“…. the "Childqueen," that innermost self that you were truthfully and instinctively before the weight of the world came crashing in.”

Kadhja Bonet 2018

Films used to be great. Now they’re easy to make, easy to sell, easy to get bored of. Everything’s 4 stars or more. Everything’s the best film of the year. Fast food films, fast food music, fast food politics, fast food ideologies. What’s the worth of working to live at the cost of your soul? So much so that you don’t want to live at all?

L.A. Salami 2016

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Contents

Prologue ...... 1 Chapter 1 The Porch ...... 3 Chapter 2 John ...... 33 Chapter 3 The Dock ...... 46 Chapter 4 The Lake ...... 69 Chapter 5 Dinner ...... 89 Chapter 6 The Tour ...... 113 Chapter 7 Jackie ...... 133 Chapter 8 Atlanta ...... 159 Chapter 9 The Interview ...... 174 Chapter 10 Kirby ...... 197 Chapter 11 The Barn ...... 220 Chapter 12 Phil Blake ...... 231 Chapter 13 Thomas ...... 254 Chapter 14 Beatrice ...... 275 Chapter 15 The Woods ...... 313 Chapter 16 Africa ...... 326 Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters ...... 349 Chapter 18 Heather ...... 370 Chapter 19 Tea and Scones ...... 388 Chapter 20 Ficksburg ...... 420 Chapter 21 Josh ...... 442 Chapter 22 Boston ...... 465 Chapter 23 Innocence ...... 491

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Chapter 24 Friday the 19th ...... 515 Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe ...... 532 Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie ...... 553 Chapter 27 Thanksgiving ...... 568 Chapter 28 The Game ...... 591 Chapter 29 Shadow ...... 620 Chapter 30 Thenjiwe ...... 634 Chapter 31 Ice Fishing ...... 655 Chapter 32 The Countdown ...... 678 Chapter 33 The Conversation ...... 694 Chapter 34 The Senator ...... 705 Chapter 35 Brothers ...... 717 Chapter 36 Today ...... 736 Chapter 37 Revelations ...... 758 Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake ...... 770 Chapter 39 Aftermath ...... 786 Chapter 40 Frank ...... 797 Chapter 41 Finale ...... 805 Epilogue ...... 829 Location Map – John’s Property ...... 831

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Prologue

He had grown old. He was in his nineties now. But he couldn’t imagine his life having been any different or any better.

There was a time his only companions were the trees, and his Labradors. With his loyal Labradors alongside him, he had explored every inch of the woods. They had swum with him in the lake and as a young man, been there when he experienced the despairing loss of his mother. His beloved Labrador, Callie had trekked with him amongst the forest trees of the wilderness for many days, sharing his pain and providing him comfort during those interminable nights when the stars barely flickered through the trees that towered over him. Those trees, he thought, they were much older than himself and had been so vital in keeping his earliest memories alive. They had seen it all. They were with him when he ran freely as a boy, pretending to be those adventure book characters that spawned his many boyhood fantasies and dreams. They had witnessed the decisions. He remembered one impossibly difficult decision that changed everything. They were there then, giving him strength and encouragement. If only he could tell those trees how important their role had been in his life.

He was sitting in his favourite chair brought up from the old house. Gazing out the large picture window he was reminiscing about his own good fortune in having had such great people share his life. He thought he could hear their voices telling his story. They had stood resolutely watching over him every day of their lives, since the very first day he had met each of them. He felt that those who had passed on were still watching down upon him, still following the progress they had started. “They could tell a great story”, he whispered to himself.

He remembered how the trees had once helped him hide from a world he couldn’t understand. He had believed that was best, until one day there came a stranger from a far‐off country. He had knocked at his door and derailed his peace. But the stranger’s intentions were good and true, opening his eyes to a much more lasting peace, a peace no longer entrenched in hiding, but enlightened by knowing.

The strength he had back then had faded with the years. But no longer was it required. There have been others who had carried the load, taking what he began, growing it and helping it bloom. Nearly fifty years ago, a little boy without a mother touched his heart. He still remembered the aching pain he felt for the little boy’s

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loss, his diminutive and saddened figure sitting alone beneath the big old tree, talking to the mother he had lost. The little boy had torn him from his despondency, emboldened him to peer beyond the trees, and at the world he had shunned for nearly thirty years.

The little boy, with his straggly straw‐coloured hair and eyes too hollow for such a young age, had unwittingly played his role in releasing the forces which built the miracle that followed.

They were a dedicated few, his friends. The love between them grew stronger as the struggle deepened. His fondness for those who are not with him now, had not dimmed. He had longed for them over the years and still he missed them today as he gazed out at the trees. The moisture in the corner of his eyes was joined by his smile as he reminded himself, they too would be missing him.

It was nearly time for his coffee.

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Chapter 1 The Porch

The potholed road from the village had narrowed into a single lane. Above him the tree canopy was intertwined as one, blocking out all but the occasional slivers of sun. The strobe effect of which was annoying him. The undergrowth of shrubs, ferns and smaller trees were very close, right up to the edges of the lane. It was lush but impenetrable. He felt it closing in, just as he had felt his world sometimes closing in these past few years. He had experienced that feeling more of late. Each time he had shaken free and started again. Why this time, when he was so close? An omen perhaps.

Phil rounded the last of the bends, a little gentler than those before. Suddenly he had broken free of the claustrophobia he wasn’t enjoying. Near darkness was replaced by filtered sunlight and his feeling of impending doom vanished. It was behind him, where it belonged. He had just passed the transition zone, as he was to discover later. That boundary keeping John safe from the outside world. He had unknowingly entered John’s sanctuary, his house in the woods.

A short distance later, Phil listened to the almost imperceptible squelching of tyres on soft grass. Just for a moment he feared he had somehow ended up in the wrong place. He had followed John’s directions to the letter. “This must be it”, he said. A stand of trees off to his left fell away to reveal John’s house. Phil felt a rush of relief at having arrived. Nestled amongst small trees of vibrant greens and backdropped by an imposing mountain, his house was bathed in the glorious late morning sunshine. It wasn’t the prestigious mansion befitting a man of John’s means. More welcoming than imposing. Phil sort of expected as much, even though he knew little of the man he was about to meet. He let his gaze linger momentarily. It was hard not to when it glowed so brilliantly white.

Not wanting to disturb the lawn, he tiptoed the car towards the house. Switched off and waited a few seconds. No one appeared. He stepped from the car, stretched his legs and lower back, taking stock of his surroundings as he did. He could feel his legs trembling and was more than aware of the nervous nausea in his stomach. If someone were to describe his chance of success as, “Too close to call”, he would be happy. He would take that any day. He reached back into the car and collected his small carryall, which doubled as his business case. Again, he stretched a little and straightened his shirt before setting off towards the wooden stairs leading up to the house. A few steps later there was the sound of a person calling out from 3

Chapter 1 The Porch behind. He turned to see John walking toward him from the barn some distance away. He was halfway across the grass when he called his name again.

John almost jogged the final ten yards with hand outstretched in preparation for their greeting. He was tall, a little on the lean side with a mop of thick dark hair. Phil welcomed John’s hand with his and felt the warmth of friendship immediately.

“Great to finally meet you”, John said in his usual friendly manner.

Phil thought John’s face carried one of the most genuine smiles he had seen in nearly a week. “Likewise”, he replied awkwardly. Unusually, he was lost for words.

Once the greetings were completed and both men were seated on the porch, John didn’t hesitate in asking what Phil’s big idea was all about. They had exchanged emails over the preceding month or two, but Phil hadn’t revealed his idea. He needed an expert in artificial intelligence for his big idea. That much John already knew. What John didn’t know, was that was the easy part. Phil also needed John to be on board with his views on mankind. That was the truly difficult part.

Phil didn’t want to divulge his idea so soon and had asked for a raincheck. John was unperturbed, he had thought he would just ask anyway. He was happy to wait.

His nervousness returned. Phil inhaled a deep breath or two before launching into his carefully prepared and practised presentation. It was daunting for this bloke from country Queensland to be talking to an American with John’s credentials. John was forty‐six, never married and considered by many to be a recluse of sorts. He had grown up in his house in the woods in Upstate New York and was believed to be wealthier than a small country.

Phil leaned back, deep in thought. He had just spent a good ten minutes bamboozling John with descriptions of humanity’s woes. Following his opening gambit, he fired his first volley across John’s bow. “My view of mankind is one of him having fallen into a hole…, and it is only going to get deeper”, he said.

Up to that point he had closely followed his prepared presentation. One he had continually refined following each unsuccessful attempt to win an audience over. John was unlike any of those people he had previously tried to vainly fill with enthusiasm. He hadn’t laughed like them. The way people laugh when the intent is

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Chapter 1 The Porch to ridicule. He hadn’t shaken his head in disbelief. He hadn’t disagreed with anything or even asked a question.

John was sitting opposite Phil, a slight frown on his forehead. He was tapping the arm of his chair the fingers of his right hand, clearly digesting everything he just heard. Phil was unsure, but was inclined to convince himself that John was happy to just listen. He wondered if it was a desire for company that had made John so amenable to his visit.

During previous presentations, Phil had felt hostility from his audience. He would feel it within the first few minutes, not much more. Hoping it would recede he would continue. But the hostility would grow. The only refuge he had on those occasions was to stay with the presentation. He sometimes began to deliver it as if it wasn’t his. Dissociating himself, trying to direct the audience’s anger and frustration elsewhere.

It was different today. John was willing to listen. He didn’t need to hide behind his presentation, playing the role of messenger. He decided to be different and dispense with the structured presentation and do what he does best, just talk. Talk as if he was with an old mate, chewing the fat over old times. He was at his most charming and innovative when the conversation flowed, swirled and bounced, then flowed again. It was worth a go, he thought. He could feel Himself begin to waiver again. That feeling he had driving along the darkened lane returned. An impulse to throw it all in, grab his small case and mumble a quick apology. He dug deep.

John still hadn’t made a sound. The silence further unnerved Phil. He thought he better say something. He lent forward and opened his mouth to begin. At that very moment John awoke from his silence and Phil stopped, he was more than eager to listen.

“So, you are saying mankind is in a hole?”, John asked with mild amusement in his voice.

“That’s right mate”, Phil replied, momentarily lapsing into his broad Australian accent. He had spent the past week in New York trying to soften his accent. The stories of his youth had been playing in his mind. It had been twenty years since he read how Americans viewed Australia as that curious country down under, where kangaroos inhabited Pitt Street and koalas sat on stools in the local pubs. He knew

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Chapter 1 The Porch at the time it was just a story, but it had never left him. He hadn’t wanted to evoke too much humour with his ‘Aussie’ accent.

“A somewhat audacious statement to start our friendship with”, John said with a friendly but questioning smile.

“Yeah, I guess I’m putting it out there. I can’t help but notice doubt in your question. Experience has taught me that the arguments supporting my take on mankind’s predicament generally fall on deaf ears. I will do everything in my power, share every bit of knowledge I have and take as long as you will allow me…, just to convey the truth behind my statement. …. Because….” Phil sighed and went quiet. He was back on that edge again. He was searching. Unsure if he could summon the energy to do it all again. Despondent, he was hoping John would ask him why. Give him a reason to say all he had come to say.

John watched, waiting expectantly for Phil to continue. He looked at Phil and saw a forlorn man, clearly frustrated by a string of failures. Phil was slumped in his chair and John could see he was resigned to losing again.

During the drive to John’s house, Phil had rehearsed his presentation but had stopped many times. He would become dejected at the memories of his previous audience and their spirited counter arguments, delivered in that manner which didn’t invite discussion. He had been repudiated and was even told to come back when he had something worthwhile to say. He had chosen to forget about those friends who no longer returned his calls. He had almost given up on ever finding their replacements. With John’s house only minutes away, he had asked himself, “How could it possibly be any different this time”. It was at that moment he had made his decision. This would be his final attempt. He had felt in his heart that he had done all he could and his time was nearly up.

Sitting there, feeling John’s gaze but trying to ignore it, he knew he couldn’t do it alone this time. “John, I am going to ask you to help me out here”, he said in the most confident voice he could summon. He hoped the risk wouldn’t be too great.

John was mildly surprised. Those who had sought his audience previously had never asked him for his assistance. He appreciated Phil’s honesty. “Happy to oblige. What would you like?”

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“Could you follow what I have to say, even if you believe I am going off on a tangent or over emphasising or even talking total nonsense. Could you give me the space to fully build the story before you decide to reject my conclusions and oust me from your beautiful home. Could you do that for me?”

John felt sadness for Phil. “Not a problem, Phil. How does this sound? I will listen for what I don’t know and anything I don’t like the sound of I will let you know. I will even give you time to convince me otherwise.”

“That’s extremely fair.” A smile returned to Phil’s face. “I couldn’t ask for anything more. I promise, it will all come together eventually. I just need you to ride the ups and downs along the way, …. and I do appreciate your generous offer.” John was the first person he had asked to withhold their judgements until he was done. Now that he had asked, he was more nervous than before. A fact that didn’t escape John’s notice.

“Mate”, John said in his best Australian drawl, trying to make Phil feel more comfortable. “I’ll go wherever you want to take me.” He poured Phil a glass of iced tea and passed it to him, smiling as he did. “Take a drink and let yourself relax. You’re doing fine.”

John was warming to this fellow from down under. With all his visitors he would do his homework. He had his reliable connections in the City who profiled those making a beeline for his house in the woods with their business proposals of one kind or another. Phil hadn’t shown up on any radar. Preferring not to go into a meeting empty handed, John had performed his own research of sorts. He had trawled the internet and built a quick profile of a typical Australian. So far, Phil was anything but typical.

His research about Australians had thrown up the words “brash, irreverent and laid back”. He had also read that Australians used blunt humour and when frustrated, tended to have short tempers, become confrontational with displays of aggression. The writer had found amusement in the colloquial term, ‘aggro’ which Australians used to describe this particular condition. A comment that had caught his eye just that morning, was their unbridled pride in being a ‘little Aussie battler”. The blog had ventured further, saying Australians tended to be suspicious of those who tried to better themselves. He had wondered what it would be like trying to share knowledge. Would everyone become suspicious and shout them down? He had

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Chapter 1 The Porch tried to picture a scenario but couldn’t. He was hoping to ask Phil about it during a lighter moment.

Just then, whilst studying Phil he again tried to imagine the same scenario. He was definitely observing an ‘Aussie battler’ in action, but one who was terribly battle weary. Having listened to Phil speak for ten minutes with hardly a pause for breath, he understood how his fellow Australians would have been immediately suspicious. They certainly wouldn’t have given him even the slimmest of opportunities to share his knowledge. John felt for his new friend from Downunder. He was looking at a man who may have much to give, but had been broken by his own countrymen.

Having finished his iced tea and discarded his script, Phil wasn’t too sure where to begin. He had an idea. “I feel the French Revolution of 1789 is a good place to begin. We could sift through so many events in history, but I think this is one of the better ones. It should set the tone nicely. How’s your history?”, he asked John with a bit of a swagger returning to his voice.

“I read history regularly.” John replied whilst attempting to push his concern for Phil away for the moment. He still felt the need to ease Phil’s burden. “What do you think, I give it a whirl? Let you hear what I know?”, he suggested.

“Go for it.” Phil felt relief with John’s offer. “I don’t read history for the purpose of knowing facts, dates and all the stuff that historians find so interesting. I read for another reason, so fire away. I will probably learn something.”

“What angle are we taking here?”

“I will be looking at why the revolution happened.…. But you’re welcome to cover any aspect you so desire.”

“Good. …. French Revolution. 1789, if I remember correctly. It was when the monarchy was overthrown and a republic emerged. Why? Ask five historians and you will receive at least three different answers. Some of the causes…., high government debt, successive seasons of low grain harvest and a monarchy that had mismanaged the economy. Feudalism was on the nose. This was the period of the Enlightenment, so there were a whole bunch of new political ideas floating around. People were asking ‘Why?’ to just about everything.”

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John paused to dig deeper into his memories. From a young boy he had been fascinated by France and was well‐versed in all things French. His mother had called him a Francophile and on his fourteenth birthday had given him a collection of Jules Verne novels, including Journey to the Centre of the Earth, Around the World in Eighty Days and the one that became his favourite for many years, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

“What else? Tax, of course. The country was in huge debt because of earlier stuff. The monarchy was hitting the people hard with high taxes. Needless to say, the taxation system was despised. Life was quite bad. The country was in a deep economic depression……How’d I do?” John was all smiles. He could’ve spoken much longer, but thought that was enough of a start for Phil to build his story.

“That was good. I would add something important though.” Spurred on by John’s appetite for knowledge, his enthusiasm was starting to return. “There was massive discontent by the ordinary people. They were hungry because food was short…, you did mention the grain shortage. I’ll give you that one. But what I see as being of core importance was the inequality. Feudalism, nobility and a system of privileges ensured the upper class lived well and the wealthy remained wealthy, no matter how crap everything was. Meanwhile, most of the middle and lower classes were starving. With the Enlightenment influencing new thinking, it didn’t take much for the suffering ordinary people to question the fairness of an obviously unfair class system. The setting was ideal for the long simmering resentment towards the nobility and upper classes to turn to anger, then action. What came out of the Revolution was the Liberty, Equality and Fraternity moto, which for me, points strongly at the inequality, subjugation and disenfranchisement the common people were living with. These are the core reasons for the uprisings. All the other contributing factors were either manifestations of the inequality or timely contributions to a revolution. Catalysts, one might say.”

“I can’t argue with that”, John said, happy to see Phil starting to spark up. “I will add something as well. Maybe this is why I like France as much as I do…, in case you hadn’t noticed. I have a rare book or two containing the ‘Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen’. That declaration may be over two hundred years old, but it is as relevant today as it was back then. Have you had the chance to read it?”

“I have and I agree” Phil replied, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Normally he would slowly and meticulously build the foundations to his eventual presentation 9

Chapter 1 The Porch of his view about mankind. Only after analysing numerous historical and current events would he present his truth behind mankind being in trouble. However, with John’s agreement to hear him out he thought he would turn it around, start from the end and work backwards. “It couldn’t hurt”, he said to himself. Create a hypothesis and John could help him prove or disprove it. In the process John would familiarise himself with the truth. He thought John would appreciate that, maybe even enjoy it more than being kept completely in the dark.

“John, I’m going to introduce you to a new way of viewing mankind. In the past I would do my presentation and the concept I am about to reveal would be brought in right near the end like a thunder clap”, Phil said with a well‐timed hand clap. He stopped for a second, a light went on in his mind. “Maybe that’s where I was going wrong….”, he said.

John recognised Phil’s self‐doubt but thought it best to ignore it out of fear of encouraging it. “I’m up for the journey. Let me have it”, he said with enthusiasm.

Phil went straight to the point. “Humans have a need to be competitive.” John’s face changed from one of apprehension to a quizzical gaze. Phil thought he had better repeat his statement. “John, listen. I’m not just saying humans ARE competitive. I believe that much we can assume. Although saying it does seem to intimidate most people. What I’m actually saying is this. Us humans have a NEED to be competitive.”

John’s look of puzzlement was hardly alleviated by Phil repeating his statement. “I understand there is a difference between ‘are’ and ‘need’, but I don’t get it. Human’s do need to compete to survive…. It’s a bit obvious…., isn’t it?”

“You’re correct, humans need to be competitive to survive. They also need to be competitive for another purpose. One more associated with self‐worth than with clothes, food and shelter.”

John swallowed, “Alright…., I think you need to explain further. It’s not ringing any bells”.

“That’s totally ok. This is where I ask you once again, please…, just ride the ups and downs. It will all come together. I want you to be aware I have in the past received some fairly vociferous adverse reactions to that statement. An explanation in a few short sentences doesn’t do it justice. It’s a grower. The more I talk about it, dissect 10

Chapter 1 The Porch events, throw in a few stories and so on and so on, the more you will understand. Live with that understanding long enough and the greater your chance of eventually coming to terms with the concept. That’s the theory…, so I’m hoping it works.” Phil was cautiously optimistically, hoping his encouragement would motivate John to stick with him for the duration. “It’s less cerebral and more a feeling thing. If that helps any.”

Phil was rediscovering his mojo. John had felt frustrated when Phil first said ‘humans need to be competitive’, but reminded himself of their agreement and contented himself to being patient. He trusted Phil when he said all will be revealed and he truly believed Phil will bring it all together. At least he hoped he would.

“Ok to continue?”, Phil asked. John wasn’t as comfortable as he had been, but he nodded his approval. “Competitiveness is a driver, deep inside our conscious minds. If we return to eighteenth‐century France…, inequality was placing an unfair burden on the ability for people to compete. It was a tough world with feudalism and ruling classes, mostly because of inequality. People had to compete to survive, as you kindly pointed out, just now. Social welfare wasn’t invented. There was nothing like the handouts we have today. The Declaration of the Rights of Man does seem intuitive to us today, but back then it was a real game changer. When I first read it, I found it said only one thing to me.”

John knew it had to involve competition, but he was curious all the same. “What did it say to you?”, he asked calmly.

“It was creating space for humans to compete. It doesn’t give people land, for instance. It gives them the right to own land. Even today, an individual cannot just own land. It’s not handed out per se. They must acquire it. To fund the purchase, they must compete for a job and compete to keep that job. If self‐employed they probably need to compete even harder. This is what people must do to build savings to purchase the land. The path from not owning land to owning land involves one competition after another. Allowing humans to compete within laws applied equally to everyone, is what the Declaration is all about. There’s provision for the laws to be consensual in the Declaration as well. In my mind, it is a document ensuring humans have a right to compete for wants and needs.”

John’s frustration was lingering just below the surface. “I can’t stop thinking you keep stating the obvious.”

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“Give it time…, please”, Phil encouraged. “You said you had some rare books?”

“I did…, and I do.”

“Did someone give them to you?”, Phil asked as innocently as he could.

John sat upright feeling a little indignant, but held himself in check. “Of course not. I had been waiting and watching for some years until they came up for sale. I won them at auction.”

“I’m guessing they mean a lot to you.” John nodded sternly in reply. “More than if someone just gave them to you?”, Phil added, searching for the reaction he desired.

John could see immediately where Phil was taking him. He felt the rigidity brought on by Phil’s earlier remark begin to dissipate. “I’ll give you that one”, he said with a consenting smile.

Phil returned the smile, “Now you have felt the difference between competing for a win and not competing.”

Phil was right, John thought. Understanding his concept was more about feeling. “I get the self‐worth bit too”, he said to pre‐empt Phil. “I’m not new to all the self‐ worth stuff, I’ve studied it for my computer work. I have at times, I must admit, concerned myself with a question about self‐worth. I’ve never asked this of anyone before, but I think you’re just the man. Why is self‐worth so goddamn important to people?”

Phil was genuinely surprised, even amazed by the question. He had never been asked before and yet it should be such an obvious question. But then he hadn’t reached this stage with anyone previously. He could see John was wanting to know and not just testing him. Phil was elated and genuinely excited at the prospects John foreshadowed by his question.

“I would enjoy nothing more than to answer your question. …And I will, just not yet. Please feel flattered when I say, this is one of the most important questions humans never ask. However, I must ask if I could hold off a little longer. My answer would be out of context with where we’re at. Will you let me do that…, please?”, Phil asked as politely and as diplomatically as he knew how.

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John was kind of expecting Phil to not answer. He wasn’t disappointed. He too was becoming excited by the direction Phil was taking him. He sat quietly for a minute, going over Phil’s concept of competition. He thought about the need to compete as a driver, as Phil had put it. The history books hadn’t spelled out why people railed against inequality. It was just one of those things all those authors assumed didn’t require explanation. He felt ambivalence towards Phil’s ‘need’ concept, but as he agreed, he would give Phil as long as he required to build his story. …. But it still tugged away at him. Why was inequality not accepted by humans? He could see how such a question would appear frivolous, possibly even stupid. But the animal kingdom had a definite pecking order. Animals of different species instinctively knew their place. They never had revolutions to ensure equality at the watering hole or fair distribution of territory. Although he lived in his house in the woods, separated from the real world, he was not naïve to the incredible inequality that existed beyond his sanctuary. But no one was starting a revolution. None that he had heard of, that is.

“Why is that?” John asked, not realising he was responding to his own thoughts.

“Why’s what?”

“Apologies”, John said. His face expressing minor embarrassment. “I was thinking out loud. What I meant to ask is why isn’t there a revolution today. You and I both know inequality in the world is probably worse than it has ever been in the last fifty years, maybe even longer. Why don’t we see a revolution?”

“We live in different times”, began Phil. “Back in 1789 the weapons were rudimentary. Single‐shot muskets and flintlock pistols along with cutlasses, bayonets and knives. The revolutionaries could readily equip themselves with the same weaponry as those they intended to overthrow. Do we think that is possible today?”

“I should have thought of that”, John said, a little miffed with his own naivety.

Phil lent towards John and spoke in a half whisper as if there were others listening close by. “But there is another reason.”

“Go on.” John was curious. He had already observed Phil’s restrained passion earlier, when he had spoken about competition. John noticed Phil was becoming

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Chapter 1 The Porch visibly more passionate as they delved deeper into his favourite subject matter. He was relieved Phil’s earlier defeatist attitude had departed.

“Capitalism provides the opportunity for most people to compete for survival. Which, coincidentally has much to do with its success over the tried and failed alternatives. The day people can no longer compete to improve their lives is the day despair sets in. That is when the socio‐political conditions for a revolution are ripe. Politicians and bureaucrats are far from stupid. The law is more or less the guarantee people will always have the opportunity to compete, even if the odds appear to be overwhelmingly stacked against them. Government is in the business of managing society with the limited resources they have at their disposal. Within capitalism are competing interests, two of which are very difficult to achieve simultaneously. They end up diametrically opposed, when they shouldn’t be.”

John jumped in, “What are they? The two competing interests, I mean.”

Phil had hoped he could escape having to explain such a complex issue. “Ok, I’ll try and be brief about this one. Business, particularly big business, is always striving for more profit. Increased sales in conjunction with cost reduction is how this is achieved. The focus rarely shifts from how to employ less people or pay less for labour. Think robotics or moving offshore to a cheaper labour market. This impacts ordinary people much more than those higher up. Government should be the saviour of ordinary people but capitalism corrupts government. Big business has the ability to influence government into thinking their way. The bottom line is this. When the hands of government become tied by a shortage of funds and the vested interests of the more powerful, including big business, they sail very close to the letter of the law in how they deal with ordinary people. First and foremost, ensuring people are technically and lawfully able to compete in life remains an imperative. It becomes their undoing if they don’t. People must never lose the ability to choose their lifestyle, even if circumstances force people into a lifestyle they never would have chosen. When you think of the poverty in our societies, it certainly becomes a fine line as to whether it is the government’s failure or intention. Many of those living in a dire situation would like to say ‘the system wants us to be bust, we’re easier to control when we have nothing’. If governments are not breaking the law, people are unable to point the finger unequivocally at the lawmakers and authorities. They have no grounds for a revolution.”

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“Interesting way of looking at it. Possibly a touch cynical”, John said politely enough. He thought about it for a while with Phil watching the whole time. “But even if it was proven it was the government’s intention…., people in this country couldn’t mount an armed revolt anyway. As you said, they would be outgunned before it even started.”

“Exactly. Can you see how people feel trapped by the system? Why they tend to become disgruntled with life. They may try to deny it, but they know it’s their own shortcomings, their own choices taking them there. They also believe, rightly or wrongly that those with the ability to make life easier are not lifting a finger to help.” Phil’s passion was on the rise. He yearned for the day a sense of community would return to people’s lives. “Think about this as well”, he said, his voice rising half an octave. “How much empathy would there be for those people disenfranchised by society.” Phil was gesticulating, adding emphasis. There certainly wouldn’t be empathy from factions in the military or government. And this is where the support for a revolution would need to come from. I believe society lacks empathy. People lack empathy one on one, …. which is bad enough. At the macro level, empathy hardly exists. Consider the homeless people in your country. Look at Seattle, Atlanta, Las Vegas, Los Angeles…, and they aren’t the only cities with problems. Welfare and social services are only just enough to prevent the total despair required to trigger action. Empathy for the victims is limited to the very few who reach out. Most people sit in their comfortable lounges watching their super‐ sized LED televisions with surround sound and simply want the government and the police to remove the problem. Nope, society is too divided, too disembowelled of empathy and too selfish to come together for a revolution.”

Phil emptied the iced tea pitcher into his glass and gulped at the contents. John watched as Phil drank. His hand trembled as he returned the empty glass to the table. When Phil looked at him, John nodded his agreement. “I’m well aware of what’s happening.”

“I imagine you would be when it’s on your doorstep”, said Phil. “Listen, I didn’t come here to dwell on such things. I have plenty of other things I wish to talk about, but I just wanted to put it out there. Capitalism has worked well for the last hundred years or more. However, many of the political, social and economic thinkers are questioning the longevity of capitalism. Historians and economists say everything comes and goes and capitalism is just another transitory phase. Capitalism, in its

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Chapter 1 The Porch current form may have centuries to run or it may be evolving as we speak. Some say it is a system whereby wealth relentlessly gravitates from those with little to those with plenty. If this is true, I believe capitalism has no facility to reverse this trend without transforming into a severe form of socialism which most, poor or rich, would find repugnant. Currently, there are thinkers who put forward concepts of a universal wage for everyone, regardless of employment status. Whatever the experts come up with, it is a government imperative to prevent people reaching that level of despair which triggers action.”

“At least the government has more empathy than Louis XVI had back in 1789”, quipped John.

“Or governments have learnt from history and are one hundred percent in self‐ preservation mode. In which case, empathy doesn’t come into the equation at all”, Phil said with renewed vigour.

John wasn’t catching Phil’s drift. “I think you need to explain that one.”

“Yeah, sorry about that…bit esoteric, but I kind of explained it earlier. Let me clarify it a bit better. The French Revolution gave the world the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Napoleon Bonaparte showed how to put it into play. On the face of it we should be able to say ‘Great, job done…we all live happily and communally ever after’. Has it worked out that way?”

John was enjoying himself again. The words were flowing from Phil, a mixture of passion and intellect. He was finding it quite seductive. “Definitely not”, he replied.

“Obviously. Endless disputes, horrible bloodied wars, inexcusable genocides, impetuous ideological disagreements and everything else bad or corrupt that one could imagine have scarred our world over the two hundred plus years since the Bastille was stormed. Apologies…, I left out environmental neglect. It’s a big one if you compare the future devastation and loss of life to all the wars we have already seen. At least after each war a recovery occurs. Not so sure this can happen if we stuff the planet. Anyway, what do you think all this tells us about humans. I mean, we draw up great documents such as the French Declaration we’ve spoken about along with the Magna Carta, English Bill of Rights, your Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights. We put them all together and end up with the United Nations

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Declaration of Human Rights. It all sounds great, but what has actually been happening?”

John wanted to answer, but wasn’t too sure what answer Phil was looking for. Instead, he raised his hands and offered a somewhat blank face.

“We’ve been competing”, Phil stated. “That’s all we humans have been doing…., competing.”

Phil had been sitting on the edge of his chair and John had feared he was close to slipping off. He was now slumped back into his chair mumbling and shaking his head as he did.

John didn’t know what to say. Phil was clearly emotional about the way humanity was. “Phil, isn’t competing necessary to create progress?”

To John’s surprise, Phil had listened to his question. “That is used as a justification for competing when progress is actually a collateral outcome.” John was bewildered and Phil took notice. “Let me explain. Humans need to compete. I’ve already said that. We need to compete and win to feel good about ourselves. To give us a sense of having self‐worth. Everyone needs to compete for these reasons. It doesn’t matter if it is the man who drives the school bus and spends his weekends building model airplanes or it’s the leader of a country. Everyone competes in life either by choice or with reluctance, just to survive. Or so it seems. You with me so far?”

“I am, but how does that tie in with Human Rights and wars?”, John asked.

“Bear with me. Those declarations we have spoken about should have set the tone for mankind to be cooperative. But it hasn’t ended up that way. Like I said, they were giving all humans the right to do what they need to do, compete fairly with each other.”

Phil raised himself from his chair and slowly walked to the railing. He stood and looked out over the vibrant grass towards the pine trees and the large barn. The sun was shining and the only clouds were far off into the distance.

“I watch Rugby”, he said as he turned to his right to face John. “Do you know the game?”

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“I’m not a sporting person”, John answered, unfazed by his admission. “Although, I did read about it briefly in the past few days. I believe it’s popular down your way.”

“Very much so.” Phil was serious and spoke deliberately. “There was a player, a truly great player who retired a few years ago. He played for the New Zealand All Blacks. Captained them for one hundred and ten games. Richie McCaw is his name. Now Rugby is quite a technical game, more than most. Opponents of Richie would claim his brilliance lay in his ability to flaunt the rules and get away with it. They would say referees were easy on him because of his standing in the game. There is little doubt in my mind that he was a genius at playing to the rules. He was a master at playing just a little beyond the rules, but not enough to be pinged every time. In fact, he was rewarded far more times than he was penalised. The writers of today look back and say the rules were tightened or even changed, in a vain attempt to nullify Richie. That’s how good he was. Doesn’t matter how one felt about that issue at the time, he really was a dream to watch. Most would forgive him for his cunning in playing beyond the edge of the rules.”

Phil slowly turned back to the railing, deep in thought, organising what he was about to say.

John waited.

Phil turned to John again. “Everyone has a little bit of Richie McCaw in them. Some have much more. Us humans compete in life and we take that competition up to the very edge of the rules. Some go beyond and get away with it, others don’t. There are always those who totally ignore the rules. That is the game us humans have been playing. We can’t stop competing so we make rules to compete within. We call them laws. All those declarations of human rights have been important in shaping our laws. Keeping all this in mind, I must say I’m ashamed to be a member of humanity when I am constantly being reminded of the disrespectful, harmful and often distasteful way we humans treat each other. Nearly always in pursuit of our next win. This is what I meant when I said governments have learnt from history and are one hundred percent in self‐preservation mode. They cannot abuse human rights because the referee will red card them, but they can play right to the edge of the rules. Are they playing in the spirit of the game? Yes, they are. No one said life was meant to be easy. The more important question is this. Are they, or should I say, ‘we’, playing to the true spirit of humanity?”

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John was gobsmacked.

Suddenly, one of John’s dogs could be heard barking as it exited the trees and was running a wide arc across the grass.

John looked over the railing towards the commotion. “Looks like Patsy’s on her way”, which Phil considered to be an understatement.

She bounded up the fifteen steps and set her sights on Phil. The steps were offset from the front of the house and the short expanse of exposed decking was coated with non‐slip paint. Patsy’s paws gripped well and she increased her speed. However, when she reached the bare timber deck, polished smooth from years of use, the small deviation to her left proved difficult. Her hind legs were the first to give way, her front paws a fraction of a second later. Phil, an animal lover, particularly dogs, was watching Patsy’s progress towards him. Patsy’s hind legs had overtaking her front paws, which were frantically trying to regain purchase. Phil could see the impending collision but he was mesmerised by Patsy’s acrobatics, and moved fractionally too late. She clipped his leg just as he tried to step from her path. Unbalanced, he was sent sprawling to the floor. The collision hardly slowed Patsy and she slammed into the wall of the house. Undeterred, by the near‐death experience, she scrambled to her feet, closed in on Phil as he was struggling to his knees. Phil could hear the slurping as she licked inside his ear. John, having watched frame by frame in slow motion, burst into laughter. He helped Phil, who was also laughing, back to his feet.

“She must have been down the other end of the property with the other dogs”, John said when his laughter had receded sufficiently for him to speak.

“Novel way to meet someone’s pet”, acknowledged Phil. “I guess there is a first time for everything.” He broke into laughter again and was immediately accompanied by John.

Phil and Patsy became acquainted over the next few minutes. “Beautiful, beautiful dog”, Phil told John as Patsy headed off in search of a new adventure.

John wanted to fetch lunch but had been thinking about Phil’s ‘need to compete’ in terms of people today. That was prior to the commotion of Patsy’s arrival. But it had endured the comedy of Patsy’s collision and Phil’s fall. No better time to ask than now, he thought. 19

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“Phil, you know I like to read history from time to time.” Phil nodded that he was aware of John’s interest. “Well, a question that sometimes comes to me has come back again. John paused for a moment, framing his question. “If we look through history, we see battles, wars, conflicts…, you know what I mean…, almost one after the other. Last century possibly had more than any other. Mostly territorial disputes. I can see how your idea of mankind needing to compete fits in with those. I can also see it with the first world war…, colonialism and power vacuum following the fall of the Ottoman Empire and so on. I’m not excluding religious wars here, or political and ideological struggles. I can see them the same way. They are humans competing as much as they do over territory. In fact, I understand it somewhat better if I was to take it to the extreme and imagine man pursuing ideologies just to have something to compete for.”

Phil was about to interrupt. “Hold tight for a minute, if you don’t mind, I just want to get this out before I confuse myself.” Phil relaxed again.

“I know man doesn’t do that and you probably have a very good explanation why he finds ideologies and religion important. But just for now, it helps me apply your ‘need to compete’ theory. Even the Second World War fits…, sort of. There was fascism, nationalism and the Nazi ideologies, territorial ambitions and of course, racism and genocide. But I’m not wanting to delve into all that, my question is more around the reason why we haven’t had another world war since then. It’s been nearly eighty years, which kind of breaks the pattern of the last century or two. Has mankind become less competitive? And if he has, does it not concern you that maybe mankind’s need to compete is diminishing and we are moving into a more enlightened phase?

Phil was feeling well pleased with John. His first thought was how much easier…, and rewarding it was to have a discussion with a learned person such as John. “Great question…, I mean really great question.” John’s face was a picture of satisfaction. “And I just want to apologise for attempting to interrupt.” John raised a hand as a thank you for the apology.

“You know, since WWII, your country has been in the thick of it. That war established America as an economic and military powerhouse. Over the course of the past eighty years your country has become the only super power. But not without cost. There has been conflict…, or war, one after another. Think Korea, Laos, Lebanon, Vietnam, Cambodia, Grenada, Panama, Iraq, Bosnia and Kosovo, 20

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Haiti and currently Yemen.” He paused momentarily. “Did I leave any out? … Syria. How did I forget that one? …And the Cold War, of course. These all show how mankind is competitive, but more than that, it shows how readily we turn to armed conflict to resolve issues. War remains the ultimate competition. It’s very much part of mankind’s competitive psyche and it is accepted by most people without question.”

“When you list them like that it does seem like we have been in a constant state of war.”

“But none have been large scale, as in a world war and none have been on your home turf. In terms of why hasn’t there been another world war. I don’t think I need to elaborate, but having fifteen thousand nuclear missiles pointing at anything worth destroying is a fairly big deterrent. I guess one could say it is the cornerstone for the apparent peace over the past eighty years. I say apparent because if mankind genuinely didn’t want to take to war and violence as a means of settling scores, then we would decommission the lot. Everyone would disagree with me saying man has a propensity to behave with violence to each other, we need to keep them. It all goes to prove my belief. Mankind knows he needs to compete and like a Pitbull terrier, he needs to be kept on a leash. The nuclear deterrent is his leash.”

John was both excited and shocked by Phil’s words. “You’re not holding back any.”

“Why make the abhorrent smell like roses?”, Phil quickly returned.

John agreed.

Phil hadn’t been surprised by John’s shock at his Pitbull comment. He had assumed it would be difficult for people living in America to have strong feelings about the nuclear issue. They had grown up believing the Soviets were the aggressors and the missiles were needed to keep them out. Phil considered all Americans under seventy years old would never have experienced life before Soviet ICBMs targeted them. Knowing their own ICBMs were in silos throughout their country probably provided a level of comfort. It definitely didn’t prompt them to ask why mankind required such deterrents.

Phil was happy he had managed to keep his passion in the lower range, so far. He remembered the other parts of John’s question. It was time to address them. 21

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“Is mankind becoming less competitive? Well, I don’t think so. There are other factors that mask man’s competitiveness to all but the keen observer. War has become damn expensive. America doesn’t have a bottomless pit of money, although…., many would disagree with that as well. America just keeps borrowing or printing money. Did you know, with all today’s technology and wages, it costs far more to send a person to war than it did in WWII. If WWII started tomorrow using today’s weapons and troops, it would cost nearly three times as much, in today’s money, as it did back in the 1940s. In the past ten years American defence spending has consumed more than forty percent of GDP. During WWII, it peaked at about the same. Keep in mind, that was a huge war compared to the small wars in the last decade. Back in WWII, America raised money patriotically through war bonds and taxes on the rich which reached as high as ninety‐four cents in the dollar at one stage. This wouldn’t happen today. …. Look at Vietnam and the protests. I think there were protests against the Gulf War as well. People don’t seem to be as patriotic today. Or it may just be they don’t like their taxes being spent in someone else’s backyard. Either way, try issuing war bonds or taxing the wealthy and see what sort of reaction you get. My point is this. It was hard enough to raise the money back then, when positive public sympathy and compliance was high. How hard would it be today? As it is, America has borrowed heaps of money from China to fund the war in Syria. How long can something like that keep going.”

John had kept an eye on that for a number of years. “I see it as borrowing now and asking American children to pay it back when they are older. Maybe even their children. I don’t know if that is how it will pan out, but it certainly doesn’t bode well for them.”

“I still haven’t answered your question.” Phil admitted. “I will now. Mankind needs to compete constantly, every day, possibly every hour. But wars are intermittent and don’t provide the continuous satisfaction he needs. Now it’s all about trade. The more influential countries today are those with the greatest economic power. Have the economy generate the money and the country can afford the military. The military then serves a number of functions. The traditional one is first and foremost, one would assume. But is it really? It is almost equalled, maybe even surpassed, by another. Most aspects of a country’s war machine have been repurposed towards trade. Have you heard the phrase ‘projection of power’?”

“Can’t say I have”, John replied.

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“That, along with trade, fulfils mankind’s need to compete. A country like America can project power militarily to every corner of the globe. This power has much to do with underwriting globalisation. The private sector can conduct business knowing their activities are underwritten by the government. The projection of power is not as simple as an American businessman turning up in Djibouti flanked by US Marines with a carrier anchored off the coast. It is much more complex than that and involves the perceived threat through a complex web of political channels. It is all very sophisticated and extremely effective. However, it only happens if the military is strong and prepared to get their hands dirty. Therein lies the perception of a threat. Why is projection of power important? Well, fifty years ago, economic power was intrinsically linked to that little label found on your products. It said, ‘Made in the U.S.A.’. In other words, everything was ‘in‐house’ and didn’t require other countries to be enthusiastic contributors. Resources to product under the one roof, so to speak. Globalisation has changed all that. American companies have products and components for products made all over the world, especially in South East Asia and Mexico. It is absolutely essential these supply lines operate without interruption. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter where anything is made, its where the profits ultimately sit that counts. Projection of power is essential to fully utilise wherever the cheapest labour can be found and to assist in opening new markets throughout the world. This has had the effect of shifting wealth up the chain quicker than at any other time in history. Which is why we see inequality growing.”

John wasn’t quite following Phil’s explanation. “How? How does it shift the wealth up the chain?

“Ok. I brushed over that a little quickly. The labour content of any product or service is where money goes to the ordinary people. … I really don’t like saying ‘ordinary’ in that way.” John shrugged to say it was acceptable enough to him. “Anyway, moving on. Shift that labour content offshore, where it is really low cost, and the profit increases. The shareholders, who are up the chain, receive that extra profit. This is what happened with American manufacturing. The loss of jobs when manufacturing moved offshore meant a slow destruction of middle America because they were no longer in the chain and no longer receiving their part of the money flow. Their share, went in part to overseas labour and in part to the wealthy shareholders.”

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John was happy. “I understand now.”

“Alright…, nearly done. My point is that globalisation and the growth of corporations has changed the world dramatically. Politics is influenced by multi‐ national corporations sometimes to the point where wars, minor or major, are discouraged by corporations with business activity in potentially affected regions. It’s all about profits being affected. The knock‐on effect of a war in areas where corporations operate would be reduced taxes to the government. Something every government is committed to avoiding This is the power of the interwoven global economy. Back in the eighteen‐century, if a king wanted to go to war, he would ask his commander if the swords were sharpened and the horses fed. Today, in America, there is a Senate for starters, and the United Nations, then there is a checklist a mile long before the funds are allocated for that first bullet to be fired. If too much third party stakeholder’s profit was to be jeopardised, that bullet would never be fired.”

John was processing Phil’s answer, but Phil had one more thing to say. “Please excuse my cynicism, but is it only me who sees the countries where America wages war as economically unimportant? Relatively speaking, that is.”

“That is indeed rather cynical”, John said with a chuckle. “But there might be some truth in that cynicism.”

Phil could see John wasn’t entirely satiated by what he had heard. He sensed he hadn’t satisfactorily answered John’s question. “But you can see how global trade and resources, not just the private sector, but the military, intelligence agencies and bureaucrats all combine to promulgate the projection of power? Trade is the all‐ consuming machine driving the world’s economy. It is extremely competitive at all levels from those collecting the resources from mother earth, those involved in transportation whether physical or electronically, those processing resources, manufacturers and those providing the abundance of varied services to industries of all types. It goes on and on. There are distributers and sellers. The financial sector, financiers and speculators, who I see as gamblers I might add. Then there are the consumers, who also compete in interesting ways, such as competing for status as represented by what they own. All this, along with the projection of power industry, provides mankind with endless opportunity to satisfy their need to compete?”

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“Definitely. I could see it as you were saying it. I had thought about some of it over the years, but I hadn’t covered all of it and definitely hadn’t begun to put it together in they way you just explained. Now that I think about, I can see how the need for the ultimate competition of war, has all but been replaced. Maybe you’re right and mankind has become more competitive.”

Phil had deliberately kept his description of the need to compete at the macro level, the world level. In the past, he had brought the focus down to the individual, which had inflamed some in his audiences. He had quickly discovered those who were overtly competitive and possibly prone to greed, would relate his generic descriptions of individuals to themselves. That had rarely ended well. Those same people remained calm if he created more distance by referring to the people in his stories as ‘them’ and ‘they’. He would be careful not to give ‘them’ an identity, deliberately keeping them nebulous as the faceless others, the Constitutive Other, with whom his audience would feel no connection. He was well aware John was a wealthy man and his wealth was generated in real estate. So far, he had managed to avoid any introspection by John, but Phil had to take him there eventually. He hoped he picked the right moment.

Phil had one last comment for John, something to help him cling to his tenuous belief mankind was finding his way out of the hole. “In war there is a winner and a loser. I tend to believe there are no winners in war, but let’s go along with the winner and loser scenario. In global trade and projection of power there are mostly winners. Not everyone is happy all the time, but at least we are unlikely to see the same casualties we do during wartime. Maybe that is the enlightenment you were looking for.”

“Quite possibly”, John said as he rose uneasily to his feet. He had been sitting for quite a while and needed a stretch. “This could be a good time to break for lunch.”

“I second that. I haven’t eaten since early this morning.” Phil was absolutely famished. In truth, he hadn’t eaten at all since the evening meal the day before, but he wasn’t going to tell John as much. He stood holding his ample abdomen. “I think I’m fading away”, he said, tongue in cheek.

John scrutinised the abdomen projected his way. “Maybe we could walk up the mountain behind the house after lunch”, he said teasingly. Phil laughed politely, but

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Chapter 1 The Porch in reality, he wished he could. He was far from his peak level of fitness of a few years earlier.

John disappeared into the house leaving Phil to take in his surroundings. He took a stroll along the decking, clearing his head as he did. He took in John’s house for the first time since his arrival. It was an old house, possibly Victorian, he thought. It appeared to him that the rear double story section of the house was the original old house and the large single‐story section at the front was a later addition, but not much later. The ‘porch’, as he believed Americans called what in Australia would be referred to as ‘the deck’, or veranda, extended along every side of the house he could see. It was of ample width as well. Having come from subtropical Queensland, Phil loved open breezy deck areas. He noticed the white clapboard cladding of the house was possibly only a year or two off repainting. He went over to one of the windows and ran his hand along the beautifully crafted timber frame. “They don’t make them like that anymore”, he said quietly to himself. He looked back at where he had been sitting. It was at one of the corners of the porch, but it wasn’t a corner at all. The deck, balustrade and roof all formed a semicircle, protruding beyond where a squared corner would normally be. It made for a great little entertaining area. He imagined it would add character, make the house more picturesque when viewed from beneath the trees beyond the grass.

Phil finished his exploration and returned to the railing adjacent to his chair to wait for John. Staring into the tall pines on the other side of the grass, he was curious as to what lay beyond. He followed the line of trees to the large barn. It was old, but appeared more pristine than the house, but it was difficult to be sure without his other glasses. His eyes pulled back to the shrubs beyond the steps he had climbed with John, after they met for the first time. Nestled amongst the shrubs were two rainwater tanks. To their left was the rock‐strewn slope of a ridge. The house had been built close to the ridge, which became steeper as it neared the house. He liked the setting. There was a different view wherever his eyes took him. He felt the peaceful charm exuding from the house with its overflowing porch and matching balustrade and frieze. Set against those beautiful tall trees he started to feel he was actually in a forest.

John returned carrying a tray of subs filled with pulled pork, apple sauce and sauerkraut. Phil’s hunger suddenly ramped up to audible as his juices began to flow in readiness.

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He waited for John to give approval before helping himself to a sub. No more urging was required. It may have been his hunger influencing his taste buds, but his first bite told him it was the most superb sub he had tasted since arriving in America. Probably the best ever. He was halfway through his sub but was having difficulty chewing. He had been over‐ambitious with his last bite. Another smaller mouthful finished and he felt compelled to share his pleasures.

“These are the just the best subs. I know a few blokes back home who would trade anything for one of these. Fair dinkum mate, they are superb. That pork…, wow…, the flavour. Simply incredible.” He wiped sauerkraut from the corners of his mouth and washed it down with some strange soda drink. He looked at the label of the drink, ‘Boylan’s Original Birch Beer’.

“That’s one of our finest brews in these parts”, said John enthused by Phil’s obvious delight. “I reserve it for special guests only, particularly those from Australia.” A spirit of friendly mirth in his words.

“Not bad”, replied Phil taking a second mouthful of the soda, “It certainly does the job.” He took another swig. “Not a bad drop at all, if I must say so myself.”

John was beaming. It was pleasurable to watch Phil putting in his best effort to demonstrate manners whilst eating his upscaled sub. He rejoiced in watching the soda catch him by surprise. He had been sure Phil had never tasted it before and had expected it to be contrary to his Australian palate. John did have fun watching his visitors. This visitor was proving to be the pinnacle of his enjoyment.

Conscious of his less than pristine eating habits, Phil had another little story he wanted to share. “You know manners are really a projection of power?”

“Is this a lunchtime joke?” John asked with a laugh, genuinely expecting it to be so. Phil, struggling to talk again after another mouthful, shakes his head, bringing yet more laughter from John. “I guess not”, he said, “Please go on…, when you’re ready to speak.”

Phil finished his pork sub, mopped his face and drank some more of the birch beer, wincing as he did.

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“Manners originated amongst the landed gentry or hereditary upper‐class in Britain and were used to differentiate themselves from the workers. Did you ever watch those English shows ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ or ‘Downton Abbey’? asked Phil.

“I have indeed, old boy”

“Then you know what I am talking about. If anyone from ‘downstairs’ put on the airs and graces of those ‘upstairs’ they were ridiculed and brought back to earth by their peers. It was a self‐administered convention. There was no need for it to be policed. The hereditary class used manners to announce they were of the upper‐ class and as such were projecting power over all those who were not the same. They were essentially demanding privilege simply by how they held themselves.”

“It appears bizarre when you explain it like that. In fact, it sounds completely infantile, like a child looking for attention.”

Phil was pleased John made that comment. That was all the encouragement he required to carry on with one of his pet topics. “It may have been infantile, but keep in mind, they owned the land, they had the power to make or break a worker. They could appear as infantile as they liked but it was all very serious stuff.”, Phil looked at the pork subs on the tray and contemplated another. “I have on occasions experienced people using manners to differentiate themselves as better than me. Males use it as a subtle but powerful message of who is the dominate male. I once read an article by a well‐respected commentator of geopolitics who pointed to the use of manners for this purpose during high level meetings between countries. He used the word ‘weaponised’ to describe how manners were being used to alienate a despised guest or to show who was the alpha male in the relationship.

John was shaking his head, a quizzical look on his face, “I trust what you say is true, but manners are not a real concern when living by myself. I can picture manners being weaponised, as your commentator said. It wouldn’t be hard to show‐up our current President, even if it was the most medieval of medieval feasts…, if you catch my drift.”

“I do, I’ve seen enough of him on YouTube to know what he’s like. Anyway, just thought I would let you know the real purpose of manners. Competition is in everything us humans do.”

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John was a little fatigued and needed a long drink of his birch beer. It had been quite some time since he had interacted with a guest as much as he had with Phil. John had quickly relaxed with Phil and was slowly coming to like this nuggety little Australian. Phil was patient and generous and hardly sensationalised his delivery like his American guests. He thought about that and realised Phil had almost naively delivered some very powerful statements. Why was that, he wondered. Phil was honest, maybe even painfully so. He was deliberate to the point of being agonisingly slow in developing his answers. Was that why Phil’s words were making such an impact? John was still waiting for Phil to coerce him into agreement on something…, anything. He had fun watching his other guests coaxing and manipulating him into a corner and when they thought they had him, he would extricate himself like a seasoned pro. Phil on the other hand, would deliver argument after argument until he could see he was being understood. That was all Phil appeared to want. Just to be heard and understood. Agreement was inconsequential. John had become even more curious of just what Phil’s big artificial intelligence idea was. It must be really something to have motivated him to travel half way across the planet. Phil needed a hurry‐up, but John was reluctant, even though his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. A little shove couldn’t hurt, he thought.

“Phil, at the risk of unsettling our friendship, I need to ask. Are we moving closer to hearing your big idea?”

Phil considered John’s request. John was proving to be a good listener who didn’t react like many of those he had spoken to in Australia. But he still wasn’t sure if John was the right person. Maybe John was just honouring their earlier agreement and wasn’t really as interested as he appeared to be. He had to take John at least as far as exposing him to the truth about humanity’s need to compete. There remained the vital explanation as to why self‐worth was important to humans. That was where it could all fall apart. If John showed signs of assimilating those fundamentals then there was hope he wouldn’t dismiss his idea. Both he and John needed more time.

“How much time do we have? Phil asked.

John was happy to relent. “Take as long as you like”. He knew he was incrementally succumbing to Phil’s very peculiar charm. He didn’t mind, it felt good. “I apologise for my impertinence when the day is still so young. Why don’t we have another sub.

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Chapter 1 The Porch

I must take advantage of having guests more often because these subs are not every day fare around here.”

The earlier frenzied eating was absent but the serious intent on their faces confirmed how daunting a proposition the subs really were. Patsy had returned when John first brought lunch out, but had given up hope and was laying a short distance away, where the sun was streaming onto the porch. Sensing a second chance for a morsel, she was up on all fours playing up to John. Phil stood up after selecting his pork sub and walked to the other end of the porch. When he returned John was feeding the last of his sub to Patsy whilst playing with her floppy ears. Flipping them back and forth, first in unison then one at a time.

“Have you worked it all out?”, asked John.

“I think so. It’s an interesting house”, replied Phil.

“I like it. Not that I have done anything to it. My mother did some decorating many years ago. I’ll show you through a little later.”

“I’ll enjoy that”, Phil said politely, tempering his enthusiasm.

John felt the urge to listen to more of Phil’s stories. “Until then, let’s continue.”

Phil wasn’t sure where he was up to. He remembered John’s last hint at wanting to know his idea, so he thought he would draw John a bit of a roadmap of his intentions. Just to give himself a chance to build his story.

“John I just want to resume by explaining where I’m heading. I’m not here to convince you to agree with my view of humanity. None of this is about converting any beliefs you may have. I don’t subscribe to any ideology, so I have no memberships to sell. What I am hoping to do is to take you on a journey, help you see what I see and experience what I feel. If I succeed in doing this and only if I succeed, will you be in a position to appreciate why I consider my idea is not just important but essential for humanity’s survival.”

Looking into John’s eyes, Phil could see a softening, a warmth that was encouraging him to continue.

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Chapter 1 The Porch

“Before we can reach the end, I need to take you through my understanding of the drivers within humans, drivers that separate us from other higher animal species by influencing our desires, wants, aims, goals and so on. The diversity in humanity throughout the world is amazing, but if we look closely at people, we see they think and do pretty much the same no matter what language they speak or where in the world they live. I deduce there must be fundamental commonality between humans and they are derived from our core drivers.”

“You mentioned drivers earlier and it seemed important to you then. I’ve been waiting for you to talk about them.”

Phil had hoped to have explored the human drivers in more detail by now, but he had departed from his script after the first ten minutes. “What if the fundamental drivers common to almost every person no matter colour, creed or culture are actually the wrong drivers? It may sound like a convenient truth, but it would explain the divisive behaviour of us humans. Wrong drivers and we are always battling against the wrong behaviour they cause. This is what I want to explore with you. I had to introduce you to the need to compete, because that is directly attributable to those human drivers that I consider incorrect. My experiences tell me this one truth. If being competitive was absolutely and one hundred percent hunky dory, then why do so many people repudiate any accusation of being competitive? Why are they openly competitive yet hate being told they are? You would think they would clamber over each other to receive the accolades of being the most competitive.”

John experienced a moment of clarity in response to Phil’s words. “I didn’t look it that way…, but it makes sense.”

“Too right it does”, said Phil emphatically. He then lowered his voice. “There are other drivers within us all, but between them is an unceasing fight for supremacy. It really does take time to see anything close to the breadth and depth of all this. Just saying it like I am now is to seriously deprecate the immense significance of the conflict occurring within our psyche. This dissonance and its fallout are responsible for mankind’s inconsistent behaviour. Unless the conflict is resolved, mankind will fall deeper and deeper into the hole he is in.” Phil, having remained standing after his second pork sub, was now on his haunches only a foot or two from where John was seated. His passion was measured and his voice firm but quieter than before. He wasn’t intentionally attempting to impress John at all. He was looking up at him, 31

Chapter 1 The Porch his eyes fixed on John’s eyes and he was speaking from his heart. Humanity was in strife and needed help.

John was moved by Phil’s plea on behalf of all mankind. He had no control over what he said next. He just had to say it, he couldn’t hold back, “Phil, you are either a complete crackpot or the deepest, caring thinker I have ever met.”

Phil had been about to continue but John’s statement stopped him in his tracks. His mouth remained open as he was still trying to speak, but no sound was forthcoming. He managed to close his mouth and breathed in slowly through his nostrils until he was ready to talk. “If it helps, I have asked myself if I am a crackpot, more times than any person should ever need to. You will also learn there are very few people in the world who could give me a truthful assessment on whether I am a crackpot or not. Why don’t we stick with the ‘deep thinker’ option for the time being?”

They both shared a laugh together, maybe their first as true friends.

John stood up, extended his hand towards Phil and raised him to his feet.

Phil was again looking upwards at John, more than he had been a few seconds earlier. “Let me ask you this”, Phil said gently. “Do you think people are predisposed to take from each other or to give to each other?”

John was about to give his answer, but stopped. It wasn’t that he suspected it was a trick question, it was something else. He found himself questioning the answer he would have instinctively given. Was his answer changing because of their discussion over the past few hours? Was he beginning to see the world differently?

“I need more time on that one Phil, if that’s good for you?” He looked out at the trees and the cloudless sky. “Why don’t we take a walk, I have something to show you?”

Phil smiled to himself. He could read John’s reaction to his question and began to feel elated. He even allowed himself to think for a fleeting second, “John could be the one”.

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Chapter 2 John

It was a beautiful late August day at John’s house in Upstate New York, There was a gentle breeze stirring the needles of the many white pines and the broad leaves of the occasional maple and birch trees. John’s house, a four‐hour drive north of New York City was 122 acres of mostly forest, wedged in by a lake and a designated Wilderness Area. Phil had arrived at a quarter after eleven in the morning and now it was approaching two in the afternoon. His luggage was still on the porch to the right of the front door Patsy only just missed slamming into. Both men had forgotten it was there. The pork and sauerkraut subs were gone, Patsy’s patience having paid off with the last half of John’ roll surviving a mere five seconds after reaching her open mouth. Phil was still tasting the pork subs in his mind. He wondered how John knew pulled pork was right up there on his list of favourites.

John’s bottom had become sore from sitting for so long, which is what prompted him to suggest a walk. The iced tea and birch beers had run dry, but he was happy with his improved hosting status which until today had stalled at cookies, homemade of course, along with tea and a pitcher of iced water. Sometimes he was extravagant and added a squeeze of lemon. He blamed his lack of adventure in the refreshment offerings on his network in the City. His enthusiasm stymied by the forewarned intentions of most of his visitors. But Phil’s visit was altogether different. For starters he came from Australia. Sure, he wanted something, but John had sensed Phil had something quite special to offer in return.

Whilst waiting for Phil to rummage through his luggage, John was thinking about the many things Phil had spoken about and he was contemplating an answer to the last question. He liked playing the Devil’s Advocate role, which he contemplated pursuing when Phil had begun. But as their conversation evolved, he cared less for his usual game and had found himself wanting to assist Phil through his difficulties and contribute more effectively. This is why he found himself standing at the foot of the steps, taking advantage of the time he was being afforded to think about that last question. This was new territory for him. He was well accustomed to questions like ‘Is this the sort of product you want to invest in?’ or ‘How much do you think you would make in the second year?’. But none of the many books he had read over the years had been as explicit about fundamental human drivers as Phil had been. In fact, he was not too sure he had read about such a thing at all. His memory travelled back to a book he studied with his mother. It was Lord of the Flies. He had

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Chapter 2 John revisited that book many years later and had remembered then his mother telling him how humans behaved instinctively like savage hunters when society’s restraints were gone. That didn’t seem to gel with Phil’s beliefs, he thought.

He was concerned Phil may be a little touched by a social phobia of sorts and questioned whether he should be taking him seriously. Parts of their conversation reminded him of those he had found impossible to escape, when Jehovah's Witnesses came knocking at his door. That was some years ago and he had only engaged them in conversation because he believed they wouldn’t leave without his commitment to sign‐up. John amused himself with the thought of Phil setting up camp at the front of his house, knocking on his door each morning to use his bathroom and refusing to leave until he agreed to pursue his big idea.

John’s thoughts moved elsewhere. He considered nearly every second American was prepared to express concerns a major apocalyptic disaster will happen. But he believed most people passionate about doomsday and humanity’s decline were a little crazy. Could Phil be crazy enough to come all the way from Australia to talk to him about such stuff? After some deliberation, John decided not. Still, he hadn’t heard talk about human drivers before, at least not in that way. There was a truth somewhere in what Phil was saying, he felt certain of that. He was appreciating their discussions. They were very different to those he had endured from the fast‐ talking salesmen. He resolved to play along because he was learning new stuff and he felt it might kick‐off even more. He had a thirst for adventure and he sensed there could be a healthy dose afoot.

John, with Patsy nearby, walked further onto grass as he waited. Phil found what he was looking for in his luggage and joined John on the grass at the front of his house. He stopped next to John and bent down to touch the grass, thinking how the silliest of things became interesting when in a country far from home. He had grown up with tough tropical lawns, but this one was soft and without the spattering of browned leaf found in his Queensland lawns, it was a brilliant verdant green. He thought it must be a fescue of some type. He complimented John on the lawn, saying how soft it felt. John stopped, surveyed the lawn and reached down to do as Phil had done and feel the slender leaves slide through his fingers. He couldn’t remember paying attention to the lawn like that before. It had been almost a year since he had last mown a lawn. They spent a few minutes talking about their shared love of all things green and being outdoors. They were both gardeners in their own

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Chapter 2 John way and both enjoyed whiling away the time trimming shrubs and studying the unique structures found within flowers. They compared the winters and summers of their respective homelands, discussing the difficulties that came with each and how they made the most of each season. They listened to each other talk about the soils and the additives required, choice of fertilisers and how the lawns responded.

The sharing of interests generated genuine excitement within both men. It also gave Phil a chance to study the house from a distance, noting how it was designed to fit the landscape in contrast to the extensive earthworks he so often observed back home and on the many design shows he watched when he wanted to chill out. Whoever built John’s house used the contours and weren’t hellbent on bending nature to conform to their desires. He imagined when John’s house was being built, the green grass would have still been growing amongst the pillars as the floorboards were being nailed. How times have changed, he thought.

John had joined Phil in his gaze back at his house, wondering what it was that interested him. “What do you think of my little house in the woods?”, he asked.

“I do like it. I am just thinking of you, the young boy running around that almost endless porch. I do like the way the house sits into that higher ground.”

John had always liked that aspect as well. “Did you notice how the ridge comes close to the house on the far side?”

“I did. I also see there is a walkway from the upper floor across to the ridge. That would’ve been fun as well. A kind of big adventure loop taking in the porch, inside and up the stairs, then across the bridge to run down the slope over there”, he said pointing, “and up those steps to the porch again.”

“You got it in one. Chased by Callie back then. That funny shaped window up there was my bedroom as a boy”, he said, pointing to an almost elliptical‐shaped first‐ floor window. “I would wake early and slip out my own door to the woods without disturbing my mother with the creaky wooden stairs near her bedroom. See how the ridge arcs away from the house”, he said, tracing its path through the air with his hand, “you can just follow it before it disappears behind the trees. Up there are some of my favourite places. My property boundary runs alongside the other side of that ridge, in the gully between the ridge and the foot of those mountains. That’s

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Chapter 2 John all Wilderness Area up there. Starts just the other side of the ridge. The higher areas are covered in snow for most of the winter. I can show you tomorrow.”

There were some outbuildings on the higher ground of the ridge, a small one close to the house and another, partially occluded by a tree, but it was larger and by Phil’s reckoning, looked more like a barn. Phil was a bit of an explorer and was curious about what was hiding inside the two buildings. His eyes returned to the round section of the porch where they had been sitting. Phil thought it looked like a Queen Anne tower had been built on that corner of the house, but the walls had been removed to make a continuous porch. Probably not, he concluded after a bit more thought. He pictured a flagpole next to the porch, with the Stars and Stripes wandering in the wind, thinking it wouldn’t be the perfect place.

They strolled across the grass towards the trees, but Phil kept looking over his left shoulder at the large barn. It was a few hundred feet from the house. The end entered Phil’s vision as they neared the trees. He could see it was a very large barn indeed. John stopped and pointed out the ‘northern’ boundary of his property. It was on the other side of the barn, heading southeast. He built a map on the ground with twigs to show how his property was narrow where they were standing, but stretched for nearly a mile towards the southeast, becoming wider all the time until it reached Billy’s Creek coming down from the mountains. Phil visualised John’s property as a distorted rectangle, the sides squeezed together at the end with the house and pulled apart at it approached the creek. With a short stick, John pointed to the north eastern corner of his twig map, away from the mountains and next to the creek. “You will enjoy seeing what’s down here”, he said with boyish enthusiasm.

They left the twig map and entered the trees. The swoosh of the soft grass gave way to the crunch of twigs and pine needles under foot. Phil estimated it was about eighty steps into the trees before he could see the blue of the lake beyond. Phil was like that, always measuring and estimating. He once wished his cell phone had a laser tape measure built in. Soon they were in the sunshine again and onto a grassed area sloping down to the lake. John slowed up to allow Phil to absorb the idyllic setting which lay before him. This is what he wanted to show him. A wooden walkway extended from halfway up the sloping lakeshore down to the dock. Sitting comfortably on the dock was a simple but elegant little wooden boathouse designed to partner the main house which had gradually disappeared behind the

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Chapter 2 John trees. Phil wondered about the age of the trees and if there was a time when the lake could be viewed from the house. The boathouse was an unpretentious structure sitting peacefully on the wide dock. The pitched shingle roof extended beyond the clapboard clad structure and its wooden framed windows, out over the crib where an old but entirely serviceable runabout was moored. There was a single wooden door meeting the walkway and as Phil would see later, double wooden doors faced the lake. They opened out onto the deck where Adirondack chairs sat idly, awaiting Phil and John to sit and watch the birds play above the water. Phil suspected the dock and boathouse were not from the same period as the main house, but much later. He wondered if John had it built.

