The Ultimate Reprieve Read online

  “Not that I know of. I hide a spare key in case I lock myself out, but I haven't told anybody where.”

  “Do you know Jim Haskins?”

  “Yes. Do you suspect him?”

  “Not really. But he doesn't like you and I think he may have ESP. That would provide a way to unearth the whereabouts of your spare key, but wouldn't help with your signature. No one else comes to mind.”

  “ESP? Don't tell me you believe in ESP,” said Ben, laughing heartily.

  “Why not?” Jenny snorted.

  “Because there's no such thing. Anyone with any intelligence knows that it's impossible.”

  “Humph. And I suppose you think you're intelligent.”

  “You told me I scored very highly on my IQ test.”

  “Big deal. I only gave you the test because the administration requires it. If you really were intelligent you would realize that it means nothing.”

  “How do you figure that? All scientists know that any concept, like intelligence, is only meaningful if it can be measured. The IQ test does that.”

  “Then imagination and creativity must not be essential components of intelligence. Furthermore, the test was originally intended only to differentiate between low and average intelligence. Not until some hotshot started tinkering with it and imposed a time limit did educators elevate its stature beyond that. Far from measuring anything important, the test now focuses on only one thing — speed, a highly overrated asset. Test-makers mistakenly suppose that an aptitude for fast thinking and instant recall is equivalent to an ability to reason well. An iniquitous emphasis on speed pervades society, as exemplified by the popularity of TV quiz shows. How quickly one can pinpoint a trivial fact is considered to be an indication of how smart he is.”

  “Well then at least a high IQ indicates a good memory, which is an aspect of intelligence.”

  “Perhaps. But if not taking some kind of timed test you can afford to take at least ten minutes to solve a problem rather than the fifty seconds or so allotted on average for a typical test question, and ten minutes is more than enough time to look up anything that isn't at your fingertips.

  “Einstein needed twenty years to develop his theories of relativity and, although he was clearly a genius, had he taken an IQ test his score might have been unimpressive. Furthermore, speed of recall slows with age, so as one gets older his score on an IQ test would decrease. But some of our most acute thinkers have always been found among the elderly.”

  “So you would eliminate the IQ test?”

  “In a second. Every child is required to take it in grade school before reaching the age of eight. After the result is reported to parents and teachers he or she is forever pigeonholed until graduating or dropping out from the educational system. Those fortunate enough to score well on the test are proclaimed worthy of special attention — especially by adults who also happened to score well when they took the test.

  “But the woeful wretches whose scores are merely average have a difficult time overcoming the stigma. Parents and teachers expect mediocre performance, at best, and dissuade them from striving to excel so as to circumvent a blow to their self-esteem in case they fail, which is thought to be inevitable. By ensuring that the parents’ plummeting expectations are realized, this self-fulfilling prophecy has arguably done more to stifle creativity than anything else we have foisted upon society.

  “What counts in life is what one does, not how well one takes tests. Many high scorers tend to smugly rest on their laurels as if they had already achieved life's highest honor and never try to accomplish something worthwhile. On the other hand low scorers, who may nevertheless possess rare and exceptional genius, are discouraged from aspiring to greatness.”

  Ben had no response; he had met his match. Jenny was extremely bright and, although a year younger, as highly regarded by the Academy in the field of psychology as he was in astrophysics. Swallowing his pride in his high IQ, he thought he might do better arguing against ESP. At least he could use a scientific approach and be on firmer ground, or so he thought. “Let's get back to ESP. How could you believe in that? There is no medium through which brain waves can propagate.”

  “So what? Light can travel in a vacuum.”

  “True, but by what possible mechanism could our brains send and receive thoughts?”

  “I don't have the answer, but the inner workings of conceptualization and language are still poorly understood and no one doubts their existence. They both passed through early stages; the first human brains that possessed a ripened form of those astounding powers were no less miraculous than someone would be today who exhibited an incipient power of ESP. Perhaps our brain is on the verge of evolving the full capacity for ESP but is still in its early phase.”

  “No one has yet convincingly demonstrated that they possess even rudimentary ESP.”

  “In order to gain credibility one would have to demonstrate some prowess but wouldn't need to achieve anything close to a high success rate on any pre-designed test. Consistently outperforming others would suffice to merit consideration until a more developed power of ESP emerges in our species, and Jim Haskins has done that.”

  Once again Ben was bested. Chagrined and no longer cocky, he decided he'd better regroup before again stubbing his toe and suffering further humiliation, particularly at the hands of the woman he most wanted to impress. “I have to go to my quantum theory lecture, but perhaps we can discuss the manuscript over dinner.”

  “Are you asking me for a date?”

  “I guess so,” said Ben sheepishly.

  “Hmmm. Well it's somewhat unprofessional for a counselor to date one of her clients but I'll make an exception in this case.”

  “Great. I'll meet you at your place at six.”

  Ben was elated to think that, just maybe, Jenny was as interested in him as he was in her.

