The Revelations by Erik Hoel (some good books to read TXT) 📗

we can just start there, if you really want to do this.” Kierk gestures to the throng of empty seats.

“The theory carves nature at its joint. It finds precisely where consciousness resides in the brain, and reads it out. You know all this. You worked on it. I cannot believe it is you who plays Brutus.”

“You’re not carving nature at its joints, but at your own. You can’t construct a theory of observers that requires there be observers in the first place!”

“You’re too much of a philosopher, you always were. Abstract jabberwocky without any rigor.”

“No! You’re the philosopher! With your calculated metaphysics, with your systems of the world!”

“You claim you are the scientist here?”

“No! I’m not anything anymore.”

“You were always like this, Kierk. This is why you did not graduate. You could never complete work. You were a poor excuse for a graduate student.”

“You were a tyrant to me! A petty tyrant who tried to crush me at every chance. I didn’t do the work because, not only did I see the flaws, but also because of the way you treated me!”

“Dramatic accusations! You always had a flair for drama. You’ve warped everything through your own biased perception.”

“Then what about Daniel?”

“That . . . was unfortunate. He came to the lab just as he was developing schizophrenia.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened. He brought a fucking gun into lab. Remember when his wife called sobbing? And the police took him away? Now he’s in some sanatorium. Five months under you was all it took. I did five fucking years.”

“Mentally ill people crack under the intellectual pressure of working at the very cutting edge of science. I gave you an opportunity few people in history ever have! A chance to prove you’re a genius! And you threw it away!”

“You were afraid of me! Some part of you suspected that I wasn’t a convert. So you made my life a hell for years. I was a threat!”

“Will you continue to blame me for all of your failures your whole life, Kierk, or will you ever get tired of it?”

“You fucking son of a—”

“Kierk, what the hell is going on?!”

From where they’ve moved toward each other on the stage the two men spin to the door, where Karen is standing with a look of total outrage on her face.

The gala is being held in a great hall off Washington Square Park. The interior of the building is decked out with long tables, paintings on the walls, elegant chandeliers. Carmen notices that everyone has gotten surprisingly dressed up for an academic setting. She wanders around a bit in the little black dress she had thrown on, looking for Kierk. People are already sitting at tables, especially a lot of the higher-ups, all talking over wine that servers are bringing around. Others, like her, mill about between the tables, sipping glasses and pilfering hors d’oeuvres. Finally, she runs into Alex by the cheese platters.

“What’d you think of the talk?” she asks him.

“I really liked it. Antonio is just so ambitious, I love it. But I’ve also talked to Kierk a lot so I think I’ve become corrupted.”

“Have you seen him?” Carmen asks.

“Yeah, Dr. Moretti is over there at the table,” Alex points to where all the top researchers are sitting, laughing and talking, and Antonio Moretti is at the center.

“No. I meant Kierk. Have you seen Kierk?”

“Oh. No, no I haven’t seen him.”

“I just thought that, since he wasn’t at the talk . . .” Carmen trails off.

“I’m sure he just didn’t want to go. I’d love to talk to Dr. Moretti, though. My PhD mentor knew him pretty well. So I heard some stories. Apparently he’s from this old, like, noble Italian family, right? His father, Giuseppe Moretti, was a famous politician, the mayor of some big city in Italy for many years. And Giuseppe had three sons, all born in wealth and privilege to their doting mother. Private tutors, the works. There were high expectations for all of them. One son was to go conquer the world of politics, to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s now a cabinet member of the Italian government. The second son was to go conquer the world of finance. That son eventually worked his way to becoming a partner and managing director of Goldman Sachs. The third son was to conquer the world of ideas. The world of science. There sits the third son.”

Carmen looks over to the big table where Antonio is sampling a bottle of wine that the waiter is holding out. Sitting next to him, looking small and childish in comparison, are Norman Bennett, Karen, and Max, along with another man Carmen doesn’t recognize. Antonio is moving his hands about dramatically like he’s telling a story, gesturing, shaking his head.

“Who’s the other guy next to him?” Carmen asks.

“Oh, he’s actually from DARPA, I think.”

The man from DARPA is looking on as Karen and Norman are nodding sympathetically to whatever Antonio is saying. Then Karen is talking, looking like she’s agreeing with Antonio. The man from DARPA seems unsure but Max is the only one who is openly uncomfortable at what’s being said. He stands up, putting down his napkin, walking toward Carmen and Alex.

“Now that Dr. Moretti’s surrounded I’m probably going to miss him again,” Alex says, disappointed.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

“ Didn’t you know? He just gave a talk at Columbia University like three weeks ago. Guess he’s been in and out of New York. I figured you’d know, it’s your alma mater.”

“He was here three weeks ago? He was in the city?”

“What? Yeah, he gave a public talk that Saturday morning. And of course, I didn’t go. What with Atif and all. What a terrible weekend.”

Carmen is shaking her head, backing away, setting down her wineglass as one hand goes to her mouth, looking over at Dr. Moretti. Alex is staring at her quizzically.

“Carmen, what’s up?”

“What? Oh, nothing . . . Nothing.”

Max is now beside them, letting air out in a