Forensic Songs

by Mike McCormack

  ‘Yes, he’s the kiddie, the daddy. All those titles are a bit grandiose – we’re talking about a small company with around six people in it. But yes, Halloran is the man.’

  ‘Paint a picture for me, an image to work with.’

  ‘Mid-forties I’d say, shoulder-length hair and oversize shirt with a grey suit. Hard to tell if this was the natural appearance of a man who didn’t care how he looked or if it was all a careful piece of corporate, bohemian schtick. In so far as it had me wondering, it was very effective. And a ringing voice, booming away, exactly what you’d expect from a man who had thrown down a challenge to the world.’

  ‘A middle-aged X-er?’

  ‘I suppose, I never gave it that much thought.’

  ‘And this is the fella who put the famous advert in The Economist – how did he account for that?’

  ‘It was a real attention-grabber, wasn’t it?’ Halloran said with a grin. ‘The scientific community was ablaze with our name within an hour of that issue going online. But you have to understand the magnitude of our claim: a small company out of nowhere claiming to have invented a system which produces clean, renewable energy; a company which claims to have subverted the second law of thermodynamics.’

  Halloran threw up his arms in a hieratic gesture. ‘If you are making such a claim you need to make it loud and proud – so where better than the bible of the corporate world? It got people’s attention, alright.’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ I conceded. ‘But I’ve looked up all those online threads and forums, and the majority of contributors were, to put it mildly, sceptical. Most were immediately hostile to your claim.’

  ‘So they were, as we had anticipated they would be. But go back to the advert again – it wasn’t just making a revolutionary claim, it was also an invitation for scientists to step forward and validate our claim; we called for a panel of experts. And it worked in spades. We were deluged with CVs from all over the world – corporate and government-funded labs, universities and research institutes – Bell Labs, the Max Planck Institute, MIT, BNFL, Sony Industries – a Who’s Who of research facilities despatching their best brains to examine our claim. And, of course, we also had loads of interest from the energy sector – Exxon and Shell and BP, they wanted to come to the party, too. Within a week we had over three hundred CVs from all over the globe. Every one of them might have thought we were shysters but they still wanted to see for themselves. That advert was eighty grand well spent.’

  Leo nodded. ‘Eighty grand in the right place buys a lot of cred and authority. And he’s targeting a very specific audience when he puts it in The Economist. Presumably that’s why he chose a business magazine and not a scientific journal.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Halloran said. ‘We make no bones about this technology being a commercial proposition, and our need for investment capital. So the ad was placed to draw the attention of potential investors as well as the scientific community.’

  ‘And it worked?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ He swung his arm around at the bare concrete walls. ‘Looking at this you might not think so, but we are in negotiations with several potential investors.’

  I turned a new page of my notebook. Clean paper emerging with each turn always went some distance towards clearing my mind. And I needed all my wits about me in this room.

  ‘Just to backtrack a moment,’ I said. ‘Let’s try to be clear on the magnitude of your claim. From what I know, this technical challenge has defeated the greatest minds since the dawn of civilization – Archimedes, Galileo, da Vinci, Edison – all these geniuses have squared up to this challenge and every one of them has come away defeated. Ten years ago the American patents office issued an advisory that they would not entertain anyone claiming to have such an invention …’

  ‘… and now a small company with no history in this sort of technology starts jumping up and down and shouting, “Over here, over here”, and claiming to have this invention which will prove to be nothing less than epoch-making – that’s what you’re thinking?’ Halloran beckoned the question with open hands.

  ‘It’s what the whole scientific community is thinking. Your claim is to deny the second law of thermodynamics; it could hardly be more radical or extravagant.’

  ‘Yes, that is the epochal magnitude of this invention; there is no point in being diffident about it. When this technology is rolled out we can honestly talk of the world making a new start, it will be the beginning of a new era, a new history, a new calendar. At one stroke this will set aside all environmental worries, it will bridge the poverty gap – it will put cheap, limitless energy in the hands of the poorest countries, it will …’

  Leo guffawed. ‘That sermon must have sounded odd in light of the public failure of the demo.’

  ‘That speech would sound odd in any context.’

  The demo was scheduled as a live stream from the Kinetica Museum in London. When I logged on that Friday afternoon, the camera angle showed a glass cube on a plinth containing a stationary, plastic disc on a small spindle fixed between two supporting brackets. Behind the display cube a large window showed the traffic passing in a wet blur of metal and glass. A scrolling notice on the screen informed that the demonstration had been postponed due to technical reasons. I sat for a long while watching the forlorn stillness of the glass cube and I could not help thinking that it looked like the home of a domestic pet that had just died. After a few minutes, a bulky shadow drifted into shot and I watched as a cleaner swung a mop over the floor, back and forth, moving heedlessly across the screen.

  Leo leaned onto the table with both elbows. ‘Since there was no demo, I guess it technically could not be classed a failure.’

  ‘That’s Halloran’s point, too. Seemingly they hadn’t factored in the heat from the overhead lighting rig which was used to illumine the live stream. They claimed that it warped some of the components on the prototype so the demo couldn’t run.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of the Kinetica Museum.’

