But evolution hadn’t made human wiring strictly logical. Cooperation was paramount to survival. So people were hardwired to punish those they didn’t think were being fair. Yes, they were losing thirty dollars, but they were punishing the unfair party by making him lose seventy dollars. An imbecilic decision economically. Totally irrational. But part of the fabric of many people.
Craft continued. “Given our current tax code in the US, if we lowered taxes, everyone would be better off. There is an enormous body of evidence from around the world to support this. The gap between the rich and the poor actually gets wider when taxes are raised, and shrinks when taxes are lowered. This is counterintuitive. And many people refuse to believe the data, because their hearts tell them it can’t be true. It’s the ultimatum game all over again.
“So on one side they wave accurate data saying everyone is better off, and it’s a proven fact—and they’re right. And on the other side, they refuse to even consider that this is correct. And even those willing to acknowledge the accuracy of the data don’t care. It still isn’t fair.
“The people giving up thirty dollars knew that thirty was greater than zero. That they’d be better off letting the offering party keep their seventy. They just didn’t care.”
Alyssa couldn’t argue the point. Even worse, people suffered from something called Confirmation Bias, which had been demonstrated time and again in numerous experiments. Once we formed an opinion or took a position, be it in politics, the worthiness of a television show, or global warming, we tended to filter new data, seizing on anything that agreed with our position and dismissing or ignoring anything contrary, no matter how valid. We would cling to our positions, even in the face of what should be incontrovertible evidence against them.
“And people like to think they’re compassionate,” said Craft. “Take the old adage: give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime. Well, it feels good to give a man a fish. You’re being generous, compassionate. Filling an immediate need.
“Teaching a man to fish, on the other hand, can be a longer, tougher process. But in the end, the gift of self-sufficiency is far greater than the gift of a single fish. You just have to find a happy middle-ground. Give a man enough fish not to starve, but don’t let him off the hook, so to speak, on learning how to do it. Even if people call you an uncompassionate monster.”
“So you would see yourself as a benign, libertarian dictator?”
“I’m not sure what you’d call it, but something like that. I’d give everyone the freedom to succeed. While directing some resources to solving the problem of using the zero point field more widely. Humans are motivated to work hard, knowing if they succeed they succeed.
“And I, and others we bring to my level, can eliminate poverty. We don’t have to say how we’re doing it, but we can make energy virtually free and unlimited. And if the world is united under my leadership, humanity would save trillions on military expenditures, which would no longer be needed.”
Craft gazed deeply into Alyssa’s brown eyes. “So what do you think?”
Alyssa had to admit he painted a nice picture. She considered her response carefully. “I agree with much of what you say,” she replied after several seconds. “And who knows, the world just might be better off with you at the helm, helping level the playing field, giving people tools, and staying out of the way.” She sighed. “But a dictatorship, benevolent or not, is still a dictatorship. I wouldn’t want to be a part of it.”
Craft’s face transformed in an instant, as surely as if he had donned a mask. His warm, thoughtful, rational eyes suddenly burned with rage and his face reddened. Alyssa found herself desperate to get away from him, knowing she had flicked his switch from sane to something else entirely.
“You are such a stupid bitch!” he thundered, and the entire house shook. “How can I expect such a moronic bitch to understand the greatness of my vision?”
Alyssa shrank back in terror.
Several large boulders visible from the balcony shattered explosively, and jagged pieces of rock shot through the air, delivering shrapnel in all directions. Two colorful birds in the distance burst into flames and then disappeared entirely seconds later.
“If you had a fucking brain in your head, you’d be dangerous!” screamed Craft, his expression insane and predatory, like a snarling, rabid wolf.
The wicker chair Alyssa was in lifted from the balcony and hovered three feet above the landing while several trees below exploded into fragments that screamed outward in all directions. Several of the dagger-sized splinters imbedded themselves into the wall mere inches from Alyssa’s head. She was too terrified to even scream.
“I should know better than to try to have an intelligent discussion with a dumb bitch like you!” he hissed in absolute rage and contempt.
Brennan Craft shot off the balcony and into the air, as Alyssa’s chair crashed to the floor once again. “You make me fucking sick!” he bellowed.
“I can’t even look at you anymore!” he added, and then streaked off into the sky as additional trees exploded beneath him.
49
Alyssa remained on the balcony as tears began streaming down her face. She had been in love with a perfect man. And now she was being forced to watch him transform into something unrecognizable. To watch him go insane.
Losing someone with whom you were falling in love was bad enough. Watching helplessly as he became a malevolent caricature of himself was even worse. She was at once heartbroken, nauseated, and terrified.
But mostly terrified.
She would be very lucky to survive him much longer.
Craft disappeared into the sunset, off to take his rage out on the local landscape and animal life.
Only weeks before she wanted nothing more than to make love to this man until the end of time. She had basked in his embrace, knowing they were barely able to keep from expressing their love for each other. Now all she felt was terror, and profound relief that he had left, even if temporarily.
She called the emergency number Eben Martin had given her, forgetting the time change and that she would be catching him in the middle of the night.
