Spiritual Superheroes

The atmosphere at Central Station on Saturn was charged with tension. Under the enormous transparent domes, tens of thousands of citizens watched with a mix of hope and fear as screens projected the election results from the various moons and colonies. Vicky Valencia, the brave leader of the resistance, had managed to ignite a flame of hope in the hearts of many, from Mercury to Mars. However, everyone knew that Agamenón Petrovsky’s regime would not allow a defeat without fighting to the last breath.

Valencia had led the polls with a wide margin, promising to overthrow despotism and restore human dignity. But promises of change would not be enough against an enemy with no limits. As the election day progressed, her closest collaborators began to fall victim to a series of dark events. Some were found dead under mysterious circumstances, while others were subjected to intimidation, leaving no doubt about who was behind it.

In the midst of this atmosphere of terror, Valencia received reports that her communications were being intercepted and her security team had been infiltrated. However, she was not intimidated. She trusted that truth and justice would prevail and remained firm in her determination to bring the people’s voice to victory. Her promises to break the chains of despotism and restore humanity’s dignity resonated from Mercury to Mars.

The National Electoral Council (CNE), the only entity not fully controlled by the regime, began to announce the official results. Every vote counted, and the suspense was palpable. The screens showed Vicky Valencia leading Petrovsky by a margin of 33%. People began to cheer and hug, hoping that the long night of oppression might finally come to an end. Their jubilation was short-lived.

Just as the CNE was about to declare Vicky Valencia the winner, a wave of darkness swept through the station. The lights flickered, and in an instant, all power faded away. A deathly silence enveloped the crowd. The only light came from the astonished eyes of the onlookers, reflecting confusion and fear.

After what seemed like an eternity, the screens flickered back on, displaying a message in red, threatening letters: “Agamenón Petrovsky, Supreme Leader, winner of the election by a margin of 0.5%.” As the falsely declared winner, Petrovsky appeared on a broadcast from his bunker. His cold, calculating gaze pierced through the cameras as he announced in a firm voice: “I have won. The will of the people has spoken, and now begins a new era of prosperity for Saturn and all our colonies.”

In the midst of his speech, he let slip words that resonated throughout the system: “If we hadn’t won, there would have been a bloodbath on Saturn.”

A growing rumor among his closest followers led him to soften his threat, clarifying that he meant without his socialism, the poor would have had no choice but to kill each other for a piece of bread. His words exposed the harsh reality of a regime willing to do anything to stay in power.

The blow was brutal for the opposition, which now constituted 69% of the nation. The hope that had filled the hearts of the majority of voters turned into a mix of rage and despair.

In the darkened fringes of the station, a small group gathered around a determined figure: Vicky Valencia. Surrounded by democratic leaders from Mercury, Earth, Venus, and Mars, they formed an emergency council, including journalists and electoral witnesses. Anticipating possible fraud from Petrovsky, they had taken measures: photographing and scanning each of the 124,523 ballots from Saturn and its moons, preserving the truth.

Just fifty minutes after Petrovsky’s fraudulent victory announcement, the entire galaxy gained access to those ballots, revealing the tyrant’s resounding defeat. Social media erupted with Vicky Valencia’s message, whose calm yet powerful voice resonated from Berlin S., the headquarters of her campaign on Saturn. Before a crowd packed for dozens of blocks and aerial corridors, she declared:

“This is a blatant fraud. Petrovsky has manipulated the system from within, using his control over the power grid, as he has in the last five elections over twenty years. But this time, we took photos of the 124,523 voting records from Saturn and its moons, and the entire galaxy has concrete proof of our victory.”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers of support. Vicky Valencia, strengthened by the loyalty of her followers and the urgency of the moment, raised her voice once more:

“We cannot allow this tyrant to hold power that does not belong to him. Not today, not after all we have suffered. I will call for a protest march, one the likes of which has never been seen before. From Mercury to Pluto, we must all unite. We will not yield!”

The dissemination of irrefutable evidence of Petrovsky’s electoral fraud caused a domino effect throughout the solar system. Interplanetary communications were flooded with images of the authentic ballots, and collective indignation began to transform into an unstoppable force. In every corner of the human colonies, people took to the streets to show their support for Vicky Valencia and their rejection of Saturn’s oppressive regime.

In the Crystal Palace of Helios, the capital of Mercury, Prime Minister Alejandro Solís called an urgent press conference. Known for his firm commitment to democratic values and his progressive socialist leadership, Solís addressed a planetary audience and the media across the galaxy. His face reflected a mix of determination and concern as he prepared to speak.

“Citizens of the galaxy,” Solís began with a clear, resonant voice, “today we face a flagrant violation of the fundamental principles that underpin our societies. Agamenón Petrovsky’s attempt to cling to power through deceit and manipulation is an affront not only to the people of Saturn but to all humans who value freedom and justice.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

“I want to be emphatic about this: human rights have no political bias. They are universal and inalienable, applicable to any regime that seeks to oppress and silence its people, whether left, center, or right. What we are witnessing on Saturn is not socialism; it is tyranny disguised. Socialism that resorts to lies and violence turns into fascism.”

