The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

“The simple fact is that you can’t hold back progress. Someone else would eventually make the same discoveries, so it might as well be us,” Viktor said.

  “I’m not so sure we should have discovered what we did,” Stephen replied. He wondered about the price that might have to be paid for the privilege of being the pioneers and for seeing what he had. In the Old Testament, anyone who gazed at God died.

  “There’s no point in second-guessing the inevitable. All we can do now is secure the findings and do the best we can with them. I look forward to the day when we can work on this with a full team and I have the answers to all my questions.”

  “Be careful what you ask for. Some questions are better left unanswered, perhaps even yours. Reality may not be what we think it is. You could be in for big surprises.”

  “Reality is clear enough to me. It’s what exists physically. Anything else is mysticism.”

  Smiling wryly, Stephen said, “You’re a good scientist, Viktor.”

  “Well, this good scientist had better return to his office. I’ll talk to you later and get ready for the grand finale of our universe-changing experiments. Do you want to be there?” Viktor said jovially.

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to have to explain my presence. And as long as I don’t see a big cloud or feel any tremors emanating from your lab, I’ll know it went fine.”

  • • •

  As Viktor walked back to his lab, he worried that the Stephen he had known for more than a decade was changing. The world was much closer to a destiny-altering transformation than anyone knew.

  After looking around to make sure no one was nearby, he pulled out the envelope he had prepared earlier and dropped it into the mailbox on the corner.

  • • •

  Stephen swung his chair around and sat facing the window, staring out into the bright morning sky, mentally going over his conversation with Viktor. They would have to be careful indeed.

  He didn’t really understand how he had gotten to this frontier and where it would lead. All he knew for certain was that, despite what he had told Viktor, the things he was working with were definitely more than he was prepared to handle. He prayed that he wouldn’t mess up. As long as he could keep things under wraps, he would be in control.

  Finally focusing on the view outside, Stephen realized that the vibrant blue sky looked wonderful. It was a great day, and he was looking forward to the walk back to his laboratory.

  Chapter 16

  Driving had a calming effect on Dan, particularly in nice weather. The evening was warm and he had the top down. Wind rippled through his hair and massaged his scalp. The sound and vibration of the rumbling engine gave him a sense of power and vitality. The sun had reached the point in its daily transit where it was low enough for rich colors to emerge from the landscape but still high enough to avoid unpleasant glare. He pulled into the street and headed to the Mass Pike, where he carefully merged into the lingering rush-hour and holiday traffic. He figured it would take about twenty minutes to reach Stephen’s.

  He felt relaxed for the first time all day. He’d deal with whatever would transpire at dinner. He’d listen politely, not show any anger or weakness, then be done with it. Indifference would be a far more powerful rebuke than anger.

  He thought back to when he had first met Stephen. Dan’s family had moved from Brooklyn to Hopkinton, outside of Boston. It was the summer right after sixth grade. He was an eleven-year-old city kid moving to the suburbs. A bunch of boys were playing baseball in a field. Dan stood off to the side, watching, until Stephen spotted him and yelled out, “Don’t just stand there. Grab a bat and take a swing.” They quickly became good friends, though that never prevented Stephen from teasing Dan from time to time about how Dan had stood still, too shy to join in on his own.

  Later they attended Holy Trinity High School, run by Franciscan Brothers. Competitive in a friendly way, they pushed each other to excel, getting top grades, leading teams to victory, dating nice girls. They had a wide circle of friends, though Dan and Stephen had remained the closest. They even shared families, treated by each other’s as their own.

  They both wound up at MIT, partly by design, partly by chance. Once there, they left high school, including whatever religion they once had, behind. The Brothers at Holy Trinity had been good, but despite trying their best, couldn’t pass on a lasting faith. As the school motto said, the truth would set them free—and it had, just not the way the Brothers had thought it would.

  Reaching his exit, Dan headed south on Centre Street, a mostly residential area, until it hit Beacon Street. The intersection was Newton’s main square and commercial area. The town had excellent schools, good neighborhoods, and was close to Stephen’s office.

  He thought of Stephen living there, with an extraordinary career to go along with his lovely wife and beautiful daughter, and wondered who could have a better life.

  Apparently, it was so good, there was no room for Dan in it. As resentment started to rise, he caught himself.

  The reality was they had been drifting apart for a long time. There was no big issue. Just distance. As Dan’s recent struggles had increased, his anger at Stephen was fueled mostly by what he felt they had lost more than anything else, and what that had once meant to him. It was time to get over it and not blame Stephen. It didn’t mean he had to like Stephen, but it sure meant he didn’t have to resent or be mad at him.

  Reaching Stephen’s neighborhood, Dan turned onto The Ledges Road, named so because the houses sat on a high rock ridge that backed up to Beacon Street. The area was secluded. Everything was in full bloom. As he parked in front of Stephen’s house, a flood of memories came to him; all the barbecues and parties, the quiet get-togethers they’d had. It was a good-sized, well-landscaped, two-story, Tudor-style home that had beige stucco siding and brown wood trim. On each side of the central entrance, symmetrical wings extended outward.

