An Angel on My Shoulder

by David Callinan

  “If you want my opinion,” began Malone and Paul could almost hear the response word for word. In any event, when Malone next spoke it proved that he had not lost his ability to surprise.

  “If you are looking for new areas for development think of energy and medicines from plants,” he said.

  “Go on,” said Paul, immediately curious.

  “Biochemists are only now starting to understand the processes by which plants generate all kinds of remedies, ingredients and sources of energy,” he explained. “Think back to grandma picking her medicinal herbs. We are only now starting to understand the science behind these plants. They’re using mustard oil now as a lubricant, for instance. Pharmaceutical companies have used natural plant remedies as sources of powerful drugs but these have had too many side effects. There will be a time coming when we could get ten or fifteen percent of our energy directly from growing plants in fields. There is a new and environmentally benign business here, not to mention a new breed of cosmetics and food sources.”

  “And you say you have no interest in business,” smiled Paul.

  “I like to keep up with things,” mused Malone. “You would need new algorithms to produce even neural network solutions to the management and processing of these diverse plants – maybe even genetically modified in controlled environments.”

  “Neural networks eh? You have been doing your homework.”

  “Problem is, as you well know, they are hard to control and operate in ways we don’t even understand.”

  “That’s true right now,” said Paul.

  “See,” said Malone, “there is no real difference between the contemplation of neural networks and the contemplation of the third eye. They both represent mysteries that cannot fully be explained. And yet one is seen as being the province of the Loony Tunes brigade and the other of respectable scientists.”

  Paul sensed a shiver starting at the top of his head and shimmying down to his toes. He also felt a distinct rumbling deep inside the pressure points that he now called, with some dry amusement, his angel and demon organs. Unwittingly, Malone had said something that had caused a distinct vibration, or an impulse, to arise and Paul knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was prophetic.

  He had a clear awareness of the presence within him of the angel group and the dark force, much as he had done at certain times during the past couple of years. Everyday living tended to bury such awareness but Paul knew that this would not always be the case. Right now they remained dormant, like breath condensing on a cold glass surface. He knew that the preparatory processes were taking place albeit slowly.

  “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” said Malone pouring the last of the wine into their glasses, “or an angel.” He laughed hoarsely.

  Paul took a deep breath as the feeling passed. Normality was, indeed, just like the mystics and the esoteric scientists had always said it was. Everyday existence was like being wrapped in dense cotton wool, unable to break free into the light of real experience. When odd flashes did happen, they were or could be frightening.

  “No, it’s just the surprise of hearing you talking about neural networks,” Paul said. He stood up.

  “Off again,” said Malone with heavy irony. “Back to your domestic chains.”

  “It’s not like that,” retorted Paul. “I’m flying out to Greece tomorrow. I have a lot to do.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you. Raise it at the conference. They’ll think you’re a genius.”

  Paul found airports tedious. The long wait, the overpriced food, the temptation to sit in the bar and drink too much were all aspects he disliked.

  So he was relieved when he found himself in a legroom seat by the exit. It was a busy flight. He noticed a tall man with sandy hair at the far end, making his way down checking out seats. Paul’s telepathic antenna was obviously getting stronger because he knew, without question, that this man would be his flight companion in the seat next to him.

  Sure enough, the man stopped, checked his seat number, nodded in a friendly fashion to Paul and stowed his jacket in the locker before settling himself down.

  They were several hours into the flight and had just eaten an undistinguished airline meal. Paul began to doze then woke with a start as he noticed a figure at the far end of the plane near the cockpit.

  Like most air travellers, Paul was partly sensitized to the prospect of a terrorist attack. The man at the far end of the plane looked Middle Eastern. Other passengers and the cabin crew walked past him as though he wasn’t there. The man was staring directly at Paul and he felt a tinge of fear turning into a feeling of impending panic. As Paul watched, a stewardess appeared to walk at the side of the figure carrying a tray of hot towels. She noticed nothing, as if the man did not exist.

  Paul watched as the man turned and entered the captain’s cockpit. Fear swept up in waves, hitting Paul directly in the solar plexus. His mind was filled with a sudden conviction that the plane was going down.

  At that moment the plane shuddered. A dull thudding sound could be heard from the cockpit. Only Paul appeared to notice. Only he appeared to be aware of what was happening in front of their eyes.

  The plane lurched and the cabin lights went out. Then the aircraft suddenly dived and Paul was thrown forward against his seat belt. Panic was now setting in big time. Paul looked up, waiting for the oxygen mask to descend. Nothing. He waited for the emergency lighting to switch on. No lights. The temperature in the cabin plunged as though they had entered a frozen ice tunnel. Paul began to shout. People had to be warned. Didn’t they realize? Waves of barbed wire-like prickles began to surge along his body and he was convinced that he was about to die. What price destiny? What price prophecy? Where were the angels when you needed them? He screamed and blackness enveloped him.

  “Hey, old buddy. You okay?”

  Paul’s neighbor was looking at him with concern. A number of nearby passengers were also watching him. Some were smiling. A man had woken up from a bad dream that was all.

