What do you think the first word's a corruption of?"
Fifi pondered. "Montgomery, I'd assume."
"Good guess, but no," Langdon said. "Try Mountbatten. The family name of the Protestant English royal patriarchy and a sworn enemy of the Catholics in Ireland. One of them was even murdered in 1979- during the heyday of the group's cinematic run!"
"Impossible," Fifi said.
"Not only possible but consistent with the rest," Langdon countered. "See any religious symbolism in the second word? Start in Genesis if you need a clue."
Fifi's head began to spin. "The serpent. A symbol of original sin. The central premise of Catholic theology." She paused. "And I suppose you'll say the third word- "Flying"- is a reference to angels."
Langdon grinned. "You're one halo ahead of me."
"But how do you fit in the last word? What is more innocent and secular than dancing bears and high wire trapeze artists at a circus? Surely you don't want to stretch THEM into being angels, too."
Langdon's glance was almost one of pity. "You're using the modern genesis of the word, Fifi. In ancient times, "circus" meant any gathering place. In Rome, it meant something- somePLACE- very specific. Here."
The sound of clickety-clacks filled the room as the professor googled a phrase. Satisfied with the results, he let Fifi look at the screen- and looked at her as her eyes widened in amazement:
The first instance of Roman persecution of Christians is during the reign of Nero after a fire at the Circus Maximus.
"Now do you believe?", he asked.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's so much to fathom. Six talented comedians at the heart of an anti-Catholic plot?"
Langdon looked up victoriously. "Six!" he exclaimed! "Precisely!"
Fifi looked confused.
"Think of all the great performing groups of our time. Performers came and went. But THIS group never expanded beyond its original six members. One died after their canon was complete, but never more, never less, while their beliefs were being perpetuated."
Langdon's mind raced to a point he hadn't even considered. "And it gets worse. How many seasons of episodes are there?"
Fifi knew at once and also frowned. "Four. Some reference to the gospels, maybe?"
"Another misconception," he replied triumphantly. "There were four seasons, but the fourth is considered almost apochryphal by many fans. One of the original six left the group and was never seen in those shows. Some consider him a leader of the entire organization."
"So, you're saying..." Fifi began.
Landgon intoned the end. "THREE seasons. SIX performers. Six-six-six."
Even Fifi had to believe now.
Langdon was rolling. "And that sixth member- the one who left after three seasons but returned for the films. What is he best known for by the children of today?"
Fifi pictured him. She felt physically ill to think it.
"A ghost in the Harry Potter films," she admitted.
"Another translation of sacred to profane," Langdon said. "Find him, and I believe we'll find the reason for this renewal of hate against the Inquisition."
On their map of Rome, they saw a familiar reference to "Il Passetto"- the passage that had meant so much to Langdon's original adventure. He looked at it from a new angle. Passetto could mean passage, he knew. But he also construed it to mean,... could it?
A walkway.
A walk.
A SILLY walk.
"We're going to the Vatican," Langdon ordered. "I know where the enemy of the Inquisiton is."