23. Med. Sea: 7th Philosophical Meeting (21 pgs.)

ACT I - CHAPTER 23

MEDITERRANEAN SEA

7TH MEETING:

ETHICS — PART 1

Saturday April 7, 2018

Between Barcelona and Palmas de Mallorca Spain

Alexandre rode the bus back to the hotel with the team after losing three to two to Los Caballeros de Madrid on their home court. The morning match was unusual, but no excuse for defeat. He wore Boris’s T-shirt for the first time. He expected Victoria at the bar, to spend a couple of hours before Yellow picked him up after lunch. She would stay at his apartment until Monday.

When he arrived, Victoria was animated, talking to Francisca in the lounge by the bar. He approached and greeted them with a kiss.

“Our destinies cross again. Victoria told me you won’t stay, what a pity,” Francisca said.

“How is your father?” he asked.

“Completely recovered.”

“That’s good news.”

They talked, laughed, and drank champagne until Alexandre checked the clock.

“I’ll be late. Sorry for leaving like this,” he said, saying goodbye. He pulled on his hood and sunglasses and left through a side door, walking fast.

“I’ll buy you another champagne,” Francisca said.

“No, this time I invite,” Victoria responded, calling the waiter.

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“No. We better go to the presidential suite. It’s unoccupied. Do you like the idea?” Francisca asked.

“Oh, I’d love to! But now let me invite you. Come to Alexandre’s apartment for lunch. I have everything ready to cook.”

“I love the idea! Wait here. I’ll go get something and be back,” Francisca said sweetly.

Victoria felt triumphant. She could confront the enemy on her territory. Sometimes Francisca seemed defensive, avoiding her questions. Other times she felt loved and understood. Curiosity and tenderness mixed with distrust and fear.

——

“Where are we going, Yellow?” Alexandre asked.

“To the airport.”

“I can’t go far. I promised Victoria I’d be back tomorrow!”

“Don’t worry. The trip is only 45 minutes. We’re going to Palmas.”

Mr. Walker’s new plane was an 18-person executive model, remodelled with all safety measures. It had a large living room and a suite at the back.

From the window, Alexandre saw Barcelona’s streets recede, then the plane entered clouds. Turbulence shook it.

At Palmas de Mallorca Yacht Club, Yellow drove him to the dock. Wind swept across the marina. They boarded a white three-deck yacht.

“It’s a Mellendi from the Prince of Neptune series,” Yellow said.

“How long is it?”

“Forty-eight meters with a twelve-meter beam,” Yellow answered.

“I see the meeting will be here at the Yacht Club,” Alexandre said, greeting Ricardo.

“We’ll hold it on the high seas.”

“It doesn’t seem wise with this weather,” Alexandre said.

“The crew is ready, and the forecast shows no storm,” Ricardo said.

“Why take the risk?” Alexandre asked.

“For safety. We discover that the same people who tried to kill us on the plane want to kill us here. On the high seas, we’ll be safer.”

“I heard Mr. Walker is fine. Correct?”

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“Yes.”

“How many crew members are there?” Alexandre asked.

“Eleven plus the three of us, and Yellow.”

“I think we should stay at the marina,” Arturo said. The sea was rough, wind rising.

“Gentlemen, don’t worry. These are typical Palmas winds. On the high seas, the ocean will be flat. I know this sea like my hand,” the captain said.

“Then set sail, captain!” Arturo said, pretending bravery.

——

Francisca appeared in the hotel hall with a large pink suitcase.

“What have you got there?” Victoria asked.

“An artistic surprise. I hope you like it,” Francisca said. They went to Alexandre’s apartment.

“Look, shrimp! Let’s make garlic shrimp. They go perfectly with that white wine!” Francisca said, excited as they arrived.

“Yes, good idea! Alexandre and I have become experts at this dish. Let me cook for you,” Victoria said.

“An aphrodisiac dish!” Francisca exclaimed. “I like how Alexandre decorated the apartment. Simple, elegant. And this view of the Mediterranean Sea is awesome!” She walked over just as Victoria set the table and uncorked champagne.

“Actually, I decorated it. We have the same taste,” Victoria said, taking the shrimp from the bag.

“And I have the same taste as you,” Francisca added.

“Sit down. I’ll serve the shrimps,” Victoria said, thinking, Now I’ll unmask you!