  A passing stewardess checked on him. Did he want some water? Paul was acutely embarrassed and smiled to reassure her he was fine. It was just a dream. He looked along to the cockpit and there was no figure. The airplane was flying smoothly. All was normal.

  “You gave me quite a fright,” said the sandy haired man in the seat next to him.

  “Sorry about that,” Paul apologized. “Must have been a bad dream. Hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself.”

  “No,” the man told him. “You didn’t make too much noise. Just jumped a mile in the air.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. We all have strange dreams sometimes.” He took a business card from the top pocket of his shirt. Noticing, Paul did likewise. The least he could do was be sociable.

  “Alec.” He handed Paul his card. “Alec Dreyfus.”

  They exchanged cards. “Paul…”

  “Coffee gentlemen?” The steward interrupted him and hovered close in holding his coffee mug. Paul and Alec both took some coffee and Alec studied Paul’s card.

  “IT systems,” he commented. “I’m in the same kind of field. Neural networks and robotics.”

  “Don’t tell me,” said Paul. “You’re not…”

  “Attending the Next Century IT conference?” He seemed to know exactly what Paul was about to say. “Yes, I am. You too, obviously.”

  “Yes. What a coincidence.”

  “That’s if you believe in coincidence.”

  “Well, you might be right.”

  “For instance,” Alec seemed momentarily hesitant.

  “Go on,” encouraged Paul.

  “Look, we’ve only just met. What I was about to say might strike you as completely out of left field, especially for a hard headed scientific type.”

  “Oh, I think I can take on board just about anything. You mentioned coincidence?”

  “It was your dream, or your nightmare just now, that jogged my memory.”

  �
��Yes?”

  “Some time ago I had a dream. This is going to sound crazy and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “Believe me, nothing you can say about dreams would give me the wrong idea.”

  “Okay, I dreamed this meeting, on this plane, with a guy called Paul who looked like you.”

  Paul said nothing for a moment.

  “You must think it sounds stupid,” laughed Alec. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

  “No,” replied Paul. “I believe you.”

  “You do? I thought nothing of it at the time. It was an odd dream, not like any other I’ve ever had. It was like I was really here and you were really there in that seat. I didn’t recognize you when I first sat down. You were just another businessman on a plane.”

  “So you think it was prophetic?”

  “I guess that’s what I’m saying. And I don’t normally subscribe to that kind of thing.”

  “What happened in the dream?”

  “All I can remember is that we talked and talked and it’s like I was here in order to give you information and ideas of my own for some very important purpose.”

  “You’ve no idea what the purpose was?”

  “No, all I can say is that the impression I received was that it was of major importance. It’s funny, the dream was some time ago but I’ve never forgotten it. I can’t remember the details but the general memory of the dream has been with me ever since. Talking to you now brings it back fresh as a daisy. And I usually forget my dreams like most people.”

  Paul experienced the now familiar shiver deep inside. Was this a recognition signal?

  The captain’s voice crackled from the intercom announcing they were a few minutes from landing at Athens.

  Alec said: “I don’t want to scare you but I must tell you that the general atmosphere of my dream did contain serious danger. I just have this lingering impression. “

  “I believe you,” said Paul. “Are you staying at the Divani Acropolis?”

  “Sure am. That’s where the conference takes place, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. We can share a cab.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The quantum effect

  It seemed a lifetime ago since Paul had visited the Greek capital. He and Kate had been so much in love. He remembered arriving late and stumbling arm-in-arm with Kate through the cobbled streets that led from Syndagma Square into the pulsating clamor of the Plaka.

  Both he and Alec were subdued during the taxi ride from the airport. Paul was pondering the significance of Alec’s dream and soaking in the sights and the raucous sounds of Athens street life.

  The Divani Acropolis was a comfortable hotel in a street called Parthenenos, just down the hill from the Acropolis. As delegates to the conference Paul and Alec queued to register and both men talked to others and to some familiar faces. As Paul headed for the elevator he turned and saw Alec in conversation with a long-haired, untidily dressed man. Alec looked up and mimicked eating.

  “How about dinner?” he called over.

  “Fine,” Paul called back. “See you in the bar around seven?”

  Alec made a thumbs-up sign and Paul continued on his way. There was something here, he knew it. Something about this situation brought back memories he had hoped he had buried for good.

  The bars and lobby of the hotel were crowded. Paul booked a table for two for dinner then found Alec in the bar, already sipping a martini. Paul ordered a beer and, by mutual agreement, they found comfortable chairs in a quiet part of the lounge.

  “So, what is your particular field?” Paul began.

  “I advise on the use of neural networks for complex repetitive processes. At least, that’s how I earn a living. I edit a newsletter which circulates worldwide.”

  “And you are interested in looking at new applications?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Ever thought about the increased use of plants to generate power?”

  “That’s interesting. Are you involved?”

  “No, it’s just something someone mentioned to me.”

  “There are significant pockets of money around for really innovative ideas that show some real signs of making an impact,” said Alec. “I like that. That’s got me thinking.”