“Alyssa?” he mumbled in alarm the moment he answered, but quickly transitioned from groggy to alert. “What’s wrong?”
She began sobbing into the phone as she attempted to speak, which drove Martin nearly mad with worry. “Alyssa?” he said. “Are you okay? Where’s Brennan?”
She finally managed to get her sobbing under control. “Eben, he’s gotten worse,” she said. “I’m afraid for my life.”
There was a long pause. “I am so sorry it’s come to this,” he said finally. “Bren seems to be going in and out of rationality. During our last few conversations he’s been all over the place. Normal, wonderful, brilliant Brennan Craft, and then a raving lunatic—and back again. But I never thought you’d be in danger. Not with the way he feels about you. Did he threaten you?”
“Not with words, but with actions. He melts down and becomes consumed with rage. He curses at me. Calls me stupid. Shouts. While things explode and burst into flame. During this latest episode I barely missed being impaled by shrapnel from an exploding tree. We both know he could turn me into paste in an instant if he lost complete control.”
“We need to get you out of there,” said Martin.
Alyssa nodded vigorously as fresh tears began streaming down her face once again. “Please,” she pleaded. “Do that. Get me out of here.”
“I will. Hang in there. Humor him. Don’t do anything to set him off. I’ll think of a good excuse for you to come back to The States for awhile and book you on the first flight back. Then we can hide you from him.”
“I loved him, Eben,” she whispered. “I still love part of him.”
There was a heavy sigh at the other end of the line. “I love him, too,” replied Martin. “But he’s sick. With power, maybe. Or maybe the human mind wasn’t meant to tap into the fabric of the univers
e.”
“I feel totally helpless,” said Alyssa. “He’s losing touch with reality and becoming more and more deranged. It’s only a matter of time before he loses it permanently.”
“This is disturbingly identical to what Bren said about Omar Haddad when he began to unravel. Bren described his growing fear, his growing certainty that if Haddad wasn’t reined in, terrible things would happen. Bren’s reliving this episode in his life, but from Haddad’s side of the equation.”
Alyssa wanted to respond but more tears poured down her face, preventing her.
“Hang in there, Alyssa,” pleaded Martin, his deep concern for her welfare reflected in his tone. “You’re an incredible woman, and you can do this. Get the tears out of your system—no one could possibly blame you for them—but then pull yourself together. Do whatever you have to do to humor him. Keep him from going critical. And I’ll come up with a good excuse to pull you out of there. Just give me until morning here, okay?”
“Hurry,” said Alyssa through her tears. “Please hurry, Eben.”
50
Alyssa awoke to an empty bedroom. She had received an encrypted message from Eben Martin while she slept and quickly entered her decryption code. The message transformed itself into English:
I’m on my way there. I need to personally assess Bren and the situation on the ground. Can’t wait to see you, Alyssa. Be strong. And careful.
Relief surged through her. Eben was putting himself in greater danger by coming here, but he knew Bren better than anyone, and he was also more resourceful and competent than any person she had ever met—well, other than Bren had been only a short while before. Eben would figure out a way to defuse the situation. And find a good pretext to get her away from Bren.
Great! she typed, and then thought better of it. She knew she was being selfish. She deleted this and started again. Are you sure this is wise? You’re flying into a danger zone, she wrote, and hit send.
Three minutes later a new message arrived. If Bren becomes another Al Yad, the entire world is a danger zone. Need to have a long face-to-face before he’s too far gone. I’m confident I can reach him.
I hope you’re right, she texted. Looking forward to seeing you. And thanks.
When Alyssa entered the kitchen, Craft was reading a book on his tablet computer, but had pancake batter ready to go, along with plates, forks, syrup, butter, and chopped cheese and mushrooms, ready to construct a perfect omelet. He had taken a page from Eben’s playbook, surprising her with breakfast.
When he saw her a tear formed in the corner of his eye. “Alyssa,” he whispered. “I am so sorry about how I’ve been acting. I don’t know what’s happening to me. You mean the world to me. I can’t believe I’ve been treating you like this.”
“It’s okay, Bren,” she said, not quite able to make this sound cheerful. She had to keep him calm. To stay alive until Eben arrived to pull her out. “You’re under a lot of pressure. I really do understand.”
“I don’t,” said Craft miserably. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I might know why this is happening.”
He poured pancake batter into a skillet and turned on the burner beneath it. “I’m tapping into the zero point field around the clock. I have this second skin being generated, which is always on. I think this is just too mentally taxing.”
“And you think that’s what’s driving you . . . She stopped abruptly and searched for better phrasing. “You know, having a negative effect on your behavior?”
“I’m pretty sure of it. But I can’t shut it off,” he said. “I need a break from the field. At least while I sleep. You need sleep as much for your brain as for your body. It gives the mind a chance to reboot. If you lose too much sleep, you eventually begin to hallucinate and go mad.”
“Have you not been sleeping?” asked Alyssa with genuine concern.
“Not well. But even when I do, my brain is connected to the field. It never stops,” he said, his voice suddenly wild. “I can’t take it anymore!”
