The Truth Machine

by James L. Halperin

  He had already accumulated nearly a million dollars using this scheme, and no other person suspected that any crime had occurred.7

  CHAPTER 9

  THE GODDESS

  Memorial Hall

  January 29, 2003—Iraq announces its decision to ratify the Arab-Israeli Free-Trade Pact, completing Israel’s normalization of relations with all of its Arab neighbors.—General Motors releases results of road tests on its 2004 models, which will be available in mid-April 2003. On average, the gasoline-powered automobiles clocked 96 miles per gallon on the highway, and 72 MPG in city traffic. GM’s most popular line, the Andromeda, averaged up to 125 MPG under proper conditions. The 2004 electric cars, although slightly more expensive to operate, were able to go nearly 400 miles per recharge, a 30-percent increase over the 2003 series. Analysts project that electrically powered automobiles will garner an 11-percent market share of U.S. new car sales next year.—The FDA initiates a permanent ban on trans-fatty acids, listed on food labels as hydrogenated or partially hydrogenated oils, vegetable shortening, or margarine. In the latter third of the 20th century, these ingredients were actually marketed to the public as “healthy” because they were low in saturated fat, but in tests conducted over a six-year period, trans-fatty acids were found to be more dangerous to the cardiovascular system that butter or animal lard.—As expected, President Gore formally announces that to improve the Democratic Party’s chances of remaining in the White House after his unpopular veto of the Swift and Sure Anti-Crime Bill, he will not seek reelection in 2004.

  * * *

  My God. She’s incredible!

  A young student raised her hand during the second Theo-Soc class of the semester. Pete, now 13 and well aware of such things, considered her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He tried to smile at her, but all he could do was stare.

  Then she spoke. “Professor, I’ve been thinking about our discussion yesterday. May I tell the class about a friend of mine? It’s a sad story, and relevant, I think, to what Pete Armstrong said yesterday about our basic nature.”

  “By all means, Diana.”

  Diana Hsu’s father, Dr. Thomas Hsu, a 1971 graduate of Harvard College and later, Harvard Medical School, was 100 percent Chinese. Her mother was Irish, and like Pete’s mother, an attorney. Diana’s face was exotic and angelic, her tall, lean body toned from a decade of ballet and modern dance study and performance. To Pete, she was absolute perfection. And when she spoke, her words revealed quiet intelligence, carried on a soft and melodious voice. Pete surmised every other male in the class had to be as smitten as he was.

  Although she looked 20 years old, Diana was barely 17—at least a year younger than her freshman classmates. She was first accepted to Harvard for a special pre-med program 26 months earlier. But unsure she wanted to study medicine, she had remained at Benjamin Franklin Arts Magnet High School in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. Now finally at Harvard, she discovered Gaddis’s class and a more interesting subject than medicine.

  “While I was studying dance, Larry Dannon and Glenn Ross were my best friends,” Diana told the class. “They were talented dancers, and gay. I was going through some rough times with my parents, and Larry and Glenn were just wonderful to me. I don’t know how I could’ve survived without them. Then the worst possible thing happened: Glenn got sick. Really sick. AIDS. He was gone in less than a month.”

  Diana’s sorrow was apparent on her face. “Larry was beside himself with grief. I was the only person he could speak to about it. We became closer during that time, and I convinced him to get an HIV test. A few days later, when he told me he tested negative, well, I was just so relieved.”

  Pete’s eyes focused on her every time she took a breath. He was so drawn by her voice he could barely understand her words. Fortunately he could remember them, and reconstruct their meaning afterward.

  “A few months later, Larry met Jordan, who wasn’t at all like Glenn. I didn’t like him much. I suspected he was cheating on Larry and was terrified he’d get the virus and pass it on to Larry. I’m ashamed to say I let Jordan come between us; we kind of drifted apart. Then early last year, Larry got AIDS.”