“Oh no! Let me help!” Francisca said, thinking, How cute she is!

“Nothing of that. Today you are my prisoner, and I will host you.”

“Oh! Alright! I want to be your prisoner! I’m so happy! Were you having fun here with Ronald?” Francisca asked.

“Yes. The three of us have had dinner here many times.”

“And you were talking philosophy?”

“Yes.”

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“If I had known Ronald earlier… maybe he needed a woman like me.”

“I think you would have understood each other well,” Victoria said.

“I hope so. So, you philosophized in the kitchen?” Francisca asked.

“Yes. They searched for all kinds of metaphors and analogies.”

“Do you remember any?”

“Yes. They concluded the only philosophy that explains football, and vice versa, is Aristotle’s,” Victoria said, placing two plates of garlic shrimp on the table.

“Yes, it’s true, because Aristotle is based in reality, just like football. My father and I love him too. Let’s drink to Aristotle,” Francisca said, placing her right hand on Victoria’s left thigh.

“Cheers to Aristotle!” Victoria said.

“And to Ronald and Alexandre!” Francisca added.

“Cheers!”

“Tell me more!” Francisca begged.

“Sometimes they lost track of time talking. Several nights, Ronald stayed here. After enough drinks, we all slept in the suite.”

“And you just slept?”

“Well… we had never tried drugs. Curious, we tried a light marijuana water pipe Alexandre had as decoration.”

“And where is it?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Let’s see it.”

“I’ll show you later. The shrimp are getting cold,” Victoria said, thinking, How impulsive!

“Cheers to the shrimp!” Francisca said, thinking, Will you fall, little bird, will you fall?

“Cheers!”

“And then? Did you enjoy the marijuana?”

“Yes. We smoked, danced, and everything spun. I went to bed in silk shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt. It was hot, and I fell asleep face down. Sometimes I woke to their laughter from the living room. It was contagious. I laughed with them, alone, crying on the bed,” Victoria said, took a sip of wine, and continued.

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“They turned on music and entered the bedroom. They danced like Egyptians. I laughed until I cried. I stood on the bed, imitating them. Laughter shook us. I fell onto the bed; they to the floor. Then we danced in the suite. Alexandre brushed his body against mine from the front, but I moved back until my legs touched Ronald’s and I felt his virility behind me. That’s when they made the first sandwich. We danced. They pressed me. I felt them in front and behind at the same time. Then they let go and did it again. And I surrendered to the pleasure. Nothing beyond that,” Victoria said.

“How exciting,” Francisca said, sipping water to calm herself.

“Yes. I got very excited. I would have slept with both, but we only danced and laughed like children.”

“Ronald was like a naughty, funny child, right?” Francisca asked.

“Yes. Adorable. I wanted to make love to him. Brilliant mind. We all slept in the bed. In the morning, Ronald was gone,” Victoria said, taking off her shoes.

“You’re right, let’s get more comfortable,” Francisca said, removing hers.

——

They had set sail from Palmas marina five minutes ago when Alexandre checked his watch.

They sat at a large table in the yacht’s saloon. As always, they placed the black granite tetrahedron, Ronald’s photo, and the ball, along with the butcher knife, the vodka, and the glasses.

“Today it’s my turn to open Ronald’s letter,” Arturo said, picking up the knife. He opened the envelope.

“DEAR EAGLES:

THIS IS RONALD SPEAKING.

THIS MEETING IS TO OPEN A DEBATE.

TODAY YOU’LL EXPLORE WHAT YOU GAIN WITH ETHICS.

THE QUOTE: WHO SAID: ‘IF YOU SEE WHAT IS RIGHT BUT DO NOT DO IT, YOU LACK COURAGE’.

A) ARISTOTLE

B) CONFUCIUS”

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They made their bets and chose.

“I think Aristotle said that,” Ricardo voted. “He also has a phrase on courage.”

“I’ll vote for Aristotle too,” Alexandre replied.

“I vote for Confucius,” Arturo replied.

“Oh no! Arturo won this time!” Ricardo exclaimed, checking online.

“Pay me, guys! I’m recovering from my previous losses! Ha!” Arturo celebrated. After they paid him, he continued reading.

