by John Fast
I glanced at the black windows. Night had fallen in the rain forest. It was time to go.
“Thanks, Paxton,” I said somberly. “You’ve explained a lot of things I didn’t understand, and shown me a lot more things I still have to work out.”
“You’re welcome, John,” he replied.
I walked out the door and down the stairs, completely lost in thought. Then I stepped into the night. I paused for a moment, and looked left and right. I was surrounded by shadows. I jumped onto my mountain bike and pedaled furiously all the way home.
CHAPTER 24.
Lycanthropy
I went to see Alexa the next evening. I had to see her. I felt as if I finally understood her and we could finally talk about everything. I parked my bike in the front yard of her cottage and knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she called from somewhere inside.
I opened the door and stepped into the dusky living room. Alexa was sitting in the far corner, in an overstuffed armchair. Her ash-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and her deep blue eyes gleamed in the half-light. She wore a tight fitting black sports top and tight black shorts. Her white running shoes and socks were strewn on the floor beside her. She sat with one long leg dangling over the arm of the chair and the other long leg thrust under the coffee table. A bottle of water and a bottle of wine stood side-by-side on the table.
“Can we talk?” I asked, wondering why she was sitting in the half darkness.
“Want some?” Alexa asked, lifting the wineglass in her hand.
“Uh … okay,” I replied, not sure if she had heard me.
I went into the kitchen and returned with a glass. She poured the zinfandel, then I sat on the end of the couch nearest to her.
“I saw Paxton yesterday,” I began. “He explained the Ancient Mesopotamian God Code, and the Enkidu Complex. And now I understand what you’ve been going through.”
Alexa closed her eyes and sighed.
“I understand,” I repeated, trying my best to be supportive.
Alexa opened her eyes and studied my face.
“A genius,” she stated flatly.
“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s incredible how Paxton puts everything together, how he makes sense of all the different bits of information. So I get what you were saying the other day about your Enkidu Complex. I feel like I know you better.”
“You know me?” Alexa asked, rousing herself.
“Uh … yes. Better. I think so,” I replied warily, taking a gulp of wine for courage.
“Is it really so easy to know someone, John Fast?” Alexa bristled. “Is it even possible to know yourself?”
“Well … uh … I think ....”
“And is it always a question of knowing, thinking, analyzing?” She inquired pointedly. “Is that how you experience everything, how you make everything real? Or is that just how you keep everything at a distance? How you bottle it up in your science lab? Isn’t that what you want to do with me? Put me in a bottle and label me? I’m one of Mr. Darwin’s rarer specimens, after all. I can already read the label: ‘Alexandra Elena Pavlova: Alpha-Clone, with Enkidu Complex.’”
I glanced at the nearly empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. She followed my gaze and read my thoughts, once again.
“Don’t worry,” she urged. “I’m perfectly lucid. Alcohol concentrates my mind. No matter how much I’ve had to drink, a tiny bright light always keeps burning just behind my eyes. And, of course, the wine also relaxes me. So I can tell you how I really feel. And right now I really feel that I really don’t know you at all, John Fast, and you really don’t know me at all, and that’s true of every other human being. We’re jammed together on this dying planet and we really don’t know each other at all. We live in different universes. And yet we keep up the social pretenses and rituals. We are, oh so civilized. But you know what? I don’t want to be civilized anymore. I’m sick of all that knowing, thinking, analyzing. I’m sick of living in my head. I have an Enkidu Complex, after all, so why shouldn’t I enjoy it? Just a little while ago I was running wild through the Mountain Lakes Nature Preserve and so you should see me as I really am. So look now, genius-boy.”
Alexa set her wineglass on the coffee table, stood up and peeled off her black top. Then she peeled off her black shorts. The half-light, half-shadow of the room lit and shaded the curve and sweep, the flute and volume of her perfectly sculpted body.
“You think you know me, John Fast?“ She asked.
I stared at her luminous form and felt incredibly aroused.
“Stand up,” she commanded.
My hand shook as I set my wineglass on the coffee table. I got up and stood just a few feet away from her.
“Take off your clothes.”
I hesitated for a moment, then obeyed her. When I was done I didn’t know where to put my hands. I felt shy, confused and excited all at the same time.
“How civilized you look now, John Fast, stripped of all your civilization. How proper you look even now.”
“I want to kiss you,” I said, taking a step forward.
She put up her hand and said, “Stop.”
And I did. I was completely in her power.
“You can’t go from there to here,” Alexa said. “You’re, oh so close, and yet, oh so far away in your parallel universe. You think you know me, but all you really know is a projection of your fantasies. All you really see is a holograph of your desires. You talk to me, but you’re really just talking to yourself. And now I’ve suddenly stepped out of the darkness. I’m the wild man, wild woman, wild wolf–more than a little flushed from my run in the woods and the wine. And that’s why I run and drink: so I can escape the civilized world.”