He paused for several seconds and collected himself. “But I had an idea,” he said, forcing himself to be calm again. He flipped the large pancake to its other side with a tan plastic spatula. “Remember how you told me about the nocebo effect? The remarkable results you were getting? Is it possible you could help me disconnect from the field entirely? It’s a subconscious, involuntary connection, as you know. But you said you were performing miracles stopping nervous ticks. Which are also wholly subconscious and beyond the voluntary control of your subjects.”
“Interesting idea,” whispered Alyssa, almost to herself. She tilted her head in thought. “Yes,” she said finally, her enthusiasm growing. “Why not? Given our previous results, I think the chances of success are very high.”
“Great!” said Craft. “I’ve become convinced that this is what I need to become myself again. I still need to retain my abilities to keep our Syrian friend at bay. But if I could get relief while I’m sleeping, this is all I would need. Maybe you could implant a trigger that would sever my connection to the zero point field for eight hours at a time.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re right. We did this exact thing with nervous tics. We’d just have to reinforce certain neuronal pathways with electrical stimulation and hypnosis, using the new drug from our Lawrence, Kansas lab.”
Fortunately, like the others she had selected, this drug could be delivered orally, so they didn’t have to worry about Craft’s personal body armor blocking a needle. Alyssa began to feel hopeful for the first time in weeks. Maybe she could get the man of her dreams back, after all.
She checked the current date on her phone while Craft slid a finished pancake onto a plate in front of her and began working on an omelet. “A new batch of this drug should have been completed about a week ago,” she said. “Probably just finishing up quality control. Although my lab isn’t scheduled to get any until the next batch is done.”
“How much would it take?”
“Very little.”
“What if I send you to Lawrence?” said Craft excitedly. “You could break in and get what we need. They’d never miss it.” Without waiting for a response, he added, “Will this lab accept your biometric data?”
“It would have before I met you. I don’t know about now, though.”
“It probably still will. But I can restore you no matter what. I’m sure of it. I used your security access to leave a backdoor into the system.” He paused. “Will you do it?”
She was desperate to leave, but pretended to weigh her decision. Finally, she nodded. “Absolutely,” she said.
Craft blew out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Alyssa.” He tilted his head in thought. “I’d ask Eben to meet you Stateside, but he contacted me early this morning. He’s actually on his way here. So go with Adam Turco in case there’s any trouble. Okay?”
Alyssa was swallowing a mouthful of pancake, but nodded her agreement.
“But do me a favor. Don’t mention this to Eben.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll get nervous if he knows I’ll be without my ability entirely. Even for short periods of time. He’ll think it’s too big a risk with Al Yad at large.” Craft sighed. “So, please, just humor me. This is important. You can’t mention this to Eben. Promise me.”
Alyssa noticed the intensity returning to Bren’s eyes and knew better than to challenge him further. “I promise.”
“Good. Adam will be told to follow your orders as if they were Eben’s. So I’ll have you flown directly to . . . what’s the nearest airport to Lawrence?”
“Kansas City.”
“Right. I’ll have Adam meet you in Kansas City and escort you to the lab. I’ll make sure he knows not to mention this to Eben for the time being.”
“When should I leave?”
“Immediately,” said Craft. “Or sooner. I’ll book you on the next flight. Pack a bag and I’ll take you to the airport. I’ll stay in Costa Rica to greet Eben. Unfortunately, you’ll pro
bably pass each other in the air. But with any luck, you’ll return in a day or two with what you need to help me. If I could even get a few good nights of sleep, I think I’d be myself again.”
“I’ll be ready to go in five minutes,” said Alyssa, almost gleefully. She had feared for her life and had no idea if Craft would let her out of his sight. Now she had a reason to leave immediately, blessed by him, and a chance to return him to sanity.
She quickly finished the breakfast he had prepared and retreated to the master bedroom, where she hurriedly packed a few days worth of clothing and toiletries.
When she was finished she checked to make sure Bren wasn’t in the room and then activated her phone. Great news! she texted to Eben Martin. Bren wants me Stateside. And he even recognizes that he’s losing his mind! A huge step in the right direction. I may have a way to help him through narco-hypnosis. No need for a pretext to get me away. Cancel your trip here.
A minute later her phone vibrated and she decrypted the message. That is great news! I am so relieved for you, Alyssa. But I just took off. I still need to assess Bren’s mental state and have a heart-to-heart with him. I’ll call you and let you know how it went. Have a great trip.
Alyssa thought this was the end of it, but a moment later another short message appeared. Apparently, Martin had thought of one last thing he wanted to communicate. She looked down.
But Alyssa, no matter what, don’t even think of returning unless I give you the word.
51
It had been a grueling day of travel by the time Alyssa arrived at the Kansas City International airport. It was ten at night when she met up with Adam Turco, and it was great to see a friendly and protective face.
Turco rented a car and drove her to Lawrence, home of the University of Kansas and their crimson-and-blue Jayhawks. She had spoken often with members of the Black Ops chemistry lab there, but she had never been to Kansas herself. She suspected she would find the state, on the whole, fairly flat and uninteresting, but the residents of Lawrence with whom she had spoken raved about the town, and were especially crazy for basketball.
Quantum Lens Page 28