“THE JOKE: A POLITICIAN IS ASKED, ‘WHY DO YOU LOVE PROPAGANDA?’ HE ANSWERS, ‘BECAUSE IT MAKES LYING A PUBLIC SERVICE.’”

They shook their heads, smiling, but sighed at the cruel truth of the joke.

Arturo burned the letter. Alexandre collected the ashes in a plastic bag.

“For the success of our book!” Arturo toasted, lifting his glass toward Ronald’s picture and the tetrahedron.

The tetrahedron was always kind of alive in the meetings. It was a living black mirror. Its polished granite reflected the light of what they did there.

“Are we ready to start today’s debate?” Alexandre asked, turning on his recorder.

“We are ready,” Ricardo said, handing out pills. “These prevent motion sickness.” He gave each of them a duty belt and .44 Magnums. “They’re loaded. Keep them with you until Barcelona,” he said.

“Why the gun?” Arturo asked, fastening the belt.

“Just in case the yacht’s crew is infiltrated. They could kill us and throw our bodies overboard. Perfect crime,” Ricardo explained.

“Possible?” Arturo asked.

“Possible, yes; probable, less. But we better be ready.”

“We are going to Barcelona? We are crossing the Mediterranean in this storm?” Alexandre asked, checking his Magnum and Boris’s GPS in his pocket.

“Safest option. The captain says ten hours maximum, perfect time for our debate,” Ricardo replied.

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The luxury 20-suite yacht glowed under distant lightning. Yellow kept watch outside, another Magnum in hand. Bulletproof vests and life jackets on, they all had weapons ready.

Suddenly Alexandre commanded, “Follow me outside.” On deck, he pulled out his gun, disengaged the safety, and fired once into the air. “Are you ready to learn?” he shouted.

Arturo and Ricardo smiled, drew their guns, and fired into the sky. “Yes!”

Alexandre fired again. “Are you ready to suffer?”

“Yes!” they yelled.

“Eagles or chickens?” Alexandre asked firing.

“Eagles!” they replied.

Three more rounds, quick and precise. They followed him.

“Let’s go down to the saloon,” Alexandre said.

“Shall we start our philosophical exploration?” he asked at the table.

“Please,” Ricardo said.

“Just as Ronald said, today we are going to explore your advantage to live ethically,” Alexandre said.

“I remember when you took us to the football goal. You showed ethics rests on metaphysics and epistemology, like a beam on two pillars,” Arturo said. Then he pointed to a Lego box. “What is that for?”

“To illustrate how ethics derives from metaphysics and epistemology,” Alexandre said. “I’ll make the beam. You build the pillars. But without copying each other. Without looking. Everyone does it in their own way.”

The yacht swayed. Items on the white table stayed put. They built in silence. Arturo chose blue Legos; Ricardo red; Alexandre yellow.

When they finished, they tried to place the beam on the pillars. They burst into laughter. The lengths, colours, and thicknesses were all mismatched.

“We never defined length, thickness, colour,” Alexandre laughed.

“More than a football goal, this looks like modern art,” Ricardo said.

“If these represent metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics, what’s our first conclusion?” Alexandre asked, checking that Boris’s GPS keychain was in his pocket.

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Arturo examined the structure. “This may look ridiculous, but shows truth: the beam relies on the pillars. To represent ethics properly, beam and pillars must match in colour and thickness.”

“You’re right,” Alexandre said. He and Ricardo rebuilt it. The ball rolled to the floor. When finished, the new arch was uniform: all blue, same thickness.

“This represents your mind,” Alexandre said, pointing. “If ethics is blue, what’s the colour of your pillars?”

“Blue. Ethics derives from metaphysics and epistemology,” Arturo said, thinking, I can’t believe I said that. I understand words I never used before.

After an hour of conversation, they moved to the deck with the recorder and Ronald’s picture. The waves, sometimes terrifying, framed their debate.

Yellow was near them. He spotted a man with a gun approaching. He jumped, fought, and threw him into the sea. He warned them. Hands went to Magnums, then back into belts when they saw it was the captain.

“The weather has changed. Seas are a bit rougher. Please keep your life jackets on,” the captain said calmly, walking out in his white suit and cap.

Half an hour later, Arturo shared that Greek sailors sacrificed horses to Poseidon before war, believing it ensured a safe journey.

A crew member appeared. Hands went to Magnums.