  ‘I had to look it up myself – it’s in London, near Spitalfields, and it’s a respected avant-garde gallery specializing in work which combines art and technology.’

  ‘Sounds like an unusual place to have a commercial demo.’

  ‘Yes, it is unusual. As a rule, new technologies are demonstrated to invited audiences of industry heads and so on, likely investors. I can’t think of another instance where a new commercial technology was demoed like this.’

  The barman left two pints on the table between us and I counted out the exact change. Leo gazed blankly at the pints and then settled back in the chair.

  ‘Suppose we take Halloran at his word for the moment, what sort of plans does he have for this technology? What sort of systems does he hope to deploy it in?’

  Halloran shook his head. ‘Cosan doesn’t see itself being involved in the production side of things. Our plan is to license it out to developers who will configure it however they want. It is fully scaleable, up or down; it can be used to drive MP3 players or power entire cities. But Cosan does not see itself involved in that end of it – we see ourselves as more research oriented.’

  ‘Halloran is really convincing on this kind of detail – he has all the ready answers and the whole scenario mapped out in his mind. And he’s not embarrassed to talk up this thing as if it were the salvation of the world. But, what’s really interesting is to hear the language he uses when he talks about it. It’s almost evangelical – he speaks of hope and faith – “We have faith in nature but we put our hope in technology” – that’s a mantra he repeated a couple of times. And there was this really surreal moment when he seemed to drift from the topic altogether and started riffing about something else entirely.’

  Halloran fell silent and lowered his chin onto his chest. The gesture was so completely off-hand, so devoid of any connection to what we had been talking about, that I knew for certain he had forgotten all about me. For a long moment his self-absorption was so complete I did not dare rouse him. B
ehind him the afternoon light deepened over the sea. Eventually, Halloran drew his hand across his face and resumed in a sombre tone.

  ‘This is all very public and that’s exactly the way I want it. I can take all the scepticism and the ridicule; I can handle all that. My biggest fear is that one morning I will come into our lab and find the whole thing smashed up, all our prototypes destroyed, all our software scrambled. That’s what I’m afraid of.’

  ‘So you’re hiding in plain sight.’

  ‘Not hiding, just hoping that being out in the open safeguards me and my work from disappearing in the middle of the night into some fucking unmarked facility without any redress.’

  ‘Some might say that’s a bit paranoid.’

  Halloran guffawed in derision.‘Do your research, for Christ’s sake. Do you have any idea how this technology cuts across the interests of some very powerful industries? Have you thought of the military applications? Do you know what they are capable of doing?’ And on that rhetorical question he drifted away once more, carried off on this sudden gust of anger.

  ‘When I heard that, I just sat there and said nothing, I couldn’t believe that his delusion ran that deep.’

  Leo shook his head. ‘In fairness, no one has disproved his claim yet so no one can rightly say that he is delusional. As far as I can make out, there are three options: he is either the real thing or a knowing fraud or …’

  ‘… an honest eejit. Yes, I know.’

  ‘So what’s your read on him?’

  ‘Oh, he’s a true believer. Once you get beyond all the bluster and the self-dramatizing you come up against a man who has complete faith in what he’s talking about.’

  ‘So his delusion is all the more complete.’

  ‘Maybe he really has hit on something.’

  ‘If he has, and it is what he says it is, then we’re talking about another Copernicus – something that big.’

  ‘I agree and so would he. From what I gathered, that’s the epoch-making dimension to which this man thinks he’s playing. Nothing less than a complete historical break.’

  Leo leans onto the table and clasps both hands together. There is a brightness about him that I have not seen in the longest time. And this kind of attentiveness is a bonus, something well beyond what I had expected. The most I had hoped for was that he might furrow his brow, and voice a couple of sharp observations against which I would clarify my own thoughts. I am heartened to find him so completely taken up with the story. As he looks up I blurt out, ‘And he uses a strange phrase when he speaks of selling this technology – he speaks of trying “to persuade people to our proposition”. That’s the language of an ideologue.’

  Leo’s face is fully open now, sharp with sudden energy. ‘Backtrack a second, what did you say the name of the company was?’

  ‘Cosan.’

  Leo’s fingers are hopping on the table. Recently he’s talked about giving up the fags; I wonder if he’s managed it.

  ‘And what about the validation process?’

  ‘The advert in The Economist called for physicists and engineers to submit CVs and résumés. It made a commitment to put together a panel of experts who would examine the technology and go public with their findings.’

  ‘And they’re still working on it.’

  ‘So I gather.’

  Leo runs his hand through his hair and lowers his gaze to the table. He stays like this a long time and when he finally looks up I am anxious to see that he is having trouble keeping a straight face.

  ‘How long have you been working on this story?’

  ‘Off and on for three months. To tell the truth, I’m tired of the whole thing but I just can’t seem to let it go. I don’t even know if there is a story in it any more.’

