by Saul Garnell
Freud looked in his jacket and conveniently pulled out a large cigar from his breast pocket. Lighting a match, he began puffing until a small plume of billowy smoke floated upwards. Satisfied, he continued looking at the cigar as though it had posed the question.
“I suppose it all has to do with our instincts.”
“The aggressive instinct, you mean,” Oskar quickly added.
“Well, yes,” Freud said, nodding. “That particular one is an intrinsic part of us, and constantly applies pressure against the better wishes of civilization, which prefers that everyone work for the benefit of others and distribute wealth fairly. Without such rules, what we call civilization would disintegrate. Of that I’m certain.”
“But we also have the passion to love each other. Doesn’t that act as a natural counterbalance?” Oskar said.
Freud shook his head and tapped ashes onto the grass. “No. Love, as you espouse from the pulpits, is really just a recent incarnation of morality. I don’t believe the church, or any society for that matter, has been successful in coercing man to lay down his passions. But civilization has been trying for a long time.”
Oskar huffed out loud. “So, you don’t see religion as the primal source of morality?”
Freud looked over at Oskar. So typical. Had they not been friends for over fifteen years, the question might have been interpreted quite negatively.
“I believe that morality is much older than any religion and has been with man since he separated himself from nature, eons ago. Today’s morals offered by the church may indeed be more sophisticated, meeting the needs of man. But morality as such has been around since the start of civilization and has followed us as we evolved.”
Oskar rose from his chair and began to pace in front of Freud. The answer bothered him and his deep, brooding eyes searched for a point of discourse to pursue on behalf of God.
“This troubles me greatly,” Oskar said, while looking again at the lilacs. “If you’re right, then man is doomed to suffer his aggressions, with or without the church. That can’t be true. I’m certain God’s love will eventually win.”
Freud looked around and smiled at all the beautiful greenery that surrounded him. “Well, in this particular setting, which seems to be an illusion of my mind, let me be more forthcoming. The church will fail. But that shouldn’t keep you from trying. You have done good work on behalf of your parish. And that’s high praise, coming from an atheist Jew like myself.”
Oskar nodded sadly. “I was hoping for a better answer.”
“You won’t find one,” Freud answered sharply, waving his cigar in circles. “At least not in the present. Maybe one day they will discover how to fully suppress or remove man’s passions. Perhaps a chemical will be found.”
“Or a child will be born, one lacking our animal instincts,” Oskar said.
“Well, there’s a funny thought,” Freud said, laughing in his chair. “Maybe we’ll simply produce that child like we produce cars on an assembly line, eh? Anything is possible with a little imagination, I suppose.”
Freud and Oskar laughed between themselves. The conversation had gotten to the point where speculation had led to fantasy of the absurd kind. But was it mere fantasy? Deep down, Freud had some doubts about the jokes he made. Maybe it was possible. Looking off into the distance, he considered all this until a low rumble interrupted his thoughts. The ambient light all around began to change. The sky began to darken as brief flickers of light signaled the telltale signs of an approaching storm.
Oskar looked up while turning slowly in place. “I think the morphine is starting to work.”
Freud said nothing and just puffed his cigar joyously.
Oskar shook his head. “Why not give up smoking? A final act of good will.”
“You must be kidding,” Freud sniggered. “Give up my greatest passion? No, I think I’ll enjoy this one until the very end. Quite literally, in this case.”
The sky grew darker. So much so the two men had trouble seeing each other in the twilight.
“I wonder what happens now,” Oskar said.
“Now life goes on,” Freud answered. The tip of his cigar glowed hazily in the growing darkness. “Into the future my friend. Life and its illusions continue into the unknowable future.”
The garden became still as the sky and all its stars dimmed out of view. All was silent. The illusion came to a halt, ending in nothingness.
Freud was dead.
Chapter 15—Atonement
Of course, life will be so purposeless that people will have to be biologically or psychologically engineered either to remove their need for the power process or to make them “sublimate” their drive for power into some harmless hobby. These engineered human beings may be happy in such a society, but they most certainly will not be free. They will have been reduced to the status of domestic animals.
