“I’m just messing around.” Roberto slid out the keyboard tray.

“Google search ‘Vatican Secret Archives’,” Mario suggested, familiar with the rising tech startup in Silicon Valley that was gaining popularity for its online search capabilities.

“You realize dogpile.com is the superior search engine, right?” Roberto typed in the URL to the Google competitor’s website. “How can a search engine named ‘Go Ogle’ ever be successful? Sheesh, any time I ogle women, I get slapped.” Secretly, Roberto was so convinced this latest startup would fail that he was buying thousands of put options against it, betting its stock would crash. He was set to make a fortune, much like George Soros betting against the pound sterling turning him into an instant billionaire.

“Really? You’re surprised that behavior gets you slapped?”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“Whatever. Just search ‘Vatican Secret Archives’, will you please?”

Data began filling the monitor, each line populated with newfound knowledge.

“There!” Mario leaned in, his finger tracing a line of information on the screen. “That’s the center of my scanning operation—all the diaries, documents, scrolls, and—”

“Wait, they have scrolls?” Roberto interrupted, his eyes wide with intrigue.

“You have no idea.” Mario swiveled to face Roberto, his expression grave. “Remember. Nothing leaves this room.”

“Understood,” Roberto nodded.

“No, I need more than an ‘understood.’ Swear to me this doesn’t leave this room.”

“Buddy, it’s me. I swear. I promise.” Roberto raised his right hand, mimicking the solemnity of an oath in court.

Mario turned back towards the screen, his eyes scanning the cascading information. “Now, I’ve only been granted access to a small section. They trust me, but they’re being cautious. They don’t want to tempt me. Once I complete this first section, I’ll be granted access to the next.”

“Incredible,” Roberto murmured, his gaze locked on the screen.

“Father Benedetti was also working on this same assignment. Did you know he was only twenty-six years old when his heart gave out?” Mario spoke in a hushed tone, the cold pit in his stomach constantly gnawing at him as he contemplated his new role within the Vatican. The eerie coincidence of Father Benedetti’s death cast a long shadow over his prestigious new position. He had recently discovered that Father Benedetti was the second priest assigned to the Vatican Secret Archives who had succumbed to a heart attack.

“Not unheard of, the whole embolism thing and all.”

“Hold on. How did you know he died of an embolism?”

“Dogpile.com.” Roberto’s smile was smug, confident in the superiority of his chosen search engine over Go Ogle.

While Mario had been engaged in his interview process, Roberto had conducted his own investigation into the enigmatic position Mario was vying for. The untimely passing of Father Benedetti could be interpreted as a fortuitous twist of fate opening a golden opportunity for Mario. On the other hand, it could be seen as a curse, drawing him deeper into the perilous depths of the Vatican’s sinister web until he was unable to break free. The sole purpose of his quiet search was to safeguard his best friend from falling into a perilous trap. Despite the Vatican’s prestigious reputation, Roberto’s instincts screamed caution.

The rhythmic tapping of keys filled the room as Roberto continued the online investigation.

“Here it is.”

The Vatican Secret Archives, a treasure trove of historical documents and papal records, originated as a dual-purpose repository serving both as an archive and a library for the popes. This dual functionality persisted until 1612 when Pope Paul V appointed a separate custodian specifically for the Archives, marking a significant shift in its management.

The inception of what would later be known as the “Vatican Secret Archives” is attributed to Pope Pius IV. This official designation marked the beginning of a new era in the Vatican’s record-keeping. The physical structure housing these secret archives was completed in the early 17th century. For centuries, it stood as a fortress of inaccessible information, its contents shrouded in mystery until the late 19th century. At this point, it was reportedly opened to a select group of scholars, breaking centuries of strict confidentiality.

Pope Pius XII chose his papal name “Pius” in honor of Pope Pius IV, the pope who is credited with the official establishment of the Secret Archives. This choice reflects the enduring significance of the Secret Archives in the Vatican’s history.

In an attempt to shed some light on the contents of the Secret Archives, a heavily edited index was published. Alongside this, a comprehensive set of rules was established to regulate access to this privileged information, ensuring its continued protection.

In addition to the Secret Archives, the Vatican also houses an even more confidential collection known as the “Apostolic Penitentiary.” This archive contains a wealth of papal documents and canon law, further adding to the Vatican’s rich tapestry of historical records.

“Wow, you are in the belly of the beast, my friend.” Roberto leaned back, staring at his best friend.

“I am in the secret of secrets.”

“You could say you’re in the Vatican’s most intimate chambers,” Roberto laughed, grabbing his crotch with both hands.

“Remember, you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Mario said, ignoring the crude jab mocking the Vatican.

“I know, I know. I am just so fuc— excuse me, damn excited you are in the thick processing the Vatican’s deepest secrets.” Roberto swiveled his chair around and stood up. “You can tell me more over dinner. The timer’s going off.”

“Good, I’m famished.” Mario followed Roberto out of the office back into the kitchen.

“I got us a delicious DOCG Chianti,” Roberto said, referring to the highest classification of Italian wine. “You’re going to love this one.”

“You didn’t skimp on anything, did you?”

“Nope. You’ve earned it, my friend.”

Roberto plated lasagna, salad, and garlic bread for himself and his friend. Gripping a long pepper-grinder, he twisted the wooden cylinder over the salad, knowing how his best friend preferred his meals. He placed the pepper grinder on the island while reflecting on Mario’s significant achievement. “Remember how we used to marvel at the Vatican, believing neither of us would ever be part of it?”

Mario watched his friend acknowledging his accomplishment.

“And here you are, entrusted with the most confidential of secrets. I’m super proud of you, Mario.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Roberto, cradling two plates of his signature lasagna, led them into the dining room. This was a special meal, a celebration of Mario’s new position. Setting down the plates, he lifted his glass of wine in a toast. “To your success, my friend. You’ve truly made it.”

Their glasses clinked together, the sound echoing their shared joy. They both took a moment to appreciate the fine Chianti, a fitting complement to the next chapter of Mario’s life.

“Berto, this is truly exceptional,” Mario managed to say through a mouthful of lasagna. He wiped at the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Thank you.”

As they continued to enjoy their meal, the conversation flowed freely. Their friendship, deep and enduring, was nourished by these exchanges. They valued the honesty and openness of their discussions. It was refreshing to take in different perspectives, especially given their contrasting worlds. Roberto, immersed in the high-tech and materialistic world, and Mario, devoted to his faith and religion, provided a balance for each other. Their friendship, forged in the shared experiences of their upbringing in the orphanage, now spanned nearly three decades. Despite their differences, their bond was as strong as blood brothers—it was unbreakable and profound, and they both knew it.

“I got some tiramisu from my favorite patisserie. You interested?”

“Are you kidding? Remember, I have twenty-eight sweet teeth,” Mario laughed, flashing a wide grin and pointing to his pearly white teeth.

“I know, I know, everyone else has only one sweet tooth, but you got the full set.” Roberto chuckled at Mario’s oft-repeated joke. He collected their plates and silverware, stacking them neatly before heading off to slice the delectable Italian dessert.

“Do you want an espresso with that?” he called from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I have to be up early for morning service.”