Vancouver.
Mist clings to the cedars like incense. The city hums softly—bikes on wet pavement, the ocean breathing.
Lenny Belardo stands at a window, cassock open to the grey light. He does not smile easily, but today his voice is gentle.
LENNY BELARDO (PIUS XIII):
You chose an interesting neighborhood, Maria. Lady Gaga next door, forests in front of you, glass towers behind. It’s almost… a theological joke.
LORDE (MARIA JELIC O’CONNOR):
Vancouver pretends it’s gentle. Like it’s already saved.
LENNY:
Yes. That’s the danger. The greenest city in the world can still be guilty of forgetting God’s creation—because it thinks solar panels are enough.
He turns to her, eyes sharp, searching.
LENNY:
You know you have family here.
LORDE:
I know.
LENNY:
Martin Jelic. Blood remembers even when nations forget. Roots matter. Even in a city built on glass.
A pause. Outside, rain begins.
LORDE:
Sometimes I feel like music is all I can offer. A warning song. Or a lullaby before the flood.
LENNY:
That is more than most offer. David had only a harp. Jeremiah had only his voice. God has always worked with artists when kings failed Him.
He moves toward the small chapel. Kneels.
LENNY (softly):
This city likes to call itself green. Then let it prove it.
LORDE:
You really think prayer can stop ecocide?
Lenny does not look up.
LENNY:
Prayer doesn’t replace action.
It makes action possible.
Without prayer, activism becomes vanity. Without love, it becomes cruelty.
He makes the sign of the cross.
LENNY:
If the last stand must begin anywhere, let it begin here—
where forests still breathe,
where oceans still speak,
where artists still listen.
The bells echo faintly through Vancouver’s rain.
For a moment, the city listens back.