—Theodore Kaczynski
Glancing outside, Shinzou peered about as their Fresco aircar’s primary turbine spun down. The trip was nearly effortless. Just a short hop from Narita to Omika near the coordinates he fed in. The on-board navigation did all the real work, easily finding an open grassy patch to set down and park. But the rented car was not programmed for stealth. It was hard to tell if they were noticed on their approach. Hopefully, it wouldn’t matter, Shinzou thought.
With all systems off, he inspected the thick patches of trees and bamboo that surrounded them. The area was fairly deserted, vacated long ago when small air transports opened up the entire country for habitation. Mountains were no longer an issue. Nowadays, people lived where they wanted. And homes were set widely apart in the most secluded of spots.
He checked the map again. Dr. Kamiyoshi’s small home was highlighted plain as day on the three-dimensional terrain. From where they parked, he saw it was just a short walk uphill, roughly one hundred and seven meters or thereabouts according to the nav.
Looking at the passenger seat, Shinzou realized Sumeet was still consumed by virtual space. He probably didn’t even know they had landed. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt though. Let him finish up his personal mail.
That also gave Shinzou time to think. He wondered if he’d overstepped himself. Sumeet was a potential risk. He might see or hear things, things that required careful explanation. And above all, Shinzou wasn’t sure if the time was right. But then again, recruitment into the Freedom Club was tricky. When exactly was the time going to be right?
“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,” Shinzou said, nudging Sumeet’s arm.
Yanking off his filter, Sumeet returned to reality somewhat bewildered and rubbed his eyes. “Uhm, no, it’s okay. I’m happy to join you. No sense putting it off now.”
“Are you sure? It may turn out to be nothing.”
“It’s fine. I still have some time to kill before the flight back this evening.”
Sumeet’s words sounded positive, but Shinzou detected his unease. It was understandable. What had started out as a free-spirited sojourn to and from ASPAU carried a high price tag – namely, a litany of angry messages that festered in Sumeet’s inbox. Each started off the same way. Harsh demands as to why he was offline and not more forthcoming about his activities. Hiral’s were the worst.
Luckily, the trip to Omika wouldn’t take very long. The plan was quite simple. Walk up to Kamiyoshi’s door unannounced, and request a short visit to talk about Kim and Nagel. Shinzou figured he could get the truth from him if there was any it could be had. Easy.
But as they both exited the car, an incoming call arrived from Gupta. Resting against the open door, Shinzou jumped into virtual space.
Gupta breathed a sigh of relief. “Shinzou, have you already met with Dr. Kamiyoshi?”
“No, we just arrived. We were about to walk up to his place.”
“Oh, good, good!,” Gupta exhaled. “Listen, I got a message from Thomas Nagel’s wife, Anastasia. She claims to have information that Thomas left on a personal timer.”
&nb
sp; “A timer?”
“Yes, you know. Those services that take care of things when you’re incapacitated for any reason. Normally, they’re used to shut down credit cards, secure accounts, and the like.”
“I see.”
“But Thomas included other information, things he wanted his wife to have in an emergency.”
“Really?” Shinzou said with growing interest.
“I can’t say what it means. It’s not much, a few names and files. I am trying to decrypt them but maybe the names are useful in some way?”
“Whose names?”
Gupta scratched his head. “No idea. I thought they might be passwords, but they’re too simple and don’t seem to unlock anything. Just three of them. Georgia, Alberta, but the third stands out. Po’pay. It’s a native American name from New Mexico. I looked it up. Belonged to some rebel who fought the Spaniards before this territory joined the old United States.” Gupta rubbed his bald head. “Sorry, Shinzou, that’s all I have.”
“That’s okay, Babu. Thanks for that. I’ll let you know if it proves useful.”
Gupta signed off and left Shinzou rubbing his chin until he realized Sumeet was waiting impatiently. Without further discussion, they walked up the stone path and within a minute stood before Kamiyoshi’s guest entrance. It was composed of a gate and call box that connected to the home’s front door via a small stony walkway.