She picked up her wineglass, drained it and put it down again. Then she reached for the wine bottle. My eyes caressed the curve of her throat as she tipped the bottle into the air and swallowed the last golden drop. She put the bottle on the table and sat down in her chair. I started to sit on the couch, but she shook her head. So I remained standing. She looked me up and down, smiling at the tension in my body, the fullness of my erection.
“You’re beautiful,” she said. “Just stand there a minute. I want to look at you.”
She caressed me with her eyes for what felt like a very long time, then she caressed herself. I stopped breathing as I followed the gentle sway of her hand between her thighs. I tried to stand perfectly still, even as I trembled. After awhile Alexa shifted her hips and swung her leg over the arm of the chair again. Her eyes glowed in the twilight.
“It’s only fair,” she murmured. “You should see everything too.”
And I did. I saw the tips of her fingers playing across her inner folds and curves, and I felt like I was on fire. She slowed and quickened her rhythm, in turn, until she locked eyes with me and her orgasm rippled through her body. Then she put her head back and drifted away. I watched over her for a few minutes, until she opened her eyes again and returned from wherever she had gone. She smiled, stood up and spoke softly.
“You don’t know me, John Fast, and I don’t know you. But I do know this: I don’t want romance, I don’t want love, I don’t want a relationship. We’re playing, that’s all. Two wolves in the forest. Do you understand? Are you okay?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Thank you for sharing this … this … moment of wildness with me,” she added, her eyes glistening. “I’m going to take a shower now, and I’ll see you when I see you.”
She stepped into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the water.
I stood still for another moment as I struggled to find my way back to the civilized world. Then I gingerly slipped on my underwear and pants. I put on my shirt, socks and shoes and stood before the bathroom door. I listened to the shower and imagined the water streaming down the full length of her body. I lingered for a few seconds, then I turned away and went out the front door.
I tried to sort through my feelings as I walked my bike home in the dark.
I was thrilled and bewildered at the same time, frustrated and even a little angry.
“Playing?” I muttered to myself.
Of course I’d wanted to do everything she had asked me to do, and more. And I was happy we had shared that moment, even though my body ached with desire. I never felt closer to Alexa, and I never felt further away. I knew her better now, and I didn’t know her at all. As I cut across the grounds of Newton Commons I decided I wasn’t going to fall in love with her, I wasn’t going to go crazy over her, and I wasn’t going to obsess about her–whoever, or whatever, she was. I wanted to be free as much as she wanted to be free. And yet I also knew I would remember the perfectly restrained wildness of that late spring evening for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 25.
Jinn, Genie, Genius
I searched for patterns and yearned for Alexa throughout my second year of highschool. Whenever I visited her I hoped we would return to her wild place, but we didn’t. The next year Aster, Isabel, Michael and I attended the Institute Français, in Paris, while Alexa went to Oxford. She was so busy pursuing her undergraduate degree in Political Economy that we met only once, for an afternoon stroll through the British Museum. And we talked only a few times on the phone. My siblings and I returned to Princeton for our senior year of highschool and, before we knew it, we were graduating.
The Highbrid Highschool’s amphitheater was, once again, filled to capacity on that rainy Thursday afternoon, in early June, 2037. The graduation ceremony was almost over when Professor Alvarez returned to the podium.
“The Valedictory Address will be delivered by John Fast,” the Headmaster announced.
I walked to the podium, speech in hand, nervous as hell.
“Thank you Professor Alvarez,” I began, my voice breaking. “The title of my address is, ‘The Genius of Nature and the Nature of Genius.’”
Of the all different topics I’d pursued in highschool, this topic had intrigued me the most. It was the central theme of all my questions. In fact, it was the central theme of my existence. What, after all, was the point of my struggle to understand myself and to decipher the cosmic tree? What was the point of my search for the connections among the sciences, for the key to all codes? What, for that matter, was the point of the Highbrid Protocol? What was it all about if not to discover the genius of nature and the nature of genius? I had filled page after page of my notebooks and journals with speculations, analyses, histories, then I had synthesized the results. And I was finally ready to outline my preliminary conclusions. So I stood up straight, scanned the text of my speech for the tenth time that morning, and started to read.
“The Highbrid Protocol is based on the assumption that the genetics of genius can be selected and nurtured. And yet, what exactly is genius? How do we define it?
“The Oxford English Dictionary traces the word, ‘genius,’ back to the Greek, ‘gignesthai,’ to be born, come into being, and to the Latin, ‘gignere,’ to beget. In its original sense the word referred to the guardian spirit, assigned at birth, who guided a person’s character and fortune.
“In the sixteenth century the word, ‘genius,’ in association with the Arabic, ‘jinn,’ or ‘genie,’ sometimes referred to demons and other magical beings. Likewise, it evoked an individual’s disposition, natural ability, or quality of mind.
“In the eighteenth century the term acquired its modern sense, referring, in general, to extraordinary artistic and intellectual powers and, in particular, to the person possessing these powers.
