1
Born Again – Harold Seymour
Born Again
a novel
by
Harold Seymour
Chapter 1
It wasn’t looking good. Not in the least. The pieces didn’t fit. Or something was missing. So here he sat, alone, late in the evening. He stared at the data, but was no longer seeing it. He felt disconnected.
Jud Astin, cultural anthropologist, sat in his office at what was regarded as one of the absolute gems of the post-doc world. He was heading up a research division, and right out of school. A young 48, he had already achieved what many in his field only dreamed of. He had been granted a two-year, fully funded, research fellowship in the desert holy land. Roswell, New Mexico. And now, 18 months into it, he didn’t have crap to show for it. Even worse, what he had found didn’t make sense.
It wasn’t so much that he’d found nothing. In fact, he found quite a lot. Unfortunately, what he found seemed to show that the spiritual beliefs of better than half of the world’s population might be wrong. Good luck getting that published!
He stepped out of his office into the desert night air. It smelled like rain in the distance. It was late. Nobody else was there. He decided it would be best to go home.
Even though it was late, there were still a lot of lights on in the city. Beyond the city he could make out the huge edifice of the Bottomless Dam, which had been built over two hundred years ago around the Bottomless Lake National Park. It provided the water and power needed to supply Roswell, the largest city in the US.
He got to his car, sat down, and closed the door with a satisfying thud. The thuds of course had been re-engineered into cars, much like many of the other sounds, in order to keep the driver alert. Jud set his default car sound to that of a roadster, but tonight he changed it to a quiet sedan.
Where would you like to go? came the soothing female voice.
“Home,” he replied.
Would you care to drive, or would you like me to do it for you?
“You drive, I’m tired.” The car didn’t process the second comment.
Off the car went, heading for the city. Jud turned on the radio, looking for music. But it was late, and Sunday, so he mostly found preachers sermonizing from the Book of Sagan. He turned the radio off. He would be home in a few minutes anyway, no traffic this time of night.
As the car whisked him along, his mind wandered. He began to think back to when things were a bit easier, when he was in graduate school. He thought it was difficult back then, but compared to what he’d come up against here, it was a piece of cake.
His doctoral research concerned the rise and fall of the Kasparov Syndrome, named after the great chess master of the first century. Garry Kasparov had the misfortune of being the first highly visible true genius to be out-thought by a computer.
This didn’t happen in the computer’s first try. But as all knew would happen, eventually a computer was built which Kasparov could not defeat at chess. This was the start of a rather disquieting time for the human race.
Many decades after this occurred, around 80 A.L., a handful of unusual psychiatric cases emerged. All of the victims suffered the same delusion: that they could out-think the machines.
At first, this was a minor curiosity. There were a few psychological journal articles, case studies, and so on. But it was soon discovered that these people could not be wrestled from their delusion. It was their belief system. And once a person has a firm set of beliefs, no minor inconveniences like facts or reality are going to faze them.
And it got worse. Over the next century millions contracted the disorder. Soon there were entire psychiatric hospitals devoted to Kasparov Syndrome. The normal treatment approaches to psychiatric illness proved futile. No one knew what to do, except warehouse the Kasparov patients.
But something else happened. The victims of Kasparov Syndrome stopped having sex. They believed that it diminished their ability to think. So, no sex, no children. The genes stopped being passed along, and within another hundred or so years, Kasparov Syndrome had virtually disappeared in the US.
Jud’s doctoral research concerned the strangely charismatic charm that was a feature of Kasparov Syndrome. So charming and perceptive were these people that they were able to attain critical positions in business, industry, education, and politics, all well before the full extent of the syndrome was known. Certainly this created some havoc, such as when one Senator attempted to replace the entire United States air-traffic control system with maps and pushpins.
But soon after that tests were developed that could screen for the syndrome, and fewer and fewer Kasparov victims found their way into dangerous situations. Nevertheless, everyone who worked with them found them to be utterly delightful. It almost seemed as though they could read people’s thoughts.
Of course, such perceptual abilities are common among the delusional and paranoid. And through the years many a book was written on the unique ability of Kasparov victims to read the unspoken thoughts and fears of those around them, and to even reassure them. In fact, in one famous case, the psychiatrist treating a Kasparov Syndrome victim discovered that his own recurrent problem with compulsive humming vanished. He credited the understanding and acceptance he received from his patient for allowing him to give up this harmless yet annoying habit.
Kasparov Syndrome patients were well known for this unflinching acceptance of others and their faults. Somehow, even under the worst circumstances, they could calm those around them. Had it not been for their disorder, they would have made great dental hygienists.
So, Jud researched and published the definitive work on Kasparov Syndrome. It was he who confirmed the apparent link between Kasparov Syndrome and pre-natal exposure to habanero chilies. Sure the relationship was correlational, but it was a strong correlation and most of the cases occurred in the southwestern US. It seemed there was a genetic predisposition that was activated by the exceptionally potent capsaicin.
He had received some good press from this, and more than a little professional recognition. Some criticized his research, as it had been partly funded by the National Jalapeno Foundation, but when push came to shove, you really couldn’t argue with the data.
He received his Ph.D. from New Mexico University in 464 A.L. He wasn’t sure where he would end up, but fate took care of that. He was contacted by the Head of Research for the Lander’s Institute of Guidance and Higher Theology (LIGHT). LIGHT had for many years been the major endowment organization in the world. LIGHT’s Head of Research told Jud how impressed they were by his doctoral work, and that they had selected him for an offer to head up a two year continuing research project in Roswell. Jud was stunned. It was well known that anyone who completed a two-year fellowship with LIGHT could then write his or her own ticket at the best universities in the world. He naturally accepted.
