Gienna stood beneath the old oak tree, salty tears rolling steadily down her face. She had, clutched in her right hand, a bunch of white flowers and try as she might she could not help but remember that tragic day those near 2 decades ago when she had buried her husband. So young they had been, so cruel was his murder. The Papal security force, akin in style to the KGB, had come round to her house one evening and shot her husband dead, because he threatened them. And why? Because when the Papal army came to power all thinkers, all scientists, all proponents of rational thought, had been forced to accept that such thoughts were heresy or were killed. Thousands had died, thousands more tortured in one of the greatest exercises in brain washing of history. But as agents were dispatched to persuade the people of the con of science, as all forms of media began to toe the line, as those who argued disappeared in the night or were given show trails, Stellarisiens had, over the last thirty years, through a mixture of peer pressure and fear, begun to believe the Pope. Gienna laid the flowers and walked slowly away, pulling her black netted widows veil back over her face.