The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

  Dan had read that at a young age, Octoavio had emigrated from an eastern European country and arrived penniless in America with his family. He excelled at everything he did, quickly amassing a small fortune on Wall Street that he turned into a much larger fortune in international finance, including currency trading. Nary a rumor or inkling of scandal or poor behavior accompanied his rise. A solid family man, he had a long marriage to his childhood sweetheart, who had passed away a few years earlier. After a period of grieving, he had dedicated himself to philanthropy and science with the aim of improving the human condition. It was in this capacity that he had founded HBC and was now the chairman of the corporation whose research Stephen Bishop led. Given all of this, it was remarkable that he apparently had no escort, no security with him in the building, just a limo and a driver out front.

  Quickly taking in the room, Octavio noted Dan with the slightest of raised eyebrows, smiled fully and warmly at Stephen, and then said, “Stephen, my excellent lab director, I was hoping you’d be gone by now. Then we could have arranged to have a pleasant drink somewhere before I have to head over to the boring reception whose invitation you’ve turned down, leaving me to fend for myself.”

  “You unduly flatter me. I’m quite certain there are many more interesting people than me at the foundation’s party. In fact, if I’m not careful, you might meet fascinating Nobel Prize winners and decide to replace me.”

  “Nonsense. I’d take you over any of them. Your research is extraordinary. But just what are you doing here on a day like this?”

  “I need to apologize for my poor manners in not introducing my childhood friend, Dan Lawson. Dan has been joining my family on the Cape for as long as I can remember, and after a few years’ hiatus, he’s staying with us this weekend. He wanted to see my office. He’s part of the reason I had to decline your invitation to the barbecue.”

  “Welcome, Mr. Lawson. Anyone whom Stephen has been friends with so long must be someone of great character. If there is an opportunity, I’d enjoy having a cocktail with both of you. Alas, it apparently can’t be this weekend. I’m sorry that Stephen has dragged you here on a day with weather as beautiful as this.”

  Before Stephen could reply further, Dan answered, “I’ve always wanted to see his office. We’re only taking a quick look and then getting back to the beach. The view out the windows is just as spectacular as he said.”

  “Yes it is. What do you do, Mr. Lawson?”

  “I’m a computer network consultant,” Dan said, providing the least amount of information he could.

  “Well, if you know anything about IT security, I may need your help. HBC’s Information Security Officer tells me that we recently experienced a series of cyber attacks. We’ve had no luck tracking them down. In today’s world, you can’t be too secure.”

  “I’m afraid that’s all too common these days.”

  “I’ll have Stephen give me your information. For now, I must be off. Let me know the next time you’re here. I’d love to have both of you join me on my yacht for cocktails. It’s berthed at Woods Hole and I always enjoy visitors.”

  Stephen said, “I’ll definitely do that. Thank you.”

  With that, they shook hands and walked out together.

  After Octavio drove off, Stephen said, “We’ll have to finish up some other time. Though he’s not someone I’m worried about, there’s no need to raise suspicions.”

  “Are you still going to Falmouth Hospital to meet up with Dr. Alighieri?”

  “You can call her Trish, and yes I am.”

  “What is she doing there?”

  “Trish is checking in on a patient. Ava is with her, too. They became friends when Ava was sick. I also want to see how the girl is doing and say hello to her parents.”

  Somberly, Dan said, “I hope things turn out well for her.”

  “So far, so good.”

  “That’s great. You don’t mind that I go for a run from here while you do that?”

  “No. I’ll take your extra clothes back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “See you at the house.”

  Chapter 25

  Dan was lying in the hammock near the water when Dr. Alighieri returned from Falmouth Hospital, saying the young patient was doing very well.

  After Trish entered the house, Stephen came over to Dan and said, “How was your run?”

  “Felt great. I ran on the bike path into Woods Hole, then back along the Falmouth Road Race course to the finish line, and then back here.”

  “Twelve miles. Not bad for an old, out-of-shape man.”

  “I’m neither, though I could really use some hydration and carbohydrates. Perhaps at the same time.”

  “Beer isn’t good for you at this time of day,” Stephen said teasingly.

  “Then a large glass of iced tea, followed by a beer, would be perfect,” Dan replied.

  “Most of the time, I like playing the role of gracious host. Of course, there are always exceptions,” Stephen said.

  “I appreciate your hospitality. Some music would be nice, too.”

  “That will be later, at Liam’s.”

  “That’s worth waiting for,” Dan said.

  “It looks like it is not an either-or situation,” Stephen said as patio speakers began to play music from the Martha’s Vineyard radio station, WMVY, and Nancy and Trish walked out carrying several beers. Ava ran out behind them, hurried over to the hammock, and jumped on it opposite Dan.

  “Hey, squirt,” Dan said to Ava. Trish handed him a beer then sat down on a deck chair next to Nancy and Stephen.

  “You’re in my hammock,” Ava said.

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  To avoid awkwardness and seem friendly, though he still felt uneasy, he glanced over at Trish. “It seems like everyone is having a nice, relaxing day.”

  Trish nodded and said, “Not a care in the world.”

