by Neovictorian
13. 13 years ago, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California January 27, 2:10 pm
“I spoke to Karina about you, briefly, a few weeks ago Cal. She was to set up this meeting and assess your current capabilities. I haven’t spoken to her since, so would appreciate if you would fill me in on what she has already told, or showed, you.”
Since I anticipated this question and prepared I’m sure my face and body don’t show the slightest flicker of reaction. I consider whether this is just a different kind of test: How talkative is the candidate? Does he like the sound of his own voice a great deal? Does he brag to strangers about private matters to increase himself in their eyes? If “Yes,” restrict the amount of information given until further evaluation…
“She explained that it is a kind of distributed network of selected individuals, trying to create good in the world. She indicated that there is an action component, that it’s not just some kind of discussion club. She gave me the general outline of the organization—it’s like there isn’t one. No leader or leaders, no written rules or books, no org chart. And no name, though she indicated different “members” if that’s what they, we, are, call it what they like.”
His face still has that touch of gaiety from laughing about fried chicken. “A very good summary, Cal, and very careful, too, which I appreciate. I’m sure there was somewhat more to it than that, however.”
He smiles, stands up and heads toward the desk.
“I’m going to have some tea. Can I get you a cup?”
“Yes, thanks.”
There’s a silver pot on the shelf behind his desk and it’s already steeped, he pours and brings me a cup on a saucer, the thinnest and best kind of porcelain.
“You can tell me more about what Karina may have communicated to you later. Also I really look forward to learning more about you personally, what are your goals and interests, that sort of thing. But of course you have a great curiosity about this group that we are a part of. So, history first.
“I call it simply, The Network. I know Karina has her own pet name for it, which she may or may not have shared with you. She really has a lovely sense of humor.
“In 1945, the greatest concentration of human intelligence our planet had yet seen in one place was at…” He winks slyly at me.
“Los Alamos,” I say.
“Of course,” he says. “The reason I ask is that I don’t like to talk for long periods without hearing another voice. So I will break up my monologue with questions. Thank you for playing along.
“Everyone knows the scientists that were there: Feynman, Oppenheimer, Fermi, Bethe…Fuchs.” He chuckles at his own joke.
“The physicists, chemists and engineers spent many hours together, and as the prospect of successful development drew closer, they began to talk more about the implications of the bomb and the post-war world. A handful became activists, even before Trinity, arguing strongly to their superiors for not using the bomb militarily, for not even testing it. Some truly believed in the possibility that the explosion could trigger world catastrophe, in and of itself. Some visualized the nuclear arms race and were appalled.
“None of this is a secret in the slightest—every book about the war, the project, the biographies of the scientists, discusses these issues. However, there were a few men there who, like chess grandmasters, saw a move or two farther than the others. They knew the bomb would work, that it would be used, that the Soviet Union would eventually get it, perhaps in ten years, perhaps in five. They didn’t know, yet, about the spies among them. But any intelligent person would have known that once proven to work, other great minds would not rest until they had solved the mysteries of how and why. It’s in our human nature.
“So five of the men at Los Alamos decided, informally but in utter secrecy, that they would do everything they could, cooperating together, to ensure that the Soviet system would not ‘win’ All of them were fully apprised of Stalin’s nature, of planned famine and starvation and brutality. Of breaking eggs to make omelets. Most especially of the Soviet secret police, of Stalin’s man Beria.
“What do you know of Beria, Cal?”
“He tortured people in ways that are hard to even comprehend. He shot hundreds, thousands, in the head, after torturing them. He…he raped children. He liked it.”
He looks at me carefully, calmly. “You know so much more than most, of course. Do they teach these things in high school history? Very few outside the Soviet Union knew then—or wanted to know. It is to your credit that you hesitate to think too long on these things.
“So the Five swore to each other and to an unknowing world that they would use all of the intellect, skill and talent that they had to destroy the horror that was the Soviet Union, and to prevent the spread of its plague to other peoples. They knew there would be United States and European official government organizations, security services and armed forces dedicated to doing the same, but they believed that a small force of the best minds, working completely unnoticed, unimagined, could get results far greater than its numbers would indicate.
“Shortly before the Germans surrendered, they carefully and quietly recruited a very few others, a man who was going to Europe to help capture German scientists and nuclear technology, another who was high in the command of the group that had broken enemy codes during the war, another who was a military leader of the Manhattan Project and would remain in the Army after the war.
“And, here we are.” He smiles thinly.
“So for now we’ll just skip over the next seventy-some years, eh Henry?” I smile back. “I love your sense of humor. Well, the Soviet Union fell in 1990, so I guess you could say the thing has succeeded. I calculate that some of them were even still alive to enjoy it.
“Given what you’ve told me so far, what I know about history and science, I believe I could give you a short list of possible names of the Five, as you call them. Given the descriptions of the first recruits, I could make some very educated guesses about their names, too. So are you allowed to tell me who they were?”
