by Robert Graf
A search for “Isaac Young Catholic” yielded a link to a Jesuit portal. A single reference listed him as a member of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. What were” Causes of Saints”? She couldn't reconcile the beer-drinking, woman-chasing, political activist with a Catholic priest. What was the time in Rome? She looked it up —nine hours ahead. Should she contact him? Not in her robe and no makeup. First a shower and breakfast.
Ann checked her appearance in the refrigerator mirror. Makeup hid most of the dark circles under her eyes, and that would have to do. She switched on the tablet's webcam, mentally crossed her fingers and tapped Isaac's link. Would he talk to her?
A window popped up with the Vatican's crossed-keys logo, seconds later replaced by a curly-haired, slender man in a black cassock, seated in a tiny wood-paneled office. His angular face advertised his years; she instantly recognized him.
She'd mentally braced herself, yet the reality shook her, and she forgot her prepared spiel. She tried not to stare, but couldn't help it. "Isaac, is that really you? A priest? My God!" She blushed at her faux pas.
Isaac’s brow wrinkled in annoyance, then his face lit up in a delighted smile. "Ann? I'll be..." He stopped midsentence and regained his composure. "I'm at a loss for words. Yes, it's me, although I answer to Brother Isaac these days. To what do I owe this incredible surprise?"
All her pent-up tension drained away. She'd been prepared for rejection. "Before I answer, bear with me a moment. Are you alone?"
"That's a strange question, and yes, I am.” He frowned. “I must tell you, I don't hide anything from my superiors."
"I'm not asking you to. Have you kept up with the quantum physics literature?"
His face crinkled in a puzzled expression. "I skim the abstracts and read the occasional article. After all these years you didn't call to discuss physics."
"Not exactly," she answered, hunting for the padlock icon indicating a secure connection; she spotted it. "Have you followed the fuss in the blogosphere about quantum communication?"
He frowned in concentration. "If I remember right, you and your husband championed the minority view. The majority held that entangled communication required repeater nodes."
She shook her head. "Not necessary with our system. There's just one little problem. Certain types of messages won't transmit."
He cocked his to the side, gazing at her. "That's rather mysterious, Ann."
She’d told Hooper, now tell him. "Isaac, falsehoods, lies disappear. EntComs are truth detectors." Seeing his puzzled expression she hurriedly continued. "I don't mean truth in the narrow sense of a witness's testimony, I mean any event that ever happened. The communication ability depends on the system's quantum state. We've discovered that the past —history—is a physical property of that state. The EntComs can access that past relative to the entanglement date. We tested well-documented historical events, and the EntComs got every one right. We haven’t the foggiest idea how it works. It's very disturbing, even frightening." There, she’d said it.
His eyes widened in astonishment. "Any event that ever happened? That's the most extraordinary statement I've ever heard. I don't mean to be insulting, but can you prove that?" He fixed her with a piercing stare. "Of course you can, or you wouldn't have called. Can you give me an example?"
“I tried sending ‘Christopher Columbus did not discover America.’ It failed.”
Isaac stared at her, mouthing something silently.
“What?”
“I was reciting a prayer for guidance.”
Thank the gods, he believed her. "The knowledge gives me nightmares. I've informed my CEO, but he's focused on the business side, though it won't take long for the implications to sink in. That's what bothers me; truthfully, it scares me. What will he do? What will others do?"
"You expect me to know? Why don't you ask your husband? One thing I am certain of: those in power will resist anything that challenges that power. You're right to be concerned." His expression turned thoughtful. "Why did you really call?"
Because he’d helped her once, and she couldn’t think of anyone else. "You're not corporate, and my husband's on the moon. If I brought this up on the physics blogs I’d be crucified. You have the background to understand what I'm talking about. Most importantly I felt you’d believe me."
"I should be flattered, I suppose. You never lied, even when that was the easy way out." He blinked and focused on her. “What do you want to do?”
She wanted to hide under the covers. She forced a smile. "I’m going to figure out how this works, and that will take time, time I don’t have."
“What do you expect of me?”
"Just having someone to confide in is comforting. If you have any ideas you can call me on my private link or my office tablet." She read off the codes.
"I'll keep these confidential. Well, you've given me plenty to think about.” He paused. "One last thing, read Genesis 3."
"Because?"
"I don’t think God has a sense of humor."
His image vanished, replaced by the Vatican's logo.
Ann stared at the crossed keys. She had been so wrapped up in her worries she forgot to ask what he did. What did she truly fear? Being locked in a room somewhere, forced to do corporate's bidding? That didn't make sense. Sure, she knew enough to cobble together a prototype, but not how to engineer a production version. Corporate knew how to build EntComs. Did that meant Farid was at risk? What about Jon?
In one sense her personal fears were irrelevant; what mattered was how the world would react. Isaac's reaction confirmed her unease; those with power would never give it up. She couldn’t let that stop her; she’d find an answer.
◆◆◆
Ann removed her windbreaker and shook it, scattering drops of water across the tiled floor. "A little late this morning," the younger guard said as she signed the logbook.
"Yes, Craig. I waited for the drizzle to let up; of course it didn't."
