“Did you, um . . . save this passage?” asked Megan. “You know, in the cloud?”
“Didn’t really need to. I can call it up online pretty fast.”
Megan grinned. “If only you came with a printer,” she said. “If the passage isn’t too long, why don’t you read it to me.”
Hall thought about this for a few seconds and shrugged. “Okay. Sure. Give me a second to call it up and find the right place.”
There was a brief pause. “Okay, here we go.” Hall cleared his throat and began reading.
The Neanderthals had no fear of strangers. Warfare and conflict were virtually unknown to them. At first I thought that might be because their telepathic abilities made it impossible to attack someone without his sensing it beforehand and being prepared to retaliate. I was wrong, although I had been on the right track.
They were peaceful because their telepathic abilities allowed them to understand each other much more thoroughly than speech permits true understanding. It was not that they constantly read each others’ minds, I gradually learned. But the Neanderthals were trained from birth to communicate their feelings, their emotions, as well as rational thoughts and ideas. When a Neanderthal was angry or upset or afraid, everyone around him knew of it instantly, and they all did their best to get to the cause of the problem and solve it. Similarly, when a Neanderthal was happy, everyone knew it and shared in the joy.
How alone we Sapiens are! Locked inside our skulls with our individual personalities, we make feeble attempts at communication through speech, where the Neanderthals shared their thoughts as naturally as warmth flows from a fire. There were no psychotherapists among them—or, rather, they were all psychologists.
They were a gentle people, in spite of their powerful muscular bodies. Their innocent brown eyes reminded me of the doe and fawns I had seen my first day in this time. They did not, probably could not, dissemble.
Megan didn’t seem all that impressed. “That’s nice, but it is science fiction. No way that it’s true.”
“You’re almost certainly right. But according to the blog I read, there is just the tiniest chance that it is. We don’t know much about Neanderthals, and scientists have conflicting interpretations of what we do know. Many think Neanderthals were actually smarter than us, not dumber, based on a bigger cranial capacity and better stone tools. Many others think this is ridiculous. If they were smarter than us, why did they go extinct?”
“A good point.”
“Some think they couldn’t speak. They didn’t have the physical apparatus we have for it. Those who believe they were smarter than us think their brainpower didn’t matter in the end. Without our ability to communicate through complex language, their smarts couldn’t help them in the long run.”
Megan raised her eyebrows. “But if they couldn’t speak, maybe they evolved ESP, instead. Is that what you’re saying?”
“They thrived for tens of thousands of years. Possibly without language. So who knows, maybe they had psychic powers. I would have thought this was the most ridiculous theory I had ever heard—if I had read about it two days ago. “Funny,” he thought at her with a smile, “but I’m suddenly less skeptical about the possibility of telepathy than I once was.”
Megan nodded. “Yeah. Another good point,” she replied telepathically. “So maybe Neanderthals did have ESP at that,” she finished aloud.
“And some scientists think they were able to interbreed with us. Again,” he hastened to add, “not that there’s any chance you’re part Neanderthal. I was just trying to figure out why you’re different, and I was kind of thinking out loud.”
“And I thought nothing could top some of the bizarre conversations I’ve already had with you. But I think this might do it.”
The waitress returned and set two dishes in front of them, both of them colorful works of art as well as meals. They thanked her and then resumed.
“But you said this science fiction passage really got you thinking,” said Megan. “Just that I might have some Neanderthal DNA, or something more?”
“Something more. About the nature of Homo sapiens. Our history is riddled with brutality, wars, violence, and the like. We all know that. But I’ve been forced to overhear thousands of people’s thoughts since I awoke in that dumpster yesterday. And they aren’t pretty. I haven’t mentioned this to you, but people think the nastiest things pretty routinely. Even friends. Even couples who have been married a long time. I might even say, especially these couples. People are selfish, nasty, and brutish. They fantasize about sex acts that defy imagination. This one likes latex, and that one likes to masturbate on women’s clothing, and the other one likes having a tongue stuck in his ear. Not to mention some who have engaged in, or fantasize about engaging in, sexual acts that I plan on never repeating, even to myself.”
Megan inhaled deeply and nodded. She had long known the truth of what Hall was saying, and it went far beyond just sexual fantasies.
“And sexual thoughts are only the beginning of why it would be a disaster if we could read each other’s minds,” continued Hall, right on cue. “And I’m not talking about just being able to read each other’s surface thoughts, which would be bad enough, but being able to read each other’s innermost thoughts. The problem goes far beyond just reading all the white lies we tell each other dozens of times a day to spare each other’s feelings.”
“Like telling your friend you like her new outfit when you actually despise it?”
“Right. You could argue that these lies are at least told for the right reasons. But what I’m talking about is far worse. People wishing other people were dead. Wives learning what their husbands are really thinking about when they’re pretending to be listening to them, and vice versa. Or what their partners are thinking about during sex. Spouses learning of the sordid details of past infidelities, both real and fantasized. Subordinates who despise their bosses. You think there are any employees only pretending to laugh at the bosses’ jokes? Coworkers who badmouth colleagues behind their backs. Kids learning what their parents really think about their fifth grade art projects, and their general criticisms and disappointments. And parents reading the hatred toward them that nearly all kids feel at one time or another. And revealed prejudices, even among the best and most open-minded of us. Not necessarily just against blacks, or whites, or Asians, or homosexuals, or Arabs. But against the obese. Rednecks. Snobs. Sluts. Believe me, I’ve been reading minds. I know.”
