The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

“What would you like to know? I’m not that interesting,” Trish said.

  “Humor me. What you were like growing up? Why did you became a doctor? What do you want out of life? You know, the little things that make a person who they are.” What he didn’t ask, and didn’t want to know yet, was whether she had a boyfriend. No reason to place that barrier there prematurely if she had someone.

  “I want the same things I think you do, only I haven’t doubted or thought about them as much. My childhood started out unconventional and became more conventional as my parents became less counterculture.”

  “Funny how that works when people have to pay bills.”

  Trish ignored Dan’s poor attempt at wit and said, “My father is even becoming religiously observant. I attended an alternative middle school that emphasized communal ideals. I spent parts of summers in Israel on a kibbutz and then later worked in medical clinics. That developed my interest in medicine. Though my parents had the means for high-end private schools, they insisted I attend public schools.”

  Feeling guilty about his prior comment, and genuinely impressed, Dan said, “The background they gave you is remarkable.”

  “Thank you. After high school, I went to a small college and then medical school. Though I am not Catholic, one of my idols is Dorothy Day. I admire what she did for those most in need. It led to me specializing in pediatric oncology because those patients and families need the most comforting. It’s inspiring how much hope there can be in situations that call mostly for despair.”

  The previous song over, Trish selected another, and Van Morrison’s “Enlightenment” began playing.

  “Good choice. Is this what you believe?” Dan said.

  “I’ve leaned toward Eastern philosophy, though I’m wondering if more than that will be needed. There are good messages in this, regardless.”

  “Yes there are.”

  The song over, Dan picked Michael Franti’s “The Sound of Sunshine,” a happy, upbeat, song.

  “I like this. Thank you,” Trish said. After that ended, she played Bruce Springsteen’s “Growing Up” and then “No Surrender.”

  “A message as much as a commentary, I think,” Dan said.

  “Could be,” Trish answered, a sly smile crossing her face that Dan liked.

  Broaching the topic again, Trish asked, “You once mentioned something about it all started with Grace, but not in the religious sense. What was that about?”

  Taking a deep breath, Dan began. “Grace was my next-door neighbor. We were born within weeks of each other. We were young enough that we could be good friends without boy-girl complications getting in the way. One day, when we were eleven, she was playing capture the flag at her house with some other friends. She thought the sliding door was open, and was running furiously from pursuit, and she ran straight through the closed door, shattering the glass and slicing her leg. A tourniquet barely kept her from bleeding to death on the way to the hospital. We all prayed intensely for her, especially me. The prayers seemed to work, but then an infection sprouted that led to sepsis and brought her near death. Once again, everyone’s fervent prayers appeared to help lead to Grace’s recovery. But when she was set for release, an undetected blood clot in her leg broke loose and made its way to her brain. The resulting stroke left her brain-dead until, several agonizing days later, the rest of her body’s organs also failed. Prayers could do nothing. It was at that point that I decided that if God existed, He was malicious. At best human suffering meant nothing to Him. It took me years, but looking back, I finally realized it was futile to be angry at someone who didn’t exist.”

  “I’m sorry. It must still hurt,” Trish said.

  “It was long ago. A different time and place,” Dan said. But some things would never make sense, could never be made right.

  “It’s only been a few days, but so many things are challenging us. Why is it that so many people think they can be happy, believe that their own version of morality is objectively right? How can most of what people believe is right be the same, unless it is somehow true? Or do you believe God is an illusion that we just can’t shake and common beliefs are coincidental or are shaped by the same society?” Trish asked.

  “Either that, or God exists and we possess the nature He gave us, whether we acknowledge its existence and origin or not.”

  “Then perhaps our firm sense of morality is a form of evidence of God’s existence.”

  “Many philosophers have said so. And since we call the few people who live truly as though objective morality is an illusion, we must think morality isn’t a changeable, made-up thing. Though we sometimes think we get to define what moral standards apply to us, we’re always quite certain when we’ve been wronged and that’s another indication we think at least part of morality is objectively, universally, real.”

  “You have a knack for getting into this type of discussion,” Trish said.

  “Simply trying to find a path forward, one that leads somewhere worth getting.”

  “You would think you might have some answers by now.”

  “I started looking late but think I’m getting there,” Dan said, turning to glance at Trish then quickly back to the road.

  With nothing more to say, they drove on in silence as each reflected on what lay ahead.

  The sun was low in the sky, and they were on a stretch of the road close to the coast. Orange light danced off the ocean waves.

  Looking over at an alert Trish, Dan thought of the remaining drive. “Though it’s only early evening here, we’re still on East Coast time, and it would be a good idea for you to rest. We’ll need to take turns sleeping and driving. ”

  “You’ve been driving awhile. You could rest first.”

  “My mind is racing too much, trying to think about things I may have missed with Stephen, to do that now.”

  “Do you want music while you drive? I won’t mind.”

  “I’ll put an earbud in one ear and put something on.”

  “Wake me anytime you need me to take over,” Trish said.