“In the late twentieth century, however, some cultural historians suggested that the genius, in this now familiar sense, never really existed. They argued that the genius-hero was, in effect, a figment of the overheated imagination of the Romantic Era. And they suggested that this figment served to reinforce the bourgeois prejudices of gender, class and race. And these cultural historians had a point. Even today, for example, outside of this amphitheater, how many women come to mind when the word, ‘genius,’ is evoked? How many craftsmen? How many Navajo?
“In the first years of the 21st century, some behavioral psychologists suggested that if the quality of genius does, in fact, exist, then it certainly does not spring from a divine spirit, an innate character, a heroic personality, or a genetic formula. Instead, they argued that the quality of genius starts with an above average aptitude that is nurtured over the years by opportune circumstance, high motivation and deliberate practice, practice, practice. Mozart, according to this theory, was just another above average musician as a child, but his musical father, musical society, musical ambition, and musical practice transformed him into the musical genius that he became.
“Of course, the behavioral psychologists have always tried to legitimate their arguments by turning their behaviorist presuppositions into first principles. And yet isn’t it much more likely that a certain genetic predisposition for extraordinary intelligence and talent–in combination with opportune circumstance, high motivation and deliberate practice–leads to the successful emergence of genius? And isn’t that why the Genetic Institute, the Highbrid School and the Highbrid Community, along with our own, individual, circumstances, motivations and practices, are all essential to the success of the Highbrid Protocol?”
I began to feel more confident, so I looked up at the audience. I could tell by the stillness in the room that I had their attention. So I forged ahead.
“We are the subjects of an experiment which is testing the hypothesis that the genetics of genius can be selected and nurtured. And so for us it is vital to answer the question: How, exactly, do we define genius? Our everyday use of the term relies on a pragmatic sensibility. For us, the work of genius defines genius. In other words, ‘By their fruits you shall know them.’ However, this pragmatic approach still doesn’t define genius so much as it reduces the word to an ad hoc label, applied to post hoc facts.
“Therefore, we must ask and ask again: How, exactly, do we define genius? I would suggest that the nature of genius can only be understood in the wider context of the genius of nature. And how can we understand the genius of nature? We must back up a bit before we can answer that question.
“The emergence of our particular universe was probably as contingent and nonlinear as anything we can imagine. Who knows how many other possible and impossible universes there might be and might not have been? And who knows where our particular universe fits within the larger context of these existent and non-existent alternatives? And yet once the fluctuations of chance and the parameters of necessity began their relatively local dance, then a relatively local process of evolutionary complexity began to unfold. In other words, as the science of physics reminds us every day, some things could happen in our particular universe while other things could not happen. And it is in this context that I would like to propose my definition of genius. I would like to suggest that the genius of nature and the nature of genius can be found in the dynamic complexity and transformational power of the contingent, nonlinear evolutionary algarithms which unfold our universe. In effect, genius is a stream, or a confluence of streams, of evolutionary algarithms.
“The history of our universe reveals the genius of nature and the nature of genius in this sense. Think of all the countless permutations and non-permutations, all the possibilities and non-possibilities that could and could not occur within the fluctuations and parameters of our universe. Think how that long term contingent and nonlinear evolutionary process established the conditions for the possibilities of life. And think how, with the improbable emergence of life, our relatively local cosmic codes attained a new level of complexity and transformation. In sum, the history of the universe and the emergence of life manifest the genius of nature and the nature of genius. And that is why we can speak, for example, of the genius of the sycamore tree.
“Every single day the sycamore tree transforms the evolutionary algarithms of earth and air, fire and water into its living, breathing cellular structures. And how, you might ask, is it possible
that the sycamore tree can do this? Because, I would answer, the sycamore tree is, itself, already, a highly complex transformation of these same evolutionary algarithms. That is, the codes of earth and air, fire and water flow the tree and the tree flows these codes. And so the sycamore tree is a perfect example of the genius of nature. And as such it can help us understand the nature of genius.
“If the Big Bang initiated the conditions for the possibilities of the emergence of the algarithms that evolved the universe, life, mind, consciousness, then think how we further evolve and transform these same algarithms in the ever richer and ever more self-reflexive ways we call, science, philosophy, art. And think, specifically, how the extraordinary minds of our species, our celebrated geniuses, develop these algarithms in even more dramatic ways.
“Think, for example, how the evolutionary algarithms of mathematics and logic flow the minds of Pythagoras, Plato, al-Khuwarizmi, Descartes, Leibniz, Newton, Boole, Frege, Godel, Church, Post, Turing–and all our modern computers, meta-computers and the global stream itself. And think how, in turn, these varied geniuses flow these algarithms. Think how they further evolve and transform them. Similarly, think how the evolutionary algarithms of poetry, music, biology and physics flow the minds of Shakespeare, Mozart, Darwin and Einstein, and think how, in turn, these extraordinary persons flow these algarithms. Think how they further evolve and transform them. And that’s why the same ingenious thoughts and images can and do occur to different people in different places at similar times. Precisely because when the cumulative algarithmic possibilities of certain thoughts and images reach new levels of intensity and force, then they’re ready to be further channeled and transformed by the minds best prepared for them.