The home itself was unassuming. One reflecting mixed architectural styles. A Japanese front garden and entrance, having an assortment of neatly manicured foliage of Maple, Oleander, and Hibiscus. It was juxtaposed against a steepled main structure. Like a Swiss chalet, it was covered with solar shingles and supported by white plaster, inlaid with dark criss-crossing beams. All very neat and tidy.
Shinzou glanced at Sumeet and smiled before hitting the call button. It wasn’t long before a hoarse voice erupted from the box in Japanese.
“Moshi-moshi.”
Shinzou responded in English, knowing already that Kamiyoshi was fluent.
“Sorry to disturb you at your home, Dr. Kamiyoshi. My name is Shinzou Friemann. I would like to speak to you about a project you had at the Langton Center in Santa Fe. About sixteen years ago? “
Kamiyoshi didn’t respond for several moments. “Sorry, who is this?”
Shinzou frowned and got closer to the speaker. “My name is Shinzou Friemann, I’m an ASPAU research consultant looking into some work you did at Santa Fe. Would you mind speaking with me a few moments about that?”
Again, a few moments of silence ensued before answering. “I think you’re mistaken. I don’t recall any such project.”
Shinzou looked at Sumeet, clearly annoyed. “Records at the Santa Fe Institute show that you worked with Thomas Nagel and Subhas Chandra Kim. You were part of that team. Does that help you remember?”
“Kim and Nagel?” Kamiyoshi said slowly. “Ah...yes, maybe I do remember. Very well, but I am quite busy. I would appreciate if we keep this short.”
The gate’s lock disengaged, allowing access to the front door where Kamiyoshi stood fuming. Dressed in a mix of traditional Asian and western attire, his scowling face displayed little good will for them to build on.
“What’s this all about,” Kamiyoshi demanded. “And why didn’t you make an appointment?”
“I do apologize for this sudden call,” Shinzou said, crunching over pebbles. “But we identified your team at the Santa Fe Institute. Do you remember Dr. Kim and Nagel?”
Kamiyoshi shook his head, partly confused. “Not really, it was a long time ago. There were many projects back then.”
Kamiyoshi immediately turned his attention to Sumeet. “And you?”
Looking aside, Shinzou quickly realized his error and made a hasty introduction. “My assistant Sumeet. We flew in from ASPAU together. We just wanted to know if you could tell us the nature of your project. The records show you were brought in as a theological expert. Can you explain that in more detail?”
Kamiyoshi’s face flushed with anger. “I forgot most of it. As I recall, they wanted to know some things about educational practices. Anyway, why don’t you speak with Kim and Nagel? I’m sure they remember it better than me.”
“They’re dead,” Shinzou stated flatly. “Killed on the spaceplane that crashed a few days ago. I’m sure you saw it on the news. It’s the reason I’m here, actually. Some think their deaths have something to do with the work you did years ago.”
Kamiyoshi’s harsh scowl now softened. Shinzou looked on with interest. He noted the old man’s clear uncertainty. Good. There was something here after all.
“Did you know them very well?” Shinzou asked.
Kamiyoshi grimaced with pain. “Well, it was a long time ago. We haven’t been in contact for years.”
“I see,” Shinzou said nodding.
Kamiyoshi gestured with his hand. “Maybe you should come inside. Tell me what this is all about.”
Backing away from the door, Kamiyoshi led them to a well-sized foyer, set up to receive guests and business associates. A comfortable seating area and coffee table was surrounded by an assortment of books, magazines, and collectibles.
Taking a small couch, they looked at Kamiyoshi, who appeared stiff and uneasy on an embroidered wooden chair. Smiling politely, Shinzou keenly detected Kamiyoshi’s clear discomfort. Sixteen years was a long time. Details of work could have faded, but looking around it didn’t seem likely that he experienced classified projects on a regular basis. The experience should have been quite memorable.