“The captain prefers you go below. Storm tail may hit. But as it comes, so it goes,” he said, as a lightning bolt illuminated the Mediterranean, another lit Barcelona.

——

“Don’t you find the force of nature fascinating?” Francisca asked after the colossal lightning. Dusk had fallen over Barcelona.

“I love it.”

They sat together on the sofa, drinking champagne, watching lightning strike the sea.

“Can you imagine what’s in my suitcase?” Francisca asked.

“No. What is it?”

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“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute,” Francisca said, taking her pink suitcase to the suite.

Victoria remained on the sofa, watching the storm, waiting to unmask Francisca. Had she slept with Alexandre? She needed to know. After a few minutes, a voice spoke.

“Are you sitting on the couch?” Francisca called from the bedroom.

“Yes.”

“Close your eyes.”

Victoria obeyed. Seconds later, she felt Francisca’s hands covering her eyes from behind.

“Do you trust me?” Francisca asked.

“Yes,” Victoria said, a hint of fear in her voice.

Francisca blindfolded her with a silk scarf. Then she guided her to stand, letting her move a few steps.

“Stay still. I’ll play music,” Francisca said.

Smooth jazz pop filled the room, mingling with thunder.

“I’ll position you as a Greek goddess,” Francisca said, adjusting Victoria’s arms and posture until she looked sculpted.

Victoria wore a one-piece dress ending mid-thigh; her figure was highlighted by high heels.

“Do you want to perceive sensations?” Francisca asked.

“Yes,” Victoria said, playing along.

“We’ll be two goddesses. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Just enjoy your body. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Promise to remain still no matter what you feel?”

“Yes,” she answered and thought, Now I’ll unmask you!

“I’ll start now,” Francisca whispered, thinking, Will you fall, little bird, will you fall?

Victoria felt a feather brush her calves, creeping up to her thighs. She stayed perfectly still as Francisca walked over her body.

“Can I undress a goddess?” Francisca whispered.

“Yes,” Victoria said after a pause. “Are you another goddess?”

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“Yes. As beautiful as you,” Francisca said, lips brushing her ear. Victoria felt a thrill of pleasure but stayed motionless, waiting for an opportunity.

“If one goddess undresses another, will you reveal the god you love?” Victoria asked softly.

“Yes. Trust me and speak,” Francisca said.

“Alexandre is my Apollo,” Victoria whispered.

“Oh! Is that your god?” Francisca asked.

“Yes.”

“Thanks for trusting me! And the goddess who loves him? Your name?” Francisca asked.

“I am Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and sensuality, most beautiful in the pantheon; married to Hephaestus, lover of Ares, but now my heart belongs to Apollo, son of Zeus and Leto, revered in arts, music, bow and arrow, protector of sailors and archers,” Victoria said. “And you?”

“Venus is my name. Daughter of Uranus, born from his mutilated manhood and the sea foam. Most beautiful, fertile, revered in Roman festivals. Desired by all gods. Jupiter sought me; I refused and married Vulcan. Mars, Poseidon, Mercury are my lovers. My anger destroys those who do not adore me,” Francisca said.

“Aphrodite suffers because she lacks an answer,” Victoria said thinking, Finally, my opportunity!

“Venus wants to relieve your pain. What question torments you?” Francisca asked, as lightning struck the sea.

“Can two goddesses share a god?”

“Yes,” Francisca said.

“Have you slept with Apollo?”

“No. Do you think he hides something from you?” Francisca asked, thinking, She can’t be more cuter!

“Yes.”

“If he does, it’s because he loves you,” Francisca said.

“Should I trust him, even if Venus’s lips sealed the message in his pocket?” Victoria asked.

“Have you read it?”

“I saw the seal.”

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“Mercury’s messages are double-sided,” Francisca said, thinking, Oh no! She read only one side!

“I read one. What did the other say?” Victoria asked.

“The place Apollo was to go.”

“Where?”

“No god will answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because you are Aphrodite, most beautiful, loved and protected by the gods.”

“Protected from what?” Victoria asked.

“Don’t ask. Trust! Beloved Aphrodite, the gods protect you.”

“So, can I trust Venus?”

“Absolutely,” Francisca said, eyes glistening.

“Thank you, Venus. Aphrodite no longer suffers,” Victoria said, relief washing over her. She now knew Alexandre had not cheated. She had freed herself from months of pain. Motionless like a statue, blindfolded, her body trembled. A tear slid down the silk, and Francisca, moved to the depths of her soul, felt her own welling up.

