The Entropy Sessions

by Novo Dé

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  Last Updated: June 30, 2050

  December 13th, 2051

  “…ried to turn to it for help, when I was older, I think, maybe in my 20s , y’know when life started to get hard, when I was on my own, but ah…”

  “But?”

  “But. It never really stuck. Couldn’t attach myself to any of it…Believe…” I say, shaking my head.

  “It seems we both ended up in the same place, but simply took different paths.”

  Cohen is opening up more today than I’ve ever seen before. It’s not just one question after another, after another. Not the usual schtick. Not today.

  Not even close.

  Today, I’m the one peering into his life.

  “I think it had everything to do with how I was raised doc. I mean, my parents were secular, and raised me to be secular, so a void of any beliefs, of anything, was really all I knew. That’s why I’ve never turned to faith through any of this.”

  “My parents Tybalt,” Cohen begins. “My parents were extremely devout. Growing up, we had church, and prayer, and the gospel, something every day. Every-single-day. And then there was private school, charity events, the whole deal.

  Y’see, Religion in my childhood, was just life.

  And believe it or not, when I was young, I actually loved it, every minute of it. Because, like you said, it was really all I knew – there was no reason not to love it.”

  “So what happened?” I say, our roles reversing, genuinely intrigued by what changed in Cohen’s life for him to end up on the other end of the spectrum.

  “Something happened to me in my youth, something incredible, life-changing, and I began to question, everything really, especially authority. Which quickly led me to questioning my beliefs. And before I knew it, I was gone.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh very much yes – I went from being the poster-boy of a true-blue-believer, to the cultural equivalent of the opposite – a man of science.”

  Cohen smiles ever so slightly, and lets out a “whisp” of an exhale through his nose.

  “It was slow at first. But the more I questioned things, the more I began to educate myself, on just about everything really, and the more I educated myself on the concept of ‘belief,’ the more my upbringing became, let’s say, a bit transparent, hollow; it just wasn’t the same anymore. Wasn’t real.

  And the more I gravitated toward science, the more I wanted to understand the ‘why’ of it all, not just for myself, but for all of us. Which eventually led me to my research, and from there, my spiritual past became just that, the past, another lingering memory, fading away a little more dimly with each passing year, until…”

  And Cohen comes to a pause, but I can see on his face he has more to say, so I allow him time to continue.

  “My loss of faith, Tybalt, is the very thing that…brought me here…to what I’ve dedicated my life to, to you in a way. You see, this is the very thing that I’ve been studying from the beginning – ‘The power of belief’ – and how we can change it.”

  “But? What do I have to do…You know I’ve been a—”

  “The cognitive ramifications within the conceptualizations, drives, and mechanisms behind the idea of ‘belief’ go well beyond religion Tybalt.” Cohen says, staring directly in my eyes, sharp, piercing.

  “I, I—”

  “But please, Tybalt, you must understand, I wasn’t referring to you specifically, simply figuratively; in your case, I’m just here to help, that’s all. Nothing more. So please, continue. Tell me more about these years in your 20s.”

  “Sure. I ah, first turned to Christianity, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “But the more I tried to get into it, the more I read, listened to those sermons, the more it all just seemed silly to me.”

  “How so?”

  “I mean, people living in whales, Noah’s Ark, this bullying god – I mean c’mon. It just, all seemed like made-up bullshit to be honest; A bunch of fuckin’ fairytales.

  Now I imagine that if I grew up with it like you did, everything would be completely different, I mean, it would be so much easier to believe. Especially if it was being spoon fed to me my entire life, with everyone and everything around me telling me the same…that this is our absolute reality.

  But. When you’re in your late 20s, you tend to have a pretty good grasp on things, so, I mean, I don’t understand how people read this shit later in life, and don’t see that these are just that, stories, nothing more.”

  “Exactly,” Cohen says with a glimmer in his eye.

  “I mean, how’d you do it doc? Go from being raised with it your whole life, to—”

  “First, you have to let the idea in, the counter-idea really, that this answer may not be the right one. And you have to learn to question appropriately, like a skill. Because if you allow everything, and everyone around you to shape your reality, they will.”

  “But where does that road end doc, with that kind of beginning? My mind has always been kind of a blank in a way with my upbringing. But yours, I’m having trouble. I mean, do you believe in anything?”