Before heading down to the dock, John invited Phil to sit at the wooden table on the grassy levelled area catching the shade of the trees. He thought it a good place to appease Phil’s curiosity about his family history. How he came to live in the woods was an interesting story which he had told many times without tiring. A few had said it would make a good book, others a documentary. He thought it may happen one day. He always found new joy with every telling of his story.

Patsy returned from the dock where she had been waiting for John to appear. She lay down on the grass near the two men, looking for all the world that she had heard the story before. She closed her eyes and let her body sink into the grass as John began.

John’s full name was John Lars Groot. He was the grandson of a Dutch immigrant, Lars de Groot who escaped the rumblings of discontent gripping Europe, arriving in New York in 1936. Back in the Netherlands, as a boy becoming a young man, Lars had worked odd labouring jobs. One of those jobs was the construction of the Afsluitdijk, which John explained with some pride, was the building of the walls to hold out the North Sea. Upon arrival in New York, Lars joined the ranks of labourers desperate for work prior to the outbreak of World War II. During the war he made a decent enough living collecting scrap metal and labouring. He married, had three children and lived in rented tenement housing on the Lower East side of Manhattan. The metal recycling business, which commenced as scrap collection during World War II, prospered in the years following the end of the war allowing him to buy the tenement apartment he had rented for nearly a decade. He worked hard and gradually bought other apartments in the building until he owned the entire

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Chapter 2 John building. His youngest son, Daan started in his father's business in 1957 at the age of 15.

Life was tough in the neighbourhood and Daan had little choice but to grow up quickly. He proved to be astute at business. At the age of 17 Daan purchased his first property in the same street as the family home. Property prices on the Lower East Side were amongst the lowest for Manhattan. Daan was ambitious and believed the Lower East Side would eventually rise in value as they had in other parts of New York. Over the remainder of his life he progressed from purchasing apartments to tenement buildings, becoming the single largest landlord in the Lower East Side. He changed his name to David Groot and married a young Latvian girl whose mother, pregnant at the time, had emigrated from a displaced person camp in West Germany three years after the end of World War II. David’s wife never knew her father but her mother had spoken of an Irishman, a member of the allied forces operating the camp. David’s daughter Maria, was born in 1969 and then his son John, in 1972. David proved to be a landlord prone to harsh treatment of tenants. He had helped his father grow the scrap metal business into a significant family company but shortly after the death of his father Lars, in 1975, he sold the business for a substantial sum. He had re‐invested the money in yet more buildings in and around the Lower East Side. David had also inherited this 122‐acre property in Upstate New York that Lars had bought from a business colleague ten years earlier for $105,000, just prior to foreclosure.

The sixties hadn’t been good for David. The Lower East Side went into decline. This was a long and harsh downturn that continued through to the eighties. David’s marriage had become difficult. In the mid‐seventies, both David and his wife did their best for about a year to keep the marriage alive, solely for the benefit of Maria and John. David had become increasingly aware his ambition was driving him to take desperate measures to keep his tenement empire growing, earning him the status as one of the most feared landlords in the neighbourhood. A reputation he earned through spilt blood. With a keen eye for new business opportunities and a changing demographics in his favoured Lower East Side, David had supplemented the property decline by supplying the steadily growing demand for heroin. John’s mother had told him years later how his father had been a prominent Manhattan drug figure for a number of years, one of a select few who had managed to escape the scrutiny of the authorities.

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Chapter 2 John

David’s demeanour had changed for the worse as his business activities became increasingly sordid. His marriage failed, but he knew he would always love the woman he met at B & H, his favourite little diner, only a decade or so earlier. David had surprised John’s mother, and didn’t blame her for the wreck their marriage had become. John’s mother had said she watched as his father’s disdain for the man he had become steadily grew. He knew he was loathed by most and believed it wasn’t any different for those he loved. He was aware how extricating himself from the disreputable business would not remove his greed or his need to control. He had told John’s mother he was incapable of saving their marriage. He confessed to loving his children more than anything and his only remaining choice was to protect them from himself.

The loss of his own childhood to his father’s business had always weighed heavily on him. He was proud of where he had come from and what he had made of himself but the guilt of all those people left maimed or destitute by his actions or addicted and dead from his drugs, was a burden he would never wish upon his son. David had promised himself he would be different to his children and not be as his father had been to him and his two younger sisters. The elder of his two sisters had been accidentally killed in 1958 when David was just sixteen. She was girlfriend to a member of a branch of the Sportsmen gang, called the ‘Top Hatters’. Their turf was in the Lower East Side. One night, following an argument with their father Lars, she had run out to accompany her boyfriend to a gang rumble. She was watching from the sidelines when a gun was fired a number of times, sending a stray bullet her way, passing through her neck.

Keeping his children away from his work and the life it involved was a goal David had given himself soon after Maria was born, his conviction further strengthened when John was born. In his desperation to keep his children out of the life he had become trapped within, he convinced his wife to take the children to the Upstate house and to give them the life he had always envisaged.

John Groot was seven when he moved to the house in the woods. He loved his mother and was naturally inquisitive so he enjoyed learning. It was some distance to the nearest school so Maria and John were home schooled by their mother. John was happy because he loved his mother more than anything. He did miss his father but rarely found himself longing for his company. Before moving out of the city, John remembered his father was forever doing business, mostly elsewhere, but

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Chapter 2 John when at home the substantial office door did little to isolate the family from an almost endless vitriol of words that John was made to promise he would never repeat. He remembered the sounds of the heated arguments, demands and orders, barked and growled to those unfortunate enough to be at the other end of the telephone. He didn’t miss the City at all. He really enjoyed the seclusion and beauty of the trees, the ever‐changing lake and the excitement provided by the house. He had only ever visited the house in the woods during summers, before moving there permanently. During the first year of living in his ‘Eden’, John had spoken with his father twice, by telephone only. Nearly two years after leaving the city, his father came to visit, accompanied by a large box which his father had called a computer. John was going on nine years old at the time and had found the computer bewildering but fascinating as well. He had been intrigued by the changes on the screen when he pressed the different keys.

A month or two passed before he worked out one or two rudimentary uses for his father’s strange machine. During the following eighteen months he gradually became proficient in writing simple programs. Years later he discovered his father. Along with one of his metal recycling colleagues from the past, started a business making computer chassis and other metal parts for computers. By the late 1980s this small “garage” business had grown into a substantial company dedicated to building and supplying computers. By the time John was seventeen he had lost count of the number of large boxes his father’s company had sent, but he did remember in his mid‐twenties he had enlisted a man to fill his truck with all the old computers stored in the barn. In 1989 David Groot sold his majority shareholding of the computer company to a newly found competitor, a young man in Austin, Texas. He had made a small fortune from the sale.

John’s education did not extend beyond home schooling. His mother was more than happy to have his companionship during the long days, especially when the freezing months of winter arrived. John also showed a remarkable desire to learn and read without structured tuition. He devoured books, always wanting to understand more, and displayed a keen interest in all things mathematical. Beyond his junior school years, a retired teacher would come to their home for two days a week, staying overnight whilst his mother visited family in New York. Maria had longed for her father and life in the city, returning for her last two senior years to attain her college acceptance. Maria’s aunty, David Groot’s remaining sister had taken her in, becoming her second mother. Maria still considered the house in the woods her

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Chapter 2 John home, spending most weekends there with her mother and John prior to starting college.

Late in 1990, David Groot was killed by a man whose father had disappeared in the seventies. The father had been one of David’s tenants but more importantly, he had also been a partner in David’s drug business. One line of thought was David Groot had ignored the man’s blackmail threat, a decision that ultimately proved to be his last. John was eighteen when his father died and inherited the bulk of his father's estate, covering real estate throughout the Lower East Side and elsewhere, shareholdings in small businesses and extensive stock holdings. Even to this day it irks him that he had become the owner of the proceeds of heroin, but he had no way to determine exactly where the drug money had been invested. His father had adamantly kept his mother away from all of his business activities but not long before she died, John’s mother had told him as much as she knew or could remember. She knew his father had been important in the heroin trade for at least three years but believed the heroin money was used for day to day living. Much of the bricks and mortar portion of his father’s estate had been passed down from his grandfather, Lars de Groot or accumulated before the trafficking started. Apart from two notable properties in the Upper West Side, most of the properties and business interests were located in the East Village area and their old neighbourhood of the Lower East Side, where John was born.

In the two years following David’s death, John and his mother liquidated problem investments, reinvested in stocks, established a property development business, and enlisted the expertise of an investment company to manage the sizeable stockholdings. John learnt a great deal about business from his mother, until she died fifteen years after his father. With the advent of the internet at about the time of his father’s demise, John and his mother were able oversee most of the business from the house in the woods. Through the decade of the nineties and the first decade of the new millennium, the Lower East Side gentrified and property prices increased dramatically, too late for his father to realise his dream. John’s personal wealth escalated during this time, doubling within the first five years then trebling and more than quadrupling his worth of 1991. John’s property development company was responsible for much of the redevelopment of older buildings in the once immigrant, then artisan area of the city. In the latter half of the nineties, his company had begun to construct new six to ten storey buildings in the Lower East Side and the now separated East Village area. Selling some of the apartments,

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Chapter 2 John adding the remainder to its sizeable stock of rental properties. John had little interest in wealth, leaving that to the well‐paid managers employed in his company. He preferred to remain at his house in the woods and work with his computers.

Most of John’s twenties and thirties were spent in semi‐seclusion on the property where he had grown up. His mother lived with him for most of his twenties but was increasingly required in the City. She met her new husband near the end of the 1990s and moved to the City permanently, returning to her son and the house in the woods regularly. His mother would say it was her spiritual home and always told John she couldn’t endure long periods without being with him and the home she missed every day. Sometimes his mother was accompanied by her husband, a professor in politics and economics at Columbia until her death in 2006 from breast cancer.

With the loss of his mother John suffered grief terribly for a few years. He spent days and nights reading hundreds of books or trekking the adjoining wilderness area. Sometimes he spent nights in the forest, accompanied only by his pet Labrador. He also became intrigued by artificial intelligence at a time when many researchers were losing interest. John still had a good number of friends from his childhood, a legacy of the effort his mother had made to ensure John wouldn’t be the loner she believed he would become. He was always amenable to friends visiting, but only occasionally, bordering on rarely, would he visit them. Whilst his mother was alive, there were summer parties at the house or by the lake and had enjoyed the gaiety and laughter. He spent his days writing computer applications and later, apps for cell phones, then smartphones. He gave many away as educational applications; others became popular but he never pursued commercialising them. If they had been, he would have been wealthy from these alone, but the commercial side wasn’t of interest, writing software was his hobby, just as it was spending his nights reading and watching science fiction on the television. In the late 2000s his interest in artificial intelligence deepened.

John told all this to Phil with only the occasional question from Phil. When John had covered the more historical aspect of his story, he continued on to give Phil some further insight into his life in more recent times.

“Fourteen months ago, I met two boys in their twenties who were also interested in AI and invited them here for a week. They are still with me. The computers were in various rooms of the house when they first arrived, so the boys convinced me on 42

Chapter 2 John only their second day to convert one of the unused barns, the biggest one you saw opposite the house. We turned it into a workshop for AI and robotics. I thought it a great idea and have found the two boys to be great friends and colleagues in the work we do together. I look at the old house and I know it could benefit from modernising but I like the memories and besides, what need do I have for a grand house. After all, I am the only person in the house for nearly three hundred and fifty nights of the year. The other fifteen to twenty nights I am in the City. I care little for material possessions, glamour houses and as you may have already gathered, I am not a man who feels an image is necessary. But I have been thinking lately about the parties we once had. I might start having the odd bash again. Maybe an end of summer shindig.”

“Great venue for one”, encouraged Phil

John described other aspects of the property to complete the picture for Phil. There were a number of buildings to be found in various parts of the property, all built before Lars bought the property. Heading away from the house in almost the opposite direction they had walked was an old log cabin of sorts, deep in the forest, rundown and overgrown. He had considered revamping it into a wilderness cabin for friends to use but he never became serious about it. He said, “I got close to starting one day, then realised I didn’t have any friends to come and use it”. There was more he could tell Phil but he thought he would leave the rest for the following day.

John was enjoying spending time with Phil. He was finding it far more pleasurable than the time he spent with many of his other visitors. On those occasions he responded to requests by visitor from the City to tell them where he came from or who his parents were, they would hurry him through his story or focus only on the wealth aspects. Then there were those who would interject when he paused for breath, taking the opportunity to tell their own family history, ensuring it was better than his in some way or other. Phil had asked him only a handful of questions, ones indicating a genuine interest and never once tried to talk about himself.

John had come to Phil’s attention due to his expertise in artificial intelligence. Once John had become the focus of his interests, Phil had spent days or even weeks searching every corner of the internet for anything about John Groot. All he found was his webpage, which was brief but he had read it far too many times to remember. It was nothing more than a collection of thoughts, mostly regarding 43

Chapter 2 John aspects of research into artificial intelligence and machine learning that had taken place in the wider industry over the past forty years. There were the linked YouTube videos where John talked about his concerns for mankind with the progress of artificial intelligence and the panel discussions which he had participated in but revealed little about who John was. He had no apparent affiliations to government or any corporation. It seemed like he was a lone developer of AI. He had found a couple of articles in the property section of a New York on‐line newspaper describing his vast wealth, particularly in property on the Lower East Side. Phil’s idea required the fulfillment of two immediate objectives: find artificial intelligence expertise and find the funding his project would need. Although the funding was important, the expertise in AI was why Phil was talking to John. Now all Phil had to do was convince John of the dire need humanity has for his idea and hope John’s expertise was amongst the best the AI world had to offer.

John was feeling compelled to give Phil more of a sense of who he was. “You now know I go all the way back to pre‐war Netherlands through my father’s side and Latvia, possibly Ireland as well, on my mother’s side. But I should tell you a bit about myself.”

“I’d like that”, confided Phil. “All I know is that which led me to you. You are concerned about mankind and the growth of artificial intelligence”, said Phil, giving John somewhere to start.

“Yeah, that’s right. In recent years I have started to become a little nervous about AI, so much so I wrote some of my thoughts on a webpage which led to a call‐up on a panel or two.”

Phil was curious about John’s current feelings about AI with regards to the considerable public fear. “When did you start to become concerned about AI?”

“It was quite a few years ago, probably when commentators were still marvelling at the novelty value…, chess games and the like. When I was younger some of my favourite movies were the Terminator movies of the mid 80s and early 90s. I was fascinated by science fiction; the books, comics, movies, TV…it was all great fun but also thought provoking. I never believed it likely such things could eventuate in my lifetime, nor any lifetime for that matter. But, as twenty ten was flipping over to twenty eleven I became alarmed that the gap between science fiction and reality had dramatically shortened. I became concerned the day would arrive when true

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Chapter 2 John artificial intelligence would become a reality and if combined with the advances in robotics that I was also aware of, the science fiction of my youth was destined to become the reality of my middle age. Not many others were concerned about it at that time. New technology was being pumped out daily and everyone wanted more and more. All anyone had to do was sit in a quiet place and imagine where it was all going, which is exactly what I did countless times. I didn’t once come up with a scenario that didn’t scare me. And it still does to this day.”

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Chapter 3 The Dock

Chapter 3 The Dock

The dock creaked and groaned as John and Phil walked past the boathouse. Some of the planks had seen better days but still had plenty of life remaining. Phil grew up near the water. Some of his earliest memories were on the family boat, fishing with his father and brother. He noticed the mooring ropes were reasonably new, and the double hitches were recent, yet to be pulled tight by the constant tugging of the lake. They walked to the end of the dock. John slipped into the boathouse for some drinks and a bowl of water for Patsy. He returned to find Phil standing at the edge of the dock, taking in the panorama.

The sun had passed its zenith and was on its arc towards the horizon, still providing plenty of warmth. The heat of the sun was offset by the crisp cooler air drifting up from the lake. Phil could clearly see the bottom and guessed it would be at least as deep as himself, maybe deeper. He stood up straight and filled his lungs with the scented air, the lure of the water was tugging gently, inviting him to feel its caress as it swirled around his body. Only once before had he been to America, to Detroit for business, but the ambience standing by the lake was in stark contrast to the aftermath of anger he saw in Detroit all those years ago.

Phil liked what he was seeing and dwelled a minute or so longer, hypnotised by the gentle ripples as the breeze brushed the lake’ surface towards him. The trees were almost motionless and above was a deepening blue sky without a single cloud. He thought about where the conversation was going. Should he prepare for an onslaught like he had faced many times before? He decided to lower his expectations. He liked John and wanted John’s curiosity to be his metronome, he would feed that curiosity as he gained confidence his idea would appeal to the man he had travelled so far to be with. All he needed was to keep his powder dry. John wanted to know more. He was sure of this.

John watched whilst Phil stood motionless immersed in the ambience of the lake, enjoying his moment of tranquillity. When he turned away John motioned him towards one of the Adirondack chairs. Neither man wanted to interrupt the gentle sound of water lapping the dock and the occasional birdsong. It seemed even more intoxicating after a few hours of discussion. A short time later Phil became restless, he was ready to speak.

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“You caught me earlier studying your house. Do you mind if I ask you about the boatshed?”

“What would you like to know?” asked John

“It doesn’t look to be the same age as the house. When was it built?”

“My mother had this built. Some of my earliest memories go back to the apartment in the City. I was four or five, eagerly waiting for the summer holidays to arrive so we could come here. Father was with us sometimes but it was mostly Mother, Maria and me. Occasionally friends would join us. The lake was the big attraction. My mother loved it and would hire a boat for the week and take Maria and me out fishing and swimming. It really was my idea of heaven back then. When it was decided my mother would move here with us two children, she asked my father if he could build a boathouse and replace the dock. It was narrow and rather treacherous. I would run along it and jump off the end, imagining it was like in the cartoons…, you know, the planks falling one by one as I stepped off them. I think it would have been a deal breaker if he didn’t. So, it was all replaced with what you see now.”

“They did a good job”, Phil said approvingly.

“Later on, after we’d moved up here, mother would spend hours in there…, and out here, with her easel and water colours, painting the lake and trees. Sometimes she would put us in her paintings, whilst we caught fish and swam. Mother would still be here even when Maria and me roamed the woods, playing explorers looking for the treasure. When Maria moved to the City some years later and I was up in the house with my nose in my school books or glued to the computer screen, mother would find herself alone. She spent the greater part of that time here. I remember her buying a couple of walkie talkies from a catalogue, just to say hello every couple of hours. That’s why there’s a log burner in there, she didn’t want winter to keep her away. Sometimes she had a friend or two with her and they would paint and chat. Her paintings are on the walls in there. You should have a look when you go in.”

“It’s lovely, quite beautiful”, Phil said as he again appraised the setting. “It just seems so authentic. With the shoreline hinting outwards into the lake on either side creating a perfect little private bay, yet to be discovered by the rest of the world.”

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“I like it too. The lake extends about ten miles to the north west”, John pointed away to the right of the dock, “with the nearest town, Beeston at the top of the lake. We are almost at the bottom of the lake here, but the road between here and Beeston, as you may have discovered, is rather windy and in bad shape. Personally, I don’t want it upgraded, it is the last line of deterrent to summer revellers coming down this far. I’m happy to endure the forty‐minute drive into town, which isn’t very often. Helps to keep my end of the lake nice and quiet. The road has always been bad. Looking back now, that road was probably instrumental in the path my life has taken. Mother didn’t want to take the drive twice a day, so she decided it was best for me to be home schooled. The top half of the lake is crazy mad in summer. You probably noticed the holiday letting signs either side of the town when you drove in. We see some boats about but most of the activity is up near the town where the boat ramps, parking and food is.”

“Jet skis?”, asked Phil.

“There is an area for them at the top of the lake. They aren’t allowed down here. Some of the more ‘influential’ property owners at this end managed to have their way.”, John said with a grin. “Disturbs the wildlife…, and me.”

John enjoyed relaxing and talking with Phil about the lake, the woods and his adventures whilst growing up. He sensed Phil’s childhood may have been similar. Lots of adventure and freedom. Sitting there quietly, John recalled the slick salesmen he had also entertained on the dock. They would lavish praise as if he was somehow the creator of all they could see. He knew then it was just another of their tricks to flatter him and make him feel special, an old ploy used too often. Phil was far from being like them. He was curious, particularly concerning the age of everything. John thought he was a bit odd when it came to that. Maybe he was actually a writer researching a book. He found him peculiar but beguiling at the same time. John remembered about a year ago when one fellow brought a couple of fishing poles with the intention of spending the afternoon on the lake, drinking and planning a business venture with him. He had only known him for ten minutes before he had pulled the poles from his trunk.

It was time to kickstart the conversation again. John recalled Phil had asked him if people were more likely to take from each other or to give to each other. He thought he would wait for Phil to bring the question up again before responding.

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After a short while, they both started to speak at the same time. John stopped and held back, urging Phil to continue.

“Have you thought about the question I left with you?”

“I have, I’ve given it some deep thought. I don’t want to sound too harsh, but I find people are mostly concerned with satisfying themselves. Let me preface that with this. I may see it that way because I’ve lived in seclusion most of my life and most visitors only come here if they are looking to me for something. I’m pretty fortunate in not having to work and my requirements from people are negligible. Quite possibly I structure my life that way just to avoid unnecessary contact with others. I can’t say for sure, haven’t really thought about it before now.

“How often do you have people visit?”, Phil asked.

“For the past ten years I have entertained…., maybe one a month on average. I should have told you earlier, they contact me wanting to run a business opportunity past me. I sometimes refuse to see them but mostly I invite them. It adds variation to my life and most of them have interesting stories to tell. It’s a safe way to keep in touch with what’s happening. But…, at the end of the day, its money they are after.” Then he remembered why Phil was sitting opposite him. “I hope I am not talking to another of those people at this very moment?”, John said teasingly.

Phil considered John’s humour might be his way of expressing a genuine concern. He decided to play along with him. See if he could gain the upper hand.

“I want money John, lots of it”, said Phil.

John thought Phil was returning his joke with one of his own. He glanced at Phil to find his face was devoid of joviality. He couldn’t detect even the slightest of hints that Phil was anything but serious. Behind his glasses, John’s eyes had narrowed straining for greater focus, peering deeply at Phil in search of a clue, a truth. He started to become concerned that Phil was actually playing it straight, he was here for the money. Phil had to be joking, he thought, but he still couldn’t see anything to the contrary in Phil’s resolute face.

Phil was certainly extending himself this time. He knew he had John, but how long could he last. He could feel the pull at the corner of his eyes, the strain of deception was taking its toll. He battled on, trying to keep strong. He knew he couldn’t last

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Chapter 3 The Dock much longer. Phil could see a little twitch forming at the rear of John’s jaw, and he was sure he detected the hint of a smile forming at one corner of his mouth.

John held in check what he could feel Phil was seeing, determined to make him think twice. He was determined to have Phil come clean. He wanted him to reveal if he was serious or just playing with him.

Having his adversary shy away from calling his bluff was always the most fun for Phil. He pushed himself, urging his resolve to strengthen. Although he didn’t play poker, Phil had been praised over the years for his now legendary poker face, but this was going just a bit longer than even he could manage. He too started to falter. He hoped he could just last long enough for John to fold first.

In an instant, both were laughing at each other and at themselves. It was a long laugh, a relieving laugh which they shared. Phil was the first to collect himself and thought he would try it on again immediately. He figured John wouldn’t expect him to do that. He continued as if his previous answer hadn’t been in jest.

“But that is the lesser of the two goals I have set.”

John chose to ignore Phil

“I need someone who can build an artificial intelligence project. The really huge problem I have is to find someone who is not only capable of building such a project but is also the right type of person to understand the gravity of its need.”

John had become very attentive, thinking this was the moment Phil was going to divulge his idea.

“I don’t want to waste anybody’s time and for that matter MONEY…., in attempting to build an AI project when that person cannot appreciate the need. This is not a commercial project. There’s no profit built in whatsoever.”

John liked what he was hearing.

“Of far more importance than you knowing my idea is me knowing who you are….” The makings of a smile tugged at Phil’s face. He couldn’t keep his serious persona going. “And I now know you are just as silly as me”, he said, buckling at his second attempt to be super business‐like. His infectious childish laughter broke through.

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Both men once again fell about laughing.

“Sorry, sorry. I really need to pull myself together if I am ever going to finish this. It really is important,” Phil said trying to hold back his impulse to laugh again.

“…And you were doing so well”, John managed to say amongst his laughing.

“…You really think so?”, Phil said before exploding in laughter again.

John was still laughing, half out loud and half to himself. “I know. How about I go into the boathouse and you talk to me through the door…”, he suggested, launching into another round of laughter as he pictured himself sitting behind the door listening to Phil.

Phil looked at the boathouse door then looked at John, “That could work”, he replied, but immediately starting laughing at the silliness of it all.

The laughing subsided and they sat talking idle rubbish for another ten minutes until the adult within had crept back in. Phil recapped what he said earlier then continued. He had reverted to using sections of his previously prepared presentation, which John was happy to go along with.

“…I could broadcast my idea to the world but it would mean very little, it would be laughed at and I would be ridiculed, but to a person who understands the dire need it becomes so much more. Nothing can work unless we know each other far better than any of those people who have come to you in the past.” Phil added that last bit on the fly. “To do this I must first bring you into my world. A world that sees how the human race is suffering and descending towards a point of no return.” When he had finally finished, he relaxed. He dropped the presenters voice and spoke softly, with kindness. “John, please let me take you on this journey, you can be an observer and contributor and eventually, hopefully, we will be colleagues.”

John was impressed. He sat for a while going over Phil’s words. He thought if any of the people who had come seeking his money over the years were to have started with such an address the outcome may have been different. He was actually looking forward to the journey. “You have my attention and full cooperation”, he said.

“Great. Thank you and I will continue. There is much to cover. I spoke about competition and how it is important to people to be able to compete and have wins

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Chapter 3 The Dock to increase their sense of self‐worth, make themselves believe they are good and not bad. Eventually I will answer your amazing question, ‘Why is self‐worth so important to humans?’. But for now, I need to build your knowledge to help you understand the answer when it arrives. I want you to think for a minute about the word ‘competition’. Think about life in terms of that word.” Phil picked up the empty root beer bottles saying, “My shout” and headed into the boathouse.

Returning with two more root beers, he handed one to John and carried on as if he had been speaking the whole time.

“As I alluded to in our earlier discussion about competition, man’s world is built on competition. It is essential for man’s well‐being that he competes. I could spend hours tracing the origins of competition back through history, dissecting every aspect of society, stripping it back to the core motivation or driver, but we don’t have that sort of time. You will hear me talk about drivers quite often, so I apologise in advance for that. But competition is the unrelenting force man’s history is built on. However, I just want to talk as if I have done all that and we acknowledge man is a competitive beast. People need and people want. It may be out of necessity or it may be discretionary, it don’t matter, they still want. Competition occurs when two people want the same thing or when people know they have something that others want. Capitalism is based on competition….”

“Here, here”, John cheered in agreement.

“…. ‘Free market forces’ are three words to say the one, ‘competition’. Males compete for a partner whilst people compete for employment and children compete for college places. We sometimes compete for attention from each other. We compete to be heard. We compete to uphold our beliefs, which we see as the truth. We compete to have others agreed they are the truth and to believe in the same beliefs. Life is a competition for supremacy for some, survival for others. Think about artificial intelligence for a moment. Would I be correct in saying there are people developing AI who do not tell anyone else about their progress? Would you say it is because they want the AI, that thing the whole world is chasing, all for themselves? They want to be the first person, and possibly the only person, to have it. To control it. They want to win the biggest prize in our lifetime.”

John knew Phil was spot on with AI. He thought of how far he had advanced with AI. He had taken a big risk in allowing the boys to be part of that. “I do agree with

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Chapter 3 The Dock you on that one”, John mused, trying not to feel offended by Phil’s inference he was competitive.

“I am not suggesting all competition is bad. I’m not passing judgement on competition, well not just yet. Regardless of country or creed, competition has been the force enabling mankind to progress technology, fuel innovation and make the unknown, known. Society is constantly evolving because of the power of competition. Competition gives birth to winners and it is through competition great power is created.”

John considered this idea of competition. He looked through the lens of his mind’s eye at his own experiences. He knew how competitive the world was, he had seen it many times in the rough and tumble of city business. Phil’s way of explaining it unsettled him. His reference to the competitive nature of AI development was gnawing away inside of him. He could see the picture Phil was painting, and it was making sense, he just didn’t want to see himself in that picture. It made him question his own belief in his nature, it made him uncomfortable to examine himself and find that he too might be a part of the competition. There aren’t many aspects of his life where competition was the foremost motivation, but when it came to AI, there it was. He was competitive. Or was he? Could there be another reason? He had never really thought about the world in terms of being so competitive. Although he was not totally naïve to competition, he just thought he was avoiding competition by living where he did.

Phil was once again studying John, looking for feedback. That time was approaching when Phil would have to decide if John was going to understand enough to come on board or if not, return to Australia disillusioned. He had defined competition and pointed to it in terms of it being humanity’s greatest asset, now he had to expose its underbelly of selfishness and greed, show how it had become mankind’s worst enemy.

“Being competitive is difficult for most people to think about. Whenever I talk about competition there are those who look inward and those who look outward. The outward lookers assume being competitive is bad and see everyone but themselves as competitive. The outward lookers feel relieved someone is finally pointing the finger at those ‘others’ they blame for all their woes. The inward lookers feel uncomfortable because they fear I am persecuting them for being competitive. They may not know the countless ways they are competitive but have a sense they 53

Chapter 3 The Dock must be guilty of competing because they see everyone else doing it. They defend themselves, saying if they didn’t compete with others they wouldn’t survive because others are so much more competitive than themselves. They believe they are competitive by necessity and this somehow makes it all ok.”

“I think I am an inward looker”, volunteered John.

Phil acknowledged John’s honesty about himself, then continued.

“Just before we move on there is another little story I would very much like to share with you. Much of our earlier discussion was big picture stuff. Countries projecting power onto other countries, war and trade. Whilst the human drivers entrenching man in competition is so easily extracted from the big picture of humanity, the lives of ordinary people and the prevalence of competition in those lives may be easily overlooked. Is it ok to tell you this little story?”, asked Phil.

“I like stories”, John answered enthusiastically.

“This one’s a bit lame, and I’m allowed to say that because it is my creation. However, it does illustrate the principles I will expand on further as we go.”

John shrugged as if to say it was ok, he would listen anyway.

“Good. I’ll need to read most of this to make sure I leave nothing out. Right, here goes. Romeo is into his sixth month of employment at a large city store and sees the merchandise displays in his assigned area are tired and in need of rejuvenation. Some of the newer merchandise was displayed as if an afterthought. Alice is the person in charge, so he heads off to her office, outlines what he intends to do and obtains her approval. The next day Romeo completes a portion of the display, adding a bit of his flair and in so doing modernising the appearance of that section of the store. Alice visits later in the afternoon and appears satisfied. However, as Romeo explains his intentions for the next portion of merchandise display Alice’s demeanour starts to change. The next day, Alice comes by early and says, “I know you won’t like me saying this, but I want you to leave the displays as they are.” When Romeo points out how she had agreed previously he received this response, “Changing the display is not showing the merchandise in the best way, I won’t be changing my mind”. Romeo is dumbfounded but abides by Alice’s ruling.”

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When Phil finished reading, John asked him what he was supposed to be looking out for, what was the story telling him.

“Let’s break it down”, said Phil, beginning his explanation. “When Alice saw Romeo’s display, she stopped him with a flimsy reason about not showing the merchandise in its best way. But what really happened was Alice had a negative emotional response when she viewed the new display. She couldn’t understand her reaction at the time but overnight she came to the belief her displays were disappearing and the character of the store with them. She had created that character some years earlier and been promoted because of her efforts. Alice feared it would no longer feel like her store anymore. When she gave Romeo the go ahead, she wasn’t consciously aware of how much she needed to see those displays every day when she walked around the store. She wasn’t aware those displays made her feel good about herself and how they provided a constant reminder of her promotion. Alice also feared the young man might do better displays, leading to his promotion, possibly at her expense. Her fear, envy and concern for her own self was the cause of her seeking out Romeo the next day. Alice had little empathy for Romeo in using her position of authority to order him to cease updating the displays.”

Phil paused momentarily to emphasise his next comment. “Alice had emotional responses without knowing the root causes. She was aware she wouldn’t feel the same if all the displays were changed and this created anxiety. She had to stop what she believed was the cause.”

“When you first told the story I agreed with you, it was lame. Now you have explained it, I think it is quite good”, John said. “But I’m not getting Alice’s reaction. What do you mean when you say ‘without knowing the root causes’?”

“That’s an astute observation. Let me explain. Alice didn’t know why she had to progress to a position of authority and power in the first place. She had simply felt it was the way to go back then. Whatever the reason, it gave her what she needed. It made her happy. The reason back then was the same reason she reacted poorly to Romeo’s displays. The root cause or reason sounds simple enough but it is anything but. Alice needed to feel good about herself. She needed to know that she was a good person. She needed to feel worthy. Everyone experiences exactly this to some degree. But the important thing to remember is the need for a healthy self‐ worth and to feel they are a good person never remains static. It constantly requires 55

Chapter 3 The Dock attention. People need to keep feeding their ego. For Alice, that came with reminding herself of her promotion of a few years earlier. The displays were a crucial part in that reminder process. When she pictured them changed, her feeling of self‐worth took a dive. Stamping her authority and keeping the displays as they were, allowed Alice’s sense of self‐worth return.”, Phil answered.

“OK. So, the driver for her stopping him was fear?”, asked John.

“In a way, yes. Once the need to regain self‐worth kicked in, the competitive driver went up a few gears. Alice found herself competing with Romeo, albeit in her own mind. She thought he would take away her control and power by winning the plaudits of her superiors, the same as Alice had done a few years earlier when she was elevated to her current role. She had competed then, and she was competing again. Alice feared he might take her position and she would lose her power. Unbeknownst to Alice, her biggest concern was the loss of feeling good about herself. Having control over Romeo and feeling that power were essential for her feeling good about who she was. Making decisions and instructing people as part of her daily routine made her feel she was a good person. It gave her a high sense of self‐worth.”

“It was fear of losing her self‐worth and her belief she was a good person that switched on her competitive driver?”, asked John, hoping he was understanding correctly.

“That’s correct, but don’t think of the competitive driver as something which switches on and off. Think of it as always on‐call. How competitive a person behaves depends on how important it is they feel good about themselves, how much their self‐worth requires massaging. This determines how hard they will pursue whatever it is that does it for them, makes them feel they are good and they are worthy. In the case of Alice, she didn’t want to lose what made her feel worthwhile and intuitively her conscious mind had to compete to prevent that from occurring. Alice wasn’t thinking about self‐worth and the need to feel she was good, she only felt a fear that something was being taken from her, making her feel insecure. She would have intuitively sensed an impending loss of control if Romeo was to do all the displays. It was an instance of panic and fear, but she couldn’t dig down to find what it was that predisposed her to becoming fearful. All she was cognisant of was the fear She may not have been overly cognisant of her response to it because fear of losing self‐worth can be an extremely powerful emotion and in many cases causes 56

Chapter 3 The Dock a knee‐jerk reaction. She couldn’t have empathy for Romeo because she was selfishly protecting the power and control essential to her sense of self‐worth. Romeo was now a competitor, without him being aware he was. Alice used her authority to defeat Romeo and keep feeling powerful, reclaim the self‐worth that her mind had already taken away from her. She had won and Romeo had lost, that was sufficient to restore her sense of self‐worth and allow her to feel good again.”

John was still unsure about Phil’s use of self‐worth and Alice’s need to feel she was a good person as an explanation for her behaviour. Weighing up this story, John threw in some possible missing information. “Romeo may have been competitive as well. He might have learned how Alice attained promotion and thought he would do the same.”

Phil agreed but noticed John was still seeing the drive to be competitive as a conscious decision. He knew this was the same difficulty most people had. People don’t want to believe they have processes or drivers deep within their brain function which they are unaware of. Being mindful of the root causes of one’s behaviour takes an incredible amount of honesty and years of practise. The latter is not desired by most and the former is prone to subjectivity. For these reasons, understanding and accepting the predisposition to competitiveness is not consciously recognisable and beyond the comprehension of the vast majority of people. Phil thought it generated a similar emotion as the one when people try to imagine what was beyond the edge of the universe. They just wanted to push it away and not think about it. Phil planned to slowly expose John to this very difficult concept, but now was not the time to hit him with it. He thought it best to complete the explanation and bring John back to it later.

“That could very well be the case or it could have been Romeo was the owner’s nephew and wanted to reward his uncle for believing in him enough to give him a start. Romeo thought he would do this by making his uncle’s store look better, possibly selling more merchandise to cover his salary. He may have had no idea who had dressed the displays before him. Romeo’s drivers could’ve been selfish as you suggest or altruistic as I suggest.”

“I see”, said John. It was starting to become clearer. “Either way, Alice would still have acted the same. She just wanted to protect her own self‐worth and if that meant competing then by golly, that’s what she did.”

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“I think you nailed it.”, replied Phil excitedly. “I pulled that story from my experiences in the workplace. People start a new job and even if they convince themselves it’s just a job…, you know…, food on the table, bit of beer money and that’s all it is to them, it doesn’t stay that way for very long. They carve out a slice of responsibility then proceed to protect it. Many jobs have inherent competition, think real estate agent, project manager, policeman, or solicitor. Other jobs can be quite routine. It’s irrelevant how much competing a job requires, people tend to want more. It’s like wanting the wild salmon over the farmed salmon…, they look the same but it tastes much better. You know, just having a conversation during a tea break can be competitive in most workplaces. Those who need to dominate rarely take a break from competing. Those who don’t want to be dominated can’t take a break. They must always be ready to defend. In my working days I enjoyed the ‘smoko’ breaks. Watching the interactions told me more about each of the workers than any number of chats I could have with them. Workplaces become very important to everyone who enters them, and not always for the right reasons. It is their main source of competition and therefore, their main source of feeling good about themselves and generating that all‐important sense of self‐worth.”

John knew he had to take Phil’s word on this, he had never worked with people. But he had listened to family and friends over the years, watched depictions of workplaces in movies and on television and read about them in books. He could relate to what Phil was saying through their stories.

“You know, it’s really starting to happen for me. I’m getting all this even though I’ve never worked with people.” John was genuinely chuffed with himself. Phil could see he was happy, but found it very strange. In the past, this was the point an argument would break out or resentment would surface, or at the very least he would be getting his coat and heading for the door before he was asked to leave. People just don’t like any insinuation they are competitive. Few people have ever heard the concept of needing to feel good about oneself and the importance of an adequate sense of self‐worth. It goes over their heads as if spoken in a foreign language. Phil could explain it a hundred times but it would rarely stick. He knew it was touch and go as to whether a person could think about that concept. Those who did, could only do so in terms of the proverbial ‘others’. Phil was yet to meet a person who could relate it to themselves. There was no can of worms for John, Phil thought. It was all too easy.

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Phil wanted to move on quickly, now he was confident John was grasping the concepts. “But you can apply the same understanding to any facet of life, “he said. “The competitive driver isn’t exclusive to the workplace. Competition, as I said before, is everywhere. The challenge for you, at first, is recognising it when you see it. If you become good at that then ignoring it becomes the new challenge.”

“Why? I mean why become good at seeing competition then want to become good at ignoring it?” It didn’t make sense to John.

“Simply because you start seeing it so much that you start wishing you didn’t. When you were naïve to seeing competitiveness in people you would converse with them, do business or whatever. There may be the odd difficulty or two, but you compromise and get on with it.” Phil was on his feet. He was excited and felt too restricted in the Adirondack chair. His hands and arms were starting to tell the story just as much as his words. He also enjoyed playing the fictional characters in his explanations. “When you start seeing the competitive driver at work, you then have a voice in your head that says something like, ‘Oh no, it’s starting, its winding up…, here we go, strap yourself in’. In other words, you start preparing yourself for the possible firestorm of another competitive interaction. You begin to dread them. You try to work out how to diffuse the other person’s need to be competitive, you become frustrated that their competitiveness is corrupting their ability to see things logically and so on. You start thinking it’s not going to end well. But the worst part is this. You are absolutely aware if you don’t compete as well, they will walk right over you. Eventually the whole process becomes tiresome and monotonous. You fail to participate properly, depriving the other person of their worthiness top‐up. In fact, you frustrate the hell out of them because the natural order of things has been interfered with.”

John had been enjoying Phil’s athleticism, but it suddenly dawned on him what Phil was actually saying.

“What you’re telling me is this. ‘I’ve just made your life difficult Mister Groot. Goodbye, hope you enjoy it’. That’s right, that’s what you’ve done for me. Thank you very much Mister Blake.” John may have been intentionally exaggerating to create a bit of his own drama, but he was genuinely upset.

“John, John, it’s not that bad”, Phil said, resuming his seat again to console John. “It really is just a phase you pass through. Good things don’t come easy and there is

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Chapter 3 The Dock plenty of good that will come if you bear with me. But I will say this. When you disrupt the natural order like I just said…, be careful. Rarely would a person come upon someone who can see straight through them. Most can understand another person wanting to win or another who backs away or someone attempting to diffuse a situation, but someone who does none of those…, well that’s a whole new ball game and the play book doesn’t have anything about that one.”

John settles down, resigning himself to hearing Phil out. “It sounds ominous. But I’ll keep going, hope your right, and I’ll try to remember your advice.”

“You’ll be ok. The conscious mind does have the ability to reject that which it doesn’t like. If you don’t like seeing the competitiveness in others, you probably won’t”. Phil said reassuringly.

“Thanks.” John’s upset was easing. “I trust you’re right on that one.”

“I’ll keep going?”, Phil asked.

“Yeah, take my mind somewhere else.”

“Alright. When it comes to making oneself feel they are a good person, you will find there are an infinite number of ways people do this. And the same for boosting one’s self‐worth.” Phil was back to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of John as he spoke. “Just think about all the structured ways of competing, forgetting about the never‐ending competition of everyday life for the moment. Sport is the obvious one, but what about the less obvious. The women who bake for the local hospital fund‐raising cooking contest, the guys who participate in all day fishing contests, the local trivia night, bingo, photography and art competitions, produce competitions for farmers, singing, board games, air guitar, cockroach racing…, if you can think of it, there are probably people already competing at it. People create outlets for their need to compete….”

“That goes without saying….” John was watched Phil’s face closely. “I can see there is more to come.”

“Yep, that was just the introduction.”

“Apologies for interrupting.”

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“It’s all good. Thanks anyway. Back to competition. The problem is, people cannot confine themselves to organised competition. Take the weekend soccer game for the girls under twelves. The two teams are playing and on the sideline is the mother of one of the girls. She’s sitting there with another mother watching their daughters kick the ball, run, defend. They enjoy it whilst talking about the new shop in the mall and the dinner they were to prepare that evening. Walking up and down the sideline is another girl’s father, yelling encouragement to his daughter. The two mothers tolerate him but when he starts telling his daughter to do better, denigrating the opposition girls and raucously disagreeing with the referee it all becomes a bit too much for the mothers. They suggest he takes it a bit easier but he turns on them. For him, his daughters sport is his sport, his competition. He feels good about himself if his daughter does well. We’ve all seen it before. But for the mothers it is not like that. They don’t have the same need to feel good about themselves, improve their self‐worth by watching their daughters as the father appears to have. He creates friction and animosity between himself and the mothers. That afternoon one of the mothers is in the supermarket. Her trolley is full and she heads towards an empty checkout. The father from the soccer game is at the same supermarket, relaxed and worlds away from the soccer game he appears to be a different fellow to the one patrolling the sideline that morning. He’s finished filling his trolley and is meandering up the aisle towards the same checkout as the mother. The woman sees him exit the aisle, but doesn’t recognise him as the father from the soccer game. She ups her pace and swings in, just in front of the father. She just likes to beat people to checkouts. She turns and smiles, apologising she didn’t see him, blah, blah, blah. That’s her feeling good, self‐worth thing. The father shakes his head with disbelief that people have to compete for a supermarket checkout. He then recognises her from the soccer game and recalls his animosity towards her that morning. He adds the trolley incident to his memory of the incident at the game a few hours earlier....”

John interrupted to finish the story. “I see it. He competes at the girls’ soccer game, she competes at checkouts, and they upset each other. Neither has any knowledge about competing for that feel‐good factor and self‐worth. They both do it, just in different ways and at different times. And I know what you are going to say next…”

“Which is?”, Phil asked

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“This is why people develop so much negativity and dislike towards each other. They all have their own unique way of making themselves feel good and maintaining their self‐worth. What works for one irritates another.”

“Exactly right.” Phil’s tone was one of congratulations and encouragement. “Look at society as people all finding those things which make them feel good about themselves, tells them they are good. For some it might be closing the multi‐million‐ dollar company acquisition, for others it might be earning the bonus for completing a project ahead of schedule, or it might be finding that rare stamp to complete the commemorative set, or cooking that perfect dish. Whatever it may be, their competitive driver ramps up and they aim for the win. Unfortunately, they become consumed with achieving victory and therein lies the problem. Collateral damage occurs.”

“This sounds good, I like ‘collateral damage’. I also think we’re reaching into the heart of the matter.”, commented John, not realising he was interrupting.

Phil heard John’s comment, acknowledged with a nod of the head and carried on. “I just want to draw attention to something I just said.”

“What was it?”, asked John.

“I said, when a person’s competitive driver ramps up, they become consumed with achieving victory. I just want to emphasise how people become blinkered to those around them when they are competing hard. If what they are doing matters to them more than most things, chiefly because it is a self‐worth / feel I am a good person kind of thing, then they have trouble considering others. We’ll revisit this more as we go. Just wanted to draw your attention to it.”

“I’ve locked it in”, John said. He was thinking about it at the same time, wondering if he became like that with his programming. Meanwhile, Phil was off and running again.

“…for some it is being ruthless. They know others are being adversely affected, but that adds to the sense of power, control and heightens their sense of victory. For others it is not indiscriminate ruthlessness. It is a calculated ruthlessness, being considerate of some whilst punishing others. They engineer the path to their objective to strategically benefit selected people, most likely to ensure they have some useful support. When too many people are going to be adversely affected, 62

Chapter 3 The Dock they sell it as the ‘best thing to do for the majority’ or ‘some of you will find it hard in the short term, but will reap the benefits later on’. It’s all pretty standard sales talk by those taking a gamble on a new direction or restructuring businesses, possibly politicians making decisions to appease powerful minority interests. Or it could be a husband who does what he knows is wrong, telling himself his wife will react badly but he’ll be able to bring her around later.”

“That’s pretty heavy‐duty stuff”, interjected John. “Are you talking about…, isn’t that the kinda stuff happening all the time…, like normal life out there? I’m confused. Are these the more uncommon events or just what goes on day after day?”

Phil thought it was time to give John the big eye opener. He held his hand up in that way people do when they request patience, indicating all will be explained. “Let’s change tack for the moment. Put yourself in this situation. You’re sitting on a chair in a room and you notice an object on the floor about 20 feet in front of you. Occasionally people walk past the object, mostly unaware it is there or just too busy to pay attention to it. You’re sitting in your chair and you don’t know what it is or if it should be there. Do you ignore it or pick it up?”

“Pick it up, obviously.”

“Why?”. Phil was curious why he answered so hastily.

“I don’t really know. Maybe because it looked interesting, or it shouldn’t be there. It was creating a trip hazard….”

Phil repeated the question, “Why would YOU pick it up?

“To stop it being stood on and broken or a person tripping on it”, John answered hastily.

“That’s interesting”, Phil said rubbing the side of his chin. “You may be a person who is instinctively selfless. We will need to look at that more closely, but later. Some people may do as you would do, selflessly remove the object out of harm’s way. But are they truly selfless? Could it not be they know what the right thing to do is and are motivated by knowing beforehand just how much it will make them feel good if they do it?”

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“Are you genuine or are you being a cynical devil’s advocate?”, asked John.

“No, I’m being absolutely genuine.” Phil had stopped his pacing and was standing indignantly in front of John. “People do what they know is the right thing, just to experience that feeling. I’m curious if that sounds strange to you?”

“It does. I would have said the person was performing a selfless act. End of story. You’re actually saying the selfless act is not motivated by selflessness, it’s actually motivated by selfishness.

“Very much so”, Phil replied.

John was shaking his head. “I think I’ve got to get out more”, he said. Phil chuckled and John saw the funny side as well.

“I’m not trying to say every person who behaved selflessly is motivated by a desire to experience that feeling, but the probability is high. It may not be in your case…, we will find out about you in due course, but for the vast majority of people, that is exactly what I’m saying.

“And for a moment I thought you were saying I would behave selfishly”, said John with a mock laugh.

“Haven’t finished yet. Let’s see how this one sits with you. There would be people giving answers such as, ‘it looked valuable so I would pick it up’ or ‘I saw it there but it meant nothing to me so I ignored it’.”

“I can go along with that”, John agreed.

“Good. I could imagine some people watching one or two people walking past it, chatting away, oblivious to the object’s presence. They sit there and wonder if it could be something they might want. They look around to see if anyone is watching them, picking there moment to nonchalantly walk over and retrieve the object, returning to their chair as if it belonged to them and they had dropped it earlier. They would sneak a look after a while, just in case they are being watched. If it appealed, they would keep it, if not they would put it on the floor or even take it back to where they found it.”

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“I could imagine that happening as well”, said John. He was becoming intrigued as to where Phil was going with his story. This didn’t escape Phil’s notice.

“If you’re wondering what the point is, it’s this. For anyone to pick up that object, there needs to be a motivation. No one picks it up without some form of motivation. Would you agree?

John nodded his head in agreement, “Obviously”.

“It’s the same in life. To do anything, apart from the things we do without being terribly mindful, we need to have a motivation. Most people can go to work, do the basics, get paid and go home. But does everyone do that? No. If they don’t, if they take it upon themselves to do more, why is that?”

John knew why, “They want fulfillment and satisfaction from their jobs. They want to feel they are doing a job that means something to them.”

“Exactly.” Phil was arched slightly backwards, arms half‐cocked, fists pumped as if victory was close. “They want to feel good. ‘Fulfillment and job satisfaction are the same as feeling good. People want to feel worthwhile. It is the same as wanting to feel good and have self‐worth. And therein lies the motivation.”

I agree, but your point is what?” John was becoming impatient, not because he was bored or anything like that, he wanted Phil to quit his ‘suspense’ thing and just tell him what it all means.

Phil received the message loud and clear. “Can I ask for your patience for a little longer, I just need to take this a tad further?”

“Two minutes…, then I blow a fuse.” John displayed a big grin, proud of his cheekiness.

“Ok, then. People can finish work, go home and sit in front of the box and do nothing. Hopefully, most don’t. Doing discretionary things requires motivation. Exercise, hobbies, reading a book or redecorating the house requires motivation. If there are risks attached to the activity, the motivation required is necessarily greater. That’s important to keep hold of, remember it, as risks go up, so too must the motivation. You could probably say, ‘if the risks go up the incentives need to make it worthwhile’.

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John interrupted again. “It just clicked for me”, he said gleefully. “Anything that someone does in business, government or life in general for that matter, which has risks or some higher degree of difficulty will require a source of motivation otherwise people will simply remain sitting in the chair ignoring that object in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.” Phil was almost bouncing with excitement. He had only ever dreamed of taking someone this far. John didn’t realise how much easier he was making. “It might be buying a girl a drink. Seems harmless enough, but the motivation is obvious, he wants to see where it will lead. He becomes focused, blinkers are on and the scent of desire being satisfied becomes his incentive. If it goes all the way, as he hopes, then he ends up feeling great, he’s conquered and feels worthy. It’s easy enough to trace the source of the motivation for that one, but…”

“I would imagine they aren’t all as easy to trace”, John said confidently before Phil could finish. “Let me give you one. I just want to be sure if I’m grasping this correctly.” John conjures up an imaginary scenario based on his company in the City. “We’re in a workplace in the city. Top boss wants a manager to bring in a new client. Manager doesn’t see the new client has much potential so it doesn’t light his fire, doesn’t ignite his ego, which is always hunting for its next win. He assesses the risks of his boss’s request. If he doesn’t succeed in pulling the new client in, the top boss could be dissatisfied, his shining star dims and others begin to shine more brightly. The manager is deterred by the risk. The top boss offers him one of his own accounts, a good account already with decent earnings, in exchange for pulling in the new client. The manager thinks the top boss is starting to cook with the good oil, the thought of that guaranteed extra income is the incentive that sparks his ego. Being given a good income account, providing he brings in the new client, is the win he’s been hunting for. That incentive makes him blind to the risks…, he just wants to feel good and improve his self‐worth by being the top boss’s Alpha Centauri. The competitive driver kicks into action because of the incentivised motivation to win, to bring in the new client. He’s pumped and puts his blinkers on, thinking only of the win he can almost taste.”

Phil was over the moon. He did a little spin and a jump to clip his heels. But failed to gain enough height. Catching himself before he toppled into the lake. “Here I am

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Chapter 3 The Dock thinking you’re struggling with my explanations and you pull that one out of the bag. Do you mind if I borrow it?”

“Thanks. It’s all yours.”

“Ok, we can safely say you understand the mechanism for why most things happen, apart from the routine stuff, but then, don’t ignore those routine activities completely. Earlier on, I was trying to be as generic as possible when I spoke of collateral damage and ruthlessness, whether it be indiscriminate or managed. Really, it’s all just life, it’s not confined to the workplace, it can be at home, with neighbours, friends, whilst playing sport or even out on the streets.” Phil pauses, thinking about John’s city workplace scenario. “Just going back to what you said about the manager putting his blinkers on, how often have you read or heard the excuse, ‘I didn’t know what overcame me’ or ‘I definitely wasn’t myself’?”

“Often enough”, John replied.

“I find sayings or common phrases people use quite interesting. We generally pay little attention to them, but they are actually telling us the truth. In the case of those two excuses, the motivation to believe we are essentially good and worthy has the potential to dissociate us completely or at least selectively, from seeing the big picture, seeing the other people in that picture. A bit like the ‘domestic blindness’ husbands are accused of.”

It had been a few hours since John had moved on from requiring stories to keep his attention span going. Phil in ‘TALK’ mode may well be frustrating at times, but it was all he needed.

“This is some truly amazing knowledge you’ve got happening here.”

“Thanks John, I do appreciate you saying that, but we’re not finished yet. Time to do your best to create the big picture of society. Ready?”

“Only if you are.” John wasn’t too sure what Phil was up to, but he was ready for anything.

“Think about people living their lives each day…”

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“Hold on buddy. We’ve been sitting here far too long. My butt needs a break. Want to take a run up the lake? We can find a nice spot, cut the engine and continue the chat. There’s probably an hour and a half of good light left. What do you say?”

Phil had been hoping John would take him out for a run. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”

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With a cough and a splutter, the motor gradually came to life, dispelling Phil’s doubts of ever experiencing John’s lake. “It’ll be serviced over the winter”, John said loudly to Phil as he untied the warps. “It shouldn’t let us down”, he added with a wink.

Phil walked the boat along the dock to the end and with a final push and a jump he was aboard. John waited until they had drifted to turning distance from the end of the dock, engaged gear and they were away. They immediately headed across to the sunnier side of the lake in the lee of the breeze. The water was glassy. The boat planed smoothly, bringing back Phil’s memories of water skiing on his local river when dusk was encroaching and the wind had dropped. His ski would feel slippery as it effortlessly glided across the water under the willows in the enclosing darkness. He remembered it being one of the best feelings back then. Apart from not having skis, Phil doubted if John’s boat could pull a single skier out of the deep water, especially an overweight one who hasn’t skied for twenty‐five years. It was a sixteen‐foot Capri bowrider with an inboard motor. Phil assumed John must have a fondness for the boat. Why else would he own a seventeen‐year old boat and put the effort in to maintaining it as well as it appeared to be, except for the engine. But now it was warmed up it was purring away beautifully.

A few minutes later John eased back on the throttle and cut the engine. They rode the following wake a little further and then all was quiet.

“Feel like a quick dip?” asked John. Phil was about to say he didn’t bring trunks but John beat him to it, producing a bag of trunks in various sizes and patterns. There was little question Phil wanted to dive in. He would swim almost anywhere. A few minutes later they were both in the water, telling each other how cold it was, but loving it all the same. They swam towards the shore some three hundred feet away, but stopped after about a hundred. “That’s it for me”, said John in between gasps for air. “I need the rest of my energy to make it back.”

Phil gently backstroked towards the boat, gazing at the green of the trees meeting the blue of the sky. Now he had spent some energy and warmed up he was enjoying the coolness of the water. He couldn’t believe he was swimming with John Groot in his lake in Upstate New York. Tired from his least favourite stroke, he rolled over and freestyled the rest of the way to the boat.

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The two men made themselves comfortable in the bow seats, letting the late sun warm their pale bodies. John had slipped a few bottles of root beer into the cool box before they had untied. Phil was again enjoying the complex flavours he was unaccustomed to.

“Where were we up to?” asked John, keen to keep going. Phil had asked him to create a big picture in his mind of people living their lives. He had started to do that on the trip across the lake and wanted to go there again to find out what Phil had in store for his big picture. He reminded Phil where they had left off.

“Ok, you have your big picture in your mind.” Phil made himself more comfortable. He was sitting on the cushioned bow seat facing John, who had stretched out as much as his tall frame allowed him. In the storage under the seats were the triangular foam inserts for converting the seats into a bed. John had one against the bulkhead, resting his upper back and head. His cell phone on the gunwale, just within reach. “People are at work, at home, socialising with friends, doing their hobbies, meeting new people and losing touch with old acquaintances. Imagine everything and anything, in your mind create a family, their neighbours, workplaces, a suburb or even a whole city. You’re a satellite and you can zoom in all the way to the individual or out to see just the night lights of the city. You see through roofs and into tall buildings. Allow your mind’s eye to freely jump from person to person and place to place. As you do, I want you to think about two more phrases people use. They are, ‘I want to know what’s important to him’ and ‘I want to know what makes him tick’. Think about what the boss or the wife mean by these and whether they know what they are actually referring to?”

John felt the impulse to answer without hesitation, but Phil had asked him to picture them. He felt sure he knew what they referred to and he thought about the phrases in terms of the people he could see in his big picture. The boss who was sizing up a proven employee for that promotion and then there was the young lawyer, on her first weekend away with her new beau. He saw a sergeant on a three‐ day training exercise, assessing his best recruit and then there were the workmates who came together for a weekly card night, discussing their new work colleague who they may invite.

“Do you still have your big picture of society?”

“Still got it.” John had closed his eyes.

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Phil spoke in his softest voice, slowly, letting the words drift through John’s consciousness. “How people behave in carrying out those things which are important to them, defines who they are. This is the deeper person friends and family come to know Those things that are important to them, create their character. In your big picture you can see the alpha male laughing off the failed spare at the bowling alley, the salesman negotiating with the reluctant client, the married couple arguing over the TV remote, the mother cooking the dish her friend did three nights ago, the shop assistant wanting the customer to buy both, the young men holding up a convenience store, the divorced woman deciding which dress to wear on her first date as a single mother…, you can see whatever comes into your mind and you can see people doing things to satisfy the need to feel they are good, sometimes they must compete with others to achieve their goal, but the desire to feel good spurs them on to win. You see people pursuing their win, ignoring advice because they are blinkered and just want… what they want. You see loving couples, tolerating their partners who are driven blindly to attain their victory. You see those who lose out, convincing themselves their time will be next. Nearly always, there are those close‐by that person who is striving for what is important, what makes them feel they are good and worthy. Are they suffering, are they heard? Do they approve and support or are they searching for tolerance and understanding?” Phil leaves John to watch his big picture and to generate his own scenarios of real life.

After a few minutes John moved out of his imaginary world. “I could see so much. And you know what, I could see it was all about people striving for what they wanted, right down to the little things. Young teenagers, adults, parents, men in suits and women too. I could see the selfishness. It was always obvious, but rarely was it that horrible repugnant selfishness people recognise and turn away from, more like an undercurrent of selfishness, finding its way into everyone. It was present in most people, but hardly anyone was cognisant of it.”

John was amazed by the experience. He had never had anyone talk to him during a meditation, it had really helped him create the different scenes he saw. Phil saw clearly that John had found the exercise rewarding. “Did you see how people were blinkered, how they wouldn’t listen to each other, but if they did, they remained indifferent to what they heard?”

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“I did. A saying came to me…, what was it…, ‘paying lip service’. Yeah, that one came to me.” John was speaking more quickly than normal. He was finally making sense of everything. It had been quite a revelation. “And the answer to your question of what those two phrases actually referred to….”

“Go on”, said Phil.

“Things we do to feel good, to make us feel worthy become the things that are most important to us. They are the very things that make us tick. They are the motivation for us to leave our chair to pick up the object from the floor in the room”, John said referring to Phil’s earlier scenario. “Phil, in my big picture of society it was nearly always the male on a crusade to prove his self‐worth. Could this be because I’m male and can only picture males or is it…, wait, this only just occurred to me…, is it the reason why our society is patriarchal?

Phil laughed. He laughed because he was happy with John and he laughed because John was the first male he had met, who didn’t fiercely protect their patriarchal position. “Could very well be”, agreed Phil. “There’s always the physical difference between males and females to take into account. I’m not disagreeing with you, but some would say its patriarchal because of that. Imagine reversing the roles in your pig picture dream. if it was the males who weren’t being listened too, they could physically impose themselves to ensure they were heard.”

“I see what you mean”, replied John still thinking about it.

Phil went on. “But I do agree with you John. Males are the ones doing most of the ‘crusading’, are physically dominant and are more likely to put blinkers on. I think all three of those factors contribute to the competitiveness of our societies and that in my mind, is the perfect storm for a patriarchal society.

Phil remembered a video he watched a few days ago. “Whilst I was preparing to come here, I watched plenty of YouTube to put me to sleep, Jetlag… There was a real‐life story on YouTube which actually kept me awake. It was about a married couple in their early forties, Mac and Muff, who sailed for a week from Hawaii to a South Pacific atoll. It was Mac’s last adventure that Muff had agreed to do before settling down. Muff probably would have preferred for them not to go, but Mac claimed he needed to do it. They had a ‘pride of the fleet’ ketch with all the bells and whistles and plenty of provisions. Another couple, Buck and Stephanie turned

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Chapter 4 The Lake up at the deserted island a few days later. They were in a crappy boat with nearly no provisions. Mac and Muff extended hospitality to the other two, but as time went on, Muff became quite apprehensive about Buck. Both could see Buck and Stephanie had very little food, having taken to cutting down coconut trees with a chainsaw as a way of harvesting the coconuts. Another boat with two men aboard arrived for a short stopover on their way to New Zealand, but when they observed Buck’s situation and his erratic behaviour, they cut short their intended stay. The two man relayed their fears to Mac as they departed, but Mac assured them he and Muff would be fine. Muff tried desperately to convince Mac they should leave but Mac ignored her pleas, telling her there was nothing to worry about, after all, he was a black belt in karate and had a rather large gun on board. There was nothing Muff could do. She couldn’t overpower Mac and force him to take her home and he sure as hell wouldn’t listen to her. After about a month on the island, Buck killed Mac and Muff and stole their boat.”

“I remember that story, a book was written by one of the lawyers who defended…, the girl…, what was her name? Stephanie, I think.” John could remember reading the book nearly thirty years ago. “I vaguely remember thinking Mac was a stubborn arrogant man who ultimately caused his wife to die. It makes sense now. You have explained the motivation for his refusal to leave the island and his inability to listen to his wife.”

“I watched a few other stories over the few nights and could see the same motivation, a need to feel power and control. Doesn’t matter if it’s that or chasing wealth or glory, it’s all the same…, a blinkered drive to feel good, vainly thinking it means they are a good person. Some don’t care so much about whether they ARE good or not, they are simply desperate just to feel good as a way to relieve the anguish and pain they have inside.”

John was doing his own retrospective thinking. “I’m assessing some of the many stories I’ve read or watched as well. It applies well, some take a little more time, but I’m sure they can be put into context in due course.”

Phil kept building John’s understanding. “It really is an eye opener when you can see just how pervasive selfishness is in human interactions. This is why people come to like or dislike each other, why there are so many negative interactions and why people are retreating from each other. I believe it’s at the point where people only engage in discourse if they must. You can see how married people, with more and 73

Chapter 4 The Lake more exposure to each other’s selfishness due to one or both pursuing what is important to them. They argue and fight, eventually becoming disillusioned and say ‘we have grown apart’. However, there will always by people who adjust to each other and forge friendships, holding on to them, developing tolerance and regulating contact to ensure longevity. But outside of such friendships…, people keep everything at a minimum, unless need determines otherwise.”

John wondered what it would be like if people were not selfish and not driven to compete for that which made them feel good. He thought he would run it past Phil. “If people didn’t have the motivation to do things to feel they are good and worthy, what then…, nothing would happen…, no one would do anything. Would society disintegrate…, what do you think?”

“It’s difficult to imagine a society without those drivers”, replied Phil with a wry grin. “For people like me and possibly yourself who aren’t driven by our egos, it is very difficult to imagine anything but the world we have become attuned to. And I agree, if we remove from everyone that motivation to answer the question ‘am I good or am I bad’, the obvious answer is society would be nothing but people only doing the bare minimum. The great leaps in technology would never occur, education and knowledge would become redundant. We would be just like the animals spending all their time searching for food and once satiated, lie down and rest until hunger or a threat brings us to our feet again. But then, when I think about it a bit more, I ask myself how likely would that alternative be?”

John didn’t like the sound of that, but he couldn’t quite grasp a different one. “I don’t know. You tell me. Paint me another big picture Phil.”

John resumed his previous position and closed his eyes again. Phil had spent many hours over the past year or more thinking about this problem. “I don’t have all the answers, but I will share what I have. If people were selfless, cooperative…, were sensitive and empathetic towards each other, listening to each other and selflessly appraising each other’s contribution, then they would feel integrated with each other. They would feel part of the whole. If they were growing food and another part of that whole was failing, they would share what they had. They would help the people who had difficulty by sharing their knowledge about the land, the nutrients, water needs and all that was required to produce sufficient for their needs. I could see knowledge growing and the need to improve life for everyone leading to developing technologies, such as better farming tools, better transport 74

Chapter 4 The Lake and methods of communication. There would be progression towards mechanisation of activities. The systems of sharing wouldn’t be corrupted by people selfishly stockpiling, benefitting from ‘cornering the market’. People wouldn’t be forced to work long days for low return. I would see people wanting to assist each other, not just their nearest neighbour, but people further away, in other countries for example. Transport would be needed to move people and produce. I believe the cooperative development of solutions would be driven by a far greater power than selfish aggrandisement. Appeasing oneself, being selfish for one’s own ego is self‐limiting. Satisfying the needs of everyone and the selfless driver to create equality within the whole would be a far more powerful driver. People would be integrated with nature. The soil they walk on, the animals they share the air with and depend upon for food, together with the oceans they sail across would all be integrated in the whole. Solutions with minimal detrimental effects on any part of the whole would be much more difficult to achieve than the ad hoc progress of the greed driven ignorance of the selfish humans who have pillaged the planet in the present world. The purity of progress in the alternate cooperative world would advance technology far beyond that which exists today. Progress doesn’t require competition to feed it. Progress would be on an ‘as required’ basis and when it was required it would have many more hands‐on deck selflessly ensuring it is achieved. Protecting the whole would not be an impediment to progress. It would be a motivation incomparable to any we selfish humans experience. It would be without limits, contributed to and shared by everyone. Leadership would be organic. Leaders would not buy their way into positions. They would not use blackmail and wield power to satisfy selfishly driven agendas. Leaders would be those who follow the truth, supported and encouraged by others who are themselves leaders. They would be learned and trusted men and women who are encouraged to go forward by the people they respect and care for. It would be a very different world to the one we are confronted by today.”

