by Paul Anlee
They jumped to their feet. “Dr. Leigh!” Though Darian was the youngest of them all, he was their undeniable superior. More than his coveted faculty position, it was his intellectual prowess and prestige that commanded their attention and respect.
Darian decided that introductions were in order. “Madam President, Dr. Pinto, Dr. Wong, Dr. Pratt, I’d like to present the charter members of my group here at SFU.
“Dr. Katherine Liang is a graduate of the Applied Physics Department at Stanford. Dr. Valeriy Rusalov and Dr. Girikanshayam Mahajani are graduates of Physics here at SFU.” He nodded at each of Kathy, Larry and Greg in turn as he introduced them. Both groups stood in awkward silence at the unaccustomed meeting of disparate academic strata.
Kathy stepped forward, hand outstretched, “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Leigh," she beamed, precipitating handshakes all round.
“We were just finishing the campus tour. Why don’t you join us for lunch at the Faculty Club?” Darian invited. The university executives were clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea but reluctant to dismiss their celebrity’s wishes or generosity. Everyone looked to President Sakira for a decision.
“Yes, please do. But we will have no technical discussion,” she decreed, with a wagging finger. Everyone laughed. Dr. Sakira was a world-renowned expert in Europolitics, equally well-known and respected on campus for trying to keep social occasions among the academics civil and inclusive. Her appointment as President of SFU had been widely viewed as a stroke of brilliance in troubled times.
“I am proud to remind you all,” she began, making deliberate eye contact with Darian and each of the executives and postdocs, “that SFU has no separate Faculty Club. Our policy is more equitable here. The Diamond Alumni Centre is open to all. Shall we continue?”
They walked under the AQ and entered the central garden. Dr. Sakira resumed her narration of the tour. “Notice the relationship between the land and the structures. This campus was designed by award-winning architect Arthur Erickson in the early 1960s. Inspired by the acropolis in Athens as well as the small towns in the hills of Italy, he incorporated the mountains on which they stand into the design of the buildings.
“Here, you can see how the massive cement columns of the AQ rise and support two floors of classrooms and offices above us, leaving open access or sight lines to this peaceful one hundred meter square park in the middle. The entire campus, including this futuristic-looking building, continues to be used as a movie and television set. The first movie filmed here was the sequel to The Fly, filmed in 1989, I believe.”
“Actually, it was the Groundstar Conspiracy, with George Peppard,” Larry interjected. When everyone turned to look at him, some with surprise and others with disapproval, he added, “Sorry. A bit of a trivia buff,” and shrugged.
“You are correct,” Darian said in support of his assistant. “At least, according to the latest information available on the web. It starred Michael Sarrazin and Christine Belford, and was directed by Lamont Johnson.”
“Are you also a movie trivia buff, Dr. Leigh?” asked Dr. Pratt.
“Not at all,” replied Darian. “I looked it up.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your internal DNND network,” observed Dr. Pratt. “Well, I do hope it is useful for academic purposes as well.”
Darian didn’t bother to respond to the openly snide remark. Apart from Dr. Wong, Chair of the Physics Department, it appeared that none of the other three faculty members carried implanted dendy lattices. And while Dr. Wong did sport a telltale induction headband, even he was not sufficiently comfortable with the technology to access movie trivia on a whim.
Dr. Pratt's open contempt for the DNND technology wasn’t uncommon. On this campus and many others, the issue of whether built-in access to online data should be considered a professional cheat or an essential enhancement was a hotly debated topic. Most established professors eschewed the conveniences of the new technology, saying that solid, scholarly work ought to rely more on skillful thinking and solid research than on fancy computer tricks.
As always, the students—those who could afford it, anyway—were quick to adopt the new technology. Truth be told, they were employing it more for entertainment purposes than intellectual pursuit. To obviate the need for wifi shielding in lecture halls, induction headbands were not permitted during exams. Cheating still relied on conventional methods.
President Sakira skillfully intervened. “Oh, it looks like we’re running a little late,” she said, glancing at her watch. She picked up the pace, and briskly redirected them along the north side of the AQ, down through the Robert C. Brown Hall, and across the road to the Diamond Alumni Centre. Not by accident, the faster pace made it difficult for the group to keep up the conversation and breathe at the same time.
The host delivered them to a table along the north windows of the DAC dining room, overlooking Indian Arm inlet and the beautiful Pacific Coast range. The cold blue waters of the glacial fjord extended inland between steep, conifer-lined slopes. Sakira took a moment to enjoy the view; she believed it to be among the most magnificent, and calming, of any university-based restaurant in the world.
They ordered and ate their meals, confining their remarks to appreciation of the food and scenery, and were relaxing over coffees and teas when the conversation took an unexpected turn.
“I was sorry to hear of your father’s death this past winter,” President Sakira offered; “I’m sure he’s in a better place now.”
“I doubt that he would prefer an urn over our house in California,” Darian responded. His table mates winced at his dark, dry sense of humor.
“I meant,” the University President corrected, “his soul in heaven.”