  “I believe in a lot of things Tybalt: physics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, and that the brain remains the most mysterious thing in the universe. But if you’re asking me if I’m an atheist, the answer is no. Because atheism, in a sense, is the same as theism – both deal in absolutes – But neither can be proven, nor disproven for that matter. The only answer we can really be confident in is that we’ll probably never know, at least not in our life time, the true nature of reality.”

  Cohen pauses to smile, allowing a memory to gloss over his eyes. />
  “But what if we’re wrong?”

  “If someone, somehow, could provide concrete evidence to an intellectual design for all this, I’d be more than happy to admit that ‘I was wrong,’ and simply follow suit. But we’ve never even come close to that.

  All they have is a series of stories in books. And it’s clear that those religious doctrines were not constructed through a supernatural force, but by men, men driven by fear, fear to try to understand their world and their existence, through one undeniable fact of life – Death.

  And they all had to cope somehow. So it makes more sense that mankind crafted the idea of the divine, and in it, the afterlife, so death became no longer the end, but the beginning, and with it, a fear of death no more.”

  And we both take a moment, the air in the room heavy.

  “Makes sense,” I finally say, gently lifting the heavy ambiance in the room.

  “I think we can both agree Tybalt, especially given your previous and current predicament that people tend to fill the voids in their lives, especially when faced with fear, the unknown, any grand questions that no one has answers to, with whatever they can. We tend to fill the void in our lives with an idea of purpose, but when we can’t find purpose, we tend to fill those voids with—”

  “Fantasies,” I say finishing his thought.

  “Well, in essence, yes. We, Tybalt, we can’t seem to live without lying to ourselves. We all do it.”

  My fingertips begin to tingle, my mind lingering on that thought, and I think of the dragon for the first time in a long time, and then back to Cohen.

  “Y’know doc, you’ve never told me what kind of man you are.”

  “I ah, I’m not following.”

  “All this talk of death made me think of Beowulf, the dragon. You’ve never told me where you stand?”

  “Ah yes,” he says smiling.

  “You, you, strike me as a ‘nothing matters’ type a guy.”

  And he smiles again.

  “Quite the contrary.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed. Every day is precious to me. Each and every day, they all matter.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Mr. ‘my loss of faith’ thinks every day matters? I find that a little hard to believe doc.”

  “My loss of faith is actually the very thing that brought me to feel that way.”

  “Now I’m not following.”

  “Bare with me: Am I an atheist? No. However, though I can’t disprove it, one thing that I can’t seem to allow myself to believe in, hold onto, is the idea of an afterlife.

  For me, death is absolute, final; nothing more.

  We’re all dead millions of years before we’re born right? So in that sense, all we have is ours days on Earth. So, each and every day is truly precious when you see it that way. So why not fill it with everything you can? Why not truly live? Just like you said.

  Listen: The perfect road in life Tybalt is your road; you just have to make sure you’re on it.”

  “Right,” I say back to Cohen, those words catapulting me back to my days as a journalist, a teacher, hating myself, hating who I’d become.

  “So after Christianity failed to convince you to give up your life to a higher power, I take it you went back to the secular world?” Cohen presses, pushing the conversation forward.

  “No, actually, I went deeper down the rabbit hole.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I began to study other religions of the world. See if there was anything else to it all.”

  “And?”

  “And. I didn’t find much, again, just more of the same. I tend to have that feeling with a lot of things it seems.”

  And Cohen just stares at me, blankly.

  “Next was Islam,” I say, continuing. “But I found myself at the same conclusion with the Quran. Just more of the same. It was just the same kind of bullshit with a different protagonist. It actually just made me fall farther away.

  Then it was on to Buddhism, and that one, was far more interesting. That one doesn’t have a God per se. Just a path. But fuck, that all depends on what kind of Buddhism you’re talkin’ about. And then there was Hinduism, which was a lot like Islam to me, but with different rules.

  Then I came back round circle to Judeo-Christian faiths, studying all the sects within, and Jesus-fucking-Christ, whatta plethora of argumentative cunts wasting so much time over the same fucking thing.”

  And Cohen begins to laugh a bit.

