INT. PAPAL STUDY – NIGHT
The Young Pope, Lenny Belardo, sits at a desk, a laptop glowing before him. He’s in his immaculate white cassock, sipping cherry Coke. Across from him sits Mel Gibson, rough around the edges, eyes flickering with suspicion and curiosity.
LENNY BELARDO
Mel, I’ve built a Word Press website for you. Clean design. Simple navigation. But remember—there will always be pirates chasing the bounty.
MEL GIBSON
Pirates? You mean bootleggers. Thieves.
LENNY
No, Mel. Mythic pirates. They’ve always been with us. From the Barbary coast to Napster. Chasing treasure, chasing your face, your voice, your blood on the screen.
MEL
So what am I supposed to do? Hunt them down?
LENNY
No. Do what Paulo Coelho did. Pirate it yourself. Give it away.
MEL
Give away my movies?
LENNY
Yes. Put every film you ever starred in on the blog. Mad Max. Braveheart. Even What Women Want. Post them free. But with a twist—use artificial intelligence to continue the story.
MEL
You mean—my characters… still alive?
LENNY
Exactly. Imagine Martin Riggs in 2025, still drinking too much, still blowing things up—but now avatar now posting. William Wallace with as another avatar. Father Garupe posting from the mission fields. Your own gallery of digital apostles.
MEL
That’s insane.
LENNY
No, it’s the future. Your own canon. Your movies don’t end—they evolve. And they live here—on the internets, as WWW Bush calls it.
MEL (smirks)
WWW Bush. That sounds about right.
LENNY
Mel, if the pirates come—and they will—smile at them. Hand them the treasure chest yourself. And then watch as they unknowingly spread your gospel.
Mel leans back, rubbing his beard, half-convinced, half-terrified.
MEL
So I become the pirate.
LENNY
No. You become the ocean.
The laptop glows brighter, as if baptizing the idea.