The cameras focused on Solís as he continued with growing passion.

“We must not forget that Benito Mussolini, one of the most infamous dictators in history, started as a socialist before embracing violence and oppression to impose his will. Let us learn from history to avoid repeating its mistakes. True socialism is based on equity, social justice, and respect for human dignity. Petrovsky has betrayed these values, and it is our duty as citizens of this galaxy to defend our Saturnian brothers and sisters from his despotism.”

Solís’s words resonated throughout the solar system, igniting renewed fervor in pro-democracy movements and providing crucial backing to Vicky Valencia’s cause. Other planetary leaders followed suit, issuing strong statements and offering logistical and moral support to the Saturnian resistance.

On Earth, President Amelia Zhao called an extraordinary session of the Interplanetary Human Rights Council. From the imposing headquarters in New Geneva, she declared firmly:

“The people of Saturn have spoken, and their voice will not be silenced by corruption and intimidation. We stand in solidarity with them and with the democratically elected legitimate leader, Vicky Valencia. We will use all diplomatic and peaceful means at our disposal to ensure that the will of the people is respected.”

Meanwhile, on Venus, the Council of the Floating Cities illuminated their structures with the colors of the Saturnian resistance flag, organizing vigils and raising resources to support the mass protests that were taking shape. Mars, known for its independent spirit and history of fighting against oppression, declared a day of solidarity, mobilizing its own civilian forces in preparation to provide assistance if necessary.

However, not everyone welcomed this call for justice. In the cold, distant colonies of Uranus and Pluto, governed by authoritarian regimes similar to Petrovsky’s, the reactions were of rejection and hostility. The High Commander of Uranus, Selene Krov, issued a statement condemning what she called “an unacceptable interference in Saturn’s internal affairs” and reaffirming her unconditional support for Petrovsky. On Pluto, the dictator Kragov Malek ordered the closure of all communications with democratic planets, fearing that the flames of rebellion might spread to his own domain. Chancellor Oldgin, leader of Jupiter, responded that Saturn’s democratic institutions were robust and that it was the Saturnians who should decide through the National Electoral Council who won the elections.

Back on Saturn, the streets of Berlin S. and other major cities filled with protesters. People of all ages and backgrounds joined together, carrying banners and chanting for freedom. The presence of Petrovsky’s secret police and military forces did not deter the masses; on the contrary, their intimidation only strengthened the collective determination.

Under the constellations that watched over the solar light mantle covering Shanghai J., the most populated metropolis on Jupiter, René settled into his synthetic leather sofa on his terrace, with his tablet. At fifty-seven years old, he was the youngest prophet, and his face still reflected a well-intentioned innocence that the threatening regime of neighboring Saturn yearned to crush. A serene confidence, the kind achieved only by saints and enlightened beings, shone in his honey-colored eyes—an inner peace nourished by years of hard study and intimate conversations with the creator of the Universe.

He considered that Vicky Valencia had become not only a political leader but also the symbol of hope and resistance for Saturn. He saw her on his tablet, from an improvised podium amidst the crowd, with flags waving and faces filled with determination around her. Vicky delivered a passionate speech broadcast live through clandestine channels and replicated by millions.

“Today, we are witnesses to the greatest unity our galaxy has ever known. We are not alone in this fight; our brothers and sisters from Mercury, Earth, Venus, and Mars stand with us. Together, we rise against oppression and declare with one voice that we will not allow the darkness of despotism to eclipse the light of freedom and truth.”

Vicky Valencia’s words ignited the hearts of many, and peaceful protests began to organize with impressive efficiency. Networks of volunteers provided food, medicine, and shelter to the protesters. Artists and poets, like René Swift from Jupiter, contributed songs and writings that inspired and united people beyond planetary borders.

Petrovsky’s regime responded swiftly and brutally. Curfews were imposed, and military forces were deployed in a desperate attempt to quell the growing rebellion. However, the resistance, previously fragmented, became a united force, driven by the regime’s blatant betrayal and corruption. Enraged crowds took to the streets, defying Petrovsky’s security forces.

The Peace Managers, paramilitary bodies serving the regime, began appearing at protests, killing and kidnapping demonstrators. Violence reached a critical point when a video captured by a witness shocked the entire galaxy: an 8-year-old girl, with an expression of innocence and terror, ran through the crowd when a shot from Petrovsky’s paramilitary forces struck her. The impact was devastating, taking her legs in an instant.

The video, recorded by a citizen with a portable device, showed the horror in all its rawness. The girl, later identified as Althea, lay on the ground, her lifeless body surrounded by blood, as the crowd screamed in desperation. The image of her small body, her open eyes, and her life cut short was broadcast throughout the galactic network, leaving an indelible mark on all who saw it.