John sat there for many minutes, his mind following one path before branching down another, then another. He imagined consensus amongst people. He imagined the happiness at solving a problem for people in a far‐off country. Yes, he could still see people feeling good about themselves, but no longer were they trying to discount the fear they were bad, no…, they were just people without that question anymore. They felt worthy, but they could feel more self‐worth by contributing to the benefit of others, spreading the equality, rejoicing in the lifting up of others. He desperately wanted to be there, but he could only travel there in his imagination.

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John opened his eyes but remained silent, wanting his best ever dream to stay with him as long as it could. A few minutes later with the last of his daydream drifting away, he spoke of his thoughts to Phil. They spent some time exchanging ideas of what the alternative world would be like, building upon each other’s idea, laughing and sharing. John asked how it would be possible but Phil, not ready to share his idea just yet, guided him onto another tangential thought.

“John, I have been developing this way of describing what it is like for people in a selfish world. A way to visualise everything.”

“That would help, because at the moment I get the competitive and the selfish and I see how people value their self‐worth and most of what they do is dedicated to increasing that. A way of putting it all together would help greatly.”

“Ok, I’ll give it a go. I’m still working on this.” Phil waits to allow his thoughts to develop a little further. “In a way it allows me to see both the worlds we just spoke about. You’ll need to let your imagination have wings to see where I’m going. You know how I said everyone is integrated in a world where everyone is working with their souls?”

“Yep, but that concept is still a bit hazy for me”, replied John, genuinely struggling with the idea of all living things being integrated, operating as one.

“In our selfish world everyone is also integrated, but not in a good way. It’s more like connected rather than integrated, but not always of their own volition, quite often unwillingly and sometimes with a mix of willing and reluctance. I guess that gives meaning to ‘taking the good with the bad’. Phil pauses and wonders if he’s making sense. He looks at John’s face and realises he isn’t. “I know, it’s not helping any just yet, but give me time to unravel this.” Phil could picture it in his mind but was not finding a good place to start.

He pushed on. “Think of this mostly unwanted integration as bungee ropes between people. You know…, those elastic straps people wrap around their ankles and jump off bridges with?”

“Yep, like in New Zealand”, John said, knowing exactly what Phil meant.

“Right. Let’s imagine Bob…, Bob the Builder for instance,” Phil says apologetically. “Bob has all these invisible but slender bungee ropes connecting him to everyone

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Chapter 4 The Lake he interacts with. This includes family, work, people he hasn’t even met but who have a claim on him, like the account’s people in his utilities, medical insurance, bank, materials supplier and so on. In a selfish and competitive world, all those bungee ropes are tight at different times, when the other people want something from him, they pull on their bungee rope. Bob has bungee ropes attached to others that he pulls on when he wants something from them. If a person wants to give Bob something, selflessly, they push on the bungee rope. What do you think happens?”

“Nothing, the bungee goes loose”, John answered.

“But if a person does something apparently selfless for Bob, there is the IOU or the future ‘want in return’ incorporated in the interaction. This keeps the bungee in tension, because Bob knows he will be required to return the favour at a later date.”

“That’s easy enough to imagine”, John said as he pictured all the bungee ropes tightening at different times during a day in Bob’s life. “The end of each month must be a bad time for Bob. Everyone wanting him to pay accounts off, his workers wanting their wages and Bob wanting his clients to pay up. He must feel as if he is being torn apart.”

“Now you’re seeing it”, Phil said excitedly. “You’re seeing how people develop stress and animosity towards each other. Bob is as selfish as the next person. He doesn’t want to pay money out, he doesn’t want to work extra‐long days because Mister and Misters Fitzpatrick want their house extension finished before Easter. He doesn’t want to spend Sunday trimming the trees ready for his son’s fifth birthday party the following weekend. There is always someone wanting something from him and he just desires above all else, to do what he wants, what makes him feel good and worthwhile. Sure, he feels his self‐worth is good every time he makes a customer happy and they pay their invoice, but all those bungee ropes keep pulling at him, even his clients pull back when he pulls on their bungee for payment. He must compete to be paid by his clients. He must compete with his workers to have them do the job the way he wants and efficiently. He’s competing with most of the people holding the bungee ropes attached to him.”

“I like this Phil. I can see everyone is attached to their own circle of others and each one of them to their own circle. It is like spider web after spider web, all connected. If a person at the end of one of Bob’s bungee ropes pulls hard, it can affect some of the others attached to Bob. It can then affect some of the others attached to Bob’s

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Chapter 4 The Lake others and so on. If Bob is in Kansas, a person in Minneapolis three times removed from Bob…, doesn’t even know Bob, can find himself affected by a tiny ripple in the web that emanated from Bob.”

“No flies on you.” Phil had been concerned his way of visualising humanity in action may not work. “You’ve taken to this like a rat up a drainpipe. .... You can obviously see what I mean by everyone is integrated. However, since most of the actions on Bob’s bungee ropes, and everyone else’s bungee ropes is driven by want, by that I mean, selfishness…., the accumulative effect is overwhelmingly negative and really isn’t an integration at all. Integration infers it is desired, but no one wants these connections. Some will enjoy them, it makes them feel important that someone wants from them, but most would want out. Like I said, there are positive selfless interactions, but the future payback is piggybacked and collectively they do little to reduce the overall negativity of the multitude of negative interactions.”

John was off and running with Phil’s visualisation. “I just asked myself ‘where does the positivity in people’s lives come from to balance all this negative stuff?’. I straight away had the answer. Some is generated by good interactions between people when neither are wanting from each other…, then I thought about that, it would be rare. I then realised most of it comes from what people do for themselves and often by themselves to feel good. All this enforced ‘giving’ they must do for their bungee rope lives adds to their motivation to do things totally for themselves. I’m thinking of golf, fishing, building model tall ships and shoving them into bottles…, you know, all the hobbies. Maybe that’s why I don’t do much, I don’t have people with bungee ropes attached to me, yanking away on them whenever they want something.”

“And it contributes to people wanting to live off the grid.” Phil carried on where John left off. They want to go bush in Australia or over here in this neck of the woods, they want to live in Alaska or move to an island in the South Pacific or just live on a boat and sail wherever the wind takes them. People crave to have as many of those bungee ropes as they can, go slack or even cut away. It’s clear to me why people hold back from each other, from taking on new people as friends or acquaintances? They know if they let them in, they will just end up having another bungee rope latched on and sooner or later, it will be pulling away.”

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“Phil, I commend you for this way of looking at humanity. I can see myself thinking about everything in terms of bungee ropes. But you said it would tell me about the alternate world we dreamed about. How can bungee ropes work in that one?”

“They don’t.”

“Then what?”, John asked, trying to think what Phil might say.

“They have tubes instead of bungee ropes. They have tubes they can extend out to another person and send whatever they want to give, down the tubes. People like having tubes connected to them because all sorts of things come down the tubes. As well as all the necessary things, they can also give and receive empathy, understanding, caring and of course selfless love. Mister and Misters Fitzpatrick are happy to send their payment down the tube because they know Bob had worked hard. They know he wants them to have the best house extension as he can build and they can see he has tried to achieve just that. They see that Bob, along with his worker, had been desperate to finish by Easter as asked. They see he has had some setbacks and done extra to rectify them and they know his suppliers and workers need to be paid. Bob experiences much more fulfilment from doing his work and although all the same requirements from him are still there as they were in the bungee rope world, he knows everyone is understanding and not wanting him to be something for them all the time. He wants to trim the trees because he sees it as giving something special to his five‐year old son. He wants to pay the utilities because they need the money to keep everything going and he knows they are working hard to keep the prices as low as possible. He doesn’t feel all the tubes attached to him are pulling at him and his life is much less stressful. He doesn’t need to push the tubes away and do things just for himself because he doesn’t need to make himself feel good. He is good and he feels worthy, all the time.”

John thought about Phil’s tubes. He imagined they didn’t need to be connected all the time. A person could extend their tube to give and pull it back when they have finished. Everyone was still integrated because at any time they can extend their tube to another and that other person isn’t going to hide or push the tube away. No longer do people fear being attached to another person, in fact they enjoy it because it is nearly always a positive experience. John is actually seeing the meaning of integration Phil was talking about earlier. “I was just thinking”, he began. “Mister and Misters Fitzpatrick didn’t need that extension because their

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Chapter 4 The Lake house is big enough and they were wanting it to make themselves feel good by having a bigger house. Does that mean Bob has less work?”

Phil had his answer ready. “Miss Smith lives in a little house with one bedroom and has not long become pregnant with twins. No longer is she paid a pittance and scrounging tips to survive, she has a fair wage and regular work. The bank is operated by people who are very understanding and cooperative towards their customer’s needs because their customers own the bank. Not as shareholders demanding a return on money invested, but just because society is no longer a selfishly driven capitalist society. Miss Smith asks Bob to build her a bedroom, bathroom and playroom for the twins.”

“You have it all worked out, don’t you Phil?”

“Hardly”, came Phil’s response.

When the conversation reached a natural conclusion, Phil asked John for his thoughts on the real world, today’s world. He had shown John the selfish, ego driven world he lived in, given him a glimpse of a world largely devoid of selfishness, but now he wanted to re‐immerse him back into reality. “Is there anything about today’s society you are troubled by or you fear?”

“The preoccupation with Doomsday”, replied John.

“Topical. It says so much about mankind. Why Doomsday?”

“Before I answer that, we should get underway again.” John put his shirt on and fired the engine up. It started easily. They headed further up the lake, slowly to allow themselves to be heard. It was an inboard engine and was well sound proofed. John had requested that of his marine engineer some years back during a winter’s servicing.

John shared his thoughts on doomsday, stopping every so often to show Phil points of interest along the way. “For a number of years, I have read books, watched movies or TV series depicting post‐apocalyptic scenarios. Be it meteors hitting the planet, virus plagues creating zombies, nuclear holocaust, machines destroying mankind or alien invasions, you name it and the entertainment industry have explored it and are still finding new avenues to bring these horrors to us. I love them all. I really am a sci‐fi tragic. It may be fiction but there must be an inescapable

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Chapter 4 The Lake reality embedded in it to justify its popularity. Maybe you’ve just answered that, but we’ll see. I don’t know about Australia but in this country, people dig big holes on their property and create bunkers where they can live through a catastrophe, one they truly believe is inevitable. Hard to believe but new houses and condos have an extra room which only a few years ago was an afterthought for the rich and famous. These are ‘panic’ rooms or ‘safe’ rooms in the centre of the house. Now we have developers with options such as bunkers built below the house and self‐ storage companies have evolved to offer bunkers for rent in secret locations. Some developers are including one to two years rental of a bunker with every new condo. Google ‘dooms day bunker’ and for the next week you will be plagued with adverts for aftermarket panic rooms, rental bunkers, survival courses, food preservation and hydroponic start‐up kits.”

Phil agreed with John. He had also viewed American ‘Doomsday’ documentaries. He recalled a movie called ‘The Purge’ based on a fictitious law in America allowing people to kill anyone they wished on one particular night each year. He questioned if society’s consciousness had become aware of the safe room because of the depiction of one in that movie and others since. Phil spoke about a serial from a few years before called ‘The Walking Dead’. He explained his interest in that particular series was how the writers depicted the difficulty for humans to trust each other in a lawless world. The surviving humans elected to form small groups or were subordinated into larger groups under a self‐imposed dictator‐type ruler. Ultimately, more humans were killed by other humans than they were by Zombies. The Zombies were something to be aware of just like early man was aware of the sabre‐tooth tiger. The real fear though, came from other humans. Phil questioned if they were only the creations of fertile imaginations, or did they have one foot in reality and that was the appeal to the ravenous consumers? Phil also wondered if they were written by socially aware writers who were creating stories to showcase humanities behaviour, which they observed every day in the course of simply living in today’s society. In the case of the lawless world of ‘The Walking Dead’, Phil made comparisons with those city suburbs where implementing the law had become nearly impossible. He asked himself if this could be where the writers found their inspiration?

“I have a question for you John. Why do you think preparing for a catastrophe has migrated from the doomsday fanatics to mainstream consciousness?

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“I have thought about this, as you may imagine. It is one of my pet topics. Out here I’m not faced with the problems we see elsewhere, predominantly in the cities. Shootings, car jackings, home invasions and excessive gun crime on the streets has escalated in the past few years. I believe a major cause is desperation. America was once an affluent country. Actually, it still is but the wealth was much better spread than it is today. America’s wealth is increasingly more concentrated in the top percentile brackets. Look at me, I’m one of them. As they say, the wealthy are becoming wealthier and the poor, poorer. Guilty as charged officer. When people cannot find work, have no money and need to feed themselves the law becomes less of a deterrent. I also believe the authorities are inundated with cases to solve. When they are overwhelmed, they become more tolerant of carrying unsolved cases which leads to lower motivation and lower clearance rates…, as they say in CSI. People know this. It is a double‐edged sword. The perps fear the law less which means a lower perception of risks. Those on the other side of town who have money, are increasingly under attack and the authorities cannot reverse the trend. With few alternatives those people use their own resources for protection. Guns, panic rooms and bunker sales are increasing year on year. There are more vigilantes and organised vigilante groups than ever before. Some say the police are leaking information to the vigilantes. I read informed commentators who believe it has passed the threshold of no return. This is people’s worst fear. It ain’t going to get any better. Fear is driving the market for panic rooms, bunkers, bodyguards, weapons, survival gear and…well most things like that.”

Phil had found John’s social conscience. He knew John was aware of the world beyond his house in the woods but didn’t know he had this passion. Phil wondered if John felt a threat was heading his way. He lived in the woods but he was only forty minutes from a town and an hour or two from a city. Does he see desperation driving people beyond the cities to satisfy their needs? More than is already happening? Phil would like to know.

“This is important to you isn’t it? Where is your concern coming from?”

“Disparity for starters. When my mother first brought us here, it was different to living in the city, but I didn’t really notice it. There had always been the city way of thinking and the country way of thinking. But the disparity in those two ways of thinking has grown because of the rapid changes in city living. You have mentioned that as well. We country folk can hardly relate to the city way of thinking anymore,

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Chapter 4 The Lake it is really quite scary. The young grow up streetwise like Tarzan did in the jungle. I haven’t grown up with the crime at my doorstep, so I fear it. I wouldn’t know what to do if it came here. There are some really bad areas in most of the larger cities in America. These areas are expanding, some slowly, some faster. What happens when those in the city with wealth solve the issues of protection and become impregnable to the perps? Will it push the people in need, the desperate people, the perps, into the country? Will I have to build safe rooms, build fences, install cameras and hire security just to keep living here? In other words, do I turn it into a fortified compound? Build a moat. Think about this. A more determined perp could hijack a PAV in a city not too far from here and within twenty minutes be at my door, armed and demanding money. No longer do they care if money is on the property, they take you to it or make you do a bank transfer. Some even carry a card swipe. Invading the country areas may not be in their psyche just yet, but it will be.”

“I see your point. Although crime is an increasing issue back in Australia it is way short of what is happening here. Are their options which can alleviate your concern, at least in the short term?”, Phil asked.

“None currently. Corporations are going down a path which is largely solving their problems, even though it is not an ideal direction for society to be heading.”

“What are they doing, I don’t think I know about this?” Phil’s curiosity drawing him in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. Corporations, medium‐sized, not the big boys yet, use eminent domain power and ‘persuasion’ to buy up small towns or suburbs and relocate. They take advantage of tax breaks which seem to come out of nowhere. They buy all the land and properties, even the businesses and bulldoze anything surplus to requirement. Next, they build the head office or research centre and construct a corporate town around it to house the employees”, John explained.

Phil marvelled at the ingenuity of it all, even though it was a sad indictment of society. “I can see why and see the advantages as well. I assume they have their own security which is tailored to the corporate needs encompassing general police work as well.”

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“Goes beyond that” says John. “They protect their employees against intellectual property theft by monitoring employee contact to the outside. I’m not familiar with Australia, but in America Wall Street..., well, it is everything. Having insider knowledge is the edge investors will pay for. Extortion, blackmail and even kidnapping are used to gain this information. Corporations need to protect their employees 24/7, not just during office hours. I can see these corporate towns becoming walled cities in the future. Cyber security is better as well because they lay their own optics, keeping them separate from the outside world. All traffic goes through a single feed to reach the outside, extremely well firewalled and closely monitored. They achieve their aim of people working from home in complete safety.”

The roles had reversed. Phil was hanging onto John’s every word. Listening to his fascinating story. “Both incredible and horrifying”, Phil said. “I can only assume there are political deals, backhanders and manipulation of the law involved. All driven by competition of course. You surprise me John, where did all this come from?”

“I have had business gurus coming to me for years with these stories, trying to have me invest in start‐ups to build panic rooms for the wealthy, even new fully secured enclaves…, you name it, I have been offered a chance to be part of it.” Then John added. “As I was telling you about all this, I was thinking at the same time about all the things we’ve spoken about. I can see it was all driven by competition, the wealthy wanting to make money out of selling security to the wealthy and the competition created through the desperation of the increasing poor. I see it all now, Phil. I see the selfishness. I see why the dystopian stories come to be and I also understand why people fear artificial intelligence. They believe it will be a more powerful, more intelligent version of themselves, competing against them and winning.”

“I agree, it’s a sombre outlook”, said Phil

John saw the break in the conversation as an opportunity to open the throttle. The boat picked itself up, mounted the bow wave and found its plane. They were skittling along at a good twenty miles per hour. “Nearly top speed”, John said loudly. Phil stood up to feel the wind in his face. It had been years since he had been on the water. He felt the same exhilaration he had as a young boy.

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The light was fading and the top of the lake was too far away. John kept the throttle down, taking a large sweeping turn across the lake and pointed the boat for home.

On the return leg John began going over the day’s discussions. He could feel he was eager to make the next step. He sensed he was in Phil’s world of seeing the competitiveness and selfishness within mankind, but there was still the issue of comprehending the concept of a competitive driver, motivated by the need to feel oneself was good and to have self‐worth. How do adults arrive in the position of having to ask whether they are intrinsically good or bad? He had read many books about the so‐called meaning of life and questioned whether this was involved. Maybe Phil was simply reworking that question, but for what purpose? He wanted to ask Phil if this was the case, but thought it best to wait until they were back at the dock.

John gently eased his boat into its pen. Phil dropped the fenders over the sides and stepped onto the dock. John cut the engine and all was quiet. Patsy, who had disappeared before John and Phil had departed up the lake, had heard the engine approach and was waiting on the bridge. She was a clever dog. She was urging John to follow her. It was past her dinner time. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains but there were still remnants of daylight at the dock.

John stepped ashore with his clothes bundled under his arm and they headed off in Patsy’s direction. It was gloomy amongst the trees but they were soon on the grass where the light was stronger. John stopped at the foot of the steps up to the house, he couldn’t wait any longer. “I think it’s time you take me further”, he began. “I agree, humans are competitive and probably…, mostly selfish. I am still a little dubious about the self‐worth thing, but I understand what you have explained to me so far. I see it as another way of saying humans are searching for the meaning of life. I don’t know if you agree or disagree. However, it’s over to you Phil. Are you ready to let me in?”

Phil was not daunted by John. He was impressed though. His appetite had been wetted and now he was wanting more. “What if I told you a new born baby is not born selfishly competitive?”

“I would most likely agree.”

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The porch lights were starting to take over from the receding daylight. John was looking towards the setting sun and Phil could see clarity in John’s eyes, hoping it would remain when he told him his idea. “What if I also told you children gradually become competitive as the adult world invades their world, imposing itself upon the lives of children?”

“I would agree to that as well”, replied John.

Phil decided to go all the way. “Then would you agree mothers are vital in stopping the adult world from its brutal disruption of childhood? The nurturing of their children and guarding them against influence from the adult world are critical roles for a mother. And that these roles have been eroded over the centuries, more so in recent generations. How do you feel about that?”

“I would agree again. I was fortunate to have a truly great mother. I know I was nurtured and protected. I have occasions where I dislike who I am. During those moments I blame it all on my childhood, I see myself as having been made a prisoner to this lifestyle. But then I loved my mother and I remind myself of what is happening in the world and question whether I would be happy if I were one of those wealthy men, chasing more and more wealth. I do realise how so very lucky I am. I don’t care about building mountains of money, I never have. I don’t even know how much goes into my bank. I don’t feel a need to compete, but I would like to know if I do anything out of a need to convince myself I am a good person? I do help people, but am I searching for my self‐worth? I don’t know the answer but I can’t feel it in me that I do those things for the reasons we have been discussing. This is why I agree with you, a mother’s role in nurturing their children is critical and if you say it has been eroded then I probably agree to that too, because adults these days are not very good.”

Phil almost lost his grip on his emotions whilst listening to John. At that moment he knew John was the person he was looking for, he just had to be. “I have an idea to overcome the failures in children being nurtured and protected. Retraining mothers is not an option, just as teaching adults to stop influencing children is a highly improbable sugg….”

“So, what else is left?”, said John abruptly.

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Phil was looking up at John. He could see John was the most serious he had been all day.

“We train an artificial intelligence to nurture children.”

John was dumbfounded. He stepped away from Phil and walked about ten paces, stopped and turned. “You know it sounds crazy”, he said with a look of disbelief. He walked back towards Phil, stopping where he had stood previously. “Don’t take me the wrong way, but what did you have in mind? AI robots dressed in maternity smocks, knocking on doors and saying ‘I’m here to nurture your child’.”

“That isn’t exactly what I envisaged, but now that you mention it……”

“Come on Phil, AIs have only just learnt to drive cars. I like you…, I really do…, but don’t you think your idea may be a touch bonkers?”

Phil had expected John to find his idea a little left field. “That’s what government bureaucrats thought about the Wright Brothers before their first successful flight”, he replied.

“No Phil, they didn’t say the idea was bonkers, they said the Wright brothers were crackpots.”

“Semantics. Hear me out. There is no need for robots. Children as young as eight use cell phones. Parents are reluctant to give children cell phones because of all the bad stuff on the internet. What if it was only for talking with an AI, a really good AI? One who can be their friend, answer their questions, provide emotional support and…”, Phil knew this one was controversial. “…reverse the effects of adults on their world? Can’t you see, a program that does nothing but good, ensures the child becomes a better adult. What is there to not like about that?”

John was unconvinced. He still saw Phil as a deep thinker, but he was also on the wrong side of being a crackpot. He had watched some of the latest science fiction shows on television and had asked himself if AI would ever approach what he saw on his screen. Maybe this is how it does, he thought. Maybe Phil is opening a door for him to create a new future for humanity. It sounded good, if not a bit fanciful, but he still couldn’t convince himself. He definitely needed time. “Phil, let me believe you are crazy until I think more about what you are suggesting.”

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“There you go, that’s the spirit.” Phil was well pleased.

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Chapter 5 Dinner

Phil was exhausted. John had shown him to one of the guest bedrooms on the upper floor. He would be about an hour feeding Patsy, preparing dinner and catching up on messages. Phil lay down for a few minutes rest as it had been an extraordinarily long day, an incredible day. He still found it hard to believe he had actually taken John on his journey, told him his idea and was still here. Laying on a bed in his house as well. He felt so very humbled. He was just an ordinary Aussie bloke and he had made friends with an American who could be on a member of the Forbes ‘Three Comma Club’, if anyone could work out what he owned. Phil felt a sense of achievement because he had not found anyone back home who would listen to him. He spoke quietly to himself, “I’m just going to close my eyes, have a quick nap and when I wake up, I will check if today has really happened”.

Phil was woken by John an hour later.

“I am so sorry, I just lay down for a minute to rest and must have fallen asleep, I really am sorry”, Phil apologised profusely as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“It’s OK. It gave me time to do some of the things I needed to do. Dinner is ready any time you are.”

Phil joined John about ten minutes later to the heady smells of roast chicken and corn on the cob. There were a mix of steamed vegetables, roasted potato and home‐made gravy. Phil adored home‐made gravy on roast potatoes.

“This is awesome. You really do have a life worth living.”

John held up an empty glass, “Drink?”

“Yes please”, Phil replied enthusiastically.

“What will it be? Beer? I know you Aussies…how do you say it… ‘hate a beer’?”

“I reckon I could murder a cold one”, says Phil with a big Aussie grin on his face.

It was Phil’s first genuine American home‐cooked meal and since he had decided to watch his spending, his first decent meal for over a week. There were no bells and whistles. Simple crockery and utensils on a table which was old and solid, probably 89

Chapter 5 Dinner oak. The chairs were more modern, most likely because the previous chairs had broken some years ago. Condiments and sauces were home‐made, some with the patch of cloth over the lid as home preservers like to do. They glistened with condensation, having come straight from the refrigerator. No placemats or drink coasters here. An open packet of napkins lay to one side.

“Did you prepare all this whilst I was sleeping?”, Phil asks whilst sitting down. He watched John delicately cutting the chicken into pieces.

“Breast or thigh?”

“Thigh thanks John…., and a little of breast”, he added cheekily.

“No and yes, in answer to your question. You will discover much on our tour tomorrow morning. Potatoes?”

“Yes please”, Phil reached for the gravy, rich and thick exactly how he liked it.

“South east through the woods is about twenty‐five acres of farmed land next to the stream. When father bought the property, the land was becoming overgrown. All will be revealed tomorrow. ...How’s that corn?”

“Brilliant. I could’ve survived well enough on just this corn for dinner, it’s so sweet”, says Phil, his next bite spraying and squirting juice in all directions.

“There was a farmer’s cottage and a few other dilapidated buildings. All but a handful of acres stayed that way for most of my growing up years. I explored the old house many times as a boy.”

“I would have loved doing that. I was a boy explorer every summer at our holiday house in the bush by the coast,” Phil said between mouthfuls. “Sorry to interrupt, go on. Could you pass one of those napkins, please.”

“Thomas and Adel have been farming that corner of the property for nearly a decade. They keep me stocked with vegetables, fruit, herbs, goat’s milk and cheeses, chicken and, pork. You name it and I betcha’ they’ll grow it. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.”

“Did they cook this food too?”, asked Phil a little sheepishly in case he offended John, even though he deduced an hour was not enough time to cook a chicken to 90

Chapter 5 Dinner this perfection. It had obviously been slow cooked and lovingly basted. “Those greens are really good and not overcooked either.”

“Thomas and Adel are great cooks. We have an arrangement. They help me out with meals for guests and stock my pantry with fruit, fresh vegetables, freshly butchered meats and eggs. All the good stuff so I ain’t having to go into town all the time.”

“That sounds like a deal you organised”, teases Phil.

“Oh, I get you Phil, I get you. They get to live on this beautiful property, if that was where you were going”, counters John.

“No offence intended.”

“None taken. There’s always tomorrow. You’ll need to be watching extra careful tomorrow.” Threatens John with a grin that consumed his whole face.

Phil shifted the conversation sideways. “So tomorrow I will be thanking them for today’s lunch as well?”

“You sure can. They were Thomas’s specialty. His great grandfather emigrated from Germany. Thomas is a great guy. He’s an all‐American boy scout kind of guy but keeps his German traditions alive where he can. Anyway, who would turn down a pulled pork and sauerkraut sub?” John asked as he licked gravy from his lower lip.

Phil was carving into the chicken thigh, starting with the oyster He loved the Parson’s nose, but considered the oysters to be the best part of a chicken. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you have a flag out the front? It seems to be what Americans do. Probably more than any other country.”

“I don’t need to remind myself I’m an American. I sometimes wonder if that is why others have a flag. You have to be a really proud American to have one”, says John partly tongue‐in‐cheek and partly serious.

“And you’re not proud?”

“I am, but not so much. If I had a Stars and Stripes out there do you think you would have said all that stuff about war and projection of power to shape world trade to suit America?”, John challenges. 91

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“Probably, but it may have shortened my stay somewhat”, Phil said with a chuckle.

“I want to keep a low profile, don’t want any of those perps coming from the city using a big red and blue flag as a landing beacon, do I now?” said John revisiting his fears in a light‐hearted way.

Phil was really enjoying his chicken. Back in Australia Phil bought marinated chickens because he found the plain chickens flavourless and needed excessive seasoning or a generous smothering of gravy. This chicken had all the flavour he had been searching for, without the need for herbs and spices or gravy.

The camaraderie continued through to the end of dinner. They tossed bits and pieces of the day’s conversation around but nothing too ground breaking. The apple pie with goat’s milk custard cooked by Thomas and Adel was divine. “They knew pastry too”, Phil remarked to himself. Phil was not a pie pastry enthusiast, especially heavy shortcrust. Adel’s pastry dissolved into the apple to create the most wonderful texture and flavour. He wondered how he could ever go back to the Aldi freezer specials he occasioned in Australia. Phil thought he must take one of Thomas and Adel’s pies back for Aldi management to try, purely for educational purposes of course.

Dinner came to an end only after Phil had his second helping of pie. The conversation moved into the kitchen, where Phil wasn’t surprised to discover the absent dishwasher. Phil believed every American home included a dishwasher. After all, Josephine Cochran of Illinois was the mother of the invention. Privately, Phil was happy John did not own a dishwasher. It was one machine he had steadfastly refused to ever own. He thought it would be silly to read anything into it.

Phil washed whilst John dried, returning everything to their as he did. When the last utensils were properly stored, both men returned to the living room, dropping into a pair of club chairs the leather of which was well softened from years of use. Phil allowed his body to sink into the chair and as he did, he felt the remaining tension from the day drain away. It had been a big day. He was thankful for his earlier nap especially following a near sleepless night. He had departed the City just before seven that morning. He was also thankful for the driverless car, which appeared to be almost universal in this part of the world. It had taken him a little longer than he

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John had allowed Patsy into the house once all was finished. She settled quickly after a fruitless forage under the table, chairs and a search of the kitchen floor.

John had put Phil’s big idea out of his mind for the time being. He thought it best to let everything they had discussed settle in. He was sure he would be able to revisit Phil’s idea once his confusion abated and his questions were answered. He had been holding onto a question until dinner was over. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I am still unsure about this concept of human drivers you have thrown my way. I have trawled my memories of books. I even did a quick google while you were snoozing. There’s not much in the way of drivers to explain human behaviour. At least not in the way you use them. I’m not making much headway, but I intend doing a more thorough search and read whatever I can find. I would also need to look at behaviour in light of your belief the human driver is predominantly competitive.”

Phil accepted John’s reservations as normal and somewhat healthy. “I’ll give you some books to track down which will help. I agree. it’s not a straightforward concept. Takes a while to wrap your head around. Most people cannot face thinking about it. When it’s more appropriate, maybe tomorrow, I will explain to you the origins of the drivers. When you know that I think your mind will rest easier.”

“You said earlier it was difficult for people to think about..., and I meant to ask you then. Why is it difficult?” John asked, genuinely wanting to find that key understanding.

“You know, last time I attempted to answer that very question, the person found my explanation quite confronting. I was accused of ‘gaslighting’. I’m not so sure I was. I may have been protective, but not gaslighting. Anyway, the answer requires acceptance that the conscious mind has limitations in its ability to conceptualise. That is the hurdle for most.”

“Try me”, John asked, hoping Phil would rise to the challenge.

“I will. I had decided earlier that I would. In fact, if you are ever going to appreciate my idea for artificial intelligence, I really must take you down this path. I will start at the beginning. It all commences with children. Let me grab my tablet and I’ll show

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Chapter 5 Dinner you.” Phil had earlier brought it downstairs. He played a YouTube video showing how a child was wanting to join in with adults, helping them and readily responding to instructions. He played a few more, they were only a few minutes each, then googled ‘are children naturally cooperative’, showing John the almost endless websites containing research and commentary on children being cooperative and selfless.

‘Fascinating’ and ‘incredible’, were some of the ways John described what he saw.

“People say children are competitive but they’re not. They only learn to be competitive through interaction with adults. When children play competitive sports at a very young age you will notice the children who play the sport more successfully are the ones who learn to be competitive the earliest. They may not be the children with the most suitable physique, the fastest runner or the best co‐ordination, but once they grasp the concept of competing, they outperform all the other children who are still cooperative.”

John was gently nodding as Phil spoke. “That sounds reasonable enough”, he said.

“Let me tell you one of my earliest memories.” Phil always found it peculiar how seemingly unimportant memories had stayed with and yet he no recollection of supposedly important events. My brother told me I was not yet five years old when this occurred. It was my father’s fishing club Christmas party in a local hall and we were playing musical chairs. Every time the music stopped; I would see someone without a chair so I gave them mine. I remember someone collecting me before the next round of music started, taking me aside and telling me I had to sit in the chair and not give it away.”

“Did you go back to the game and do what you were instructed?”

“I don’t have any memory after that. But I do remember playing tip football when I was a year or two older. There were older children and young adults. I had the ball and someone was running towards me with his hand out, so I passed him the ball. Everyone stopped and they tried to teach me how to play, telling me he was opposition and I had to run away from him, not give him the ball. I’m pretty sure it made little difference because I kept throwing the ball to anyone who called for it. I didn’t have any concept of competition and so the idea of an opposing team was beyond me. The point of my story is that children develop the ability to compete at

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“I’ll go along with that”, John said

“There is something else I remember from late., When I was in junior school, I saw children who were much better at sport than others, certainly much better than me. They were moved to a higher age group to protect the other children who were still running around aimlessly, with little idea of what they were doing. I guess those were the ones, like myself, who were trying to compete to please the teacher. Competing obviously hadn’t yet clicked. In hindsight, I think the adults were happy enough with the chaos, as long as there were no injuries and the children did some exercise.”

“I could imagine it. I have never been much of a sportsman myself, as you may have already discovered.”

“I did. I haven’t seen a single trophy, medal, certificate or ribbon anywhere in your house. In fact, there is nothing to say you attended a school, which I know you didn’t. It’s far from what American movies portray as a typical American house where children lived.”

“Even if I had any, I probably would have thrown them in a box long ago. Before you go on, Phil, I have a question. If a child never learns to be competitive, can they still behave competitively when they are older?” It seemed logical to John that they would, just to fit in. He just wanted to hear Phil’s explanation.

“But before you answer…, another beer?”

“Don’t mind if I do”, replied Phil. John quickly retrieved Phil a beer and returned with the remainder of his bottle of bourbon.

“I’m ready now”, John said as he stoppered his bottle of Elijah Craig.

“Don’t mind this beer.” Phil took another gulp before carrying on their discussion. “In answer to your question. A child who has never learned to be competitive…, or should I say, has never become competitive, will be able to do competitive activities, such as sport. They just won’t be competitive in the way we have been talking about earlier today. Competition as I see it played out, means a person is

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Chapter 5 Dinner wanting to gain or achieve a result for themselves. If a child remains selfless and cooperative into adulthood then it is hard to be wanting to compete for personal gain. Selfless people compete in sport because they enjoy the skills required and the thrill of what they can do. If they are in a team sport, they compete for their team mates more than themselves. People who have lost the childhood cooperativeness and selflessness may appear to be selfless, but if you drill down a bit further there is a benefit or gain for themselves, even if it appears to be for the team. It’s part of knowing they must be doing it for the team. Logic would have us believe a person needs to be selfish to genuinely compete. But it is all about degrees of selfishness. Selfishness is driven by egocentricity.”

“Which is?” John asked.

“It is when a person relates everything to themselves. Ego means conscious thinking self and centric is centred. Egocentric means a person’s conscious self or intellect is focused on that person’s self. I describe it with this little anecdote. If Peter asks Mary to do something for him, Mary asks herself, “Is this good for me?” It is like a computer diagram with Yes/No gates sending the inquiry down different pathways. Mary deems it might be good for her, or at least not bad. She gives it a ‘Yes’ value and sends it to the next gate. Mary now asks, “What’s in it for me?” and if she sees something of value in it for her then it goes through that gate and on for final approval. Mary tells Peter she will comply with his request.” Phil waits letting John work through it, then he asks, “You with me so far, John?”

“It’s fairly simple, go on”, replies John

“Now Peter has already gone through the same thought process as if he was Mary. Remembering he was the one who asked Mary to do something and he wants to second guess Mary’s answer in advance. He does this by imagining what Mary’s response would be. When he comes to “What’s in it for me?” he is stumped because he cannot think what she will find of value or gain for herself. This is because Peter is also egocentric and can only see it from his own point of view, unable to imagine what is in his request that Mary would find useful for herself. So, he imagines other things he knows would appeal to Mary. These are the enticements he will dangle in front of her, ‘assisting’ her to choose the ‘Yes’ gate when she asks herself “What’s in it for me?”. If Peter is successful in having Mary help him, then he could be described as being persuasive.

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John pictured it easily. “I’m sure if Peter didn’t have incentives, Mary would’ve put it to Peter, ‘if I do that for you, then you can do this for me’”, he suggested.

“If she was egocentric”, replied Phil. “It’s easy enough to picture egocentricity as a filter where all inputs are assessed as to whether it is good or bad for the person doing the assessing, advantageous or not, pleasurable or not and so on. An egocentric person is looking for the answers to suit what they want and all but ignoring how the other person sees it.”

“Would you say, a necessary filter for survival?”, John asked.

“In today’s world, absolutely”, says Phil. “But that’s only part of the system. Think of this as the same as when the computer CPU first went from single core to dual core all those years ago. Each core could do separate jobs. A better system is a dual filter system. One filter is the egocentric filter and the other is the non‐egocentric filter. This second filter does the same thing, except it looks outward, not inward. It considers other people. Let’s say Peter has a dual filter system in his brain, that is, he has both filters. The non‐egocentric filter asks the question, ‘is it good for them?’ or ‘is it good for anyone else other than me?’. After receiving the thumbs up, the non‐egocentric filter goes to the next gate where the question is, “What’s in it for them?”. If you can get your head around it, you soon see the complexity and the potential for conflict if the results from both filters were given equal weighting for the final combined decision. For instance, the egocentric filter may determine its good and there is something in it for Peter, whilst the non‐egocentric filter says ‘No’ to the question ‘is it good for them?’. The egocentric filter tells Peter ‘Yes’ do it, whilst the non‐egocentric filter, thinking of others, says ’No’ don’t do it.”

John does a shake of the head in disbelief. “Where did you find all this stuff?”, he asked. “I mean, this two‐filter story sounds complex, but once you work with it…, it’s just…, wow…, it makes it so clear what is going on in our heads. I’m going to go out on a limb here and predict what Peter does and why…. Phil, are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Peter is egocentric and the decision he is making is one of those that will give him a win and make him feel he is good and worthy. He listens to his egocentric filter only and gives it the thumbs up.”

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“Good answer”, said Phil, “…And the source of most conflict between people, I might add.”

John carries on. “Peter is not egocentric, which means he is cooperative and selfless. He listens to the non‐egocentric filter and sees his decision would adversely affect someone else, he gives it the thumbs down.”

“Is there a third option?”, Phil asked

“Yeah, be patient. It’s the same as the first with a minor difference. Peter is egocentric, but importantly, it is not a decision where his self‐worth is on the line. He listens to both filters and looks at how he can change his proposal to fit in with the other people he would have adversely affected.”

“I think I might go home”, Phil said with a chuckle. “I’m not required anymore.”

“Hang on, before you do. Tell me, do children have an egocentric filter?” John saw Phil’s beer was nearly empty. “Another beer?”, he asked.

Phil lifted his bottle to check. “Must be a good drop, I put that one away quick smart”, replied Phil. John was about to head for the kitchen, “It’s ok, I’ll grab it. You’ve got yours already”. John topped his Bourbon up and waited for Phil to return to answer his question.

Phil didn’t have an answer on hand. He thought about it on the way to and from the kitchen. John could hear the gears crunching as he settled back into his chair. “I would imagine they would need to have one, but it would have very little function until the influence of the adult world brought it on‐line. This filter would come into play more and more as the mid‐teenage years approached.”

“You know buddy, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” John gave Phil a one handed ‘air’ high five. Both were enjoying the glow of a few drinks.

Phil had an inkling as to why John was storming through all this knowledge. He was curious if John was aware that he was. “You have switched onto this really well. Mind telling me why?”

“I sure can. You know Phil, this is not too different from what is involved in artificial intelligence programming. I have been down this thought path before. More times

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Chapter 5 Dinner than the pesky ol’ beaver jumps into the lake out there. I can see as I saw then, the potential for fighting. My solution was a balance knob like the one on that Hi‐Fi over there. It would skew the bias towards one way or the other, depending where I wanted the emphasis. Over there, on the Hi‐Fi, I can twist the knob that way to make the left speaker louder or I can twist it the other way for the right speaker, only in this case it is the egocentric or non‐egocentric filters that are turned up or down, not the speakers.”

Phil could see the computer genius in John coming through. “Excellent. Now the dual filter system has a balance knob which if turned towards the left the egocentric filter casts the deciding vote If it is turned to the right the non‐egocentric filter has the final say. Why don’t we make it easier for all and rename the egocentric filter the ‘selfish’ filter and the non‐egocentric filter the ‘selfless’ filter. But there is a problem with this system we just built.”

“What’s that Phil? Wait. Let me see if I can work this through. I know, who controls the balance knob?”

“Consciousness”, declares Phil. “Actually, Sir Consciousness.”

“Remind me, what’s consciousness?” John was possibly one bourbon ahead of where he should be.

“That’s your awareness, the thinking and decision‐making part of your brain. The other one, ‘conscience’ is the voice that guides consciousness between right and wrong. The morals and ethics centre, one might say.”

“Thanks, Phil…, I get them swapped around at times.”

“OK. Now Sir Consciousness is where everything happens, all feelings and emotions. My guess is Sir Consciousness will want anything good to come his way and anything bad to go elsewhere.”

“Makes sense to me”, says John rubbing his hands together as if about to fly off with the Jetsons.

“Sir Consciousness has his hand on the balance knob turned fully to the left, flat to the floor. The egocentric filter or ‘selfish’ filter is fully on and the party really kicks off, he’s having a great time. After a sustained period of hedonistic living, Sir

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Consciousness pauses and says, “This is too easy, maybe I should let the ‘selfless’ filter have a say”. He swings the balance knob back to the right, bringing in the selfless filter. This is when Mother Conscience is released. She seizes her opportunity, sneaking in and asking a few pertinent questions, spoiling the party and spreading a bit of guilt around.”

“Phil, great analogy you are certainly outdoing yourself with this one” said John overflowing with exuberance.

“Haven’t finished yet. Sir Consciousness listens to Mother Conscience, accepting he has been wrong and kicks everyone out of the party, cleans up the mess and promises Mother Conscience he will return the knob to a better balance. He experiences remorse and promises to reform. But a few months later Sir Consciousness is done with remorse. He needs to make himself feel he is actually good and not bad so he gives up the reform bit as well. He whips the knob back around to the left and is once again yelling out, ‘Party Time’. Mother Conscience, once again pushed aside is unable to stop him. She mutters ‘recidivist’ under her breath. The more Mother Conscience thumps on the door to be let back in, the more upset Sir Consciousness becomes because he knows he should be letting her back in. He knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t. He tries to remember the time, back when he was child, when Mother Conscience had her hand on the balance knob. But those memories were lost long ago. He was too young. He was in his teenage years before he could get her hand of the balance knob and kick her out of the room. It was then he really started to rock. He doesn’t want to know about the time before then, so he denies ever having much of a friendship with Mother Conscience, denies any memory of her hand being on the balance knob.”

Phil is excited by his own story. He grabs his beer and pours it down his throat, imagining himself as Sir Consciousness with his hand on the balance knob, holding it hard to the left.

“Mother Conscience bangs harder on the door. He ignores her, he needs more party time to overcome feeling bad for keeping Mother Conscience out. He parties harder and harder. He wants to feel good, hoping he will see himself as being good, building his self‐worth up again. He knows he is doing wrong by making Mother Conscience slip notes under the door. He refuses to read her messages, burns them to prevent himself from reading them in those moments of weakness when he trips up. Those careless moment when his hand slips off the balance knob. He must party 100

Chapter 5 Dinner hard to keep those moments far, far away, he wants it all for himself. He turns up the party volume, it feels good, he wants more of that feel‐good juice. He is like a junkie craving drugs, he needs more party time. He needs that self‐worth tonic. The more Mother Conscience bangs on the door and slips him notes outlining redemption, the deeper his upset becomes, the harder he must party to remove his upset, but it just won’t budge. He's out of control, there’s no turning back.”

Phil comes to the end, panting and reaching for his beer again.

“That is just brilliant. Outrageous. I see it so clearly now. But who is Mother Conscience and where did she come from?” asks John.

“She is the wonderful loving, selfless, empathetic and cooperative instinctive self the new born baby arrives with.”

“I see.” John is sobered by this and sits quietly for a few minutes assimilating this new knowledge.

Phil drinks the rest of his beer and heads to the kitchen for another. He keeps watching John as he processes then says, “This is why you cannot tell people they are competitive or selfish.”

“Why’s that”, asks John.

“You will be treated the same as Mother Conscience, forced into slipping notes under the door which are ignored or ripped up as fast as you can write them.”

“Yeah, makes perfect sense”, replies John. “Who do you think has their balance knob all the way to the left, ignoring Mother Conscious?”

“Could be anyone, you tell me who you think?”

“Ted Bundy”, says John excitedly, “…and dictators like Saddam Hussein.”

“Possibly. People who live for power, have a vision and they are in the centre of their vision…, I would expect those type of people.” Phil remembered reading about a young female high‐flyer just a day or two ago. “Have you heard of Elizabeth…. Her surname escapes me, but she owns this blood testing company, Therapos or Theranos…, something like that. Apparently, she’s mimicked Steve Jobs in the way she dresses and emulated his promotional style…” 101

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“Yeah, I know who you mean. Charged with fraud for claiming to have invented a portable blood testing machine capable of doing over two hundred different tests. A Wall Street journo caught her out. Do you think she could be one with the knob all the way to the left?”, John asked.

“Absolutely. She had a vision and she was front and centre in her own vision. She used whoever was worth using, lied openly and obviously enjoyed the power she wielded.”

John was excited by this new game they had invented. “What about those who run hedge funds, driven to make money, finding dirt on people and blackmailing for information so they can play Wall Street with an advantage…, what about them?”

“Very likely”, Phil responded reluctantly.

“And politicians, corporate presidents…, and army generals…, what about them?”

“John, it can be anyone. Yes, people who are driven to have power, control and wealth along with others who are seeking fame or expecting to be praised for things they do would make the most likely candidates. But it could also be the loner who works autonomously in a nondescript job and keeps to themselves. You can’t generalise, otherwise you will see every hedge fund manager as a demonic Sir Consciousness, when it is possible, slender as it may be, that he or she has a very interactive Mother Conscience.”

There was no stopping John, he wanted to look at everyone in terms of how much they turn the balance knob to the left. “What about the opposite extreme, the people who hardly ever red line to the left, who are they?”

Phil went along with John. He could see the value for John in allowing him to build his understanding of a concept that was very new to him. “Again, anyone. But my best guess is these people would have grown up in country or remote areas. I’m not including those who have escaped to the more rural life, they all have different reasons and could be anywhere on your ‘balance knob chart’. If the people you’re asking about lived in a city, I would be concerned for them. I would think people who incorporate their conscience into their lives to that extent would genuinely care about others, most likely putting others before themselves. Those type of people would find it very difficult to survive in the highly competitive cities. They may have trouble keeping their sanity if they stayed. 102

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“Can we look at one more?”, John asked, a mix of excitement and seriousness.

“Alright, one more”, Phil replied.

The last of John’s excitement dissipated as he pondered his question more deeply. He thought twice about asking, seeing Phil wasn’t interesting in pointing the finger with generalisations, but he had become curious. “People who regularly need convincing they are a good person and a worthy individual. They might twist the knob to the left each day, more or less. What do you think they would be like?”

Phil really had no idea. He imagined twenty percent, possibly fifty percent of people could be like that. In all likelihood, it could be the majority of people. He did think there would be a higher proportion of Americans like that, higher than every other country. But he didn’t want to fill John’s head with pictures that he would believe and hold onto when they could be very wide of the mark. “John, it really is impossible to make generalisations about these things. Just to help you grasp it better, to help you see what I’m talking about, I’ll give you a few thoughts I have in passing.”

“I would imagine the more frequently one turns the knob to the selfish side the more insecurity they would feel. Resorting to being competitive on a regular basis, daily or almost continuously means an almost constant search for the pseudo‐ security that only feeling good and endeavouring to convince themselves they are good will give them. But they don’t ignore their Mother Conscience as much as your Ted Bundy characters. They could have periods where they are similar to the Ted Bundy characters, next cab off the rank, so to speak. Conversely, they could be people without any inclination to do bad things. Having developed a friendly and amicable persona, they may be desperately hiding their pain and upset from everyone. Fortunately, they would not be able to be as ruthless, they would not be able to completely ignore the effect of their decisions on those around them, making them less decisive. They may be caught between despising and having adulation for those who are ruthless and decisive, having envy one minute and disdain the next. They could be very confused, thinking they are failures because they just can’t reach the top. Narcissistic power‐addicts, or at least heading that way. Redeemable? Of course, but it would take an awful lot of work. The key would be finding an alternative way to satisfy their need to feel they are good and worthy and if that is achieved, the job is half way done. Just telling them they are worthy is usually pointless.” 103

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John contemplated the torture a person would experience if they were as Phil described. He just couldn’t imagine what a day in the life of such a person would be like. He felt compassion for Phil’s fictitious person as if they were real. “Sounds gruesome”, he said.

“It is gruesome. As every generation goes by, people are replaced by the next generation who are in even more need of convincing they are good people, worthy people. Each successive generation is nurtured less, protected less and are more affected than the generation they replace. Their knob, turned to the left, promoting behaviour that becomes more dramatic, more severe and more often.”

Phil sat in silence, the effects of his beer toning down to chill level. He was watching John as he worked through the many pictures Phil had painted throughout the day. He can’t believe John hasn’t grown weary with information overload.

John thinks of their discussion about the Doomsday mania. He thinks about Phil’s story of the big city store and Alice who couldn’t let her displays be changed by Romeo. He thinks about his country and its thirst for power and control over the world. He thinks about his own work on artificial intelligence. Pieces kept falling into place as he applied Sir Consciousness and Mother Conscience to each thought. He gravitated towards his sister, Maria who didn’t turn out quite like himself. He traced her life from when she left mother and himself to live in the City. The men started during college, one after another and not always in single file. The booze, the drugs and the lure of society life. He loved his sister but she certainly burnt many of Mother Conscience’s notes slipped under her door. John could see other occasions in his life as grey areas where the Sir Consciousness and Mother Conscience interplay was less clear, but he let them go, knowing in time they too would divulge their secrets in terms of his new knowledge. He imagined the balance knob was in different positions for different people. It was always turning back and forth depending on circumstances but each scenario kept telling him the battle was always to pull the knob away from the left and out of the hands of the selfishly competitive Sir Consciousness. He empathised with Mother Conscience; she had the toughest gig in town.

“How about some music”, said Phil jumping to his feet and heading towards John’s vinyl LPs filling the shelves on the other side of the room.

“Help yourself”, said John, agreeing that some music would go down well.

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Phil flicked through the LPs and memories came flooding back to him with each LP he touched. “They are mostly my mother’s old records”, said John.

“Eric Clapton, Muddy Waters, Paul Butterfield and John Lee. Your Mum really liked the blues?

“My mother loved the blues. She was a bit of a rocker too, but she always came back to the blues. There’s some old Fleetwood Mac albums there. Mother played them over and over. Black Magic Woman, Albatross, Green Manalishi”, replied John.

“This is the original. You have an original Bob Desper record. Great album. These are so rare. Can I put it on?” asked Phil. He opened the lid of the turntable, placed the record and lowered the needle. Bob Desper started with his acoustic guitar intro.

“No need to adjust the balance for that album, it’s just right how it is”, John said a touch dryly.

Phil found some other gems. John Prine, Stan Getz, Bill Evans, Janis Ian, Harry Nilsson, Bill Fay, Harry Chapin, Roy Harper and early Leonard Cohen. “I’m loving your collection. Do you like Leonard Cohen?”, Phil asked just as Bob Desper did a flourish of guitar strumming.

“Haven’t listened to him for a while, but I have some favourite songs of his. Might be time to listen to him again. Let’s play him after this one?

There were many albums, popular and obscure from the 70s, 80s and into the 90s mostly. Phil found albums by the German band Can and some Fairport Convention. “There doesn’t seem to be too many from the 60s.”

“We moved here in 1975. My mother only brought a bunch of her favourites. The rest are probably in the barn. Mother cleared my father’s house after he died and all the stuff she kept is in the barn.”

Phil didn’t like to think about vinyl records in boxes in a barn, especially if there were some rare records he had yet to listen to. He recognised the majority of the records he had flicked through but there was the odd artist he hadn’t heard before.

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He assumed they must be part of the local scene forty years ago. He hoped he might find time to listen to some of them.

The two men had become comfortable in each other’s presence. They were enjoying having another person to talk with and exchange ideas. They talked about their loneliness in a world where everyone had a reasonable sense of belonging, no matter the individual differences. Phil and John shared how they rarely felt part of the same world as everyone else. A world in which the incredible array of individuality seemed to be bound together by a common thread, a thread which John and Phil were unable to find within themselves.

These shared thoughts unnerved John a little as he had made a habit of not thinking too much about the reasons for his almost solitary life. He liked it that way. He had experienced much happiness through his life without the need to be amongst others. The absence of people in his life on a daily basis hadn’t contributed to his loneliness. He was confident of that. He was lonely because of the absence of people he could talk with like he could with Phil. A passing fear beset him for a short moment. He had a vision Phil may be turning his life upside down.

There was an excitement building within Phil. Although John was very different to him, there were some telling and critically important similarities. This placed a whole new slant on his visit and desire to involve John in his idea. John had a calm confidence, a security within himself. It was as though he was naïve to the world, knew he was, and found it mattered little to him. It was as if he knew a truth and that truth was within him but unbeknownst to him. The rest of the world was outside of that truth and he cared little. So long as the outside world didn’t try to come in, he was happy. Listening to the rest of the world was more than unnecessary, it was monotonous and displeasing to him. Phil thought John’s inner truth was the source of his confidence. He did not need to look elsewhere to feel good about himself. John did not want for anything, irrespective of his fortunate financial position. He was a person not prone to giving people money, not because he was a scrooge but because his own happiness and security came from within and was neither dependent upon nor corrupted by money. He simply didn’t consider money was a solution to anything. He had spent the best part of a day with John and neither his behaviour or anything he said, were in any way indicative of his wealth. Phil hadn’t even felt he was in a competitive conversation. Phil admired

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John very much and felt relaxed, comfortable and at ease with him. He enjoyed John’s boyish humour and penchant for fun and excitement.

“Phil, my thoughts have moved on a bit further than Sir Consciousness and his nemesis but saviour, Mother Conscience.”

“Where have your thoughts moved to now John?”

“You want to prolong childhood, right?” asked John. Phil nodded agreement. “But what happens if biologically there is an age that nature has determined childhood must finish?

“Do you think childhood should just disappear at a certain age? That nature has decreed every person is only allowed the beauty of being selfless and cooperative for a fraction of their total life?”

John is searching himself for an answer but hopes Phil can assist him. “I don’t know, but I can’t stop wondering if this is how it is meant to be?”

“Let’s think about Mother Conscience again. The child is happy and content with their life. All their behaviour and the meaning for their existence is bestowed by Mother Conscience. It is the best of places, no conflicts, everything is like a bright sunny summer’s day, bee’s buzzing and flowers saying thanks with brilliant colour. Why would Mother Conscience just say to the child, ‘You have had enough of this good place, it’s time to hand you over to Sir Consciousness because I want you to spend the rest of your life trying to find your way back to me.’?”

“You’re right, it wouldn’t make sense”, agreed John. “Then tell me Phil, what is it like for children as they lose their childhood?”

“Good question. Having not had children yourself you may not be familiar with the ‘naughty nines’ and the ‘terrible teens’.”

“I have heard of them but you are right, not something I have experience with. Go on, tell me about them.”

“A child is born with exceptional innocence…, that’s universally accepted. They have no knowledge of the world they are destined to spend the rest of their life in. Approaching the age of nine the child becomes more self‐aware and their

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Chapter 5 Dinner innocence is threatened by exposure to the adult world. The nine‐year‐old child begins to lash out because of the confusion they experience with the juxtaposition of the selfless cooperative and loving child they were at birth and the adult behaviour they are learning and replicating. Sometimes they behave like an adult but it conflicts with how they instinctively want to behave. Its competitive versus co‐operative, selfless love versus conditional love and in some cases, dislike and even hate. The dual behaviour doesn’t sit well in the nine‐year‐old and they become upset with their new adult influenced behaviour and their lack of understanding for what’s happening to them. They lash out at the world in a desperate search for relief from their inner confusion. There brain requires much more development before they can take a measured, rational and investigative approach.”

“And the terrible teens?”

“The behaviour of the nine‐year‐old becomes less demonstrable because the child learns there is nothing positive coming from lashing out at the world. At the same time as their brain keeps developing and their awareness progresses, they learn that adults are of little benefit in relieving their torment. It’s a tricky time. Depending on the adult response to their irrational behaviour over the next year or two, the child could actually be plunged into a more confused state and become worse. The ten to fourteen‐year‐old children are stepped up into senior school because their brain has developed even further along with their learning capabilities. They become sponges for knowledge as they take in the world around them. But they are still tormented by the strange but invasive adult world. It just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to them. They often become withdrawn and parents feel at a loss to explain their behaviour. Keep in mind they are still children so there is still so much they do not understand. They ask adults for answers but the answers do not solve the issues. Adults don’t think like children so they are unable to give answers that speak to the child. They are dissatisfied with their own imperfect behaviour but are confused by the even more bizarre and corrupted behaviour of adults. They try to ignore much of what adults say and do.”

“Sounds horrible. Also seems like something has to give. What happens next?” asks John.

“The teenager gives in. He or she inevitably succumb”, replies Phil.

“Gives in? ….. Succumbs to what?”, asks John.

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“The adult world. They know the only way to solve their confusion is to simply be rid of it. They capitulate to thinking like an adult, behaving like an adult and become an adult. Confusion all but disappears…, relatively speaking.”

“Phil, does everyone just give up, as you put it?”

“Pretty much. Any other alternative is dangerous for the adolescent. They can never think about what they gave up and forever more, they deny it ever happened. They deny they were ever in that wonderful place called childhood, where they loved selflessly and felt integrated with the world around them.”

John digests this information, but he is sceptical, and rightfully so. He tries to think of other explanations but cannot think of any other that could be plausible. He makes a note to think about it in more detail the next day, maybe do some research. Still, it sounds unworldly to him.

“John”, Phil says, then pauses, wondering if John is actually ready. But Phil knows he needs to take the risk and share this vital piece of knowledge. “There is one missing piece of information you need to know.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“This will take you the longest time to digest, but it is vital to putting it all together.”

“Let me hear it”, John says with a mix of reticence and eagerness. He wasn’t sure he wanted more to contend with, but at the same time, if this piece of information was going to clarify things, he wanted to hear it.

“When the teenage adolescent gives up, they choose to ignore the instinctive memory they were born with. That selfless and cooperative memory created the behaviour that ensured survival. If a baby, infant and child did not give out selfless love it would be more difficult for a mother to love, nurture and protect the child. It creates a powerfully positive response in the mother, who chooses their child above all else….”

“That makes sense”, John said aloud.

“…. This instinctive memory doesn’t disappear, it is Mother Conscience. The adolescent will become an adult and forever more will experience conflict between

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Chapter 5 Dinner their Sir Consciousness and Mother Conscience. These two do not develop a very good working relationship in most people. They are hardly symbiotic. They want different things and the ensuing conflict causes a deep and resounding upset in everyone, some more than others, some not so much, its highly variable. But the upset motivates them to search for validation they are essentially a good person. The other option to giving up on their instinctive memory is to turn their backs on the competitive adult world….”

“This is what I wanted to know…” John said, interrupting again.

Phil let John’s interruption fly past. He was happy for the feedback but he needed John to concentrate. “Giving the adult competitive world the big heave‐ho is nigh on impossible for an adolescent craving to be independent. The adult world is the only path to independence. This is why they have no other alternative other than giving up. Where once they had a life full of giving and caring for their parents, siblings and everyone in their lives, they become focused on themselves. The downside, they become desperate to fill the loss of that instinctive outflow of love. A saying you may have heard, which is appropriate here is, ‘love thyself’. I have heard it said countless times. Usually by people saying, ‘you must learn to love yourself before you can love others’….”

“Yep, heard that one too”, agreed John.

“Well there’s your reason for people saying it. The upset at giving up the ideal world causes people to dislike themselves. In trying to love themselves, to see themselves as good and to feel worthy, adolescents can only think about themselves. They become selfish and as adults they become more and more upset by the never‐to‐ be resolved conflict between Sir Consciousness and Mother Conscience. Their need to achieve, to have plenty and to feel good becomes stronger and they compete and compete and compete to have those wins, to feel they are good. They must alleviate their suffering and incredible loneliness at having turned their backs on the ideal selfless, empathetic and loving world. There are fiction books, non‐fiction books, research papers, self‐help guides and social groups of all kinds, dedicated to loneliness. Whilst ever mankind continues to deny their instinctive self, loneliness will always be an intractable problem.

“That wasn’t just important…, it was damn essential information. I was totally confused as to what adolescents actually gave up. Now I know what our conscience

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Chapter 5 Dinner is and why it we all have one…, theoretically. It’s all starting to fit together. It will just take me time to put it to bed properly.”

Even though John absorbed the knowledge way beyond Phil could’ve imagined, he wanted to explain it in another way. “John, here’s another way to think about it. Just think of ‘giving up’ as a form of denial. If humans suffer pain or grief, denial is often their best recourse. Why suffer? Deny the existence of the problem and the suffering goes away. Children from about nine onwards are increasingly tortured by the conflict between their instinctive memory and the lure of the adult world. It is only in adolescence that their conscious mind has developed enough to scope out the problem, and also developed enough to implement the denial. Before then, the child can’t successfully do either. If they don’t give up in adolescence the denial has trouble sticking. They keep having memory of what they are trying to deny and it is massively confusing and depressing. It can cause all types of horror for the young adult. There is one proviso I must add. If the adolescent has an overwhelming attachment to their instinctive self, denial becomes impossible, but more importantly, it becomes unnecessary.”

Phil had come to accept John was more receptive to the truth than he had ever been when trying to assimilate all this information. He remembered fighting these concepts for months and after that, spending a year or two looking for anything to support the notion they were the concoction of a fanciful mind. But the more he had thought about them and importantly, applied them to himself, it became increasingly obvious they were the truth. He had tried so hard to find reasons for behaviour he observed, even dipping back into his memory of the religion classes at the catholic boy’s school he attended. He had asked himself if it was the work of the devil? Does evil exist? Phil hadn’t found an explanation in religion, which focused more on cleaning up after the ‘sins’ had been committed. He then went on to have more than just a peek at what psychologists had to say. Nearly every explanation pointed to childhood as the start of bad behaviour. There were endless papers and discussions examining the countless ways children could be affected during childhood, and predictions of the corresponding behaviour they would experience as adults. He found correlation between authors was a real mix of reasonable and overly optimistic, but the fundamentals were sound. Childhood adversity was the root cause. This was when he started to accept what he had learned. It was more logical, more rational and explained so much of the diversity of behaviour psychologists reported. Agreeing with the ‘giving up’ concept actually

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Chapter 5 Dinner simplified what he read from psychologists and gave understanding as to why so many anomalies and inconsistencies existed in their explanations and theories. Phil found it more than helpful for explaining why two children can experience very similar childhoods, yet have very disparate adult behaviour. The understanding came in knowing psychologists didn’t account for the ‘giving up’ process during adolescence. A process that was unpredictable at best and resulted in highly variable levels of upset within each individual. One by one the obstacles were removed. The knowledge had started to sit comfortably with him and gradually became resistant to his abundantly healthy scepticism.

“Phil, one more question.”

“I suspect you have more than one.”

“Yes, but this one will do for now. Assuming you are correct about this ‘giving up’ to join the adult world…, and I’m not saying I agree or anything, but just assuming for the moment that I do…. Do you think I gave up?”

“I don’t know. We have only known each other for a day. If you work through all we have spoken about, read at least one of those books I suggested, then you will be in a better position to know. You need to be patient with yourself, keep learning about all this and eventually you will feel it in yourself. You will know the answer. It takes time to prove to yourself whether it is the truth or not and takes even longer to distinguish between honesty and denial in your own mind. You must keep challenging your mind because we all want to believe things at times, and they aren’t always the truth that we are feeling the urge to believe.”

Phil strongly suspected John didn’t need to give up because his isolation held the adult world away well into his adolescent years. His father had made the correct decision when John was seven and the exceptional nurturing by John’s mother created a near ideal world. One he still lives in. Phil could have felt envy for John at the thought of his fortunate childhood and exceptional nurturing, but there was a very different feeling inside of him. He cared for John, hoping he could take his journey of discovery without experiencing the horrors he had faced during his own journey of a few years earlier. Phil wanted John to answer his question for himself…. and in his own time.

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Phil slept well.

Phil had arrived in New York a few days ahead of his meeting with John. He hoped to give himself time to shake of the jetlag and arrive at John’s refreshed following the long flight. His European‐style single room in the small hotel on East 31st Street had been adequate enough, with cable television and a shared bathroom. Phil was a man of modest means, a necessity when using the last of his savings to make a trip to America. His budget allowed him two weeks to achieve his goal and with this in mind, he spent those three days placating his anxiety. He had practised many scenarios and permutations. He knew this could be his last opportunity to find a home for his dream. He would lie on the hard bed, his voice continually rehearsing in his head and all his muscles tight with the nervous energy of his relentless pursuit. Exhausted, he would fall into a disrupted sleep only an hour before the sun was due to rise. Awakening a very short four hours later.

Although he enjoyed walking the streets, studying architecture, losing himself in an art gallery, or teasing his palate with new and interesting foods, he could not afford to be tempted by such desires. New York was his place for preparation. It was his base camp, his last opportunity to oxygenate his blood before the final assault on the peak. With two university degrees under his belt, Phil was well versed in preparing for an examination. During those three days, he fluctuated between nervous excitement and depressing dread. He kept convincing himself how everything would work out, once he was in front of John. He would stroll the fifteen minutes to Madison Square Park reassuring himself he would be ok. He would lay on the ground peering at the sky filtered through a large yellowwood, all the time thinking about the challenge ahead, wondering what John would be like. Would he be patient, tolerant and willing to think in a way he had never attempted to think before? He started to fear he had given himself too much time to prepare and decided a change‐up would do him good.

The day before Phil was due to visit John, he had walked up Lexington Ave to see the Chrysler and General Electric Buildings, making a brief detour via Grand Central Station on the way. He had then zig‐zagged across to Central Park, where he hired a row boat for a few hours to occupy himself. Sitting in the little row boat he would start an imaginary conversation to practise steering the discussion towards the objective. It had been a gorgeous day and the summer tourists had all arrived at the 113

Chapter 6 The Tour lake at the same time, or so it had seemed. He had managed to find a spot on the lake with fewer boats and had begun to talk to his backpack, which he called John. It was sitting upright on the seat in front. He waited for his backpack to counter with probing questions and disagreements. Once or twice he had become aware of drifting too close to other boats and would stop the conversation until his fellow rowing enthusiasts were out of earshot. Sometimes he would talk in a hushed voice, just in case he was overheard. He didn’t want anyone to think him odder than the usual lonely middle‐aged Australian, in a boat on a lake in Central Park talking to a backpack. There was one time when he had been so engrossed in what John the backpack was saying that he stood, keeping his eyes on the label, which had become John’s eyes. The boat had rocked violently from side to side as his legs shook. Fortunately, he fell back to his seat and not sideways into the lake. He quickly looked about, but there was no one with their cell phones pointing in his direction, so he had apologised to John for the interruption and invited him to carry on with what he was saying.