Little bird! Little bird! Forgive me! Francisca thought. She struggled to control her emotions, afraid of falling in love.

“I’m afraid of falling in love,” Francisca whispered.

Victoria remained still as Francisca’s warm hands lowered the zipper of her dress.

With only the blindfold remaining, Francisca placed a scale in Victoria’s left hand and a sword in the right. She observed, Are you acting, little bird? Do you intend to trick me?

Lightning illuminated her nude form. Francisca captured images using her phone, potential leverage if needed; while Poseidon’s lust seemed to celebrate her beauty.

——

“If this is the tail, what will the storm be like!” Arturo exclaimed, entering the yacht’s salon with Ronald’s picture. The ball was rolling by itself across the floor.

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“We have to finish this chapter today!” Alexandre shouted over the wind. “No storm will change Ronald’s agenda!”

“And who says otherwise?” Arturo declared, white as paper. “No storm will stop us!” He stopped the ball with his foot, then sat down, holding it in his hands. “I feel bad,” he added.

“Here, take another pill!” Ricardo said, handing them more. He had become the group’s nurse.

After fixing Ronald’s picture and the tetrahedron to the table with tape, Alexandre resumed recording.

He asked, “If your ethics are Aristotelian, can your metaphysics be Platonist?”

“No,” Arturo replied.

“Why? Alexandre asked.

“Because your ethics cannot contradict your metaphysics. Your decisions must reflect your view of the world. We’ve already seen this, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but can you give an example?” Alexandre asked again.

“What I remember is that if you believe there is only one world and you live only once, without reincarnation, your ethical decisions follow from that. If you imagine that there are two worlds and you reincarnate many times, your ethical decisions will be completely different. Both ethics arise from different ways of seeing the world, and the way you see the world is metaphysics. We see that Plato’s metaphysics cannot coexist with Aristotle’s, so their ethics are different as well,” Arturo said.

“Exactly. Also, Plato says we are born with knowledge; Aristotle, tabula rasa. Plato postulates two ‘selves’: one in the material world, another eternal in the world of Ideas. The eternal ‘self’ holds knowledge of past lives, which you must recall with your mortal brain. Aristotle? One world, one ‘self’, learning everything from scratch through observation and logic. This is Aristotle versus Plato, science versus mysticism,” Alexandre paused, watching the ball move on its own.

“Obviously, how you think about the world shapes your moral decisions,” Ricardo added.

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“Arturo, can you see what the dictionary says about ethics and morality?” Alexandre asked. A news alert flashed on his phone: NORTH KOREA TESTS A NUCLEAR BOMB. Ronald in the CIA? Boris you’re wrong, he thought.

Arturo read from his phone. “Morality is tradition and culture imitation. Ethics is reasoned study, logic and reflection. Ethics is thought; morality is habit.”

“Alexandre, are you even listening?” Arturo asked. “Where is your head? What are you thinking?

“Nothing,” Alexandre said and thought, I can’t tell you about Boris.

“Perhaps you worry about your marriage?” Arturo asked, catching the ball that rolled toward his foot.

“No. Let’s continue with the book,” Alexandre said.

They summarized their conclusion: Humans, as rational animals, should choose rational ethics.

In that moment, Alexandre had a strange thought. Ronald, is the book worth it in the shadow of a nuclear threat? A natural answer came: It is, to rebuild the world from the ashes.

They debated selfishness versus altruism. Altruist ethics demanded indiscriminate sacrifice for others, and was not empathy.

They also discussed the importance to choose a life purpose.

In some moment Arturo asked, “What is that?” pointing to a blue leather book face down on the table.

“Turn it over!” Alexandre said.

Arturo flipped it. In gold letters: My Champion’s Constitution.

“I wrote my lifetime goal there. My constitution is my greatest tool. Real self-esteem is my objective,” Alexandre explained.

Poseidon’s fury increased. The yacht pitched violently. Gods were angry. Humans dared to empower their minds. But no storm could stop them.

——

Venus’s whisper in Aphrodite’s ear sent a shiver of pleasure through Victoria’s naked body. She was not afraid and wanted to continue, but she had not expected Francisca to fall in love with her.