  4

  Jim

  Jenny's next scheduled appointment, Jim Haskins, was her most vexing challenge. Although unquestionably brilliant he was unable to sustain a high level of interest in academic pursuits. Having lost his parents at a young age he couldn't shake the subconscious premonition that life singled him out for perennial disappointment. Jenny knew he needed to become aware of and confront this lingering sword of Damocles, but had been unable to break through to his inner persona. Quite communicative and perceptive when describing others, he was eerily reluctant to talk about himself.

  Past counseling sessions had yielded little progress so Jenny decided to take a new approach; she would tell him she was drawn to Ben. She knew that Jim liked her and hoped that by introducing a rival she would finally stir some emotional response — even the negative one of jealousy would be better than none. As a bonus she might also be able to ascertain whether or not he was the one trying to unnerve Ben with the mysterious manuscript. She began with the customary, “How was your day?”

  “Lousy. I went to the poker parlor for some amusement, but it only saddened me,” Jim responded cynically.

  “How so?”

  “I was surrounded by the usual motley assortment of putrid characters — pathetic neurotics spending another beautiful day inside a smoke-filled room trying to outdo each other to win a few measly bucks. Their faces were etched with intensity as they tried to keep their heads above water financially and win enough for their next meal; none of them could afford a large loss. They fail to realize that they are already lost, already starving, their souls being fatally undernourished from a total lack of self-esteem.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “For them, winning means much more than money in their pocket, it's the only thing that keeps their ego inflated until a loss flattens it again like a punctured balloon. Every night they return to the merry-go-round. Their addiction leaves them no time for dating, outdoor fun, cultural stimulation, nor any other healthy activity that enriches life.

  “A flesh and blood person is nothing more than a potential dupe to be hustled or cheated. Competition is a
ll there is to life; cooperation, much less love, is nonexistent. They attack and destroy their own kind with apparent zeal, like beta fish or black widow spiders. They remind me more of a collection of primordial scum in a small puddle of riverbed slime or on the damp underside of a decaying log than anything human.”

  “You sound bitter. Do they remind you of something that hits home?”

  “Only that society shuns them. Yet society is responsible. It offers them no escape. At one time they were all bright young men and women with unlimited futures. Unfortunately, they were lured to their monotonous existence by a few early gambling successes and those age-old corruptors, the glitter of money and the temptation of an easy life, before they were experienced enough to realize that gambling is just another tedious twelve hour a day job, but without the camaraderie of a team of fellow coworkers pursuing a common goal.

  “No matter how bright they may be and how much untapped potential they may still have, they are now unskilled middle-aged nonentities for whom business has no use. They have become superfluous and they know it, which makes it even worse. They are under no illusions, have no fantastical pipe dreams, and realize they have been trapped by their poor early choices. Being aware that they have only themselves to blame further exacerbates their misery.”

  “Do you feel trapped and shunned by society?”

  “There you go again, trying to open me up,” replied Jim with a puckish smile.

  Jenny had reached this impasse before. He reacted as anticipated, always eluding any attempt to segue into inner feelings. It was time for her sneak attack. “You mentioned that love was nonexistent for them. Is that much of a loss?”

  “Only if you meet someone with whom you'd like to give it a shot.”

  “I know what you mean. I may have found someone for myself,” said Jenny shrewdly.

  Jim was taken off guard. Could she mean him? He was under the impression that he had made headway with her. “Me too,” he responded hopefully, with trembling heart.

  “That's great. Ben Davis asked me for a date tonight. Who has captured your eye?”

  That did it. Registering anguish, he launched an emotional outburst rife with self-pity and suppressed anger. “Ben Davis? Why him? Why not me? I thought you liked me. Here we go again. Every time things seem to be going my way and I'm about to grab life by the balls some freaky, improbable, bullshit thing comes along to screw it up! Damn it! It isn't fair. Millions of losers out there get more than their share of breaks even though they don't deserve to. Yet I, who do all the right things and am sensitive, honest, moral, witty, bright, everything good — all I ever get is the shaft.

  “Whenever I meet a girl worth looking at twice and start to apply the charm, she reacts as if I had the plague. All the ugly, shallow, slovenly, ill-mannered, egotistical and/or sadistic assholes of the world have some beautiful babe hanging all over them but I can't get to first base with anyone. Why? Bad fucking luck, that's why! What's the use of trying? The outcome is always the same.” This was the first time since his parents died that Jim had revealed his gut to anyone, let alone one for whom he nurtured affectionate feelings that rendered him particularly exposed and vulnerable.

  Jenny was somewhat unsure what to do next; this tirade was more intense than expected. She began by addressing the most pressing problem, the anxiety accompanying his emotional nakedness. “I certainly don't think you're a loser. In fact I find you quite attractive as do, incidentally, many of my friends,” she said reassuringly.

  With his lanky frame, blond hair and piercing light blue eyes, Jim would have been more receptive to this revelation were he not so insecure. “I feel like an idiot.”

  “I had no idea you were interested in me,” she lied. “I do like you; it’s just that I like Ben even more.”

  “Why is life so dull? Every morning I wake up, shower, brush my teeth, attend boring classes, come home to an empty room, and go to bed. It's scary.”

  “What are you frightened of?”