  There was rage in her eyes. “Jordan broke up with him immediately; he actually said to Larry, ‘Don’t you be counting on me to take care of you.’ After that, I made sure I saw Larry every day—until I came here last September. Sometimes I went with him to the doctor or the hospital. I knew he must have gotten the virus from Jordan, because he hadn’t had any other lovers since Glenn died. If I disliked Jordan before, well, I now loathed him.

  “During Christmas vacation I ran into him at a party and really told him off, ranted at him: ‘How could you give Larry AIDS and just abandon him like that? What kind of person are you?’ He let me rage. Then without saying a word, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a letter from an HIV testing lab. He’d just gotten the results. I couldn’t believe it. Jordan was HIV negative.

  “When I confronted Larry, he admitted everything. He knew he’d gotten the virus from Glenn, but was afraid of being alone. So he lied—to both of us. Larry is my best friend! I still love him. I think he’s a great person in almost every way. And I still think I know him better than I know anyone else, and I understand why he did it. But he lied. About a matter of life and death. My closest friend endangered another person’s life out of selfishness and fear.

  “As much as I wish it weren’t true, what Pete said about our basic nature is dead accurate.”

  The class broke up at 4:10. Charles Scoggins started to walk toward Pete, but backed off when he saw David West speaking to him.

  “Diana and I were about to grab a bite at the Kong,” David said to Pete. “The Kong” was Hong Kong, a Chinese restaurant about a block from Harvard Yard. “Since you’re the only other freshman in Theo-Soc, we thought it appropriate you join us. My treat, of course. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “In that c-case, uh, I believe I can squeeze you into m-my hectic schedule.”

  It was windy and bone-chillingly cold that afternoon, so the three rushed to the Kong without much conversation. Once comfortably inside the warm restaurant, David and Diana sat down next to each other, thighs touching, unaware of Pete’s raging battle with envy and lust.

  David West and Diana Hsu knew very little about envy from personal experience, but a great deal about lust; from the first time they’d laid eyes on each other, the sexual attraction had been intense and irresistible. On their first date, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves; they were so anxious to tear off each other’s clothes that they’d left the restaurant before the main course was served. They’d stayed up all night making love, or as Diana, describing the date to a friend, had somewhat more delicately put it, “I just couldn’t stop kissing him. We kissed all night; kissed so hard our lips bled.”

  Since then, they hadn’t been apart more than a few hours at a time, except for two weeks during the Christmas holidays. Being separated had been torture, and they intended never to endure it again.

  While the three freshmen scanned their menus, the conversation remained friendly but guarded and from Pete’s point of view, a bit strained. He tried to force himself to sit still, but it was hopeless; he was too nervous. He started rocking, and was sure they noticed. But they acted as if they didn’t.

  After they ordered, Diana asked point-blank, “Pete, tell us what it’s like to be a genius. It must be amazing!”

  “Er . . . I . . . I can’t really describe what it’s like because I have n-nothing to compare it to. Until I was seven I, uh, assumed everyone could remember everything, just like me. I only knew I was smart because people told me I was. All I can tell you is that some things come easy for me, but other things are still v-very hard. F-For example, I don’t think I could invent a joke to save my life. Er, it must be g-great to have wit l-l-like David.”

  In fact Pete had a good sense of humor. He just didn’t have the timing or the delivery except when relaxed, whic
h was rare. David was always at ease with himself, and that was the real difference.

  “What about me? I’m witty too,” Diana protested.

  David answered, “Yes you are, my sweet, but your wit’s far too clever. Mine’s less intelligent, and therefore less threatening.”

  “W-What’s it l-like to have a g-great sense of humor?” Pete asked David.

  “You’re both gonna think I’m not nearly as funny if I tell you what it’s like for me.”

  “Take a risk, David,” Diana urged.

  “Truthfully, humor’s my defense, a way to survive in the world. I had a pretty rough childhood so I had to learn a skill to dig my way out. The skill I taught myself was getting along with people, even the kind who aren’t so easy to get along with. I usually like people anyway, but humor’s the easiest way to get people to like me.”