Francisca continued the sensual game, tracing Victoria’s skin with the feather.

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“I will take away the scales and the sword and dress you like a goddess. Do you agree?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She moved delicately and slowly. With each lightning bolt, Poseidon’s light bathed Aphrodite until she was fully dressed.

“You can’t move. One goddess will greet another,” Francisca said. Victoria felt her lips brush hers. The game had gone further than she expected, but she held still, waiting to learn more about Francisca.

“Now open your eyes,” Francisca said.

Victoria saw that they were both wearing ancient Greek costumes. Four red candles illuminated the room. Barefoot on a rug, they were surrounded by rose petals, olive oil, honey, and seashells.

“This is the altar of the goddess Aphrodite,” Francisca said. “May I make you an offering?”

“Yes,” Victoria replied.

Francisca began. “Beloved Aphrodite,” she intoned, “I proudly give you these offerings of honey, roses, and olive oil from our land, and these shells from your marine kingdom.”

“Aphrodite has returned to life thanks to your love and offerings. You have freed the goddess from the marble!” Victoria said, improvising. She knelt, took Francisca’s hands, and guided her to kneel as well.

“I, Aphrodite, pray to Venus to take my place on my altar,” Victoria said, standing and guiding Francisca.

“Do you want to be the sculpture of Venus?” she whispered in Francisca’s ear.

“Yes,” Francisca murmured, letting herself go. Will you fall, little bird? she thought.

“Can I undress your beauty?”

“I wish it.”

Victoria seized the moment, slowly undressing Venus. Her skin was smooth, like living marble, glowing in candlelight.

“Can I make you an offering, oh beloved Venus?” Victoria asked.

She wanted to improvise offering herself, and thought, I promised Alexandre I would tell him before sleeping with another man, but we didn’t say anything about women. She smiled at the loophole, thinking that if she pursued this adventure, she preferred it shared with him.

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“Yes, you can!” Francisca said, surprised. She had grown accustomed to people who appeared chaste but were corrupt beneath the surface. Memories surfaced, of a man who had tried to rape her at seventeen, thwarted only by her quick action. She had never told her father.

“Oh, Aphrodite! Do you feel any desire that consumes you?” Francisca asked, testing if she would disappoint her as others had.

“Aphrodite will not go further without Apollo. Can we share you?” Victoria asked.

“Yes,” Francisca whispered, falling to her knees before Aphrodite, tears in her eyes.

Francisca confirmed that Victoria would not deceive Alexandre, and she knew he wouldn’t deceive her either. They had withstood Venus’s seductive magic. With tears in her eyes, Francisca thought, Maybe the world I dreamed of exists. She admired them and longed for a love like theirs.

——

“Here’s another pill for motion sickness,” Ricardo said, trying to maintain her composure while Alexandre held onto the blackboard. They had put it there to explain the topics with drawings.

They secured Ronald’s picture and the tetrahedron with more tape.

“Tell Zeus to calm down!” Arturo exclaimed, stopping the ball with his foot as lightning struck the yacht’s antenna.

The storm raged, but they continued.

“Didn’t you say we’d be safer on the high seas?” Arturo yelled, throwing the ball to Ricardo.

“I trusted what the captain said,” Ricardo replied, catching it with both hands and falling to the floor. They all laughed, holding onto something.

“Let’s keep going!” Alexandre shouted as the yacht rocked violently. They secured Ronald’s picture and the tetrahedron with more tape.

“I feel awful,” Arturo admitted, pale-faced.

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“Here’s another one,” Ricardo said. “Can you swallow it without water?”

“Yes,” Arturo said, grimacing. “I need the bathroom! I’m going to throw up!”

Upon returning, Arturo took more pills. The nausea subsided, and they returned to the debate. Questions flowed. New connections were made; new things were discovered from new perspectives.
They refused to let the storm or their discomfort stop them. The recorder captured every word.

Alexandre asked them to help him hang the sign for that meeting. Hanging a canvas was simple under normal conditions, but an odyssey in the middle of a storm. When they finally managed to hang it, it read:

CHAMPION CONSTITUTION

“We need a tool powerful enough to make us immune to cultural propaganda!” Alexandre said, placing a hand on his champion constitution on the table. “Do you understand why a long-term goal is vital?”

