Free Christ Clone by David McLeod

enthusiasm and wealth of knowledge — made her hard to ignore, but the two men, preoccupied with their own agenda, hadn't yet registered her presence.
    After welcoming everyone, the tour guide introduced herself;
'Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lucia.' Her Italian accent matched her looks, and for a moment both men were distracted by her.
    Lucia began her set speech and pointed up at Michelangelo's dome.
'It is called the Cuppolone and it offers symbolic protection to the
Square; the colonnade around us is a masterpiece by Bernini.' She asked everyone to follow her, reminding them that if they got lost they should look for the bright yellow flag she held high above her on an old Roman standard. The group followed quickly and obediently, but the two men dawdled. They had time to kill, and more than the usual sights to take in.
    The next stop was the Sistine Chapel and, in particular, the ceiling frescoes by Michelangelo — Genesis and The Last Judgement. These works were outstanding, the architecture and images breathtaking; the sheer size of the structures dwarfed the visitors. Having surveyed the area for longer than was really necessary, the taller of the two men pointed towards the pulpits way below, and they slowly moved off again. They followed the guide down the Royal Stairway.
    '. . . Projected by Bernini to the Basilica of St Peter, the most important temple of Christianity . . . and The Pieta , by Michelangelo.'
Lucia's hands were pointing left and right.
    As they moved down the aisle towards the statue of Jesus Christ on the cross, the smaller of the two men stopped and moved his hand from his head to his solar plexus, and across his chest from left to right. He was not a devoutly religious man, but always felt compelled to do this in churches and cathedrals.
    They stood at the foot of the statue of Christ, taking in the full extent of the image in front of them; their eyes moved from the nailed and bloody feet, up the legs to the pierced chest and finally came to rest on his face, captivated by the eyes. As in so many depictions of the crucifixion, the eyes looked tired and gazed skyward; the smaller man had, over time, considered this look far too often. Was Jesus looking forward to his ascent, or averting his gaze from the world below?
    To the left of the crucifix was an old oak display cabinet, ringed off by a red felt barrier — having the effect of tape marked 'Police Line. Do
Not Cross' — a flimsy barrier that somehow projected an imaginary force-field protecting whatever was within its care. The men peered inside at the spear tip resting on a deep red, silk-covered base. To the bottom right of the case was a small plaque proclaiming the spear tip to be, in fact, the one used to inflict Christ's fatal wound.
    In smaller text below was a printed statement:
    The actual use of the spear was to confirm to the Roman guards that the person being crucified was in fact dead.
By spearing the heart of the criminal, the guard could then grant removal of the corpse.
    The two men took a last look at the spear tip and then smiled at each other; they knew this was only a replica, but they also knew the real artefact wasn't far away.
    As the group moved on towards the Apostle Palace, their guide continued her narration. 'The oldest section of the complex of
Vatican Palaces . . .' They were shown the apartments of Julius II,
'. . . beautifully decorated by Raphael.' A quick view of the Galleries of the Candelabra, the Greek Cross Room with the sarcophagi of
St Helene and St Constance, then on to the room of the Belvedere
Torso, '. . . a fine example of first-century BC work, admired by the
Renaissance artists.'
    The taller man started to pace out his steps as they walked through the museum. Stopping in the Belvedere Courtyard between the gallery and the museum, he made mental notes of the area while his accomplice tied his shoelace.
    They admired the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoon Group, '. . .
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