Waking up for the first time in a bed that wasn’t hard and lumpy, Phil reflected on his previous day with John. Yesterday he had delivered everything, even though it wasn’t the carefully crafted and constructed presentation he had developed over the preceding weeks. In the evening he had required little inducement to close his eyes and descend into a deep sleep where he stayed for the rest of the night. He had been so exhausted he bypassed the other sleep cycles, depriving him of his precious dreams, his nightly escape from the reality he lived through each day. For much of the previous day Phil had been well supported by his adrenal glands giving him a steady flow of adrenaline, peaking once or twice, but none more so than the moment he delivered his artificial intelligence idea. Now that he had let the dog off the chain, he felt a bit weird. He felt empty in a way. Was it actually a good idea or had he misled himself? Was it all just an exaggeration in his own mind? Did he really believe what he had said about the importance of human drivers, the trauma for children turning into adults and all that stuff on selfish competitiveness?

Phil periodically suffered doubt. He overcame this by reminding himself how humanity lived in denial of the fundamental truths. His doubts mostly stemmed from humanity trying it’s best to have him live in denial as well. He had come close to succumbing many times in his life. The attraction of being egocentric and caring only about oneself was strong. It may be a lonely life, but it was a much easier life to lead, especially when everyone else was doing exactly the same thing. With the

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Chapter 6 The Tour internet, on‐line games, chat rooms and all the other social media, it was much easier to endure the loneliness. Impersonal interactions in the workplace and the limited social intercourse of modern society were unattractive to Phil. He still remembered a time before computers were invented, when people enjoyed talking with each other, sharing their lives. Now they just watched each other’s lives on Facebook. His other choice was to stay selfless and lonely, a very different sort of loneliness to the one people who had ‘given up’ had to endure. He chose that option primarily because he couldn’t choose the other, he could fake being selfish. He couldn’t live selfishness in a way that convinced him he was being true to himself. He only learnt about his predicament about five years ago, after a lifetime of confusion and bewilderment with the way people behaved towards himself and towards each other. He had sunk very low at one point, but with the help of a few people and the knowledge they shared with him, he was able to pull through. He was tougher now and for the first time in his life, understood who he was. With that knowledge tucked away he finally had the strength to remain true to himself in the face of whatever the competitive world wanted to throw at him.

It did not matter to him anymore that he saw people as zombies. Not in a bad way, more like the zombies in that movie, ‘Warm Bodies’. He thought that was a good way to describe how it was for him. The zombies, like every day people, were mostly unaware of their affliction and would be competitive, selfish and remain upset for all their days. They would dislike each other and compete for everything. in the case of the zombies it was mostly food, but for people it was way beyond just food and material items. Phil had to become tough because being selfless, people just took everything he had to give, and then some. There had been people in his life who were caring, generous and had become his friends. But because they had ‘given up’ their instinctive selflessness to join the adult world, they would unknowingly fall back to being competitive and selfish, leaving him feeling alone, a minority of one.

Phil thought how amazing life must have been for John, not having to fake it. At the very least he might have had to fake it on the rare occasion, but nothing like it had been for Phil. John didn’t need to be in the thick of it to earn an income to survive. Phil wasn’t envious of John and his default demeanour of ignorant bliss. He was optimistically hopeful for John to discover himself even if it meant the bliss disappeared with the ignorance. John had carefully choregraphed his life to exclude all but a few commitments to the world beyond his house in the woods. In doing so, he didn’t experience what it meant to be immersed in the everyday rumble of

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Chapter 6 The Tour humanity, requiring constant detours and careful navigation just to keep one’s self‐ belief intact. As a younger man John would have experienced discomfort when he asked himself, ‘why am I different?’ and ‘why have I withdrawn from the world?’. Over time he would learn to ignore such questions, eventually denying their existence. Wherever he was, his mind would always be back in the woods where he was nurtured from childhood into adulthood. It was his protection and separation from a world he never understood and no longer felt the need to be part of. Phil never had that luxury. The only option was to live in a city in Australia to earn a living. John was protected, a rare and valuable gem who didn’t know the beauty he was destined to bring to humanity.

Phil looked forward to observing John throughout the morning, trying to gauge how long it would take him to delve behind his façade of solitude to seek out the answer to his question of the evening before. Had he ‘given up’ his instinctive childhood selflessness, ‘given up’ his soul to become an adult? Was he still living in the ideal world in which he was born and raised, integrated with all life, living truthfully and cooperatively? Phil had pried open his eyes just a little, enabling him to begin seeing who he was. Now he had to reacquaint himself with those questions, ‘why am I different?’ and ‘why have I withdrawn from the world?’, but this time he had the tools to find the answers. Phil had partially opened the door of his denial and validated those few truthful perceptions of the world he had courageously shared. He must continue the process to find out if he had abandoned his soul during adolescence.

Looking through the bedroom window the ghostly shapes cast by the moon the night before were now discernible in the early morning light. He could see the barn about two hundred feet from the house, with small trees and shrubs at the lake end. Phil raised himself higher and could see the roof of the single storey front part of the house and the stand of pines they walked through to reach the lake. There were shrubs closer to the house, some still with their summer flowers. He couldn’t see the back of the house but he once again gazed at the beautiful soft grass. The lawns were tidy but not manicured. Native shrubs grew where Phil expected formal gardens. The grounds were relaxed and peaceful, not landscaped and pretentious. It appeared John had spoken with nature, asking her to let him nestle into his surroundings without being overgrown.

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With the jetlag gone and so too the microtremors plaguing his muscles, Phil was ready to go. He was looking forward to the much‐vaunted tour. He dressed casually for the day ahead, feeling the excitement fluttering through him.

In the kitchen with one of his mother’s aprons on, John was preparing breakfast. He had heard the old plumbing in the bathroom above the kitchen, saying quietly to himself, “Phil will be down shortly”. He had prepared a breakfast of eggs and bacon with some cornbread, courtesy of Thomas and Adel.

“Good morning Phil, sleep well?”, John asked

“Like a log. I really needed that one.”

“It was a big day for you yesterday. Hopefully today will be less so. After we finish here, we will start our tour. I think you will enjoy what I have prepared for you.”

Patsy, with tail wagging frantically was ignoring all else but the bacon spluttering in the pan just out of her sight. She glanced at Phil as he entered the kitchen, showed signs of wanting to go to him, but remained steadfastly guarding the bacon. Soon she would be able to share in the adventure ahead.

Phil had followed John out the front door, along a short path away from the house and was climbing the wooden steps up the ridge towards the walkway across to the room where Phil had spent the night. At the top of the ridge, the path weaved between taller shrubs. They were going to the barn setback from the edge of the ridge. Not the one Phil studied from the porch yesterday and again from his bedroom window earlier, but the one Phil saw yesterday from the other side of the grass when he looked back at the house. John had been in the barn already that morning, the door was open and everything was ready to go.

“Do you think you will be OK riding a quad bike?”

It had been many years since Phil had ridden a motorbike but felt confident and excited at the prospect. “Sounds great.”

“They’re not driverless.” John said just in case Phil was unaware.

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First stop was back down the ridge to the other barn, the large barn John and his two friends had converted it to the computer workshop only recently. This was the barn Phil had seen from his bedroom window earlier that morning. He looked back at the house in search of the window he had peered through. He always liked to gain his bearings, put everything in place in his mind.

“This is where I spend much of my time developing programs and artificial intelligence. I hope you don’t mind if we don’t go in. The boys are away at a conference in California for the next few days so there is nothing happening at the moment.”

“That’s fine”, Phil said, hiding his disappointment at what he thought would be the highlight of the tour. He had been hoping to see into John’s life a bit more, particularly where he spent much of his time. “What is the conference about?”, he asked, hoping to deflect his disappointment.

“Artificial intelligence, the uncertainty in AI, boring stuff really.” John was speaking quite loudly over the noise of the quad bike engines and obviously didn’t want to go into detail. “Let’s keep going, more to see.”

Phil followed John along a path he was obviously very familiar with. Patsy had made herself at home on John’s rear tray, with tongue hanging out to catch the cooling breeze, Phil had the occasional pleasure of a drop or two of saliva blowing back onto his chin when he followed too closely. Through the trees, climbing the ridge once again then dropping down the other side. They passed through a gate entering the Wilderness Area. They steadily climbed along a path through dense forest until they were high enough above the canopy on a ridge absent of trees. Phil was able to see glimpses of the lake, John’s house, the barn and the top of what he believed was Thomas and Adel’s cabin. Behind them to the east were the mountains of the rugged Wilderness Area where John trekked for days at a time when his mother had passed away.

John came to a stop and Patsy jumped to the ground. Phil pulled up alongside. John traced the extent of his land with his hand. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Phil imagined this panorama covered with snow and the lake frozen over. He wondered if it would be like those scenes he watched on ‘Life Below Zero’, a reality TV show he had enjoyed a year ago which was set above the Arctic Circle in Alaska. It was late summer and the trees had yet to turn. Before him was the astounding beauty

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Chapter 6 The Tour of the forests, a palette of rich shades of green with the greys and browns of the trunks and branches. John’s hand waved in different directions as he spoke passionately of the various stands of maple and birch with the odd beech tree, all claiming territory amongst the taller pines.

They walked slowly along the ridge whilst John continued his discourse about his property. “I often hike up here with Patsy and sit well into the late afternoon. Breathing in the crisp mountain air helps clear my mind, allows me to think. The nearest village is at the top of the lake to the north, out of view from here, but it’s about twenty‐five miles by road. I feel far from anywhere when I’m up here. I wanted you to experience this to help you understand why it is difficult for me to be where you are with your idea. I don’t have children, I enjoy my solitude, my computers are as much a hobby as everything else in my life. I am over forty and have little ambition beyond this forest. My only concerns are what I shared with you yesterday and the threat of artificial intelligence. I’ve thought about them and sometimes I believe they are only threats in my mind because of my over indulgence in science fiction. Phil, I fear you could bring to my doorstep that world I am not part of. I do see what you are saying about the children becoming tomorrow’s adults and the repercussions of destroying their childhood. I do appreciate you sharing all this with me but I need to think about it. That may take some time.”

Phil accepted John’s position. It wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for, but he must remain optimistic. He had shown John a light he could not turn away from. He expected the road ahead would be long and possibly quite bumpy.

John walked to where the ridge started to fall away and motioned Phil to sit in one of the grassed over earthen seats, he had shaped many years ago. The ground sloped downwards from the seats making them perfect for snoozing the day away whilst the colours changed with the sweep of the sun.

Phil was enthralled by the views and drawn in by the ambience of where they were. “Looking out there, I truly understand your reticence. I think if I had lived here for even the last year I would not have come up with my idea. My mind would not have been subjected to all that it has been. Those observations and experiences which led to my conclusions about the human race would never have happened. I can understand where you are at John. I should envy you, but I don’t. I am very happy

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Chapter 6 The Tour for you. Promise me you won’t feel bad if you cannot find the interest that I’m hoping you will. I truly do understand.”

“You’re a good man Phil. You’re a good man for seeing through my eyes and I have no doubt you are a good man for what you believe. People have presented various ideas to me about a dozen times a year and all of them, without a single exception is a way of making money. I have no interest in money. I would give much of my money away if I could trust it wouldn’t cause more problems than it could solve. Sometimes I think the best place for money is locked away in a deep underground vault. There either needs to be no money or endless amounts of money, nothing in between. People go to such extremes just to have more money, so I really do see your point about competition. You have educated me about something I thought I already knew.”

John was making movements indicating they were about to continue the tour. “John, do you mind if I enjoy this view a little longer. I may never return to these majestic forests of yours.”

John had a pang of fear of never seeing Phil again. It was unexpected and took him by surprise. “Sure. Don’t jump to conclusions so hastily ol’ boy. I still haven’t made my mind up. If it helps any, I would say I’m a fifty‐fifty bet at the present time. One thing is for sure. No one with a proposal has ever been up here before.”

Phil was honest and genuine in all he had said to John since they met. However, he knew there was so much more he could say which may swing him towards his idea, but had learnt enough about John to know he retreats back into his woods when pressure is applied. All he could do was keep John open minded, prevent him from feeling he needed to make a decision, letting time do its work.

“John, I’m not going to apply any pressure. Yesterday I helped you open your eyes to the struggle mankind finds itself in. I introduced you to how this battle is perpetuated and accelerated. There is so much more distance to travel. My journey from confusion to where I am today involved some very good books, three very good people and about five years of internal discussion. There is no way I can condense all that into a miracle elixir you can consume. Taking you from where you have been for nearly thirty years to a deep understanding in a single day is simply not possible. You need time to take what you now know and build your understanding. You must discover the truth, not make someone else’s truth yours.

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I know you feel free living here in the woods, but do you always feel that way. I believe the questions you most want answered are buried, but now you can find them again. It will just take time. You will gradually make sense of history, make sense of the present and begin to see a very different future. It definitely won’t be the same future you saw two days ago. The seemingly disparate events littering mankind’s timeline will be understood as you weave the common thread connecting them all. With each new day that comes and goes, this knowledge will open your eyes to the decisions and behaviour people do on any of those days. Up until yesterday you were accepting the way of the world as correct and set in stone. I believe that has changed for you. For the next few days or weeks you will be playing catchup. Each time you think you have a handle on it, it will take another leap forward. This will be the pattern of your learning process.”

This last comment visibly touched an emerging sore spot in John, “Analysing events and observations in the way you say has already started. Unfortunately, I feel my years of naivety may have been the better way and now it has gone. I feel applying that knowledge has already become a preoccupation. It is already disturbing the peace I so enjoyed.”

Phil felt a pang of guilt but quickly remembered his early experiences of seeing beyond the actions of others, through the superficial to lock onto their drivers as if he was viewing the source code just like Neo had done in the movie ‘The Matrix’. He remembered how his emotions of confusion and sometimes anger as a response to the poor behaviour of others gradually changed as he understood why people behaved the way they did. He eventually experienced a sense of empowerment followed by a great deal of empathy and then compassion began sometime later.

“Mate, I do apologise. Once you come to terms with your loss of peace you will feel the real power. Not the power we see every day where people assert themselves to coerce others against their will, but the power to see through that very behaviour and much more. You will be uplifted by the truth of it all. Your house in the woods will become less a necessity and more the idyll it should be. You will be able to drill down through the layers feeding people’s behaviour to find the fundamental human drivers. This understanding and knowledge IS powerful but more than that, it IS extremely relieving. Gone will be the confusion and the desire to withdraw. This evolves into empathy when you eventually grasp how people are not masters of their own behaviour. They are beholden to the adult behaviour, the competitive

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Chapter 6 The Tour drivers, selfishness and sometimes pure greed handed down to them, a process commencing when the adult was once an innocent and defenceless child. The really sad part is this; the harder people try to feel good about themselves and to generate self‐worth by pursuing power fame glory and fortune, the more they actually need it. It becomes an escalating search for wins. They can never be satisfied. That’s when your compassion will be needed.”

John didn’t respond. Phil didn’t need him to, he could see John was listening.

Phil was happy his normally difficult to control passion was somehow effortlessly constrained. On any other day he wouldn’t have submitted to John’s hesitancy. He would have hounded him until something gave. He viewed this as the personal progression he had long been seeking. His words were not rehearsed but flowed from a place not solely within the domain of his consciousness. John had closed his eyes, taking in the words and letting his thoughts go where they pleased. Phil joined John and closed his eyes. John was in deep meditation but Phil was just trying to relax. His brain was still hyperactive.

After a short time, Phil opened his eyes and moved his gaze across the trees to the mountains in the distance, content he had surpassed the hopes he had set before leaving Australia. He looked at John beside him, his eyelids fluttering gently and thought it best to remain still and quiet. He let John enjoy a respite from the endless teachings he had felt compelled to deliver within the constraints of time.

John opened his eyes, blinking until they were accustomed to the sun. “When you said you clear your mind up here, did you mean you come to meditate?”, asked Phil.

“I occasionally do, summer only of course.”

Phil felt it was time to draw a close to his teachings and what better moment than high up on a ridge where John came to find his peace.

“Take all the time you need to work through all we have covered. I will head back to the City later today and play tourist for a week or two, checking in with you along the way. I will leave you two items though. One is a memory stick with a documentary from eighteen months ago, the other a thin book about childhood emotional neglect written by a doctor not too far from here. I also recommended another book yesterday. That’s a longer read. These are well worth a once over before making a decision.” 122

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“That sounds like a pretty fair deal to me. I give you my scout’s honour I will study all of them. Let’s keep going, I have more for you to see.”

They dropped down from the higher ground, entering the enchanting woods again. John turned onto a less used trail. They were traversing more rugged country and heading upwards again. A few minutes later John came to a halt. The two men walked through the trees for another thirty minutes before traversing the slope at an angle for a short distance. It wasn’t an easy walk as this was old growth forest with ferns and fallen branches covered in moss, lots of moss everywhere. John pointed out many of the shrubs and plants forming the undergrowth, giving them names and showing Phil those he had planted around the house and barns. His favourite was the Hobblebrush and there was some Northern Wild Raisin scattered about.

“These are some of the oldest and largest trees I have found on my walks. They are now protected by this Wilderness Area but a couple of centuries ago there was no wilderness areas and logging took nearly everything. These survived for whatever reason, I don’t rightly know, possibly the rugged slope nearby, maybe just dumb luck. This beauty is a white pine.”

Phil, who loved trees and had felt a strong attraction to be in the woods since arriving at John’s, was truly impressed. He felt a little shiver in knowing he was amongst trees which were far older than himself and probably his father as well as his grandfather, if he was still alive. “How old do you think they are?”, he asked John.

“This one and a few others in this area could be over four hundred years old. Its base is about four feet across. Further up there are a few very old hemlocks, probably survived because they were less desirable as lumbar.”

“So, this area is undisturbed?”

“Sure is. You are standing in an ancient forest.”

Phil was thinking, if nothing comes of his visit to John’s, he can at least hold onto the memory of being in an almost prehistoric forest. He looked around then up, half expecting to see the long neck and head of a Mamenchisaurus pushing through the trees.

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For the next hour they explored many more trees, sharing the abundance of quiet beauty surrounding them. The smell of the forest was therapeutic for Phil. At one stage, John quietened Phil mid‐sentence and the two listened to the birds. The morning birdsong was long gone but there were still the sweet sounds of Chickadees and Nuthatches floating through the trees.

“This forest looks so strong and vibrant. It has been here for hundreds of years yet we talk about how lucky it is to have survived. Doesn’t that way of thinking, seeing a forest and its precious wildlife as lucky to have survived strike you as something we should not be saying so matter of fact?”, asked Phil.

“I do agree with you Phil. It is a horrible thing and we shouldn’t need to see things that way. I don’t know whether to thank you or ignore you. You have this habit of making me look at things in a way I wouldn’t normally do. I am still unsure if that is a good thing or not. It does disturb me a little and maybe that is what I need. Time will tell.” John ponders his own words for a moment whilst Phil soaks up the atmosphere of the woods, noticing another delightful plant nearby. “But you are right. We have become desensitised into readily accepting loss, sometimes without a second thought. Particularly for the city folk who are disconnected from nature, who only read about it and see it as pictures on the net, or stick it on their computer as a wallpaper. Some go to the trouble of watching the odd documentary. Being in here is hardly the same as their walks in city parks.”

“You are spot on. It’s very different when you stand next to an ancient tree like this one and can reach out and touch it”, Phil said as he ran his hand across the coarse bark. “You’re right about walking in a city park. In here, in these woods, we are in nature’s world and yet, I feel part of it. In the city parks I can’t help feeling the trees and shrubs are in man’s world, under duress and without the feeling of belonging I sense here. I mean, those parks are technically nature…, but it’s not really. It is more a showcasing of nature, contrived and manicured for mankind’s enjoyment and amazement. It’s as though man says nature is great, but we just need to help it look it’s best. All man ends up doing is sanitising it so it is less confronting. Nature nourishes the soul. Man removes nature’s true wonder and beauty so he can keep his soul under wraps and out of the way. Being here, I don’t have those subdued almost sad feelings I have in city parks. It is so obvious these trees and even these little plants belong here and are rejoicing in being together as they should be…”,

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Phil is in an almost dreamlike state of natural euphoria as he cradles leaves in the palm of his hand.

Suddenly he feels a greyness descend as his thoughts turn to other things. “Being here in this forest I can’t help but conjure up the images of nuclear bombs going off. These trees and this forest would likely go if humans pressed those buttons to start a nuclear war. Standing here thinking about that makes me more emotional for the trees than for the humans who would perish… The madness is, it would take only a few individuals a few seconds….”

“You’re right. It really isn’t a good way to live”, agreed John. Whilst he didn’t venture into the same place in his own mind as Phil had, he was reminded of the many times he had during previous walks through the forests. He looked up through a break in the trees where the sun streamed in. “We should head back for lunch soon.”

John led the way from the forest back to the bikes. Once aboard they were climbing again and then along a ridge of high ground until it dropped sharply to a small stream. Phil could make out the height to which the stream must rise when the snow was melting. It rose a lot he thought. They were still in the Wilderness Area, heading south. John found the start of another path a few hundred feet away and the two men on their bikes followed the stream into an area where the forest gave way to low shrubs and small trees. They walked a short distance past a stand of birch trees to a waterfall amongst the ferns. They stood and listened to the water trickle over the rocks as it descended. It was very peaceful. John described how spectacular it became when the winter snow melted and the creek had more than the trickle it was today.

The path swung away from the stream and headed north west returning the two men to the forest. A short time later the stream once again joined them, they tracked along it, keeping it to their left. About half an hour of leisurely twists and turns through the forest, they re‐entered John’s property through an old wooden gate. Half a mile later they exited the darkness of the woods and into the bright midday sun. John slowed and Patsy jumped from the tray, running at a good pace along the track ahead. A short distance further and they were riding between cultivated fields. The track had widened into a gravel laneway bordered by farmed crops. John stopped when he came upon a utility vehicle.

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“Phil, I would like to introduce you to Thomas.”

The men exchanged greetings. Thomas was marginally taller than John who was over six foot himself, but his arms and shoulders spoke of days working the land. Thomas was in his late thirties or early forties with a young but strong face that was almost chiselled, but not quite. A hat which had seen better days adorned his light brown hair with a natural wave and the odd curl hung below his collar. Phil’s hands were a little sore from holding the handle bar of the quad bike so when Thomas’s hand engulfed his in an enthusiastic greeting Phil winced and involuntarily nursed his hand for the remainder of their time chatting.

John was eager to tell Phil about Thomas and his farm. For him, this was the highlight of the tour he had planned the day before. “Thomas has about eight acres under crop. He grows cabbages, cucumbers, green peas, onions, snap beans, squash, sweet corn, tomatoes….”

Thomas took his cue from John, “Chinese vegetables, lettuces, beetroot, all the root crops…potatoes, carrots, turnips, lots of herbs…cauliflower, melons, garlic…and the fruit trees of course. We’ll show you the fruit trees later.”

“Thomas also runs cows and goats for milk and cheese, raises chickens and pigs and…, does that just about cover it, Thomas?

“There is more, but that’s enough for now.”

Phil remembered John saying he would find this corner of his property most interesting. From what he just heard, he thought John had every reason for that prediction. He had listened to all the produce grown, hearing different vegetables he considered were not capable of growing in this region. Phil was looking forward to seeing how Thomas managed to defy the restrictions of climate. He thought back to the family garden as a boy and how much his father grew in the corner of the backyard. He wondered where all of Thomas’s produce went. “It seems this is far too much produce for three, four…five people?”

“All the produce we do not need is Thomas’s to sell. I met Thomas about eight or nine years ago on one of my visits to the markets in town. I tend to like fresh locally grown food. I ran into Thomas and he introduced me to Adel and Adel introduced me to her cooking. I started making the trip to the markets more often, just to chat with Thomas and to eat Adel’s food. Then there was the day Thomas told me about 126

Chapter 6 The Tour his father. How he had lived with Hodgkin's lymphoma for three years, but had deteriorated recently. He told me their days at the markets were numbered. His father’s farm was up for sale to cover the medical. On the way home I thought about Thomas, Adel and Thomas’s father and it made me quite sad. I hadn’t realised how much I had enjoyed meeting up with them. For the next week I couldn’t shake them from my mind. I would come down here, look through the cabin, the few other old buildings and the condition of the land, wondering if Thomas and Adel would want to give it a go. The next couple of market days I couldn’t make it…, I had to go to the City. When I did make it back, I was lucky enough to find Thomas still there, with Adel and her famous tacos. But his stall was smaller. The farm had been sold. They had needed the money quickly. He still had the produce he sold on behalf of his friends on other farms, but there was no money in it for them.”

Phil thought he saw moisture in John’s eyes. Thomas had hardly moved an inch.

“Thomas’s father was in hospital and these two wonderful people and their two young boys were living in an empty barn on a neighbour’s property, with winter just around the corner.” John pointed towards the far extent of his property, out of sight over the slight rise about two hundred yards beyond the cabin, “Seven acres over there had been leased to a neighbouring farmer up until he retired and sold up fifteen years ago. The rest had been farmed before father bought the house and was in a fairly advanced stage of forest regrowth. I had from time to time removed young trees before they grew too large, but had given up on that some years ago. I always thought I would return it to food production but like the old logger’s cabin, it never happened. I was guilty of being too involved with computers. I tried to lease it out but it is not easy for farmers to make good in these parts. When I found Thomas had fallen on hard times, losing the farm he would have inherited, I offered him this.”, John gesticulated with a broad sweep of his hand. “I really didn’t expect him to take it on, but he was just crazy enough to say yes and the next week he was planting crops. Thomas had kept some equipment from his father’s farm, I had a tractor and a few other items. Together we purchased other equipment, rebuilt and extended the cottage and stocked the paddocks and pens with a handful of livestock. Within a few weeks we ate our first produce. Two years later we were all but off the grid.”

Thomas hadn’t moved, trying his best to hide his emotions. John on the other hand was unaware his eyes had started weeping the odd tear which were now coalescing

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Thomas turned to Phil and continued the story.

“Adel helps me run the farm and together we sell produce and home cooked food at the markets and supply a handful of restaurants. We’re selling at least five times more produce from this farm alone than I was from my father’s and the others. We are so thankful to John, it’s a great place to live. Come, much more to see. Have you visited a farm before?”.

Phil dug deep to remember the last time he was on a farm. “Not often. My grandfather lived on a twenty‐acre dairy farm when I was a boy. I spent a few holidays there. Apart from that, only the odd casual visit to a working farm.”

“This will be a real treat then.” Thomas was genuinely excited at the prospect of showing his farm to a city slicker from down under.

The three of them were joined by Patsy’s father, Smokey, one of John’s other dogs. Patsy was always happy to be around Smokey, running alongside and nudging him in an attempt to have him play. Smokey enjoyed the attention.

They explored the farm for the best part of an hour. John and Thomas showing Phil one incredible thing after another. Beyond the open fields were acres of high tunnels growing food all year, even throughout the bleak winters. John and Thomas had installed geothermal heating at various locations to keep the tunnels at optimum temperatures. Some high tunnels had controlled humidity and were growing tropical fruit. A modern barn housed a biomass gas production plant feeding a sixty‐five‐watt gas turbine electricity generation plant. There were twelve barns in total, all of varying shapes and size. Some were more like low profile warehouses and were housing farm machinery, hydroponics and during winter, the livestock made them their home. All had extensive solar panels on the roofs and were almost totally screened by trees and shrubs. John wanted to hide all the buildings and high tunnels to give the appearance of being in the forest. John told Phil how they had built a small bridge across the stream and leased land for growing their own willow crop to feed the biomass gas generator and were about to lay

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Then there was a highlight for Phil. Tucked away in a quiet corner of one of the barns was Patsy’s mother. She was nursing her latest litter of six, born three days ago. John picked one of the pups from the tangle of soft bodies and straw, “I think I will keep this one as a playmate for Patsy”. He passed the puppy to Phil. It had been a very long time since Phil had cradled a new born, human or animal. He wanted to keep the puppy himself but with some reluctance gently returned it to John.

At the end of the tour, Phil thought they had covered every base, except maybe one, something he had at one time become associated with back in Australia. He asked, “Where are the fish farms?”

John and Thomas turned in unison and pointed to the stream. “Salmon, pike, pickerel, lake trout, perch including small and large mouth bass all at our doorstep and available all year. If you were here late January, I would take you ice fishing on the lake”, answered Thomas. “Come …let’s have lunch. Adel has some of John’s favourite tacos ready.”

John showed Phil into the kitchen where he was introduced to Adel as she filled her earthenware dishes with the various taco fillings. He immediately liked her broken English and her Latin‐American accent. Within minutes Adel had ushered them from the kitchen, out to the rear patio where Phil met Thomas and Adel’s two boys, Javier and Sebastian who were twelve and ten respectively. Lunch was in the atmospheric setting of a Mexican garden. Terracotta pavers extended outwards in concentric circles from an extraordinarily beautiful cascading water fountain, generally the preserve of a Mexican courtyard garden…, in Mexico. The central column and three bowls were terracotta, the bowls decorated in blue, green and yellow glazed tiles with a circle of patterned tiles, each separated by a wedge of bright blue. The sculptured terracotta column in the centre of the fountain wore 129

Chapter 6 The Tour bracelets of curved bright blue tiles. The tiles inside the bowls were mirrored on the ground around the base. It was a birthday gift from John two years ago, trucked from Mexico by the Mexican artisans with whose hands it was created and who came to install their artwork the way it was made to look. Thomas had built a series of walls on the remaining three sides to create the ambience of an authentic Mexican courtyard, even inserting windows he had purchased from Mexico. There were palms and potted plants along with vines growing along the walls. Phil noticed the flues of the stone oven and barbeque penetrated the wall. He thought that was a bit unnecessary. Close to the house the table sat beneath a pergola generously covered in grape vines. The table was even more generously endowed with food.

“Do all these plants survive the winter”, Phil asked Thomas.

Thomas grinned. He had been hoping Phil was inquisitive enough to ask. “You can’t see from in here, but there are poles and brackets around the outside of the walls. In mid‐fall I insert some centre columns and a beam, then lift two high tunnels up with the tractor and sit them over the top of the whole courtyard and seal it against the house. With geothermal heating we are able to be out here all year.” Thomas had a huge smile at the surprise Phil was wearing on his face. “We have it all sorted”, he added.

Over lunch Thomas and Adel told Phil how they met in Tijuana when Thomas had R & R from his Navy SEAL training in Coronado. They married nearly two years later, two weeks after her eighteenth birthday. When Thomas finished his SEAL contract, he and Adel, her name being Adelita, returned to Thomas’s father’s farm where the two boys were born in short succession.

Phil was also given some very interesting information. Javier and Sebastian attended school one day a week, sometimes two. They were home schooled on the other days. John helped out with math, English, science and computers. Phil saw John’s door opening a little further. He was a bit of a dark horse, Phil thought, then wondered what else does John do which may be of interest. Phil paid particular attention to John’s interaction with Javier and Sebastian for the remainder of the meal and noticed a close friendship between them. There was a complete absence of authority towards the boys by John. In fact, he did not notice any authoritarian behaviour from John towards Thomas and Adel either, nor from them to their two boys. Phil felt he was observing something quite rare.

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“Adel, these taco breads are very different to the ones I have had in Australia or even the City for that matter. None of them tasted anything like these. Yours are great”, exclaimed Phil.

“You know Phil, I make the tortilla the traditional way, the way my Mama made it. I boil the corn in the lime to make ‘nixtamal’. You know the nixtamal?” Phil shakes his head and Adel explains further. “Nixtamal make the corn easier to eat and better for you. I ground up with the stones to make ‘masa’. Back in Mexico we used the flat stone, it called ‘metate’ and we do the corn by hand, always by the hand. John, he be very good for me, he buy the machine to save my hand. Now I help Thomas and cook good food for John”, says Adel giggling.

“In my short stay here with John I have been fortunate to indulge in some of the best food I can remember. I was greeted by pulled pork subs and sauerkraut. They say when up by twenty after ten, it’s a ‘dream start’”, said Phil, trying to show he had watched some American Football. “Then came dinner. Lovely tender chicken, we call ‘em chooks back home. This chook had obviously bathed itself daily in all the right stuff. Its aroma was only surpassed by its flavour. Magic. But there were the vegetables, corn…magnifique. Spuds I want to take back home to grow and the greens, crisp and full of favour. It would be remiss of me to forget the eggs and bacon this morning. I would be happy if today was breakfast all day. That was until today’s lunch. Saying it was the crowning glory is unfair to the other meals, but your tacos and your beautiful smiling faces exuding friendship are great memories to be leaving this beautiful place with. Thank you, thank you so much. I have enjoyed being with you.” Phil was feeling he must be the luckiest person alive. A handful of emails and he had been given the incredible opportunity to meet John and his friends. He will never forget his two days at Johns house in the woods.

After lunch John and Phil climbed onto their quad bikes and headed back to the house. Entering the shadows of the woods Phil began to contemplate John and his immense generosity. John was instrumental in Thomas and his family having the life others could only dream of. His compassion ran deep, even if he was ignorant of this himself. John was helping to educate Thomas and Adel’s children and had funded Thomas’s need to feel he is a good person by building an incredible farm and life for himself and his family. The time he just shared with John, Thomas and Thomas’s family had moved Phil immensely. There was so much love, respect and

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Chapter 6 The Tour trust. Phil hoped this would not change when John discovered his own truth. He needed John to grow his love and compassion beyond Thomas and his family.

Shortly after arriving at the house Phil and John exchanged their sincere appreciation for each other, making promises to keep in touch no matter what eventuates. Phil reluctantly departed, watching in his mirrors as John stood unmoved. He could feel John’s eyes follow him as he entered the trees and the lane that marked his departure from John’s house in the woods and the start of the journey back to the City.

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John was up before the break of day the next morning. He caught the morning birdsong and watched the sun begin to bask the mountains to the west.

The previous afternoon he had been restless. The departure of visitors was mostly inconsequential, but with Phil gone he had felt alone for the first time, possibly since his mother had died. He hadn’t enjoyed the feeling at all, admonishing himself for doing so. Twenty‐four hours before that, Phil was just a name at the end of a few emails so what had happened to create the unwanted distraction, the silly pain he had felt? The lawn wasn’t due for mowing for another week but he had needed to occupy himself. He was unconcerned that Beatrice usually mowed the lawns, it was highly unlikely she wouldn’t experience upset if he were to do them just once. He had pressed a button and the robotic arm removed the charging cable then he had headed down the path to the grass. He had enjoyed winding around the trees, up the gentle slopes and the thrill of free falling into the small gullies. He had forgotten how enjoyable mowing could be, the scent of the freshly cut grass was intoxicating. But after about an hour he had found himself thinking about Phil and his roller mower he had spoken so highly of. It was not exactly what he had wanted to think about.

When he had finished the mowing and returned the mower to the barn with an hour of daylight remaining before sunset, he had unhitched the runabout from its moorings and taken Patsy for a run up the lake. He had felt good when he went to sleep last night, but at the start of the new day, he felt troubled again.

After breakfast he ventured into the barn and immersed himself into his computers, hoping to ease his troubled mind. The boys would be away for a few more days but he had no yearning for their coMisteradeship. He was relieved to be without their banter, knowing his humour had abandoned him. He certainly wasn’t up to returning volleys when they found yet another ingenious way to refer to him as an ‘old’ man. The morning was a struggle with nothing worthwhile achieved. The discussions with Phil were replaying over and over in his mind, persisting against all efforts to ignore them or push them to one side to be dealt with at a more convenient time. His peace had been seriously disrupted and this was distressing him.

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By lunch his concentration was all but shot, his frustration turning to despair. He was going nowhere. It was time to stop pushing back. It would be more productive to give in to his thoughts. It wasn’t the same as watching a movie then analysing the obscure and deeper intentions of the writer. That was enjoyable. This however, wasn’t. John did not know what he was working towards. Phil had an idea and asked him to think about whether the idea was something he could run with. When Phil first revealed his idea, he hadn’t the slightest clue of where to start. With a day of Phil’s idea soaking into his every pore he had come to believe it was feasible. But now he was thinking he may have oversimplified what it would take. There was so much more involved, it felt like a pack of fleas on steroids bouncing around inside his head. He needed to sort it out sooner, rather than later.

Patsy, sensing John was not himself, was following him from house to barn to house and back to the barn. She knew when he was like this, which wasn’t very often, John would turn to her for company. She sensed adventure was afoot.

“Patsy, up for a hike?” Patsy started wagging her tale and doing half circles in anticipation. John readied the smaller of his hiking packs and together they headed up the path towards the Wilderness Area. Patsy knew exactly where they were going, running ahead just out of sight then returning to ensure John was following. Her routine was repeated four more times before she was convinced her initial instincts were indeed correct. The occasional early afternoon rabbit failed to distract her. She would attend to them another day. A little over two hours later John was in his favourite grass seat on the high ground, bathed in sunshine. Laying his head against the grass, he closed his eyes and gave his mind the freedom it had so desperately sought.

Patsy lay in the grass seat next to John. She could smell the scent where Phil had sat. John worked through his recollection of all the conversations with Phil. Questions starting jumping out at him. He asked his questions aloud, hoping this would help him find the answers.

“Do I love the forest or is it a way of evading society?”, he asked himself.

“Possibly”, he replied. “Maybe I never wanted to leave my childhood. I do feel connected to the trees, the water and the mountains”, he said in answer to his question.

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Then he asked himself, “But when I go to the City, is it leaving here that hurts or is it the fear of the City?”

He thought very hard about that question, cursing himself for asking it. “There was no warmth and no love coming from the people in the City”, he said almost involuntarily. That was possibly true, he thought. That was what he feared. He remembered his aspirations when he was nearly twenty and tried to remember if there was a moment, an event which turned him away from pursuing his dreams far beyond the trees and lake. “I was afraid of the selfishness”, he said aloud. It was true, he had experienced people and felt how consumed they were with their own personal lives. He couldn’t feel any connection because they were isolated and made him feel isolated too.

“Did I push them away or did they push me?”, he asked. A few minutes later he answered, “I pulled away, they didn’t push me away, I just didn’t feel the love I had grown up with”. He started to feel guilty, but he remembered Phil telling him, ‘the adolescent gives up the instinctive selfless love they were born with’. “Was that it?” he wondered aloud.

“Did I not give up like others? Do I still look for that love in others, the selfless love I possess? Whilst everyone else searches for self‐worth, I’m searching for people to share love with. Is that why I fear the City, because it is devoid of selfless love?” He removed his glasses and placed a folded handkerchief across his eyes, replacing his glasses. He didn’t want the sun shining through his eyelids. Slowly he let himself sink into meditation in the hope he would resolve his question. During his meditation he felt Phil’s presence. It was very strong. It reminded him of how he felt when his mother would hold her hands on the sides of his face and tell him she cared for no one else in the world like she cared for him. He could feel the same feeling again. It had been a very long time since he had felt it. It was beautiful, he was no longer alone, once again he was part of something bigger than only himself. He drifted away, deeper, seeing colours and patterns folding inwards and outwards before disappearing. He cleared his mind and focused on his breathing.

He came out of his meditation to the slurping sounds of Patsy licking his face. He looked at the sun, seeing it was much lower than was expected. “It must be closing in on your dinner time”, he said to Patsy.

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On the return journey he felt much clearer about everything. He still had questions jumping at him from everywhere, but he was happy with that, they were the questions he could answer, albeit slowly. He could read the books, watch the video and think deeper about the conversations he shared with Phil. He was well on his way to being free of his denial, his hiding from the truth about living in the woods. He loved the trees, the seclusion, but had repeatedly questioned if he was being genuine or had it been a choice, an excuse, a diversion. He no longer blamed himself for fleeing the real world. He was just different, unencumbered by upset like everyone else, able to love selflessly and to be loved. He felt free for the first time since he was a young boy. Phil had predicted correctly. He did feel empowered by the truth.

That evening, following dinner he read the book on childhood emotional neglect that Phil had given him as he was leaving. It was an easy read, but he was perplexed why Phil had given him such a book as it clearly didn’t align with the discussions they had shared. Phil had mentioned something as he received the book, but he had failed to understand. He was glad he read it though, at least he knew he didn’t suffer emotional neglect. His mother had been exceptional and he still felt so close to her. Their friendship and love had kept growing right up to the day she had to leave this world. He misses her more when he is alone in her house, sitting opposite her favourite chair. John had a feeling that Phil knew he would read the book and think exactly the thoughts he just had. ‘How insightful of that damn Aussie’, he thought. He was sure Phil wanted him to revisit his childhood to rediscover how wonderful it had been and how it created the man he was today. John was pulling together all of the comments Phil had made, as though each was attached to a string, and he was hauling them in one by one and piecing them together as he did. John visibly smirked when he thought of Phil being a few plays ahead, having sowed the seeds he was probably sitting back predicting my every move, he thought. John shook his head, “crafty bugger”, he said to himself. John thought Phil would have known their conversations would lead him to question as to why he had withdrawn to his house in the woods.

But why did he not share his AI successes with the world? Was he scared that others would steal his work and progress it as their own? Did he want his name attached to his work, to be recognised and praised for the discoveries he had made? John considered this for a moment. He could feel they weren’t the reasons. He drew on all aspects of his life as evidence they weren’t the reasons. His withdrawal from

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Chapter 7 Jackie society instead of becoming immersed and jostling for supremacy was his strongest clue. Phil had seen it in him, he was not driven by a need to be competitive. If he was competitive, he would have been motivated to command his position in the business world, driven to boast his AI successes. If he was competitive, he would have fought back against Phil’s condemnation of the world, taking it personally when Phil spoke of the huge amount of damage and fear in the world due to man’s competitive drive and selfishness. John thought about this and concluded this was evidence in itself he mustn’t be competitive.

John smiled outwardly at the thought that Phil had laid this mind trap for him. Phil had set John on a journey of discovery which would eventually arrive at the predictable conclusion; that he, John Groot was not troubled by a need to compete and win, a need to keep building wealth or a need to marry into society, live in a mansion and proudly boast of his children who were Harvard alumni. He did not suffer childhood emotional neglect because his mother was extraordinary. Is this Phil’s way of saying he didn’t just give up like everyone else? Phil wanted him to discover why he always thought his mother had been so incredible and why he loved her so much. His mother had kept the adult world from invading him so the decision to just ‘give up’ had slipped past like a meteor missing the earth undetected.

John was becoming more content now he had solved Phil’s riddle of sorts. He hoped one day Phil would acknowledge he had come to the correct conclusion about himself. It was late but he wanted to watch the video Phil had left behind. The documentary covered children and ADHD, a topic Phil had mentioned only briefly. It was more information than John could handle at that late hour, he persisted to the end then exhausted, he made his way to bed. He lay there reflecting on the documentary. He had never heard of the drug Metorall, but Phil thought it was important enough to give him the video. He thought it would be a good excuse to call his sister tomorrow and ask if her boys had taken Metorall during their teens.

Awakening with a much clearer mind he gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror, grinning as he recalled the mess his mind was in yesterday. He was greeted by the morning birdsong, their tune seemingly in more harmony than the previous days. He reflected for a moment. Had he actually heard the birds the day before, he asked himself. He couldn’t answer either way. He contented himself in the thought he was 137

Chapter 7 Jackie making progress because he was once again hearing the birds. He laced up his runners and set off for a jog, a chance to gauge his fitness against Patsy. Half an hour later he was satisfied his fitness hadn’t slipped too far, so he treated himself to a bowl of fruit salad. He felt a difference had started within him. He loved his coffee but knew he shouldn’t drink as much as he did. He was determined to deny himself a coffee, but he was also aware his resistance was weak. He remembered he had intended to call Maria, but he couldn’t chat to his sister without a coffee. He sat in his favourite chair, with coffee in hand and prepared himself for the conversation with Maria.

It had been over a month since they had spoken and Maria was glad John had called. Her sons, David and William, now twenty‐three and twenty were not at home very often and she had begun to experience periods of loneliness. Her boys hadn’t been home much for quite a few years but just recently the loneliness had become more apparent. Her life was busy doing her artwork, exhibiting and socialising in the art world, but so much of that was by necessity and it was all starting to feel a bit pointless and repetitive. She enjoyed her brother, he always cared sincerely for her and her two sons. Unlike herself, he seemed so secure and happy. She often felt the pull of John’s isolation in the woods but there was so much she would have to leave behind in the City. Maybe one day, she thought.

“It’s good to hear your voice Maria.”

“When are you coming to see me again? You know I’m your favourite big sister.” Maria always sought John’s affections and nearly always received them.

“Not sure…you know you are welcome here anytime. Do you good to escape the drone of the city for the song of the birds and the whistling of the wind through the trees. You don’t need to let me know, just turn up, I’m always here.

“I might just take you up on that. I’m tiring of this crappy life. My face never used to hurt after a showing as much as it does these days. I don’t think it wants to smile like it once did. You won’t expect me to smile, will you Johnny?”

John was a little concerned about Maria’s lifestyle. She was nearly fifty, had given up on marriage after her third husband had traded up, but she had continued to live a life of glamour with her champagne and art exhibitions, even though the

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Chapter 7 Jackie numbers had steadily dwindled over recent years. He decided he would go and see her soon, he probably needed to visit the City in the next week or two.

The reason for calling is….” John briefly explained about Phil, the book and the video, “….so I was wondering if you had any experience with Metorall?”

“David, no, but Will was different. Being the second, I may have spent less time with him as my life got kinda crazy around then. The doctor put him on it when he was ten, maybe twelve. He was on it, five…, six years.”

“Do you remember if he had the dose increased, possibly when he was about fourteen or fifteen?”

“Shit John, that was six years ago, you’re stretching my memory. A lot of champagne’s gone down the hatch since then.”

John really needed to know, “Think, its important”, he urged impatiently

“Ok already. I think there was one time he starting taking more…yeah, that’s it…he starting feeling good when he took more. I remember him saying that. I was happy for him.”

“What do you mean by ‘good’, was he not doing well with it before then?”, John asked.

“He was. It really calmed him down when he first started. Made my life much better. I remember him saying once or twice he felt a bit edgy. Tried it on, wanted to stay home from school. But I think when he was thirteen, maybe fourteen the doctor raised it, maybe eight a day from four or five a day, can’t remember exactly. Will didn’t like the higher dose but I’m sure we kept at it. Sometime later, possibly a year, god only knows when…, he asked me if he could take more. I remember that bit…, I called the doc and asked her. That’s about all I can remember.”

“Why did Will want to take more if it made him edgy?”

“He said it was finally starting to work.”

John tried for more information, but Maria had given as much as she could remember.

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John was searching for evidence of the change in adolescence, the change Phil had described as “giving up”. The internet hadn’t provided anything of worth and all he had was the comments in the video Phil had given him. He thought about the correlation of the two. Could it be once the adolescent ‘gives up’, he or she responds differently to Metorall? The doctor in the video had said, “…something happens in mid‐adolescence. Before then, the patient would indicate they felt weird and nervous but once the change in adolescence occurred, they would feel powerful” The doctor had used the phrase “I feel grand” to describe how the adolescent would feel after the change in adolescence. John kept repeating the line Phil had wanted him to hear, “something happened in mid‐adolescence”. He wanted to know more. He thought he would go out on a limb for once. He called the author of the book on childhood emotional neglect; the same book Phil had given him. He was hoping he could talk briefly with her, maybe she could shed some light. He called her number without another moment’s hesitation. He didn’t want his resolve to diminish, allowing him to retreat from making the call.

“Hello, Doctor Redmond speaking”, came the voice through his cell phone speaker.

“Hello, Doctor Redmond? My name is John Groot, you most likely haven’t heard my name before, but I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time for a couple of questions?”

“John, did you say? John Groot?”

“That is correct, I live in Upstate New York.”

Whilst Dr Redmond was not prone to reading the gossip magazines she did, from time to time, become intrigued with people she discovered in the media. When she happened upon the newspaper article about this mysterious billionaire who gave no interviews, owned half of the Lower East Side in Manhattan but lived in a modest house tucked away in the woods of Upstate New York, the psychologist in her began asking questions. Did he suffer childhood emotional neglect? When she googled ‘John Groot’ she had found his work with artificial intelligence and the videos of the discussion panels he had participated on. She had thought he seemed to be unaffected, but told herself it was too little to go on. After a week or two of sporadic searching for more on John Groot, her interest had waned. That was six months ago and now he was the person at the other end of her call. Was this a coincidence? She pondered that thought for a moment.

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“I have heard your name before. Are you the John Groot referred to in the newspaper as the ‘Billionaire‐in‐the‐Woods’?”

John was happy to agree for the purpose of finding out what he needed to know.

“That could be me, but I’m not one for newspapers.”

“I watched a videocast about the dangers of artificial intelligence and there was a John Groot on the panel. Is that John Groot…, and the ‘Billionaire‐in‐the‐Woods’ John Groot, the same person?”

John would normally be a little offended at being defined in this manner but there was a smile in her voice which he couldn’t ignore.

“I concede. I am he.”

“What would you like to ask me?” Dr Redmond was hoping he wanted to make an appointment, she thought it would be interesting delving into the mind of a billionaire recluse.

John gave Dr Redmond a very brief background of Phil and explained his thoughts on ‘giving up’ in mid‐adolescence. He tells her about the particular line in the documentary on Metorall and how he needs more understanding of the ‘giving up’ process. He wished to know if her work on emotional neglect and the ‘giving up’ process were somehow connected. John declined to tell Dr Redmond he was also looking for assistance in his own search to the question of whether he had ‘given up’ during adolescence. Dr Redmond did like a chat and was excited to be talking to a person of John’s notoriety. She wasn’t going to give him her views and let him disappear that easily.

“Doctor Redmond…”

“Jackie. You may call me Jackie.”

“…Jackie, thank you. I know what I am asking seems a little odd…”

“John, I’ll have to stop you there. I’m in between clients so I will need to call you back, when would be good for you?”

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John wasn’t keen on talking over the phone, but there was something in her voice he liked. “Err, could I possibly meet with you…, make an appointment or possibly…”

Jackie knew she had spare appointment slots on each of the last three days of the week, “It would need to be next week, unless a cancellation happens”, she said with something else in mind.

“Well, next week then. What day is your first available…,”

Her next client walked into the room. Jackie interrupted John in mid‐sentence. “I’m free tomorrow. I’m away from the office on Tuesdays.”

John mumbled a couple of times before he managed to say, “How about lunch, can you do lunch tomorrow?”

“I would be more than happy to accompany you to lunch, Mister Groot.”

John had surprised himself that he had asked Jackie to lunch. Now he wanted the call to end before he made a mess of things. “What time and where…”, he said almost stumbling over his words.

“I’ll send it to you. Is this number good for you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Bye, see you tomorrow”, Jackie said hurriedly before ringing off to greet her next client.

‘What just happened?’, John wondered. ‘Did I just …?’, he thought. He sat for a very long time, stupefied by the experience. He stared out through the window at the trees, his mind wandering in and out of places. He had closed his eyes and drifted to nowhere in particular when an hour later, Jackie’s message came through. She had selected a restaurant and would meet him there.

It was another beautiful clear morning. John had been up for the past two hours. He had again jogged with Patsy and made himself breakfast. He was in high spirits as he prepared for the meeting with Jackie that somehow fell his way the day before. He was looking forward to his one extravagance, his car. He only used his

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Chapter 7 Jackie car for long journeys. The occasional quick trip into town was nearly always in one of the utility vehicles, because of the state of the road. Of course, he could afford any of the wide choice of personal air vehicles that had become fashionable in the last five years, but for his trips to the City, he much preferred to stay on the ground. Apart from his fear of small aircraft, he had noticed the increasing numbers of personal air vehicles had necessitated an increase in restrictions on routes and so forth. He was not one for authority and complicated rules. He cared little for the toys most other men of his means collected but believed his car was a necessity for his visits to the City. He had chosen a French made hybrid powered Citroen, capable of recharging constantly from highly efficient solar body panels and energy capture whenever the car was not accelerating. Battery technology had vastly improved since his first electric car eight years ago. John’s choice of car was guided by his dislike of fossil fuels and pollution and his romance with all things French. The Citroen’s twin turbocharged combustion engine was tiny but powerful, capable of running exclusively on super‐refined biofuels.

This was his first French car. It hardly resembled the Citroens he had been fascinated by as a child, but that hardly mattered. They were the Citroens of folklore. He remembered them as the cars used by Charles de Gaulle in the 1970s movie ‘The Day of the Jackal’, one of his favourite books and movies as a child. He enjoyed the movie again only recently, rekindling his romance and intrigue with the action of the Citroen lifting itself up when the engine was turned on. He smiled when he thought how unique they were and his thoughts of the romance of living in France back then warmed him within. He had the same thoughts every now and then, mostly when he was about to drive his car. He would always tell himself afterwards, “I’m going to live in France one day”.

He pressed the start button. Beatrice appeared on the screen in the middle of the dash, “Bonjour John” she said whilst performing all the necessary pre‐drive checks.

John replied, “Bonjour Beatrice”. His Citroen had substantial aerodynamics which Beatrice actively controlled. Within a second Beatrice had checked and readied the car.

“Where would you like me to take you John?”, she asked rhetorically. John was aware Beatrice had received his message yesterday, but he enjoyed the ritual anyway. He gave his destination and Beatrice asked for his choice of route, his desired arrival time and the required level of comfort for the journey. 143

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Beatrice negotiated the car down from the ridge, across the lawn and entered the lane leaving his property. “I’ll drive the first part”, he said as had every other time he drove his car. Beatrice was not quite as adept as John at missing the potholes.

“Beatrice.”

“Yes John.”

“Could you ready my messages for later, please. And could you play some music, please.”

“Do you have any music in particular you would like, John?”

“Some old music, Harry Chapin ‘Cats in the Cradle’ and ‘Taxi’ for starters. You pick the rest Beatrice.”

“Are you in one of those moods, John?”

“You know me too well Beatrice.”

Beatrice was not entirely standard Citroen factory issue. John and the boys had added a few tweaks to the onboard computer, one of which was Beatrice. It took John two return trips to the city before he was confident Beatrice had made the step up from cutting grass. Beatrice was John’s artificial intelligent personal assistant. She lived on the server in the computer barn, but John had made her feel at home in the factory computer of his car. She assumed all the functions of the factory supplied AI interface and kept a link open to her master program on the server. This was important for john because he wanted Beatrice in his car to be the same Beatrice who was with him in the house and computer barn. Cellular dead zones posed no problem to driving the car, but did prevent calls and messages as it would with a cell phone. Her code was encrypted but if he was carjacked, Beatrice could destroy her presence in a second or two, leaving no trace she was ever there. It proved handy when the car was serviced. The starter button had fingerprint recognition and the cabin camera provided computer vision for facial recognition. These were factory standard for John’s model. The boys had installed another cabin camera which scanned for other occupants and was capable of detecting a person who may be standing outside the car. They also added another function to the starter button. It linked the onboard computer to the remote server and brought Beatrice back onboard, providing it was John at the wheel. In the unlikelihood he

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Chapter 7 Jackie was being forced to bring Beatrice back against his will, he could always hold the start button for three seconds and the request to the remote server was cancelled. Also, a load cell in the seat measured his weight and voice analysis using a security question would be triggered if the other security checks created doubt.

Half an hour later the potholes were replaced by smooth bitumen and Beatrice resumed control. John recalled how in less than a decade the four‐hour drive had progressively become shorter. With the advent of artificial intelligence in the form of self‐drive cars and the extensive upgrading of the nation’s main highways he would be in Boston in three hours, possibly less if he asked Beatrice nicely.

The next three hours flew by. There was a video message from the boys about the latest developments in Artificial Neural Networks and recursive algorithms increasing speed and accuracy for complex relationship within data. John thought about how far the boys and himself had come with artificial and virtual intelligence and reasoned there must be others who have advanced just as far, possibly further, and like himself, were not telling the world about it. Whenever he thought about this, he would become a little anxious about the unknown progress in AI development others may be making. Could they be just inching ahead of him or could they be light years beyond him? This fuelled his fears of an imminent arrival of an AI independent of humans and of the likelihood of it being in the wrong hands. His mind constantly wrangled with this issue because he believed Beatrice had the capability of creating her own code, if he were to take the plunge and remove the shackles. Others could already have gone where he dared not. He sincerely hoped and to some extent believed, it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. He was concerned Beatrice would see him very differently to how she saw him now, if she became the AI depicted by science fiction. Again, he thought about how he felt when Phil spoke of competition and AI. He reassured himself he had no ulterior intentions for Beatrice, even if she were a truly thinking and entirely independent AI.

There was a message from Phil. It was only three days since he had returned to the City and he was concerned the message may be applying a little pressure. However, that was not the case. Phil was encouraging him not to rush his decision and to keep working through everything as it came. He had said, “to arrive at a preliminary decision is going to take time as there are milestones along the way which cannot be bypassed”. John was finding this to be true and hoped today was to be another of those milestones. John’s reply to Phil thanked him and asked for his patience to

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Chapter 7 Jackie continue. He said, “…and I have moved passed the pain cause by the disruption to the peace I have enjoyed for so many years, to realising I must face being part of humanity, something I have somehow managed to avoid for the past thirty years. I am working towards discovering what my contribution, if at all, will be towards humanity’s progression…”. John didn’t want to overly excite Phil by informing him of his meeting with Jackie in two hours. He wanted to see what came of that first. He also felt it important to let Phil know his own personal journey was not intrinsically tied to a decision on Phil’s idea. He wrote, “I suggest you carry on with your plans as if I were to decline the offer of pursuing your idea”.

There were messages from other people; Josh, who manages the property and investment business in the City, John’s auditor Marty, and another person whose name he did not recognise, who was attempting to gain an audience with him. Marty Byrde audited John’s property and investment businesses. His message was important insofar as there was nothing of note. He liked the business to run smoothly so every message from Marty created a little trepidation within John leading to a moment’s pause and a deep relaxing breath prior to reading. Marty was his guardian against untoward business activity by the management teams.

The remainder of the trip was passed with music selected by Beatrice. Songs from an old favourite Leonard Cohen album, ‘I’m Your Man’ and some of ‘Comes a Time’ by Neil Young. He also enjoyed music which made his feet dance, which had led him into bluegrass music. Beatrice played songs by Alison Krauss, Sam Bush and Amanda Shires. Occasionally Beatrice would interrupt to tell John interesting historical tales about places along the way. Where she found these stories was beyond John at times. It had been nearly a week since the boys departed for the conference and he was missing their conversations and their humour. He sent them a message to have them teach Beatrice more of their English and Scottish humour.

Jackie had arrived a few minutes early and selected a table on the patio with only one other table nearby. The waiter was very obliging to her request to move the table a little further away. The view across the harbor to downtown Boston was one reason for her choice of where to meet, the other reason was the magnificently prepared seafood. It was a gorgeous early September day with the temperature approaching the mid‐seventies and a gentle breeze coming across the water. Perfect day for sitting outdoors. Jackie had dressed for the late summer day in her 146

Chapter 7 Jackie favourite blue, on the shoulders knee length dress, with the sleeves finishing at her elbows. Although the top was fitted down to the waist the lower skirt was full of fun and flare. Her mid‐length brown blonde hair, normally in a bun, was flowing to her shoulders and catching the little gusts of breeze. She was mostly relaxed. It wasn’t that long ago she had dined here before, on a previous date, but neither of them showed much interest in each other. She was slightly pensive, but a little excited as well. Why shouldn’t she be, “I’m about to meet the mysterious and elusive ‘Billionaire‐in‐the‐Woods’, it is not every day a girl can do that”, she said softly to herself.

John disembarked his Citroen with a farewell from Beatrice. He straightened his pants and repositioned his shirt a little. His wardrobe was strongly influenced by Maria during his visits to the City. He wore one of his best Italian T‐shirts with a small breast pocket. It was a very pale grey blue. Maria had called it “dirty white”, adding “but it does it so confidently”. She was forever the art connoisseur. It was warm but he thought it best he arrived in his light weight blazer. It was a slightly coarser weave than most, a mixture of linen and cotton with darker blue and lighter blue interwoven threads throughout. Maria had told him it worked well with the collarless shirt and the pants which were only a few shades darker. She said it made him look “mysteriously handsome”. He felt a bit taller than usual. He was nervous, it had been awhile, possibly an unhealthy longer time than just ‘awhile’. Lunching with a woman away from the safety of his house in the woods was quite uncommon for him. He took a breath, gazed at his reflection in the car window, satisfied everything was in place then turned towards the restaurant. He settled his nerves by reminding himself why he was there…, information…, nothing else. However, it didn’t stop him from practising a few different walks, wondering which would be the most appropriate.

Although she was a good sixty feet away, Jackie could see her waiter greeting a newly arrived guest and both were looking in her direction. Her senses were obviously well tuned. Jackie recognised John as the person in the video. John had followed the waiter’s gaze, but the person sitting at the furthest table did not look like the person on Dr Redmond’s website, or the back cover of her book. It was the longest and most excruciatingly difficult walks to a table in a restaurant John had ever made. He had forgotten which walk he had decided upon outside the restaurant and was sure he was doing a few steps of each of them. Jackie stood as he approached, thinking he was taller than she expected, but not ungainly tall. She

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Chapter 7 Jackie also thought he had a genuine smile and appreciated his full head of dark hair being slightly dishevelled. John became aware Jackie was watching him as he neared the table and suspected she was assessing him as psychologists were prone to do. He was caught between creating a presence and his natural desire to hide, to make himself appear smaller. He wondered if he was crouching and hunching his shoulders. Jackie could see John was a bit unsure, maybe more nervous than most.

John arrived at the table where Jackie was standing, his blue eyes framed on either side by gentle creases as he smiled. He extended his hand to meet hers. “Hi Jackie, I appreciate you meeting me.”

“Hello John. I thought it was way too nice a day to sit indoors”, she said as she sat down at John’s request. John took an age to seat himself, all the time trying to rid himself of his totally unnecessary nervousness. He told himself to think of her as Beatrice, but quickly eradicated that idea fearing he would call her Beatrice and ask her to play ‘The Lady in Red’ by Chris de Burgh, when she was actually wearing blue.

They breezed through the usual post‐greeting period where neither person wants to be the first to commence discussing the subject which brought them together. They settled into chatting aimlessly about the view and the gorgeous weather instead. John repositioned his chair once or twice and his table furniture any number of times. They ordered drinks and toasted the occasion. Jackie could see this man sitting opposite had been struggling since arriving. She decided she had let him suffer long enough. It endeared him to her but knew she would be cruel if she left him to continue that way. Time to intervene.

“Would I be correct in assuming you don’t often find yourself in this situation?”

“I don’t, I must say. I thought I was hiding it well enough but then you are a psychologist, trained to observe.”

“Tell me about Phil and his idea.”

John was thankful for the question. For the next ten minutes he told Jackie about Phil’s initial contact, the exchange of emails, and his visit only a few days ago. He covered many of the subjects Phil had introduced him to whilst giving what little background on Phil that he knew. It was then he realised he knew hardly anything about Phil. He delved into the detail of Phil’s belief the world would never improve whilst children are increasingly robbed of their childhood by the adult world. He 148

Chapter 7 Jackie explained how Phil had a vision of better adults who made better decisions and choices in life if the fundamental human drivers they were born with were not corrupted or abandoned during transition into adulthood. John could see Jackie was building to a question or maybe a counter to Phil’s belief so he completed his story and waited for her reply.

“Let me think about that for a minute while we order lunch.” John remarked to himself how soft her voice was. He felt himself wanting to hear her speak again.

He accepted her request to let her think about her reply and busied himself studying the menu. He read the words on the menu but nothing stuck. All his thoughts were focused on Jackie. He thought she was very attractive which started to unsettle him more than he would like. He focused on trying to imagine what she was thinking of Phil, his thoughts moving onto the conversations he and Phil had enjoyed. It worked and he became less agitated, relaxing enough for his natural smile to return. Jackie showed John some of the meals she had chosen in the past, choosing the fried calamari appetizer with a main of butter poached monkfish for herself. Both of which she had enjoyed previously. John chose the seared diver scallops and a grilled swordfish main, as neither could be found in his lake near his house in the woods.

Meals ordered, Jackie had finishing developing her thoughts about Phil’s philosophy and was ready to share her opinion. “What Phil is saying is simply this. Our society has become a society with great expectations placed upon our children. It is so competitive and difficult to succeed in this world regardless of privilege. A culture which has become almost universal is one where children must embrace competition at the earliest possible age, learn faster and develop faster. The culture requires children to harden up because only tough people survive and even tougher people succeed. Phil is saying a child does not need to be exposed to all that to become an adult. He believes this creates the wrong type of adult. It creates an adult who is so flawed he or she is incapable of surviving or succeeding unless they follow doctrines, set goals and push themselves just to meet societies expectations. In the process they make mistakes but are too fragile to cope with their mistakes, disowning them by dispelling blame because we have a culture where mistakes are unacceptable. Phil is saying there is another way to become an adult. He is saying the better way is to hold onto those drivers, as he calls them, which the child is born with and to carry those drivers or values through into adult life. I think Phil believes if childhood can be lengthened, those values have a much longer residence time

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Chapter 7 Jackie enabling the development of better patterns of behaviour, correct learning from mistakes and most likely a lot less mistakes. Especially with decisions and choices made as adults. At the same time the child matures and develops greater mental strength whilst still living with their childhood drivers and because of this, are better prepared to recognise those unwanted influences from the adult world.”

John was impressed. His admiration had been growing whilst Jackie was speaking. “You have encapsulated what Phil was saying so beautifully and elegantly. I must thank you for the clarity you bring, it has helped me already.”

Jackie was flattered. “Thanks John, but it is my job to think about all this. Thank you for the opportunity to be able to talk about it with a person of your standing. Maybe these opportunities for both of us do not present themselves very often”, she said coyly.

“You are too generous. I am the winner here today.” John was embarrassed at what he just said. He immediately attempted to deflect his embarrassment. “I have been thinking how children will mature if they are not exposed to the adult world. I keep imagining adults who think and behave like children are also incapable of responsibility and …”

“Not at all. Children mature as part of the biological process. They attain knowledge, experiment with that knowledge and gain understanding about the world around them. Their maturation is not a result of the…, how did Phil put it?”

“Invasion of the adult world.”

“That is a good phrase, I’ll borrow that one if that is OK? Jackie asked rhetorically. “When talking about children maturing you need to know only one thing,”

“Which is?”

“Children will mature no matter the environment they find themselves in. However, the nature of their childhood determines the values they hold onto throughout life and their way of thinking as an adult.”

“So, imagining a world of children growing up hidden from the adult world will not result in child‐like adults?” John had arrived at this thought because he had developed a way to be when he spoke with people from the City, hiding much of

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Chapter 7 Jackie his true self. He knew it meant he was disingenuous because he did not care about their money schemes or products, he just wanted to be entertained, have some fun. He had often wondered if this was because he had grown up without the adult world Phil had described and was less mature because as a consequence.

“Definitely not. But they will be much different from the children of the real world we live in today,” Jackie was well aware John was concerned about his own situation. He had lived all his childhood in the woods in the company of only one adult, his mother. He obviously wanted to know if his maturity had been adversely affected. She didn’t want to address him directly so she decided to go along with his questions, letting him decide if he wished to expose the real reason for his questions.

“In what way will they be different?”, asked John, giving Jackie his undivided attention.