It all looked so rosy then. But it sure didn’t look so rosy now. How would he present his negative findings about Roswell? He knew his results, being contrary to accepted reality, would fall on unreceptive ears, much like telling a child there is no E.T. Worse, his career would be ruined.
As the car pulled into his apartment garage, Jud settled back into current reality. He walked up the steps to his apartment. The retina scan routinely and unobtrusively identified him five steps from the door, which opened upon his arrival. Lights went on, and cool air began to silently drift into the rooms.
He made a direct line to his bedroom, removed his clothes, and collapsed on top of his bed. He said, “goodnight,” and the lights went off. And he fell asleep easily, for the first time in several nights.
Chapter 2
Perhaps some of you are a bit confused. It happens. While Jud is sleeping, maybe it would be useful to outline why he would be so concerned about what he has been uncovering.
Let’s begin with a brief history, although it may be old news for some of you. Bear with me, the rest of this will go more smoothly if everyone is on the same page.
Now, as you know, 465 years ago aliens from space landed, rather messily, in Roswell, New Mexico. This was of course early July, and was at a time when few people knew of such things.
Naturally, as with any major change in the zeitgeist, the government immediately took steps to put things under wraps. People were told it wasn’t an alien demolition derby, it was just a fallen weather balloon! Of course, those who happened to see the “fallen weather balloon” were threatened by the military to within an inch of their lives…but I digress.
Unfortunately for those who wanted this to be kept quiet, there seemed to be more and more sightings. Not just sightings by backwoods nimrods, but also by astronauts, pilots, police officers, and even self-help gurus. Contemporary to this was an explosion of media information that the government found increasingly difficult to manage.
From within this flood of information came more reports, more data, claims of abduction, and to no one’s surprise, credible evidence of the propensity of the government to lie to its own people. So, we had a nice table set.
About 55 years after the landing (A.L.), a new form of voter was starting to emerge in the United States. These voters didn’t get their information from the standard media outlets, such as video or print. Instead, they got their information directly, on-line, real-time, uncensored, and absent the usual obsession with fact-checking.
These new voters wanted answers! They flooded elected leaders with demands for the truth. Of course, they were initially informed that the truth had already been told, and that there were no secrets. But these people didn’t believe what they were told. They believed what they saw. And everyday more and more of them saw it coming into their home via streaming electrons.
Long story short, there was a change. Suddenly the dam broke. Government leaders, often those who aspired to higher office, took it upon themselves to concede that there had been a cover-up. Admit that they too had been thwarted in their attempts to locate the truth. And they promised the people who elected them that there would be no more secrets!
It became clear. We were not alone in the universe, and we most certainly held a special place in the grand design. Everybody said so. In a short number of years, few could or would refute it.
New visionaries arose from the shadows. They offered their ideas on what it all meant. What was our place? Of course, no one person could really know the full truth. So over a hundred years or so we saw a convergence of thought into what became the Lander religion, to which so many now belong. As you know there are many different forms of the Lander belief, from orthodox to the more casual. But acceptance of the core beliefs could not have been more fully embraced, regardless of denomination.
Now Jud is not your deeply religious Lander. Like most of us he grew up with the usual religious stories, television shows, church meetings, and even the ritual childhood visits to “E.T.” each June or July at the local shopping mall. As an adult, it was something he accepted, never giving it a great deal of thought or question. In fact, that was a big part of the reason he was surprised at receiving the LIGHT fellowship to work in Roswell. His job there is to further uncover and expand upon our knowledge of our theological history. Perhaps finding clues as to when the great beings would return to us. A big responsibility for a non-practicing Lander who was last in church over a year ago when he had to stop and ask for directions.
Now we get to the crux of Jud’s problem. In his work over the past year and a half, he has found no new information on the Roswell landing. He has uncovered no new insights. In fact, he has found nothing. Nada. Zip. As the saying goes, he has found no there there. And when he examined the data that did exist, he found it could be explained in ways that did not jibe with conventional wisdom or beliefs.
So, his dilemma is: should he keep his mouth shut or speak up? Not an easy one when you really think about it. If he keeps his findings to himself, perhaps publishing the odd fluff piece, he’s safe, career-wise. However, he’s abandoning his scientific principles. Not only that, but it has occurred to him that there have been over twenty prior LIGHT fellows at Roswell. Surely they must know too. And if they do, and they’ve said nothing, what does that mean? Have they simply chosen career over science? Or have they been threatened, much like the rancher at Roswell 465 years ago?
And what if he speaks up? Gets the information out? The repercussions both personally and socially were incomprehensible. On more than one occasion, dwelling on the prospect served as a great physic for Jud.
This is why Jud has been having a bit of trouble sleeping. And eating. And even tending to a normal health routine. The man is seriously stressed.
To make matters even more complicated, he has been finding it ever more difficult to keep what he has found, or not found, to himself. The LIGHT people keep asking for updates. They want splashy stuff for their brochures.
Then there are the obligatory tours given to foreign dignitaries, scientists and elementary school students. Actually, it’s the students who are the worst. The dignitaries are not scientists, so Jud can tell them pretty much anything and get away with it. The dignitaries usually rushed through the tour, anxious as they typically were to get to the rides and exhibits at UFO World, nearby in Roswell.
It’s the students who ask questions. How many aliens does it take to pilot an inter-stellar cruiser? Since space aliens read our minds and they know we’re waiting for them to come back, why haven’t they come back yet? How do aliens go to the bathroom? And so on. Lately, Jud had been finding any excuse to have one of the other researchers tour with the kids.