  “All religions are convinced that they ‘figured it out,’” I continue. “Y’know, that they’re right and everyone else is wrong. But they’re all the same. Each of their stories, though long-winded, bring ya back to the same beginning…that we’re not anywhere closer to figuring out this fucked up world.”

  “Another reminder for people like us, that we all need to try…and keep on—”

  “Livin,’” I say back, finishing his thought again.

  “But what that means to each of us changes as our lives change Tybalt. And sometimes it’s hard to tell what we really need to live for.”

  “I think I know what I need to live for now more than ever doc; I gotta keep livin’ for…”

  December 21st, 2051

  CHARLIE remains silent for far too long.

  “Jesus Christ, help me – tell me what to do!” I exclaim.

  “You know I can’t do that. This is a decision you have to make on your own.”

  “Fuck fuck, alright. Just, Just gimme a minute.”

  “Of course.”

  I have to do this. I have to do this. I have to do this.

  “How long has she been waiting?” I say, stalling.

  “It’s only been a couple of minutes. You have time.”

  Feels so much longer.

  “Alright, I ah, let’s pro-con this: If I go through with it, I’ll become the very thing that I hate, but if I don’t, I could lose everything I know.”

  “It would appear that a sacrifice has to be made somewhere.”

  “I know I know. I just—”

  “You know you already know the answer, so just do it.”

  He’s right.

  “Pull her back up.”

  CHARLIE does as instructed.

  And I’m met again to a pair of beautiful browns.

  “Mr. Nielson. Glad to see you didn’t cancel the call. So. Have you decided?” The young lady prompts.

  “So everything’s ready to go? I don’t have to—”

  “Everything is absolutely ready-to-go. We’ve already taken care of all the fine details on our end, and been given full approval across the boards. We just simply need a verbal confirmation at this time, and then we’ll send over the documentation to sign. You can actually sign off on everything with your CHARLIE unit.” She responds smiling, cheerily.

  “And that’s that?” I say softly, almost at a whisper.

  “That’s that. Then we just have to setup your appointment and before you know it, you’ll have full access in a matter of weeks.”

  I simply stare at her through the CHARLIE display, my mouth hanging slightly open.

  Fuck it.

  “Alright let’s do it.”

  “You won’t regret this sir. Now, before we send over the documentation, we are required by law to go over the terms and conditions with you, essentially everything you need to know and do before the procedure, as well as what the procedure entails, and then all the events post-operation. You of course may—”

  “No need – I already read ‘em on your site.”

  She smiles.

  “You must have read my mind Mr. Nielson; I was just about to say that. You may decline a review of the terms and conditions at any time, most people do opt out, it’s pretty cut and dry. I simply need to record you stating that you’ve read them, you understand them, and that you accept all terms and conditions. Hold on a moment sir.” She pauses for a moment. “Alright sir, go ahead.”

  “I have read all terms
and conditions. I understand them. And I accept all of the above.”

  “Say it one more time for me, ending with ‘I accept all terms and conditions.’ Hold on. Ok go.”

  “I have read all terms and conditions. I understand them and I accept all said terms and conditions.”

  “Perfect. Now I’m going to send an ‘Agreement’ option through your CHARLIE. Simply click on it once it manifests, as confirmation, as part of our documentation requirements.”

  A ‘do you agree with all terms and conditions’ option appears on the screen. I press ‘I agree’ firmly as instructed.

  “Perfect perfect. Now any questions or concerns before we go on?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “Alright, well, let me see here. Now we just have to setup your appointment time for the operation. What’s good for you?”

  “I’m pretty much wide open.”

  “Okie dokie. How ‘bout two weeks from now on ah Friday, January 5th, at 9am? Does that work for you?”

  “About two weeks from now,” I say to myself.

  God, that’s, so soon. I swallow hard.

  “Got anything further out. I just have to—”

  “Of course sir. How bout the week after?”

  “No no, that’s too soon too. Can we just ah…” I trail off to silence as my muscles tense. I notice a grease on my palms growing.

  I look up to her for a reply but nothing. She’s waiting for one of her own, smiling, patiently. I can’t think of anything else to do but shrug my shoulders like a child trying to answer a new question for the first time.

  “I see. First time jitters huh? It’s ok. We get that all the time. And we understand. It’s a big decision. And now it’s finally hitting home right?”