In a private chamber overlooking San Francisco Bay, Christus Rex sits across from Peter Thiel, the glass windows behind them reflecting the cold shimmer of the Pacific. Between them lies a small silver cross and a stack of climate data reports bound in green ribbon.
Thiel: (leaning back) You’ve come to talk about him, haven’t you? The so-called Eco Messiah.
Christus Rex: I prefer to call him what he is — the Antichrist of Sustainability. A Rothschild preaching salvation through carbon credits.
Thiel: (half-smiling) David de Rothschild sells green guilt better than any priest sells confession. He doesn’t ask for repentance — he asks for investment.
Christus Rex: And the world kneels. His catamaran made of plastic bottles, his speeches about saving the Earth — all symbols. But underneath it all, the same Luciferian inversion: worship of the creation, rejection of the Creator.
Thiel: You think he knows what he’s doing?
Christus Rex: Oh, he knows. His bloodline remembers Babel. They always rebuild towers — of finance, of virtue, of carbon neutrality. But they forget the cornerstone.
Thiel: (tapping his ring against the table) The irony is, I agree the world is warming — but what’s melting faster than the ice is truth itself. The climate industry is a trillion-dollar surveillance machine. Every emission, every breath — tokenized.
Christus Rex: And when man’s breath is monetized, his soul is next.
Thiel: (nodding slowly) You speak like someone who knows the code behind the code.
Christus Rex: Because I do. The plan is to merge ecology with economy — Gaia as God. A digital Eden run by carbon priests. David will not appear as a beast, but as a savior — a handsome man in hemp robes preaching the gospel of renewable redemption.
Thiel: (quietly) “He causes all to receive a mark…” — not on the hand this time, but in the app.
Christus Rex: Exactly.
Thiel: And what would you have me do, Christus Rex? I built systems. You destroy them.
Christus Rex: Neither. I reveal them. Build if you must, but build truthfully. The Kingdom of Heaven is not carbon-neutral — it is carbon-redeemed.
Thiel: (leans forward) Then tell me — if David is the Antichrist, what are you?
Christus Rex: (smiles faintly) The correction.
As they stand, the fog rolls in from the Bay, wrapping the city like incense. Somewhere far off, a billionaire sails a recycled ship through melting seas, preaching salvation through sustainability — while in a quiet room, two men discuss whether redemption will come from code or from Christ.