In sum, Jud’s research has raised in his mind the unsettling possibility that maybe there never was an alien landing in Roswell.
At times he’s considered that perhaps a colossal joke was being played on him, but he hasn’t found any hidden cameras. He has also considered, really considered, that he might be coming unstuck from reality. This concern he has found reinforced in his dereliction of his personal health responsibilities.
Quite a situation, really. To either be crazy, or to be sitting on information that could, should it be revealed, shatter the beliefs of millions upon millions of good people. Thank goodness he’s getting some sleep tonight.
And so, there you have it. The Cliff Notes on how Jud came to be in the mess he is in. Now that everybody is up to speed, let’s continue.
Chapter 3
Jud’s default wake up alarm was set for 6:45 am. It started quiet, and gradually grew louder until it was turned off. It had reached considerable decibels by 7:02, when Jud was finally awakened.
“I’m up,” he bellowed over the traffic report. The alarm turned off.
Jud headed into the bathroom. After the preliminaries, he started his shower. He tried not to think about his situation, deciding if he could just block it out of his mind a bit more, he would be able to relax. But it was like trying to tell yourself not to think about pink elephants. The thoughts and images began.
As he entered his shower he began to feel a welling dread in the pit of his stomach. He had started feeling this every morning. He had only experienced this once prior to his starting the fellowship. This was when he was defending his doctoral dissertation. On his committee was old Dr. Dunsmiller. Dr. D had started his questioning by asking if, in fact, everybody wasn’t operating with a well-developed set of delusions? And, if so, were those with Kasparov Syndrome merely an inconvenience, not really ill? Fortunately, another committee member suggested that was a question better left to the Psychology Department, thereby getting Jud off the hook. Nevertheless, the stomach acid remained.
After his shower he dressed, avoiding his Moaning Joan, which was sitting in the charger on the dresser. He told himself he would get to it in the evening. It had now been at least a week since he had an orgasm, and this was definitely not healthy. He knew it, but just couldn’t bring himself to the task. He went to the kitchen to try to eat something for breakfast.
Actually, Jud’s Moaning Joan was a testament to product design. The basic model had been developed over two hundred years ago, and essentially hadn’t changed. An orb about the size of a volleyball, with an insertion hole, lubricated latex with suction, and small speakers that emitted the patented Joan Moan. A lot of people don’t realize how much research went into designing the optimum moan. The trick was to make it functional and efficient, but it also had to have the quality of not becoming boring over time.
This was of course nothing compared to what into the development of the Johnny Wand, for women. Women, unlike men who on average get a new Moaning Joan every 2.3 years, tend to find the Johnny Wand they want, and they stick with it. This required a product with much greater durability. Additionally, women demanded more bells and whistles. Not literally. We’re talking about speed and temperature controls, glass beads in the tip, size adjusters, and so on. Even a choice of colors.
The health care industry was always active trying to capture the women’s market. The Johnny Wands are, of course, much more expensive than are the Moaning Joans. So, the basic approach with men is volume. Keep the cost low and don’t worry about product longevity, he’s gonna turn it over in a couple of years anyway. For women, the goal is high quality, cache, and the ability to add product upgrades when they become available.
As we all know from our junior high health classes, good physical and mental health requires a daily orgasm. This, like drinking 8 glasses of water each day, has been drummed into us. We all accept this, but few of us know how this all came about.
Back in about 40 to 50 A.L., there was a Dr. Seymour Love. He was some sort of relationship expert, and was immensely popular. He proposed that all men really wanted in a relationship was to have an orgasm via oral sex. He claimed that if men received this, they would turn into rational, compassionate, and productive beings. Today we all know this to be true, but at that time this was regarded as so much drivel.
But Dr. Love was popular. So, some in the medical and psychological community began to take pot-shots at him. They pointed out that his claims had never been validated by research. And they set out to test his theory and prove him wrong, if only to shut him up for a while.
The first studies were done in Sweden, naturally. The researchers designed a study to test Love’s theory. They studied 400 young men. They chose young men because of concern over the physical aspects required by the study.
The men were divided into two groups. The first group was the orgasm group. My recollection on the details is a bit sketchy, but suffice it to say, they got their daily orgasm. If you’re curious, look it up. The other group spent 1 hour each day playing handball.
After two months, the groups were compared. The initial physical results showed no superficial differences. Both groups had increased forearm strength and callused hands. However, when they underwent more detailed testing, differences clearly emerged.
The handball playing group was generally more irritable, competitive and interpersonally awkward. The orgasm group was calm, friendly, and socially appropriate. Further research revealed that the orgasm group also had lower cholesterol, lower blood pressure, and much higher serotonin levels.
More studies followed, finding much the same thing. Some even found higher intelligence quotients for the orgasm recipients, although some researchers argued this was merely an artifact of being more relaxed.
Research also found benefits for women. Women who enjoyed a daily orgasm were more confident, less emotional, and, surprisingly, they became on average an inch taller. There were also cognitive benefits for women, such as improved parallel parking skills.
This is where WeCare Industries entered the picture. Formerly WeCare Pharmaceutica, then the world’s largest producer of drugs, its founder saw the trend and immediately purchased the rights to the new Moaning Joan and Johnny Wand technologies. As you know, today over 80% of Joans and Johnnys are manufactured by WeCare Industries (Ask anybody…WeCare). So successful have these products been, that they got completely out of the drug business. Of course, this would have happened anyway since the regular provision of orgasms, along with the 8 glasses of water each day, virtually eliminated all health problems in the industrialized world.
So, Jud has not been tending to business, and this is wearing on his physical and emotional health.