“Because it defines your destiny,” Ricardo said. “I wrote mine too and printed it. Just as a country needs one, so does an individual.”

“I think I always had one, though never written. As a boy, my goal was to become the greatest football player. But they say Pelé already is, so… no, I am God,” Arturo joked. Then, more seriously: “But my life isn’t over. I have a new feat: to write Ronald’s book and publish it. Nothing will stop us, not The Family, not this storm, not anything. Future generations need a tool like this, a tool to think independently. The ruled need to develop minds immune to rulers’ propaganda. We are building a tool to build a better world, the tool of a global educational movement, but from inside, from the families. I will include this in my Champion Constitution.”

“Congratulations!” Alexandre said. “Indeed, your champion constitution should contain a life goal that inspires and motivates you beyond your life. I agree, the book is a tool for a global self-educational movement, just as Ronald intended. The tool and the movement matter more than us. It will be our legacy.”

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“Our book will guide you to Treasure Island,” Ricardo added. “It’s the compass to navigate toward your real self-esteem.”

“You’re right!” Arturo exclaimed. “That is the real treasure. I may have scored the Goal of the Century, but now I pursue my real self-esteem.”

“Your Goal of the Century was unforgettable; your real self-esteem is heroic,” Alexandre said. “More than that, it’s your ticket to experience the virtue of pride.”

“Pride?”

“Yes, the good kind.”

“Is pride a virtue?” Arturo asked.

“Pride is the summation of all man’s virtues, as Aristotle said.”

They continued debating, exploring what pride truly meant and how was connected to human excellence. Outside, lightning split the sky. The storm had never been stronger, but they kept going, undeterred.

——

In Barcelona, Zeus’s light burned with lust, as if wanting to witness the goddesses naked.

“Why do you kneel? Arise, beloved Venus! Do you desire me?” Victoria asked.

“Yes. Oh, beloved Aphrodite! So much that it consumes my soul, my flesh, and my bones!” Francisca replied, tears in her eyes as she stood before her. “Aphrodite! Your generous, pure soul both comforts and torments me! I prostrate myself at your feet!” She fell to her knees again. “Do you truly wish to share Apollo with me?”

“Yes,” Victoria said firmly.

“Then I will venerate you forever,” Francisca said, pressing a kiss to her insteps.

“May Zeus seal this agreement and pave the way!” Victoria exclaimed, and a lightning bolt struck Barcelona, as if the gods themselves endorsed their pact.

“So be it!” Francisca whispered, still sobbing as she rose.

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The theatrical ritual was over. It had allowed them to express the depths of their souls, a catharsis that left them satisfied. Francisca hurried to the bathroom, closing the door and falling to her knees once more. I’m afraid of falling in love, she thought, tears streaming. She didn’t want to be hurt, but she didn’t want to be alone either. Will I be worthy of love?

Victoria, meanwhile, dressed in the living room, watching the storm. She felt relief. Alexandre had been faithful. A warm, protective affection for Francisca arose within her, even as she realized she, too, wanted protection, without knowing from what.

“Oh! How intense! Thank you for being who you are!” Francisca said when she returned.

“Can I hug you?” Victoria asked. Francisca nodded, resting her head on Victoria’s shoulder, and began to cry.

“Why are you crying?” Victoria asked softly.

Francisca remained silent. Minutes passed as Victoria’s shoulder grew damp with tears.

“I’m sorry… sometimes I’m intense. I’m fine,” Francisca said, wiping away her tears as if nothing had happened.

Relaxed and comforted, feeling loved and protected, they talked for hours, mesmerized by the storm’s spectacle.

“Are we going to put on pyjamas?” Francisca asked.

“Yes! Pyjama party!” Victoria cheered, clapping her hands like a little girl.

Like two schoolgirls, they changed, sat cross-legged on the bed, and talked.

“Do you realize that the Greek goddesses were sensual and erotic, like us?” Francisca asked.

“Yes,” Victoria agreed.

“The Greek gods were depicted with naked, erotic bodies, celebrating the beauty of the material world as perceived by the senses. That was their secret: they were beautiful and sensual. How could one not fall in love with them?”

“It’s true. They sublimated human libido, but the Judeo-Christian God represses it,” Victoria observed.

“No wonder humanity has declined so much!” Francisca exclaimed, laughing at those who took vows of chastity only to become corrupted.