“Mm,” Darian said, “his soul. Well, I’m quite sure that, prior to his death, my father was finally convinced there is neither heaven nor hell, and that the whole concept of souls is simply a reflection of a very human inability to accept that our brief physical existence on this planet is really all there is. He accepted his death as his ultimate end.”
Dr. Pratt could not resist weighing in. “That couldn’t have been very comforting to him.”
“I’m sure that it wasn’t as comforting as his previous belief in the myth of an eternal afterlife. After facing the prospect of his imminent death for two years, my father was finally able to accept that nothing uniquely him would survive the cessation of coordinated biological activity in his brain. We had many discussions about this during his battle with cancer. I think he was brave to discard his earlier superstitions and face his death without an emotional crutch.”
“I hate to say it, Dr. Leigh, but you sound rather heartless,” Dr. Pratt retorted. “Science has little if anything to say about the existence of a soul or spirit, if you will, or about the possible existence of heaven.”
“That is not at all the case.” Darian's three postdocs raised their eyebrows in unison. Pratt was an internationally respected moral philosopher whose moderate religious views were perceived as generously inclusive. Why was Darian picking a fight with him?
“I would be interested to hear how you believe the study of natural law can contribute to our understanding of the transcendent,” said Pratt.
“Very well,” agreed Darian. Kathy shot Greg and Larry a discreet look in response to his literal-mindedness, and made herself comfortable.
“First, I need to know which version of the soul you might subscribe to.”
“Version?”
“Yes. Do you believe the soul is a kind of energy that temporarily occupies the brain or body, and returns to the universe upon corporeal death where it simply dissipates? Or do you believe that the soul is an organized structure unique to each person; that it can think or feel, and possibly remember? I think that the soul alluded to by most religions would generally belong to the latter category.”
“If those are my alternatives, I would go with choice number two, that the soul is eternal and unique to each person. But I reserve the ri
ght to revisit choice number one.”
“That’s fine. Do you accept the compendium of sub-atomic particles that constitutes the Standard Model of Physics, as incomplete as it may be?”
“Certainly.” Dr. Pratt was reasonably well-versed in modern physics, considering it to be a sub-interest of sorts to reconcile common scientific and religious viewpoints. “Except, the soul belongs to the supernatural.”
“And what exactly is the supernatural?” asked Darian.
“Something outside the laws of nature,” Pratt replied by rote.
“But a supernatural soul would still need to interact with biological matter, no? With cells made of molecules, those molecules consisting of atoms, those atoms formed from the various sub-atomic particles, and all behaving according to the laws of nature?”
“Of course.”
“And how, exactly, would it do that?”
“I don’t know. It’s supernatural.”
Darian’s entire body bobbed eagerly. “Yes, this is the crux of the problem. The known particles of physics interact with each other in well-understood ways. For example, electromagnetic forces are carried by photons passing between particles such as electrons—”
“Well, you and Dr. Wong would be the experts on the various particles and forces but, yes, that is also my understanding.”
“And a supernatural soul—if it doesn’t interact with the brain in any conventional manner—would still need some kind of mechanism to exchange information with the normal matter of the brain in order to affect the body’s actions.”
“Yes, I would agree.”
“So, if we were to speculate that a soul is some sort of as-yet undiscovered force, we would still have to admit that it can somehow interact with the normal matter of our brain, right? Otherwise, both body and soul would exist but would have no relationship to each other.”
Dr. Pratt chewed on the idea. “Well, there is certainly some kind of interaction. Our life experiences and the moral judgments we make on Earth must be reflected in our soul. If not, how could we be judged fit for Heaven?”
“So, if the soul is some kind of matter or energy we haven’t yet discovered, and it interacts with normal matter, then it must do so through some force or particle that we also haven’t discovered yet.”
“I would certainly agree that we haven’t found any ‘soul particle’ yet.”
“So one important question is, how does the soul know that the matter it’s associated with belongs to the brain of a human, and not to a chimpanzee, or a dog, or a fly? After all, biologically, neural cells from many different species are largely indistinguishable.”
“Certainly there are some differences between the cells of a man and those of a fly,” said Pratt.
“Yes, indeed. Many. But would that require the soul to read the entire DNA of the cell? Or would it just recognize cell-surface proteins the way another human cell would?”
“Let’s say the soul recognizes human DNA.”
“Okay, given that chimpanzee DNA is about 96% similar to human DNA, do chimps also have souls?”
“I think that’s a trick question.”
Darian laughed. “Yes, good for you. That is a trick question. The DNA of male humans and male chimps is about equally similar as that of male and female humans.”
Dr. Sakira couldn’t help herself, “That explains so much.”
Pratt smiled indulgently, but he wasn’t prepared to give up yet. “While animals may have spirits of their own, only human souls are generally considered to be made in God’s image. So, let's say the souls we are discussing are uniquely human.”
“Okay, let’s specify the soul can recognize some subset of the DNA present in male and female humans that is uniquely human. Unless you would like to deny that human females have souls?”