  “Thanks, I will,” Dan said, then put on Donovans’s “Catch the Wind.”

  Feeling a bit forlorn over memories, and faintly longing for what he was coming to believe was an extraordinary person next to him; he thought the song was the perfect choice.

  He wondered what she thought, if she was awake and could hear it.

  • • •

  Eight hours later, Trish was driving on a pitch-black road. Dan’s eyes were closed, but he was awake. Every little twitch the car made caused him to sit up and open his eyes.

  Eventually, he said, “I don’t think I can sleep. How about we switch back?”

  “You slept better than you thought.”

  “Good, then I’ll drive.”

  “If you must,” Trish said with a touch of criticism.

  “I like feeling fully in control whenever I can. No offense, you drove well.”

  “All you need to dispel the notion that you can completely control your own life is struggling for your last breath.”

  “Now, that’s a nice thought.”

  “You’re the one hung up on reality. What’s more real than that?”

  Chapter 54

  The singularity project must continue uninterrupted,” Sarastro said over the secure video conference line to the rest of The Commission’s governing council.

  “The fusion event calls for different priorities. It upsets critical, international power balances and relationships. And there may be bigger things to come,” said a titan of the tech industry.

  “If we do not direct this to the proper outcomes, nothing else will matter,” added a prominent European political figure.

  Sarastro knew what they said was true, yet he was compelled by his own condition and interests to ensure that the project that had been The Commission’s primary focus for t
wo years continued unimpeded. He also knew that while he would ensure that The Commission carried out his wishes, he needed to let the council have its say, let them think they had reached his conclusion on their own.

  “And we have to consider what minimizes human suffering,” said a well-known spiritual figure.

  “While maximizing the flourishing of the species,” added a leading evolutionary philosopher.

  Sarastro considered most of these people fools who spouted phrases and views they did not understand except in relation to their own interests. Yet the power and wealth they collectively wielded was important to the few real commission leaders, among whom he was first among equals, who sat quietly in the background shepherding the important decisions.

  “Yes, this is all true,” Sarastro said. “We have already reported to you the steps that are being taken and what they should achieve. Unless something we haven’t anticipated occurs, all efforts should proceed as planned. It is even possible that the efforts will converge.”

  A US senator on the Senate’s Intelligence Committee asked, “Is that likely? Have you found out what caused the explosion at the MIT fusion reactor and how Viktor Weisman obtained the technology?”

  “We’re closing in on those who will answer these questions, and many more, for us,” Sarastro answered.

  “There are those that think the US has developed powerful new weapons that they are about to deploy as a step to US global dominance. We won’t allow this,” said the powerful Chinese politician.

  Sarastro replied, “As the Senator can attest, the US government has no such programs or capabilities.”

  “Then what else can explain these striking discoveries? We won’t wait for the answers to arrive via missiles on our soil,” the Chinese politician proclaimed.

  “We believe that Alex Robertson was the source of physics discoveries that John Welch and Viktor Weisman further developed and tested, using mostly existing technology,” Sarastro answered.

  “And that would mean that Stephen Bishop was the initial conduit between them, and probably shared all of his research with Dan Lawson. Why not grab Lawson, and extract everything he knows, right now, before the US government puts him outside our reach?”

  “If he had the information we want, he’d have either already told his old colleague, Agent Evans, or tried to find others to help him with the technology—and he has done neither. Right now, he is searching for a treatment to save Ava Bishop’s life. His search may lead us to a person who can provide us more information about Bishop’s work,” Sarastro said, pleased that his idea to cause a reoccurrence of Ava’s cancer, while she was getting her checkup in the hospital, was turning out so well. It was with a strain that he possessed a treatment for; he could keep it under control. By substituting it for other treatments, he could control the disease’s progression, at least for a while, to his advantage. If somehow the leukemia was eradicated unexpectedly, he could always introduce another strain to the girl’s bloodstream. If at some point the treatment was no longer effective and she died, it would be an unfortunate necessity. For now, he had a fantastic tool for manipulating people, and its usefulness had survived Bishop’s death. He wouldn’t waste it by letting her die, at least not too quickly.

  “And the fusion information?” the tech titan asked.

  “We’re working on that,” Sarastro said.

  “What do we do in the interim?” said the senator.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Sarastro directed. “The world is on a knife’s edge, which is where we need to keep it until we are ready to direct what should be cut.”

  “Likewise, you need to consult with us once the people and information are in your possession,” said the tech titan.

  “I do not need to be reminded of that. I can accomplish nothing on my own. My interests are the same as The Commission’s,” Sarastro replied, though some of his interests went beyond theirs.

  “We have had a disappointing run of events. Future outcomes must be better,” said the Chinese leader.

  “Appropriate steps have been taken, though better information from our US people would be helpful,” Sarastro replied, a not so veiled criticism aimed at the US senator.

  All understood that there was no more room for errors.