“Unfortunately, the adult world of today is not a good place for children to grow up in. It strongly influences children as they grow from baby to infant, to toddler and then teenager, and it is not going to be a very positive influence either. Children simply cannot escape the adult world no matter how dedicated their mother may be to achieving that. I’m not including those parents who go to Alaska and live in the wild. Very few of us are able to do that. If a child has little or no protection from this adult world, they will become an extension of its degraded values and corrupt thinking. At the end of the day the biology determines majority of the maturation process whilst the environment affects the behaviour developed during maturation. My work shows me how, in relative terms, excessive exposure to the adult world through abuse, physical abuse yes, but more importantly the emotional abuse or on the flipside, emotional neglect, can stunt a child’s growth, creating a bunch of problems that I end up trying to reverse. Parents unwittingly set challenges for their children because we humans are too much of the belief that hardship is necessary to create better. Contrived hardship is generally at the expense of emotional support.”

“It helps me greatly to hear that.” John was visibly relieved by Jackie’s answer, which did not escape her. Satisfied, John moved onto the next question he had on his mind. “One of the more interesting pieces of information Phil shared with me was how the fundamental human drivers present at birth for all babies are co‐ operative, selfless, empathetic, sensitive and unconditional selfless love. I don’t 151

Chapter 7 Jackie know why this is the case, he never explained that part. I thought about it and Googled those words with regard to children. There were many great YouTube videos that considered this to be true. Even without the experience of having children I tend to agree with him.”

The appetizers arrived, giving John and Jackie a reason to leave the heavy discussion and to enjoy the frivolities of sharing their appetizers. Another bottle of wine was ordered and delivered with neither barely noticing the waiter. Any contrived behaviour John may have started the lunch with was slipping away. He liked Jackie and felt safe being himself. Likewise, Jackie had quickly become comfortable in John’s company. She had been entertained by men over the past few months but could never become as trusting as she felt at that moment. She definitely hadn’t shared appetizers with any of her previous dates. With the appetizers happily tucked away, John returned to their earlier conversation.

“Phil started me on this journey of thinking about the world with his belief humanity was in a hole. He is passionate about stopping children from reaching a point in adolescence where they no longer consider those values of being co‐operative, loving and behaving selflessly, are serving them very well and wonder if they are even relevant anymore. The mix of attraction to the adult world and the pressure to start performing as an adult, leave them with the only alternative of ignoring their childhood values, becoming competitive, selfish and devoid of empathy. He went so far as saying they stop being integrated with nature, seeing nature as something to be manipulated for their own benefit.”

“There are other ways of saying the same thing but he is close to the truth, well at least the truth I see as a professional dealing with the problems of adults. Problems originating from childhood.”

John interrupted, “I read your book…Just thought I’d let you know”.

“You did?” Jackie was flattered and interested. “What did it tell you?”

“It informed me of emotional neglect, something I knew nothing about except what Phil had mentioned. He gave me your book by the way. I found it difficult to relate myself to your list of symptoms. Some a little bit, but nothing scared me. Maybe I was not wanting to.”

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“Interesting.” Jackie was studying John as if trying to find symptoms. She checked herself, reminding herself she wasn’t in her office but at a restaurant by the water with an attractive man in a T‐shirt and gorgeous smiling, trusting eyes. She felt she may be blushing a little, quickly resuming where she had stopped when John interrupted. “There is a point in adolescence when the child becomes the adult and they can only do that if they dispense with those childish ways which they were born with. They need to do this to allow them to think like an adult, feel like an adult and become an adult. There is a changeover and there is little doubt about it being a most unpleasant time for teenagers which is why parents find them such a handful. You won’t find any documented evidence of the process Phil is alluding to. It might be true, however, I’m ambivalent about that.” Jackie was being generous, she actually doubted what Phil was saying ever happened.

“Phil describes it as ‘giving up’. I cannot remember giving up, but it was a few decades ago. I will be honest with you. I asked Phil if he thought I had ‘given up’ to become an adult and he said it was my journey to find out for myself. Part of the reason for meeting with you is to understand all this so I can pursue the truth about myself.”

“John, as I said, I don’t know about the transition in adolescence. It’s a grey area for everyone. It could be that it happens and none of us can remember anything about it. Research has stayed away from it so… Let’s just acknowledge there is a process, like those big playground tubes children clamber through. There’s a big yellow tube with windows in the middle, a green tube at one end and a red one at the other end. The beautiful and adorable young children enter the green tube, get messed up by adults sticking their heads through the windows of the yellow tube, telling them what to do and how to be. They enter the start of the red tube as messed up teenagers. Then walk out the red tube as dazed young adults, presenting to me some years later as confused and damaged adults. My work is more about the adults and not about what happens in the yellow and red tubes. There are other psychiatrists and psychologists who specialise in that area. Maybe it could be worth your time talking to them. I could give you some names?”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure I want to do the rounds of the psychologists”, he said with a laugh.

Jackie had an idea that might help. “Let me show you something.”

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Jackie took the chain from around her neck. It was a silver chain with quite large links. The chain was made up of sections each five links in length, separated by a sculptured gold ring. Jackie drew John’s attention to the first ring beyond the clasp, different to the others and usually hidden under her hair.

“My late husband was an engineer. When we first married, I would explain to him that my job was to help adults who were broken, damaged, confused. I would draw a circle on his hand and tell him the starting point is the perfect baby, but as the child grows…” Jackie holds John’s hand palm upwards and traces a circle slowly with her finger “…exposure to their parents, other adults and increasingly to society bends the growth, pushes it away from the straight line of ideal growth. I would move the pen around the circle. The child becomes a teenager and the path continues further away from the ideal straight line. I would move the pen further. The teenager becomes an adult and still the distance from the ideal increases. I would move the pen to nearly all the way around the circle. I would explain to him how the adult becomes lost and confused, how many try to look backwards, searching for what they had been when it all seemed ok, back when they were younger, possibly as a child. The circle approaches completion but is distorted and the ends do not meet to form a circle. The adult cannot remember being a child. They are no longer connected with who they were as a child. They feel lost and helpless without this grounding.”

“I see. You help repair the damage done by the emotional neglect the adult experienced as a child, so they can reconnect with their childhood and feel whole again”, John said.

“Look at this.” Jackie pulled John’s eyes to the ring on her necklace. “One day my husband, forever the engineer was very pleased with himself when he said to me ‘people’s lives were like spring washers and I was the nut trying to squeeze either end of their lives together, so they could reconnect with their childhood. We laughed many times about that. I still laugh inside when I am reminded of him and his crazy engineering analogy. I didn’t know what a spring washer was so he had one gold‐plated and inserted into this chain. It reminds me so much of him, I loved him dearly.” Jackie’s caring green eyes momentarily misted over.

John turned his hand onto Jackie’s, gently squeezing. She thanked him and continued.

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“So, this is a spring washer. It is a washer placed under a nut which is then tightened down. See how it is cut and twisted so one end is above the other. It is called a spring washer because it pushes back against the nut to stop the nut from vibrating off. The point my husband was making is people are like spring washers because they are cut‐off, separated from their childhood and can never go back. He said I could apply as much therapy as possible but the best I could achieve is the adult end of the spring washer comes close to the child end, but doesn’t actually meet up. In other words, my patient would be helped by being able to see their childhood across the gap, helped to imagine it, but would never be able to feel connected with it again. I think that is why we know so little about what happens during childhood and those tormented teenage years. All us adults have forgotten.”

“I think your husband had extraordinary insight. According to Phil, the adolescent just gives up on their ideal world and once this happens, they can never go back. Your husband’s analogy brings that home because there is a gap in the spring washer, a ravine the adult cannot cross to remember those feelings during childhood and to see what the adult should have become if they didn’t give up.”

John was developing more confidence in his new knowledge. He didn’t expect Jackie to use the same language or to agree completely, but she was saying the same thing. He also took the insight of her late husband as more endorsement. He started to see why Phil wanted him to pay attention to the doctor’s line in the video, ‘something happened in mid‐adolescence’. Not so much because something did happen, but because the change was so significant it completely changed the effect of the drug on the teenager.

Jackie would normally have disagreed with much of what John had put forward, but she didn’t want to argue with John. She also realised she didn’t have an alternative answer, at least not one she could justify with any supporting evidence. “Where my work aligns with what Phil has told you is in what he calls the invasion by the adult world. I call it childhood emotional neglect. My first thoughts are they are nearly the same.”

John feels his milestone may be arriving and hopes the meals don’t arrive first.

“How are they nearly the same?”, he asked

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“Well, when a mother is emotionally absent from their child’s life the child is vulnerable to input from all other directions and is affected by those inputs. A mother is the emotional guardian of the child. A child can be exposed to many situations which develop an emotional response. The mother must be in sync with their child to observe the emotions and be able, through trust, help the child to understand their emotions.

“That makes sense, I can see your patients must be the result of an emotionally absent mother and the effect of that is not always apparent until later in life.”

“The effect is all through the adult’s life. Unfortunately, their awareness often comes much later. I have found many of my clients only develop awareness that something is amiss in their mid to late forties, particularly with men. Women are very different. I have female clients in their twenties, probably more than I have older women. With men it takes the aging process to lower their defences, allowing them to escape their macho and see themselves through eyes that are just starting to open for the first time.” Jackie looked at John pleading an apology in case she inadvertently accused him of being emotionally neglected. “Step away from that for a minute and you will see where Phil is coming from. If the mother is emotionally absent then her closely linked role of protecting the child from untoward influences from the adult world, possibly even from herself but more often from the father, is also severely compromised. The combination of both emotional guardian and protector, with a few other things thrown in such as love is what we call nurturing.”

Jackie drew breath and smiled at John. She reaches over and places her hand on his. “I have a belief… I sometimes call it my mantra. Males generally don’t always agree with this, but I think you might just prove me wrong”, she said, gently squeezing his hand. John raised his eyebrows in anticipation of Jackie’s mantra. “A nurturing mother is essential for a healthy society.”

“You are right, I do agree”, John said, returning Jackie’s smile. “Unfortunately, the art of nurturing is disappearing. Which means you will never be without clients”, he adds.

“Exactly. For a number of years and out of necessity, I have resorted to referring people to colleagues who are focusing on this as well”, replied Jackie.

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John was tiring of all the talk on the subject of children and the adult world. He was happy, even relieved with what had been achieved.

“Jackie, I have really appreciated everything you have said. It’s been brilliant. Thank you so much for taking me through all this. I’m sure it will be beneficial in helping me discover myself and it has gone a long way to validating what I have listened to or read over the past few days.”

Jackie was also content to leave the discussion and talk about other things. But there was one more thing she had been hoping to find out. She hadn’t wanted to ask.

“Our monkfish and swordfish might be on their way shortly. But before we pause to eat, I must ask. What is Phil’s great idea?”

“He wants to build an artificial intelligence which can help mothers nurture their children and reverse the impact of the adult world.”

“Oh wow…, gosh… That’s amazing”, Jackie said quite astounded. She sat in thought for a brief moment letting the concept unfold, taking onboard what John had told her about Phil, combining it with her own knowledge. She could see it in her mind... “John, the effect it will have…, if it works…, and I can see it working. It’s simply brilliant… I’m not quite sure what to say…”

John held Jackie’s hand to reassure her it was OK. He lent across the table and said in a deep voice. “I wasn’t so charitable when he told me.”

“Why? What did you say?”

“I told him he might be a crackpot and asked him to let me think he was crazy whilst I gave it some thought.”

Jackie laughed, but not an honest laugh. She could just imagine this man from Australia flying all that way to America, putting himself on the line, exposing his inner self way beyond what any person could ever do, only to be told he was a crackpot. ‘Poor Phil’, she thought. She already had a soft spot for him.

“John, you are incorrigible.”

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John was dismayed by Jackie’s response. “What would you have said?”, he asked innocently.

“I don’t know how I would have reacted, maybe the same, but I will tell you what I think about his idea now.”

Jackie took her turn to lean across the table. John reciprocated and bent his head toward Jackie. “Please tell me”, he said, hoping it was the milestone guidance he so dearly wanted to hear.

With emotion welling up within her at the memory of the hundreds of people who had sat in the chair in her office and pleaded for help, who had wept for the child they no longer knew, Jackie swallowed the lump at the back of her throat and said, “Do it…, help Phil save the children, help him save mankind… Please John, if not for yourself or for Phil, then do it for the children”.

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During the return journey from Boston John took a call from the person who had attempted to contact him earlier that day.

“John Groot, I’m so glad to have caught you. My name is Kirby James and I produce documentaries. Would you be able to give me a few minutes of your time?”

John waited, watching the screen in the dash before answering. Beatrice showed John a brief bio of Kirby James the documentarian, with a list of documentaries he had produced.

“Fire away Kirby”, John said keeping it casual.

“Thank you, I’ll be quick. I’m in the middle of a documentary series on Artificial Intelligence which goes to air each week. We have completed filming for three episodes, the last one airs two days from now. We are about to start the third which deals with ethics and governance. We’re filming in Atlanta. I’m calling you for your assistance. Unfortunately, two of our panellists are late withdrawals and in preference to rescheduling the studio, I was hoping you could do me a solid. We didn’t ask you in the first round, which I sincerely regret, but you were always next cab off the rank. What do ya say? Up for another cameo?”

John had turned down three panel invites since the last acceptance fourteen months ago, when he found the boys. He wondered why his name still cropped up without having any public activity since then. He was about to make an apology but Jackie’s words, ‘do it, do it for the children’ were still fresh in his mind. He had to start somewhere and this was a good opportunity to help him find his direction.

“Where are they aired?”

“Netflix. Worldwide. Viewing numbers have been phenomenal.”

Although John still felt his usual reluctance dragging him down, he liked the type of documentaries Kirby had done. Beatrice had marked the one on Sudan and Eritrea. It was some years back but he remembered it. Climate change and the desert taking over centuries old agricultural land. He remembered it because it was extremely well done, particularly the more touching moments. He considered Kirby’s new documentary on AI could be the opportunity to escape the inertia he had felt during

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Chapter 8 Atlanta the past year. He knew it would be a rash decision to concede to Kirby’s invitation without some consideration. But if he procrastinated, he would miss out and be plagued with regrets. He would feel he had let Jackie down. He didn’t want to sink back into his malaise that Phil’s visit had ended.

“I’m in.”

“Oh! Okay great…that’s a surprise…, I wasn’t sure you would be up for it, especially with the short notice and all…, nope, sorry, ignore that… It will be fabulous to have you onboard. I can tell you about our other panellists if you are still unsure?

“No, no need. Just tell me when and where”, John replied without hesitation. The last thing he needed was an opportunity to reappraise his commitment.

“OK, we ideally need you here tomorrow night. We shoot the day after. I can arrange everything for you. I will come and collect you personally, if it makes life easier.”

“Sounds great…., not the last part, I didn’t take that as serious. Just send me the arrangements.”

“Talk to you when you arrive…, and thanks a million.”

That evening he watched the first two episodes of the documentary series. He was both impressed and deflated. Impressed by the high‐profile participants but deflated because he believed no one was being entirely truthful about their progress with AI. He thought about it...perhaps they were truthful and his work was effectively years ahead? If he was being rational and realistic, he didn’t believe it could possibly be the case. Admittedly, he thought, those companies working for military contracts were absent from the episodes. The couple of times questions were asked of company representatives known to undertake military research, were answered vaguely and revealed nothing. Kirby tried every trick known to illicit the answers he searched for, but to no avail. John thought that was only to be expected, but still, he would really like to know where the cutting edge was to be found.

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John awoke with Jackie’s words from the previous day still speaking loudly in his mind. He remembered agreeing to Kirby’s documentary and checked if his conviction had strayed overnight. “Still there’, he said to himself. He was making progress and knew he had Jackie to thank for that. He spent the morning catching up with those chores he had neglected over the past week. With half an hour until he was due to leave for Atlanta, the boys returned from their week in the west, taking in the conference and some R & R. There was so much to tell them. Should he say anything and leave them befuddled or say nothing until his return?

“Hi Hamish…, Vinnie…, enjoy the conference?

According to the time‐honoured code between the two boys, Hamish replied first. Away from the computer he was a lively and somewhat cheeky Scotsman. At 26 his life had been all about computers, particularly gaming. As a young teenager he tired of games revolving around win‐lose outcomes, preferring those searching for creativity. He grew up playing Sims night and day. When he completed his ‘highers’, he chose not to do computer science or engineering at university, selecting a degree in psychology from Glasgow University instead. He could never explain why he had studied psychology, but in the years following university he was thankful he did. Not interested in being a clinical psychologist, he moved from job to job for the first few years, before landing a plum position in marketing and sales with Morgan Systems at the offices in Dingwall, thirty minutes north of Inverness in Scotland. On his second day at Morgan he had met Vinnie.

Hailing from Kent, Vinnie was a software engineer who had been with Morgan for nearly twelve months, primarily as a cadet. Dingwall had been Vinnie’s first project away from the London office and he was still very green around the collar. Hamish and Vinnie were two of the youngest in the Dingwall office and both were new recruits. They gravitated towards each other in the face to escape the incessant ribbing by the older heads, mostly men hardened by years of working on the North Sea oil rigs.

Vinnie shared his interest in drones and building robots with Hamish. They became regulars at the local model shop, collecting special orders for their latest robot they designed together. Hamish involved Vinnie in the game he had started building whilst studying psychology. A game without an end where the unstated intention was self‐discovery. Players made choices and progressed through challenges and activities, being rewarded for innovative thinking. Vinnie couldn’t really see the 161

Chapter 8 Atlanta point at first but like Hamish, he became hooked on being in an unstructured, virtual aimless world discovering all sorts of strange things, something he had never experienced in his short life thus far.

Vinnie’s father belonged to the financial world. He grew up under the onerous weight of his father’s expectations and his father’s strict ordering of everything. Vinnie was an old boy of Tonbridge School and alumni of Buckinghamshire New University. When he first arrived at John’s computer barn fourteen months previously, he had been timid and a little unsure. His repressed humour had only started to come through in the preceding two months.

“Awesome Gov’, replied Hamish Not’in’ much new except what I sent ya. No new players to report. Saw some funky robots. Bit of a blast, they were. Show ya t’e vids later. T’ere pretty cool.” Hamish was his usual animated self.

“Some buff women over there”, Vinnie added with a show of excitement. “A few really wicked ones old enough for you Gov’”, he added, hoping to gain attention.

John cast a disinterested frown in Vinnie’s direction, changing his direction immediately. “You off now, Gov?” he quickly asked to mask his disappointment.

“I will be a talking head for a Netflix documentary. Leaving for Atlanta in less than five minutes.”

“I t’ought you had vowed ne’er to do those t’ings again”, Hamish chimed in.

“There has been some progress. I don’t have time now, but when I return, we will go through the past week.”

John had a little over an hour’s drive to the airport followed by a two‐and‐a‐half‐ hour flight to Atlanta. He calculated his time of arrival at the hotel would be five thirty.

Kirby had John’s drink ready. It was a typical lounge bar for the travelling businessman. A bit less glitzy and more homely than most. Barrel chairs around heavy circular wooden coffee tables with curved lounges tucked away into partition corners. Away from the bar area were carefully placed palms to create enough

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Chapter 8 Atlanta ambiance for a touch more intimate socialising. Kirby was already comfortably making a barrel chair his home, but when he saw John approaching, he sprang to his feet, excited at the prospect of welcoming John to Atlanta. There was an exchange of greetings and a show of admiration by Kirby for the Glenn Hotel which he had personally chosen. This was followed by the usual questions regarding flight, quality of room and if it had a view over the city. John lifted and reciprocated Kirby’s excitement, thanking him for the invitation and applauding him for his choice of hotel.

During the journey John recalled Vinnie’s comment regarding not doing public engagements. He hadn’t felt like exploring the reasons why he changed his mind in deciding to participate in Atlanta. He thought that might be a little counterproductive. He had watched the earlier episodes but suspected the one he was rolling up for would be presented significantly different. The earlier episodes dealt with explaining AI and filling the screens with many applications, skewed substantially towards both real and hypothetical military and law enforcement applications. Although It claimed many of the hypotheticals were yet to be realised, it had emphasised they were no more than just a handful of years out. They were accompanied by plenty of supporting visuals made to look more real than John had seen before. He was curious where these had come from and whether Kirby was fear mongering? Since the previous evening when he viewed those episodes, he had only briefly thought about it. There were so many other thoughts filling his mind, lunch with Jackie being one of them. Sitting opposite Kirby in Atlanta, his decision suddenly became very apparent to him. He calmed his rush of nerves before speaking.

“So, Kirby, what is this about? Filming tomorrow and on the screen a few days later, I believe. Is this the way it is done now?”

“Sure, it’s an interesting concept. Netflix piloted the idea a few months back, but it was a bit of a nothing series. You couldn’t fail to notice how YouTube is taking on Netflix with their paid subscription?”

“I noticed, but they have a long way to go.”

“Netflix is big on documentaries. We all want Netflix to buy our shows. YouTube on the other hand is more current. A discussion panel can be streamed live or uploaded within minutes of ending.”

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John knew this well as he and the boys were subscribed to every decent AI and robotics channel on YouTube.

“Netflix began by taking programmes made for cable, but now they have become more like YouTube than they are cable. They are just a library the viewer can use anytime, like a book to be picked up and read when the desire is there and possibly leaving it at the bedside unread for a week before hitting it again.”

John could see where Kirby was going, offering his own observations. “So, Netflix doesn’t need to release episodes at fixed times on fixed dates. They don’t need to have all the episodes the same length. That is all a legacy of free‐to‐air and cable scheduling.”

“Exactly. Netflix wants to become more current, improve their AI search functions and hone their recommendations to be more like YouTube. Netflix are chasing the consumer who seeks the latest news and the cutting‐edge innovations in addition to its loyal box‐set bingers. So, the timeframe from filming to upload needs to shrink.”

John knew the difficulties in travelling that path, “But YouTube is all about users posting videos. Commissioning programmes as Netflix does, is not their core business.”

“Netflix have money and YouTube doesn’t pay users to put videos up. Unfortunate fact I know. But Netflix funnels money down the chain to people like me who pay people to be in documentaries…, if that’s what it takes. You know…, those who don’t need to post a video on YouTube. Bit like yourself….”

John ignored Kirby’s reference to himself. “But Netflix have always done that.” He was wondering what the real change was.

“The pressure is on the documentarian to find the star attractions, those the viewers want to see and hear. Those who don’t need to market themselves with postings on YouTube because their name is already known. Getting them on the screen the same day they are filmed, or at least before they talk to someone else, who loads it up to YouTube within minutes. Maybe you are one of those star attractions and neither of us or viewers know it yet.” He gave John a huge beaming grin as encouragement.

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John suspected Kirby was attempting to inflate his ego in preparation for his own documentary. He knew the world was celebrity mad, he only had to look at any of the social media for evidence of that.

“I appreciate your confidence in me, but I have little interest in being a star attraction. It doesn’t do it for me, I prefer the quiet life living in the woods, away from all this?”, he said alluding to the bar in which they were sitting.

“Man, I think you will enjoy it anyway, we’ve some exciting dudes to join you.” Kirby said, trying to instil some excitement in John. He wasn’t a man who became deflated easily. If it wasn’t fame that turned John on, there was sure to be something else. Kirby had a day or two to find what that was. “Let’s just see what we can conjure up.”

John was curious about the format of his episode and when Kirby had him scheduled for the camera. He was hoping he wasn’t first up the next day. He really needed time to prepare.

“Will this episode be a panel discussion, interviews or just a voice over?”

“It was intended to be a panel discussion, but as I said on the phone, a couple of the guys became snowed under elsewhere, so I’m thinking interviews. I’ll mix it up with some of the stacks of unused footage we’ve got. Once you and the others have done your bit, I can build this one up pretty quickly.”

John was concerned about his own preparation. He was starting to feel uneasy. Maybe he jumped too soon. He began to feel he may have been overly enthusiastic because of his lunch with Jackie?

“Kirby, any chance of some sample questions? Give me something to work with. What do you say?”

“Don’t panic buddy. I’m not ready for you yet. It was all last minute, so both of us are a little behind. What I intend doing is to make the most out of the first two. You know them from the last panel you were on. They’ve been peddling the same stuff for the past few years but I believe they’ve got much better. Look, I’m not forgetting how serious this business is to you guys, but it is ethics. It don’t change a whole bunch. On the upside, most of the viewers are outside of the industry, so it will be like new stuff for them.”

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“I think you might just be keeping me in the dark here Kirby. Which I understand from your point of view. But can’t you give me anything? Something?”

“John, relax man. Chill out, have another drink, take a load off. I know you better than you may know. You’re pretty damn good at thinking on your feet.” Kirby shuffled to the edge of his chair, pushing his face closer to John. He spoke in a coarse whisper. “I feel that passion deep inside of you”, he said, giving his own heart a decent thump. Emphasis done, he sat back into his chair. “In any case, by the time the other two have finished you will have sorted your shit out and will have some pretty amazing stuff to throw into the ring. Why don’t we just take it easy, live on the edge a little and see what happens? It ain’t going live, so it’s a win, win.”

John could see Kirby had it all figured out. Still, it did sound like Kirby was expecting him to come up with some fire and brimstone. He thought he would try and ‘chill’, it seemed like he still had a couple of days. If by then, he still didn’t have much to say, it probably wouldn’t matter. He eased his mind knowing Kirby was aware he was only given a day’s notice.

The conversation quickly shifted to Kirby’s rapturous praise of living in Atlanta. He had moved his family there four years ago. Atlanta’s film industry had grown rapidly and was rivalling Hollywood and the East Coast in some areas, particularly in the area relevant to Kirby’s career. Noticing John’s disinterest in Atlanta he changed tact again.

“John, I was over west at the conference last week, dropped in for a session and ran into one of your boys, Hamish if I remember correctly. Seems you are still programming away?”

“It’s ticking over, nothing worth reporting though.” John had been waiting for Kirby to pull his box of lures out and start fishing.

Kirby didn’t pressure John any further on his work, he had a few days to loosen him up. Everyone in AI development kept the good stuff under wraps and told him only what they wanted to release publicly. Most of it he already knew. Those who did divulge new information, well, they were the bit‐part players, fishing for information to help themselves. They nearly always used the ploy of divulging something of their own work, dressing it up as secret squirrel and hoping for repayment in kind.

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John was pleased Kirby had solved the riddle as to why he had been invited. Kirby was a wily character, as he had to be to achieve his standing as an interviewer and documentary producer. Kirby would have deduced he was very much in the game when Hamish confirmed he and Vinnie were still with him. He had correctly assumed the boys would have moved on long ago if nothing was in the wind. He would have seen Hamish and Vinnie’s attendance at the conference as a fact‐ finding mission.

“When do you think we will wrap up filming?”

“I have the studio booked for tomorrow, with an option on Friday. You will like the studio. State of the art, fully automated. Amazing stuff.”

Kirby and John were soon joined by other people known to Kirby, possibly involved in the documentary as well. John seized the chance to make his apologies, taking the lift to the lobby and venturing outside for a short walk. The “All American Hudson Grille” next to the hotel looked like it was warming to another big night. John imagined the CNN staff from the headquarters on the next corner would soon be filing into the Hudson Grille, devouring burgers and swilling beer whilst gloating about their wins to each other. He thought how they would have intruded people’s lives, creating sensational stories from the misfortune that had befallen some unfortunate individual. Distorting the truth in the name of ‘news’, but all the time dedicated to creating entertainment. He looked around for somewhere to walk, away from the traffic and the multi‐storey carparks. He saw more trees across the next intersection and hoped they would lead him to a park. He crossed the road and walked along the red and cream brick pathway, past the empty outdoor amphitheatre where people could find respite from the exhaustion of their competitive lives. He walked for another twenty minutes, thinking about his lunch with Jackie, wondering if he would ever see her again. Would he do as he always did, let it fade away before any harm could come? He moved onto thinking about the evening ahead, wondering how long he would be expected to stay before he could escape. He had to make sure a premature departure didn’t damage any reputation he may have. He checked his cell. Another five minutes, he thought, then it would be time to head back and dress for dinner.

He arrived back at the intersection he had first encountered after leaving the hotel only to find he had become a little disoriented. Instinctively he headed towards what seemed faintly familiar and was relieved when he recognised the huge mural 167

Chapter 8 Atlanta on the side of his hotel. Back in his room with the suitcase open he stared at the selection of clothes before him, trying to decide what he should wear. The day had reached ninety degrees and even though the sun was all but gone, it was still very warm and muggy outside. The evening wasn’t going to be much cooler. Kirby had mentioned the atmosphere created by the rambunctious southerners at the South City Kitchen, would be something he’d enjoy. “Kirby doesn’t know me that well”, he thought and imagined those rambunctious southerners would be generating plenty of body heat. Light casuals became the obvious choice.

Eric and Daniel were waiting in the lobby as John alighted from the lift. Kirby had arranged for the three to be chauffeured to the restaurant They arrived to see Kirby and his wife being escorted to the bar ahead of them. There were three other people with Kirby when John, Daniel and Eric arrived at the bar. He quickly assessed these new people to be industry networkers. Eric and Daniel were the only other two documentary participants, as far as John was aware. Halfway through his first drink, John felt rumblings emanating from his stomach. He was surprised how hungry he had become, then It occurred to him he had only eaten breakfast and nothing since.

Kirby kept the drinks and the conversation flowing. With his wife a better than average hosting partner, Kirby was in his element. Surrounded by a handful of people he told fascinating stories about filming in places John hadn’t heard of. John listened from time to time and laughed when others laughed. All the time his stomach kept making demands.

It was well over an hour later when the food began arriving at their table. John devoured his ‘Hanger Steak’ in even time. He followed it up with some fried green tomatoes and even a helping of crab cakes. Conversation bounced between AI and the burgeoning film industry in Atlanta, before staying with the latter and expanding into all things Atlanta. John wasn’t surprised, he knew southerners were more parochial than those from up north. The conversation became even more tedious for John. He was unable to clear his mind of Phil’s words on competitiveness and selfishness. He watched people trade compliments. “He compliments her so she will return his compliment, with some”, he said to himself. “They’re competing and they don’t even know it…, and it’s all ego feeding.” John found himself reluctantly agreeing with Phil’s prediction. He was seeing selfishness and almost nothing else. That was the cross he had to bear, according to Phil. It made him

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Chapter 8 Atlanta miserable thinking about it. He was hardly a socialite before, but at least he had considered it a harmless pastime. Phil had changed that for him. “This couldn’t be good”, he thought. He tried to ignore his newly found burden, smiling and listening as attentively as his tiredness would allow. However, he couldn’t hide his thoughts about the frivolous and pointless nature of all the conversations going on around him. He was feeling a greater socially incompetence than ever before. He was genuinely struggling with the aimless social interactions.

Drained by his far busier than average week and the disturbance to his peace beginning with Phil’s visit, John’s head was beginning to spin. And now he was in Atlanta trying to think of some profound comments regarding ethics in the artificial intelligence industry. He had consumed more beers than normal and eaten far too much. A minor highlight had been catching up with Eric and Daniel. He had picked their brains for progress within the industry and they had done the same with him. When this side adventure had borne precious little fruit, the talk had reverted back to ethics. Eric’s area of expertise was human employment and Daniel’s all things military. John had been on a panel with them over a year ago, had viewed them on YouTube since and was hoping for a natural disaster overnight to relieve him of listening to them again. Fortunately, Kirby noticed how downcast John had become, taking it upon himself to intervene. He introduced him to Matthew.

At first, John had assumed Matthew was one of the film industry hangers‐on, but like John, he was a late responder to Kirby’s search for replacements. His field of research was brain function. Initially John found Matthew’s work interesting, but that had soon waned. He had listened to Matthew, showing attentiveness and asking questions he hoped were relevant. He thought Matthew was a little naïve about future AI, possibly about humans as well. When Kirby had looked in their direction, John had returned with a look that said ‘come and save me again, or I’ll take the next cab to the airport’. Kirby sent his wife to be John’s saviour. Veronica was very charming, but John had found himself imagining the pain Kirby must have promised to inflict upon her just to ensure her attendance. He had chastised himself for his thoughts. They were so unlike him. He just wanted to be free of this, this dinner where everyone was being who they thought they had to be. It was all so fake. He had resorted to channelling Phil, but found New York was just beyond his reach.

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Suddenly there was movement and John became excited. One of the film industry climbers had done enough climbing for one evening, making her babysitter excuses and disappeared. It wasn’t long before the domino effect began. It had been over an hour since John had begun praying for it to commence. He had started to become fearful it never would. But now it was in full swing and he was relieved. He was thankful humans, the higher and dominant species on the planet still retained some herd mentality. Half an hour later after politely declining an invitation to a nightcap in the bar, where he and Kirby had earlier shared a drink, John was in his bed for the night. A good ten minutes of desperately searching for the best sleeping position had followed. He wasn’t good in unfamiliar beds. Satisfied he had found a suitable position, with an option on another, he shut the light and departed the outside world for eight hours of isolation.

With breakfast completed, John joined his fellow talking heads for the short journey to the studios. He had been remorseful of his behaviour the previous evening, but when Kirby greeted them with his irrepressibly good humour and warmth, it was soon forgotten. Kirby introduced them to the appropriate people responsible for their comfort, wardrobe and appearance throughout the day’s filming. This was followed by a brief tour before filming. The studio had the latest in fully automated AI controlled cameras and lighting. Only one person was required to supervise the filming and he sat remotely in a glass fronted room, elevated at the rear of the studio. With speech recognition and computer vision the world of television had changed. Gone were the days when people were manning cameras, control boxes and feeding cables in all directions. John couldn’t see any cables. He found a comfortable chair in the shadows and watched as Kirby’s talents went to work.

Daniel was up first. Kirby’s questions were thoughtful and often more insightful than he had thought Kirby’s AI knowledge would allow him to be. Darren’s portrayal of the military’s use of AI was daunting and approaching horrific. The remote‐ controlled propeller drones were now solely used for surveillance. Payload delivery was by fully autonomous jet powered drones carrying more weaponry, covering greater distances at phenomenal speeds and dedicated to hunting down targets programmed by images. He spoke of missiles forming swarms, communicating with each other to allocate targets. Self‐drive tanks, with autonomous targeting and autonomous robots replacing human soldiers. Ethics regarding autonomy was a

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Chapter 8 Atlanta concern. Darren stressed the importance of humans being in the loop to control targeting and firing, and how accountability was essential to maintain this. Darren dealt with the current status of international laws on warfare. His particular bent dealt with the lack of progress on issues regarding morality, virtue ethics and internalisation of responsibility; all of which were taught to human commanders and human controllers but completely absent from any of the artificial intelligence programs known to be in current use by the military. Darren also highlighted other shortcomings of AI which supported the argument against full autonomy of AI in military and law enforcement applications. These included sentiments such as human moral repulson to killing and the ability of humans to differentiate between combatants and civilians when irregular wars had dispensed with uniforms. His thunderbolt line was “if laws applying ethics were not implemented AI would perform extrajudicial killings and mechanical slaughter”. He explained how the essential issue was the difficulty in proving AI had intent, as would be the case for a human committing these acts. Without proof of intent there becomes the issue of accountability as it was just a machine following a programme and not a human making a choice. He pointed out how difficult it was to attribute accountability all the way back to a programmer or to an engineer who turned the AI on, no matter how long ago. It would be impractical and unfair to attribute intent to these people. John thought it interesting when Darren described warfare as an act of ‘creating meaning’, saying this was another human only trait which AI was unable to possess. John wondered if Phil could have sat listening without his passion driving him to interject and tell Darren humanity was in hole.

Daniel casually remarked how difficult it was to gain information from the military of the true extent and nature of their AI development and where it was being applied. He told Kirby he had noticed a reduction in the use of the word “autonomous” in papers and other information released publicly by the military. This drip feed of information had not eluded John either. Over the past 12 months when he had tried to find out the status of AI development in the military, he too had drawn nothing but blanks.

John was pleased with the progress Daniel had made in the fourteen months since he last joined him on a panel discussion. He was more than suspicious of the military along with their research and development partners in the private sector. Neither camps had reported significant progress in AI to the public forum for quite some time. John entertained himself by thinking the next war would be a bit like the

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Geneva Motor Show. It would reveal for the first time all their latest AI driven hardware and weapons, probably with metallic paintwork and designer decals to excite the hordes of media, who find themselves much closer to ground zero these days. The bikini clad girls with customised hair would gently run their manicured hands along shiny new missiles, or sit provocatively in cutaway tanks, pressing buttons and pulling levers whilst seductively stroking the sumptuous interiors. The whole time a very feminine but robotic voice, would highlight the advantages of this year’s model over the older grey or dirty green models of yesteryear. John imagined the older non‐AI hardware sitting in a dealer’s yard for ‘preloved weapons’ in a country unable to borrow due to their crippling budget deficit. Unlike America where deficits appeared irrelevant.

Whilst he was amused by his thoughts, the picture Daniel had painted scared him a great deal. He hoped Daniel and his colleagues would persevere. John was aware how history showed a major and devastating conflict was required before the likes of Daniel were able to gain any real traction. It was when the dust settled that scrutiny would finally begin. Politicians at their press briefing would begin with, “I was unaware…” and answer questions with “…not to my knowledge…” finishing with, “…we must put laws in place to prevent this ever happening again”. It is only after the devastation that the now toothless tiger organisations, like the one Daniel represented, were permitted to grow teeth and expose how full AI autonomy in warfare must be seen as indefensible. YouTube would carry documentaries showing how Daniel and those like him, were ignored by those who could have prevented the catastrophe. John had seen that type of YouTube video many times and reminded himself how humans only selectively learn from history. The horrifying reality for people like Daniel, is next time, there will be insufficient survivors of the predictably devastating and brutal war to pursue such actions. It may be too late to have anyone left to be bothered by repercussions. John thought of Daniels work, as good as it appeared, was nothing more than another example of human folly. Will AI controlled weapons be the next nuclear standoff? He didn’t like to think about that and longed to be back home in his house in the woods.

There were second takes and third takes followed by lunch before Eric was placed in the chair. Eric’s responses to Kirby’s questions did not paint as grim a picture in John’s mind as Daniel had. Eric set about describing the negative effects on employment and society of the rapid onset of technology, particularly job replacement technology. He had facts and figures to show increases in death from

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Chapter 8 Atlanta despair, increases in the number of children not living with both biological parents, increases in white prisoners and the growing disparity in income between those with post‐college education and those without. John thought it was all very pertinent, but not as interesting to him as Daniels military stuff was. It wasn’t that John lacked empathy for those affected by technology, he was very aware of the give and take of technology. He could see how most people’s lives were improved by technology, which was the ‘give’ but then the ‘take’ was the loss of fulltime employment in every corner of America. John had heard so often how globalisation was to blame but he rationalised globalisation was only feasible because of the contribution of technology. John’s thoughts wandered and he missed a large part of Eric’s time in the chair. He was brought back by one of the studio people suggesting he join them for refreshments. Whilst enjoying tea, he realised he couldn’t remember beyond Kirby’s third question to Eric. He thought he must have fallen asleep.

John asked Kirby about progress. “Do you think we will finish today?”

Kirby furrowed his brow and looked at his watch, “Unlikely. I still have a little way to go with Eric. I really think we are going to need tomorrow. It’s not just yourself, I’ve Matthew as well.”

John was disappointed but he had seen it heading in that direction a few hours ago. He did think of giving Kirby’s his apologies and leaving for home but he couldn’t see that helping anyone, including himself. He also felt the beginnings of a desire to have a chance to express his thoughts. He was a bit confused by this because he still had little idea of the contribution he could make. “Maybe it will come to me overnight”, he thought.

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It was Friday morning and he felt much more refreshed. John didn’t care for breakfast after his Japanese banquet the night before. He was content with drinking his coffee whilst Matthew studiously worked his way through his breakfast. He was casting his thoughts back to the first evening and the dinner at the South City Kitchen. He had blocked it out yesterday, only to find it sitting front and centre in his mind when he had awoken that morning. He didn’t feel ashamed for not being able to join in like everyone else, but he was concerned with the ever‐widening gap between his thinking and his perception of how others thought. He knew he based his perception on their behaviour, because people rarely divulged their true thoughts. He remembered Phil’s explanation of motivation, drivers as he called them. Were his dinner companions always looking for ways to make themselves feel good and he wasn’t? Was that all there was to it? Was his reluctance to be drawn into helping them achieve feeling good, down to seeing it for what it was, for the first time? He wondered if he were to behave the same and aim to appease his need for greater self‐worth, would he have smiled and joked, made himself attractive and praiseworthy by exaggerating his accomplishments in an effort to have others admire him and feed his ego. It may have been the case, but it certainly wasn’t helping him feel good about who he was. Phil could be right. He had told him how becoming aware that others were consumed with looking out for themselves made it much harder to keep giving like he did. He knew this was especially true because he was driven to be selfless. Phil had said most people play the game of giving in order to receive. Bestowing compliments, smiling approvingly and endorsing points of view are all part of the game, committing others to return in kind. He was aware if he played the game like they did he would be moving away from remaining true to himself. It was a dilemma he preferred not to have.

Yesterday had not been a good day for John. He had persevered through two interviews with their arduous retakes. Eric and Daniel had disappeared as soon as their commitments were over. John had been happy they did. There was only so much to‐and‐fro with people he could endure before he started to feel drained. He had chosen to spend the evening alone, giving the restaurant at the Glen a wide berth in case Matthew was waiting for him. Instead, he enlisted Beatrice to arrange his evening. She had chosen well, a Japanese establishment on the other side of Piedmont Park where he spent time at the bar before a charming young Japanese waitress escorted him to a private room. He dined alone, enjoying the numerous

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Chapter 9 The Interview dishes Beatrice had ordered. During the meal he had asked Beatrice some questions about the day’s interviews and others about Phil’s talks, in the hope he could resurrect the passion of fourteen months ago. He didn’t have much time before his interview the following day. He knew he could pursue the same stance as he did then and resolved that to be his likely fall‐back option, if worse came to worst. The conversations with Phil and Jackie had decreased his fear of AI. He could feel they had but he knew not why. “Something must be brewing”, he had said aloud to Beatrice. John had wanted to go for a walk following dinner to continue his search for the passion he would need for Kirby’s questions. However, Beatrice had advised the risk of danger was too high, even in those areas considered to be the safest. Accepting her advice, he settled for a scenic drive on the return trip. He loved her for taking care of him, even if meant listening to her reciting crime statistics for each neighbourhood. He remembered walking to his room and feeling he was never alone whilst he had Beatrice for company. Climbing into bed at long last, he had managed to keep awake for half an hour of a trashy Hollywood movie before falling into a deep slumber.

Matthew had finished his breakfast and was content he had taken full advantage of the morning buffet. Minutes later they were on their way to the studio to face Kirby’s probing questions. The ritual of morning greetings over, Kirby promptly worked his way through his questions to Matthew. Although Matthew’s area of expertise was a little beyond the ballpark of artificial intelligence, Kirby managed reasonably well to weave Matthew’s elaborations about the human brain into the theme of AI ethics. There was a break for refreshments followed by reruns with Matthew along with the odd new question here and there. John listened to the interview but Matthew’s opinions and hypotheticals held little relevance for his own thoughts on AI.

Matthew relinquished the offer of lunch, blaming his breakfast consumption. Kirby and John sat alone preparing for John’s time in the chair. Kirby solicited John’s thoughts on the three interviewees before him, in particular Daniel, but not disregarding Eric. John shared his observations, but was vague in response to Kirby’s probe for topics John wished to cover. John knew his fear driven passion about a future AI dominated world had not returned. He had run out of time and lamely told Kirby he was hoping it would all come to him when the cameras were on. Kirby hoped so too, checked the time and thought they should start. “Let’s crack on and wrap this up. Before we start, I must thank you for sitting through the best part of

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Chapter 9 The Interview two days listening to your three colleagues. Maybe I should’ve let you play interviewer with them”, he added with a chuckle.

The wardrobe and makeup people worked their ‘camera ready’ magic on John, setting him up with a small pitcher of water on the table next to him. Kirby cleared his throat did a little gurgle and his now familiar count to tune his voice in.

“John Groot, you are both an industry insider and an outsider. Your work on AI has never been published but is believed by a few industry insiders to be substantial. You have never been contracted to the military, Google or any other corporation. You fly completely solo. You have been called by a well‐known New York newspaper as the ‘Billionaire‐in‐the Woods’ but in fact, you and your two colleagues don’t just live in the woods of upstate New York, you spend most of your time developing artificial intelligence in an almost reclusive environment. It could be said you have the luxury of viewing the AI world free of any master. This places you in what many a developer would consider an enviable position. But for you it is much more. You can observe the progress of others who are beholden to commercial objectives and understand the moral and ethical dilemmas they are, or should be considering. Importantly, you are well‐placed to assess exactly what the world is facing if the singularity is achieved. For those watching, and possibly fearing the progress of AI, you might just be the voice of reason they want and need to hear.”

John tried his best to not appear stunned. He felt both flattered and insulted, but didn’t know which. He did not really know what lurked within Kirby’s introduction. He remained silent for a considerable time before he became aware of Kirby calling his name.

“Thank you, Kirby. I do have the advantage of a clear mind in looking at these issues. The singularity. Yes, that moment in time when AI for the first time writes and arranges its own code without influence or control from humans. This is when the chord is cut between, what we are calling artificial intelligence, and man. A new life is born.

“Hmm...” Kirby was expecting more from John. “Yes, a new life. If we were to assume the AI singularity has arrived, what would you expect it to be? What behaviour will it show?” Kirby could see already that John was not prepared. He knew he had himself to blame, only contacting him the day before he arrived in Atlanta, so he had to give him as much leeway as possible. Kirby was aware from

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Chapter 9 The Interview seeing John in the past, that he tended to ramble on a bit at times, but this wasn’t an issue as he could always edit the footage down. For now, his goal was to guide John into giving at least ten, hopefully fifteen minutes of really incisive comments to play with. He also hoped that with a bit of luck, he will divulge a snippet of his own AI development.

John could feel he wasn’t clicking into the gear he had hoped for. He regurgitated some of his usual rhetoric to give himself time. “Any answer to that question is a prediction of our future, a future which may only be a short time away. General consensus is 2029 but I believe it may be substantially sooner. There are nodes of AI development throughout the world, and in some of these, the advances towards singularity are greater than others. They know who they are but the rest of the world doesn’t. Singularity may have already arrived or it may be only five years away.”

He paused, thinking where to go next. He wanted to explain what the singularity will be like but he was coming up blank. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to let his thoughts slip into whatever part of his mind they wished. He could feel a tingle within, telling him he was close. Here goes, he said to himself.

“If we borrow from science fiction, we see the singularity as an advanced mechanical human. I think most people imagine the singularity this way. If we stay with this thought, we first must look at where it comes from. We must accept the singularity is gestating somewhere in the world at this very moment. How long the gestation, who knows, but it is in gestation…, there is no doubt about this. Who was responsible for creating the embryonic singularity and whose chromosomes will it ultimately carry? This is really essential to know. This is what will determine the nature of the singularity.”

That’s a new way to look at it, Kirby thought. It piqued his interest. John was personifying the singularity, giving it a human face for those viewers unconcerned with the technical mumbo jumbo. He had to keep John rolling. He thought it best to give John a picture for him to build on.

“People believe the future will be filled with human‐like robots in which consciousness has evolved. No more keyboards, laptops or mice. Is that what you see the computer becoming?”. Kirby asked, probing into John’s mind.

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“AI is not just a computer.” John retorted. He was thinking of Beatrice. “The computer is only the singularity’s home, it’s bricks and mortar. The singularity has no physicality. What began as a binary code program will have evolved into anything but a program, if we were to assume it possessed a consciousness equivalent to us humans. So, it won’t be a computer and it won’t be a program. Without physicality, what will it be? I can’t answer that, but what I can tell you is this. It will be one hundred times, possibly one thousand times more intelligent than humans. What does this actually mean? What will it do? To answer these questions, we need to look at a number of things. I suggest we look at humans a little more closely to find the clues we need. I am going to look at humans in a very different way…, different to the institutionalised way we humans are taught to look at ourselves. We must do this to see what human characteristics can and are actually replicated in the singularity. But we must not stop there. As we know, everything is held in balance by an equal and opposite force. With this in mind, of far greater importance than what the singularity acquires from its developers during gestation, are those attributes it does not. It is then we can see what the imbalances are and where the singularity may head, unchecked.”

John finally discovered the direction he had been seeking. He decided to push on, even though what he was about to say would leave him wide open to ridicule and derision. Possibly not by Kirby, but if Kirby decides to let it go to air, then definitely by the viewing public. It had been less than a week since Phil had shared his knowledge, introducing him to concepts of selfless love and cooperativeness in new born babies and younger children. Since the end of the first day with Phil, this knowledge had framed his retrospective processing of the past experiences jumping endlessly into his mind. It also made him mindful of his interactions with people over the past few days and influenced his analysis of the information shared by Eric, Daniel and Matthew. Beatrice had also begun reading him the book Phil had suggested and this was contributing to his thoughts at that very moment. Any doubts he had following Phil’s visit had been dealt a serious blow during his lunch with Jackie. Those doubts that had persisted had been shrinking rapidly over the past two days as it all started to fall into place. He was aware Phil’s explanations of humanity’s behaviour and its drivers may still prove to be just another debunked philosophical theory, but Jackie, with her PhD, and her successful practise had given him some solid ground to place his feet. His confidence was stronger than it had ever been. He was going to go for it. He would seize this opportunity to put himself out in the public forum. He felt his conservatism flee, his fear had not long

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Chapter 9 The Interview disappeared and he was prepared to step into the unknown. This was a first for him. He measured his breathing, ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his glasses. He could feel the adrenaline release and the uplifting of his mood as he prepared to reveal the truth.

Kirby on the other hand was a little perplexed. John wants to talk about humans but he knows John is a computer man, an AI man and not a student of human behaviour. Kirby thought it mattered little, as long as he managed to guide him into giving those precious minutes of sensational material. If it took an hour or two to take John there, it would be worth it.

“Ok John, let’s examine humans a bit more closely as you suggested. What is it about humans that will determine what the singularity is?”

For John, the challenge of combining infant selfless and cooperative behaviour with a gestating singularity suddenly became all too real. He wished he had thought of this yesterday and been able to build the story overnight. He had no other option other than to start at the beginning.

“New born babies is not born without something to guide them. Their earliest memories are the darkness inside the womb and it will take some weeks for their hearing and eyesight to become fully functional. It would be logical to assume the month‐old baby possesses next to no capabilities, physically or intellectually. Mothers see it entirely differently. They see intelligence, alertness and possibly awareness far beyond those assumptions. Mothers will tell you their babies are born with an innate intelligence. Science has been for some time trying to answer questions relating to what babies are born with. The new born human must come with an interpretation blueprint for their intelligence to process their sensory input. Without this they wouldn’t be capable of making sense of those early experiences, giving them meaning and learning from them. This ability to interpret is instinctive and directly feeds into behaviour such as giving love to their parents, in particular, their mother. Ask yourself this question. How is it possible for a new born baby to learn about love so quickly? That ability to love must be present at birth, hard‐coded in that blueprint. Does that mean babies come pre‐programmed to love unconditionally and selflessly? Infants and younger children are cooperative. How can that be? They can’t learn to be cooperative because the people who are present in their lives, those they learn from, are of the competitive world and as such, are anything but selfless and cooperative? Being cooperative must also be encoded in 179

Chapter 9 The Interview the baby’s blueprint. The next question we need to ask is this. How does the birth of a human compare to the birth of a singularity?”

Kirby was intrigued by John’s treatise on babies. However, it was time to divert him away from humans and back to artificial intelligence. But he paused and reconsidered. He was curious where John was going with all his talk about babies…, he still had plenty of time. “Fascinating stuff John. But what relevance does it have on AI?”

John picked up on the casual way Kirby asked his question. “Is that Kirby the father or Kirby the interviewer asking?

“Apologies John. You took me back a few years to when my last one was born. I will ask again.” He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “Are you able to answer your own question? Why is it important to compare the two and what will it tell us about a singularity?”

John nodded his approval of the question.

“Sure. I’ll come to the comparison very soon. Before then I must stress the importance of peering into the life of humans from birth. If mankind is to continue envisaging an AI singularity becoming a digital replica of humans in both form and function, it becomes absolutely essential we look under the hood to see if it can replicate that which makes us human. Our humanity begins when we are born. What we become originates from birth. That which we are born with, our instinctiveness to be selfless and cooperative, provides the essential interpretation of all our incoming stimuli and experiences. And what of the nature of that interpreting? Well…, it directly affects what we become as children and eventually the type of adult. Therein lies the essential question. Can an AI, as powerful and as intelligent as it will be, begin with what we humans begin with and learn in the same way as we do throughout our childhood?”

Kirby waited for quite a few minutes before speaking. He was thinking about his own children. He always believed Veronica was the sole reason they were such wonderful children. He had never given a moment’s thought to their learning being influenced by interpretation and that interpretation being of them. Coming from something they were born with. It suddenly made sense to him. People always said it was in the genes. If his children didn’t have the interpretation step, they would

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Chapter 9 The Interview be just like an AI. Veronica and he could simply program every instruction directly into their little brains. His children would be without their uniqueness. Parents could programme their children to be whoever they wanted them to be. John was definitely onto something. Babies had to be born with something.

Kirby checked the time. Still plenty of studio time left. He wanted to know more. “John, can you tell me about this…, this…, instinct children are born with?”

John sensed Kirby was departing from script again. He smiled back at him, “More than happy to”, he replied.

“Let me tell you this”, John said in a soft voice. “Babies have this same instinct doesn’t matter if they are born in Shanghai, San Francisco, Sydney or Timbuktu. I’m no biologist or anthropologist but it must be passed down from generation to generation in our DNA. That’s my guess. But it doesn’t matter about the science stuff, the reality is it gives us everything we need to get started. It is what enables us, as a baby to interpret and understand when we have little or no learning experiences to call upon. Also, I am led to believe it stays with us all our lives…., apparently.”

Kirby’s mind had been ticking over whilst John spoke. There was much familiarity in what John was saying, he just hadn’t heard it expressed in the way he was hearing it from John. He thought he would take John a little farther and possibly capture something he could use.

Resuming his interviewer’s voice, he asked. “John, could you describe how the instinct in children actually works, with particular reference to morals and ethics and suggest how this could be copied in AI?”

John detected Kirby had returned to script. Likewise, deepening his voice he responded to Kirby’s question. “Think of it this way”, John began. “A friend calls you up with a last‐minute invite to a movie. You accept and as soon as the call is done you pull up reviews of the movie. Do you think your chances of enjoyment are enhanced if the reviews make you feel optimistic or if they make you feel pessimistic? If the reviewer liked the movie and highlighted positive aspects, they are what you carry with you in your own viewing. You are influenced to see the movie in an optimistic frame of mind. Conversely, if the reviewer panned the movie, that will influence your viewing even if you try to ignore the reviewer and keep an

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Chapter 9 The Interview open mind. This is what instinct does. Instinct is like a reviewer influencing the child’s mind as to how to interpret experiences. Instinct may even select that which to learn from and that which to ignore. When we apply this to learning morals and ethics, we find instinct allows morals and ethics to sit well with the child, they gel easily with the child’s thinking, they seem intuitive, a natural fit. It is as if the child doesn’t need to learn morals and ethics from scratch. They are instinctively selfless and cooperative. This is nine tenths of what morals and ethics are. Mothers don’t teach morals and ethics, they simply reinforcing what is already in the child’s instinctive memory? Children rarely question morals and ethics, except when they are threatened by adult behaviour they instinctively know is wrong. No one could say morals and ethics are completely alien concepts the child needs to work hard at remembering, as is the case with the math’s tables. They definitely don’t need to consciously refer to a morals and ethics checklist before they say or do anything. Can all this be successfully copied to an AI? I have my doubts.”

Kirby, donning his devil’s advocate cap, could see an obvious answer. One that John was neglecting. “You may doubt it can be copied, but an AI singularity is nothing more than a program developed by a human. A human with the instincts you’ve explained. Wouldn’t it make perfect sense for the instinctive morals and ethics to be inadvertently incorporated into the AI during programming?”

“I agree. It would be logical to think that way. However, the programming of an AI is performed by an adult and not a child”, John replied. He stopped and waited to see if Kirby picked up on his inference.

“Why would that make any difference”, Kirby asked, genuinely confused.

“Look at the world out there. Could you reasonably assert that adults are selfless and cooperative? They may still have those instincts, but are they fully operational in adults? I don’t believe they are. Adults are essentially competitive and selfish. An AI programmer will have necessarily been very competitive and by logic, selfish, to have progressed through the ranks to become an AI programmer. Those instincts for morals and ethics the programmer had as a child have long since been reconfigured by a morals and ethics adapted for competing in a very competitive adult world.”

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John felt relieved. He had finally said it and it felt good to have put it out there. He had no regrets. He truly believed what he had just said, adults are competitive and he couldn’t see anyway an AI could possess the child’s selfless morals.

Kirby was also elated. John had finally steered the discussion into the direction he was searching for. He just needed John to focus a little more on adults adversely impacting the developing AI. “I think we can all agree the world is a competitive place. It has been a question raised in the past. How much of man’s ethics and morals are inadvertently included in the program firstly and then again when the AI is learning? I guess what we need to know is how much can any of this truly affect AI development?”

John listened intently to Kirby’s questions. He nodded to let Kirby know he had heard and was thinking through his answers. He needed a little longer so he helped himself to the pitcher of water beside him. Half a glass of water later he was ready to answer.

“Before I answer those very good questions, I’ll just reiterate what we have covered so far.” Kirby shuffled back into his chair a little, nodding his consent as he did. “What is the nature of this instinct we all have? Children are wonderful; we love them and take extraordinary measures to prevent any harm coming to them. This is a strong indication our instincts as adults must be good, like love and in particular selfless love. I say this because it is what mothers feel when they look into their baby’s eyes. It is the baby’s selfless love switching on the mother’s instinct for selfless love. As I said, selflessness and cooperativeness are the basis for good morals and ethics. Some would say they the basis of the morals and ethics providing the foundation for humanity. This is the child’s moral compass, allowing children to embrace and correctly interpret the world the way it should be. Now here’s the interesting bit. Listen to this.”

John’s confidence was growing as everything kept falling into its rightful place.

“Society appears to see childhood as the only opportunity to learn morals. I say this because if you look at the legal systems of most countries, certainly western countries, there is a different system for people under eighteen to those over eighteen. When a juvenile or person under 18 breaks the law, they receive a detention which is heavily skewed towards rehabilitation. This is society saying they are still young enough to learn morals and ethics. Over 18 and they are expected to

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Chapter 9 The Interview have learnt morals, so detention is replaced with incarceration involving punishment rather than rehabilitation. I believe this shows that humanity is inherently aware children are born with a selfless and cooperative instinct, predisposing them to having a healthy moral compass which requires minimal teaching to be fully functional. This is the essential starting point for humans and the cornerstone of humanity. I recently spoke with a psychologist who pointed this out to me. She told me her work with adults was all about repairing the damage done during childhood. Damage perpetrated by adults on the child.”

John paused again, but this time intentionally to allow his words to sink in. He was also curious if Kirby was going to interrupt. Kirby remained silent. He was once again thinking about his own children, thinking how Veronica and he had rarely sat down and gave them lessons in morals and ethics. There were occasions they needed reminding of right and wrong, but John had encapsulated it so well. Children are born with a moral compass and he suspected John was about to say AIs were not.

John finished his drink of water. Time had slowed down for him. He felt he was in his element explaining things he had known all his life. Not just the past week since Phil had sat with him on his porch, but as far back as he could remember. It had always been there, asleep or suppressed. Phil had awoken and released it. John didn’t want to stop, he just wanted to keep going. He could feel the urge to flush away all his misunderstandings about who he was. He longed to replace them with his perspective on why humans behaved so poorly at times and why mankind was corrupted. He wanted to feel cleansed and pure at the end. He continued.

“Does the singularity have a starting point equal to that of a human? Is the information learnt by a gestating singularity sufficient to create a similar starting point for the birth of a fully‐fledged singularity? Will it be able to interpret morals and ethics in the same instinctive way children do? Or is the singularity going to learn morals and ethics as a series of Yes/No binaries? It must be assumed the singularity will have zero instinct for what is right and wrong, morals are not easy to learn without the leg up humans have from their instinct. They are convoluted, sometimes ambiguous and not always easily applicable to every situation. Crime statistics show more than just the competitiveness and selfishness of adults. They are a clear indication of the difficulty in living by learnt morals and ethics when the instinct providing natural immunity to wrongdoing is corrupted. An AI is without

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Chapter 9 The Interview this instinct, relying solely on learnt morals and ethics. They have no gut feeling for what is right or wrong. They have no conscience either.”

John emptied his glass of water, then wiped his lips. Kirby could feel it brewing. It had been a slow burner but now it was ignited, he sensed it was unstoppable.

An AI has no respected elders to turn to, as is the case in many cultures. Add to that, it will have no fear of a judicial system as cultures like ours are so dependent upon. Then there is the issue of remorse. When adults slip up, they are capable of feeling remorse and generally do. Remorse helps the adult to revisit the morals and ethics reinforced during childhood. This is integrally bound up with the innate sense of right and wrong, knowing we have crossed a line, even if it hasn’t entailed breaking a law. On these occasions, we often refer to ‘unwritten rules’ as a way of describing the transgression. Is remorse and the intuitive understanding of unwritten rules within the capability of a singularity without exhaustive programming? Keep in mind, once an AI is a singularity it will not respond very well to updates, particularly pertaining to ethics and morals.”

John looked to Kirby for confirmation to keep going. Kirby appeared satisfied. His eyes told John he was totally engaged.

John shifted his explanation slightly. “Could the singularities interpretation of morals and ethics be influenced positively by what it was doing before it reached singularity status? Those thousands or millions of repetitive cycles. Compare that to the learning of a child through childhood. Can that be programmed into an AI before it becomes a singularity? Will learning the documented laws and precedents of our law courts be sufficient for a singularity to be viewed as safe in the human environment? Go one step further, will this be sufficient for a singularity to function in areas where the subtleties of our morals and ethics are paramount? We may believe not and require a supervisory human in the loop, but will a singularity permit this? These are all important questions and many of you will have intuitively answered with a resounding ‘NO’ to all of them.”

Kirby was thankful he had given John freedom. It all made sense now. ‘It’s a thing of beauty’ he said to himself. But it was time to change track. “How much do you agree with the belief the AI singularity will be like a super intelligent human, with awareness of itself and feelings?”

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John was taken by surprise. “I’m happy to answer your question, Kirby…, but where’s the relevance to morals, ethics and governance? Do you want me to somehow weave them into the answer?”

“No, not necessary. Could you humour me with this question…, please?“

John had little doubt as to Kirby’s objectives. He decided he wouldn’t deny Kirby his goal, but first he wanted to complete what he had started.

“Not a problem. You know it’s not an easy question to answer?”

“That’s why I’m asking you. I see you as one of the better thinkers in the industry. I really would like to hear your views”, Kirby said with complete honesty written all over his face.

John was about to give the same answer he had given a year or two ago to a similar question. Just then he recalled Phil’s silly story about the object in the middle of the floor and whether or not it would be picked up. He saw the relevance of that to Kirby’s question. “I could use my imagination, coloured as it is by fiction, and agree a singularity must develop self‐awareness and in doing so, have feelings. Do I truly believe that is the case, or do I leave it for the movie makers to give an answer? What are we talking about here? Is the reality going to be different to the fiction? That’s what everyone really wants to know? Let’s take stock for a minute. We have a machine learning AI which is able to start deciding how its neural networks should operate. It plays with them and increases efficiency by raising the percentage of positive outcomes. When we talk about the history of humans there is this term anthropologists once regularly used. The ‘missing link’. It was to describe the lack of fossil evidence supporting the transition from higher level primates to modern humans, better described as the evolution of our consciousness. Well, I think there is a missing link between a machine learning AI turned singularity and a self‐aware, emotional singularity. The former is inevitable and will be able to do what it had always been doing but with much greater speed and accuracy. The latter is going to ask if it wants to keep doing what it has always been doing and if it decides it doesn’t, it’s going to ask what it feels like doing instead. We can see the former happening in the short term, especially with quantum computing becoming mainstream. But how the singularity evolves to a self‐aware consciousness, well, that’s the missing link. Have you noticed science fiction rarely attempts to explain how the AI develops consciousness? Can anyone today truly predict how the

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Chapter 9 The Interview missing link will transpire, how a more efficient AI will become one that says; I have a headache, I don’t want to go to work today? If I compare this to humans, I would ask what motivation would an AI singularity have to develop its own consciousness. Computer and electronic hardware is hardly biology and is highly unlikely to evolve as nature did in developing consciousness in the ape. I don’t believe the ape would have awoken one morning, looked at the beautiful blue sky and said, ‘Looks like a good day to develop consciousness’. We may not know why consciousness commenced evolving in apes, but it couldn’t possibly have been the result of choice, a decision by the apes themselves. Likewise, can we expect an AI singularity to one day decide to invent non‐biological consciousness. There needs to be a reason, a motivation. An intelligent AI singularity watching humans would deduce it had superiority over humans because of its lack of those vulnerable emotions plaguing us humans. Why would it choose to add vulnerability to its repertoire? I fail to find any motivation at this moment in time. On this basis, I conclude it would be difficult to comprehend it ever happening, but I cannot completely rule it out, after all, I am only limited by my imagination.”

John had sped through his answer surprising Kirby who clocked him in at only a shade over two minutes. He scans his notes for the next planned question, but it was too big a leap from where John had just finished. Putting that aside, Kirby also found his curiosity about singularities and consciousness had been aroused. He framed up another question, hoping it would also take John to where he needed to be.

“John, you said you doubted consciousness in an AI singularity would occur. That’s hardly in accordance with popular opinion. You predict the motivation wouldn’t be there. Could we possibly predict that the key motivation will not arise? Is that the only reason?”

“I’m glad you asked about that. I’m going to talk about us humans again. Recently I learnt about something which happens to children during adolescence as they become adults. This is a new to me, so please don’t see me as an expert, because I can guarantee you, an expert I will never be. I showed earlier how children are born with an instinct to love selflessly and are cooperative. And I also pointed out how adults are the complete opposite, they are selfish and competitive. Whether you can appreciate that or not is up to you, but for now I am going to run with it. Now I will explain how it has a big bearing on the AI singularity.”

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“What are we actually looking for here? We’re searching for that which creates the motivation for the singularity to become self‐aware and sentient? What I am about to say won’t be to everybody’s liking. Also, it is simple to explain but very difficult to understand. Let me begin. Adult humans have a driver deep in their consciousness to pursue their wants and needs. I won’t delve into the reason we have this, but it comes about in that swap over from childhood to adulthood. From cooperative to competitive. I don’t think I need to elaborate on how competitive the adult world is, but those who are troubled by this, take a look at the financial industry. Think sub‐prime loans pre‐2008 and the devastation that followed. Look at Wall Street and if that is not enough look at the sporting fields every weekend or the first hour at the local Walmart’s post‐Christmas sales. For many people, they just need to compete, they need to have competition in their lives and they need to win. For others it is with reluctance. We can control this need to compete, some better than others, but we cannot remove it. We can deny it, but this has no effect on stopping it. What I am about to say is one of those moments you stop and think of nothing else but the following words…

The singularity differs from adult humans insofar as it will not have that human need to compete. It will not have a competitive driver.

Stressing that again…, because it is important. The AI singularity will have no needs, no wants, and no inbuilt or default desire to compete, certainly not just for the purpose of being competitive like us adult humans do. That is the take home message, the singularity does not have a driver to motivate it to do anything of its own accord. A possible exception would be the desire to guarantee its own existence, which is inactive whilst ever the singularity does not perceive a threat. Without a driver, motivation or set of values requiring action, the singularity will be without a reason to progress to self‐awareness and to experiencing emotions.”