  “That used to be how I felt until it seemed I’d never feel that way again. I’m glad I was wrong,” Dan found himself shocked to say. He was uncomfortable with what he’d spontaneously revealed with a frankness that was completely uncharacteristic for him. There was definitely something odd about Trish Alighieri, and it brought out something strange in him as well. He wasn’t sure what to think about it.

  “I love hearing you say you’re wrong,” Stephen said, a huge smile crossing his face.

  “That’s because you have to say it so often to me,” Dan jousted back.

  “And here I thought you were getting over your delusions.”

  “Have they always spoken to each other like that?” Trish said to Nancy.

  “Always,” Nancy said with mock resignation.

  “It’s amazing they’re still friends.”

  “Amazing indeed,” Nancy answered.

  Trish turned to Dan. “How long have you known each other?”

  “Stephen since we were eleven. I met Nancy early in college. After quickly realizing she had better taste in men than me, I introduced her to Stephen, for which they are still insufficiently grateful,” Dan said.

  “Trust me, I am extremely grateful, in both regards,” Nancy said, laughing.

  “I left out that there was a gap in between when I met Nancy and when I introduced her to Stephen. I liked having my bachelor friend and knew, once they met, that would be it for him,” Dan said.

  “You have good insight into people,” Trish said.

  “Except himself,” Stephen said.

  “That hardly makes me unique. I believe we took a philosophy class that asserted that the one thing we truly couldn’t know is ourselves,” Dan said.

  Stephen chuckled. “You’ve made an art form of that.”

  “Despite what these guys are saying, Dan was a remarkable guy back then, and not bad now, either,” Nancy said. “A near autodid
actic, quick mind, and kind heart. We met at a big-brother and big-sister organization.”

  “That’s a pretty good thing for a college guy to be doing,” Trish said.

  “Someone told me that was the place to met soft-hearted college women with poor judgment in men,” Dan said.

  “Fortunately for me, there was a limit to Nancy’s soft-heartedness,” Stephen said.

  “Actually, she was saving it for those more in need,” Dan said.

  “Where are you sleeping tonight?” Stephen said, smiling.

  “I meant the child services organizations she still helps run. That takes both a tough and tender heart. Puts us both to shame,” Dan said.

  “I’m not sure I like being an observer as you two talk about me,” Nancy joked.

  “I’ll change the subject then,” Dan said. “Trish, what do you think about scientists’ someday being able to engineer life?”

  Neither of the women seemed bothered by the abrupt change in topic.

  “It’s scary but seems unavoidable,” Trish answered reservedly.

  “So’s death,” Dan replied.

  “Maybe not, if I’m really successful,” Stephen said.

  “I haven’t yet met anyone I think should be immortal, except your wife and daughter,” Dan answered.

  “Good answer,” Trish added.

  Looking at Stephen, Dan said, “Given what appears to be your renewed religious beliefs, at least as the books in your study and conversation the other night seem to indicate, which include God mixing up speech to keep humans from building a tower that could reach him and expelling Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden to keep them from eating from the Tree of Life, aren’t you afraid of what might come of your attempts to read what some would call God’s handwriting? God, if he exists, might not like it.”

  “This is the second time you’ve told me this,” Stephen said.

  “When was the first?”

  “When you told me about what happened with Pavel Sarasov. His words have rung in my ears for years, and the papers of his you gave me helped trigger part of my work,” Stephen answered.

  Touching the scar on his arm, a remnant of the tragic night with the Sarasovs, Dan said, “I think I am going to have to learn a lot more, about a lot of things. I’ve always liked thinking that coincidences are a matter of odds and opportunity. What if there is more to it?”

  “Then there might be a plan for you,” Stephen said.

  “If so, it would help if whoever did the planning did a better job of it.”

  “How do you know what you’re experiencing isn’t best for you?”

  “If that’s true, I need a new way of thinking about things.”

  “Exactly. I’ve got books inside that might interest you.”

  “Can I take them with me when I go back to Boston? I think I need Liam’s first.”

  Stephen laughed. “You might need Liam’s afterward.”

  Chapter 26

  Dan and Stephen had started patronizing Liam Maguire’s, a restaurant and Irish pub, when it first opened in the early nineties. They had spent many a night there since then, downing pints, listening to music, and occasionally singing along, badly, to traditional Irish tunes.

  On this evening, the restaurant was filled with patrons of all ages. The rectangular main dining area occupied most of the space. A bar ran the length of one side, while a small platform, just big enough for three performers, served as a stage on the other side. Irish music memorabilia and framed sayings were scattered along the cream-colored walls. A clock by the bar counted down the days, hours, and minutes to St. Patrick’s Day. Banjos and guitars hung at the back of the stage. An autographed picture of Tommy Makem hung nearby, paying homage to the Irish bard, one of the godfathers of Irish music.

  Dan and Stephen sat off to the right of the stage and were nearing the end of their first beer. As they had walked the half mile from the house, they weren’t about to hold themselves to a strict limit, though their pace and limit these days were, wisely, slower and lower than in their youth.