He gagged down a piece of toast and some tea. He decided to check his messages, which he hadn’t done for some days. He went to his office and said, “messages.” Immediately the large screen to the right of his desk came to life.
Message #1: “Hi dear, it’s mom. Just thought I would try to catch you. I’ll try back later.”
Message #2: “Hey Dr. Astin, Norm here. It’s Friday…about 5:30 in the afternoon…ah…if you can get back with me. I wanted to touch bases with you before you go back into the office. Okay? Talk to you later.”
“Sorry Norm, I missed you. Didn’t check my messages until Monday morning. I’ll see you at the office,” Jud stated.
Would you like me to send this message now?, asked the screen.
“Yeah.”
Message #3: “Dr. Astin? This is Dr. Peter Saint. We met last fall at the Alien Autopsy Symposium in Chicago. I’m not certain if you remember me. I’m trying to reach you regarding your research at Roswell. I’ve come across some information that I’m afraid I must share with you. This is too serious to discuss in any way other than in person. I’m only a few hours drive away, near Sante Fe. Please contact me as soon as possible.”
“What?” Jud said with some confusion.
Would you like me to send this message now?
“What? No, don’t send. Keep a copy of the incoming message.” I know this guy, Jud thought, I remember him. An Artificial Intelligence developer. “What does an AI guy want with me?”
Would you like to continue reviewing your messages?
“Uh, no. End messages.” The screen closed down.
Jud was partially right. Dr. Peter T. Saint was an “AI guy,” but he is a bit more than that. He is one of the top AI researchers in the world. He is one of only a dozen or so individuals who have carte blanche into almost any computer system operation anywhere. He and his colleagues are responsible for many of the supremely complex software systems which allow machines and computers to so effortlessly interface with us.
In fact, it was Peter Saint who developed the software for none other than the intelligent phone. Before this was developed, and your phone routinely recognized when you were busy, it was actually possible for complete strangers to call you and ask you for money. Not too many people remember those days. Now, the telephone sees that you are eating, and when someone calls to try to sell you something, the phone blocks the ringing and informs the caller that it is rude to bother people by making unsolicited calls during dinner. Most of you probably don’t even know that your phone does that, because the creation of this has all but eliminated telemarketing. So good was the programming, phones routinely learned that their owners didn’t want these calls at any time, and so they were blocked even if the call recipient was staring blankly into space.
Rumor had it that Peter Saint had been locked away in his remote retreat working on the holy grail of artificial intelligence software: a grammar correction program for word processing software that actually works. Many have tried, none have succeeded.
Jud pondered over this new wrinkle. His head hurt, and the day was just getting started. He tried to put things together. He had been at the Alien Autopsy Symposium last October, participating in a panel discussion about the authenticity of the film. It was the same stuff every year. People had been arguing about it for centuries. Was it real? Did someone fake it? Does it matter anymore because it had become a religious icon? And so on. Jud was on the panel really as a courtesy for the people at LIGHT. He didn’t recall making much of a contribution; he mostly tried to stay neutral.
It was after the panel discussion that Dr. Saint introduced himself. He told Jud that he was impressed with his objectivity and clear thinking on the subject. Then a couple of pleasantries were exchanged…that was it. That was the whole interaction.
Jud again wondered out loud, “What does he want with me?”
He didn’t ponder it long because his phone rang. He said, “answer phone,” and the screen again came to life with the face of Norm, from down at the office. Norm was Jud’s primary research assistant, a graduate student using the setting for his research. Norm was a nice enough kid, all of 35. He still had a lot of the anxiety attached to his youth. He was bright, though. Jud could never, however, get Norm to refer to him as anything other than Dr. Astin. So, after a time, Jud just let it go.
“Good morning, Dr. Astin. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s okay, Norm. What’s up?”
“Well, I tried to reach you on Friday. I didn’t know if it was okay to bother you on the weekend, but when I didn’t hear from you, I thought I better call before you got here.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“Well, a message came in after you left on Friday that said the Research Group from LIGHT was going to be coming in on Monday morning to spend the day with us. I know how you don’t like this kind of surprise.”
Damn. “Just a minute, Norm, I’ve got another call holding...just hang on for a couple of seconds and I’ll get right back to you.” Jud hit the mute button. “Shit.”
Jud thought quickly. He returned to Norm. “Norm, didn’t I tell you last week I was going today to meet with Dr. Peter Saint, up in Sante Fe? I’m just about to leave; he’s expecting me. I can’t re-schedule this. Do your best with the people from LIGHT. Please let them know I would have been happy to meet with them were it not for the conflict.”
“Okay, but…um, I think they really wanted to talk to you.”
“Can’t be helped. You might want to suggest to them that it would be a real help if they didn’t schedule visits with me on such short notice, especially calling Friday evening for a Monday morning time.”
“Uh, I’m not really comfortable telling them that.”
“Okay. Just tell them I’m gone. You might want to call them immediately to catch them before they go, and let them know I’ll give a call.”
“What if they want to re-schedule.”
“Tell them my schedule is pretty open in about two weeks.
“Okay, but I don’t think they’re going to be too happy.”
“I’ll deal with that, you just plead ignorance.”
“I can do that.”
“Okay, thanks for the call, Norm. I’ll most likely see you tomorrow.” And Jud clicked off the phone.
Jud took a deep cleansing breath. What in the world, he thought, have I gotten myself into? All I wanted was a nice career. Do a little teaching, a little research, maybe travel some. No big deal. Now all this.
He figured the first order of business was to call Saint, and ask if today would be convenient for a visit. “Phone,” the screen came to life, “locate and call Dr. Peter Saint in or around Sante Fe, New Mexico.”