“It’s an awfully bleak picture,” said Megan. “But I can’t argue with anything you’ve said. When you knew the flavor of my favorite ice cream and for just a second I thought you could read me, I was panicked. I like you Nick—maybe a lot—but humans aren’t wired to let someone inside our innermost sanctums. I feel like I’m not bigoted and have led a good life—but everyone has secrets. Like you said, sexual fantasies, embarrassing moments, thoughts they’ve had and things they’ve done that they aren’t proud of.”
Hall nodded slowly. “So if I’m stuck with this ability, and word gets out, I’ll be a pariah. No one I can read will be willing to come near me.”
Megan lowered her eyes. As much as she had come to care for him in a short period of time, if he could read her every, innermost thought . . . . She shuddered just thinking about how impossible that would be. “I guess our species just isn’t wired for full disclosure,” she said.
“So this ability may make me formidable, but it’s like the curse of Midas. Seems like a good thing at first blush . . .”
They both fell silent, alone with their thoughts for several minutes while they tried to enjoy an expensive lunch that was growing cold. Finally, Hall said, “Now that I’ve depressed us both, I should probably mention that it isn’t like the species is beyond redemption. It goes without saying that I’ve read a lot of positive thoughts and emotions as well. Selflessness. People going out of their way to please, or help, or surprise each other. Devotion to kids or parents. Generosity and compassion. I’ve read all of thi
s too. Some of it is faked for outsiders, but a lot of it is real.”
“So do positive thoughts outweigh venomous thoughts?”
Hall laughed. “I haven’t really done that experiment. And most thoughts are neutral. You know, like, ‘I wonder if it will rain tomorrow?’ But regardless of the good will that would come from reading each other’s positive thoughts, nothing could mitigate the total disaster that mind reading would cause.”
“Yeah. My guess is that if everyone could read minds the way you do, society would tear itself to pieces in hours. Probably with our bare hands and teeth.”
19
Megan and Hall fell silent. Megan looked around at the fellow inhabitants of the restaurant. Dining pleasantly with others, secure in the knowledge that their inner thoughts and feelings, and outer expressions of these thoughts and feelings, could be diametrically opposed without anyone being the wiser. Separated by an impenetrable wall.
But if this impenetrable wall ever came crashing down, civilization would not be far behind.
“I have absolutely no doubt that you’re right,” said Hall grimly. “We’ve lost a lot of privacy already. There are cameras everywhere, and everyone is a narcissist. Our generation grew up thinking that everyone wants us to Tweet them our every thought. We can’t wait to post pictures of a date on Facebook, before the date is even over. Or go on reality television and expose every facet of our lives. Or sext each other naked pictures which end up in cyberspace for all eternity. The privacy that our parents knew is long gone.
“But at least we still have some control,” continued Hall. “We can still hide our thoughts. We can choose what to post on Facebook. So while we’ve gone a long way toward eliminating our own privacy, the mind is the last bastion of privacy we have. If this is ever breached, society self-destructs,” he finished, mirroring Megan’s reasoning exactly.
A thoughtful expression came over Megan’s face as something clicked about the science fiction piece Hall had found so thought-provoking. “You had read hundreds of minds already when you came across that passage about Neanderthals, hadn’t you? So you’d already come to this conclusion.”
“Yes. That’s really why I found the passage so interesting. Why it struck home. Only if a species evolved ESP gradually, so it became a part of their psychological makeup, like the Neanderthals in the story, could ESP be a positive force. Introduced suddenly in a species evolved to shield its thoughts, like ours, it’s catastrophic.”
Megan nodded.
“The real Neanderthals probably didn’t have ESP,” continued Hall. “The theory is probably wrong. But if they did, they would almost surely have developed a gentle, open-minded nature. Like that described in the novel. Pretty easy for a tribe to weed out those who are psychopathic, or who aren’t team players, when it’s impossible for anyone to hide anything. They almost would have had to evolve into kind, compassionate, ultra-pacifists. So when Homo sapiens crossed into Europe forty-five thousand years ago, Neanderthals wouldn’t have had a chance. Can you imagine having absolutely no concept of selfishness, deception, ruthlessness—and then you come across us. Talk about a mismatch. Neanderthal extinction would have been a certainty.”
Megan forced a smile. “When I picture them the way they’re described in that story, I suddenly find myself wishing I did have Neanderthal DNA. Nice save, Nick. Anyone who can call a girl a Neanderthal, and then convince her it was a genuine compliment, is awfully good.”
Hall laughed. “You know, I don’t know who I am, but I’m beginning to think you’re my type. I’m not hitting on you or anything. But if we weren’t running for our lives . . .”
“You’d ask me out to a lunch like we’re having now?”