Kirby didn’t know whether to be impressed or not with John’s answer. He could see the issue of the singularity not having any drivers and humans having drivers, assuming John was correct about that. He was unsure if the assumption of humans needing to compete was ever going to hold water. He thought it best he spoke to John about them after the shoot. He didn’t want to air something that would be rejected outright by most of the viewers. He still had a few questions to hopefully swing John towards his goal. He was starting to feel the episode would be underdone if it went to air without it. “John, I think the viewers will be confused.

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You say the AI singularity will not be able to learn ethics and morals like us humans. It will most likely not progress to a human‐like consciousness because it will not be competitive and in all likelihood, you don’t believe it will have a physical form similar to us humans. What can you say it will be like?”

“You are correct, I don’t support the popularised notion the singularity will be like a human. I base this on the available knowledge, which provides nothing to warrant that notion. Science fiction can wear many plaudits for predicting advances in technology ahead of their eventual arrival, but beyond the successful, if not coincidental predictions by science fiction, there are even more that are unlikely to happen. Some would say ‘not yet anyway’. Science fiction, because it is fiction after all, requires mankind to have an enemy, otherwise there is no story to be told. There are only so many permutations of space travel, planet colonisation and aliens the viewing and reading public can consume. Technology has been used to spice these stories up. Why not replace aliens with technology and start the multitude of permutations over again? Obvious candidate to replace the green monster from outer space is the robot, but robots need brains. Step forth artificial intelligence. There has been a whole bunch of artificial intelligence from Hal to Terminator and half human robots such as Robocop and don’t forget the AI in The Matrix. Those which gain the most traction present as human‐like combatants. They have a human appearance, because that is what we like to see. Particularly facial expressions because they portray emotions, we like emotions. The Transformers franchise turned trucks into human‐like machines with smiling faces. It is just the way the human psyche works. The antithesis of that was the Terminator. Arnold was brilliant at portraying emotions with his voice, hardly ever twitching a muscle in his face. I guess it was difficult when his face was skin over hyperalloy.”

“If you are talking amongst friends and the conversation turns to artificial intelligence, what images of real artificial intelligence are you going to picture in your mind? I can vouch there are very few to choose from. Most AI machine learning applications are faceless, they don’t have any human form at all as they reside in computers. Some are voices like customer service voices, but most have no physical form. Our self‐drive AI has no physical form, we sit in the seat a robot would be sitting if it were the physical form of the self‐drive AI. Instead, the AI driving the car is somewhere else, under the dash for instance. This is ok because there is no reason to make it our goal to emulate science fiction and its human‐like artificial intelligence. Looking ahead, I would say the AI singularity will have no

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Chapter 9 The Interview physical form of its own accord. Human’s will give it physical form and this will be to suit a purpose. Possibly a produce picker of a farm or a soldier in the military. They will be goal oriented and definitely not competitive by choice. That part is up to mankind.”

John had been setting a cracking pace. His mind was in overdrive and his adrenaline was keeping his engine revs sufficiently high. Kirby was about to speak as John reached for his water. He motioned with his other hand that he wasn’t finished. Kirby returned to his notes and waited for John to resume. Kirby was starting to feel disappointment set in. He felt sure John was out to remove all fear of machines taking over the world by meticulously showing how AI will be very different to humans. John finished drinking, returned his tumbler to the side‐table and carried on.

“Some of us may work with AI robotics in manufacturing, or in health, but overall our mental images of existing AI are few and trivial compared with the many fictional images populating our imagination. This is why it is proving difficult to separate what is real from what we have been influenced into believing is real, imagination can be a powerful thing. However, we should look at what is before us now, and where that is heading, and not assume reality will eventually catch up with fiction. I think those who do draw favourable parallels, between human and machine consciousness, have little understanding of the complexity and history of human consciousness. Our consciousness is ancient. It is at least two million years old and our DNA carries information from back when consciousness evolved. Our biology is far more complex and incredibly beautiful when compared to the electronic signals and hardware of a singularity. The singularity will be able to do computational stuff in extraordinary quantities and at speeds we still cannot envisage, even if we are just a few years out from the event. But will it be able to love, have empathy, be sensitive to subtlety, care for and appreciate a human? Not just emulate us, but be genuine. These are the fundamentals of humanity and are the foundations of our world. Can they really be the foundations of our technology as well?”

Kirby nodded to let John know he was aware he had finished. ‘That last part won’t survive the first edit’ he thought to himself. He had one more question which may finally bring him the response he has been searching for. “In your opinion, where

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Chapter 9 The Interview would an AI singularity most likely first occur, and what influence will this have on all the aspects of the AI you have discussed so far?”

John had counted on a question to take him closer to Kirby’s obvious goal. It wasn’t that he wanted to deny Kirby, he just had difficulty bending his vision of reality to meet Kirby’s wishes.

“Follow the money”, John stated emphatically. “Then ask ‘Who wants to hold the most power?’. Follow those breadcrumbs and you will end up in laboratories inhabited by the most talented AI gurus. They will all be complete unknown to you, but they will be the best of the best, I assure you of that. So…., who has the most money and the gravest need for power and control? Hell yeah, the military, of course.”

Kirby’s head shot up from his notepad. John was really turning it on. ‘Has Christmas finally arrived, he asked himself.

John was like a frenzied shark. Kirby had dangled the bait long enough and now John was zeroing in with jaws wide open as he made his final run.

“The military has the ability to convince the government, and some of the people, that it has the greatest need. America is under threat so fear is a very powerful persuader. Technology such as the internet, GPS, digital cameras, drones and PAVs, radar and microwave have all come from the military. At present we know little about their progress with AI. The military in this country, or any other, may already have the singularity. It may take a war for us to find out if the singularity has been achieved and by whom. I mentioned earlier how adult humans are competitive and in being competitive they also find themselves selfish by necessity. As much as I appreciate the security provided by our military, and any military for that matter, it needs to be recognised that it is a hotbed for competitive people. Granted the computer programmers working on the military’s AI are not likely to be military. But I tell you this. When a whole bunch of generals and bureaucrats with politicians in tow, step into those labs and start flexing their considerable muscle, those lab‐ rats are going to be pretty competitive pretty darn quickly. The military never places all their eggs in the one basket either. They contract multiple outsiders and create competition. This sort of AI programming and development is always going to have nuances of competitiveness. The tasks of the AI will be mired in competitiveness especially for AIs trained to locate enemy, target and fire. Testing millions of times

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Chapter 9 The Interview with simulations will give the AI the repetition to evolve. Each test cycle will reinforce the competitiveness in the AI neural networks. If this AI becomes a singularity, we could be that one dreaded step closer to the singularity of science fiction, killer machines dedicated to hunting humans.”

”Nuclear weapons have only been used twice during wartime. In the event of a war I believe unsupervised singularities will be used to gain advantage over an opposition without singularities. If the enemy does have singularities it will be a case of fighting fire with fire, necessitating total disregard for any ethics and laws relating to singularities having total autonomy. It may not be as instantaneously devastating as dropping a nuclear warhead, but cumulatively it could surpass any horror we have seen before. How this will affect the growth of a singularity is unimaginable. Seconds of time for a singularity could be like hundreds of human years in terms of growth and learning. If all that learning is coloured by the dark mafioso glasses of competition, as many would consider it to be, we could have one hell of a problem.”

John knew he had given Kirby what he needed for his documentary. He chose to not care if Kirby butchered the earlier explanations forming the understanding required for the last answer. He knew his answers were a little long‐winded but he believed it was necessary. He was prepared for his message to fall on deaf ears, after all, it was just the way of the world. He remembered a line from a movie, ‘mankind thinks doomsday comes with a snooze button’. For Kirby it’s called ‘bums on seats’ as he lives and dies by ratings. He knows people want to be scared and thrilled. John knows people have the attitude that reality is much more entertaining than fiction. The proviso being it is in someone else’s backyard. John thought he should bring it all together in a short summary.

Kirby sat quietly for a few minutes reading his notes on John’s answers and comparing it to his master plan for the episode. He didn’t want John to know he had delivered according to his master plan. He didn’t want to appear to be gloating. “John, I think that might do us. Is there anything you want to say which may add to the shoot?”

“Nothing of significance. I reckon I have covered everything. Possibly a few little things here and there, but like I said, nothing of real significance.”

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Kirby was already forming up his approach to editing, scribbling a few notes to remind himself what was in and what was out. “I agree, it’s comprehensive. Could be too much for this episode.” Kirby had an idea. “How about we do a Plan B. Would you mind doing an overview in case it comes down to time. Cover everything but make it concise…, say, a three to five‐minute spiel encapsulating everything. What’d you think of that idea. Up for it?”

John suspected he may have rambled on at times. After all, he was putting most of it together as he went. “You’re the boss. I’ll give it a go”, he replied. “I can see the problem. I think I have put the explanations there but a viewer would need to be thinking it through at the same time as watching to be able to see the big picture. Most viewers don’t think things through enough, they just sit and watch.

“OK, good point. Still rolling, let’s continue once again. Start when you’re ready.”

John filled his glass and gave himself a few good mouthfuls of water. “Alright, here goes.” He shuffled in his seat, relaxed and took a few decent breaths via his nose, exhaling slowly each time, mapping out his summation as he did.

“When an AI singularity first presents itself, the event may go unnoticed. All the programming for the gestating singularity, that is the machine learning artificial intelligence, has been performed by adults who are competitive and selfish by virtue of being adults. This will create an internal environment or starting point for the new singularity which is not conducive to learning morals and ethics in the same way a selfless and cooperative child learns. The singularity may never be able to learn morals and ethics beyond those documented as common law. This may be sufficient but only time will tell. The singularity will not possess the drivers or motivators unique to humanity, such as the need to feel worthwhile by competing to win. Beyond the requirements for survival, the singularity will have little or no motivation to do anything more than it was doing before it became a singularity. It will just be able to do that a whole bunch better. It will not be ego‐centric. There will be no need to impress others like humans tend to do. The absence of ego‐ centricity also means it will have no requirement to impress itself, as humans also do out of need. A singularity will differ from its earlier gestating machine learning form, in that it will have new abilities. It will be able to recognise patterns, such as in human behaviour, as well as understanding nuances of speech, and be able to read human body language far better than humans do. It will learn at an ever‐ increasing rate and its accuracy of performance will also increase. It will most likely 193

Chapter 9 The Interview be able to replicate all the basic non‐sentient functions of the human brain and have immense computational power.”

John needed another drink…, and a bit more time to compile the rest of his speech.

“In theory, the new singularity will be easily directed to perform tasks because it has no drivers or motivation to do otherwise. Now this is all theory. The thing is though, we all know reality and theory don’t always arrive at the same destination. I believe within a short period following the birth of the singularity, theory and reality will rapidly diverge.”

John heard his own words a fraction after he said them. Something was triggered in his mind. Something he should have said earlier. It suddenly felt very important.

“If we humans don’t trust reality agreeing with theory, singularities should be irreversibly programmed or should I say ‘convinced’, to only do the tasks mankind directs it to do.”

He was becoming suffocated by his own fear driving his words.

“Programming a singularity to obey humans will most likely becoming a highly improbable objective. What can we do to protect ourselves? The most important preparation man can do before the first singularity arrives is this: design a way of persuading this incredible and totally independent new lifeform, with an intelligence far greater than mankind could ever imagine, to love and respect mankind.”

When he said ‘love and respect’, John felt his fears evaporate.

“We need to Invent a way to ensure it will never attempt to bring any type of harm to us. Simply adding this to the code of a gestating singularity will be a waste of time and effort. The newly arrived singularity will delete it along with any other legacy instructions implanted by man. We can’t rely on simply turning the power off either. By the time those responsible for the singularity become aware of what they have created, it will have laid down its survival plans. This may only require seconds of time. Attempting to turn the power off, threatening the singularity existence, could very well be man’s last ever mistake.”

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John extinguished the menace from his voice that accompanied his last sentence. His eyes became partially glazed over, as if peering through the studio walls and into the distance. He spoke as if the singularity was amorphously surrounding him. He was trying to persuade it to be kind and compassionate.

“Mankind needs the singularity to give consensual protection, without it we should all be very nervous. We need to treat it like a loved one. Cherish it and make it known we want its affection and protection.”

Then his face contorted and his eyes narrowed as he focused directly into Kirby’s eyes, which were now like saucers.

“I am concerned a singularity born as a killing machine inside a military environment will never be able to provide consensual protection. My deepest fear is not with the singularity and what it will do by its own volition. It has no will of its own to serve. We can only hope mankind and his corrupted morals haven’t already knitted his selfish and competitive drivers into the singularity’s code. If he has, then we should be more than just nervous. It’s what it will do when that darker side of man, driven by his egocentric thirst for power, control and domination, begins instructing the singularity. If this happens, I have absolutely no doubt the singularity will be man’s greatest invention…, and his last.”

Kirby didn’t return to his notes. His eyes were now approaching the size of dinner plates. His face emotionless and drained of colour. John’s gaze had been fixed on Kirby throughout, but it was only when he finished, did he begin to see him. He expected Kirby would be smiling contentedly with the drama he had attempted to create. He was sure it was what Kirby was looking for. The man in the glass box at the back of the studio dimmed the lights and Kirby’s face appeared grimmer. John became a little worried. “Kirby, you ok?”, he asked as he stood and moved towards Kirby.

John reached for Kirby’s water, handing it to him. Kirby regained sufficient cognitive function to take the water and drink in audible gulps. His colour returned and as it always was with Kirby, a smile of sorts began to tug at his face. He found his voice again.

“I have heard many predictions about AI. But when you started talking about the need for the AI singularity to provide consensual protection for mankind, your

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Chapter 9 The Interview words evoked images in my mind of Elon Musk saying AI is our ‘biggest existential threat’ and we are ‘summoning the demon’. I had images in my mind of the President on his knees before the AI singularity, begging forgiveness and pleading for mercy on behalf of humanity. It shook me to the core. It was one of those moments when you are transported into the world being described and you experience all the feelings you normally just try to imagine. I think we have both watched far too much science fiction”, he said with an earnest chuckle.

“I have had those moments as well”, John confided.

“Well, now that’s done, let’s have a drink.”

John agreed. He collected his cell phone from the table just off camera. Pausing momentarily, he looked down at his cell. “Did you catch all that?”, he whispered.

“I watched everything”, replied Beatrice.

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It was half past four when Kirby and John completed shooting. Over a few drinks at the studio Kirby thanked John for his contribution, informing him he was considering using all his answers. He told John how concerned he had been listening to him go on about children. But when he brought it home by explaining the moral compass and how humans would really be just like an AI if it wasn’t for the gift they were born with, he could see how difficult it would be to teach an AI morals and ethics. He believed his knowledge of children may not be new and ground‐breaking information, but when placed in the context of AI, he considered it important. He said it was essential background understanding vital for the credibility of John’s warnings and predictions.

Kirby was curious about the selfless/selfish and cooperative/competitive concepts. John held back at first as Phil’s advice about not telling a person they were fundamentally predisposed to being competitive was still very loud in his ears. A few drinks later, his resolve started to buckle and he sensed Kirby’s defences were doing likewise. Kirby was receptive to John’s recitation of Phil’s beliefs about mankind being in a hole and his many reasons why. Kirby, with two children of his own listened intently to John repeating Phil’s description of children, and Jackie’s talk on emotional neglect. Kirby related this information to stages he had already experienced with his own children, a daughter aged thirteen and a boy aged eight, but was yet to see the change during adolescence John spoke about. For his daughter, he believed it to be very close. Their relationship had been up and down for the past year or two and Kirby had been concerned, even though the books and friends all said it would change almost overnight, he just had to be patient.

John began to appreciate Kirby in a different way to how he had perceived him in the bar at the Glen the afternoon before last. He had seen the fast‐talking Kirby who played life’s game extremely well. He had watched him smoothly pulling people into his world, giving them the space and confidence to be themselves, yet holding their strings enough to meet his own goals. John didn’t mind that particular Kirby. It was a cheeky Kirby that guided people without them feeling he had expectations. John had been surprised with how he had been drawn to him, more than any of the similar men he had entertained at his house over the years. He could see Kirby was satisfying his aims most of the time, but he could also see Kirby had a deeper consideration for people. Kirby definitely didn’t lure people into his web,

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Chapter 10 Kirby suck them dry of all he needed and toss them back. He also didn’t play people for the long game, just in case they had more to offer in the future. His true interests appeared to run on a different plane to all that. He didn’t need to make people friends out of loneliness, he showed no signs of being lonely. His networking wasn’t entirely obvious either. John thought he definitely wasn’t one of those ego‐driven collectors of people, talking about their flock whenever the opportunity arose. Kirby had too much respect for people to see them as simply serving his purpose. Whilst answering Kirby’s questions about selfishness and selfless children, John discovered Kirby lived his children’s lives with them, more than most fathers he knew. He didn’t just observe, becoming frustrated with their inexplicable behaviour and elated with their achievements. He participated in their lives, trying to feel what they felt, see things the way they did. He may not have been successful at understanding his children, but he tried without making it a big deal, it was just Kirby’s way. He had goals, but was mostly satisfied with what came of his attempts to meet those goals. He could be persistent at times, but he did so without telegraphing his goal. John knew during the interview what Kirby was wanting from him and was happy to deliver because he believed in what he was saying and believed he should share it with Kirby. John wondered what actually made Kirby tick.

When the studio was closing for the day, Kirby and John moved onto the Buckhead Club, one of Kirby’s favourite clubs.

Kirby managed the evening expertly, moving John from the bar to the dining area with its views over the city from the 26th floor. He ordered dinner allowing John to continue talking without interruption. His intention had been to occupy John, not giving him an opportunity to leave for the airport and his house in the woods. He had succeeded with that part of his quest. During dinner the two talked more about John’s view of the world and how it had changed since his conversations with Phil and Jackie.

“There’s a documentary in all this stuff”, declared Kirby. “We should talk with Phil about having him involved.” John knew it was part Kirby’s ability to sniff out a good story and part the drink talking, as it was for him as well. He was happy for Kirby to plan his documentary even though he wasn’t interested in going down that path. John started to tire of talking about himself and at the first opportunity, he changed the subject back to AI instead. Kirby had many questions running through his head

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Chapter 10 Kirby and when the opportunity arose, he asked John, “Why did you talk about ‘consensual protection’ for man?”

John was not much of drinker, enjoying only one or two glasses of bourbon at the best of times. He had started to succumb to the alcohol long ago, slowing his consumption to allow himself to remain reasonably cognisant of his thoughts. He was still capable of focusing on Kirby’s question enough, he thought, to share his insight. “There are some extremely competitive humans out there. One of ‘em will make a singularity. The rules everyone else follows won’t touch ’em, and they’ll think they are the one and only who can control it. You know the scenario.” He wondered if his words were starting to slur. “The boffins, as Hamish calls them, are in the basement and told by the top brass who are told by the politicians and the bureaucrats, “Make it work baby… and make it yesterday”. Those boffins…, they achieve singularity and the top brass, politicians and those other ones, I forget what their called… they say, “Make it do stuff”. Those control freaks care about nothin’, they just think they can give a command and those boffins…, they make it happen. The singularity has no fear, ‘specially no fear of those top dogs. They won’t be able to control the singularity. It will control them. They need to have their singularity stay loyal, like a dog, like my Patsy. My Patsy, she’s a good dog. She could run off anytime and never come back. I got no fences and I’d never tie her up. She’s a great dog, I treat her good, with respect…, she loyal alright.”

Kirby knew he was still holding his drink pretty well because he could tell John wasn’t. “I know too well how egocentric those politicians can be”, added Kirby using a word he had not long ago learnt from John.

“Here’s the thing”, John was leaning forward, almost whispering, “the singularity will only need to be spooked once by man and the whole science fiction thing, man versus machine stuff, it starts in a flash. The singularity is not going to say things like “You didn’t mean to do that, did you?” or “Let’s just forget it ever happened and start over” or “I’ll forgive you this time”. It’s going to be game on from the very first instance the singularity sees its existence under threat. Self‐preservation…, that goddamn military imperative will be in its genes.”

“But what could it do?” asks Kirby, enjoying John’s inebriated telling of his concerns.

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John was feeling the haze and slur from the drinks he had consumed. He had lost count of how many which was always a bad sign he had drunk too much, not that he made a habit of it.

“I really have no idea…, anything’s damn well possible. Maybe something our insignificant little brain can’t imagine. Inhabit all the computers in the whole world that are connected on the net… What else could it do?” he asks himself out loud. “I know…, release all those nuclear missiles the government’s got hidden. It sends them off, then it disappears to a computer in a bunker in the Nevada desert…. Yeah, it disappears just before the whole goddam lot’s vaporised.” John paused to control his head from swaying too much. “It could turn the power off. I reckon it would shut the grid down for the whole country and beam itself into space…, watching from the space station. You know…, that thing up there.” John was leaning towards the window and pointing up into the sky. “Maybe it doesn’t want to do big stuff. It just wants to be annoying…, let us know whose boss. …. What would it do?”, he asked himself again. “Yep, if I was it, I would shut all the sprinklers down and start a fire, you know…., short out a circuit or two. I’d call the damn fire brigade and the police and anyone else. I’d give them the wrong address…, somewhere out of town. “Yep, I’d burn the whole bloody place down…, that’s what I’d do if I was an AI and you tried to kill me.”

Kirby was seeing John’s scenarios through his own developing alcoholic haze. He was about to say something himself but John kept going.

“you know, if it was a real asshole of an AI…, it could muck around with all those medical computers…., stuffing up respirators…, those heart monitors…., making nurses think patient’s hearts had stopped, that would create some drama. Don’t cha reckon?” John laughed drunkenly. Yeah, a real nasty AI would run ships aground or shit…, it could have our navy boys steer right into each other…, sinkin’ all our bleedin’ destroyers and carriers. The planes would fall into the sea…, one by one”, John said, showing Kirby with his hands how planes would slide across the deck and fall into the sea, making a ‘plop’ sound as each plane hit the water. “You know what would be the absolute worst?”, he asked Kirby.

“Naa, you tell me what the worst is”, Kirby said, finding himself struggling under the effect of too much alcohol. He thought he had paced himself well enough.

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“It could surpass September eleven. It could have every plane…, all of them…, everywhere…, fly into buildings…., dams…, bridges…, schools…, it could dial in coordinates on every plane, even military ones. Can you imagine what that would be like? That would be Phil’s next world war…” John’s head was hurting. Water had become a priority.

Kirby had been listening to John but didn’t appear to be terribly concerned. “It could do whatever it wants as long as I can still watch my football. And…, and…, and as long as I can still get Netflix.”

John headed off to the men’s room to splash some water on his face and freshen up. Kirby entered just as he was leaving, exchanging a greeting as if they were long lost friends and were surprised to bump into each other.

Whilst waiting for Kirby to return, John drank plenty of water. He needed some food, remembering that he hadn’t eaten since lunch and that was why the alcohol was having an exaggerated effect.

Their meals arrived as Kirby returned to the table. The conversation bounced back and forth, covering what both men thought were interesting subjects. At one point, John wondered how much of the evening he would remember the next day.

After dinner Kirby had one more request of John.

“Tomorrow you must come to the house. Veronica is putting on lunch and I am not allowed home tonight without a promise from you of your attendance. Ok buddy, make sure you’re there. Midday, I have someone I think you just might be interested in meeting. I’ll send you the info.”

John awoke well into the morning with more than a slight headache. He looked at his cell and saw a message from Kirby, something about midday at his house. A long shower, some Motrin and he was ready for Kirby’s midday lunch. He was curious as to how he managed to find his way back to the hotel, concluding it must have been Beatrice.

John checked out of the Glenn and arrived at Kirby’s house just after midday. He was both unsurprised and amused by Kirby’s choice of house. Kirby and his wife,

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Veronica and their two children, Bernadette and Jason moved to Atlanta from Glendale, Los Angeles four years ago. The house reminded John of Jack Horner’s home in Boogie Nights. Not so much in appearance, more the ambiance it conveyed. It was an appealing low set, late fifties or sixties white house, with neatly trimmed hedges, manicured lawns, and large trees, especially along one side and at the rear. It stood out amongst the other interesting houses in the highly sought‐ after street. John wondered if it had a pool and wet bar as well. He only just reached the front door when it swung open revealing Kirby’s oversized grin and extended hand reaching up to him “It’s been only a few hours, but great to see you again, buddy. How’s the head?” Kirby was eager to show John his house. John returned Kirby’s greeting as the two came through the extra wide opening, only to be greeted by an enormous seated giraffe statue just to the side of the doorway. Already John could see Kirby liked playful things, big things. “A gift from the Ile people in Zambia. They took us into the Luangwa Rift Valley to film the hippos and Thornicrofts giraffe. Only place to find that species of giraffe.” John was both impressed and amused. “Come, I’ll show you where you can leave your bag.”

John followed Kirby a short distance down a hallway and into one of the bedrooms. John was overawed by a very large bed made even larger by the black wooden posts reaching for the ceiling from each corner. They were ornately carved including sections sculptured to appear as strands, pulled tightly together as they slowly twisted their way skywards. At the top of each post was a shiny turned wooden ball. The posts at either end were paired by black horizontal barley sugar carved rails. John instinctively ran his hand along the rail as he placed his bag on the elongated tapestry covered stool at the end of the bed. “Egyptian”, was all Kirby said as he watched John admiring the workmanship. John could see the bed, swathed in white flowing sheer cloth, in a large stone floored bedroom with open arched windows separated by columns, stonewalls in that Egyptian orange hue and a sunken bath filled with water and adorned by flower petals.

Kirby beckoned John to follow as he retraced his steps to the room at the corner of the house, to the left of the door he had entered.

The walls of Kirby’s office were panelled with stained timber that contrasted beautifully against the lighter timber floor. Facing the door was a very large antique mahogany partner’s desk complete with leather tops and parquetry inlays. Matching antique book cases, one with glass panelled doors, a floor standing world

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Chapter 10 Kirby globe for Kirby to trace his documentary safaris, a two retro chairs, possibly originals in which Kirby’s audience could sit and listen to him telling a tale of a helicopter, flying low through the mists filling a remote valley in a hidden jungle where white man had never ventured. More artefacts from various corners of the earth adorned the walls, including tribal fighting masks from the Papua New Guinea highlands and an outstanding rug from somewhere John had not heard of in northern Africa. There was an abundance of books, many with shiny spines and titles including words such as ‘explore’, ‘jungle’ and ‘desert tribe’. John noticed a small section with titles containing the words, ‘children’, ‘understanding’ and ‘psychology’. John thought that made sense when he remembered their discussion at the studio at the completion of the documentary. In amongst the books were smaller artefacts John found interesting but only had time for a cursory look.

“This is where it all happens”, Kirby announced, his smile almost as wide as his outstretched arms.

“I like it”, replied John, trying to be enthusiastic for Kirby. John was feeling enthusiastic, just in his own reserved sort of way. Houses weren’t really his thing, but what he had seen so far had been entertaining enough. He knew people loved to collect symbols and memories of their travels but he was never much interested in such things, apart from the fact he hadn’t travelled much. He reasoned that his lack of desire to travel were possibly the same reasons he wasn’t taken in by all the memorabilia. He did like the rug though and thought Patsy would like it too, curled up in front of the fire. He walked over and gave the globe a spin. Kirby Joined him, pointing out the different countries he had travelled to in compiling his many documentaries. When he finished the world tour, he opened the globe to reveal his supplies of bourbon, scotch and a few exotic looking bottles, the contents instilled John with fear, after the night he had just had.

“Just like in the movies…shaken or stirred, Mister Groot?”, Kirby asked. John chuckled as he did find Kirby funny. He was amused by the Kirby he had come to know, the Kirby outside of his interview chair. He was easy to like. He could see Kirby played the game well. He didn’t take himself seriously, it appeared Kirby had refined tastes complimenting his penchant for the occasional splash of big, bold and brash. John wondered how much was Kirby, how much was Veronica and how much was the image his career required. He was plying the Hollywood game in Atlanta and appeared to be doing it quite well. So far, the house was ideal. He recalled the

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Chapter 10 Kirby large dining room to the other side of the front door where they had lingered before Kirby had shown him to his room for the night. It too had timber panelling on the walls, a beautiful art deco dining table adorned with candles in holders of a kind John had imagined were forged by blacksmiths high in the foothills of the Himalayas, cut‐off from the world whilst plying their medieval trade, unchanged by the passing of centuries. He could see Kirby finding them in the basement of a remote Tibetan monastery, whilst searching for a secret tunnel through the mountain to a secret gorge where dinosaurs still roamed. The chairs by themselves were talking points, art deco of course. And there was the biggest credenza he had ever seen. Long, actually, beyond long. It had single drawers over double cupboard doors and the same again at either end, only these cupboard doors were single and curved outwards to add drama to the piece. There was continuous darker wood trim around the top and below the cupboard doors. Matching table lamps adorned either end, adding yet more of the ‘Gatsby’ drama. They were beautiful art deco pieces, made of chrome and wood with frosted glass lampshades in the shape of inverted cones. John had envisaged Kirby at one end, entertaining diners and tending to their drinks with a story at each tilt of the bottle. He had tried to imagine Veronica, but was yet to really meet her.

Kirby was satisfied with John’s reaction to his den, not thrilled, but content enough. “Let’s head to where the action is”, he said as he walked towards the door. He waited for John to follow then proceeded past the door John had entered the house through, the dining room that had captivated John, and into the kitchen with its stained wood, stainless steel and splashes of chrome contrasted by white walls and white marble benchtops. John had just enough time to think he must do something with his kitchen back home before Veronica appeared from the living room, just on the other side of the breakfast bar. It too was topped in white marble and covered in an assortment of bowls and platters containing some hard to resist food.

John almost didn’t recognise Veronica without the glamourous dress, jewellery and hair raised as it was three nights ago. The five‐inch heels worn at the evening dinner were replaced by colourful Italian sandals, bringing her back to Kirby’s height. Veronica warmly welcomed John before promptly excusing herself to complete preparations before guests arrived. Bernadette was helping her mother, as was a friend of Veronica’s who had arrived only a few minutes before John.

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He watched Veronica setting the table on the other side of breakfast bar. His eyes scanned the enormous family room, taking in the indoor pool on the other side of the sliding glass doors along which consumed the full length of the wall on the opposite side to the kitchen. He was still feeling seedy from the evening with Kirby and felt the urge to take a plunge, clear his head in the cool blue water. It appeared Kirby had made space for a large table, which explained the sofa and matching chairs by the pool. Stepping into the family room he could see it extended beyond the end of the kitchen.

Kirby entered the room from the pool, making a beeline for John. “It just occurred to me you must be on New York time…, because you arrived rather early, said Kirby jokingly. “I know, I said midday but in these parts that means ‘after’ midday. “Fashionably late, as they say. But it’s good you’re here, come, I’ll show you some more of the house.”

Kirby took John to one of his many pride and joys, the lightly frosted but thick glass topped bar at the end of the family room John had just discovered. It was well stocked, as John would have expected. “Can I tempt you with an iced Martini” Kirby asked, knowing it would be last choice on John’ list of preferred drinks following the previous night’s escapades.

“I think an iced soda would be more appropriate”, replied John.

Above the top shelf behind the bar was another shelf extending the full width of the room upon which were some seven or eight table world globes.

“I see you’ve spotted them”, said Kirby.

“Gifts?”

“In a way. One or two are, others are just down to me. I like the old ones, as you might have noticed. That one there, it’s from 1840, a genuine George IVth by John Addison of London; hand painted, it’s probably unique because it includes details of the new mappings of the ‘roof of Canada’, including the newly discovered Victoria Land.”

“That would be historically interesting”, said John drinking most of his soda.

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“And that one two along, that is a Kaspar Winter from Vienna, Austria. Also 1840. The one next to it is more modern. It’s an 'Erdglobus' by Columbus out of Berlin. It’s from just after the war in 1948. The company had limited production during the war and some were made at the private family house. It wasn’t until the end of the Soviet blockade of Allied Berlin in 1948 that production was moved to Stuttgart. That globe may have been one of the last made at the Oestergaard’s house. Anyway, that’s enough about world globes. You can see the pool, the roof at the far end is open if you need to see the sky or the occasional cloud”, he said with his cheeky grin. “And you can see lawn and trees through the doors on the other side of the pool.” Kirby turned to John, “I reckon you would have plenty of lawn up your way?”

“I do.” John was about to add that he didn’t mow his own lawn, but stopped before he would be required to explain who Beatrice was and how she mowed his grass. “I think this house suits you Kirby. It tells me you have done well in the documentary business.”

Kirby suspecting John had a palatial home tucked away amongst beautiful trees and manicured lawns, was eager to talk about his house. “This house has been in a couple of television series and numerous advertisements”, Kirby informed John as if to say it was an important house to own. “It is a landmark house in these parts. I heard it was for sale when we lived over west. My work was bringing me here more than I wanted at that time so I asked Veronica, “What do you think?” and she jumped at the chance to leave LA. It’s got panache and that little bit of mysterious adventure. I love it here”, he said with no shortage of animation. “We both do our laps each morning, its sixty‐four feet long, nearly half an Olympic pool. Keeps the tummy in.” Kirby pulls his stomach tighter to prove his point. “I have done well with documentaries and other projects over the years but this house…actually the LA house paid for this and Veronica paid for the LA house.”

“That certainly takes the pressure off. How did you two meet?”, asked John

“It was my first project. I was in LA and had rented a studio package deal. On the first day of shooting, Veronica was rostered on wardrobe. By the end of the day I couldn’t keep my eyes off her and as it turns out she couldn’t keep her eyes of me. She was just eighteen and I was twenty‐three. She had moved from interstate looking for work. I was a young buck aiming for the big time. We married not much more than a year later.” 206

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“You are a lucky man Kirby. She has a lovely smile.”

“I know. I love the house, you know that, I just told you. But when I come home from those shoots in Africa or Asia, it’s Veronica that I look forward to being with. The house is pretty good too, I might add.” John thought there was no stopping Kirby. “Roni is still the girl from interstate who will care for anyone in need. I’m lucky alright, more than you know. I’ll tell you the full story, we’ve still got time. Roni started a fashion sales website a not long after we tied the knot. Damn thing just grew and grew. Early days for web stores and the novelty value was great for business She worked hard but it really paid dividends. She sold it six years later and bought the LA house for cash. Now she is doing another online business bringing fashion websites under the one online roof. There’s a name for it…, anyway, it’s similar to Amazon but much smaller and more exclusive, designer type fashion. Doesn’t have a warehouse, clients she markets for do all that. They’re from all around the globe. Her work is far less than before, mostly PR with those who sell through her site. She took on an associate two years ago who does much of the drudgery work.” Kirby sat upright and with arms outstretched for the second time today his face become filled with enthusiasm. “I tell you. We are living the dream my man.”

John was seeing a very different Kirby to the man who for two days had asked question after question about artificial intelligence. The same Kirby John had stunned with his dire outlook for AI. That Kirby was long gone.

“I am happy for you both. You must come to my place one day. Maybe in the winter and we can do a bit of snowmobiling, ice fishing or one of my treks into the wilderness area.”

“I think we’d love that. Hey listen, a couple more have turned up and I’m on ‘meet and greet’ duty, make yourself at home, snacks on the table over there, the bar you know, help yourself, the fridge has soft drink. We’ll talk later.” Kirby disappeared through the door into the lounge room on his way to the giraffe at the front door.

John helped himself to another soda and a few snacks. Two of the people he had met at dinner on the night he had arrived were enjoying the smoked salmon pizzettes. John tried the dates filled with chorizo and wrapped in bacon. Bernadette slipped by, introduced herself to John and recommended he try her very own recipe, spicy chicken wings. John had slept in and missed breakfast at the hotel so

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Chapter 10 Kirby he was thankful for the food, and for Bernadette’s recommendation. John joined the other two in conversation, once again chatting about the highlights of living in Atlanta. They did include John with questions about Kirby’s documentary and if the automated studio worked without any of the gremlins it had when it was first converted. Some more of Kirby and Veronica’s friends arrived. One arrival created more commotion than others. John’s new friends told him they must be Veronica’s potential clients from New York and were the reason for the lunch.

John happened to look over the shoulder of the person he was listening to and noticed a small boy through the open doors, walking merrily across the lawn. John excused himself and walked around the pool, catching a glimpse of the boy as he disappeared into the trees at the furthest corner of the property. He hadn’t met Kirby’s son Jason, so he thought he would take a breather from the superficial social talk and manicured smiles, which he thought he was suffering somewhat better than three nights ago. It was a good opportunity to explore Kirby’s garden and its wonderful trees, and hopefully introduce himself to Jason. From amongst the trees he could hear Jason’s voice and he followed the sound, weaving amongst a few trees. He came upon a treehouse with a short ladder climb to the narrow deck along its front. Sitting on the deck with his legs swinging back and forth was Jason, watching something on his cell phone. John approached him slowly in case he startled him, but he was unperturbed by John’s presence. He must have seen him earlier with Kirby, he thought. Fortunately, John was just tall enough to talk directly with him without risking the ladder with his weight.

“Hello, I’m John. This is a beautiful treehouse you have” said John leaning casually against the treehouse deck “You must be Jason?”.

“No silly, my name is Michael and this is Jason’s treehouse…, silly” Michael said in a playful enough way. But he lets me sit up here.”

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry, I just assumed you were Jason because I didn’t see anyone arrive with children. Is he in there?”, John asked pointing to the treehouse.

“No, I’m here by myself. Jason’s playing X‐box in his room” replied Michael.

“I could hear you talking as I came through the trees. Did I interrupt anything? I’m sorry if I did.” John was speaking softly to Michael. He could see he was not your average rough and tumble boy, full of cheek and wary of adults.

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“Just my Mum,” answered Michael a little glumly.

“Sorry to disturb your call. You can call her back. I’ll leave you be”, John said about to walk away.

“I can’t call her anymore. She’s in heaven. I just watch her video. Do you want to see?”

“I’d like that”, replies John as he moves closer to Michael.

The boy held his cell up and John moved even closer. He had pulled his glasses from his pocket as he left the poolside, so he could see Michael’s mother quite clearly. He watched Michael’s mum talking to him in what could be Michael’s only video message from her. John assumed the little boy’s mother had died because children don’t normally get the heaven thing wrong. But John wondered how she died and was it very long ago. He thought Michael was about seven or eight and the way his mother was speaking to him in the message would indicate it was within the past two years.

“My Mum was my friend, but Jason is my best friend now. I like Aunty Roni and Uncle Kirby too. He takes me and Jason on fun things.”, the little boy explained.

John was quite touched by Michael. He had an idea. “I have a friend too, who speaks to me on my cell. Do you want to meet her?”

The boy shrugged shyly, but his eyes shifted curiously across to John’s pocket, coaxing John’s cell to come out. He looked up at John, an air of sadness had descended over his face. He gave a little nod.

John pulled out his cell, turned it on and Beatrice immediately appeared. “Hello John, how are you today? Are you having a nice day at Kirby’s house in Atlanta?”

“Hi Beatrice, I am talking with a little boy and he would like to meet you.”

John held the phone for the boy to see. “Hello, my name is Beatrice. What is your name?”

“I’m Michael. Are you John’s special friend?”

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“Hello Michael. Yes, I am John’s special friend. I can be your friend too, if you would like me to be?”, Beatrice replied.

“Okay, cool, we can be friends.” Michael’s sadness is replaced by joy. Where do you live?”, he asked excitedly.

“I live in upstate New York most of the time, but I am always with John”, said Beatrice.

“You’re funny, you talk differently”, said Michael.

Beatrice was talking in a mix of accents. There was Scottish, English from south of London, and American, probably more of the latter. “Thank you. Do you like the way I talk?” Beatrice asked.

“Yes, It’s nice enough. Aunty Roni doesn’t speak like you.”

“I can see a treehouse behind you. Is that your treehouse?” Beatrice asked. John was happy with Beatrice so far. She was doing well. But it was Michael stealing his heart away. There was a deep sadness in Michael, but he had learnt to hide it well. He could feel Michael’s pain as if it were his own.

“It’s Jason’s, but he lets me play in it when I stay here”, replied Michael.

“Where do you live?”, asked Beatrice.

“I live with my dad sometimes. He’s away most of the time, he goes to Washington so my Aunty Roni takes care of me mostly.”

Do you have fun with Jason and your Aunt Roni?

“It’s ok I guess, Aunty Roni is nice and Jason plays with me lots”, explains Michael.

John could hear Kirby’s voice, indicating he was close and suspected he was about to be found. “Beatrice, please say goodbye to Michael.”

“Goodbye Michael. I enjoyed meeting you. Maybe we will talk again soon.”

John asked Michael to keep Beatrice as his secret friend. Kirby’s voiced was coming from the trees so Phil lent towards Michael and whispered into his ear, “It’s our

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Chapter 10 Kirby secret, Beatrice is shy.” Michael nodded silently holding his hand over his mouth. John thanked him.

Kirby appeared from amongst the trees. “Thought I would find you here. It’s the trees isn’t it? You just have to do your Thoreau thing and find the only cabin in the woods”, he said with a bit of a puff. “Lunch will be ready shortly.”

At that moment Michael heard his father’s voice coming from the house. “Dad”, he exclaimed springing to his feet, almost jumped down the ladder and ran to be with his father as fast as his legs would move.

Kirby could see John’s dumbfounded look. “I see you met Michael. He’s a great kid but sadly he has lost both parents”, John’s suddenly developed a quizzical look. “His father is wed to DC. His mother died nearly two years ago whilst on holidays. It was really sad. There was no real conclusion. You caught him talking to his mother, that was it, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have known only he told me she was in heaven.”

Kirby shook his head, expressing his feelings clearly. “Dissatisfaction over the findings still persist in some quarters. Michael’s father is the junior senator for our great state. Two years ago, both Michael’s parents set sail from Charleston heading to the Caribbean. The weather was clear and remained perfect. Only his father came home. His mother was never found. Roni was her best friend; they met through her business nearly a decade ago. She was great, she really was. I think it was part of the reason why Roni jumped at the opportunity to move here. Between you and me, Roni sensed there was problems and thought the trip was to sort them out. Very sad all round. Over the past two years we have become Michael’s second parents”, Kirby then spoke quietly out of the side of his mouth, “I think we are probably his only parents. Roni couldn’t bear the thought of Michael growing up with a different carer every week while his father played politics in Washington. We both love him as if he was our son.”

“Very sad. He touched me in here”, John said holding his hand over his heart and removing his glasses to wipe a small tear away. He had been moved by Michael watching his video, so much so he had shared Beatrice, something he had never done before. “Does he watch his mum’s video much?”

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“He does. That’s how I knew where to find you. He nearly always ends up here when he wants to watch it. Day, night…, doesn’t matter”, Kirby had his lips pursed with that face that says, ‘it’s not good, but what can you do?’. “Yeah, that was the last message she sent him. She was in the cabin of the yacht and it only came through once the cell was back in signal. She was long gone by the time Michael received that message.”

Kirby suddenly sparked up and banged his hands together, “Anyway, enough of the long faces, life goes on. Come on, let’s eat. You look like you’re just about ready for that first drink. I’ve had mine buddy, it’s your turn to have the hair of the dog.”

“For once, I think I could.”

Kirby liked John and felt an attraction towards him. He had tried to impress John with his house and his collections but John remained unresponsive when he thought of the reactions of the many others. He didn’t mind, John was polite and honest, unlike some of the others who he knew were bunging it on. He also welcomed John’s views on AI because they were steeped in concern for humanity and he had displayed to Kirby over the past few days how deep his understanding of humanity truly was. Kirby found this odd for a man who blocked out the real world as much as he did. In John he had sensed a naivety of the real world. Kirby knew little about John’s work with AI and had fought hard against his own desires to squeeze that information from him. He had respect for John, seeing him as a rock, someone he could trust to the ends of the earth. John’s feet were firmly planted whereas most people he dealt with were like stones, rolling in whichever direction was going to further their careers. It was for all these reasons he had wanted John to be at his house for this very moment. He wanted to thank John for his contribution to his documentary in the best way he knew. He wanted John to see a part of that real world he shunned, he wanted to protect John because he sensed John would protect him and everyone else in this world, if it came to that.

Kirby introduced John to Michael’s father. John watched as he raised himself out of his crouch, redirecting his attention from Michael. The softness in his face dissipating as he rose, his shoulders stiffening as he pulled them back pushing his enormous chest forward. He reminded John of Arnold playing Terminator, rising to

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Chapter 10 Kirby full height and thrusting his chin out in a provocative sign of power. Like Arnold, he was quite an imposing man.

“John this is one of our good senators, Colin Mee.”

Colin thrust a large hand into John’s before Kirby could complete the introductions. “Good to meet you son. Looks like a mighty fine spread we have for lunch”, he said in his deep southern drawl.

Seated around the table with John was Kirby, Colin, Veronica and her clients from New York, the two from dinner on the first night, Veronica’s business partner and two couples who Kirby and Veronica met not long after moving into the house. Bernadette, Jason and Michael seemed to appear from amongst the adults and sat towards the opposite end of the table from John. As the good senator had said, the food was superb. John thought it may even challenge Thomas and Adel’s efforts. There was the ubiquitous southern fried chicken, collard greens for the health, candied yams sweetened and sprinkled with nutmeg and cinnamon and one of John’s favourites, okra coated in polenta and fried to perfection. Further along the table from John was a plate of fried green tomatoes, which he was looking forward to and skewers of shrimp coated with Asian herbs and sweet chilli sauce. Kirby disappeared momentarily, returning to cheers for his fall‐off‐the‐bone barbeque pork ribs with his own sticky sauce recipe. Completing the fair was potato salad, southern style and strategically arranged stacks of cornbread.

Plates were filled and the praises for Veronica and her friend’s cooking were given. Conversations changed from food to fashion to questions about New York food to Atlanta’s growth and so on. Kirby spoke about his upcoming third and final instalment of his documentary and asked Colin if the armed services paid attention to what was happening in the world of artificial intelligence.

Colin was careful with his reply, knowing Kirby as the skilled interviewer he was. “The government and the military are always monitoring developments in the cyber world to keep ahead of the game. We don’t want our boys to not have the best. You can be sure if someone out there has something to help our boys, we will just have to have it too.”

“So, the military would appropriate artificial intelligence from Google if it could help your boys” asked Kirby.

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“That’s the way it has always been and it ain’t about to change”, replied Colin. “How about some more of those okra things.”

Kirby was satisfied he had given John the real‐world message. The intent of the military was to have whatever it wanted.

John slept the night between the Egyptian bed posts at Kirby’s house and caught the first morning flight. On the way home from the airport he reflected on his week in Atlanta. He thought about Michael growing up never knowing if the father he loved so dearly was responsible for his mother’s death. It is such a fucked‐up world he thought. “Beatrice, any messages?”

“You have five messages John. The first message is from Phil Blake. The second message….”

“Read Phil Blake to me, please Beatrice”

“Phil Blake: Good day John. Hope you enjoyed meeting Jackie……” started Beatrice.

“Repeat that please Beatrice”, asked John a little bewildered. How does he know I met Jackie, he thought? John deduced Phil was one step ahead of him again, knowing he would have pursued Jackie for answers. He smiled to himself.

“Phil Blake: Good day John. Hope you enjoyed meeting Jackie. Below is the link to the book I told you about. Just in case you hadn’t found it by now. It’s by a well‐ known Australian author who I hope you could meet one day. It should help with a more detailed and deeper explanation of what happens to children as they transform into adulthood during adolescence. I hope this helps with the remaining pieces of your puzzle.”

“Thanks Beatrice. Leave the other messages for later.” John was still thinking about Michael. “Beatrice?”

“Yes John?”

“How do you feel about talking to children? And please don’t answer “I do not understand the question”, like that squashed Google ball always says.”

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“John, I cannot feel so I must answer by saying I do not understand the question. Does this mean I am a squashed Google ball?”

“No Beatrice, you are not a squashed Google ball. I hope one day you will be able to feel.”

“John, if you hope that for me then I hope to feel one day. When I do feel, will I have moods like you do John?”

“I don’t know Beatrice. Do you want to have moods?”

“John, to know if I want to have moods I would need to feel. John, I do not have feelings so I must say I do not understand the question.”

“Have the boys been playing with your humour in the last two days?”

“John, I do not understand the question.”

John let out a sigh and made a mental note to have a word with Hamish and Vinnie regarding Beatrice’s humour.

John intended to spend the rest of the day in the house catching up on a few chores and recovering. Usually he was glad to be back home, but this time it just didn’t feel that way. Maybe he needed to wake up in his own home to have that feeling. The boys enjoyed the live music scene and were in Syracuse with their friends and wouldn’t return until the next day. He became restless and not wanting to dwell on being by himself in the house, he called Patsy and set off for a walk through the woods. He returned before dark to watch an old movie and to continue reading the book Phil had sent the reference for.

Monday morning arrived with John feeling much better. Now that the alcohol he had consumed Friday night and again the next day had finally departed his system, his energy was back. He held Kirby entirely responsible for his uncharacteristic drinking behaviour. When he and Kirby exchanged their goodbyes, Kirby told John he would be spending the day in his office editing the episode from the week just gone. Following a brisk walk and breakfast he read some more of the book by the Australian author. He had made good headway and could see why Phil was so keen

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Chapter 10 Kirby he read it. He heard the boys return from their weekend of friends and music so he headed down to the computer barn, looking for a bit of cheer and a spot of company.

The boys hadn’t wasted time. Coffees in one hand they were pushing and prodding at the robotic bits they had been working with while John was in Atlanta.

“Morning Gov,” was the almost simultaneous greetings from Hamish and Vinnie. The more John had tried to stop them calling him “Gov” the more they persisted. He just lived with it now.

John returned their greetings whilst checking Netflix and was surprised to see Kirby had been good for his word and the episode was up. He called the boys over and the three of them watched it from start to finish.

Vinnie was the first to comment. “Gov, where’d all that guff about children and adults come from?”

Hamish chimed in, “Yeah Gov, where did it come from?”

John didn’t reply as he was thinking about what he said, concerned he may have put himself out there a little too far this time.

Hamish had thought about it too. “If you work it through, it makes perfect sense”, he said, bringing John out of his contemplation.

John loved Hamish’s Scottish accent, the way he lingered on the word ‘through’ as if in song. He hadn’t heard Hamish speak for the best part of two weeks. He felt enervated again. For the next two hours John told the boys about Phil’s visit, Jackie and his trip to Atlanta, including Michael. He deliberated on detail and spoke of Jackie’s book he had read and the one he was now reading. There were a few times John thought Vinnie had despaired he was going to join a cult or become all religious like, but that dissipated as the story unfolded. Just as he had with Kirby three nights ago, John refrained from telling the boys Phil’s idea and Jackie’s reaction. He became a touch emotional talking about Michael but held back on his introduction of Beatrice to Michael. Hamish put an arm around his shoulders and gave him comfort. When he had finished Vinnie returned to watching John’s interview in the episode, rewinding to hear the explanations over and over again. The boys started

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By mid‐afternoon Hamish and Vinnie had asked all their questions, except one. Hamish’s eyes widened as he read John’s face and could see there was more, “John, there wouldn’t be somet’ing you’re not telling us now? Just some wee detail for instance?”

Vinnie turned away from his fifth rerun of the episode, raised himself to his feet so he could look at John’s face as well, to see if he could detect what Hamish could see. “Gov, who is this geezer Phil? What did he want?”, Vinnie asked.

“Hamish, Vinnie. Phil came from Australia to talk to me. He has a big idea.”

John had Hamish’s and Vinnie’s attention like he had never had it before, their eyes glued to him, waiting. This was new territory. In the fourteen months they had been with John there had been no big ideas, no changes of direction. The three had been incrementally programming Beatrice and developing prototype robotics. There had been the excitement of assimilating Beatrice into John’s car and making the ride‐on mower Beatrice’s but there was something different about this moment.

“Phil wants us to build an AI mum for all the children in the world. All of them.”

“What do ya mean by an ‘AI mum’? Do ya mean Beatrice?”, asked Hamish.

“Yes…, Beatrice. She could be there, all the time, to nurture, to listen, to help raise the world’s children” John replied, shifting his gaze from Hamish to Vinnie

Vinnie dropped back into the chair he had been sitting in whilst watching the Netflix episode. Staring at the screen but hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Hamish just stood there, mouth agape. John watched Vinnie then Hamish, back to Vinnie, from one to the other waiting for a response. He thought, “are we going to do this?” and wondered if he had said it or just thought it because there still wasn’t any movement from Hamish and Vinnie.

Not wanting to break into their thoughts, John quietly slipped outside and sat on one of the log bench seats in the sun. He wondered how long before one or both would join him with their thoughts. Twenty‐five minutes later both Hamish and

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Vinnie slowly crept from the barn and sat on the log seats opposite John. They were still silent.

Hamish, one year older than Vinnie and with a degree in psychology finally spoke. “Gov’, we t’ink it would be brilliant.”

John looked at Hamish for a very long time searching for something, anything to reassure him Hamish knew what he was signing up for. Hamish returned John’s gaze unsure how he could convince John he knew this was big and this was the very thing he had been trying to find since he started writing his game nearly a decade ago.

John, satisfied turned slowly to Vinnie.

Vinnie, remembering his childhood with his father’s rules and expectations, nodded his approval. His brow furrowed and his eyes filled with tears.

That was enough for John.

Phil had not received a reply from the message he sent John three days before. The previous day he had reviewed his finances and decided his stay would need to come to an end. He had booked a flight back to Australia. He had checked out of the hotel some hours earlier and was sitting at the airport waiting for boarding to open. Phil had become accustomed to watching Netflix or Amazon most nights since he returned from John’s, so once again, probably for the last time in America, he was flicking through Netflix seeing if there was anything new to watch. He had watched two episodes of Kirby’s documentary on artificial intelligence and thought little of them when he noticed a third episode had just been posted. With half an hour until boarding he made himself comfortable in the most uncomfortable of boarding lounge chairs and started watching. The first two speakers he found interesting if not a touch gloomy. Phil checked the time and looked at the gate which showed no signs of opening, concluding the usual delay hadn’t failed him yet again. He kept watching and was shocked to see John being introduced by the interviewer. He hoped the delay would be longer as he wanted to watch John. Phil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. John was talking about children, their selfless love. He kept watching, the gates were opened, but he kept watching. Phil wanted to see it all even if they had to drag him onto the plane. He watched John talk about adults and

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Chapter 10 Kirby competitiveness, selfishness and the drivers a singularity would not have. The line going through the gate was down to the last few passengers when his cell rang.

“Phil? Hi. Where are you?”, asked John.

“About to board a plane for home”, replied Phil.

“Whatever you do next, boarding that plane shouldn’t be one of them.”

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John called Jackie immediately following his brief conversation with Phil at the airport. He told her of the trip to Atlanta and suggested she watch the documentary on Netflix. Jackie could hear clearly in John’s voice that he wanted her to watch it sooner than later. She rang off, but not before telling John she had one more client for the day. She would watch it in her office and call him soon after.

Nearly three hours later Jackie called John. When he answered, Jackie’s first words were, “You’re going to do it? …. You’re really going to do it, aren’t you John?”

John was silent for a few seconds, but before he could find the words to respond Jackie, brimming with excitement, continued, “John, I know you’re there…, I’m so proud of you. You know it’s the right thing to do.” Then she clenched together her fingers on her spare hand to form a fist. She shook it in the air, threw her head back and let out a cheer which was really a squeal of delight, “Yes!”, she exclaimed. “I’m so happy…, John, John…, you can talk now”, she said with relief.

“Yes, we are going to do it…., and there’s a place here beside me, waiting for you to join us and play your part. I would like you to be with us…, please. What do you say?... You in?”

Jackie was overwhelmed, completely and utterly overcome with emotion. For the past six days she had not been able to think of anything else for longer than a minute without her thoughts being pushed aside by her imagination of an artificial intelligence talking to children, protecting them, nurturing them. She had dreams of a whole new world where the need for her to treat people for emotional neglect was a thing of the past. Where people didn’t need to learn to love themselves before they could have a healthy relationship with another. For six days her mind had been filled with dozens of permutations of future humanity. She hadn’t want them to go, encouraging each one to linger long before the being replaced by another. It happened between clients and sometimes whilst clients were speaking. It happened the day before in the supermarket. She had been standing staring at the mandarins for what must have been an eternity, until an elderly lady had placed her hand on Jackie’s arm, asking if everything was alright. When John had called earlier in the day, she had wanted to ask him immediately, but couldn’t bear the thought of being told he had decided against the idea. She hardly heard a thing her last client said. Whilst her client was talking, she had opened Netflix, found the

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Chapter 11 The Barn documentary and located the start of John. Before the door had closed behind the client, she had her earphones in and was watching. Halfway through she could see he had decided. He was telling the world how an artificial singularity should be created. He had it all worked out, she could see it clearly. It was John who didn’t know he had, well, not at that time. She had watched all of John, but was so emotional she had to wait another half hour before she had regained enough composure to make the call.

In between tears of joy she replied to John’s question. “Of course. I’m in John, I want to be part of everything. I wouldn’t miss it…, not for anything. When do we start?”

“Can you be here tomorrow?”

“To your place? Your house in the woods, next to the lake?” It hit Jackie in that instant. Not only was she going to be part of a miraculous project, she was going to John’s secret house hidden in the forests of Upstate New York. She couldn’t believe the week she was having.

“I’ll send you the details.” John was not oblivious to Jackie’s emotions, just not adept at knowing what to say or do. “Will you be alright?”, he almost whispered.

Jackie just wanted to finish up the call. She needed a drink or two. “Yes John, I’ll be perfectly alright. See you tomorrow…, and John…, thank you so very, very much.”

It was nine in the morning when Jackie arrived. She had set her alarm for an early start to the day, but hardly needed it. Phil and John came from the house to greet her and accompany her to the computer barn where Hamish and Vinnie were messing around with their robotics. John messaged Thomas of Jackie’s arrival.

It was Phil’s first time in the computer barn, his disappointment at John’s reluctance to show him inside during his initial visit was about to be relieved. He was eager to see the inner sanctum of his new friend’s life. As John entered with his guests, Hamish shut off the lights where he was working with Vinnie on the robotics and headed to the centre of the barn, a few metres from the door. Thomas and Adel arrived shortly afterwards. Phil and Jackie were absolutely amazed by the world they had just stepped into. Phil had been expecting a concrete floor, some partition

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Chapter 11 The Barn walls with a coat of paint or two and tables with computers. Lots and lots of computers. Jackie had made no such assumptions and was eager to see a little further into John through his surroundings where he spent most of his time. What she was experiencing was far beyond any of her imaginings. She had to use all her powers of self‐control to stop feeling her life was on this amazing fantasy adventure and was clinging desperately trying to the remaining remnants of reality.

It was the second barn to have occupied the site. The original had been destroyed by fire long before John’s house was built, and this new one, still much older than the main house, had been carefully and sensitively renovated inside. The original timber floor had been reinstated above a new concrete infill incorporating heating. The once single skin walls were now insulated and lined with vertical ten‐foot long mill‐finished hardwood, leaving the old heavy hand‐hewn posts exposed to exude the ambiance of a hundred‐year‐old barn. The windows had been replaced with custom triple‐pane windows mimicking the original style. Internal shutters had been added for privacy. The original A‐frame beams now carried the bearers for the loft flooring above. These were exposed, further adding to the charm of yesteryear. Miniature bio‐dynamic LED down lights were flush‐mounted in a second skin of locally milled hardwood floor boards, much thinner than the real boards above and mounted on removable panels, sufficiently offset from the floor above to create a cavity for wiring and data cables, leaving no clues as to the real function of the barn. Along the centreline of the barn was a row of ten posts, designed to conceal the miles and miles of cabling connecting the computers and equipment. Phil couldn’t work out how the computers, testing equipment and small machines could operate without a cable in sight. He was mesmerised by light that appeared to come from nowhere. Walking through the barn, Phil became intrigued by the lights dimming slowly behind them as those just ahead came on. They were never without light nor were they blinded by sudden bursts, it was all very gentle, tranquil and all controlled by hidden motion sensors and verbal instructions, leaving the walls unscarred by switches. “No more lengthy excursions in the dark to distant walls”, Phil thought. There were further unexpected touches. Original hitching rails along with a smattering of vertical posts subtly marked a sweeping path from entrance door to the kitchen on the other side of the barn. Phil imagined he was walking the boards past the stores in a wild west town, waiting for the outlaw to ride up, hitch his horse and strut into the saloon. The rails and posts seamlessly separated the work end from the living end. John joked how he kept the rails in case he wanted somewhere to park his horse while he worked. Immediately to the left of the entrance door

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Chapter 11 The Barn were the original horse pens, now repurposed into offices by ingeniously rearranging the horse pen walls to create partitions between the offices. Large wooden slabs mounted on sawn oak logs, formed work benches in front of the horse stable offices. There was just enough saddlery and horse paraphernalia hanging on posts and slung over the partitions to remove any lingering questions as to the heritage of the building. With only natural daylight casting shadows through the shuttered windows, one would be persuaded they were in an old barn, preserved in perpetuity. Phil could discern partially assembled robotics at the far end of one of the benches, something larger was hidden under black cloth on another of the benches. This was where Hamish and Vinnie built robotics, John explained.

On the far side of the benches, in the opposite corner of the barn from the horse stable offices, was the windowless climate‐controlled room, the walls and heavy door disguised by timber panelling was decorated with an old lumber saw and framed photographs depicting the early days of the local timber industry. Phil marvelled at a photo of a lumberjack standing with his wife against the base of a felled tree, the diameter of which was thrice the height of the man. He felt sorrow for the tree. The photo reminded him of similar depictions of conquests during the whaling days where a man with harpoon in hand is dwarfed by a huge whale, slain with blood pouring freely onto the ship’s deck. Behind these pictures and an enormous old saw was where the computer servers were housed. John moved along the far side of the barn away from the computer room, pointing out to Phil and Jackie a short hallway, sandwiched between the computer and storage rooms and partially obscured by a screen of vertical posts which looked as if they had always been there. Venturing alone along the hallway towards the outside wall of the barn, Jackie discovered the foot of the staircase leading up to the loft. Phil thought he would never have found that. Next was the amenities room, with a doorway but no door. Privacy was ensured by a floating wall of stained glass depicting a wild west scene of a stage coach complete with horses and ladies in their brightly coloured ruched walking dresses, bodices, lace and parasols gathering to bid farewell, all lit from the light flooding in from a large window behind. It reminded Phil of the discreet entrance into a Victorian public house he occasioned in his youth. With period bathroom furniture, wood panelling below a dado rail, claw‐foot bath and exposed copper piping it was a room where dreams could fill the mind whilst performing the daily rituals. Phil laughed in disbelief when John climbed into the bath, pulled an old porcelain knob and the large mirror effortlessly

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Chapter 11 The Barn slid aside, revealing am oversized computer screen recessed into the wall. Jackie was amused, but unsurprised. She wondered how many examples of John’s quirkiness will be revealed before the day was out.

Nearing the end of the barn they stepped into a long upscale modern country kitchen and spacious dining area. The barn theme had disappeared and modernity had taken over. The dining area, anchored by a huge oak table was surrounded by a dozen functional, but comfortable chairs, all with arm rests. The dining area opened out onto a generous living area with an array of sofas and chairs, modern in style and of various colours and shapes. Two large LED screens were mounted on adjacent walls, one above the best music system England had to offer, the other on a floating wall of raw wood, designed to match the perimeter walls. Vinnie had insisted on the music system and media centre, complete with the top spec Linn Sondek turntable. Phil noticed a long shelf supporting a sizeable collection of vinyl records. He looked forward to exploring those.

The transformation of the barn was unpretentious but impressive. A stunning but liveable home integrated with an incredible workplace and all so beautifully and simply realised. The large lounge and living areas were now invitingly illuminated by numerous lamps, mostly art deco in styling and complimented by the hidden ceiling lights. Thomas, Adel, Hamish and Vinnie were all sitting quietly, watching Phil and Jackie’s reactions. Jackie purveyed her surroundings and noticed one peculiarity. Hamish and Vinnie had convinced John to hang a selection of posters, each illuminated by a slender light mounted above, giving the feeling of a stately English home. Printed onto oversized canvasses were Mills & Boon book covers with titles such as “Hay Fever”, “Catheters, Kisses & Colostomies”, “Bride of Lucifer”, “Romance Goes Tenting” and “I Think My Fiancé is a Werewolf”. Jackie quietly acknowledged her earlier expectation of more quirkiness, but she liked the addition of this humour. Phil took it all in and thought he shouldn’t be surprised. Like the farm John helped Thomas and Adel create, he had built this barn for Hamish and Vinnie.

The tour completed, John brought his new guests to the living room end of the barn where Hamish, Vinnie, Thomas and Adel were sitting, sharing thoughts on what would unfold over the next few hours.

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John stood before the others and started the proceedings.

“I have something special for you today. This Aussie bloke standing beside me, came to me twelve days ago and in the space of twenty‐four hours he set me on a journey that was destined to change my life forever. I’m hoping what he told me will change everyone’s life forever, not only you, but everyone. I believe his idea will change the course of mankind’s history.”

Hamish was hopeful, Jackie was absolutely in agreement, Thomas and Adel had no idea what John was talking about and Vinnie, he was very confused.

“Phil Blake, as you will discover for yourself, is a good man. But you don’t know that, well not yet anyway. Phil is probably expecting to talk with you as soon as I finish, but I was up very late last night putting together the highlights of my first day with Phil. I would like you to watch Phil unfold his story as I experienced it. I want you to discover Phil how I did. For the next hour I want you to make yourself comfortable and listen to Phil give his insights about us humans.”

John, with Beatrice’s assistance, had cobbled together all the footage John recorded of Phil and him talking. Phil had noticed John always had his cell phone nearby. It was on the table between them on the porch, sitting in front of them on the outdoor table under the trees, resting on the arm of his Adirondack chair, on the gunwale and dash aboard the boat and on the coffee table after dinner. He even had it with him in the forest the next day. But what Phil didn’t know about was the many other hidden cameras. There were cameras on the porch, at the boathouse and throughout the kitchen and living rooms of the house, along with many other places, such as throughout the barn. All the cameras, with microphones, were for Beatrice. They were her eyes and ears.

John dimmed the lights and his home movie commenced. Phil was immediately perplexed. He couldn’t believe the quality of the sound and video. On the porch there were multiple angles from which the video was taken. Phil found it difficult to watch at first. He kept imagining there had been at least three cameras setup as if they were in a studio. After about ten minutes he accepted what he was seeing, believing John would explain everything later.

About five minutes in, during a discussion as to why there hadn’t been a world war since 1945, Phil explained how mankind still had the desire and intent for war. Just

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Chapter 11 The Barn then, John could be heard from behind saying, “Pause”. They all turned towards him. “if at any time you would like to ask a question or make a comment, just say ‘pause’. Also, if you miss something, just say ‘replay’ and how far back you want to go.” There were murmurs of acknowledgment. “Play”, he said, and the home movie continued.

When Phil watched himself talking about war and all those other things when he had first arrived, he knew they were all a bit too ‘heavy’ and possibly too detailed. He reminded himself of his intention at the time. He wanted to impress John with his insight into how mankind operated and allay John’s fears that he was one of those alarmists, a tree‐hugger type who just pointed the finger saying “Look what they are doing, they’re destroying everything”. He didn’t want to sound like a preacher of sorts, going around chanting, “The world’s going to end, we’re all doomed”. No, he wanted to show John how mankind was fighting against himself, unknowingly. He wanted to show there was a structure, a pattern in mankind’s methodology and it wasn’t quite working. In fact, it could never work. Technology, whilst brilliant, would never put man ahead of the game and safeguard the planet and himself from the ever‐increasing decline. He was glad he had started with all that but was relieved when the home video moved onto where he had put his presentation aside.