“It’s up to me to decide that, Cal. My mentors did not tell me any names for several years. In a way, the names are not all that important, but of course for someone of your knowledge and interests, they would be intriguing. Here’s my offer: You give me one name, your best estimate of the most likely candidate of all, and I’ll tell you whether you are correct, whether he was one of them. At any rate, I’ll save the rest for a later, more appropriate day.”
“All right Henry.”
I look him in the eye with that same look he has been giving me, total interest, total concentration on here and now, I want to read his reactions, the tiniest movement of face, hands, body, his tone and especially his eye movements. I narrow my focus down like a microscope, until he’s the only object in my vision.
“von Neumann,” I say. His head nods, the barest fraction of an inch.
“Yes,” he says. “Well done.”
And I know it’s the truth, and knowing John von Neumann helped found this thing, whatever exactly it is, makes me honored to be a part of it.
14. 13 years ago, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California January 27, 2:26 pm
“So, now that we’ve had our history for the day, Cal, I’m going to outline some prospects for you, make some suggestions. To follow them, or not, is again entirely up to you,” Henry Lee says.
“I want to emphasize this again. Everything we do is voluntary, everything you do will be of your own free will.”
“Yes Henry, you and Karina and the other gentleman who briefed me have been clear,” I say. “But I hope you’ll indulge me with just a bit more history. The organization, if that’s the right term, has obviously evolved, ‘morphed’ might be the word I want. I’ve been told, straight up, that individuals within it have killed, and been killed. The Soviets are gone, even if the KGB seems to be running the Russian government.
“So what’s going on right now, Henry? The 1945 Los Alamos part fascinated me,
admittedly. But some things changed along the way to today. For example, why have the three I’ve met so far been such excellent physical specimens? I’ll not overgeneralize from three examples, but each of you has been extraordinarily fit, strong, highly intelligent—obvious genetic superstars. Founded by scientists, engineers, technical wizards, okay, but now, what do I really know?”
I pause, wanting to say this just right, and he waits patiently, instead of filling in the silence.
“Have you read Stranger in a Strange Land, Henry?”
“Certainly.”
“There’s a concept I learned from it, it wasn’t original with Heinlein of course, but it’s where I first read it: The Outer Church and the Inner Church. It’s universal, everyone from the Greeks and their Mysteries to the Templars and the Masons and the German dueling societies and the Ivy League fraternities use some variation on it. I believe this thing of ours works in a similar way.”
He looks at me calmly for a few seconds, not offended or annoyed at the question, but calculating. I sense he’s making an important decision.
Then he smiles and nods.
“You’re perhaps the best informed 18-year-old I’ve ever met, Cal. One other was close. I, myself, didn’t ask these sorts of questions until perhaps a year after I was recruited. Through the act of asking, you’ve proven you’re ready to receive something more than I originally planned, so mote it be.
“One of the things we don’t reveal, that none of us actually know, are the names of all the ‘members’ of the organization, if that’s what we are, nor do we reveal the names of all the historical members. The original Five began this almost unconsciously, as a simple matter of operational security. Did you learn of the Communist use of ‘cells’ as a security measure from a Heinlein book as well?”
“I believe I did.”
“This is even better than the cells, because it’s completely unplanned, spontaneous order, there are no written records, no central command, nothing that an opponent can put a finger on. I noted that you didn’t give me the name of the other person who briefed you, I deduce he must have been the first. Gave you a very sketchy and mysterious outline, no doubt. So why didn’t you tell me his name?’
“I…just felt it was the right thing to do,” I say.
He smiles and nods again. “Exactly. It was exactly the right thing to do. Now, as to the ‘inner and outer church; do you know what the ‘Jedburghs’ were?”
It takes me a second to call it up. “They were something like special paratroops, dropped into Europe in World War II, right? Behind enemy lines, saboteurs.”
“Essentially right, Cal. There were a few hundred of them, and mostly they rallied the resistance, got them weapons and supplies. And blew up German material and Germans when they could get away with it. They were an amazing group of men. Naturally, after the war quite a number of them went to work for British and American intelligence organizations. More than one became Director of one of these organizations. In late 1945, someone recruited three of them, the right three, into our little club.”
He laughs. “They became the first “operators” the organization had as members, as assets. It wasn’t meant to be just a group of scientists and academics, it turned out.
“It wasn’t exactly an inner and outer church situation Cal, it was more just different branches. Gradually, those lines blurred, as well. These days there are a number of us who are both—scientists and engineers who also have an operational capability. The overarching mission has also grown, evolved. As you say the Soviets, at least in name, went away many years ago.
“I don’t yet know if you will be both a scientist and an operator, Cal. That will be up to you, the choices you make. But you have it in you to do so.”
He pauses for a long time, his eyes looking somewhere else.
“Even as early as 1946, a number of us began to use what power and knowledge and expertise we had on a second track, Cal—to send men into space, to colonize the rest of this solar system, and eventually beyond. A number of the best minds we could find were needed to work in the background, to make this happen, to help prod and push and steer.
