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

problem is a national imperative, and thanks to them, we’re going to have the first group of young researchers in the history of the world that are all explicitly focused on the science of consciousness. Let’s give a warm welcome to the eight new scientists!”

Light applause, and Kierk claps with the uncertainty of someone clapping for himself.

“You’ll be based here, at the Center for Neural Science, or CNS. This new generation has tough questions to answer. Why do some physical systems have what philosophers call ‘qualia,’ the qualitative, what-it-is-like aspect of experience? Is there a way to solve the explanatory gap, what some have called the Hard Problem, of squeezing mind out of matter? Two years is provided for in terms of funding. There will be an advising committee with four members on it for each Crick Scholar. Your committees, of which I am a member of each, will oversee each Scholars’ research. We’ve taken the liberty of assigning every Crick Scholar to a lab. Additionally, we have been working with the department here and DARPA to get funding for two tenure-track positions at NYU in consciousness science, so two of you will be sticking around permanently! Let’s see if I can go from left to right here, I have a list . . . That there is Atif Tomalin, he was just at Oxford doing electrophysiological recordings of neurons in primates.”

The tall man with the mane of black hair gives a thin-lipped smile.

“And we have Mike Benson, from Harvard, who’s done work in linguistics and neuroimaging.” A square-headed guy with a crew cut wearing a crimson sweatshirt that reads HARVARD waves.

“Jessica Lem, who’s from McGill University, who also has a great record in neuroimaging.” A pretty black girl gives a friendly smile while nervously playing with the bracelet on her wrist.

“Greg Monroe from MIT does work in artificial intelligence.” Greg has a shaggy bowl cut which makes him look like a teenager. He’s sallow and doughy, and does an awkward little dip when he’s introduced.

“Alex Luce, who did his graduate work at Caltech on action potentials and single neuron dynamics.” Alex flashes a smile; he’s blond and slim of stature.

“Carmen Green, from Columbia University. She just had a paper out in Nature arguing that the whole cortex participates in conscious experiences, so we expect great things from her.” The young woman waves to everyone at the table, grins. Some of the men in the room wave back reflexively.

“Leon Schmidt, an MD-PhD from the Max Planck Institute in Germany.” A large bearish fellow nods solemnly several times.

“And finally Kierk Suren, who decided to accept this position, um, rather last minute, but we’re very happy to have him as he comes from Antonio Moretti’s lab in Madison, Wisconsin. A theoretician, his last paper was called ‘Mapping Consciousness.’ And that’s it! We’ll be giving tours of the facilities later, and you officially join your hosting labs bright and early tomorrow.”

Norman steps off the podium to polite applause. Quickly people break into small islands of conversations. Kierk is approached by a woman radiating the kind of youthful professorship achieved only by those who go right to tenure track. She smiles and offers a hand to shake.

“Kierk, right? I’m Karen Moskowitz. You’re in my lab so I’m on your committee by default.”

“A pleasure, Karen. And I know you, I’ve read some of your papers,” Kierk lies.

“I’m glad you decided to accept our offer, even if it was last minute.” She winks at him. “Anyway, where have you been since you left the Moretti lab?”

“California.”

“Working with?”

“Actually, I wasn’t doing research.”

“Oh, what were you doing?”

“Not much. Writing, really. I had a car but no money, so I just drove across country.” Kierk affixes a friendly smile to his face.

“Well good for you! Taking a break, I know how necessary that can be.” Karen pauses for a second. “Anyways, tomorrow you can get back into the swing of things and I’ll give you a tour of my lab. If you ever need to send a strong electromagnetic pulse into someone’s head, I’m your gal.”

“That all sounds good, thanks.”

A man joins them. Broad-shouldered with a strong chin and dark hair, he introduces himself as Max Pierce.

“So you’re our lost discovery who caused so much drama,” Max says to Kierk. “If I remember, you left your PhD close to finishing? That took some sorting out with the University of Wisconsin. You’re going to complete your degree here, correct?”

“Yes, it was great of the committee to get everything organized, I really appreciate how flexible you’ve been. Really.”

“Well, whatever happened between you and Antonio Moretti, your research was quite good. Interesting stuff.”

“Thank you. But it wasn’t really going the direction that I wanted it to go in.”

“And what direction was that?”

“Well,” Kierk gives a helpless laugh, “a theory of consciousness.”

“Ambitious. Doesn’t Antonio Moretti already have a theory of consciousness? Seems a bit presumptive to want your own.”

Kierk idly wonders if the plastic fork could break through the cartilage of Max’s throat.

“Therein lies the rub. Indeed he does. I helped develop it when I was there.”

Max shrugs. “All that theoretical stuff is beyond me. Too mathy.”

“Yes.”

“Hey, Max,” Karen says, grinning at him. “Be on Kierk’s committee with me.”

Max looks Kierk up and down. “Alright,” he says gruffly.

“Great! Oh!” she exclaims, “Kierk, you should meet Alex.” She beckons Kierk over to the other Crick Scholar standing by a table lined with breakfast, then excuses herself. Alex and he nod at each other, clasping each other’s outstretched hand.

“Do you remember the time at that conference when everyone was drunk and singing in the hotel lobby?” Alex asks.

“Berlin, right?” Kierk replies, chuckling. “And then when the security was called all the principal investigators were trying to get the PhD students to take the fall for them. Schnell! Schnell!”

“Glad you’re here,” Alex says, laughing. “I think you’ll make the program more . . . interesting.”

Around them everyone is very upright, studious, eager to please, and Kierk starts to get sick looking over at Mike from Harvard