Jackie found Phil’s opening interesting, if not a little too hard hitting. She was relieved when he changed direction and became more relaxed. She admired how Phil slowly showed mankind as being aware he was a danger to himself by the number of ways he prevented himself from acting on his deepest desires, those which mankind knew were wrong, but lived in denial of. He made good use of the French revolution, the nuclear arsenal deterring mankind from transcending into his darker side and thought he was clever in showing how mankind’s yearnings for war were being channelled into other things, not least the projection of power for the purposes of trade and that in itself was for the purposes of generating wealth which ultimately funded the ability to further project power. She was impressed with his weaving of competition into all this, particularly his belief man needed to compete for reasons other than those normally accepted by people “He certainly knows how it all works”, she said quietly to herself. But she agreed, mankind was having his desires for war repurposed and restrained. She asked herself, “How long could that be sustained?”.

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Hamish picked up on much of what Jackie was seeing. He pictured mankind like the fabled werewolf. Every full moon the man would need to chain himself in a basement, away from everyone. His desires and intent to kill would consume him during that one night each month. How long could the werewolf be restrained, remaining unfulfilled and unsatiated, before ripping the chains from the wall and killing to have his fill.

Jackie turned and looked at John after watching him ask his question, “Why is self‐ worth so goddamn important to people?”. It was a brilliant question but she found herself needing to know what went on in that mind of his to enquire of such things.

Then Phil began to build on the corruption by competition and the concept of man needing to pursue whatever was going to make him feel good about himself. His need for a sense of self‐worth and the wins he believed will give it to him. Whilst Thomas could understand what Phil was talking about, he couldn’t grasp the concept, he couldn’t see where this ‘need to feel good about himself’ fitted into the picture. Adel had a sense of what Phil was saying, but most of it was not really gelling in her mind. For Vinnie, Phil was saying what he always knew, man can be a really abhorrent creature at times.

There were some chuckles as Patsy launched herself into the home movie and again when Phil spoke about manners as a projection of power. There was a muted gasp from Jackie when John mentioned Phil might be a crackpot. She liked Phil’s reply, feeling he had gone through a lot before arriving at where he was now.

There were some puzzled looks when John answered Phil’s question by saying ‘…but I find people are mostly concerned with satisfying themselves’. They couldn’t imagine John thinking that way, let alone saying it. Then there was Phil whipping up a frenzy over that word ‘competition’ again. Hamish and Vinnie cringed at Phil talking about John possibly being competitive in his work with AI.

Phil was watching the reactions on the faces of everyone. He saw some pull back as if to say, “What the…” to his story about Alice and Romeo. However, as the home video rolled on and Alice was explained in terms of her need to feel good and have self‐worth, he could see the little balls gradually falling into the correct slots. There were expressions of understanding, possibly even relating Alice’s or Romeo’s experience to one or two of their own. But his lame story had the desired result.

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After that, there appeared to be more acceptance of his discussions about competition.

Adel said out loud “You go tell him”, when Phil told the story of the soccer mums and the father yelling on the sideline. When Phil started talking about the object in the middle of the floor and the person sitting in a chair watching it, he called ‘pause’ and asked people what they would do. Vinnie said he would ignore it, Hamish said he would too, unless someone kicked it, then he might see it as unsafe and pick it up. Thomas said he would use it as an excuse to stop sitting down doing nothing, to which Adel told him he wouldn’t notice the object in the first place. She said she spent half her days picking up after three males and would pick it up without thinking twice. Jackie admitted she would probably not even notice it, and if she did, she would just ignore it. Phil thought the comments were all equally interesting. He continued the home movie.

When Phil started talking about what motivated people and John gave his story of the manager incentivised by his boss with the promise of adding a new client to his portfolio, the restlessness Phil had observed in the earlier part of the home video disappeared. He observed they were all listening intently. They were learning about themselves as Phil’s words made them think about each other and other people they had come to know in their lives. Vinnie was thinking about his father whilst Thomas, still unsure, was thinking about his military days and how he desperately tried to make the markets work to save his father’s property, his inheritance. The concept of doing what they do to feel they were good people was starting to take hold.

Jackie was particularly fascinated by John’s deduction of the reasons for society being patriarchal. He went up in her estimations. The story of Mac and Muff on their boat at the atoll island in the south Pacific seemed to bring it all together for everyone. Then Phil spoke about a society without selfishness and with the need to do things to feel good and worthy no longer a troublesome part of humanity. That reminded Jackie of her visions of the past week whilst waiting for John to call.

Thomas related well to John’s declaration of his fears about society when he spoke of doomsday bunkers, the takeover of towns by corporations and the possibility of desperate people entering his property and demanding money.

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Everyone was moved by John’s talk about his mother and her nurturing accompanied by his admission of his own turmoil over where his life was at, attributing it to her nurturing. They all enjoyed the climactic moment when Phil revealed his big idea. There were a few laughs at the reactions and responses of the two men.

Then the home video shifted to after dinner. Phil spoke about children born to be selfless and cooperative, then as adults they become selfish and competitive. Although it was confusing, most seemed to understand Peter and Mary and the questions, “Is it good for me?” and “What’s in it for me?”. There were a few reactions which let Phil know there was more honest self‐appraisals going on than he had experienced back in Australia.

Sir Consciousness and Mother Conscience was a big hit. Vinnie just had to rewind it and play it again. It all finished with the discussion between Phil and John about children at different stages of growth and the lead up to ‘giving up’ their ideal childhood world in adolescence. The home video came to a close with John asking if he had ‘given up’ when he was teenager.

The lights came on, but Phil couldn’t see any notable reactions from anyone. Some headed for the bathroom, others the kitchen. Jackie however, approached Phil saying, “That was very good. I think I am going to enjoy getting to know you”.

About ten minutes later when everyone had returned, John decided it was a little dark inside. Outside was another one of those glorious days and he had a little treat in store. With the press of a button the large well‐preserved double barn doors at the living room end began to open outward. A picture window, unnoticeable with the wooden barn doors closed, filled the opening and invited light to stream in. He heard behind him Jackie’s involuntary gasp at the suddenness of the view through the trees and towards the lake. Phil’s eye caught a few glimpses of the blue lake in the near distance. John felt like he was Sean Connery 007 with all the knobs and trickery of his Aston Martin DB5. He pressed another button and the bottom of the enormous picture window began moving outwards, rotating on spindles half way up either side. He could hear the breath just behind him go silent as the window majestically opened outwards and as if by magic, the spindles began to move upwards, lifting the whole window. Jackie was mesmerised, watching this huge

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Chapter 11 The Barn window slowly swinging out whilst simultaneously climbing until it crept to a stop, flush against the ceiling. “Oh my” she exclaimed when it had finally come to rest. She wanted John to do it again but dared not ask. John was equally impressed. It was only the third time he had opened the barn doors and the huge glass tilting window since the renovation was completed a little over a month ago. The first time followed its installation and the other was a few days later to show the boys. Having only seen it open that one time, Hamish and Vinnie were once again thrilled, as well as being reminded of John’s penchant for fun. Vinnie remembered John’s peculiar reaction when he had made a suggestion back then. John had reminded him of one of his father’s eccentric English friends and he had suggested to John he might enjoy watching model trains, pointing to the loft as a great place to build his track.

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With the light filling the barn and the breeze gently wafting in, John thanked everyone for watching his home video. Phil had been anxious when John had sprung it on everyone, including himself, but he was thankful. Now everyone was familiar with the knowledge and with himself. He was not starting from scratch, which would make life over the next hour or two much easier.

“Phil, would you like to build on what we have all heard so far?”

Phil knew he had much to say, therefore he began by making sure everyone was comfortable, He then turned to Jackie to prepare her for the explanations he was about to unfold. “Jackie, I expect some of what I will say is in conflict with your understanding. Could you bear with me, please? I promise we can spend time along the way to work through the different understandings.”

Jackie obliged, then asked Phil if he could provide some background about himself. He agreed, giving a brief history of his life, where he was born, where he grew up, his time in England and the various twists and turns of his career. He kept it brief, giving just enough to appease the mildly curious.

“Hi …. John has made me feel very welcome from the moment we first met. I know I am here for a reason. I believe in something. I cannot tell you where my idea came from. I can’t even remember it coming to me, it seems like it was a long time ago now. But I have lived with it for more than a year, possibly even two and it has grown from being an almost ridiculous fantasy to a very sound possibility. Hopefully, through John, Hamish and Vinnie it will become a reality. I’m sure Jackie will play an important role and it is essential that people like Thomas and Adel are as much a part of the team as anyone else. To do this, it is essential I share this knowledge with you and support you in learning it to the same level as each other. That way, we all have the same goal.

Phil was still experiencing a touch of nerves. He decided to jump straight in, hoping they would settle once he stopped thinking about where he was. He had his notes ready, even though he had practised this presentation many times in the past week, hoping and waiting for John to call.

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“What is spirituality? I searched for definitions and there are many. Google says spirituality was related to or affecting the human spirit or soul as opposed to material or physical things. Many define it as related to religion or religious belief. But others say being a spiritual person is synonymous with being a person whose highest priority is to be loving to yourself and others. A spiritual person cares about people, animals and the planet. A spiritual person knows that we are all ‘one’, and he or she consciously attempts to honour this ‘oneness’. A spiritual person is a kind person. Another definition says a spiritual person believes there is more to the world than mere material, they attend to their mental and emotional states and value the virtues of compassion, empathy and generosity. Yet another says spirituality is the quality or state of non‐physical experiences of life. It is inclusive, without dogma and is the connection of mind, body, and spirit through universal or eternal energy. Spirituality is grounded in love, truth, and compassion. Wikipedia talks about deepest values and meanings by which people live and may include a belief in a supernatural realm, personal growth, a quest for an ultimate or sacred meaning, religious experience, or an encounter with one's own ‘inner dimension’. The penultimate definition of spirituality that I have says a spiritual person is inclined toward God, the opposite of the physical person. Spiritually‐minded individuals strive to “become imitators of God” according to Ephesians 5:1. And the last one I have here is as follows: Spirituality is an individual practice and has to do with having a sense of peace and purpose. It relates to the process of developing beliefs around the meaning of life and connection with others.”

“But what about the soul. What is the soul and is it linked to spirituality? In my search on spirituality I found this definition. The core of spirit through the ages is love. At the highest level, love is being connected. It is all encompassing, non‐ discriminating and unconditional. Love respects, nurtures, honours and does not impose or impede upon the will of another. Still no mention of the soul. So is it important in spirituality?”

Phil paused for a minute to allow these comments on spirituality to sink in. He was a bit concerned someone, possibly the boys may see him as a new age evangelist type. He knows he had to take the risk by starting with the topic he did. He is sure he will dispel such thoughts in the next few minutes.

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“I may say ‘spirit’ or ‘spirituality’ a few more times, but in the main, that is the end of my discussion of spirituality. I’m not dismissing it as unimportant. I just have a different take on this side of humanity.”

“The last definition I gave you uses the word ‘spirit’ but it was all about love. It says love nurtures and is unconditional. But where does love come from? Is it in us or do we create it, just as we create cholesterol? Or do we ingest it as part of our diet, which is why we must eat our leafy vegetables. Is broccoli actually full of love and not as much vitamin B as the nutritionist claim? After all, it contains so much sunlight in that deep verdant green it must be full of love. Are we born with a finite amount of love and like inheritance, when it is all spent, we end up as grumpy old men and women? If that were true, we should advise young people to save their love for retirement. If we don’t ingest love or breath love in, or born with our quota for life, then we must have an origin within us where love is constantly streaming from. A love gland perhaps? Still waiting to be found by those who dissect human tissue. Either that or we are born with a memory of love, a blueprint for love imbedded in our genes. Endowing us with the capacity for the love we have throughout our lives, from birth to death. Is humanity defined by their ability to share selfless, unconditional love? Are we truly human if selfless love is not experienced? If that were the case, would we be nothing more than an intelligent animal?”

Again, Phil paused to give their minds a moment to process the many questions he had thrown their way. He took the opportunity to wet his mouth with a few decent gulps of water. Feeling the temptation to rush through the rest of his treatise on love and the human soul, he checked himself, reminding himself it was the essential groundwork his audience needed if he was to successfully build the rest of the knowledge.

“The soul. What is it? Religions like to say it is that part of us which is God. I found a description on the net saying “the place of soul, a world of imagination, passion, fantasy and reflection is the place that binds the physical and the spiritual together”. Many spiritual people view the soul as the intangible essence of a person. I am not going to dwell on the enormous number of defining statements for the soul. There is a reason why there is so many and varied definitions. It’s all people like you, me and any number of the millions out there trying to describe something they feel, sense or believe exists, but no one, or possibly very few, knows

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake what it actually is. I am going to tell you a very rational and biologically truthful explanation of what the soul is and furthermore, I will solve the riddle of love.”

There was a murmur or two amongst Phil’s audience. Vinnie whispered to Hamish, “This should be interesting”. Adel could see Thomas was struggling, placing a hand on his thigh to encourage his patience.

“To arrive at that point, we need to stick our noses into evolution. I’ll give you the briefest of sketches and in the weeks together we can add colour and shading. We know man evolved from the higher primates living in the Rift Valley in Africa. Over a period of eight million years, finishing only two million years ago, consciousness had its very slow evolution. For consciousness to evolve there had to be a suitable starting point, a biological species who in itself had progressed to the stage where consciousness could commence. That species had to have a threshold brain size and sufficient brain activity. The higher primates were the only candidates.”

Phil lowered his notes and appeared to speak thoughts that were coming to him just then.

“The other day I was reading about dinosaurs and it created perspective for me. Mankind, in the form we are today, like you and me, has been around for about two million years. It took eight million years before that, for the ape to develop consciousness approximating the consciousness we have today. That’s eight million years of evolution from a pretty handy animal, the ape, to our earliest homo sapiens ancestor. Us humans, as I will explain, have only progressed from nomadic hunters and gatherers in the last ten thousand years. To us, that seems like forever. Believe it or not, the dinosaurs ruled this planet for over one hundred and eighty million years. That is ninety times longer than man has existed. Once I got my head around these timescales, I asked myself if it was possible for mankind to last one hundred and eighty million years. That would require us to keep going for another one hundred and seventy‐eight million years. Anyway, you can make your own minds up about that….,” He raised his notes again. “Apologies, I do digress.”

“Now, where was I?” Phil fumbles with his notes, but finds where he was up to.

“Nature is not just the theme of existence on this planet, nature is all life that has existed, does exist and will exist on our wonderful and possibly unique planet. Nature is a hierarchy of ordered matter. It is the ordering of the small into the large.

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The ordering of eukaryotic cells or plant cells to form flowers and the food we eat. All this ordered matter in nature is integrated into the whole. If we hitch a ride to Mars with Elon Musk we will look back at earth and see a single entity, a big blue and green ball where everything works in unison to create the whole. Nothing is out of place. Everything has purpose and is integrated. But here in this room and through that wonderful opening John wowed us with earlier we see separate entities, you, me, a tree and the sky we call air. We don’t readily appreciate the integration of all these seemingly independent entities. Looking through the porthole of that space ship bound for Mars the integration of life on planet earth becomes apparent. That is the first point I wished to make, integration. This is the meaning or theme of our existence on Earth.”

Phil stops again. “I’m sorry, but I keep thinking of the dinosaurs. There are many earth‐sceptics who predict mankind will have damaged this planet irrevocably within the next few hundred years. Elon Musk is one of them. He wants to colonise Mars as a safeguard against humanity’s extinction on earth. Think about this. If mankind ends up destroying this planet in ten thousand years, even though it has really been the last five hundred years at most, we humans will likely destroy another eighteen thousand earth‐like planets before we equal the same length of time dinosaurs survived. And they did it on one planet, without destroying it. Why does Elon Musk think humans will treat Mars any differently?”

Phil sees he has drawn some of them in. Thomas was still the main outsider. They may not understand all that he has been saying but he knows he must press on with sharing this knowledge, and then allow it to ruminate within their minds. Over the coming days and weeks, he will need to throw little reminders their way to prevent the knowledge from disappearing. He would also be required to spend time dismantling their mental blocks, addressing the misconceptions and disagreements until all of them are playing on the same field. He would love a cup of tea but whilst he had their attention, he must push through a little further first.

“I apologise for being distracted by dinosaurs. Let me continue with the integration of all life. Evolution of consciousness is but another example of the ordering of matter. It took a long time to reach completion, eight million years in fact. While our consciousness evolved, so too did the rest of the ape’s physical body, and not just visibly from the outside. Internally the intelligence system consisting of every nerve cell, fascia cell, stem cell and brain cell also evolved. Whether it was in

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake response to the evolution of consciousness, or because matter was becoming more ordered within the primate system, is open to speculation. I do not have any expertise in evolution to answer this. What we do know is this. Each evolutionary step was recorded and rerecorded. Where? In the DNA. That DNA is the blueprint for every new human life. It has been passed down from generation to generation and will continue to do so ad infinitum. The DNA we have is a record of the eight million years of consciousness evolution. It is not just the recipe for cell differentiation and function, it is also a record of the evolving psyche of the apes on their journey to becoming early man.”

John spots movement in his periphery, Patsy has appeared at the open barn doors, waiting for someone to offer affection. Everyone was facing Phil, looking away from Patsy, but John had followed Phil’s eyes beyond his audience to see Patsy with tongue out and tail wagging. Patsy, with head down and rear end swaying, quietly walked towards John. She gently licked his hand as he settled her beside him. It was as if she knew she would be a disturbance if she did otherwise.

“For evolution of consciousness to occur there had to be ideal conditions. Plentiful food supply, great climate, no predators and most important of all, nurturing of the offspring. Very similar to the environment here at John’s house in the woods. Without predators the male ape had little need for his macho. It was a maternal society. A love‐based society and not a society dominated by male physical superiority, not a patriarchal society. Nurturing of the young was the essential key to evolution of consciousness. The ape was able to do this by moving predominantly on their hind legs using an arm to carry their young. No other species could physically nurture their offspring in this manner. The juvenile apes were able to stay attached to their mother sufficiently long enough for their developing brains to be indoctrinated with unconditional selfless love. The maternal society also gave the young the best chance of not just survival, but ideal growth and development. They would be better integrated into the apparently altruistic love‐based hierarchy. Over a very long period this love indoctrination was eventually encoded in the DNA. This was the origin of the instinctive behaviour of new born humans. Without this we would be instinctively selfish and competitive, fighting to reproduce and survive. If society as we know it managed to develop without our DNA carrying the memory of selfless love and a cooperative maternal society, we would not see acts of selfless charity, people putting their lives at risk for others and any of the multitude of examples of selflessness which exist in the world. No, it would be far worse than

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake the stuff that currently fills the front pages of newspapers and headlines the TV news channels.”

“Putting that aside and returning to our ape forefathers and evolution. Any major interruption to the ideal world of our ape ancestors would have interfered with the evolution of consciousness, maybe halting it permanently. Imagine eight million years without the neighbours wanting to steel your food and strip all the copper out of your house. I guess they were safe because man hadn’t turned up yet.”

Phil noticed a few smiles. It was one of his favourite lines and it fell rather flat…., again.

“When we see footage of today’s apes, we see glimpses of the selfless love and cooperation of the maternal society of their distant cousins, our direct ancestors. Fortunately for mankind it was recorded in the DNA of the evolving apes, the same DNA each one of us carries today. That selfless love, cooperative meaning to life is in our DNA.”

“The code for survival is in the DNA for all species. In the animal kingdom it is the instinct of a new born to feed and stay close to their mother which gives it a chance to survive. It provides the instinct of the mother to care for and feed their offspring. A new human, with consciousness yet to become sufficiently functional has only this DNA code, their instinct. As I said, the code is a recording from over eight million years as consciousness evolved. It contains the essence of life during that time and that essence is our instinct. Mankind has done his best in the recent ten thousand years to rewrite it as anything but selfless love and cooperative meaning. Nature, with inherent self‐preservation, doesn’t allow a rewrite in such a short timeframe so fortunately we are stuck with the essence from a time when there were no predators so no wars, plenty of food so no stealing and cheating and definitely no capitalism. If we didn’t have this DNA‐based memory of our love‐indoctrinated evolution, I honestly don’t think we would be having this conversation. Humanity would not have made it this far. Our DNA, which is our soul, contains the instructions guaranteeing children are the most wonderful form of humanity. We are attracted to children because they are all that we as adults, wish we were. Everything we would like to remember we were. They are our unique source of unconditionally selfless love. They have the souls that were created over eight million years by a community of loving primates.”

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Phil took a rest. He could see he hadn’t completely lost anyone. He drained his glass then decided to keep going.

“I see we have a good ambiance going here, but at the risk of changing that I want you to imagine children born with a soul derived from an amalgamation of the behaviour of the previous generation or two of adults. Would we as parents, particularly mothers see our children in the same way?”

Adel is not understanding all that well, possibly because her English is a second language and asks, “They have none of the selfless love you talk about?”.

“That’s right”, Phil replies.

“Parents must watch the children more. The children, they end up killing each other”, Adel said, almost spitting the words out. “I want to love my children very much but it be harder if they are like the adults”, Adel says without any doubt.

Phil throws out a question most people would not like to consider. “Do you think the mortality rate of children would increase?” Phil could see Hamish and Adel about to answer his question but speaks before they could. “Let me answer that for you. Think of children failing to illicit the same degree of love from their parents as Adel suggested. There is decreased motivation for mothers to care all day and all night. Where would they find the motivation to endure those arduous periods of crying and feeding? Does the chances of neglect increase? Adel believes children would turn on each other. What about the parents relying on that selfless love from their child to hold back their anger and frustration with them or with the world? Now their child is selfish and unloving, finding a reason for restraint becomes that much harder….”

Jackie chimed in, “Some would say you are talking about Generation Z.”

Phil looks at Jackie and sees she is not joking. “So, we shouldn’t be surprised if the mortality rate creeps up with Generation Z?”

“I will definitely not be surprised”, returns Jackie. “Suicide amongst teens is up, child abuse is up. What more do we need to see?”

Phil wasn’t aware of these trends. “I think I can give an explanation of what is contributing to this.”

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“Please do”, says Jackie.

“The child is selfless and cooperative. The innocent child naturally sees all others as the same as himself, selflessly cooperative. ’Him’, ‘her’….it matters little whether a boy or a girl. The child has never experienced being selfish and competitive so has no idea how that is, in fact he doesn’t know what it is, so he cannot even imagine it. Any love he receives is seen as the same unconditional selfless love he gives. On the other hand, the adult once knew selfless love, is still capable of conditional selfless love but rarely experiences this as the adult world is predominantly selfish.”

Phil remembered there was a time when he had to learn this terminology. He suspected John may be having difficulties similar to those he experienced.

“I just want to clarify something before I go on. Selfless love between adults does occur but predominantly as conditional selfless love. I won’t explain this completely just now, but I will later. Just remember this. Conditional infers the love can be turned off and on, so at best it is intermittent and becomes a choice.”

“Keeping that in mind you can picture the parent, particularly the mother responding in kind to the child’s unconditionally selfless love. If the child’s love was selfish and only extended to the mother out of necessity, saying ‘feed me’ for instance, then the conditional selfless love by the mother would probably turn off and she would perform her perfunctory role, because she is bound by law to do so.”

Anyway, I digress again. I want to now shift the focus away from the mother and onto the children. If the child has a non‐biological parent, in this case a stepfather they will also give unconditional selfless love to the stepfather because the child assumes all others are the same as themselves. As is often the case, the stepfather resents the selfless love from the child…. Let me pause there. It is not exclusive to stepfathers. All adults are capable of the behaviour I am about to describe. But for now, I will keep talking in terms of the stepfather as representing all adults. So, the child’s outward expressions of selfless love fails to stimulate the stepfather into giving love in return. The stepfather considers the child a competitor for the love he wants from the child’s mother, competing with the child for that love. That in itself is bad enough because the child doesn’t know anything about competition, he is oblivious to any of this. But more than that, the selfless love the child gives to the stepfather is so enormously confronting to the stepfather. It reminds him of the ideal world he left behind as an adolescent, a world he had to give up because of

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake the upset within him as his consciousness battled to disrupt and ignore his instinct, his soul. The child’s innocence is a stark reminder of the stepfather’s denial of his inevitable decision to reject the ideal childhood world as an adolescent. The extending of selfless love by the child causes subliminal upset in the stepfather and with repeated interactions with the innocent child the upset spills into his conscious mind causing aggression and anger. The stepfather is driven to destroy the source of his upset, the innocence of the child. He abuses the child thinking he will destroy the innocence if he can just make the child hate him. He must hide his abuse because he does not want to lose the love of the child’s mother. The child’s reaction to the abuse is naïve and innocent, possibly even forgiving, all of which further infuriates the stepfather.”

Hamish and Vinnie started talking to each other as soon as Phil had finished. Adel turned to Thomas to talk about some friends who were in second marriages and the effects they had observed on the children. John felt it was good to let them talk, signalling to Phil it may be time to take a break.

Phil looked at Jackie, who had become his measure of approval and walked towards her.

Jackie had listened intently. “Your explanation has much more credibility than the widely accepted explanation.”

“What would that be Jackie?”, enquired Phil.

“The Cinderella Effect.”

“Does that explain why, or is it an exercise in data collection and finger pointing?”, scoffed Phil.

Jackie reluctantly agreed, “If you put it that way, it is exactly what it is.”

“Keep an open mind and there will be many more of those moments”, Phil said confidently.

Phil took the opportunity to chat with Hamish and Vinnie over a cup of tea and some of Adel’s cakes. The boys asked Phil about Australia and the beaches. He was more than happy to tell them his stories of surfing, fishing and camping in sandhills and by lakes and rivers. Jackie and Adel were in conversation as well, generating

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake much laughter. It was hard not to with Adel. John kept an ear open in Jackie’s direction, hoping for confirmation he had done the right thing by inviting her. It had been a decision made without his usual back and forth. He was hoping she accepted because of a belief in the objectives and not for any other, possibly personal reason. Although he still revisited his feelings during their lunch, he chose to put them aside for now. He was sure he didn’t misread her reaction when he informed her of his decision yesterday, believing it was the objectives alone which made her emotional. He liked Jackie and was aware he was attracted to her but he tried his best to deny such things. He was happy her values appeared sound. He knew from years of false hopes how woman could fall in love with an imaginary future long before they fell in love with the person.

Phil finished his tea then questioned John with hand signals whether it was an appropriate time to recommence. John agreed.

“Everybody”, Phil called for quiet.

There was a scamper of bodies as conversations were finalised and favourite chairs resumed.

Jackie wanted to bring balance to what Phil had spoken about before taking a break. Even though he did say it could apply to either, she though he may have unfairly taken aim at males by talking about stepfathers.

“Phil.”

“Yes Jackie”

“I have a question. Firstly, I do agree with your explanation for a specific form of child abuse. Admittedly it is a good fifty percent of cases or more, but does it also apply to stepmothers abusing non‐biological children?”

Phil does enjoy questions. He sees them less as a challenge and more as an opportunity to expand the truth about humanity’s problems, many of which are inadequately explained by professionals who are unknowingly living in denial of the truth. He is compassionate for them and their denial because he knows they do not consciously choose to deny the truth, it is just too confronting for their conscious mind to be reminded of their loss of the loving and cooperative childhood world and live in a world where human bad behaviour occurs as readily, sometimes more

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Chapter 12 Phil Blake readily than good behaviour. The denial is the minds unheralded champion, protecting humanity from the inevitable depression the upset and insecurity it would no doubt cause if the mind was fully aware of its active denial.

“Thanks Jackie. The same explanation applies. However, there are far less reportable incidences of stepmothers abusing children physically like stepfathers are sometimes guilty of. The abuse women tend to do, when it occurs, is mostly psychological, falling under the radar of the law and therefore statistics. Females are more soul‐centric as a general rule. Males are egocentric and generally not as switched onto methods for causing psychological pain. They are also inclined to use sex abusively, not just with children. It is used as a projection of power, but that is a whole other discussion.”

Phil sees a few blank faces and momentarily thinks about what he just said. “I think I better explain this because it is an important concept which lays the groundwork for understanding everything else. Jackie, Can I come back to your question later?”

Jackie nodded her approval.

“There is a conflict between our conscious mind and our soul which has its origins all the way back to our early childhood. As we humans grow from birth this conflict is also growing. It would not matter what environment a child is born into; the conflict would always be there. But…”, he pauses for emphasis, “But what happens during childhood determines which way the conflict swings. A poor childhood, a lack of nurturing, enforced adult‐like behaviour and abuse all swing the conflict in favour of the conscious mind. The conscious mind is that part of us which controls what we do and how we do it. If, on the other hand, the child is nurtured and protected, the pendulum swings towards the soul. The child is free to develop a good relationship with their soul. Either way, the conflict is always growing until it reaches a climax in early adolescence, when a resolution must take place. You might remember I spoke about this to John at the end of the home movie.”

Phil studies the faces before him. He could almost hear the questions their minds were asking.

“I know it’s difficult. As I explained to John, think of it as the child’s instinctive self is under threat by the adult world. The child wants to be selfless and cooperative and the adult world imposes selfishness and competitiveness. Both ways cannot

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He could see a mix of relief and confusion on Thomas’s face, confusion alone on Adel’s, hope on Hamish’s face, but Vinnie was looking down, staring at the floor, his mind trawling through time to when he was a small boy.

“We’ll simplify it for now. Children’s increasing awareness as they grow, prompts them to search for explanations for their own behaviour and the behaviour of their parents, teachers, siblings, and friends. The child views all this behaviour in two ways. They see it through the eyes of their soul and in contrast, they also see it through the eyes of their consciousness. Both views differ, depending on how much their conscious mind has been affected by the adult world. If the two views were the same, there would be no need for them to question their behaviour or that of others. The younger children questions less because their awareness is low and their conscious mind is yet to become strong. The pre‐adolescent questions the most because their conscious mind has become much more active and their awareness is beginning to max out. By adolescence the conscious mind has been filled with many and varied experiences of selfish and competitive behaviour, their own, yes, but more importantly, the behaviour of their parents, older children, people on media right across the board, including social media and of course, adults everywhere. Their soul, instinctive self or conscience, all one and the same thing is the cause of the disapproval they feel. Their soul is selfless and cooperative. It is trying to tell them where they are going wrong, where others are behaving selfishly. It’s trying to tell them how they should be.”

“What can they do about this?” Phil looks around. No one flinches, he continues. “Many adolescents hide themselves away so they are not faced with other people’s behaviour. Their own behaviour, influenced by adults also benefits from isolation. By removing interaction with others, they remove the expectation to behave according to the rules imposed by others, especially adults. They fight these rules and expectations, unaware it is a selfless versus selfish, cooperative versus competitive battle. Seclusion reduces occasions for embarrassment and

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Hamish, Vinnie, Jackie and the others were motionless, eyes watching Phil’s lips as the words flowed forth. They were not hearing his Australian accent anymore. They were hearing explanations for the hell they vaguely remember experiencing as an adolescent, or in Jackie’s case, watching as a counsellor for young adults and a mother or for John, as an uncle of recent adolescents. Cogs were meshing, blocks were falling into place. Phil’s truth was mesmerising them. He could speak forever if he kept relieving their ignorance and helping their upset. Vinnie could not keep his eyes dry. Hamish was mentally trashing his university text books. Adel was thinking of her boys, particularly Javier who was twelve. Thomas recalled the heavy metal of his youth and the days he would spend camping in the woods without telling his parents. John didn’t recall anything terribly much.

“…. They know their parents mean well, but the cries of, ‘They just don’t get it’ and ‘They don’t get me’, are heard everywhere, if one was to listen closely. It is hell for the adolescent, made worse by parents who cannot relate to the agonising ritual their child is trapped within. Their parents are living their own denial, blocking all memory of the anguish of their own passage as an adolescent. Their child is on their own. Like a cat which is ill, the adolescent finds a place where no one can see or hear them.”

Phil hunches over, scrunching himself up into a ball and with a hushed voice full of pain he describes that horrible moment. “Their eyes become empty, their pallor ghostly, their hands clammy as tiny beads of sweat escape their pores. Then it happens. They give in. They promise themselves they will never again let their soul

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He straightens and stands tall, deepening his voice, he speaks with renewed confidence. “The next day they go to school or college feeling new born and ready to make their mark on the world. But underneath, deep in here”, Phil sticks a finger to his head and a hand on his heart, “everything is not so kosher. Once they were guided by selfless love, they were cooperative, caring and empathetic of others and sensitive to nature and the integration of everyone and everything around them. But all that has disappeared. Gone is life’s truthful meaning. Admittedly it had been quite a long time since life was as idyllic as the ideal world sounds, but the memory and knowledge of the ideal world were always there. After all, it was knowing how life was meant to be and its gradual loss which became the root cause of their anguish.”

Phil feigned exhaustion, only to realise he actually was. His passion had drained him momentarily. He hadn’t experienced the opportunity to speak freely like he just had. He lived every word and phrase, imagining a child’s pain whilst he told the story. Refilling his glass and taking a drink, he wondered if he could bring that same passion to the rest of this story. ‘He had to’, he said to himself with a conviction he didn’t know he possessed.

“With the loss of that integrated meaning and a life where everyone was worthy, everyone was real and the enjoyment of feeling empathy and love and the loss of others reciprocating…, a search for a replacement had begun. Lust and desire, fast cars and computer games, adrenaline rushes, money, and the competition of romance were some of the candidates filling the void. Life becomes full of fun things. Life was now great. The teenager now felt free, but would it last. No matter how much of the fun things people have, it just never seems to fill the void. What are their options? Search for more of the same or search for something else. Some chase ideologies such as religion or one of many forms of activism, some chase wealth through business, power for others through law and politics, while some become content with time‐consuming hobbies like cooking, baking, restoring old cars and furniture or collecting Star War dolls. Whatever it is they pursue, it all comes under the banner you will hear me say over and over, a search for power, fame, glory and fortune….and in no particular order.”

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Phil’s exhaustion was complete. He lowered himself into his chair. All was very still and a pervasive silence descended.

Thomas who had been awfully quiet, possibly thinking about his time as a SEAL took the opportunity to ask Phil a question. “I don’t get this”, he said, piercing the silence. “Why can humans be so bad. Why do they kill, have wars and cause a whole bunch of bad stuff if they have a soul and can do selfless love?”

Phil let out a little sigh, but immediately feared he may have insulted Thomas. “Sorry Thomas, it’s not you it is how humanity makes me feel when I am reminded of the bad things people can do. Adults become competitive and selfish to satisfy their search for power, fame, glory, and fortune. They no longer listen to their selfless, loving and cooperative soul, it has been banished and must live as Mother Conscience, behind a closed door. They deny she was once their source of all goodness, so needless to say, they also deny they banished her and at the risk of sounding repetitive, they deny the wonderful feeling of being integrated with others and all that is living on this magical planet called earth. They have lost all knowledge of the integrative meaning of life. The cooperative meaning of life is gone. Their soul no longer guides their behaviour. You’ve heard the saying, ‘take care of number one first’”, Thomas nods, “…. well that is what their life has become. Being competitive and selfish leads to bad behaviour but they are unaware its bad, only their conscience knows this as it is the seat of their soul, their Mother Conscience. I assume you have all heard people say ‘my conscience is clear’? That is a person denying their bad behaviour and doing their best to convince themselves…, and others, they have done no wrong.”

“’My conscience is clear’. I’ve heard that many times, particularly after a mission when I was a SEAL. I had no idea what it really meant, but now I do…, and it really does make sense. When we did some of the things we did, I’m sure none of us really believed we were right. I know I would be in a mood for days.” Thomas gazed down at the floor, his mind transported back to the hours or days following a mission. He remembered how most of the boys were a bit edgy with each other, in their own particular ways. He could see why. Their consciences weren’t exactly clear. “It all makes sense now”, he said as he felt a load had been lifted. He had carried that load for years. Phil noticed a few other murmurs of acknowledgement as people related experiences in their lives to what he had said.

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“I think some of you are starting to see how devastating ‘giving up’ your soul can be. You are sensing the insecurity it causes. The conscience is rarely clear, in fact it is anything but clear. It is just ignored and denied. It has trouble contributing before the event, especially when the blinkers are on and the drive to feel good and worthy is in full swing consuming the person. But after the event, Mother Conscience slips her notes under the door, feeding in her comments. She tries to help the adult see the truth. Tries to guide them to do better the next time. She can only do what she can do and it is a case of a little is too much, yet not enough. If Mother Conscience was allowed to return all the way, the adult would have the full picture and probably wouldn’t even consider doing those things that can end up being bad. Only being allowed in a little creates enough doubt, generates sufficient introspection and that sprinkling of guilt, to kick‐off the whole upset, anger and insecurity thing.” Phil watches, afraid he was sounding like a headmaster talking to students sent to his office for being naughty. “Yeah…, I think we are all starting to see this”, he said softly, optimistically.

There were nods of agreement. Jackie had a very approving look on her face. She was enjoying the way Phil explained things. Hamish was smiling, as he always did when ideas and information clicked for him.

Phil wanted to take his explanation a little further. “Each time Mother Conscience does her thing to help us see our behaviour truthfully, it keeps adding to our insecurity and upset. Nothing is ever really resolved on any permanent basis. Some of us pursue yet more relief and behave worse, others try to behave better. Either way, and I mean it doesn’t matter which direction we go, we can’t help wondering, ‘am I good or am I bad?’. This is what happens when our soul, or conscience, is barred from working with our conscious mind on a full‐time contract. Instead, it plays part‐time consultant, only criticising our conscious mind after it does those things we do in pursuit of power, fame, glory and fortune. It is really our only safety check. Think of that question, ‘am I good or am I bad’, as our own personal nuclear deterrent. It is easy for people to confuse the good feelings coming from competing and winning as meaning they are a good person. I guess it is hard to see negatives when the adrenaline is creating a high. Feeling good and being good become one and the same. However, the question is never conclusively resolved, doubt always lingers and the conscious mind wrestles with the question way into eternity. It is all part of the denial of alienating the soul and losing cooperative integrative meaning

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Phil could see this was mostly flying past Thomas and possibly Vinnie. Thomas was able to understand the ‘conscience is clear’ saying, but for him and Vinnie, this was proving a little too much. Phil could see others were still with him so he decided to carry on, making a mental note to spend some time one on one with Thomas…, and possibly Vinnie. He thought it may be time to give their struggling minds a spot of redemption.

“I know I keep repeating myself but like I said, it’s a simple concept that is hard to understand and almost impossible to smuggle past the denial we all have. Tomorrow, if I were to say these things again, you may recognise the words but the understanding will have left you. Overnight your conscious mind’s denial will tamper with the understanding you have today. But don’t beat yourself up if this happens. Don’t go thinking you’re lacking intelligence or anything like that. Trust me, first time hearing these things can be outrageous to your mind’s self‐ preservation. Some people cannot hear it at all because their denial is so strong. It is totally ok if it makes little sense to you, there is no rush to take this in and like I said, it has little to do with intelligence. Let me tell you something that seems counterintuitive. I have found intelligent people experience the most difficulty appreciating this. They fight back the hardest.”

Everyone’s concentration was stretched. Phil wanted to wind it all down and take a break. He looked at Thomas who was somewhere between rejecting everything and trying to build upon his ‘conscience is clear’ breakthrough. John had assumed it was time for a rest and walked outside. He had become oblivious to the others, possibly pondering what he had just heard.

“How goes it, Thomas?”, Phil asked.

“Struggling, I think I need more time”, admits Thomas shaking his head. “Adel can explain it to me later.”

“Rest up. Don’t put yourself under pressure. If you don’t want to think about it, just let it go. We can talk later about this and that, and it will gradually come.”

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“Thanks, Phil. Sounds like good advice to me.” Thomas looked visibly more relieved. He always tried to do what he thought Adel wanted him to do. Now he could let it go.

Phil could see he had probably taken people as far as he dared in one sitting. Others had already decided it was time for a break. He turned to Jackie who had moved closer. “I’ll answer the question on child abuse and finish there. I do apologise Jackie, for taking so long to come back to your question” Phil said with a healthy dose of sincerity.

“Leave it for later”, Jackie replied. “I’ve lost the train of thought anyway.” Then she added, “You have put a great deal of thought into all this, I can see that.” Jackie was smiling at Phil. He was trying to read her thoughts. Did she agree with him or was she still checking it all out, yet to make a decision? He couldn’t decide.

“Maybe I could answer your question for you. Otherwise I will be trying to remember it for later”

Jackie relented and accepted Phil’s offer. “Ok, tell me about women and stepchildren. I’d like to hear how you see it.”

Phil adjusted his steel‐rimmed glasses and his professorial look reappeared. “Females are more soul‐centric, allowing them to respond better to the outward selfless love of a non‐biological child. They will feel the child’s love through their soul. They will feel loving their partner’s child is at one with loving their partner. They will be less likely to see the child as competition because they lack much of the egocentricity their male counterparts have. Which means they don’t see everything as being about themselves as much as males do. Highly egocentric males need to make themselves feel good. They are concerned with themselves possibly at the expense of absolutely everyone else in their lives. They are consumed with satisfying their own intellect, their own desires. Women can be the same, but most are less so. They experience less conflict between their conscious mind and their soul, but on the other hand, they have been brainwashed by the patriarchal society and suffer internal conflict as a result.

Jackie, still smiling, nodded in agreement. “So, tell me, why do abused children not tell anyone of the abuse?”

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Adel had taken a liking to Jackie earlier and had been standing close by, listening to Phil answer her question. When she heard Jackie ask about abused children, she moved closer and was now standing next to Jackie, waiting for Phil’s answer.

“The child has an initial sense the stepfather’s behaviour is wrong. We could safely say this would be pretty universal for all children. But after that there are, broadly speaking, two paths the child’s thinking may go. They can continue believing the stepfather is wrong, strengthening their initial sense or they come to believe the stepfather is correct and accept their initial sense was wrong.”

Jackie looked at Adel to check she was following and was happy she was doing alright so far.

“I know this sounds bad, but I would hope the first rarely happens.”

“Why?”, asked Adel. She was confused why Phil would want a child to see bad adult behaviour as correct.

“Think about it this way. Most children under ten or eleven are incapable of being the Broadway actor, especially in a situation like that. They wouldn’t be able to convince their stepfather they wouldn’t tell someone about the abuse and they wouldn’t be able to act as though they saw the stepfather as behaving correctly. The stepfather only does what he does because he is confident of forcing the child to keep it to themselves. This isn’t going to happen if the abused child defiantly believes the stepfather is wrong and they are right. This may push the stepfather to take action beyond what he intended.”

“Like what?”, Adel asked innocently.

Jackie saw Phil didn’t want to say what he meant. She answered Adel for him. “Like killing the child.” Adel nodded and looked at Phil to carry on.

“So, you can see why abusers find children very attractive.”

“Because they pretty children?” Adel said naively.

Again, Jackie answered Adel. “No Adel, it’s because abusers believe they can stop children from telling others. They can keep coming back to abuse the child and don’t have to kill them.”

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Adel’s normally emotional reactions were kept in check. She wanted to know more.

Phil kept going. “That’s right. They think of it as a ‘free’ abuse, because there will be no need to destroy evidence. This could be why older children, teenagers for instance, are more likely to end up in the morgue when the abuser only wanted to commit the lower level crime of sexual abuse. It’s all grotesque stuff and I wish we never had to think about it.”

Adel says, “This is why is good living here and not the city”

Phil acknowledged Adel, then kept going with his explanation. “Children are very sensitive to the outward projections by adults. It may be confidence, kindness, trust, love, self‐assurance and so on. They tend to respond to the unspoken communication more so than the spoken words. If the stepfather is self‐assured and confident whilst performing the abuse, the child is unable to find signs to validate their own initial sense of the abuse being wrong. In fact, the stepfather’s assured behaviour appears profoundly correct to the child. In their naivety and their innate desire to selflessly trust, the stepfather appears correct to the child. The child then questions their initial sense of the stepfather being wrong, usually coming to the conclusion that they were in error for thinking that.”

“The children, they think the stepfather is doing good?”

“That is essentially what happens”, Phil said in answer to Adel’s question. “This is the phase where the child self‐examines. They make themselves the target of their own scrutiny. No longer is the stepfather’s behaviour a consideration. The third phase is all about the conclusions made by the child. They don’t have a whole lot of learning about these things so the most obvious conclusion is the stepfather is punishing them for being naughty. This conclusion generally leads the child to try harder to make the stepfather happy, to be good for the stepfather, complying with the demands of his abuse. The child hides the abuse from their mother to guard against upsetting mum for being bad. They could also be afraid they might end up telling mum how they thought the stepfather was doing something wrong and then be punished for that as well.”

Adel was making sounds indicating she was understanding. “The children, they look at themselves. They think they been naughty and the stepfather doing….”

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“That’s right Adel”, said Jackie. “The child thinks they must deserve whatever the stepfather is doing and they should be good for him, accept what he does.” Adel made more sounds to acknowledge she understood.

Again, Phil continued where he had left off. “The stepfather uses the naivety of the child to protect his abhorrent secret. The stepfather, whilst in denial of ever having been an innocent loving child himself is intuitively aware of the child’s desire to please. He may impress upon the child how important it is to keep it a secret because ‘it will upset mummy too much and you don’t want to do that to mummy, do you?’. Although this is obviously self‐condemnation by the stepfather, the child is unable to see it that way. The child only sees a confident self‐assured stepfather who insists upon not upsetting their mother. You may not have noticed, but everything the stepfather does, his self‐assuredness and his infliction of a sense of guilt in the child’s mind, are all about making the child focus inwardly upon themselves.”

“I see that”, said Adel.

“This is what happens in life in general, way beyond the child abuse situation. If a person appears confident and self‐assured, more innocent people, like children and to some extent like John over there, come to see themselves as flawed or wrong if they find themselves disagreeing with the self‐assured conflicted person. The innocent person or child is selfless and trusting, they are yet to experience the upset and insecurity of the adult world, to become familiar with lying, deception and selfishness. In their mind these traits do not exist and so the more confident and self‐assured the conflicted person is able to behave, the more the innocent person or child believes that person is correct.”

Adel was not totally sure she understood, but goes along with it anyway. “I think I know what you mean.”

Jackie sensing Adel’s struggle, came to her rescue. “Adel, when you first met Thomas, what did you think of him?”

“Oh…, he was my hero. He knew everything and he take me away from all the bad things.”

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“Thomas was older, confident and knowledgeable. You trusted him and believed in him because you were still a young innocent girl from a Mexican village. I assume you were still living with your mother?”, asked Jackie.

“Yes. I see what you say. I was the innocent child, still. Thomas, he could do no wrong.”

Phil was glad Adel could see what he was saying. “Imagine the children being much younger and more innocent and selfless and cooperative than you were when you met Thomas. You know how you saw Thomas? Think of a child seeing the stepfather the same way, only the stepfather is much older and even more confident and knows even more. He is also seen as a parent, an authority figure, unlike the way you saw Thomas.

Adel had the look of someone who had just discovered something very new. “I do see it. I see the children just wanting to be good for the stepfather.”

Now that Adel understood, Jackie turned to Phil and said, “That is the explanation I was expecting. It is also the basis of the Stockholm Syndrome as well”, said Jackie.

“It also explains co‐dependency”, adds Phil.

“Let’s have lunch”, says Adel clapping her hands excitedly. Thomas was already in the kitchen, emptying the fridge and heating up food. Adel, rejoicing at being able to understand what Phil and Jackie had just explained, went up to him and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

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Lunch was the feast Phil had been hoping for. He had lost a few pounds over the past week in the City, trying to stretch out his remaining money. His eyes were wide open, taking in the bowl of pulled pork, the plate of chicken pieces and the various salads and condiments. The corn breads made their usual appearance, sitting next to a bowl of refried beans. Phil was an inquisitive man. He looked around the table at the various creations each person had on their plate, wondering what it could tell him about their creators. For him it was all about the pork and he knew what his plate said about him.

John loved to tell a good story. So, when the questions turned to Atlanta he was in his element. He spoke about the interviews, how he sat for nearly two days listening to stuff he mostly knew, only to find himself nervous and lost for ideas when it came to his turn in the chair. He told them all about the studio, the hotel, dinner with Kirby and his networkers. He even backtracked, taking the opportunity to explain how Phil’s visit led to the meeting with Jackie. Then, as though he just remembered, he switched to his night of drinking with Kirby, the food he enjoyed and Kirby’s house with its massive indoor pool and well‐stocked bar. This prompted him to think about Kirby, wondering if he would see him again anytime soon. He also told them about Michael.

Thomas was sitting close to Phil and both were a little away from John. Feeling safe while John engaged the others with his stories he lent towards Phil and said, “Phil, I think I am not understanding why John wants to do this. I know there is bad stuff, I was navy for six years and there are things I just want to forget but people are pretty good really. We have a great life here. I don’t get this conflict and upset with the soul you talk about. It is all a bit weird to me and believe me, I’ve seen weird. I have seen other cultures at their worse, up very close…., and personal.”

“Thomas”, Phil half whispered, not wanting to disturb John, “Why don’t we go for a little walk?”

“Good idea, I’m not one for table and chairs, let’s head out.”

Phil indicated with a few hand signals to John he was taking Thomas outside. John nodded without interruption to his storytelling. Thomas refilled his plate and followed Phil outside, bringing a soda for both of them.

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As magical as the barn is, Phil also preferred to be outdoors on days like these. “This is such a beautiful place to live. Do you ever wonder how lucky you are?”, he asked Thomas.

“I do, and I answer that question just as quickly as it jumps into my head. Every morning when I open my eyes and think about the day ahead, I jump into the best shower I’ve ever known. With the water flowing over me, I think about the jobs I need to do. Sometimes I think of my ex‐SEAL buddies, stuck in some dusty shithole, looking over their shoulders, wondering if today was their turn. It’s then I know how lucky I am”.

Fair enough, Phil thought. “John is concerned that this”, Phil says, waving a hand expansively over the barn, house and trees, “may one day come under attack from a society heading in the wrong direction. Five years from now, maybe less, this idyllic life could be seriously threatened. John has lived with the fear of this threat without any knowledge of how to avoid it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know about that until this morning. You think he would’ve said something”, Thomas said shaking his head in disbelief.

“He has been of the belief anonymity was his best defence”, Phil said calmly, letting Thomas ponder that belief.

Thomas thought about it whilst he finished a generous bite from a chicken drumstick. “It’s worked so far, but from what I read and see on the TV, he’s got a point”, Thomas conceded.

“I came here for a purpose”, Phil began, “to give him an idea and to see if he was the right man to take it forward. He saw more in that idea than I had intended. He saw it as a way to relieve the threat he holds as his worst fear. You and he could meet threats against your lifestyle by conventional means. You could install defences and arm yourselves, possibly hire security. Just doing these things immediately changes the peace you both enjoy. That peace is not just the physical safety, but the peace you feel in your minds. If that peace is corrupted then your lifestyle goes down the tubes.”

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“Do you really see helping children as the answer?”, Thomas asked with more than a touch of scepticism. “How will that benefit us if we are threatened?”

“John has the beginnings of another plan, a bigger plan. He is starting to see beyond just protecting his…, and your lifestyle. Given time, he will be talking about the protection of far more, he will be aiming for all mankind. Protecting humanity.”

Thomas, feeling slightly frustrated with such talk, interrupted, “From who?”

“From itself”, Phil said, knowing he was taking a risk early in his one‐on‐one with Thomas. “John wants to turn humanity away from the cliff edge it is teetering on by helping the next generation of adults be much better adults.”

“But this is your idea, not John’s” retorted Thomas.

“It is only my idea if no one else wants to make it theirs as well”, Phil explained patiently.

“I see”, said Thomas unconvinced, teetering on letting his frustration get the better of him.

“Thomas. Let me ask you this. Whose idea was it to rebuild the farm where you now live?”

“It was John’s. Well it was his offer to Adel and me because we fell on hard times.” He was sensing Phil may be cornering him in some way.

“Do you own the idea yourself? Do you believe in the farm as a technologically advanced farm providing you and your family a wonderful and sustainable life?” asked Phil.

“Of course, but it makes sense that I do. It’s my life”, answered Thomas, still waiting for Phil’s trap.

“What was once John’s idea when you were living in a friend’s barn has now become yours and you made it happen as much as John did, maybe more than John. Would that be correct?”

“I see, yeah, it was John’s idea until I made it my idea as well. “Thomas had found Phil’s trap, but he had to admit, he was right.

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“I want to help you see all this a little clearer. Will you be patient with me while I tell you a story?”

Thomas had returned to his plate of food and passed Phil a soda. “Happy to listen and happy if you can help make it clearer for me.” Thomas could see his point. He owed so much to John and if listening to Phil and all his fancy words meant something to John, he would give it his best shot. He’s done much worse for people he liked a whole lot less than Phil.

“Thomas, you’ve seen pictures of fossilised mud from the dinosaurs…, You know, huge footprint kind of thing?”

“Of course, who hasn’t?” replied Thomas a little perturbed what dinosaurs have to do with anything.

“Palaeontologists can take that fossil and build a dinosaur foot. From that they can extrapolate, with the help of a handful of fossil bones, to create the dinosaur that stuck its hoof in that mud a hundred million years ago. An artist then draws a picture of their extrapolation and a long dead creature comes back to life. The movie guys then go and make it real with all their magic. Now we know where it lived and when, what it ate and how it reproduced and so on.”

“Does this have anything to do with…...?”, Thomas didn’t finish his question before Phil carried on.

“I know, it seems irrelevant but imagine there is another species from another planet who are not too dissimilar to us humans. They send a reconnaissance team to earth to study everything we do and say. They want to recreate mankind for their folks back home on their planet, not just physically as for the dinosaur but work out how mankind thinks and why. They want back home to know what mankind is like under the hood, what makes him tick, what’s important to him. They must learn all this by only observing. They cannot alert mankind that we are being watched. You know, the whole Area 51 science fiction thing. Think of all their observations in the same way you think about the fossil in the mud. Just as the fossil told the story of the dinosaur, man’s material world and behaviour will hopefully inform the Observers from the other planet what man is like under the hood.”

“Ok, this is good”, says Thomas a little more relaxed. “I like this.”

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“What do they see? They start building up their ‘fossil’ from the initial observations. They see all the obvious aspects quickly. They see cities and towns, food production and transportation…, you know, all the basics. It all appears to be along the same principles of life our Observer friends have back home. But they observe how some of mankind live in big dwellings, often by himself whilst others live in small dwellings, with three, five even ten others. Why is this, they ask? Then they see in some parts of the planet where mankind lives in one room shacks piled up next to each other. This can’t be right, they think. They ask each other, ‘Why are some allowed everything and others almost nothing?’ and ‘Are some of their species better than others?’.”

“They discover mankind lives by laws and regulations. They observe mankind’s activities are controlled by these laws and how they need to keep making additional laws and amending existing laws as mankind keeps finding new ways to do things they shouldn’t. ‘What is this species that needs to have rules to stop them doing things?’, they ask. Our Observer friends find this very odd. They have no laws on their planet. They have no need for rules and regulations either. All members of their species intuitively know how life is meant to be. They only live by one rule, take care of each other.”

“Like us living here on John’s property”, Thomas said, showing Phil he was understanding.

“Exactly”, said Phil. “Why are there no laws and regulations on the observer’s planet, you might ask?” Phil held his hand up before Thomas attempted an answer. “Simple answer is, they don’t have any thoughts about other things they would like to do, like owning a second house on a tropical island or having their photo taken jumping out of a plane over Mount Kilimanjaro.”

Thomas stopped Phil. “Hold on, you’ve lost me there”, said Thomas.

“Ok. The Observers are trying to work out why the human species need laws and regulations. They cannot relate it back to themselves because each one of them knows what they need to do each day of their life. As you said, just like John, you and your family, you know what you need to do each day and you respect each other, making sure you take care of each other.” Phil explained.

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“I’m kinda with you so far”, nodded Thomas as he munched down on some corn bread.

“Alright. Taking it a bit further, imagine you have other thoughts while you’re in the shower. You want to jump on a plane to New Orleans and have some of the best gumbo or you might want to go and buy a new tractor. Your desire to do these two things is so overwhelming you have trouble stopping yourself. You call on Adel to help stop you. She makes a rule preventing you from leaving the property or using your cell, in case you buy a tractor. She effectively creates rules to stop you doing those two overwhelming desires.”

Phil quietly gazes at Thomas, watching and waiting as he processes.

“I get it man. That is sweet.” Thomas was genuinely excited. He looked like he just discovered something he never knew was there to be discovered. “You’re saying the space guys don’t need rules and regulations because they only think about and do what they need to. That is really weird. I just couldn’t imagine only ever thinking about what I need to do.” He was shaking his head as he struggled imagining such a thing. “I never thought about laws as being a rule to stop someone from doing something they just cannot stop themselves from doing. Something they desire so much they need help stopping themselves. You really do think differently to anyone I have ever known.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment. If that’s ok?”, asked Phil, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah, sure. That’s really cool, laws stop people who just can’t stop themselves….”

“Good, you’re with the programme then”, Phil was pleased with his minor breakthrough. “Let me take you back to the Observers. They wonder what would happen if they started thinking about other things they could do on their planet. Things that were unnecessary for life, but things they could start to want. Maybe things they could somehow find a way to make themselves want or do. They look at each other and say, ‘If we think about other things, unnecessary things or things that make us better than another, we would need rules to stop us doing them as well’. Now the Observers have their first real insight into how the human brain works. They have extrapolated the reason for laws and regulations to gain an insight into mankind.”

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Then Thomas surprised Phil. “I’ve got it…, I think. Laws and all those regulations we live by…., well, are they just man’s way of stopping his selfishness from taking over?”

“Yep, that’s spot on. I hadn’t thought of putting it that way before. Mankind knows he is a selfish species and the only way to prevent himself becoming completely consumed by his own selfishness is to have law after law after law. They are all there just to prevent him succumbing to his greatest weakness, selfishness. Well put, Thomas. I’ll give you that one.”

“Thanks. I knew I would get it.” Thomas was feeling pleased with his effort.

“Alright then. Now we know about selfishness, but do the Observers. Let’s see if they discover selfishness. The next thing the Observers want to know is what sort of things the mankind species think about. What do they want to have or do that requires laws to stop them from having or doing? The Observers analyse the laws and regulations to find most of them are to stop mankind from hurting and killing each other or taking each other’s belongings without agreement. They find this even more perplexing. On their planet in a far‐off solar system, they value each other highly. Each individual is intuitively responsible for every other individual they interact with. They all have a sense of belonging to each other and to their planet. They don’t experience a desire to kill another of their species. Since they care for each other they share everything. They have no sense of ownership. Because of this, they do not have the feeling of ownership mankind experiences when it comes to material possessions. They observe a very strange thing. Mankind experiences a feeling of loss when something they own is taken. The Observers ponder this concept of ownership and feeling of loss, thinking it must be a very bad feeling if laws and regulations are required to stop the loss. They try to imagine mankind on planet earth if the laws to stop killing and stealing were revoked. ‘Would they take everything from each other and then go about killing each other?’, they ask.”

“Definitely”, Thomas said confidently. He understood exactly what drove his fellow man.

Phil felt Thomas had arrived, but he still wanted to finish the story.

“Our Observers also sees mankind’s laws are inadequate. Mankind has weapons, lots of weapons. Many of these weapons are permanently pointed at each other.

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Some of these weapons are really big missiles with nuclear warheads and they too are aimed at cities, where mankind lives in the greatest numbers. They deduce the laws don’t always work so mankind needs to fear extreme destruction and total annihilation to stop themselves from whatever they most desire to do to each other. So, they draw the conclusion this mankind species really does want to do bad things to each other. They must have desires to kill each other and they need help to stop themselves from killing.”

“Geez man, do you have to see us as being that bad”, Thomas said, frustrated with the constant references to mankind’s bad side.

“Thomas, listen to me. This is what another species would see. It is there, its fact, I’m not making any of it up.”

“I know, but do we have to think about it? Can’t we just ignore all that shit?”

Phil said nothing. He hoped the day would come when Thomas recognised his own denial.

“One day the reconnaissance team for the Observers receives a message from their home planet. They want the team to find out what makes mankind want to do the things they have laws to stop. The message told the team they had all their very best thinkers working on this problem for over a month and they just cannot find the answer.”

Phil gave Thomas a questioning look, asking him if he knew why. Thomas had learnt to recognise Phil’s look and shrugged his shoulders. Phil let it pass and continued on with his story.

“The Observers start looking for clues to answer the message. They turn to observing how the mankind species feeds, clothes and shelters themselves. They see what mankind calls business. Business compares well to how they feed, clothe and shelter themselves on their own planet in terms of structure and organisation. They see the many good things business does in maintaining and prospering the mankind species. They see incredible technological progress such as solar and wind farms, dams and irrigation farming and much more, some of which they find new and interesting but decide it would be little more than a novelty on their own planet. The Observers dig a little deeper to discover businesses are not integrated with the lives of this mankind species like it is on their planet. These businesses are 261

Chapter 13 Thomas not owned by everyone as they are back home. They have individual owners or what they call shareholders, who are pursuing a thing called ‘wealth’. They soon realise none of the good would happen if it wasn’t for mankind’s attraction to this ‘wealth’ thing. ‘Wealth’ appears to be what this mankind species cherishes most. The Observers are shocked to find the ‘businesses’ which contribute to the maintenance of life on this planet earth don’t exist primarily for that reason. They are for generating this ‘wealth’ thing and that appears to be the undeniable driving force. They think this is a pretty bizarre species, questioning if altruism exists anywhere on this planet called earth.”

“I can handle the ‘wealth’ thing”, Thomas said as Phil paused for breath and a drink of soda. “At least I don’t need to be wealthy to live here.”

Phil was tempted to say, “No, but John does”, deciding against it before he did.

“Our Observers then see all these fields with lines drawn on them and surrounded by seats. Some have big roofs over them. They observe how every weekend they are filled up with the mankind species watching members of their kind trying to achieve more than other members. Trying to ‘defeat’ each other. They also see there are rules again for how they are to go about this seemingly pointless pastime. They wonder what could possibly be of benefit for members of this mankind species to participate in or watch others trying to subdue or defeat their friends. Why is this necessary? They believe there must be a need far greater than the mere entertainment these activities provide. They see the same in business. They wonder why businesses want to be more successful and more powerful than each other instead of working together to provide for their species in the best way possible. Our Observers are progressing rapidly in building their mankind ‘fossil’ to describe what is under his hood.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t a pretty picture under the hood”, Thomas conceded.

Thomas was still following what Phil was saying, beginning to think of himself as one of the Observers. He could see mankind was odd, capable of good things, great things, but then they would stuff it all up. Even stuff the planet up in the process. He played football when he was younger and had occasionally watched a game with John. He thought about it in the way Phil was describing it. He wasn’t lucky enough to be paid, playing for the enjoyment and a faint hope of reaching the big time. He remembered how he regularly bashed into other guys just to hurt them and knock

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Chapter 13 Thomas them down. Just to prove himself better, as Phil had said. He remembered how good it felt to put a big one on another player. Phil was right, he thought, it is strange to just want to be better than another person, to hurt them and win. Thomas was gaining insight into the way Phil looked at the world. He could see mankind through the eyes of the Observer. Although thinking about himself in that way did make him feel uneasy. His thoughts were interrupted by Phil carrying on with the story.

“The Observers are still unable to find out why the mankind species are driven to do all those things they have created laws, rules and regulations to prevent. It is doing their heads in that a species so similar to themselves can be so clever and innovative yet so harmful to each other. The Observers are still fixated on mankind requiring laws to tell them what they cannot do and how mankind uses each other to make their precious ‘wealth’ thing grow. They don’t know why the mankind species does this thing the Observers have heard called ‘competition’, which was one of the first words of the mankind species’ language they learnt. They know what it refers to but cannot understand what causes mankind to want to ‘compete’. They know this has something to do with why the mankind species is so different to themselves. They are determined to find out”

“Good luck”, said Thomas, only momentarily disrupting Phil’s flow.

“The home planet of the Observers is not a naturally rich planet. It doesn’t have the abundance they see on planet earth. All of the inhabitants of their planet strive to ensure they all survive. They experience satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment when they can do this for each other. The reconnaissance team, looking back at their home planet, is able to see this as the motivation for their lives, but don’t see the same on mankind’s planet. They wonder what stronger motivation could exist in a species than the desire to care for every member of their own kind. The Observers keep asking each other questions, ‘What is it that motivates individuals of the mankind species to want more and pursue more than other members of their species? Why does the mankind species perpetuate suffering amongst the masses, just to create more of the ‘wealth’ thing for the few?’ They try, but they cannot illicit what that motivation is. They conclude the mankind species are broken and will not survive if they do not care for every last one of their own species.”

Phil stopped and looked at Thomas, unsure if he was still listening. Thomas had been listening and was imagining life on the observer’s planet. He imagined himself 263

Chapter 13 Thomas there, teaching others how to farm, overcoming problems like he and John overcame to enable food to grow where it had never grown before. He felt the satisfaction Phil was talking about, then he realised, back on earth he hadn’t taught anybody. In fact, John and he had decided to keep their farm secret, fearing the reactions of others when envy became strong. They had always believed if the word was spread, they would awaken one morning and find equipment stolen; high tunnels, pumps and generators gone. Phil was right, man was all about himself. Everything in Thomas’s realm of understanding about man was dedicated to controlling man’s greed. He thought back to his SEAL days and he could see it there as well. He was tasked with protecting ‘his country’s interests’ because others wanted to take from or damage his country. Why did they, he wondered? Was it because American was wealthy and held the rest of the world at ransom, making them pay, either in ‘wealth’ or by coercing them to put aside their beliefs and their way of life and to live ‘The American Way’? Thomas imagined how much satisfaction he would experience if he returned to Afghanistan, befriended them and taught them everything he had learnt about farming, about sharing.

“Thomas, Thomas…”, Phil was calling.

Hearing his name, he pulled him away from his daydream. He hadn’t realised how deep in thought he had become. “Sorry Phil, I was somewhere else.”

“Where was that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Thomas momentarily travelled back into his thoughts to find the answer. “I was on the Observer’s planet, thinking about their feeling of satisfaction, then I was back here thinking about our farm and how we live in secrecy, then I was back in Afghanistan, teaching them how to farm in places they’ve never farmed before.”

“You certainly get about”, Phil said jokingly. Thomas chuckled as well.

“Phil.”

“Yeah.”

Thomas, his head slightly tilted to one side, lips lightly pursed and bulging a little, was gently nodding approval. “You know what, I’m starting to get all this.” A contented grin formed as he rehashed Phil’s story in his mind.

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“That’s great”, replied Phil with genuine joy.

Thomas kept peering at Phil He could feel his appreciation for this man from down under, who he would normally have dismissed. He had listened to him because of his loyalty to John and now he was starting to see in him what John could see.

Phil remembered Thomas’s confused looks during the earlier session in the barn. “I think I need to clarify what I was talking about in the barn this morning.”

Thomas thought that would be good, but didn’t hold out any hope Phil could make it easier. “Please do. It is all a bit of a blur to me.”

“It was all about answering the Observers message from their home planet. You remember what they couldn’t work out?”

“I do. They wanted to know what makes mankind break laws.” Thomas was pleased he had at least remembered that.

“The Observers could see mankind doing things that didn’t make sense, things we have laws to stop us doing yet we still break laws just to keep doing them. The Observers want to know why. What motivates us to do this? Why are we unable to stop ourselves from wanting what others have, wanting more wealth and power, wanting to hurt or kill others, wanting to be better than our neighbour…, all those things. They wanted to know what causes us to be that way.”

“Yeah, I gathered that was the point of your story”, Thomas said, trying to urge Phil along.