  Leo’s face opens over his teeth in a wide, unhealthy smile. ‘Oh, there’s a story alright,’ he grins, ‘but maybe it’s not the one you think. Three months and you haven’t put it together?’

  ‘Put what together?’

  ‘The evidence, the clues, the whole fucking thing.’

  I shake my head. A heave of anxiety passes through me; something in me will not survive the next few minutes. Leo is dismayed. Now his tone is deliberate, slowly instructive.

  ‘Start with the name – Cosan – a word which has its origins in the Irish word for “path” or “way”. And this Cosan comes up with a technology which is bruited as epoch-making, nothing less than the salvation of the earth, in fact. And furthermore, this machine is validated by a jury of good men and true – let me guess, twelve in number?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course. Now does any of this not sound familiar or do I have to drag a child in off the street to spell it out for you?’

  The blurred outline is indeed visible but I refuse to draw the whole thing together into a coherent picture. Too mad, too unbelievable. Leo sees me struggling.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, can you not see what this is all about?’

  ‘I see it but I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Look at the evidence,’ Leo persists, ‘the separate parts of it – the name, the epochal nature of this technology, its mission of salvation, the twelve men who attest to its miraculous powers … OK, they’re not fishermen or tax collectors, but engineers and scientists will do just as well to spread the word. And he spoke of it in terms of faith and hope, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, several times.’

  ‘He’s straying into complex territory here – two of the theological virtues, the ones freely given by God’s grace. I’ll bet he didn’t speak much of the third one – charity.’

  ‘No, not that I remember.’

  ‘I doubt if he did, it would present special difficulties to an entrepreneur. I’ll tell you how this is going to end. My bet is that there are plans to eventually float this whole thing on the stock exchange, possibly with an initial share price set within reach of the private investor, a people’s price. I believe the word is …’

  ‘… incorporated, yes, I see it now.’

  ‘Cosan Inc. or Christ Inc., whichever you prefer. Either way, it’s destined to be the world leader in Christ machines or redemption technologies.’

  Leo sits back, his face open in pure wonder. He is transported, wholly in thrall to the idea. In the gloom of the pub his eyes glitter with delight. I am thinking again of Halloran and that farcical interview. His pale face is clear to me, vivid as he riffed away on the possibility of threats to his work and personal safety. Now the abduction scenario, with all its laboured hints of maltreatment and disappearance, has a different sense to it. As a paranoid fantasy it is prosaic; as a dream of crucifixion it is not unsubtle.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Leo points towards the ceiling.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Listen.’

  The news headlines are on and they are not good. They wash through the pub in a grey wave. Stock markets across Europe continue to fall in the wake of a huge American investment bank filing for bankruptcy; the ECB has issued a bleak warning on interest rates, and at home, the government denies there is any liquidity problem in our banking system. Leo turns to me and spreads his hands.

  ‘This is what I am talking about – a gathering chaos, something so deep and widespread it can only be resolved by divine intervention. And this is Halloran and his technology, the Deus ex Machina, the god from the machine; techne and logos finally brought together. And of course it’s only right and fitting that Christ should come by way of the machine this time. He tried the flesh and blood route before – it ended badly, as I remember.’

  The waitress passes behind Leo. She is carrying a large mug of coffee and a pint towards the couple sitting inside the window. I watch as she rises onto her toes, turning her hips to pass in the narrow space between the tables. As she raises her arms her T-shirt lifts up out of her jeans, exposing the lower part of her back. She is tanned, her skin like brushed gold. And right at the base of her spine, precisely where I imagine her whole nervous system converges, I see tha
t she carries a mark. I get the merest glimpse of it, but even as it passes in a rhythmic blur it’s unmistakeable – a bar-code tattoo complete with a row of digits beneath. She moves on towards the couple at the window where she is lit by sunlight pouring in from the street. Leo sees nothing of this. Lost in his own thoughts, he sweeps a hand through the air.

  ‘Electric women and redemption machines: the world is ripe for a miracle. All that’s needed now are men of good faith, true believers. Men like me and you, Jimmy, me and you.’

  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Leo this happy.

  And I’d forgotten just how uneasy that makes me.

  First published 2012 by

  THE LILLIPUT PRESS

  62–63 Sitric Road, Arbour Hill,

  Dublin 7, Ireland

  www.lilliputpress.ie

  Copyright © Mike McCormack, 2012

  Some of these stories have previously been published in the following: Transcript, Irish Independent, Ropes, Irish Book Review, The McGahern Yearbook, Short Fiction and Irish Pages. ‘Take These Chains from my Heart’, Fred Rose and Hy Heath © 1952 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC. All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing. All rights reserved. Used by permission. ‘Some Days are Diamonds (some days are stone)’, Dick Feller © 1975 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC. All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

  The author would like to thank The Arts Council of Ireland, An Comhairle Ealaíon, and The Civitella Ranieri Foundation for their support.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher. A CIP record for this title is available from The British Library.

  Ebook ISBN 9781843514756

  Print ISBN 978 1 84351 270 7