Within moments a connection was made. A blank screen appeared, and a soft, pleasant female voice spoke, Hello, you have reached the phone of Dr. Peter Saint. Whom shall I say is calling?
“Dr. Jud Astin.”
One moment, please, while I check to see if Dr. Saint is available.
The blank screen continued for a few moments, then there he was.
“Dr. Astin! Thank you so much for returning my message to you. I trust you are well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“No doubt you are wondering why I contacted you. Well, sorry, I can’t tell you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not unless it’s in person.”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling, Dr. Saint, to see about meeting with you.”
“Good, good, good! I knew it when I saw you at the symposium. You are open and inquisitive. The marks of a true scientist!”
“Well, thank you. I was wondering if today would be good to meet. I know it’s short notice, but I had this rare free day today and…”
“Wonderful! The sooner the better. I know this must all sound foolishly mysterious, but trust me. You’ll be glad you made the trip.”
“Okay, well, I can leave in a few minutes and can be there probably before noon.”
“Good. We’ll have lunch, and I’ll let you in on some of the secrets of the world. Ha ha!”
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” and Jud clicked off the phone. Secrets of the world? Jud realized he had a rather major secret of his own. What on earth is Saint up to, anyway?
Jud packed up his brief case, choosing again to go right past poor old Joan. He told the apartment he was leaving, and headed to his car. No office today, at least. His stomach seemed grateful.
Chapter 4
Jud informed the car where they would be going, and he also decided to drive. The car would give him directions as they got close to Saint’s home.
In the meantime, Jud was unproductively replaying the phone call in his mind. He considered that he should have insisted on knowing what Saint thought was so important before driving all the way up there. But, he reminded himself, he would then be stuck if Saint refused. He’d end up with the LIGHT people, which was something he definitely didn’t want.
So, he drove. He tried to distract himself by listening to the radio. At one point he found himself drifting off the road, and the car reflexively recognized this and asserted corrections.
Jud decided to let the car drive for a while, so he could do a bit of research. He started the in-car computer, and began to do some checking on Dr. Peter Saint.
Peter Saint was born in 335, making him about 110 years old. Most men his age would be winding down toward retirement, but Saint apparently continued to be active. A graduate of UHI (University for the Highly Intelligent), he specialized in research work examining the development of computer intelligence that mirrored human thought and decision making. Specifically, he focused on the elusive “personality” issue, which had for so long prevented AI from moving into a realm of truly human thought. In part, the difficulty lay in the need for more human reactions, while restricting some of the more problematic human responses, such as impulsivity.
In effect, they could make computers more human-like in their thought, but they became occasionally irrational. When the irrationality was eliminated, the computers lost the more human quality that had been sought after.
Much of his work through his adult life had been classified. Although known to be responsible for a number of everyday product enhancements, the vast body of his work was known to but a few.
The computer went on to describe Saint’s personal life. He had been married, but his wife is deceased. He is an avid fisherman, and even worked on some old-fashioned fishing vessels as a young man, during his summer breaks from his college work.
All in all, Jud found relatively little information. What was definitely absent was any mention of Saint working in areas at all related to theology, Roswell, or even anthropology. Why Saint had attended the Autopsy Symposium was a mystery. Maybe it was just a hobby, Jud thought.
Jud’s thoughts returned for a moment to the issue of Roswell. How could it be that he had been unable to find evidence of the landing? Clearly it had to have been there at one time. But who would conceal it? And, most importantly, why would anyone do this?
He considered that maybe there never was any evidence to begin with, but this flew in the face of over three hundred years of documented research. Sure, some of the conclusions were essentially faith-based, but there certainly had to be some hard data somewhere.
So, he arrived at Roswell 18 months ago and started to work. But, he found no good evidence in the museum artifacts. Sure, the artifacts were there, but there was nothing in the materials that couldn’t have been made by man. Some researchers conceded that, yes, man does make these materials now, but assert that man didn’t make them 450 years ago. But how do they know that?
For example, the thin layered metal compounds which utilized bismuth for its apparent anti-magnetic capabilities. Prior researchers stated that this material was part of the hull of the alien spacecraft. We use it all the time in our aircraft now. Maybe they had it back then. Maybe they even had upsidaisium, the rare substance that exhibits anti-gravity properties. Just saying these things didn’t exist is not the same as knowing they didn’t exist.
Then there were the computer data banks. They might as well have been empty for the data that was in them. If Jud had conducted research like that in graduate school, he would never have been given a degree. The information was slanted, biased, unsupported, and generally useless.
An entire world philosophy and religion had been developed based on the information that Jud was now seeing first hand. But upon close analysis, there really just wasn’t much there. So, Jud concluded, there must be something else out there that he’s not finding out about. Either he is too dumb to figure it out, or, once again, maybe it’s being kept from him. In either case, it hardly left him feeling secure.
At that moment he was entering into the beautiful Sangre de Cristo Mountains, just east of Sante Fe. In a short time he would be at Saint’s home. He rather doubted Saint had any information relevant to Jud’s dilemma. In fact, as he thought about it, he hoped that Saint would not provide further complications. He hadn’t really thought about that when he hastily decided to use a meeting with Saint as a diversion.
Regardless, he was going to have lunch with someone who was regarded by many as a true modern genius. At least he would have that to tell his children, if he ever had any.
His car pulled off the main road onto a somewhat concealed drive that wound through the trees. Within a mile or so, he came to a modest yet stylish mountain retreat. His car pulled into the drive and stopped.
For some reason, Jud felt compelled to look 360 degrees around before he got out of the car. As he walked to the door of the house, it swung open and there stood Dr. Peter Saint.
