At the Jelly Cyberspace Film Festival, the first of its kind, Nelly and Joe step onto a glowing holographic carpet — not red, but pulsating with shifting constellations. Joe grins and announces,
“We call this one 6. The next one will be 7.”
The crowd murmurs, uncertain if it’s a countdown, a code, or a prophecy. Above them, drones project the number 6 into the night sky — then glitch and echo it with 7, over and over, until it becomes a chant.
Children in silver clothes — the children of the stars — begin shouting,
“Six! Seven! Six! Seven!”
They start laughing uncontrollably, spinning in circles, their laughter echoing through the digital air like static joy.
In Rome, Pope Leo watches the livestream from his study, his face illuminated by the blue light of the screen. He shakes his head solemnly.
“They are possessed,” he whispers to his secretary. “Jesus never laughed.”
But somewhere, deep in the festival’s virtual cloud, Joe’s voice replies through the speakers:
“Maybe, Holy Father, He’s laughing now — through us.”