  Now Pete was intrigued. How could such a dashing fellow as David West have emerged from a rough childhood?

  “What was your family like?”

  “My father was on the lam from bookies, loan sharks, and the police since the day I was born. It would make a great movie; they could call it ‘The Man Without a County.’ My real last name was Witkowsky—my mother changed it so Dad wouldn’t find us.”

  David told this story to his new friend, but did not mention how painful it had been to leave his father, whom he continued to love in spite of everything. He didn’t say that he had learned his father was now living in Las Vegas, nor did he bring up the many times he’d almost called or written him.

  “Today it’s just my mom, my little brother, and me,” David said. “We’re a real close family—maybe because we’ve been through so much together. What about your family?”

  Pete wasn’t ready to tell David and Diana about his brother’s murder. “My parents are p-pretty n-normal. D-David and I d-do h-have s-s-something in common though; technically speaking, my last name isn’t the same as my father’s either. I was, actually uh—a product of artificial insemination. My b-b-biological father was a medical student, so I, uh, I guess my real l-last n-name could’ve been O’Meara.”

  Diana speared a fried won ton from the appetizer platter and offered it to Pete. “Won ton, O’Meara?”

  Pete and David groaned in mock agony, then all three laughed; Diana’s silly pun had broken the ice. The three freshmen didn’t leave the restaurant until well after dark.

  * * *

  Over the ensuing months, their friendship developed. At first Pete had wondered why David was always so nice to him. What does he really want from me? he asked himself. And doesn’t he know how I feel about Diana? But David never changed, and over time Pete became more comfortable.

  Eventually the after-class meetings at the Kong became ritual. David worked out a deal with the owners: free food in exchange for marketing assistance that consisted mainly of printing paper fliers and discount coupons cleverly composed by David, a natural salesman. The three freshmen used Pete’s Compaq 1100 and HP 6500 laser printer. They hired a few high school kids to distribute them throughout campus; David did all the work in 40 minutes a week.

  The restaurant’s business increased by nearly 30 percent and the Kong’s owners were so grateful they allowed Pete’s dog, Skipper, to join them at their booth.

  A politically incorrect satirist, H. L. Mencken, once defined love as “the delusion that one woman differs from another.” Pete, upon reading that quote, chuckled to himself, I definitely suffer from that so-called delusion. He considered Diana the most beautiful female he had ever met, and the most intelligent. Intelligence, he discovered, was for him the most powerful and enduring of aphrodisiacs. Still, he made every effort to hide his feelings, being wise enough to realize that a shy 13-year-old boy stood no chance with such a goddess, especially one in lust with the dashing David West.

  Instead of pursuing Diana, Pete convinced himself he was content to enjoy her company and friendship. Whenever his thoughts of her became sexual, which they often did, guilt would overwhelm him. Pete would think to himself, David’s my friend, damn it! But inevitably the fantasy would return, like a stray cat he had fed once or twice, only to discover she could not be so easily dismissed.

  (Note: The stray cat analogy was used by Pete Armstrong in a November 2049 scip interview.—22g CP)

  Diana became a conveniently impossible standard by which all other females were measured, a fine excuse for Pete to deprive himself of the adventure-and discomfort—of exploring other relationships. David and Diana, although aware of Pete’s crush, never embarrassed him by bringing it up. They came to love him, protective of the boy, yet awed by his genius.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE INSPIRATION

  Memorial Hall

  May 17, 2003—Philip Morris, America’s last surviving tobacco company, is placed into Chapter 7 bankruptcy liquidation. The legal tobacco industry in the United States is now dead, a casualty of lower demand for cigarettes and mushrooming lawsuits from victims of smoking-related diseases.—Students in the United States and Great Britain score highest of all nations on standardized tests in general knowledge, science, and problem-solving skills, the result, analysts say, of national “School Choice” programs instituted in the late 1990s, which opened the field to competition by private industry. In light of these impressive results, most other nations who have not already done so are expected to institute similar programs.—Clean-up continues from last month’s horrific tsunami and floods that hit Tokyo and Yokohama without warning. Over 70,000 Japanese are now presumed dead. Prime Minister Ibuka calls for stricter worldwide enforcement of measures designed to slow global warming. Although unproven, some environmentalists believe the melting of polar ice compounds the effects of tidal waves and the floods they cause.