“Hello and welcome,” he rather loudly announced. “Please come in. We have much to talk about.”
Chapter 5
Jud entered the home, with Saint closing the door behind him. Two things struck Jud immediately. First, the home was much more impressive from the inside than it appeared from the outside. As he entered through the doorway into a living room, he saw the far wall was graced with cathedral windows. The windows reached a good 15 feet high, and offered a remarkable view of the mountains and trees.
The second thing he noticed was the smell of garlic roasting. Somebody was cooking. Probably their lunch, as it was now close to noon.
“Please take a seat, Dr. Astin,” smiled Saint.
“Thank you,” Jud replied as he eased into a leather chair.
Saint just looked at Jud for a moment. Saint had a pleasant look about him. His beard and hair were both gray, but his eyes looked considerably younger. There was a bemused intensity to his gaze. Jud broke the brief silence.
“Well, I’m here. Perhaps you could give me some idea about what you couldn’t discuss over the phone?”
Saint smiled. “Right to the point, eh? Good! No time to play around with this. By the way, call me Peter.”
“Fine, Peter. Call me Jud. Peter this whole meeting is a bit odd. Not just the secrecy, but I’m puzzled as to why someone of your stature would need to meet with me. Honestly, I haven’t a clue why we’re here.”
“Let’s start with a couple of basics, Jud. First, we’re both trained in the sciences, yes? So, we share a common interest in the truth, regardless of where that might take us.”
“Well, Peter, in my limited experience, it seems to me that the truth can often be subjective. People believe what they want to believe, including some scientists,” Jud stated, trying to adopt a neutral stance at this early point.
“Precisely,” replied Saint. “Scientists want the truth, but what do they do when what they find doesn’t fit with what they believe is the truth?”
“Depends on the scientist,” replied Jud, still no further along in understanding why Saint wanted to meet with him.
“True again. So, I’ve asked you here to see if you might be willing to tell me what you are going to do with your dilemma?” Saint kept his eyes glued on Jud.
At this point Jud attempted to feign mild confusion, but he would have made a lousy poker player. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
“Please, Dr. Astin…Jud, the fact that you have discovered much missing at Roswell is well known to me. And, I’m afraid, it is known to a few others. The issue is not whether you have found what you’ve found, the issue is: what is next?”
Jud felt a bit numb at this point. He couldn’t organize his thoughts quickly enough. How did Saint know this? Why would he care? Does he work for LIGHT? Too many questions. He took a deep breath. He reminded himself that Saint had access to almost any computer system in the world. If information was out there, he could likely get it. But, Jud wondered, how did Saint get the information about his findings when he hadn’t even created an outline for a report?
Jud stalled. “I’m still not sure what this meeting is about.”
“Well,” Saint started, “let me summarize. 18 months ago you were given a fellowship to continue research at the Roswell facility. In your research, you have found inconsistencies; conclusions made by others based on dubious data, and serious reasons to doubt the entire Lander religion. How am I doing?”
Jud just listened.
“Now,” Saint continued, “you have a serious dilemma. The people from LIGHT are expecting some glowing, affirming report from you. In fact, this report is overdue, is it not?”
Jud nodded.
“So, they are putting pressure on you. But what to tell them? ‘Sorry guys, somebody appears to have messed up?’ Maybe you could plead insanity? Or, blame an underling? Always popular. But, no, you’re a nice guy and won’t screw somebody over, right?
So, your career is in a precarious place, you have potentially explosive research information which could alter the face of theology, and at this point you probably wish you’d become a fry cook instead of a cultural anthropologist.”
Jud was dumbfounded. “This is a bit scary. How do you know all of this?”
“Jud, all I’ve told you is what you already know. What I haven’t yet told you is far more problematic, no offense, than your present predicament.”
It occurred to Jud that he likely didn’t want to know what else Saint intended to tell him. He already had a return of his headache.
“Jud, I’m having to make a critical decision here. When I share with you what I’m about to tell you, it puts others including me at risk. I’ve decided to tell you because I was impressed by your ability to maintain a neutral, objective stance at the Alien Autopsy Symposium. Also, you’ve known what you’ve known about Roswell for a while. Yet, you haven’t impulsively exposed the information. More importantly, you haven’t fallen into the habit of your predecessors, who published fluff rehashes of questionable data. In short, I’m making a guess that you have integrity.”
Jud still felt lost about where all this was going. “What if I don’t want to pursue what you wish to tell me?” he asked.
“Too late for that, I’m afraid. There are dangerous forces that have thrust us together. We are going to have to deal with certain unpleasantries, whether we wish to or not.”
“I’m lost,” pled Jud.
“You won’t be by the time we’re done today. But first, we should eat something. You don’t look too well at the moment,” Saint remarked with genuine concern.
Saint rose and began walking to the kitchen, where the garlic smell was coming from. Jud followed.
“Maggie,” Saint called out, “is the fish ready?”
For the first time Jud realized he hadn’t even considered if they were alone. He followed Saint into the kitchen. There, at the stove, was a lovely dark-haired young woman. She turned, smiled and walked toward them.
“Dr. Astin, I’d like you to meet my assistant, Mary Margaret Delano,” said Saint.
“Maggie,” she clarified with a smile. “Has Peter been preaching to you?” she asked teasingly.
Jud replied, “I’m not yet sure what he’s saying to me.” He smiled, but froze up when it came to more conversation.
Maggie was an attractive young woman, perhaps early 40’s, who had olive skin, brown eyes, and black hair. She had adopted the habit of many young women by allowing her lower ear lobes to be slightly exposed. Jud tried not to stare, but they were lovely. In fact, her hair was naturally curly, so that when she walked or moved it bounced, revealing even a bit more of her ears.