"Weather forecast says it'll last the day. Engineer Farid called in sick. He expects to be back tomorrow."
"Thank you." She walked down the corridor and through the "Restricted" door into the lab. She hung her windbreaker up, sat in front of the prototype and regarded the blank screens. She'd thought long and hard last evening and on her way to work this morning. The questions she'd considered Sunday paraded across her mind. Dare she try one?
She pulled the keyboard closer and sent "God does exist." The statement appeared on the receiving screen. She changed to "does not", hesitated, and sent it without error. "What the hell does that mean?" she muttered, bewildered. Must be the same problem with the Present they’d seen Friday.
She'd told Isaac she was frightened, scared of her discovery. She’d read Genesis. The real point of the Eden tale was that God was a control freak. That could be tested. She typed "God did expel Adam from the garden of Eden", hesitated, then sent it. To her utter astonishment the message transmitted without error. The Old Testament was factual? She shivered. That led down paths she didn't want to explore. She needed more data, something only she knew. What about the obvious? Did she want to revisit that painful episode?
She typed, "Allen Summers committed suicide," and sent it.
The message began blinking.
She stared, shocked, unable to accept what her eyes beheld. She toggled reset. With shaking hands she sent, "Allen Summers did not commit suicide."
The message flashed on the receiving screen.
Ann sank down in the chair, numb. This can't be happening. Was she completely wrong about the EntComs? No. Thirty historical events they’d tested agreed with Wikipedia. That wasn’t coincidence.
"He's dead," she told the prototype. It didn’t answer.
The horrible episode was seared on her memory.
He’d stopped by her dorm room to tell her he passed the Graduate Record Exam. “That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. “And you hardly studied. I’m proud of you
.”
He pushed her away and smiled. “Who needs to study when you can get a copy of the test online.”
Ann stared at him, not understanding. “What did you do?” she demanded.
“Hey, don’t get your panties in a knot. Nobody will find out.”
The enormity of what he’d done sank in, and she exploded in anger. “I never cheat,” she yelled “How could you? It’s unethical.”
He snorted. “Ethics are for losers. I cheated, so what?”
She stepped back and looked at him, really looked at him for maybe the first time. This was the man she was going to live with? She felt cold, removed. “This is what. You’re going to confess to the department Chair and beg forgiveness.”
His expression hardened. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I’ll do no such thing.”
“Then I will.”
He slapped her, hard. Her head jerked back at the blow. She lifted her hand to her cheek, feeling the beginning bruise. “You hit me,” she cried in disbelief.
“Yeah. Any more nonsense and I’ll do worse.”
She felt numb, in shock and afraid. He meant it. She had to save herself. “OK, I won’t. Look, it’s late and I have an early class. Call me tomorrow.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Hey, it’ll be alright. See you later.”
She reported him to the department Chair and stayed off campus with a girlfriend to avoid him. He was expelled and left campus without telling anyone. That's when she took up Aikido and met Isaac. She vowed no one would ever hit her again.
Weeks later his mother called and screamed at her, “Allen killed himself over you, you fucking slut. I hope you rot in hell!”
Ann became depressed and started drinking and skipping classes. Isaac saved her sanity. After a brief affair, ended by mutual consent, they remained friends. A boyfriend later she met Jon.
What was the truth? Did it matter? Allen was gone from her life. Yet she couldn't let it go. The uncertainty gnawed at her. She returned to her office and entered 'Allen Summers' in the Search box. There were millions of hits, no help there.
Try the full name, Allen Percival Summers. Better, only several hundred thousand. She scrolled through the pages. There, a link to a Columbian newspaper article about a local drug lord. She muddled through the Spanish and found the reference:
Allen Summers fue matado.
Ann sat back, stunned, and checked the date: About when his mother had called. Why would his mother lie? Dead was dead. A sudden realization jolted her. This was just a taste of using truth checking. She couldn't continue. Back in the lab she stared at the impossible message: "Allen Summers did not commit suicide." She cleared the screens and tried to blank out her memories.
All right, let's do this scientifically. Cut open a chicken and stir the entrails? She giggled, barely containing her near-hysteria. Other languages? She knew enough German to read the physics literature. She sent "Im Jahre 1492 Christopher Columbus entdeckte die Americas". It passed; the negative failed.
“What the hell are you?” she muttered and reset the system.
The only corroborating evidence was the EntComs and the prototype behaved the same. Identical statements tested on two systems were reproducible. She couldn't ask the prototype about the EntComs, they were in its future. She’d have to persuade Jon to use the EntComs to check on the prototype. What could she ask? What was the snake's line in the old Disney movie she'd loved as a child? "Trust in me."
She laughed out loud.
[Wednesday, Vatican City]
Brother Isaac Young stood at attention and tried to hide his nervousness. Cardinal Balsamo wore his predatory frown, giving nothing away. Gossip among the junior clergy was he never smiled.
"Any event that ever happened?" the Cardinal repeated, clasping his hands on his desk. "You expect me to believe this incredible claim because you believe this woman? You assist the Congregation for the Causes of Saints, yet you accepted her unsubstantiated word?" Unblinking brown eyes bored into Isaac. "I'm disappointed in you."