  Before he could ring the bell, Nancy Bishop opened the door, engulfed him with an embrace, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Nancy’s warmth made him aware of the void in himself while momentarily filling it. He said, “It’s great to see you. I’m looking forward to one of your delicious dinners.”

  Smiling, she took him by the arm and led him inside. Above them was a magnificent chandelier that illuminated her and the large central hall with a comforting glow. It cast dancing shadows from the banisters of the wide circular staircase, directly across from the front door, that led to the second floor.

  She was tall, with a lean but toned body, silky brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes. She radiated affection and caring, none of it artificial or put on. She had the rare ability to be distantly refined, totally self-possessed, and yet immediately present and accessible, all at the same time.

  “Nancy, you’re still the most genuine and gracious person I’ve ever known. And you always look wonderful, never more so than now.”

  Nancy smiled and said, “You’re too kind, but I’ll take the compliment. Why don’t we go into the study and catch up? Something urgent came up for Stephen, but he’ll be right with us.”

  Dan followed her into the room on the right of the hall. They sat down in wing-back chairs facing each other, talking about their families, laughing about things they remembered.

  After a few minutes, Nancy said, “I have to apologize. I won’t be able to stay for dinner. Ava’s undergoing routine tests to make sure everything is still good and I’m spending the night with her. But I promise we’ll have you over again real soon so we can all have dinner together.”

  “Tests for what?” Dan said hesitantly.

  “You didn’t hear?” Nancy asked.

  “Stephen and I haven’t spoken in a long time. Is Ava all right?” Dan asked.

  “She’s fine now, thank God. Last Christmas, Ava was diagnosed with leukemia. Fortunately, it was caught
early and quickly treatable. Today is her one-month checkup since she was declared in remission.”

  The room tilted on Dan. An innocent child having to experience what she had. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for all of them. To potentially lose a child—he couldn’t fathom it. Dan replied solemnly, “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful and scary. I wished I could have helped.” He didn’t know what else to say. What can you say to a parent that offered any wisdom or provided any comfort? All you could do is be there for them. He hadn’t been and felt selfish that he was upset about being denied the chance.

  “We tried keeping it to ourselves. While she was in treatment, our focus was solely on her. For some reason I thought you heard afterward. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I understand. You had a lot to deal with. All that matters is that she is fine now.”

  “She had fantastic care. Her doctor was incredible, looking after Ava as if she were her own.”

  “It’s wonderful you were able to find such outstanding care.”

  “Yes, it was. But enough of Ava’s illness. How have you been? I feel terrible that we haven’t seen you in so long. We’re definitely going to change that,” Nancy said with another warm smile.

  “I’m good. Just taking my time before I figure out what adventure to tackle next.”

  Before Nancy replied, Stephen entered, carrying a beer. He walked over to Dan and eagerly shook his hand, saying, “It’s fantastic to see you. Thanks for coming. I suspect it wasn’t at the top of the list of things you thought you’d do when you woke up this morning, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be glad you did once we discuss what I have in mind. But we can save that for after dinner. For now, how about a beer?”

  Stephen acted confident and comfortable. He still had an athletic build, though he didn’t appear to be in quite his usual shape. There were touches of gray in his mostly black hair, and his hairline was slightly receding. He wore silver wire-frame glasses. Overall, he looked dignified and serious. Not much different than when Dan last saw him, though perhaps wearier.

  Dan took the beer, and said with slight reserve, “Few days turn out the way I think they will. But I am glad that I’m here. Thanks for the invite.”

  “I’m hoping this is the first of many visits,” Stephen said.

  Nancy looked at her watch and said to Stephen, “I should be going.”

  “I’ll walk you to the car,” Stephen said.

  As Nancy and Stephen left, Nancy looked over her shoulder and said, “Hopefully Stephen is good enough company that we’ll see you again sooner than you might think.”

  The words sounded mysterious, almost haunting.

  As he took a big swig of his beer, Dan wondered if what he had referred to as his next adventure might turn out to be much more than he could have anticipated. Nancy and Stephen seemed like they were doing all they could to draw him in.

  Chapter 17

  Sitting in her living room on the thirtieth floor of the high-rise apartment building, Sousan sipped a bourbon, looking out at the Boston skyline.

  She had hoped the day would never have come where she’d be pressed to fulfill the dreaded terms of the agreement that had allowed her family to emigrate from Iran.

  For more than three decades, Sousan had lived a secular life devoted to science. It provided all the meaning and fulfillment that she had sought, free of the religious passions and restrictions that engulfed her homeland.

  In part a form of rebellion against male domination in her old society, in part due to her dedication to her work, as well as a reflection of her discomfort with trusting close, personal relationships, she had never married.

  Even though she tried to be as much of an American as anyone, she still felt like an outsider, as though people couldn’t get past her background.

  Viktor was one of the few she was completely comfortable with, whom she let her guard down around, whom she felt a genuine connection with. Until today, she had always believed he felt the same about her.