  • • •

  Sarastro was finding The Commission more and more tiresome. Once he alone possessed Stephen Bishop’s work and Viktor Weisman’s physics technology, he would finally bend the governing council completely to his will on his path to ultimate power and knowledge.

  The singularity program was an important part of his, and the world’s, future. Once the secrets of biology were revealed, he would be among the first humans to evolve to the new superspecies, a hybrid of man and machine. It was too late to reverse his physical condition, but not too late to become the first of a new species.

  Then he would choose which Commission members would make the transition with him, though with important differences that would ensure their loyalty.

  They would rule those they had left behind, for their benefit.

  The unforeseen physics discoveries were a threat to his plans. Things could disintegrate around him, and the knowledge he sought lost, before he was able to reach his goals. The clock was running out on him, too.

  It was time to be more aggressive.

  • • •

  Sitting in a car by the airport with Elena, Sergei answered Sarastro’s call. “We followed your instructions.” Sergei thought that it had been a mistake for Sarastro to order them to let Lawson see them, even though the pace of things was forcing their hands, but knew better than to say so.

  “Good. Continue following him,” Sarastro replied.

  “There’s a problem. He’s disappeared. Maybe he sought help from Evans.”

  “I don’t think so. We’d already know if he had, and Lawson is a lone wolf foolishly trying to do things on his own. Perhaps he has made contact with the target. He knows we’re onto him. Maybe he will act hastily, make a mistake, and lead us right to what we’re after. All we need to do is stay on his tail,” Sarastro said.

  “We’ve been searching for hours without finding a trace. They’ve found a way to go dark,” Sergei replied. It had gone against his judgment and nature to just frighten the quarry. They were paying the price for it. Alerted to their presence, Lawson had vanished like a ghost.

  After several moments, Sarastro said, “Let’s use this to our advantage. Forget Lawson for now. Go on to the next step in the plan. Others will look into Lawson’s whereabouts.”

  “We’ll leave immediately,” Sergei replied, disappointed that, for now, there’d be no further contact with Lawson. He’d had enough of his meddling and had plans to put a permanent end to that. And while he had no prior history with the lady doctor traveling with Lawson, Sergei was disgusted by her innocence and would enjoy altering that radically.

  Chapter 55

  DAY 13

  WEDNESDAY MORNING

  Three eggs over easy, a side of corn beef hash, two slices of buttered toast, a black-and-white milkshake, and two cups of strong coffee later, Dan was ready to go, feeling surprisingly optimistic. Trish was finishing her bowl of raisin oatmeal accompanied by fruit and a single cup of black tea.

  Having forgone all but a few small snacks as they had driven through the night, Dan had developed a big hunger that he satisfied without restraint. They had stopped on the edge of Seattle at a place called the Brooklyn Diner. Pictures and memorabilia from that borough, from days gone by, hung on the walls. Dan, like most who had Brooklyn roots, felt strong ties to his old home. Yet as they had entered the restaurant, the Seattle skyline to the north, with its impressive Space Needle in the foreground of a blue, cloud-dotted sky, and Mount Rainier in the distance to the south, Dan understood what drew many people to the Pacific Northwest. Even now, looking west, the Olympic Mountains grabbed his attention.


  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Trish asked, noticing the direction of Dan’s gaze.

  “Yes,” Dan replied, “even though it’s often rainy and drab. There’s a good reason depression is higher in the Northwest.”

  “Maybe you need to be your own sunshine, appreciate every day. You should think of days like today as gifts and enjoy this view now,” Trish said, as if she was giving him advice for life, not just talking about the local weather.

  Looking to avoid a serious discussion about states of minds, especially his, Dan said, “You’re right.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Well, we’ll have to appreciate this one some other time. We have to get going.” Waving to the server, he said, “Check please.”

  “I got it,” Trish said, reaching for the check as it was placed on the table in front of Dan.

  “Not a chance. I have an expense account for this,” Dan said. He tried to grab the check before Trish did and instead wound up placing his hand on top of hers. After a long pause that he wanted to let continue, Dan released her hand and withdrew his.

  “I’m here to contribute, too,” Trish said, showing no acknowledgment of anything other than the check.

  “If you insist, but—” Dan started to say, but stopped when he received a text. He glanced at the screen. “We have a meeting in ninety minutes at the Discovery Institute.”

  “That should be enough time to check into the motel, shower, and change into fresh clothes.”

  “You’re fine the way you are,” Dan said.

  “I meant you, not me. You’re tough to be around most times, especially after a night in a stuffy car.”

  “Thanks for appreciating for all the driving I did,” Dan said with feigned exasperation.

  “Just trying to help you be the best you can be, ” Trish said, with a pleasant smile. “It isn’t easy.”

  • • •

  Dan had chosen a small motel just south of Seattle’s downtown, near entrances to two main highways, in case they needed a quick getaway. It was next to the sports stadiums and railroad tracks, between small business and industrial zone. Buildings were low and spread out, providing good visibility. The motel was walking distance to the Discovery Institute.