  “That every day will be as meaningless as the previous one. What if I never break out of it? Sometimes I wish I'd go blind or become crippled because that would force me out of the rut. Blind people and cripples are better off than I am.”

  “Perhaps you're right. Many handicapped people develop a healthy outlook from their misfortune. They adopt a unique perspective on life and learn to make the most of every moment rather than wallow in self-pity. Taking nothing for granted, they appreciate what they have rather than resent what they don't. But it's just a matter of attitude and you have the same capacity to alter yours as they did. What you lack is motivation. It would do you good to recognize that you're an ‘emotional cripple’. Do you have any close friends?”

  “No.”

  “Why not try to make one?”

  “I'll get rejected.”

  “You have to shed your defeatist attitude. As a poker player you should know that there are no rewards without taking risks.”

  “Gambling is only worthwhile if the odds are in your favor.”

  “And you think you're an underdog to make a friend? Hasn't anyone ever tried to befriend you?”

  “A few times, but no dice,” he grinned.

  “Why?”

  “They were uninteresting. I have trouble finding an intellectual equal.”

  “You are very bright, but there are others.”

  “Like who?”

  “Well, like Ben for example.”

  “I should have known. You aren't exactly neutral.”

  “I evaluate my students impartially, irrespective of personal feelings,” she replied indignantly.

  “Anyway, I don't like him.”

  “Why not? I respect your opinions about people; you are very insightful. Your reasons may steer me away from Ben and more toward you.”

  “Fat chance. Well, for one thing, he's conceited and arrogant. He nurtures his reputation as a genius and revels in it.”

  “Perhaps you're envious. You're no more immune than the rest of us from the competitiveness that you disdain in your poker cronies. Besides, Ben's arrogance is justified.”

  “Maybe. But don't you find him aloof and a little snobbish?”

  “He can come across that way but is oblivious to it and would alter his behavior if you brought it to his attention. You two would hit it off. You're intellectual equals with many common interests and he certainly isn't uninteresting. You'd probably find it easier to open up to him than to me. Moreover, as a friend he could provide you with feedback that I, as your counselor, can't.”

  “Why would he bother?”

  “Alan Frost, his assigned understudy in astrophysics, is his only pal, and not a close one. Perhaps, like you, Ben has trouble finding someone with enough depth of thought to have valuable viewpoints. However it's more likely he thinks devoting time to cultivate a friendship would hinder his career. But you could be a companion that contributes to it.”

  Jim had recovered from the embarrassment of revealing what now seemed like a ridiculously improbable self-conceit — that he could have been Jenny's chosen one. Her calm, matter-of-fact reaction soothed him into surviving unscathed the terrifying hurdle of uncontrollably revealing his innermost thoughts. Pleased to find his fragile ego virtually intact, he was beginning to relax but was ashamed he had used stronger terms than he thought proper for a woman's ears. With a twinkle in his eye he replied, “How can I befriend the man who has vanquished me in love?”

  “The battle isn't over. I haven't gone out with him yet.”

  “But as his counselor you must know him pretty well.”

  “I know that I like him, but maybe he won't like me after tonight's date. Anyway, even if he does the three of us could hang out together if you two become buddies.”

  “We've known each other for years and haven't exchanged more than two words. I wouldn't know how to approach him.”

  “Well now you have a ready-made topic of conversation — me. Have either of you done anything to alienate the other
that would need to be reconciled?” Jenny asked, with the manuscript in mind.

  “He has never so much as crossed my mind, nor I his.”

  This candid response convinced her that he didn't perpetrate the hoax; she knew he was too sensible to be anything but forthright with his therapist. “If you like, I can broach the subject of you two becoming friends without letting on that we've discussed it. I'm sure Ben will have no trouble taking the first step if he's interested. He's much more outgoing than you are. Maybe some of that will rub off on you.”

  “Suit yourself,” he shrugged.

  Jenny knew how to correctly interpret the gesture. This was the closest he had ever come, and probably the closest he ever would come, to a flat out yes. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

  5

  Quantum Theory in the 23rd Century

  “Hello Ben, you're always prompt,” smiled Andrew Ryan, Ben's crotchety quantum theory professor. He was so much livelier and more animated than Professor Richardson that Ben looked forward to lectures in quantum theory even more than in relativity.

  “I don't want to waste a second of our time.”

  “Then I'll start right in. As we have seen, quantum theory is completely irreconcilable with human intuition when it comes to how the real world actually works.”

  “To say the least! Quantum theory asserts that reality has no underpinnings; it only crystallizes into existence when observed. Until then there is only an ethereal mist of possibilities.” Ben had done his homework.

  “Yes, reality is indeed unfathomable. After the initial shock of quantum theory's implications began to subside, four interpretations of its strange nature emerged. In the last lecture I covered the most widely accepted one, the Copenhagen interpretation of Neils Bohr and Werner Heisenberg, to which you are referring. It asserts all reality is created by observation and has no independent existence. Today we will discuss the many-worlds interpretation, an alternative first proposed by Hugh Everett in 1957. Did you complete your reading assignment, Quantum Reality3 ?”