  Dan looked across the small table at Stephen, who was staring off into space with his chin resting on his open hand. “What’s up with you? I’m supposed to be the one with the questionable state of mind.”

  “I’m just trying to make sense of a few things,” Stephen replied pensively.

  “Now you do sound like me. Don’t forget you promised explanations. They’d better be compelling. If I don’t like what I hear, my skills could just as easily make your life miserable as help you,” Dan said with a smile.

  “You don’t need technology to make people miserable,” Stephen answered wryly. “Anyway, I’ll tell you soon enough. First I have a question for you. I need you to answer it seriously. As someone who doesn’t believe in God, tell me how you, in the role of God, would prevent human suffering. Would you stop all suffering? Only the most severe? Or only what you considered unjustified? And, as a formerly well-educated Catholic school student, explain to me how your answer relates to the meaning of life and happiness. How would you explain to someone that their request for a miracle would not be granted but someone else’s would?”

  “What’s this got to do with your work? I don’t think this is the time or place for a discussion of this nature, even if I was willing to have it—which I’m not,” Dan answered, doing his best not to show his annoyance.

  “Humor me for a minute. It’s relevant. If something had happened to Ava today, maybe a car swerved into her when she was riding her bike, how should we view it? Should God’s hidden hand have prevented it? And if so, what does that mean for all the times God does nothing to prevent tragedies?”

  “You’re asking an atheist to provide a satisfactory theological explanation of a God’s powers and actions. If I could do that, I probably wouldn’t be an atheist.”

  “Fine. But if someone is going to use what he thinks God should have done as an argument against his existence, as you have, don’t you think it makes sense to have an idea of how that person thinks things should work? Or is finding easy objections enough to satisfy your inquires without trying to provide the hard answers? Your approach provides no answers, no meaning, only excuses.”

  “Why are you pushing this?” Dan replied, his irritation starting to show. “I can’t answer what is fundamentally a nonsensical question. And I thought we’re trying to be on good terms again.”

  “Here’s the thing, and it’s relevant: maybe you’ve never tried because you worry you might not like the answer. I need you to be open to big possibilities, wherever they lead. In the end, I believe my work will yield insights about God and human destiny. Are you able to accept that God might exist? That is why I am asking you these questions.”

  “Only with irrefutable proof.”

  “That’s quite a presumption.”

  “About what?”

  “That God has to prove his existence to you according to your criteria. Isn’t it possible that there is sufficient indication for those open to him? Where’s the scientific proof that God has to provide you with scientific proof?”

  “We live in the world governed by science and reason. All I see from religion is irrationality and the harm it inflicts. Asking people to believe, and the ‘right beliefs’ at that, absent of proof, would be unfair to us and not worthy of a God,” Dan said with conviction.

  “Unless doing so would get in the way of something more important. Or if what you’re asking for isn’t as necessary as you think it is.”

  “Who’s being presumptuous now?” Dan replied.

  “How about this? Can you put aside emotion and your convictions, as repugnant as you find religion, and just pretend that you’re willing to accept the possibility that God might exist?”

  “I’ll pretend I don’t know better. But you need to be open to the idea that you may be fundamentally wrong.”

&
nbsp; “I’ll do what I can given my numerous limitations,” Stephen said with a bemused expression. “Before this is all over, I’m sure I’ll be humbled hugely many times.”

  “Now that is something worth sticking around to see,” Dan said with a restrained but friendly smile. “But enough of the abstract and hypothetical. What have you got to say? What insights has your work in biology given you about philosophical questions no one else in human history has been able to solve?”

  Stephen placed his elbows on the table, leaned forward, combed his fingers through his hair, then took a deep breath. “I’ll get to the point—and it does involve way, way more than biology.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at the room.

  “You can speak freely as long as you’re not too loud and you angle your face toward the wall. I don’t see anyone we need to be worried about,” Dan said, looking at his tablet on the table in front of him.

  “I’d feel more confident about that if you could tear your eyes from your tablet and actually seem like you were aware of your surroundings.”

  “Relax. I’ve got everything under control. Take a look.” Dan pushed his tablet over to Stephen. On the screen were eight sections of video displaying different camera views of the interior and exterior of Liam’s. “I linked into these before dinner. Since we’ve arrived, I’ve toyed around with the idea of hacking into cell phones of people sitting near us to get views from their cameras. Instead, I just ran profiles on them. Run of the mill people, like you and me. Satisfied?”

  “You know, you really are a scary guy.”

  “You need to keep that in mind from time to time,” Dan said with a slight grin.

  “It never leaves my mind,” Stephen said, smiling in return. Turning serious, he continued, “All right then. I hope you’re ready for this. Six months ago, I was working with Alex Robertson to decode the human genome. As I said before, this wasn’t a simple code in the sense of understanding the basic syntax of a rudimentary language or learning how DNA makes a person. Incorporated into our DNA is a highly encrypted, symbolic code, with purposeful intent, that if it wasn’t for extraordinarily unlikely chance events, should have never been broken, could never have been broken. If you believe only one thing I have or ever will tell you, you must believe this.”