Isaac flushed. "She is a respected scientist, and I've never known her to lie. What possible motive could she have to deceive me? I reviewed the literature and blogs about her company's quantum communication system. It works, or NASA would never have purchased it."
Balsamo shook his head. "The physics I accept. This other God-like ability is too fantastic. It's beyond belief, verging on heresy. Remember the weeping image of the Virgin you investigated last year? You determined the so-called tears were faked. Where are your analytic skills now?"
Isaac hid his growing frustration. "Your Eminence, once NASA uses the system, if this ability is real, it will become public knowledge. It will be impossible to conceal. We must be prepared."
"You presume to tell me what the Church should do?"
He'd gone too far. "Forgive me, Your Eminence. I meant only to warn you of the possibility."
"You are to tell no one else about this. For your arrogance you will perform penance until vespers. You are dismissed."
Isaac bowed his head, backed out and closed the door.
Cardinal Claudio Balsamo gazed at the door without seeing it. What a fantastic tale. Yet if even a tiny part were true? He gazed out his office window onto the ancient cobblestones of the Piazza del Santo Uffizio. He couldn't dismiss it out-of-hand. He was painfully aware of the social networks that spanned the globe like a metastasizing cancer. Even the barest hint of such a capability could have a devastating impact on the Church.
All it would take was a persistent rumor that a new technology, vouched for by a respected scientist, had proven a tenet of the Church to be false. Or any dirty laundry the Church didn't want paraded publically. It didn't matter if the tale were absolutely false, only belief mattered. And that was the irony.
Deep down he was afraid, very afraid it was too late. Destroy the device? Those days were gone, relics of the Inquisition. Just what did he want to preserve? The Church had existed for two thousand years and was worth any sacrifice, wasn't it? He shivered. Where was his faith? He would do penance later.
He opened his appointment calendar. The Congregations' monthly meeting was next week. Should he put this woman’s impossible claim on the agenda? The prefects would be incredulous and demand proof or dismiss it outright. He hesitated, unsure as to what course to take. That told him how unsettled he was; he never was undecided. He needed more time to contemplate and pray for guidance.
A glimmer of an idea brought a smile to his lips. He would wait to tell the others.
[Wednesday, Petaluma]
Ann studied the black EntCom and spare core resting on the floor. They'd be shipped too soon, and she'd be left with the prototype. Better than nothing, it had Jon’s fix.
Farid regarded her with a somber expression. "Tomorrow I check in to San Francisco for a new assignment." He hesitated and glanced down.
She took pity on him. "You want to know how truth checking works."
“Yes.”
"The simple answer is we don't know."
He stared at her, clearly not believing her. "But it’s your invention."
"Yes, still this incredible behavior is a total shock."
He blinked. "You will figure it out, I have faith." He held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Dr. Grey."
Ann shook his hand. "I’m grateful for everything you've done, and I'll make sure the VP knows it. I do apologize if I've been abrupt with you."
Farid smiled. "Understandable, Inshallah" He removed his lab coat, donned his jacket and left.
Ann gazed at the closed door with mixed emotions, then returned to her office. Her tablet’s message icon blinked at her, and she tapped it.
Hooper's frowning visage appeared. "Dr. Grey, have you learned anything more about truth checking?"
She stared at him, too startled to respond.
"Did you hear me?"
She blinked. "Yes, sir I mean no sir, we’ve barely begun. Jon's mod worked for the proto
type, and the EntComs are ready for installation."
No change of expression. “Good. One more thing, NASA expects to see a final draft of the operating manual by next week. "
Hooper's image vanished with the window.
She returned to the lab and stopped in front of the wall screen. Jon was still seated at the remote EntCom.
"Hooper’s bugging us about the manual."
"Yeah. He yanked my techs away, so I've got no help. I notice you've got Farid."
"He's gone, reassigned. I suspect MacDougal's paranoia. Anyway, there's nothing we can do about it. "
Jon grimaced. "Just what we need. Hooper's micromanaging again. The NASA people are already bugging me. They want the manual before I install the EntCom."
Ann couldn’t hide her impatience. "We have to figure out how truth-checking works. It throws everything we knew about quantum mechanics out the window. This is Nobel stuff. The EntComs are functional, and that should satisfy NASA." Seeing his annoyed expression, she added, "I know the manual is important, but once we deliver we only have the prototype, and it's old tech."
"You want to publish?” He waved his hands dismissively. “We’d be laughed out of town. Can you imagine the reviews? Anyway, Hooper would never let us."
Why didn't he see they had to publish now? "Have you forgotten what you said? Once NASA starts using them they'll find out, and the whole world will know. It doesn't matter what Hooper wants. Just because Global bought us out doesn't mean he owns us."
"Look, Ann, it does matter. Hooper could ruin us; his lawyers would tie us in knots. Be reasonable, we'll have a couple weeks once NASA gets the EntComs."
"Damn it, we won't have time." She tried to calm down. "You keep concentrating on the manual; I'll help you. I’ll concentrate on the physics just as Hooper ordered. We can do both. We have exactly one week, and I won't waste it."
His expression hardened. "All right. We need each other now, but don't ever ask for another favor."