  “You mentioned having a dream,” said Paul.

  Alec looked down at his drink.

  “I didn’t want to sound as if I was on the cusp of sanity,” he said. “And I didn’t know how you’d react. You might have taken it completely the wrong way.”

  “No, I’m interested,” said Paul.

  “Well, I’m no great believer in second sight or predestination, although for other reasons I am starting to alter my opinion on that subject. The dream kind of ties in with one of my pet mental and spiritual hobbies and is, I know, connected in some way.”

  “Spiritual, and you a scientist?”

  “Call me crazy. Many people, including my wife, do just that. I’m one of the theory of everything brigade. I just think there must be some point where scientific rigor and, what might be called, serious metaphysics join forces and are involved together with an explanation for human life and life in other dimensions. This is usually when people’s eyes glaze over.” Alec called a waiter and ordered more drinks.

  “I’m not one of them,” Paul told him feeling once again the deep internal tremor of his newly sensitized angel organ. “Give me an overview.”

  Alec laughed. “How much time do you have? We could spend the whole three day conference discussing it.”

  “Try me,” said Paul.

  “What has science told us?” Alec began. “Physics has identified large scale galaxies at one end and at the other finer and finer particles at the proton level. What is our connection with the universe? Well, most of our atoms were created inside a supernova explosion. Human beings believe they function purely at the biological level and philosophy has failed to grasp how scientific knowledge can sit side by side with metaphysics; and religions worldwide have failed to answer fundamental questions satisfactorily.

  “We are faced with drastic changes in our physical condition given global warming and we still can’t stop destroying both ourselves in pointless wars as well as our own environment. So there needs to be a fundamental shift in the way we think. The extralogical or transcendental argument is to step beyond the cycle of mania and depression, war and peace, birth and death and embrace a kind of poetic algorithm for action and for clear thinking. We have to allow quantum explanation into our minds so our neural networks can be reconnected to mirror new revelations.

  “Now, this may all be nonsense. Most conventional thinkers will dismiss it as pseudo scientific psychobabble. I’m not claiming I have all the answers.”

  Drinks had been served and drunk as Alec was talking. Paul was so profoundly engrossed that he jumped when the maitre d’ approached to tell them their table was ready.

  When they had settled down and ordered food and wine, Paul was determined to pursue this train of thought.

  “How do we achieve this? What’s the starting point?” he asked Alec.

  “You probably have to understand the historical development of quantum mechanics before you can take it further.”

  “Go on,” Paul urged him.

  “We came from a quark-lepton fireball in atom and molecule form. But where did mind come from? Is it an epiphenomenon of the brain as science thinks it is? How could consciousness appear from a physical biological conglomeration? Our fundamental dilemma surrounds existence, what is it? And death.”

  “Most people don’t think about death,” said Paul. “They are materialistic.”

  “Materialism is outdated,” said Alec. “A true theory of everything needs to be based on quantum theory. We go back to Max Planck in 1900 when he discovered he could account for the observed distribution of frequencies by making the assumption that energy exchange between matter and radiation takes place by way of a discrete ind
ivisible quantum of radiation whose energy is directly proportional to the frequency of the radiation. This was called Planck’s Constant.

  “Later there was Einstein and Rutherford then Niels Bohr all basing some of their work on this ad hoc hypothesis. It wasn’t till Lewis de Broglie and his wave-like properties of matter that was counter analagous to Einstein’s proposal that light has particle-like properties.”

  Their first course was served. Paul was gripped by the conviction that somewhere in this cook’s tour of quantum scientific thought there would be a connection to his destiny – a destiny that he more and more was coming to accept as real.

  “And then?” Paul asked.

  Alec was clearly enthused and spoke while chomping his way through a Caesar salad.

  “People like Schrödinger, Max Born and Heisenberg pursued these theories more deeply and the latter came up with the famous uncertainty principle. This was when Schrödinger showed that Heisenberg’s matrix mechanics and his own wave mechanics were equivalent theories and they became known as quantum mechanics. This has profoundly altered the way we look at the physical world.”

  “I think I’m following you,” smiled Paul. Alec was now well into his stride.

  “It’s the uncertainty principle that set the ball rolling,” he enthused. “Physical quantities represented by non-commuting matrices, such as position and momentum, cannot both at once be measured exactly, but simultaneously specified up to a certain limit equal to Planck’s Constant.

  “I’m cutting the history and development stuff short here, Paul. Fundamentally, mass is a form of energy and energy is complementary to time. Therefore you can’t have concepts of material reality and the passage of time applied together without serious problems. The quantum state is a different order of reality…”

  “Or existence,” Paul interrupted.

  “Sure, or existence. I can’t see the difference actually. Look at it this way. Consider some object behind your head. You assume it to be the thing you observed a moment ago. But, it will have now interacted with something which itself was in a superposed noumenal state and this puts the object into the same state too, hence you are in a state of relative ignorance about it. The thing is not known for sure nor is it even something definite. It’s not phenomenal: it’s entirely noumenal. Turn round, look at it, there it is, entirely phenomenal.