“Assuming I could afford this place,” he replied in amusement. “I don’t think the old me could take a tiny poker stake and turn it into over twenty grand. But on the subject of you and me . . . Well, it’s probably a good thing you can’t read my mind.”
The corners of Megan’s mouth turned up into an impish smile. “I wouldn’t find any naked pictures of me in there, would I?” she said, gesturing toward his head.
“Nah,” he said shyly, looking more than a little embarrassed. “Not at all.” He paused and raised his eyebrows. “But now that you mention it . . .”
Megan hit his arm playfully. “Stop that,” she said. And then telepathically, she added, “It’s a good thing you can’t read my mind either.”
Hall gazed at her meaningfully, but chose to let this go. “As disastrous as full-on mind reading would be, you have to admit, widespread telepathy would be awesome.”
“Absolutely,” replied Megan.
Telepathy was something that would be heralded by society, she realized, if ESP could be limited just to this. Rather than invading the inner sanctum, this was just another form of communication. Society would have to make certain adjustments, but nothing that couldn’t be done. True, you couldn’t stop someone from shouting into your brain, which could be disruptive, but there was nothing to prevent people from shouting into your ears right now. Only the conventions of polite society prevented this behavior. And rules of etiquette would develop quickly for telepathy as well.
Still, she didn’t doubt that unforeseen issues would arise. Cheating was one that occurred to her even as she had this thought. If everyone could communicate telepathically, she was pretty sure the average SAT score would rise dramatically. But she also had no doubt that the ingenuity and genius of humanity, its can-do spirit—the flip side of the negatives they had been speaking of—would find a way to make telepathy a blessing.
A busboy removed their empty plates from the table and they ordered dessert. Hall frowned for just an instant as his eyes followed the waitress’s receding figure. Megan caught his frown and guessed the reason behind it. “Mind reading again, Nick?”
“If only I could prevent it,” he said.
“So what was she thinking?”
Hall sighed. “You really want to know?”
Megan nodded.
“Okay, here goes. She thinks you’re cute, but that the outfit you’re wearing is unflattering and you’re too skinny. And she doesn’t like your hair style. She thinks I’m probably a jackass for standing you up for over an hour, and annoyed that this resulted in the table being tied up for as long as it has been. Now that we’ve ordered dessert, she’s wondering if we’re ever going to leave. And she thinks any man who would keep a girl waiting for over an hour is probably a bad tipper.”
Megan digested all of this and shook her head. “I am so glad I’m not you,” she said. “I don’t know how you’re handling this as well as you are.”
“Mostly because of you, Megan,” he replied earnestly. “You’re a big part of my coping mechanism. And I’m probably not handling things as well as you think.”
Megan found herself drawn to his expressive brown eyes, and she lost herself there for several long seconds. If she was going to fall for a guy, did it really need to be in the context of the most complicated and bizarre set of circumstances in history?
“So any other epiphanies last night?” said Megan, breaking out of her trance.
“Nothing too earth-shattering. The ESP thing is driving me batty and making me wish I weren’t human a lot of the time. But being able to surf the web with my thoughts is more amazing than I could ever explain. I must be a super nerd. Because being able to learn about anything that crosses my mind, effortlessly, is like the ultimate nirvana to me.”
“I don’t think you’re a super nerd because of that,” said Megan, fighting to keep a straight face. “I think you’re a super nerd because you use words like nirvana.”
Hall laughed, and for just a moment a smitten expression flashed across his face, but he quickly concealed it.
“I had a memory last night of a presentation given by an author of kids science fiction books maybe twenty years ago. I don’t remember anything but the content, but I remember this quite well. The guy spoke about writing—and technology
. About how the rate of change was accelerating at an insane pace. He talked about how big a deal it had been when he was a little boy when his family went from a black-and-white to a color television. He said he remembered when they got their first microwave oven, and they all gathered around with their mouths open to watch it boil a glass of water, as if by magic. He remembered going on a family outing to marvel at the wonders of the first ATM machine in their neighborhood.
“He talked about how lucky kids were—again, I think this was about twenty years ago when I was little—to live in the computer age. He said that in his day, they had a device called a typewriter. He described how it worked, how mechanical keys would strike a ribbon of ink and slam into a piece of paper. And he said that the thing was, if you made a single mistake, you’d often have to start the entire page over again. A mistake of a single letter! You could try to correct it by backing up and using correcting tape, but that often failed. Or you could brush this white paint over your mistake and try to line it up again, and type on the dried paint. But usually, for him at least, one wrong letter typed and he’d have to start the page from scratch.”
“We really do take technology for granted, don’t we?”
“That’s why this guy’s talk was so fascinating. He reminded kids how lucky they were. That with a computer, one could make endless changes, effortlessly. Move sections of text around to see where they fit best. Improve a sentence a hundred times. He said that anyone who had been able to write a novel using a typewriter was truly a god. He was a successful author, but he insisted that if he would have had to use a typewriter, he couldn’t have done it.”
Megan thought about how limiting graphic design would be without computer technology, and had trouble even imagining it.
The waitress returned with their desserts, outwardly as pleasant and professional as anyone could want. Megan didn’t even want to consider what she might be thinking this time.
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