Within an hour of passing from this life, Pope Francis found himself in a small office. Worn carpet, a desk, two chairs. The wall paint was peeling. A young man wearing a white tropical suit walked in and sat down behind the desk. He motioned the Pope to the chair across from him. Where am I? In Hell, Francis. That’s impossible. Why? I’m the Pope. There’s another way to look at it. Why wouldn’t you be here? No, really. There’s obviously been an error. A tragic mistake. I’m afraid not. Our transport system is bulletproof. It runs on AI. Then…then … Continue reading →