  That illusion had been shattered by his excluding her from what had to be the most important research they would ever conduct and his subsequent lies. It left her feeling bitter.

  She swallowed the remaining third of the glass of bourbon and refilled it.

  In spite of it all, she didn’t want to place the call that was expected of her. She was an American. There were people she cared about here, even if some had let her down.

  She debated what to do. Place the call and hopefully be done with it. Or ignore it and hope they’d never find out her involvement; claim, not entirely incorrectly, that she had been kept in the dark. Or tell Viktor and ask for his assistance.

  None of the options was satisfactory.

  Her handlers would eventually find out and extract a penalty. If it was just her, she could deal with that. But she still had relatives back in Iran to be concerned about.

  Resentful at her situation, anger at Viktor’s deceit took over and helped her make the decision.

  Walking over to the filing cabinet in her closet, she opened a lockbox in the top drawer. Removing a disposable cell phone and an untraceable calling card, she dialed the number she memorized long ago.

  After a few rings, a man answered, “Name.”

  “Cybil from Project Icarus.”

  “You’re breaking protocols. Are you secure?”

  She answered, “There have been major developments. Put him on the line.”

  Chapter 18

  Dan looked around the study. It was Stephen’s sanctuary, his favorite place to relax, think, have a drink, or share a moment with friends.

  The room was rectangular and spacious. A long expanse of large windows covered the length of the front side of the room, from knee high almost all the way up to the ceiling. A bench at the base of the windows also spanned the length of the room. The wall opposite consisted of white-painted cabinets from the floor to waist height, with bookshelves on top extending to the ceiling. French doors that opened onto an outside patio filled the wall opposite the study’s entrance. Right inside the entrance was a large mahogany rolltop desk that Stephen had inherited from his grandfather. In the center of the desk, recessed into the back, was a flat-screen monitor. On it, a screensaver drew images of vividly colored, repeating shapes. Some looked lifelike. Near the center of the room was a grand piano that Stephen often liked to play.

  Dan looked at the bookshelves and saw many of the types of books he would expect to see in Stephen’s study. Most focused on biology, evolution, or the human genome. Stephen was an ardent supporter of evolution and Dan knew that Stephen would be scornful and dismissive of the views of the “semi-intelligent” design fringe that believed evolution was directed by God, though they refuse to say it was God they were talking about. A few of the books were written by Stephen and covered complex topics on genetic mechanisms.

  The center shelves were filled with pictures. Properly displayed in the middle were Nancy’s and Stephen’s wedding pictures. Dan had been the best man and appeared in some of the shots. There were also pictures of Stephen’s daughter, Ava, at various ages. She had golden-blond hair and looked angelic, with a radiant smile capable of melting any heart.

  Moving on to the shelves on the right side of the wall, still close to the center, were books on American history, various world civilizations, and a few on the power of myth. Dan was bemused to see the next books. They were on the topic of “the mystery of consciousness,” something he thought was more about the vast complexity of the brain than about any real mystery, except to the superstitious religious seeking a reason to believe in souls.

  Finally, on the far right, was a smaller set of books on spiritual matters. Although Stephen was a serious agnostic with a sound, scientific, analytical, and rational mind, it wouldn’t be surprising if even he had faltered in the face of the unbearable and sought the comfort of the fa
nciful to get him through tough times. Dan looked closer. If all the books were all like the first book on the shelf, Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?, with the concept of a nebulous, weak, and not really relevant God, that would have made sense. But there were also traditionally oriented religious books: The Problem of Pain, Making Sense Out of Suffering, and Miracles. The first was considered a classic by those futilely trying to reconcile suffering and religion; the second was written by a Boston College professor and the third by a more recent, evangelical author.

  The title of the next book, Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book, seemed like something he could get into. He’d had enough of self-help and therapy and looked forward to anything that could put an end to that. The back cover read, “Why is it that the more we know about the world the less we know about human nature?”

  Dan opened it and read, “Are you a self in search of yourself?” He flipped to a different page as quickly as he could and saw, “Can you explain why it is that there are, at last count, sixteen schools of psychotherapy with sixteen theories of the personality and its disorders and that patients treated in one school seem to do as well or as badly as patients treated in any other—while there is only one generally accepted theory of the cause and cure of pneumococcal pneumonia and only one generally accepted theory of the orbits of the planets and the gravitational attraction of our galaxy and the galaxy M31 in Andromeda?” There were also questions about apparently dislocated selves that hit too close to home, disturbing him.

  Dan put the book back just as Stephen returned carrying his own half-full beer.

  “I’m sorry about the news about Ava,” Stephen said. “For some reason, I thought you knew. I apologize for not talking directly with you about it.”

  “I know it must have been hard for all of you. You know I would have done anything you asked.”

  “I know. But Nancy and I were struggling with so much, lots of things were complicated, and we just wanted to keep things as simple as possible. And you and I had our own issues and I didn’t want to use Ava’s illness to overcome them. Had things gotten worse, I definitely would have reached out.”