Dr. Pratt looked at President Sakira and Kathy. “I think I had best not deny that,” he said with a wry smile. Sakira returned the smile graciously.
“Okay, so the soul recognizes some unique human brain DNA. Do you see the problem here?”
“Yes, I think so. Since the DNA of all the cells in one person is essentially identical, the soul would need to be able to specify some non-DNA recognition mechanism that is specific to the brain, wouldn’t it?”
Darian smiled. “Exactly. Now, we still could allow the soul to recognize some surface molecule encoded by the DNA but only expressed in the brain.”
“Very well,” Pratt replied, “Let’s do that, although I’m sure you’ll find some way to make me regret conceding the point.”
“That would lead to the question of how a soul knows its host body is dead. If it just recognized molecules instead of activity, one would think it would stay attached after death until decomposition was complete.”
“I hadn’t realized the discussion was going to become so morbid,” said Dr. Sakira.
“My apologies,” Darian briefly bowed his head in mock contrition.
Dr. Pinto, who had remained relatively quiet through lunch, ventured in. “Why can’t we say the soul somehow recognizes electrical activity in the brain?”
“Sure,” said Darian. “I imagine we could make a case that there is some pattern of brain activity that is uniquely human, perhaps even unique to each human. And perhaps that would allow the soul to stay attached to the body so long as the brain continued to be active.”
“I could accept that,” said Pratt.
“However, even this would still require the so-called soul particles to interact with active neurons, with their molecules, and their atoms.
“We already have a model for how that might work, if we take a look at the dendy lattices. The semiconductor dendy sensors position themselves at synaptic junctions in the brain so they can detect and modify the neurochemical activity. So a reasonable place to look for the soul-brain interface would be at those synapses. I see two possible ways it could do this.”
“Only two?” Pratt ribbed.
“Logically, that’s all that’s possible. First, there could be interactions that we haven’t discovered between the molecules in these synaptic junctions and the supernatural particles of the soul. Now, those interactions would still have to act according to some sort of governing laws. Technically, that would make them supra-natural, not super-natural. Just because we haven't discovered or explained these particles and interactions, doesn't make them outside of nature. They would still fall under the purview of physics eventually.”
“But the supernatural is unknown and unknowable,” Pratt objected.
“Exactly,” replied Darian. “Accepting the possibility of such a mechanism would suggest that there are simply gaps in our understanding. We can surmise that we could eventually discover these soul particles and delineate their interactions with other particles.
“Perhaps we need to put a live human in a particle accelerator,” Pratt jested.
“The fact we have never seen such particles suggests we might need to do something like that,” said Darian. Even his postdocs weren’t sure whether he was being serious. “Over time, the discovery of such soul particles could conceivably lead to the development of a technology that might include soul detectors, perhaps even soul modifiers, or soul destroyers.”
“I don’t think I’d like to see a technology of the soul.” interjected Dr. Sakira.
“Me, neither,” replied Darian. “If sub-atomic soul particles actually existed, they could be horribly abused. However, Dr. Pratt also said that the supernatural is unknowable, so that only leaves us with the second mechanism.”
“And what is that?”
“The soul interacts with the brain directly by transiently altering the local natural laws. This is the very definition of supernatural. For example, the soul could alter the natural laws of physics locally, causing an ion channel in a synapse to open and initiating neural activity. Souls might be composed of collections or fields of natural laws. But no science of any such thing exists; we have no understanding of how such fields might intera
ct with each other.”
“In that case, souls would exist outside the universe of natural law. So science would have nothing to say about them, would it?” Pratt concluded triumphantly.
“Correct. In that case, souls would be outside the natural laws of this universe.”
“Thank you,” Pratt gloated, glad to finally gain some ground.
Darian stared out the window, deep in thought. His breathing slowed and his eyes became unfocused.
Is he going to pull some winning rebuttal out of thin air, or is he sore about losing a point—Greg wondered. In the awkward silence, the rest of the table sipped contemplatively at their beverages.
Finally, Darian inhaled loudly, breaking the spell, and turned to Pratt as if there had been no pause in the conversation. “However, that would not put them outside of scientific investigation,” he said.
“That’s preposterous!”
“Not really. This discussion made me wonder whether we might be able to describe a physics of natural laws rather than a physics from natural laws. I have been working for some months on speculative physics of other universes and was able to sketch some equations based on the generalization of some alternative natural laws. I made the assumption that there could be a field or fields that would determine the rules for particle interactions in this universe or other universes.
“The math was tricky,” his sheepish smile and boyish charm made everyone at the table, save Pratt, smile along with him. “But I believe the solution to those equations suggests it should be possible to test this new theory. That is, to create a device that could generate such a field and alter what we think of as the normal physical laws. Locally, at least.”
"You could do that?" Bolting upright, Dr. Wong's sudden enthusiasm startled those beside him. Being a resolutely practical man, the topics of metaphysics and the supernatural normally fell outside his area of specialty. His interest in the conversation about souls had waned almost as soon as it began. But this could be big. Very big. “Do you mean to say, you've just invented a completely new area of physics?” His eyes locked onto Darian’s.