Of course women, and to a lesser extent men, had been covering their ears for over three hundred years. It started with the recognition that the aliens didn’t have visible ears, and it was increasingly regarded as blasphemous for humans to openly display theirs.
This unfortunately led to the whole 30 year fiasco of attempts to destroy or censor all manner of art that was auditory. There were senate hearings, independent counsels appointed, even a Presidential Blue Ribbon Panel that attempted to demonstrate a link between music and violence. Naturally, there was no link, but that didn’t stop religious zealots from attempting to ban the availability of music to the general population.
After a couple of decades of this nonsense, things began to calm down. It really collapsed when Reverend I. B. Devout of the Lander Church of Sacred Silence was photographed in a hotel room with a pair of headphones and a boxed set of Tanya Tucker golden oldies.
Even though things got somewhat back to normal, people were still cautious about what they were heard listening to, lest they cross that fine line between earotica and hard core phonography. But the habit of covering the ears remained, largely because ears had become the focus of sexuality during this period.
Maggie noticed that Jud had been glancing at her ears, and she blushed a bit, but she didn’t look away from him. Jud tried to regain his composure as he wondered whether she was more than just an assistant to Saint.
They sat down to eat. The food was delicious. Fresh trout, with garlic roasted potatoes and peas. Maggie was a good cook. The conversation stayed neutral. Jud was unsure what, if anything, Maggie knew about all this. Besides, Saint was busy regaling them with tails of when he used to work in commercial fishing. He also, as it happened, had caught the very trout they were eating.
The meal, however, lasted only a short time. Saint was anxious to get back to the business of educating Jud. Jud would have been far happier to stay in the kitchen with Maggie, but Saint ushered him outside.
Jud mostly listened for the next few hours as Saint wove a tale of greed gone bad. He stated that really no one knew at this point if aliens did crash at Roswell 465 years ago. What was certain was that a culture developed over the following 80 to 100 years that benefited a select few.
The notion of aliens and space travel drove the military and aerospace industries into high gear. Saint suggested that the idea of aliens and space travel were kept alive for years by those whose businesses stood to make fortunes from research and development. Somewhere in all of this, however, something went wrong.
Saint implied that young engineers and computer scientists, who were anxious to make money even faster, pushed the envelope. They kept letting out more and more information. They flooded home computers with “data” which reportedly revealed the presence of aliens. Saint even suggested that the purges, which back then were called “abductions,” might have been actually done by humans.
These people did make a lot of money. But, ultimately, their efforts moved the beliefs beyond the level of a cultish following. Instead, people in droves began to leave what were then mainstream religions and enter into a life guided by a new set of beliefs. These people believed we were not alone in the universe. They “knew” aliens had been regularly visiting us. And, eventually, these beliefs developed into the Lander religion, with its reliance on the eventual return of the aliens to take the worthy home with them.
According to Saint, this was the beginning of many problems, small and large. Small problems like the audio pornography could be easily dismissed. However, Saint viewed the big problems as far more dangerous. He pointed out that not long after people began to adopt the Lander religion, Western civilization stopped advancing. Fewer and fewer people entered the realms of science, engineering and research. In effect, people said ‘why bother?’ If such an advanced civilization is coming back to get us, why waste money on new technologies. We’ll get them for free soon enough.
“In the last 400 years, about the only advances we’ve brought about include putting noise back in cars and airplanes, creating smart telephones, and the elimination of lawyers on television. Not bloody much, if you ask me!” Saint huffed.
And, Saint noted, people became increasingly unproductive in a literal sense. This was true. Fewer and fewer children were being born. In the past 350 years, he pointed out, the US had gone from over 300 million citizens to only about 40 million. People were no longer getting married (although some blamed this trend on the phenomenal response to the Moaning Joan and Johnny Wand health regimen).
What Saint didn’t mention were the other effects, such as the population shift to Roswell, and away from other parts of the country. So rapid and massive was the population growth that it became necessary some two centuries ago to build the Bottomless Dam, around and over the Bottomless Lakes National Park, just east of Roswell. It provided the city of over 2 million with water and hydro-electricity.
Essentially, Saint was making a case for a significant decline in the advancement of Western civilization. It was becoming clear to Jud that Saint viewed him as so important because he had the ability to perhaps support if not verify Saint’s contentions. This possibility, reasoned Jud, might also account for Saint’s almost missionary zeal.
At one point Jud had digested enough information that he was starting to again organize his thinking. He decided it was time to ask a question or two. He first wanted to know why, if all this was true, there would be attempts to prevent it from coming to light. Saint explained it like this:
“You drove here in a car, correct? Now, did you drive or did the car drive? No matter, you chose the destination. Now, imagine for a moment that the car now made these decisions. Not only do you no longer actually drive, but now you no longer get to even choose the destination. Does that appeal to you?” asked Saint.
“No, I wouldn’t like it,” replied Jud.
“No, you wouldn’t. But you know, we have that capability. We’ve had it for over a hundred years. But it has never shown up in anybody’s car. And I’m sure you know the reason. Even though study after study clearly shows accidents don’t occur when the automated driver is in charge, people still overwhelmingly choose to drive and make all decisions on their own.
So now, my young Dr. Astin, you sit upon information that could conceivably take directional control of the Western world away from those who now have it. They don’t want that, anymore than you or I want to relinquish control of our cars. It’s not a question of what is wise or fair, it’s simply a matter of keeping what one has. I suppose the money issue may be part of it, but mostly I think it’s the power. I really doubt it’s any more complex than that. The churches, the government, various organizations and businesses all thrive because this direction has been chosen. Change the direction and they fear, perhaps realistically, havoc. That’s why the people from LIGHT are so anxious to meet with you, they want to ‘explain’ some things.”