This incident, far from intimidating the resistance, further fueled the citizens’ fury and determination. Althea became a symbol of suffering under Petrovsky’s regime and the fight for freedom. Outrage crossed the confines of planets and space stations, uniting thousands in a common cry against tyranny.

The sudden censorship of free expression outraged various social actors in the galaxy, and Lilith Morwen, of Neptunian descent, although an ally of Petrovsky, feared that the dictator’s absolute power might not withstand the unity and determination of Vicky and her followers. Perhaps, after all, fate was not on the side of the iron fist.

After Petrovsky shut down social media and announced that all journalists and influencers would be monitored by the “truth committees” formed by his Peace Managers, he met privately with Morwen. The atmosphere in the room was tense, but Petrovsky, as always, maintained a calculated expression of control.

“The end justifies the means, Morwen,” Petrovsky began, evoking one of the principles Machiavelli popularized in The Prince. “Lies are a tool, and in times of crisis, they become a necessity.”

Morwen, whom few dared to contradict, remained calm as she replied, “It is true that lies can be useful, but remember what Machiavelli says: ‘Nothing consumes a prince more than the breach of faith,’ because allies are crucial, and without their support, in the event of a foreign attack, you will be vulnerable.”

Petrovsky allowed a cold smile. “That’s why I have you and your alliances with demons. I need not worry about the support of allies when my enemies tremble before forces they can barely comprehend.”

Morwen did not relent, her gaze hardening as she responded, “We are also confronting the meditators, and they are no ordinary enemy. Their influence can alter reality in ways even your demons cannot foresee.”

Petrovsky leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and satisfaction. “Thanks to Witberg and Oldgin, we have already located the first meditator. I want you to travel to Jupiter and plan the operation against him with Oldgin; he and all his associates will be eliminated, and then, not even the gods will be able to stop us.”

“It has to be done within six months.”

“I give you three. But first, I want you to anoint me before the galaxy as Emperor.”

The conversation left a palpable tension in the air, but Petrovsky was confident of his victory, relying on his alliance with Lilith Morwen, Venusian leader of Historical Spiritualism, a sect inspired and funded by Petrovsky’s political party, Neosocialism. Historical Spiritualism amalgamated various heterodox beliefs and was at the zenith of its influence when Petrovsky proposed its support in his plan to secure his eternal power over Saturn.

Morwen, infamous for her crimes against humanity such as using children as human shields for antimatter weapon traffickers, had managed to evade all charges and emerged not only unscathed but also multimillionaire, thanks to the rigged intergalactic human rights committees, whose rulings were then sold to the highest bidder.

How had Morwen escaped punishment, sued the State, and been rewarded with millions in credits? Her strategy: to portray herself as a victim and cover up her atrocious acts against the now-extinct Saturnian middle class with sweet words. Before her judges, she argued that her kidnappings were acts of love, extorting the plutocrats who exploited the poor overseeing the robots with meager wages. Morwen justified the murders as mistakes, confusing the victims with the criminals. As for the money from the underworld, she attributed it to her peculiar love and compassion for the criminal world, a twisted form of fighting for honesty, life, and peace.

How long would Morwen continue to evade justice? That was the question on many minds, hoping that someday the truth would come to light and the witch of the intergalactic witchcraft committee would pay for her crimes.

Physically, Morwen was a striking figure. Tall and slender, she moved with an ethereal grace, her movements deliberate and elegant. Her long, flowing robes, adorned with intricate symbols and mystical seals, trailed behind her like an intimidatingly alive altar that resonated with her dozens of earrings, necklaces, and bracelets made of silver, gold, and titanium. Her image contrasted with her actions. A woman who preached love and peace while perpetrating massacres. An angelic figure hiding the soul of the sacred priests who sacrificed Jesus, the Messiah she did not hesitate to cite as her greatest inspiration. Such hypocrisy was reflected in her face, which, despite being covered in makeup, resembled more of a skull than a fifty-year-old woman; her skin was like parchment translucent to her bones and her smile a macabre manifesto of her mortal sins.

Her charisma and ability to manipulate public opinion made her untouchable. The throngs of sycophants in her service, pseudo-intellectuals and artists who derided truth and good as a “subjective” discourse serving only the most cunning oppressor, adored her as “The Greatest Victim,” “the martyr of the forgiveness of crime and impunity,” ignoring the irrefutable evidence of her crimes, and disregarding the masses of injured and dead crying out for justice.

Morwen’s penetrating eyes, the color of stormy seas, had driven several of her enemies mad who had dared to confront her, earning her the nickname “Medusa.” Her voice, rich and melodious, demanded attention, resonating with an authority born from years of spiritual exploration in the hells.

Despite her serene exterior, there was an intensity in Morwen that belied her calm behavior. She possessed a fierce intellect and an unrelenting determination to achieve her goals, regardless of the cost. Behind her enigmatic smile lay a mind sharp as a dagger, capable of piercing the veil of reality to glimpse the truths that lay beyond.