“I prefer Venus’s sensual love to platonic love,” Victoria said. Francisca looked at her, thoughtful.

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“Victoria, may I give you a gift?”

“Yes.”

Francisca leaned back, resting her spine on the bed, legs crossed, one arm extended. Her fingers pulled a gold chain from her purse. A tetrahedron hung at its centre.

The diamond was calypso blue. One centimetre along each edge. Each face cut sharp, planes precise. Light struck it and broke, scattering fire in hard flashes.

It rested in a thin gold triangle. The edges curled, gripping the stone like a careful hand. The chain attached to two points.

“It’s the colour of Venus eyes. They will protect you. May I put it on you?”

“Yes.” Victoria inclined her head. Francisca spoke as she fastened it behind her neck. “Oh, my beloved Aphrodite! Receive this gift from Venus, so you always feel protected by my colours.” Victoria felt the diamond’s weight, the triangle’s smooth hold. The tetrahedron floated two inches below her neck, unshielded, perfect.

“Oh, thank you,” Victoria said, brushing her fingers over it.

Without moving from the bed, she leaned back again and reached for another gold chain. Another diamond tetrahedron. Vivid green. Like Victoria’s eyes. Identical gold triangle, edges embracing the stone.

“I want to feel protected by your colours too. Do you want that?”

“With all my soul,” Victoria replied, her gaze steady.

Victoria spoke as she fastened it. “Oh, my beloved Venus! Receive this gift from Aphrodite, so you always feel protected by my colours.”

The two goddesses smiled. The tetrahedrons hung around their necks, symbols of mutual protection. Francisca’s colour eyes in Victoria’s diamond; Victoria’s colour eyes in Francisca’s diamond. Their divine friendship sealed.

The tetrahedrons hovered like tiny suns of distant galaxies. Perfect, bright, unbroken.

“They are so beautiful,” Victoria said. “What stones are these?”

“Diamonds,” Francisca replied.

“Oh no. You shouldn’t,” Victoria said, knowing their value.

“Admiration has no price,” Francisca said smiling. Victoria hugged her.

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“Thanks. What you have done is extraordinary,” Victoria said.

“We are,” Francisca replied.

“Why tetrahedrons?” Victoria asked.

“They represent reality,” Francisca said.

They continued talking until morning, when the sun rose, the life-giver Amun Ra casting golden light over their bodies. The storm had passed. That intense night had given way to rest. They slept well, until almost noon, when Venus told Aphrodite she was leaving. Victoria accompanied Francisca to her car, and they shared a long, heartfelt goodbye hug.

——

They arrived in Barcelona after noon. Poseidon’s fury was behind them. Alexandre stopped the recorder. After returning the guns, they toasted to Ronald’s picture and the black granite tetrahedron, smashing the glasses as was their custom.

Ronald’s book was more than a manuscript. It was their tool for humanity, a compass for civilization, meant to endure far beyond their lifetimes. An educational movement? Perhaps.

They would never forget that journey. Ethics. Virtues. Life. The values of man, the rational animal. They had debated all of it despite the storm, each argument etched into their minds, written in Zeus’s fire. Sea legs still unsteady, Alexandre said goodbye to Ricardo and Arturo.

On his way to his apartment, he reflected, Everything rational is ethically good; everything irrational is ethically bad. He had much work ahead to summarize all that had been learned.

When he arrived, Victoria told him Francisca had spent the night with her and had left an hour earlier. He kissed her and immediately noticed a new sweetness, a brightness in her mood. Around her neck hung a calypso tetrahedron, a jewel floating on her chest, held by a gold chain.

“What is this?” Alexandre asked, holding it. “It’s beautiful. What stone is it?”

“Diamond,” Victoria answered. “Francisca gave it to me last night.”

Alexandre opened his mouth. He knew its value. “Why a tetrahedron?” he asked.

“She said it represents reality,” Victoria said.

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“Indeed it does,” Alexandre said, smiling. “You look more beautiful than ever.” He admired her with reverence.

After lunch, they retreated for a nap. In bed, Alexandre surrendered to the arms of Morpheus, god of sleep, venerated in Greek oracles and temples of Aesculapius, punished by Zeus for revealing secrets to mortals. For a brief, precious moment, he let himself be carried away by dreams, letting the storm of the day, and the world, fade into calm.

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