“But what about the fact that there are currently fringe or counter-culture groups in existence? Don’t they threaten these same people,” Jud countered.
“Not really. Did you like the fish?”
Perplexed, Jud nodded.
“Well,” continued Saint, “it’s like the fish. It tasted good. Why? Did you just get a piece of fish? No, of course not. The fish had various seasonings on it, like lemon and salt. If you eat the lemon alone, it’s not palatable. If you eat the fish alone, it’s too bland...nobody gets excited about it. But put them in the pan together, add a little heat, and now you’ve got something.
The Lander’s religion would have a hard time showing much complexity or depth if there were no contrasting or blending beliefs. The Landers need these other people in order to raise anxiety, push agendas, etc. Otherwise, it’s just so much steamed whitefish.
Besides, these fringe people are mostly ding-bats. You, on the other hand, are anything but. You’re a scientist, and you have actual data. That makes you a big problem,” he finished while pointing his right index finger at Jud, for emphasis.
Jud had a second question, “How did you develop this theory? No disrespect intended to you, but you’re not a theologian.”
“To be fair,” Saint said, “it’s not my theory. It comes from a man who has skills and intuitions far beyond those of anyone I’ve ever met. You should and will meet him.
His name is Christopher, Jessie Christopher. He currently lives in Guadalupe, Mexico. This is also where he was born, 54 years ago. He has… abilities.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jud.
“It’s hard to explain,” said Saint. “Let’s just say that after I experienced his clarity of thought and immense presence, it occurred to me that my work attempting to create a computer model of a true human being’s mind was doomed to fail. It was quite humbling, and yet he’s never treated me with anything other than the utmost consideration. Truly remarkable.”
“So, you’re saying this is all somebody else’s idea?” Jud said, as he started to wonder if this all wasn’t some atypical dementia he was witnessing.
“Not idea, so much,” Saint continued, “but rather he is somebody who connects things, if you know what I mean. You can bring him a bunch of seemingly disconnected pieces, and he can simply and clearly show you the links. That’s why you’ve got to meet him. Bring him what you’ve got. I don’t know what it all means, but I’m guessing he will.”
So, that was it. Peter Saint knew of Jud’s dilemma and took it upon himself to link Jud to some kind of “visionary” who could clear it all up for him. Wonderful, thought Jud, another guy with a theory.
However, Jud chose to be polite. It was late, he was tired, and it was time to go home. He told Saint that he appreciated the information, and would likely ride out his remaining six months. After that, he could perhaps talk to the man with the power that so impressed Saint.
This brought a sharp reaction from Saint. “No, no, no! You don’t get it. The time is now. Things are happening, dangerous things.”
“But why wouldn’t this wait six months?”
Saint appeared to be thinking for a moment. He looked Jud straight in the eye, “I work with a dozen of the top AI researchers in the world. For over 40 years, we have been in daily contact. We have all been looking at this problem, and have been worried. Now, suddenly, six days ago, one of my colleagues stops responding. Four days ago, another seems to disappear. Mind you, these are important people. They don’t just disappear. They don’t, do you understand?
I’m worried about my well-being. And, I’m also worried about yours. Jud, I’m not some nut-case. We need to act fast, and we need to be careful. If I were you, I wouldn’t eat any fish lunches prepared by the folks at LIGHT. The seasoning might be off.”
Jud thought about this, and admitted to himself that he was a bit nervous about what was going on. He decided to assure Saint he would do his best to contact this Jessie Christopher fellow and meet with him.
As he was leaving he again saw Maggie, who said good-bye. They both expressed the hope that they would see each other again soon. Jud meant it, and hoped she did.
When he got to his car, he suddenly felt tired. He told Saint he would be in touch. He thought about what Saint said about driving, and he told the car to drive him home. As the car entered the main highway, he began to drift asleep. He would be home in just a few hours...
Chapter 6
Sitting in his office the next day, Jud found himself pondering all that Saint had told him. Although it could have just been well developed paranoia, Jud had to admit that much of what Saint said made sense.
If a group of powerful people had control over much of Western thought, it would certainly be to their benefit to maintain it. And, if the Lander religion is central to that control, pity anyone who seriously threatened to challenge these beliefs. This last point had a particular edge to it, given that Saint claimed that two of his colleagues had suddenly gone missing.
Then there’s this Jessie Christopher fellow. How does he fit into all of this? He’s in Guadalupe, Mexico. Jud had certainly never heard of him. Jud wondered if contacting him would be of use, or would this be prove to be a waste of time? Further, if Jud were to go see him, could he be trusted with what Jud had discovered?
Jud didn’t reach any conclusions before Norm came into the office. Jud had left Norm to deal with the LIGHT people, and Jud wondered if Norm now had an ax to grind.
“Um, Dr. Astin? Can I speak with you?” Norm asked.
“Sure, Norm, come in. I’m sorry you got stuck yesterday. How’d it go?” Jud asked.
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk with you about. Carl Landerson, the Head of Research, didn’t seem too pleased you weren’t here,” Norm began.
“Couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid,” replied Jud.
“Yeah, well, he said that I should tell you to call him the moment I saw you today,” continued Norm. “He was real insistent about it.”
“Well, I’ll get to it when I’m able,” Jud said, seeming unconcerned.
“You might want to make that sooner rather than later,” Norm suggested. “He already checked with the guys at security and found out you’ve been here since before 8 this morning.”