“Tell me again who you are and why you’ve come,” Kamiyoshi said, still confused.
Shinzou nodded politely. “Let me start from the beginning. I’m an ASPAU research consultant investigating leads pertaining to the destruction of the Martin Luther King Junior spaceplane, which as you know crashed into the New Mexican desert last week. Dr. Thomas Nagel and Dr. Subhas Chandra Kim were on that flight and there is reason to suspect their presence was not coincidental.”
Shinzou paused for a moment to detect any reaction he might have. Kamiyoshi didn’t react differently, but still showed displeasure.
He continued, “Further investigation also revealed that Nagel and Kim shared a classified project with you about sixteen years ago. That’s the connection that brought us to your doorstep. I was hoping that you could shed some light on the nature of that project.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Kamiyoshi said quietly. “It was classified, as you said. But I wasn’t leading. I never knew what the project was really about. And all I did was provide instructional material on secular teaching practices for young children.”
“Secular?” Shinzou said awkwardly. “I was under the assumption you were a theological expert.”
“I received my Ph.D. in secular education before I became a priest.”
“Oh, I see,” Shinzou carefully noted. “So, may I then ask if you knew Nagel and Kim were coming to Japan?”
Kamiyoshi braced before answering. “No.”
“No contact at all?”
“No, nothing from them since the project ended all those years ago.”
Shinzou didn’t like the way Kamiyoshi answered the question. He glanced over the Sumeet and grinned. Sumeet didn’t know what to make of it.
Shinzou said. “So, Dr. Kamiyoshi, I would be mistaken then if I assumed your role in the project was to educate Sentient Beings in religious practices.”
That question seemed to have an impact. But Kamiyoshi sat absolutely still. As though he were forcing himself to be a stone against his will.
“You would be quite...mistaken.”
Shinzou noted Kamiyoshi’s heightening tension.
“Well, then,” Shinzou said with finality. “I suppose there isn’t any reason to bother you more. Apologies once again for intruding. However, the destruction of the spaceplane is a delicate matter and I hope you understand everyone’s need to move quickly.”
Kamiyoshi exhaled. “It’s quite all right.”
Putting both hands on the couch, Shinzou began to rise before dropping back down. He shook his fist, attempting to recall something of import.
“Sorry, Dr. Kamiyoshi. One last thing!”
“Yes?”
“There are some names that you might know. Perhaps you can tell me who they are?”
“Names?”
Shinzou recalled Gupta’s call only a short while back. Unsure why, one name jumped out in his head, and he felt compelled to ask.
“Yes, do you know who Po’pay is?” Shinzou asked casually.
Dr. Kamiyoshi’s thin smile faded away and was replaced by an intense frown. Pallid skin dripped with sweat as the question’s traumatic affect sunk in like a silent bolt of lightning. Shinzou patiently waited for an answer, as several moments passed in uncomfortable silence.
“That...name may be familiar. Let me check my records,” Kamiyoshi finally stammered.
Getting up a bit wobbly from his chair, Kamiyoshi stepped away from the foyer and disappeared momentarily. Sumeet looked over at Shinzou, wondering why Kamiyoshi was acting so strange. He began to ask a question but was immediately silenced by Shinzou, who put a finger to his lips. Loose conversation would have to wait.
Before long footsteps were heard. But to their shock, Dr. Kamiyoshi came around the corner aiming a large hand gun at them.
“Don’t move!” Kamiyoshi yelled.
Slender hands trembled while holding the gun’s grip and extended magazine. A large bulbous scope was mounted on top, and its auto-lock indicator pulsed red. Clearly, the weapon was far beyond anything used for defense. And unfamiliar to the frail old man holding it.
Shinzou raised both hands. “There’s no reason to...”
“Quiet,” Kamiyoshi blurted out. “Who are you? And...and why are you here?”
Shinzou glanced over to Sumeet, then looked back confused. “Uhm, I said my name earlier. I’m Shinzou. Everything I’ve told you is true. I’m a research consultant with the...”
