If Cardinal Perolin steps out on the balcony as Pope Francis II, I will go into a long solitude of mourning to weather the next tsunami. It will be an ecclesiastical horror show. We will be in the life-threatening, scorching heat of Death Valley. The faithful will retreat deeper into caves, or rather driven deeper there. The land will darken, and the armies of Mordor will march upon us. Only the brave will survive.
On the other hand, one can pray for a miracle. If Cardinal Sarah appears on the balcony as Pope Pius XIII, I will roast a pig on the front lawn, sing from the rooftops, and do one hundred somersaults for the poor souls in purgatory. It would mean Divine Mercy and rejuvenation. Like being backed up for twelve years, 2013-2025, suddenly able to evacuate your bowels with a deep sigh of relief and freedom. I will feel so light that I will literally start levitating off the ground. All will grow solemn and calm as a black Pope Pius XIII occupies the Chair of St. Peter, widely known for his saintliness. Just imagine that.
We find out soon.