“Your writer Robert Heinlein was first contacted in 1946. He had his doubts and reservations about the organization, but agreed with our aims. He committed in late 1947.”
“Well…you’ve really surprised me—again. He’s a big influence on my whole world view, how a man conducts himself.”
He nods. “He considered that to be his great work in life. So a magic circle has been closed. Now, you’re a step into the inner church, a few steps. Are you ready for that advice from a wise old man?”
15. 13 years ago, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California January 27, 3:13 pm
“So those are my suggestions for some directions to consider,” Henry says. “You shouldn’t spend too much time on anything but your engineering education for the next three years, or likely five. Of course you’ll probably want to get into a Masters’ program. Though even that’s not strictly required, for what you want to do.”
He looks up, at the future, lowers his eyes again to mine. “I don’t see you sitting in the library until you’re 30 to get a Ph.D.,” he says. “I may turn out to be wrong, but I think not. I’m rarely wrong. You’re going to want to be out leaving a mark long before that.”
“I think so, too,” I agree. “Sometimes I feel something rising in me like the serpent up the spine, the kundalini thing. I don’t believe in the chakras and all that, of course. But I felt this before I ever read any books on the subject. Life energy. It’s not just some Eastern mumbo jumbo. And I need to use it.”
“Yes,” he says. “Perhaps, it’s not scientific to name the thing, and believe that in naming it, it becomes…but none the less, it’s real.” He gets out of his chair, walks to the big window and raises the shade. Sunlight too painful to see floods the room and my eyelids instinctively half-close. Standing in front of the window he’s just a shadow, a black shape whose upper half is outlined by a white halo that shifts and wavers with his breathing.
The shape speaks. “Some of us, Cal, have learned how to share this with others. The startling thing is that in sharing we don’t lose it, we gain. Like love, it is not a limited resource, a commodity to be saved and hoarded and traded.”
He moves out of the stream of sunlight and my pupils can’t dilate fast enough to prevent him from being a gray ghost for a second, a wraith moving behind the desk and pouring itself another cup of tea.
“Share it just as it was shared with you,” he says, and I wonder how much he knows, about Karina and me. Well, he knows her, now he knows me, and he’s a fucking genius.
“There are many lovely women around this campus,” he says and I blink a couple of times and he looks human again as he sits back down. “There are many intelligent women. The intersection of the sets is quite large.
“I advise you to wait to have children until your late twenties. Then, you simply must have several. You are the product of millions of generations of reproduction—every one of your ancestors, all the way back to the cells floating in the early ocean, did one thing beautifully; they reproduced.”
He looks up at the wall above my head for a second. “I have four myself.”
He looks back down, into my eyes, and the intensity is there again. “Until then I suggest you exchange this energy with the right women. The funny thing is that of all the pretty bodies and well-formed minds around, only perhaps one in twenty, if that, is the right woman to receive what you have to give.
“You’ll do as you will, of course. But give it due consideration.”
He smiles. “I’ve talked enough for one day, more than I’ve talked in any day for at least a year,” he says. “But one more thing, a thing that you already know. When you feel the urge to share of yourself, when the blood is like liquid fire, look her in the eyes, look at every muscle of her face, and you’ll know. You’ll know.”
He stands and I do, too. He turns, wal
ks over to the desk and picks up a card. I follow and he hands it too me. There’s nothing on it but a phone number.
“I hope to go out with you for some fried chicken in the next few days, Cal. So you’d better start the research on that right away.”
16. 12 years ago, Black Rock Desert, Washoe County, Nevada May 30, 6:37 pm
James shoves his hand deep into his pack and pulls out the baggy. The sun’s just gone down behind the peak to the west, and in the dusky pink it’s not clear by sight what’s in the bag, but I know and I feel that thrill or frisson like the time I stood on the edge of a cliff and thought about what it would be like to jump, not the death at the end but the ride, the wind and the blood-rush and the sights. It’s already cooling from 95 in the shade, the sweat on the back of my neck is cooling too but the rest of me is fired. I can hear my heart in my ears, James looks me in the eyes, those cold grey eyes of his, and he smiles a little knowing smile, he gets it. He’s got a thick blond beard now, and his arms look carved from stone.
~
Until two days ago I haven’t seen James in over a year, since I went to Stanford and he went to Somewhere, said he was taking a “gap year” with a look on his face that I grokked, that meant he had something occult in mind, something different. He’d got accepted at Yale, he’d been planning on going, he’d said he was changing plans, dropped by my house, my parents were there so he and I went out in the back yard and sat at the wood picnic table and he told me he would be gone “for a while.” I asked him where? And he just grinned and said “I’ll let you know when I can.” And that was it, he said “Gotta go” and he put his hand on the point of my shoulder and pressed his thumb in and stared at my eyes, his face a little closer than normal.
“I’ll talk to you when the time’s right, man,” he said, and he turned and walked out the gate, not looking back. My shoulder was vibrating, like some low voltage was running through, but after a few seconds it stopped and I went back inside.