  Many historical texts note the discussion that took place on this day, in this room. One could argue that within these walls began a desperate battle, the culmination of which, two decades later, would determine the future of the planet.

  Theo-Soc had been dominated by four voices, those of David West, Diana Hsu, Pete Armstrong, and Charles Scoggins. One afternoon in the heat of discussion about America’s overburdened legal system, David posed a question.

  “What do you think would happen if scientists built a machine that could tell with absolute certainty if a person was telling the truth?”

  “You mean like a p-polygraph, only foolproof?” Pete asked. Thoughts of his brother’s murderer flashed into his mind. Maybe such a machine could have kept Reece in prison, or even helped Dr. Carter cure him before he murdered again. A “truth machine” might have saved Leonard’s life.

  “Exactly,” David said. “But this machine would have to be so precise that it could be used as conclusive proof of guilt or innocence in our court system.”

  “I’m sure it would result in a, um, a much f-fairer system of justice.”

  “At what cost?” Scoggins argued. “Would you really want to live in a world where the government could read your thoughts? A machine like that would make it easier for politicians and bureaucrats to root out dissenters to their policies. We’d have a police state.”

  “Actually,” Diana countered, “I have a feeling just the opposite is true. We could use it to keep our leaders honest.”

  David nodded. “It would be an interesting tug-of-war. Of course it’s hard to imagine politicians voting for legislation to turn the machine on themselves. But who’d vote for candidates who refused to take a truth test, especially if their opponents offered to take one?”

  “Evolution probably favors the ability to lie effectively,” Scoggins said.

  “I agree that lying used to be a tool for survival . . .” Pete began.

  Diana interrupted, “And procreation.”

  Pete smiled. “That, too. But today our ability to lie actually threatens our survival.”

  “I don’t see how,” said Scoggins.

  “Already, nuclear technology is easy to obtain,” Pete explained. “B-But in 20 years, nuc
lear weapons will be more powerful, and much smaller. In 10 or 15 years, computers will be able to design genetically engineered viruses that will selectively kill specific segments of a population. In 50 years, they’ll have nuclear poisons capable of killing every mammal on the planet. And when nanotechnology becomes a reality, scientists could design undetectable, self-replicating, microscopic machines of death. V-Very soon, weapons will be so powerful that a war could wipe out all life on earth. Deceit is a major instrument and a major cause of war. Sociopathic dictators, who have always used war to amass power, could never wage war without lying to their populaces. And without deceit, honest conflicts become easier to resolve because each side’s statements are believed by the other.”

  “But it’s human nature to lie at certain times,” Scoggins said. “You can’t change human nature in one generation just by changing the rules.”

  “Er, I think you can.” Pete was fully taken by the argument. “We do adapt to reality. For example, when my brother L-Leonard was six months old, the only way he’d sleep at night was if he could stay between my parents. Even then he was up three or four times. He had the whole household trained to, uh, accommodate his every want and need.

  “Finally my poor sleep-deprived parents put Leonard to bed in his crib. Of course he hated that and started screaming. N-Next, my parents comforted him for a minute or so, then left the room and let him cry for five minutes. Then they came back for a minute and comforted him some more, and left him screaming for 10 minutes. Then 15, then 20. Never more than 20 minutes at a time, always reassuring him they’d be back. In three hours, Leonard was asleep in his crib. The next night, it took less than an hour. After that, he learned to put himself to sleep and always slept through the night in his own crib. And he was happier for it.