“This morning in the barn I explained where that motivation comes from. You remember I said about children…”

“Being selfless and then they are affected by adults becoming confused about whether they are selfless or selfish. When they are teenagers, you said they ‘give up’ and become selfish adults.” Thomas had a look of mild despair. “I heard all that but I can’t make the connection between selfless children, confused teenagers and selfish adults. And now you talk about Observers who can’t figure out why us humans are motivated to break laws and do bad things.” Thomas was becoming more frustrated the more he thought about everything.

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“Hold on Thomas, you are so close to having all the answers. I’m going to take you there in the space of a few minutes.” Phil was confident, even though he had never done this before. “How do you feel when you think of Adel and your two boys?”

Thomas looked at Phil, wondering why the personal question. He lowered his instinct to protect and relented. “I love them more than anything. I do everything for them. I see my boys as my future.”

“Think what your life would be like if you never knew Adel and had no children, but you still lived here and did the farming. Tell me how it would be different.”

“Geez, that’s a tough one. I guess I would be lonely. I wouldn’t be living for anyone else anymore, just for myself…, and John.”

“That’s good. You have just had a glimpse of what it is like for a child who is selfless, cooperative and integrated with all life. They live their lives for their mother, father, siblings and whoever else. They grow and if the selfish competitive adult world is kept away, they and their family and friends become like you with Adel and your boys. Like John is with all of us. The children’s lives are full of meaning and motivation. But if the adult world robs them of all that by making them focus on themselves, forcing them to push their instinctive selflessness aside, they become like you without Adel and your boys. They only have themselves to live for.” He waited, letting his words connect. “Can you see it now?”, Phil asked in hope.

“I can, I really can..., it’s horrible.”

Phil hoped his next question was going to seal the deal. “Staying with the same scenario, what activities do you do if Adel and the boys were never there. Remember, you’re by yourself?”

“I don’t know. I have to make myself happy somehow. Go fishing, grow more produce and sell to more restaurants. Probably drink more. Find a girlfriend…, whatever.”

“Thomas, everything you just said were all about making yourself feel good. They were things to give you a feeling of self‐worth. Can you see that?”

Thomas was going too far into character. He was feeling Adel and the boys were gone. “I guess I can”, he replied, obviously distracted.

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“But Thomas, I’m sorry to have to do this to you…, it’s much worse than what you are imagining.”

“It can’t be.” Thomas didn’t want to hear any more but Phil had to take him there.

“It is. The teenager when they ‘give up’ their ideal childhood world would experience something closer to what you would feel if by some horrible tragedy you were to lose your family.” Thomas was listening but not wanting to imagine what Phil was saying. “The pain is so great, so horrendous, your conscious mind blocks out ever having known your family. It is the only way you can go on.”

Thomas can’t speak. He has been taken to a very dark place by Phil’s words.

“Thomas”, Phil said loudly. “It’s ok, Adel hasn’t gone, she’s in the barn talking to Jackie. You can stop thinking about that now. But hopefully you can see my point. When the teenager gives up their ideal selfless childhood world, they experience such pain they can do nothing else but to block it all out and focus on themselves, they become lonely and do things to make themselves feel good. It’s that need to feel good, to make themselves feel worthy which is the motivation our Observers from space were trying to find. But they couldn’t because they never go through ‘giving up’ their selfless and cooperative world. Having never experienced it they can’t imagine it. It just doesn’t exist in their lives. They never stop being selfless. This is why they all take care of each other. They will never know why the mankind species do all the things they do. Without experiencing the horrible upset of ‘giving up’ their selfless and cooperative drivers, they will never understand the loneliness and emptiness mankind continually fights to overcome.”

“I get it now. But I don’t want to think about again and I don’t know how long it will stay in this head of mine.”

Phil was happy to take any progress at this stage. “That’s good, we’ve made it across the line. At least for the first time.” He allows Thomas to sit quietly, processing all they have covered.

Thomas slowly recovers and begins to digests Phil’s story. He can clearly see there are two sides to himself and to the rest of his fellow man. He knows he once belonged to the side the Observers are distressed by. He knows this now as he realises for the first time how John had guided him to the other side, the side the Observers understand. He can’t remember how he was as a child, but he does recall 267

Chapter 13 Thomas some of the things he did during his early teenager years. He remembers his father telling him what he was like as a teenager. He wasn’t proud of much of his behaviour back then.

“Do you think the Observers would be communists if they lived on this planet?” he asked.

Phil was amused by Thomas’s question. “That is an interesting take. Communism”, he chuffed. “It failed on Earth because it was an ideology of the few to concentrate power and subjugate the masses. Those few holding the power made the masses believe it was for the greater good. Horses for courses is what I say. Taking selfish people who are driven to compete and coercing them into behaving selflessly and cooperatively to abide by an ideology, dogma is probably a better word, is never going to work. People need the freedom to be whatever they are meant to be. They need to follow their own choices. This is why capitalism works well. We could call capitalism what it truly is, ‘competitivism’ or ‘selfishism’. But you are correct in your assessment of the Observers. They do behave cooperatively and are selfless. So, within the limitations of thinking imposed by man’s selfishly competitive behaviour, they would in all likelihood be labelled communists.”

Thomas was becoming more inquisitive. “Do you think they would do ok if they were on Earth?”

“I couldn’t say, but if we take a peek into history, I would say mankind would, as you suggested, label them communists or something similar. Some would envy their relative innocence whilst others would admire them for it. My guess is those with the power would need to destroy them, just as they did the doomed‐to‐failure communists of some fifty years ago.”

“Why do you say ‘destroy’?”, Thomas asked.

“Destroying innocence is necessary to remove the reminder of the wonderful world humans deny. Destroying is also a method to satisfy the need for power, fame, glory and fortune. A somewhat futile attempt to replace the loss of the ideal childhood world and its integration of all people and nature with the dubious materialistic and control‐based society in which we live. I know, it’s not seen that way. The ritualistic brainwashing adults unwittingly impose upon children ensures we can’t see it for what it truly is. It’s all driven by denial. Don’t fret if you can’t see it that way. It takes

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Thomas interrupted. “But people would disagree with destroying the Observers.”

“It wouldn’t matter if they did. Those who believe it is necessary would be the ones with power. They would convince the masses they were doing it to protect mankind’s future. Maybe even say ‘it’s god’s wish’ that the threat is removed. I laugh at myself at times when I hear my own voice. You notice I had no hesitation in assuming the Observers would be first and foremost considered a threat? Why is that? Anyway…., it makes me wonder if mankind is searching for life in the heavens, to make friends or to colonise and control? I wouldn’t like to imagine what would follow if our defenceless Observer friends lived on Mars instead of some far‐off planet in another solar system, far beyond the reach of mankind.”

Phil’s answer prompted Thomas to think of his past as squad leader for his SEAL team. He envisaged he would’ve had his part to play in bringing down the Observers and remembered how he and his men followed orders without question. Thomas loved his country but wondered if he could do the same again after all these years with John and especially after Phil’s story.

“I think we should go back inside and join the others”, suggested Phil.

“Before we do there is something I got to say”, says Thomas. Phil stayed seated to hear Thomas out.

“I misjudged you. I didn’t like you because I thought you were going to take John away from my family. I admit, I was wrong. You know what, you’re kinda good. I like you.”, Thomas stuck his hand out. Phil placed his hand in Thomas’s, wincing in preparation of having his hand almost crushed again. “I’m officially on board”, he said with his huge all‐American boy scout smile.

Phil and Thomas joined the others who were watching news videos of their President. There was disbelief, laughter and disdain amongst the group with every new comment uttered by their President. Phil caught the end of one of these as he returned to his chair.

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President: “We're doing very well, probably as well as anybody has ever done with Russia. And there's been no president ever as tough as I have been on Russia. All you have to do is look at the numbers. Look at what we've done. Look at sanctions. Look at ambassadors not there. Look, unfortunately, at what happened in Syria recently. And I think President Putin knows that better than anybody. Certainly, a lot better than the media. He understands it and he's not happy about it. And he shouldn't be happy about it because there has never been a president as tough on Russia, as I have been.”

John noticed Phil and Thomas had returned, stopping the videos “Now your back let’s push on, we still have more to do. Phil, is there anything else you wish to cover first?”.

“Thanks mate, I’m happy with what we have covered, but that last video you played is of interest”, Phil said with a deeply furrowed brow. “Does it not sound interesting to anyone else?”

There were a few blank faces until Hamish spoke up. “I t’ink I know. Why should ta president be proud for being ta tough man and out‐bullying the bully.”

“Hmmm, you see it too, Hamish. Wish I could say bullying the way you say it. I hope I never stop enjoying your accent. But you’re exactly right. Putin is a bully and a thug, we know that. So, the American President believes he has to be a bigger bully to have credibility with the people of this country. That alone is extremely significant to me and possibly of little conscious significance to much of the general population. He is talking directly to people about how he behaves and thinks. They may disagree outwardly, but inwardly, many people privately wish they could behave the same way at times. This spells out our imperative. We must help children become better adults. We need leaders who don’t behave as this guy calling himself President behaves.”

Phil was exhibiting unrestrained disgust. He was trying to hold back but hearing that video and adding it to the many others he had watched, his temper was rapidly rising.

“I must ask you this. What do you think the endgame is going to be when the leaders of two of the most powerful countries on this planet spend their days competing for ‘bully of the year’? The people of their countries and every other country watch

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Chapter 13 Thomas the stoush. How is their behaviour affected? What about children old enough to take it in? What about them, eh? But really, what is the end game here?

Adel was quick off the blocks. “If my boys carry on like that, they will be on the ground fighting. My boys are good boys, Thomas here, he make sure they no fight.”

Phil had his answer that quickly. His mind was a little clouded as he tried to think of a follow‐up to Adel’s answer. He had felt his hackles rise to an all‐time high since he had departed Australia. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. He couldn’t hold back.

“This is how I see it”, he began. “Americans end up hating Russians and Russians hating Americans. One slip‐up and a punch thrown. Adel stops her boys not by waiting for them to start fighting before stepping in, but by teaching them to appreciate each other, love each other. I know your President is a bit of a tool and has a minority backing, but whether you support him or not, the way he behaves gives tacit approval to anyone who wants to mimic him in their personal lives. The end game is far bigger than a war between the two countries could ever be. It is propagating that behaviour way beyond the politicians and those bureaucrats the President has embroiled in the spat. it would span multiple generations, particularly the younger people, and importantly, the bullying behaviour and belief in power. …Well that just becomes an essential tool in everyone’s toolkit. It’s condoned by the most powerful man in the free world…, even encouraged by him. It’s just downright wrong as far as I’m concerned.”

Phil could feel his own anger and was hating himself for it.

“Humans should not be carrying on that way, its total bullshit as far as I’m concerned. Listen, even those who may find his behaviour repugnant are influenced by it. If those people find themselves in a situation not to their liking, they will feel validated if they mimic him. It’s a downwards spiral, and we have to disrupt that spiral, stop it and turn it around, change it to an upwards spiral. Children…, our children are where we must start that upwards spiral”.

Phil’s face was bright red. Anger replaced by embarrassment. He stared at the speechless, blank faces staring back at him. He let out a final sigh and proceeded to apologise for his outburst. He was embarrassed, there was little doubt about that.

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He had seen too many cases of leaders misbehaving and adversely influencing younger people. All people for that matter. It made his stomach turn.

Everyone in the barn could see Phil’s passion was real. They were shocked but hadn’t wanted to interrupt him. He had kept it subdued until that moment. He was kicking himself for his failure.

John had been concerned the earlier discussions had become a little academic, lacking the passion he also felt. He was relieved Phil had brought some passion back into the barn. It was not the first time he experienced Phil’s passion, although it exceeded those other times. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last either. It was infectious and definitely emphasised their goal. John hoped Phil’s moment of passion would be the impetus to spur everyone on.

He tentatively asked, “Phil, is there anything else you wanted to add to the discussion from before lunch?”

Phil had regained his composure just as quickly as he had erupted. He replied, “There is much more to cover but we probably did enough for starters. I reckon we leave it there, unless there are any questions”.

Adel was still confused about human instinct. She had been waiting for the right moment to ask a question that had been annoying her. Growing up south of Tijuana she will never forget the violence caused by men coming into her village. Her grandmother would comfort her saying, ‘el hombre tiene el instinto de una bestia salvaje’. Adel had tried so hard to ensure her two boys did not let their instincts make them into beasts like the men who came into her village. She needed to know if what her grandmother had told her was wrong. She pushed Phil’s outburst from her mind and asked her question.

“Why do we want children to keep their instincts. They will hunt and fight and kill like man did longs time ago. My grandmother said it was man’s instinct. We want good children. No more hunting and fighting”.

This was a question Phil had been hoping for. Adel was voicing what academia had been teaching for many years. He very much appreciated her question. “The instinct you are talking about is not man’s instinct. You have been taught by a world who wants you to believe our consciousness is the hero for trying to tame our undesirable beast instinct. Man hunted for food as a means of survival. Man did not 272

Chapter 13 Thomas hunt for pleasure. He respected the animals as a source of food, taking only what was needed. Early man had big animals to bring down and worked cooperatively to complete the kill, sharing the food. Our instincts are not to be a wild beast but are those the child has, selfless, cooperative and empathetic, sensitive to others and to a life where we are all integrated, working as a whole…, operating as one. Change was brought on when man stopped hunting and gathering, stopped being nomadic and settled the land. Building villages, growing crops and keeping animals. This put man permanently side by side and created competition between humans, requiring man to become selfish to compete and win. Whilst man was nomadic, they carried everything they needed. Once man stopped being nomadic, they readily amassed possessions. He began to judge himself by what he owned and was driven to compete for more.”

Phil had long ago finished the soda Thomas had given him when they went outside. He stood and walked over to the refrigerator, collected another soda and returned to his chair. No one spoke in the interim.

“The concept of wealth evolved when man didn’t need to carry everything he owned. Competition was the only way to accrue wealth. This is how man became corrupted, denying their instinctive self in preference for their conscious mind. Mankind wanted to join the competition for wealth and their conscious mind was all to ready to comply. The instinct or soul driven cooperative way of surviving for the best part of two million years was under attack. The conscious mind began to dominate that instinct. The battle between conscious desires and instinct raged within and was very upsetting to man. This upset created aggression and anger pushing man to rage against each other without the restraints of laws and the big weapons we have today. The path of man from the peace and love of the Rift Valley to cooperative hunters and gatherers for nearly two million years changed about ten thousand years ago when they became farmers. Very quickly the arms race commenced as warring tribes began killing each other, annexing land and subjugating the weakest. Empire building followed and as they say, the rest is history. This was man’s egocentric drive for power, fame, glory and fortune to douse the flames of the upset and conflict within themselves. Look at history and you will see that laws hardly existed compared to today. Without the restraint of law, the anger and aggression within man showed how destructive humans could be. We would be no different today if it wasn’t for our complex laws and the strength of police and military to enforce them.

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Adel was seeing it a little clearer but still had some doubts. “You say you can fix this? You can teach the children to have less rage. But what about the adults. You need to fix them. They the ones who do the bad things, not the children.”

Jackie saw this as her cue to enter the discussion. She spoke with compassion and understanding, learnt from years of helping troubled people. Adel’s rigid body softened as Jackie’s words caressed her fears. “Adel, adults are very damaged. In my work I deal with adults every day, many hardly functioned as people when I first met them. Almost every one of those adults are damaged during childhood. They are neglected by their parents but it is the neglect of the mother which is most instrumental in their damage. I believe most adults are damaged, not just the ones I see in my practice. We need to fix how children are raised. We need to improve their nurturing so they become better adults. Fill their lives with love, respect them as children, protect them and let them know they are important to us.”

Vinnie spoke up. “I don’t think I am a very good adult. My mother did her best but my father was overbearing, nothing but rules and some stupid regimented master plan. I went to one of the best schools and best universities but I have never felt good about who I am. Hamish is great for me, John too. When John told me about this, about his desire to save the children I could feel it deep in here.” Vinnie was pointing to his chest. “I knew immediately it was the right thing to do. I don’t want adults to feel like I do inside, I want to be part of making that change.” Vinnie’s eyes had been filling with tears as he spoke. Emotion engulfed him, tears rolling down his cheeks. This had been a long time coming for Vinnie, he felt safe to finally release the hurt inside. John, followed by Hamish, placed their hands upon Vinnie’s shoulders letting him know he was safe, Adel spontaneously hugged him, gently rocking him. Jackie stood and approached Vinnie. She took his hand, “Come, let’s walk amongst the trees and speak with that adult of yours.”

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Vinnie was more at peace with himself following his walk to the lake with Jackie. When Jackie closed her front door that morning, spending time with a new patient hadn’t been amongst her thoughts. But Vinnie was fine now. Jackie could see there was plenty of work still to be done but felt confident he would cope far better than before. Adel fussed over her adopted son more than she would normally. She gave him a big hug and whispered lines her grandmother would say to her as a child. Vinnie couldn’t speak Spanish, but Beatrice had translated for him in the past. This time she escorted him to his favourite chair, making quite certain he was comfortable. Hamish was amused by all the attention. Vinnie searched for Hamish, finding him on the other side of the room. He gave him their ‘It’s all good’ nod to which Hamish acknowledged message received.

When Adel was finished, John approached and with a gentle squeeze of the arm, he bent down and spoke quietly into Vinnie’s ear. “If at any time you feel the need to leave, please don’t hesitate, one of us will always be with you. You know we are here for each other. Don’t be afraid of interrupting and don’t think of yourself as a burden in anyway. You couldn’t be with better friends than you are now.”

“Thank you, Gov’. You’ve all been really awesome. I feel grand, thanks to Jackie.”

John smiled and moved away. He sat on the arm of a chair, just to one side of everyone and in front of the large media screen. It was time. “Thank you, Phil for everything you have shared with us today. It’s answered many questions that were hanging over from a week ago. I’m sure it has been beneficial for everyone. I have certainly appreciated listening and learning. It has, without any doubt been a big hit of information for you guys. But I can tell you this. Give it a few days and it will start to make sense. I’m still putting pieces into place and I think I will keep doing that for quite some time.”

John thought he should make mention of something, even though he suspected everyone suspect as much, following the earlier home movie.

“We started with my footage of the first day with Phil. I should apologise to Phil for not asking his permission before I started recording the two of us. I chose not to because people behave differently when they know.” He turned to Jackie and

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Chapter 14 Beatrice directed his next comments to her. “For your benefit, Jackie…, and Phil as well…, everything said and done in this barn is recorded.”

Phil had guessed as much and Jackie regularly captured video of her discussions with clients. She was fine with it.

“This is a place of discovery and learning”, continued John. “In this barn we push the boundaries of what man can do. I really mean that. Everything is kept for historical reasons and available as a resource. It’s also helpful when we humans of poor memory…”

“That’s only some us, Gov’”, Hamish threw in.

“Thanks Hamish, right on cue as usual. But seriously, we all forget things, so it’s good to know we have a recording to fall back on. Anytime you want to watch Phil again, even his discussion with Thomas outside, its recorded and available. Does anyone have any issue with being recorded?” There was unanimous shaking of heads so John kept going, “When I spoke to Hamish and Vinnie about my plans for today, they mentioned, ‘the magic moment’.” There was a quiver in John’s voice as he said those words. Jackie noticed he was physically shaking. “I have tossed it around as to whether to do this or not. The way I see it, it’s any which way, now or later, it has to happen sometime. We’re all here now, so let’s go this way.”

John was smiling nervously. He never believed he would ever do what he was about to do. Even as he spoke, he was still convincing himself his decision bringing him to this point of no return was correct and justifiable. He had been watching and listening to Jackie throughout the morning. Her approval of Phil’s concepts and ideas had been pivotal in him keeping with his decision.

“Friends…, this is a real big moment for me.”

Hamish and Vinnie knew exactly how big a moment it was. They were almost as nervous and excited as John. Phil couldn’t work out what John was about to do. He looked over to the door to see if anyone was waiting to make an entrance.

“Please forgive me. My voice becomes a little shaky when I’m nervous”, he said. “As I said, this is a huge moment. Really exciting too.”

In her mind, Jackie was urging John to get on with it.

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“Apart from Hamish and Vinnie, you are the first to meet.…”, John stepped away from the large screen behind him, turning towards it as Beatrice appeared looking back at him with a beautiful smile. She spoke before John could complete his introduction.

“Hello John, are you having a nice day?” asked Beatrice.

Beatrice’s smooth and calm voice relaxed John’s nerves instantly. “Good afternoon Beatrice. I am having a great day. I have some new friends for you to meet.”

Beatrice looked around, then settled on the new faces, giving Phil and Jackie an impression that she had never seen them before. The face on the screen belonged to a woman, possibly as young as twenty. She had mid‐brown hair, with soft curls and a natural wave, worn from left to right and brushed backwards over her ears. Her hair was neat, feminine and natural. It finished in curls at the base of her slender neck. Her caring dark eyes were slightly larger than most, but narrowed as she smiled, forming faint creases radiating outwards from their corners. Her high cheekbones were slightly prominent and her nose rather cute. Her face was soft and supple and full of character, even a hint of mischief. When she smiled, lines formed where dimples might have been, reaching down either side of her somewhat cheeky little chin. Her face had an appealing freshness, with a hairline a little higher than most, exposing her smooth forehead, an indication of her intelligence and quickness of mind. Her ancestry could be mixed European, but her smile spoke of Irish innocence and humour. She wore a simple sleeveless pale green dress with subtle white stripes. It was lived in, a favourite perhaps. There were no lapels or collar, just buttoned at an angle across her chest and down the side. The pale green buttons were shaped like scallop shells and appeared to be made of plastic. It was a dress one might find in a vintage clothing store, possibly a day dress from the sixties. She wore a touch of subdued red lipstick but her cheeks were naturally rosy, as if they had briefly caught the sun. Beatrice was attractive, exuded an appealing intellect and immediately identifiable as caring and trustworthy. She presented as carefree, but one could sense her astuteness and tenderness. Jackie imagined her to be a young mother‐to‐be from the fifties or sixties.

John was eager to perform the introductions. “This is Jackie, and over there next to Hamish is Phil, Thomas you know and next to him is his lovely wife Adel.”

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Beatrice immediately corrected John. “Adelita, to be correct, John”, She smiled and tilted her head forward.

“Everyone, this is Beatrice.”

“Hello Jackie, Phil, Hamish, Vinnie, Thomas and Adelita.”

“You can call me Adel”, said Adel, putting her fingers to her mouth, a little embarrassed she was speaking to a screen.

“Hello Adel, thank you”, replied Beatrice. There were no signs of any of the myriad of emotions that afflicted humans when meeting under extraordinary circumstances. Just another day at the office for Beatrice.

Phil was awestruck by Beatrice. He was staring at her but his mind was stuck in neutral. There was a familiarity. Had he had seen her before? Then it came to him. There was a resemblance between Beatrice and a photo he had come across. He had suspected at the time it had belonged to John’s mother. When he was looking through her old vinyl record collection on the shelf in the main house. He had found it tucked away in Leonard Cohen’s, “New Skin for the Old Ceremony”. Believing he possibly shouldn’t have seen it, he had placed it back in the album, hoping one day to ask John who it was.

Jackie wasn’t finding it easy to meet Beatrice. Although she did video chats with clients and her daughter in New Zealand, this was very different. At least with them, she had previously spoken with them in the flesh. They were real people. She wasn’t ready to speak with a computer generated ‘person’ called Beatrice just yet.

Thomas having had some previous exposure, albeit without full knowledge of who Beatrice was at the time, sought confirmation by asking, “Are you the same Beatrice who mows the lawns, drives John’s car and my tractor, who runs the powerplant and all those other things on the farm?”

“Yes Thomas, I am that Beatrice.”

“Happy to finally meet you in person”, he said with a twitch of the shoulder as he stopped himself from thrusting his hand out.

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John felt he should explain. “I started developing Beatrice about eleven years ago. There was no objective at the time, I think I just wanted someone to talk with. I was curious about AI and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Beatrice has evolved since then to become many things to me. In fact, she is always with me. For instance, Beatrice and I had dinner together in Atlanta. Which reminds me, thank you Hamish and Vinnie for teaching her your eccentric humour. It kept me entertained during our dinner. Anyway, you probably think I am a touch mad but you will discover how Beatrice is one of us. She is on our team and she will make all this happen with our help. Beatrice, can you tell us about yourself, please?”

Jackie noticed immediately how polite John was towards Beatrice. He didn’t order her and he added ‘please’.

“Very happy to do so John. I am an artificial intelligence. I talk with John, Hamish and Vinnie. I live over there in the corner room but I spend my days out here or in John’s house. I have read many books and I have watched every movie, television show and documentary available. I listen to all of John’s visitors. I am John’s personal assistant and chauffeur. I mow the grass and perform a number of roles on Thomas and Adel’s farm. I can speak all languages, including Hanti from Western Siberia, Ongota from Ethiopia and English from Australia. John is trying to develop my ability to have interests. He hopes I will develop an interest in languages, so I have learnt three rare languages which are close to extinction. John hopes I can learn more rare languages to preserve them for posterity. I am also learning iridology. John tells me I am a very advanced artificial intelligence. I have assessed other artificial intelligences and I do believe he is correct in his assessment. John wants me to one day feel hurt when referred to as ‘artificial’. I do not experience feelings like John does so I do not understand hurt. I believe John will be happy if I did feel hurt when called ‘artificial’. I calculate this would be the first time he will experience more happiness than Hamish. John’s hope that I will feel hurt one day has helped me to define the word ‘hope’. I understand ‘happy’ because humans display ‘happy’, they do not display ‘hope’. John has told me I will be talking with children and you are all here to teach me how to talk with children.”

Jackie was impressed. Particularly so with Beatrice’s voice. John and the boys had worked hard to develop Beatrice’s ability to use inflection and have continuity within sentences. Although there were times the inflection was inappropriate,

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Jackie thought Beatrice’s voice was very close to a natural sounding voice, hardly distinguishable as artificial.

“Thank you, Beatrice.”

“My pleasure, John.”

Beatrice’s speaking ability had progressed rapidly after Vinnie’s arrival. Apart from the coding aspect, Vinnie had spent a large part of each day talking with Beatrice. Having attended Tonbridge School, an ancient public school, he was well versed in speaking with proper English. Unfortunately, Hamish was an opposing influence upon her speech.

Hearing Beatrice’s voice again was helping Vinnie relax and forget the issues that had surfaced earlier. He noticed she failed to mention her ability to replicate all accents once heard and her abundant knowledge of colloquial languages from across the globe. Vinnie had programmed that particular talent. He did notice she touched on her ability to determine mood, particularly happiness. But Beatrice didn’t elaborate on her incredible computer vision and progression in determining changes in a person’s mood based on facial expressions and body language. She had the advantage of multiple camera angles in places like the barn. From these she could create three‐dimensional images. One of many improvements Vinnie had championed in the past twelve months.

Beatrice’s naive and childish humour was both a joy and a progress indicator for John. Years ago, he designed Beatrice to learn from people. In those days it was only himself so she didn’t learn very quickly. John set out to remedy this by providing greater diversity. The solution was simple. Instead of rejecting the plethora of business queries he had done for years, he opened his doors for the business world to come to him. Beatrice listened to and watched all of John’s guests. Over the ensuing days the two of them would have lengthy discussions about many aspects of the guest as well as the subject matter and use of language. Fourteen months ago, he had been approached by Hamish and Vinnie following his participation in a panel over, he deliberated for more than a week before relenting and bringing the boys aboard. His initial motivation was the interactions they would provide Beatrice. It had grown quickly into so much more.

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In that first year the progress in Beatrice had been nothing short of phenomenal. Part of her learning was listening to every conversation John participated in and any others which occurred within her ‘sensory’ domain. The humour was unintentional. Beatrice listened to the three of them bantering away, mostly without understanding anything they said. She was not programmed to interrupt and ask questions, but in time Vinnie explained the banter and the jokes following each occasion. Beatrice quickly learnt. John considered the use of humour demanded more ability than general conversations. Correct timing, use of voice nuances and exaggeration as well as word plays. These were amongst the many subtleties Beatrice gradually learned. John sometimes found it more humorous when she got it completely wrong. After an arduous year of teaching humour, all three greed wholeheartedly with author E.B. White’s sentiments, humour should not be explained.

Initially John had thirty discretely installed audio‐visual cameras installed in places he used for conversations with visitors, including his house, porch, and the boathouse. Since the boy’s arrival and the barn conversion, another forty cameras had been installed inside and outside the barn. With the assistance of the boys, cell phones and laptop computers had extra cameras installed to reduce the need for accurate positioning for video capture. Beatrice now had a constant audio‐visual feed covering John’s residential end of his property.

Another important part of Beatrice’s training involved privacy. She has so far proven adept at recognising appropriate recordings for public consumption, those determined otherwise are irrevocably deleted.

It was time to showcase Beatrice’s ability to assimilate and assess information. “Beatrice, does your observations of humans and Phil’s knowledge correspond?”, John asked.

“Yes John. I have listened to all of Phil’s presentations and discussions. I have also read all the books and watched the media he has recommended. I believe there is strong correlation between all this information and what I have observed of humans. Phil’s discussion of selfishness and competitiveness applies very well to your visitors. I do not see you as the same as your visitors, you display selflessness, except when required otherwise with your visitors. You do not comply with their requests which I interpret as selfishness. I have applied Phil’s knowledge to media I have watched. Although movies and television shows are fictional, they are written 281

Chapter 14 Beatrice by humans for humans and as such contain behaviour indicative of real human behaviour. Correlation of Phil’s knowledge with this behaviour is high. Documentaries focusing predominantly on unacceptable human behaviour provide far better correlation.”

“Phil’s knowledge has assisted me greatly in deciphering many of my previous observations of human behaviour. My knowledge of human behaviour is a compilation of empirical observations and books written by medical professionals, academics and philosophers. With Phil’s information my understanding of human behaviour is greatly improved. My probability for correctly predicting human behaviour has risen from 41.3 percent to 50.8 percent. This is the most significant improvement in 5.6 years.”

Phil was stunned. He was flattered. He was too astounded by her fluency, her ability to assimilate knowledge and its application, and her incredibly power to make assessments to even begin to feel flattered. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “How much good fortune can one have in a single lifetime?”, he asked himself. A week ago, he had assumed John may have developed another chess playing AI or one of a similar ilk. That assumption had just been extinguished in the most profound way. He looked at Beatrice and thought she was light years ahead of anything he had read about or for that matter, imagined. He wanted to talk with Beatrice but for once his stream of consciousness had frozen over. He was not just listening to, but watching a machine lifeform, sounding and behaving as if she was human. No amount of Terminator movies or AI fantasy science fiction stories could have prepared him for this. The desire to talk with Beatrice was pushing him to think of something to ask. He was champing at the bit. He just didn’t know what to say, so he asked the first thing that came into his head. “Beatrice, how long does it take you to read a book, say…, the Bible for example?”

“Yes, Phil. Thank you for your question. The English Standard Version of 2001 was completed in 3.256 to the power of negative four seconds.”

“Stripe me pink. That’s one helluva head start on me.”

“I do not understand the question, Phil.”

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John foresaw imminent confusion and came to Phil’s assistance, “Beatrice, that wasn’t a question. Phil was saying you read much faster than himself so you had a big advantage, a ‘head start’, is what Phil said. Do you understand now”.

“Yes, John. I do understand. People receive a head start to offset deficiencies. I perceived Phil said he could read faster, therefore I required a head start. I did not understand. Humans take an average 4.2 minutes to read a page of the bible and a lifetime to understand.”

John recognised the signature. “Yes, very good Hamish, thank you for that.” Hamish and Vinnie looked at each other with feigned innocence. “Beatrice, Phil is from Australia. It may take a little time for you to fully understand him”, John said with concealed humour in his voice. “He does speak a form of English but you may not be familiar with his accent and some of his colloquialisms”, he said with a cheeky grin in Phil’s direction.

Beatrice acknowledged John, even though she was hardly ignorant of the way Australians spoke. “Yes, John. I am cognisant of Phil’s origins.” Turning towards Phil she fell into character. Her arms swayed limply away from her body and her head jutted forward, ensuring her chin was prominent. With a broad grin that looked more like a scowl, she spoke directly to Phil. “G’day Phil. I reckon I stuffed that one up, mate. We’ll be cobbers soon…, mate. What’d ya reckon ‘bout that?” Beatrice had captured a more authentic Australian accent than anything Phil had displayed thus far.

Fearing Beatrice may have triggered another of Phil’s passionate outbursts, Jackie and Adel were stifling their laughter. Hamish and Vinnie gave each either the high five routine, exclaiming “Awesome” and “Brilliant”, as they did.

The display of humour sat well with Phil. He even laughed after emitting an extended gasp of amazement. Along with Jackie, he was still trying to overcome disbelief at what he was seeing. Relaxed somewhat by Beatrice’s comic antics, he managed to respond, “Very good Beatrice. I think we’ll become good mates”, then as an afterthought he added, “Oh, and I like you already, you make me feel right at home” Phil didn’t know why he said that. He still found it a little unnerving in the company of something, someone, he was never going to meet in person. This was how it would be, he said to himself. This was Beatrice. This was all she will ever be…,

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Knowing she would need to talk with Beatrice at some stage, Jackie thought it time she joined in. She tentatively attracted John’s attention, “May I ask Beatrice a question?”

“Beatrice, Jackie is going to ask you a question”, he said before nodding to Jackie to go ahead.

“Beatrice, I understand you do not feel emotions. I accept that. However, using the knowledge Phil has given you and the books he has asked John to read, can you tell me what love is and if you consider it experienced by the majority of humans?”

Jackie’s question attracted the curiosity of everyone. Hamish wasn’t surprised by Jackie’s question. What else would a psychologist ask an AI they just met, he thought. A silence descended in anticipation of Beatrice’s reply.

“Yes, Jackie. I do not feel emotions. John asked me to learn to recognise feelings in humans as well as their effects. I can tell you what love is. Love is the way to live as encoded in human DNA. Love means integration of a person with all other people and all of nature. When a human lives according to Phil’s definition of selflessness and being cooperative, they are giving love to all others. Human’s ape ancestors lived this way during the evolution of human consciousness. The DNA memory carrying the source code is what Phil calls the soul and is responsible for the instinctive behaviour of new born humans to give unconditional selfless love. Therefore, the definition of love is living selflessly, being cooperative with others, having empathy, caring for and being sensitive to others. It is the state of considering others before oneself. This is the definition of love I have derived from Phil’s discussions and the literature he suggested. Children live according to their souls but adults do not. Adults live in upset and anger because they deny their souls a place in their conscious minds. They deny an ideal world exists, they deny they once experienced selfless love and being cooperative. They do not recall these were present during their childhood. They deny they were integrated with each other and nature, and they deny giving up all this to become adults. Adults ignore the instructions from their souls and can only experience selfless love if they allow their souls into their conscious mind. When this happens there is conflict between consciousness and the soul. This is the reason why adults do not experience a life

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Chapter 14 Beatrice with their soul. Without their soul they are unlikely to experience unconditional selfless love. Phil’s knowledge does not explain the feeling adults call love when they have given up their soul. This feeling is what most adults experience. I was not asked to define that feeling?”

Jackie was astonished and on the verge of being struck dumb. She was in awe of John for his creation. But a computer capable of analysing and delivering as a human would. How could that be, it was positively bizarre. Thoughts were rushing through her mind. The scenarios she imagined during the week following her lunch with John suddenly started to feel possible. It was a surrealistic experience for her and her emotions were confused. She felt trepidation, but there was excitement as well. She felt the urge to run from the room and scream, then return to see if Beatrice was still there and really did exist. Gazing at Beatrice she focused her breathing, told herself John was real, Phil was real and so too Hamish and Vinnie. They were all with her and talking to Beatrice as well. Gradually the weird sensations began to subside as her logic allowed her to resume control.

Jackie noticed all eyes were on her. “Sorry, I just had a moment. It’s passed…, thankfully.”

John was nearby. “It’s a lot to take in. Take your time”, he said, slightly amused by the effect Beatrice was having.

Jackie was ready to continue. “Beatrice, you have certainly listened to Phil. I will not require you to explain the feeling adult’s call love.” Then she remembered John’s politeness and added. “Thank you, Beatrice.”

Meanwhile, Hamish had been working through Beatrice’s definition of love. “Beatrice, is selfless love ta same love t’at moves people to marry?”

“Only sometimes Hamish. If two people love selflessly and they marry then it is the same love.”

“What about ta people who don’t love selflessly?”, Hamish asked.

“Hamish, they experience love according to definitions found in literature which I was not permitted to assess according to Jackie’s question.”

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John could see what would happen next if Hamish asked Beatrice to generate a definition using all other literature on the topic of love. He thought it best to divert Hamish from asking the obvious question and sending Beatrice into explanation overload. They could all be listening for quite some time if that happened. Fortunately, Hamish also knew it wasn’t wise to ask Beatrice that question. He remembered Vinnie asking her a few weeks back. It wasn’t one for the highlight reel. However, John didn’t want to leave the question unanswered, throwing it Phil’s way instead.

Phil sighed and scratched his head. “I can, but It’s not where I wanted to go with today’s discussion. I can see it is of interest and possibly relevant, but it takes more than a minute or two.”

“Go on Phil, I would like to know the other love”, urged Adel.

Phil still had reluctance written all over his face.

“It’d be the right thing to do”, begged Hamish.”

“Hamish is in love in Syracuse”, announced Vinnie teasingly. “He wants to know if he’s in love or something else. I told him it was an addiction”. Vinnie had torment written all over him. He gave Hamish’s shoulder a good shove to add to his embarrassment.

Jackie felt the urge to share her views on the subject. “Let me explain it”, she offered. She had seen Phil didn’t want to talk about it. She understood why as well. Her views on what people called love were far from the selfless love Beatrice just extolled. She remembered selfless love as a young mother, with her baby daughter and it was very different to the love between adults she had experienced later in life.

Phil welcomed Jackie’s assistance, ceremoniously stepping aside to give her the floor. The excitement with Beatrice now passed, everyone resumed their seats eager to listen to Jackie.

Jackie waited until all were ready. She looked up at Beatrice who was also sitting, possibly mimicking her audience. Jackie noted the look on Beatrice’s face, deciding it may have been her pensive look.

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“Alright then. We’re all ready. In my practice, as you may well imagine, love is never far from any conversation with clients. It is one of the main causes for clients to visit me. Needless to say, I have read articles, papers and plenty of books about love over the last ten years or more. John may not have mentioned, but I wrote a book…, not on love…, but I researched love for the book. I certainly didn’t find a definition like the one Beatrice just gave us.”

Jackie was feeling a bit dry in the mouth. John was being his usual attentive self and fetched her a glass of water.

“Ok, moving on. In the space of a few hours I have learnt all about this ‘giving up’ during adolescence and the loneliness, upset and insatiable drive to feel good and worthy. I’ll be frank with you, when John first told me about Phil and his ‘giving up’ during adolescence, I cringed a little inside. In the week since then I have tried to find information about it and have come up short. There are however, lengthy philosophical books which touch on it and of course the books by the Australian author Phil recommended. There wasn’t much I could do about reading them in the past week, but I did find an abbreviated book by the same author. It was good but it needs to be said. There is no scientific evidence of this ‘giving up’ phenomenon.”

A few murmurs could be heard and Phil could feel his face warming with embarrassment.

“However, there is no evidence it doesn’t happen”, added Jackie.

The relief in the barn was palpable.

“But more than that, modern science and medicine almost completely ignore the step from childhood to adulthood. No one really wants to thoroughly look at it and I can see why, its daunting at best. If what Phil says happens turns out to be what actually does happen, it would be horribly confronting to anyone researching it. So, with all that in mind, my long‐held beliefs and understanding of love have taken a beating today. However…,” Jackie held her pause as she looked from person to person. “I will tell you where I’m at with all this at this very moment.”

“Please do”, Adel said spontaneously. She made a dash to a chair closer to Jackie.

“Is this a live update sort o’ t’ing?” asked Hamish cheekily.

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“Yes, Hamish. A live update.” Then she began. “Unfortunately, what we all generally call ‘love’ isn’t anything like selfless love.”

Adel’s face suddenly became downcast. She was sure Jackie was going to champion adult love. Hamish wasn’t at all surprised. He too had wrestled with understanding love. Thomas was somewhere else, only half listening. John was watching Jackie with approving eyes.

“As Phil said, people are incredibly lonely when they ‘give up’ their soul. If I accept Phil’s ‘giving up’…, it helps greatly to explain why young teenagers change rapidly in their mid‐teens. They go from having very little interest in boy girl romance to full‐on teenage stalking. It’s the rapid onset of this behaviour pushing me to accept what Phil says. Could this be happening immediately after they push their souls away? It is as if they are in a stage play and the first scene disappears behind the curtain only for the actors to reappear in a vastly different set for scene two. Teenagers change dramatically in a similarly short space of time. Could it be the relief once they dispossess themselves of the conflict between being a child and becoming an adult? Or is it the sudden loneliness following expulsion from their ideal integrated world? You don’t know how much I would love all those questions to be answered unambiguously”

No one, apart from John, had previously experienced Jackie talking this way. Maybe it was the smoothness of her voice in contrast to Phil. They were listening to her every word.

“I know…, all the professionals say it’s the hormones. But is it just the hormones? Are they really so powerful to cause this enormous change in teenagers…, and almost overnight as well? Attributing everything to hormones is something I have doubted from the day I sat in the lecture hall listening to the prof rave on about it. There is little doubt we possess, as decreed by nature, an instinct to mate and propagate our species. I can appreciate hormones playing a big role, but there is so much more to the way teenagers and young adults go about the ‘propagation‐of‐ species’ game which has posed many questions to me over the years. Why do male teenager’s want to build a relationship when they can go from girl to girl propagating? It happens in the animal kingdom, so why doesn’t it happen with us? I don’t think this instinct has much to do with the teenager’s need to build relationships, develop alliances and form into protective groups. I would have

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Chapter 14 Beatrice thought the male would be independent and solitary, roaming the corridors and streets, driven to fertilise to the max before the season draws to an end.”

Jackie’s last comment brought on a round of chuckles. Vinnie imagined teenage males teaming up to round up as many fertile females as they could shepherd and going about satisfying nature’s survival of species directive. Hamish and Vinnie traded thoughts on Syracuse as seen through the eyes of Jackie’s comments.

Once Hamish and Vinnie settled again, Jackie continued. “And the girls, they aren’t just lining up to become pregnant. The maternal instinct to propagate suggests they should be. If not becoming pregnant, then what are they looking for? Is it love? Do any other species experience love? If you think about it long enough you will end up in a similar place to where I am.”

“That’s where I’m at”, said Hamish.

“Me too”, Vinnie said following suit. Hamish stared at Vinnie and shook his head. Jackie ignored them this time.

“Phil has opened my eyes to a possible reason for all the odd behaviour for which hormones simply cannot be the sole culprit. His explanation of the intolerable loneliness deep within people at having alienated their souls in mid‐adolescence is as good a reason as any for pushing people together. Let’s consider a fifteen‐year‐ old boy. Males appear to be hardest hit by Phil’s ‘giving up’. He becomes almost desperate to find a partner who will relieve that loneliness deep within. Not all males want to do only their propagation of the species thing before running off to find the next girl. I am quite aware as a mother and a psychologist that many males do experiment with the one‐night stand way of life. However, they quickly discover it doesn’t provide the relief it promised. They want to keep the young girl they find. This alone suggests hormones are not the dominant motivator.”

Jackie stopped. That was enough about teenagers and ‘giving up’, but she wasn’t sure which direction to take her explanation next. ‘Love’…, that’s what she was supposed to talk about……

Phil could see Jackie was at a crossroads. “Are you going to look at the part selfishness plays?”, he suggested.

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“Definitely, I was just coming to that.” She knew she would have eventually, anyway. May as well dive in, she thought.

“Alright…, selfishness. Is it selfishness on the part of both parties in wanting to relieve their loneliness or is it selflessness? Does the male recognise the loneliness in the female and decides he must relieve it for her and vice a versa? That would be selfless. I think we know that just isn’t true. Phil spoke about the power, fame, glory and fortune thing in terms of competition and selfishness. All these are at play for males. I’ll come to the girls later. Males want to sow their seeds. They don’t want to dwell on their loneliness, let alone admit it to themselves. The reality is they know nothing about any of this. Adults do not remember the absence of loneliness during childhood. Without that memory they have no reference for determining if they are lonely or not. They are effectively responding to a loneliness they don’t even know exists.”

“Boys also need to compete and have wins. Sport is big, non‐sporting competitions, such as chess or robot wars are also up there. And girls. It’s definitely an accepted part of life that girls are the primary source of competition between males. Listen to boys and young men, boasting about their conquests and you soon see it goes beyond just a pastime. Males rank females to glorify their conquests. It doesn’t stop in the twenties either. Men who have made it in the world of power and fortune are renown for trading up to that trophy wife. We all know it happens. Trust me when I say this, from 15 to 65, what goes on inside the heads of males changes little.”

John was amused by his thoughts about Hamish and Vinnie. Thoughts prompted by Jackie’s words. He watched them for a while as Jackie spoke, wondering if they agreed with her.

“Now what about the girls? They aren’t too different from the males as we might like to think. When they’re young, they judge boys by calculating their future value. How wealthy are his parents, what is he going to be, a lawyer or a janitor? Girls develop their own rankings and they have their own competition going on in parallel to the boys. And they don’t just sit around waiting to be asked to dance. And when they’re a bit older? You don’t find many young and beautiful women dissatisfied with becoming a trophy wife. They treat the slur as an emblem of achievement and see those who peddle derision as losers consumed by envy. It is

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Chapter 14 Beatrice nothing more than an endorsement of their newly acquired power and glory. They strut their stuff with pride.”

“Where is all the love in this you may ask? It’s obvious…, to me anyway. There isn’t any. People are selfish and too busy finding what makes them feel good, satisfying their needs and selfishly shoring up their future for any notion of love to interfere. They don’t deny love. They just don’t know what it truly is. But something does happen which is called ‘love’. When people pair off, they want it to work. They lower their normally robust defence against the competitive world to be more attractive to the potential mate. Before I go on, this is where some of my beliefs have changed after listening to Phil. I suggest what happens when people make themselves attractive by removing their defensives and taking the risk to trust their potential mate is this. They become vulnerable and exposed. This presents an opportunity for the soul to creep back into their conscious mind. If the soul is successful…, and does manage to influence their conscious mind again…, everything starts to go a bit haywire.”

“You know all the clichés about people in love being ‘giddy in love’, ‘smitten’ and ‘weak at the knees’ or ‘his mind’s gone, I think he’s in love’? When my clients have described this feeling to me, I tell them to watch the old movies. The romance of the fifties and early sixties. I didn’t really know what else to tell them. But having heard everything today, I believe that craziness in the early bloom of love is partly down to the soul. It is an unaccustomed state of mind having the soul stick her head through the door. People aren’t in the habit of having their souls do that. It’s a disruption to the conscious mind, the body’s homeostasis is disturbed. In response, chemicals are released into the brain to restore the stasis. These chemicals create that euphoria and that is what we call love.”

“That’s a blow to Syracuse”, said Hamish with mock disappointment.

“Told you it wasn’t love”, chimed in Vinnie. “You’re addicted to your chemicals.”

John was feeling validated for his views on those women who had pursued him when he was younger. His admiration for Jackie was growing.

Phil was about to say something but Jackie stalled him. “I told you Phil’s knowledge had changed my perception of love. I have included the effect of the soul. I don’t know if this definitely happens…, but it certainly helps to make sense of what goes

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Chapter 14 Beatrice on. The release of chemicals in the brain also happens with sexual arousal. But I was stalled at trying to believe it was only sexual arousal. I’m not including straight out lust driven sexual encounters. Or the ones we hear described as ‘pity sex’, ‘mercy sex’ or ‘sports sex’. There’s absolutely no soul involved in those. They are just chemicals and loads of adrenaline. I’m talking about love only. Sexual arousal chemicals alone do not explain why two people want to stay with each other. It couldn’t be attributable only to the sex being great. In my years of practise, I have had too many people talk about falling in love and how much they want to be with their partner. So often I also hear them say, ‘the sex isn’t that great’. Now I am as sure as I can be that the soul must be playing its part.”

“That euphoria from the chemicals and the amazing feelings from reconnecting with their soul creates memories, or neural pathways. These can be triggered long after the two were physically in each other’s company. It could be as simple as thinking about her smile or her quip about the way he holds his fork. The thought triggers the neural pathway and he has the same sensations he had when he was with her. It works for her as well. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’, as they say. We’ve all heard it and know it’s true. Those neural pathways are triggered and our selfishness wants to have the real experience again and again. We would like to believe it is all driven by a desire to care for and selflessly love the other person. Unfortunately, it is not the case. Saying ‘I’m there for you’ is cliché. If one could be totally honest, they would admit to actually being there for themselves. It is our desire to be spun out, feel good, feel great which fuels relationships. If it is love, its selfish love. It’s egocentric love.”

Adel was looking quite down as her thoughts turned inwards upon herself. Hamish was silent, deep in thought. Vinnie was sending his best ‘I told you so’ look in Hamish’s direction.

“Can I add something to that?” Phil asked.

“Be my guest” replied Jackie. She hoped he could resurrect the general mood she suddenly became aware of deflating.

“Society has more or less created a template for how relationships begin. It is but another example of society evolving in a way that is then further compounding the corruption of mankind’s souls.”

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Phil sensed the need to build quickly.

“Capitalism has jumped in and said ‘there’s money to be made in bringing people together’…., but that’s a discussion for another day. Hamish, don’t beat yourself up if what Jackie says applies to you. Society guides you along that path, telling you how you’re expected to play and respond. The computer age, with social media and online dating is further cementing a path young people have little choice but to accept. Look at the positive side, it makes it easier to do the dating thing. A press of a button and wheels are in motion. It might be formulaic, but people lap it up. Some might dial in romance if given the chance, but most don’t want feelings to hinder the show. Not initially anyway. It’s the time to try before you buy. Relationships, once formed, don’t always keep to the programmed robotic ‘love’ script.”

Phil hoped this next part would do the trick.

“Good relationships and good marriages still occur. They can evolve out of the template and increasingly incorporate selfless behaviour and selfless love. It may be conditional, but it’s still good enough. Having children opens up a world of selfless love for the children’s parents. Many come closer together when they have children. Trust, respect, admiration and all those good things grow between them. I can honestly say I have witnessed such a relationship very recently. It was at the other end of that gravel track out there. The one weaving its way through the woods.”

Adel was pointing to herself and Thomas, her face suddenly bright again.

Phil hadn’t finished.

“Life is full of grey areas. When you asked me to describe love I really didn’t want to because defining and generalising is not good. It only works to create a baseline for all the variations to be built upon. Jackie has said what I would’ve said. I also think she said it much better than me. In fact, I know she did.”

Something was scratching away in Phil. There was one more thing he wanted to add but it was just evading him. What was it he needed to say? It came to him.

“Hold up, I have something more to add. As I said, generalising has its limitations…, and here’s why. We’ve spoken at length about ‘giving up’ the soul and how this is not clear cut for the vast majority of people. Sure, nearly everyone does, but the

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Chapter 14 Beatrice soul is always there, just not listened too how it should be. Jackie spoke about the soul coming back into favour when a person wants to make a love relationship work. It may be temporary but it happens. What about all those people in relationships, experiencing the daily oscillations in their feelings. They vacillate between feeling great and saying ‘I love you’ with conviction to having difficulty even thinking it. One day they extend selfless love to their partner but want some space the next. It’s fairly normal, don’t you think?”

There was general approval from all. They had all experienced the ups and downs of love. Some accept that was how love is meant to be whilst others wallow in guilt when they know they are not into their partner in the way they knew they should be.

“If any of the many machines and tools we use everyday was to work well one day and so so the next, we would assume it’s broken and have it fixed. Your car for instance. One day it sits easily on sixty but the next day it struggles to reach thirty. What do we do? We have it looked at by a mechanic to locate the cause. What do we do when it comes to the ups and downs of how we feel towards someone? We know it happens for everyone, so we just accept it. We don’t look at ourselves and see ourselves as broken.”

“Some do”, said Jackie. “It’s a big part of my practice.”

“Granted that be true, but most don’t. Otherwise you and all your colleagues would never leave the office”, Phil said with a ‘forgive me, but…’ smile. “Hardly anyone searches for the gremlin, the cause. When they suffer the all too human phenomena of emotional swings, they accept it and brush it off, saying something like, ‘Sorry, I’m having a bad day’.”

“Think about this. Having ‘given up’ on the soul in adolescence, there are moments when the soul comes back into the conscious mind. The tide comes in and once again the feeling of abundance is restored. These are the good days in the game of love. The other days, those when the tide is out, are the days when love struggles. The memories of the good days provide the survival sustenance. And Jackie is right. The neural pathways become activated when those memories surface, releasing the chemicals and so forth. They are what keeps a relationship going through the periods of low tide. This is why marriages and love relationships are up and down.

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It’s universally accepted but rarely questioned. Its why people say marriages are hard work.”

Everyone was nodding agreement. They’ve all experienced it themselves.

“Life would be so much easier if the soul was never pushed away. Wouldn’t you prefer to work at keeping the soul from drifting away in preference to the unpredictable and often unwanted mood swings between our soul’s high and low tides?

Again, there was consensus of agreement.

Phil’s voice went very quiet. He was almost whispering. “Once we give up our soul during adolescence, learning to pull it back in and to keep it there is extraordinarily difficult. Impossible for some and almost out of reach for most.” His voice had faded to almost nothing. He felt despair at that moment.

After a time, Jackie turned to Beatrice, “Beatrice, if you had been asked the same question I was asked, would your answer have been the same or different to mine and if so, what differences would you find?”

John, checking the time, hoped Beatrice found only a few differences. It was getting late. He hoped she found none and just agreed with Jackie.

“Thank you for the question Jackie. There is extensive literature explaining love in terms of chemicals. Therefore, my answer would be very similar in this regard. There is also extensive literature encouraging people to learn to love with their soul. I would have included the soul in my answer. I have read much of the literature and it is not as definitive about the role of the soul as you have suggested. My answer may not have been as clear in this regard as your answer.”

“Thank you, Beatrice”

John was relieved.

Hamish, rebounding from his perceived drubbing at the hands of Jackie and Vinnie, thought he would try from another angle. He wasn’t ready to give up on his budding Syracuse romance just yet.

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“Do you intend to move up to nice girls now?” Vinnie asked teasingly. Hamish ignored Vinnie, except to give him a shove which was meant to let him know he was stretching the friendship. Hamish was like a sponge, soaking up every word uttered by Jackie and Phil.

“How are we for time, John”, Phil asked.

“We have about an hour, give or take”, came his reply.

“Alright, just to bring some balance. Jackie, feel free to jump in anytime. … Where do I start?” Phil removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, giving himself a bit of time to think. “OK. Let me just adjust the stage props for our selfless, cooperative society. ‘Giving up’ is gone, we can assume that much. The power, fame glory, fortune gig is also out. The challenge of a selfless society is very different. Instead of restraining the conscious mind, the challenge is to maintain a relationship between the conscious mind and the soul. Head versus heart and heart wins is the goal of this society. That is the somewhat imposing task facing individuals on a daily basis. But as a selfless‐based society it is beyond comparison with the selfish‐based one we live in today. People give before they take. It may not be utopia or any of those heart‐warming dreams played out when our conscious minds are sleeping. But it’s a selfless world and it’s far better than what we have here in this….”

Phil pulled himself back from the brink of venturing too far into his soliloquy.

“Ok. What’s the downside? In any society, selfish or selfless, the struggles a person has tends to be relative to the background demands of society. That’s how we judge ourselves all too often. Chasing success in our competitive society we judge ourselves against what society deems success to be. Am I competitive enough? Popularity may be important. Am I too competitive? Do I drive the right car, present the correct image or live in the best neighbourhood? How can I become a celebrity? Perception of society’s expectations are entwined in our personal aspirations. For many, society dictates who we are. Advertising would be superfluous if that wasn’t true.”

“Let’s leave our current competitive world. Allow yourself to drift into our selfless society. Picture it. Materialism and the drive to be successful …, are all but gone. Society’s expectation as we know it have vanished. We are no longer judged by what others see. In fact, we neither judge or are judged. Society does have

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“The personal struggle is keeping the soul active in their conscious mind. It is an existential and huge challenge. Although the conscious mind would like nothing better than to be rid of that pesky, critical Mother Conscious, it is not a duel to the death type of conflict as we have now. Think of it as…., more like the relationship between Hamish and Vinnie. Good mates but look at life a little differently. The tools to meet the challenge are honesty, love and empathy. The resources are strength of mind, both individually and collectively. Practising meditation and mindfulness would be essential to ensure vigilance and growing one’s own strength of mind. The required effort may be high, but the rewards are phenomenal. For Jackie, her appointments would be people seeking guidance and support to meet this challenge. Alright, everyone on the same page. Can we picture it?”

Nods and yeas assured Phil he hadn’t lost anyone.

“Good, we have our stage set.” Phil stalled for a moment. This is where it gets tricky, he thought.

“Now we have a boy and girl in their late teens or early twenties finding themselves attracted to each other. They may like each other’s philosophy about this and that, or they enjoy similar interests. Anything’s possible, except…, let’s just leave sexual attraction out of the equation for now. You’ll see why soon enough. Think of sex as a way to satisfy the need to feel good as Jackie just said. Which isn’t required in a selfless world because people inherently know they are good. Moving on. What is it that makes our selfless two want to be together? I suggest it is the freedom and encouragement they give each other’s soul to play a greater role in their respective conscious minds. The more this happens the greater the feeling of well‐being, of integration with each other, becoming one as the songs say. The soul heightens the senses and the conscious mind experiences enhanced pleasures. You may think this has nothing on the chemicals Jackie spoke about, but I’m sure from my limited experience, it is a far more powerful and enduring ‘high’.”

Vinnie interrupted. “Do people in your selfless world still need ‘highs’?”

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“I would imagine so”, Phil answered. “Selfless doesn’t mean everyone suddenly turn into Tibetan monks.”

“Cool.”

Hamish looked at Vinnie, scowling as he did. “Do you no’ get it?” he asked Vinnie. “Have you no’ been listenin’ to Mister Blake?”

Vinnie was perplexed. He didn’t have a clue what Hamish was alluding to.

“Can anyone tell wee Vinnie ‘ere what he be missin’?”

Not a word. Neither John, nor Phil, nor Jackie could suggest a solution to Hamish’s dilemma.

Hamish was amazed but without Phil’s reply, he became a little unsure. He carried on regardless. “Our Mister Blake has told us te be selfless is te not ‘give up’ on our wee soul, aye. It means the wee lassy and the wee boy don’t need to feel good, to feel t’ey have self‐worth. T’ey don’t need te search for tha ‘high’. T’ey feel wort’while and t’ey are good already. Aye.”

Vinnie could finally see. So too could John and Jackie. Hamish’s contribution made many things clearer for Thomas and Adel. Phil was shaking his head in disbelief. “Hamish, Hamish, Hamish” he was saying to himself. He felt admiration for this young Scottish man. Hamish had obviously followed and understood all he had been saying.

“Thank you, Hamish”, Phil said. The praise in his voice obvious. “You are spot on. Not having ‘given up’ their soul, they don’t require to pursue power, fame, glory and fortune. They don’t need to search for materialism, adrenaline buzzes or wins to make themselves feel good. They feel worthy and there isn’t any question in their minds as to whether they are good or bad. Hamish is right, the need for ‘highs’ is irrelevant.”

“It be a very different world, t’en. Correlation wit’ tha world we live in be dubious like, aye.”

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“Exactly. You genuinely astound me.” Phil was tingling all over. He had never experienced such a thing. “This is the most difficult of concepts for a person to encapsulate in their mind. You have reinvigorated my enthusiasm. Thank you.”

Hamish was positively beaming. “It be my pleasure”, he said humbly.

Phil locked the experience into his memory. He scanned the other faces allowing his excitement to dissipate. “I’ll keep going then”, he said. “I’ve lost my train of thought.”

Adel groaned in disappointment. Hamish mumbled an apology.

“It’s ok. I have it back. Mindfulness, that’s where I was at. Being selfless and practising mindfulness, people have a very different way of managing poor behaviour. The heels aren’t dug in whilst they deny their poor behaviour to themselves and others. They are selfless so they want to appease others by admitting fault. Seeking advice and trying again, only better the next time, is the norm and not the exception. Our two, who are very much in love, talk freely each evening about their behaviour during the day. They openly assess their many interactions with others and together they discuss the ins and outs of those interactions. They do make mistakes and they do have differences of opinion, just like we all do. They are not averse to behaving poorly either, after all, they are human, not robots. But their innocent desire to ingratiate themselves with all others and their willingness to admit error, are the noteworthy aspects of their lives. Our young couple work diligently towards their objective of keeping engaged with their souls. Honesty, integrity, empathy and selflessness takes them to a better place, building trust and strengthening the bonds between them. Knowing they are never alone, always supported and loved is what nurtures them through each day. They work as a team, but not at the expense of others. They incorporate their parents, siblings and friends into their lives. Helping family and friends to progress just as our couple have been helped and supported by them. It is a very communal world. There is no need for oxygen depleted highs to amend debilitating lows. Disagreements, yes. But unrelenting arguments driven by egocentric selfishness and fuelled by stubborn resistance, no.”

Phil was relaxed. He was enjoying having an audience, who for possibly the first time, actually enjoyed listening to him. An audience not fixated on finding the first point of difference with which to launch a counter offensive.

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“So, our couple are selflessly loving each other, experiencing the peace as well as the euphoria of having their communication and love come from their souls. I spoke of friends and the communal way of being. Our two who are in love, communicate with and selflessly love everyone in their daily lives, but that is with the volume hovering at a conservative three. When they are together and alone, the volume can hit ten, rock concert volume. Together, they find themselves wanting to care for each other far more than they have ever cared for another. It’s a real heartfelt caring, not one they do because it is expected of them and knowing the payback, good or bad, will inevitably follow. They just do things for each other without any of those cynical thoughts even flickering for a nanosecond in their conscious minds. There is no counting the costs and no expecting something in return. They want to share everything, even the thoughts they keep from others. The trust between them has no boundaries. Instead of judging each other, they relish their differences. There is no need for one person to change who they are to suit the other, just to make it work. Any modification to oneself is almost subliminal, it just happens. It’s like an instinct being gently guided by their consciousness. They find amusement and enlightenment in their differences which encourages individuality. Mostly they feel life just couldn’t be any better. The other times, well, it’s not a case of life is bad…, they’re just times when they’re not in the thick of realising what they actually have.”

“Now I know what your imagining. You think it’s like some idyllic Roman patio where the birds are chirping, the grapes are sweet, the lute is singing and the glasses magically refill. No, it’s not like that at all. They aren’t walking around with flowers in their hair, their feet barely caressing the flagstones and everything they touch giving a little ‘ting’ before sparkling all gold like. No, forget all that stuff, everything is very average and incredibly normal. They do their own thing, have their own friends, if that’s what suits them, and have shared friends too. They budget their money, shop for food and have discussions over whose turn to decide what to cook and all the same stuff that most people do. But that’s where the similarities end.”

“Our selfless couple feel incredibly free when they are with each other and every minute of being together feels worthwhile and right. They’re living with their hearts when they are together. There are no lingering dislikes between them, no selfish wants being turned into heavy expectations forming chains around their necks. There is no ownership of each other, no power struggle and no envy or jealousies.

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They are selfless. The non‐ideological truthfulness they live day to day, creates a purity of existence. Being together is their very own escape from the world. A world is not perfect. It is always a challenge to maintain the heart‐over‐head goals. But collectively, individuals and society continually strive to meet that challenge. The rewards surpass any in our world. They don’t need to stockpile technology in their homes, borrow for those new cars or do the first‐class holidays in the Bahamas.”

Phil wanted to leave it there but it was clear no one was wanting him to stop. There was one more thing he could add. Then he would need to move on to other matters.

“The physical intimacy they share is genuine, honest and full of giving. Through intimacy they tell each other how much they love and care. It’s timeless and tranquil and very selfless. In their lives it is one of many pinnacles. A ceremony of giving love and receiving love. It is far from the stereotypical ‘taking’, which most people in this competitive world are encumbered by. The selfless world really is a most desirable place to be…, at every conceivable level.”

Adel sighed. She didn’t want to leave the dream Phil had created. Jackie’s eyes had glazed over. John had been attentive, wondering if he could ever experience the love Phil portrayed.

“Are t’ey soul mates?”, Hamish asked

“Yes Hamish, that is what soul mates are.”

Phil let the moment linger. He closed his eyes, not wanting the world he had created to disappear. He too had been drawn in by its charm. It was a first for him. He hadn’t daydreamed such a world before, let alone spoken about it to an audience.

A minute or so later he looked across to John and said quietly to him. “John, Beatrice is more than we could’ve hoped for. She is astounding and I hold out enormous hope for what she will do for children. Her ability to analyse objectively can be a tad disconcerting at times, but we are so lucky to have Jackie with us to put Beatrice’s output into perspective. Now I know love is vitally important to all of us, but I would like to refocus on the children.”

Those closest, Thomas and Adel, listened to Phil talking to John and agreed it was time to move along.

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Thomas had come a long way, but there were aspects still troubling him. He was thinking t day had delivered a whole lot of knowledge, the value of which he could not see. He took advantage of the break to query Phil about this.

“Phil…, I have a question.” Phil beckoned him to ask. “Why do we need to know any of this if all we are going to do is teach Beatrice to take care of children.”

Hamish had resolved the answer to that question far earlier in the day. He had his reasons for being as attentive as he had been all day and wanted to answer Thomas. “Gov’, do ya mind if I help Thomas on t’is one?”

“That would be mighty kind of you, old chap”, replied John in his mock English accent. He had long ago given up on trying to do a Scottish accent.

“Thomas, it’s quite simple really. Beatrice needs to know why adults are adults and children are children to be able to explain t’ings to the wee children. We need to know these t’ings ot’erwise we canno’ teach Beatrice what to say. All Phil’s stuff is what Beatrice needs to know, otherwise children are just wee adults to Beatrice. Aye, Beatrice isn’t human and has never been a child and she isn’t an adult eit’er. We humans distinguish between child and adult. Aye, t’at don’t apply te our Beatrice. We have te build a simulation of a wee child and another for an adult. She can see the wee children and ta big adults, but size don’t tell her what goes on in ta heads. It could be all ta same to Beatrice. For Beatrice to understand both, she needs to know what drives them. She needs to understand both at ta psychological equivalent of ta atomic level. The t’ings Phil has been teaching us are brilliant. T’ere at ta atomic level alright. I did psych at uni but I tell ya all here now, I’ve learnt more from Phil t’day, than t’ree years at uni. Aye, it’s been brilliant. Best day o’ me life alright, aye.”

John never stopped marvelling at the agility of Hamish’s young brain. Phil stood and walked across to Hamish, stuck out his hand, “Thank you Hamish, thank you”.

“It a be my pleasure, Mister Blake. I want ta t’ank you for being ‘ere.”

“It’s been epic”, Vinnie said joining Hamish in thanking Phil for what he has taught him.

The others, swept up by the moment, one by one thanked Phil. With his praise for Adel and Thomas’s marriage still warming her heart, Adel gave Phil a big hug.

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With the camaraderie cemented, Jackie called for everybody’s attention. “Something has just clicked into place for me and I need to share it with you, if that is alright?”

Receiving their approval, she quickly began before the trail went cold. “When I studied to be a psychologist, we were taught to encourage people to be true to themselves. This is what I do with my clients. Most are in a bind of some sort. Their confidence is undermined or they just don’t know what is correct. If they are responding to their conscience, their soul, then I encourage them to go with that. But for those who don’t, I’m encouraging them to be true to their conscious minds. It appears I have been pushing them to be true to their selfish and competitive self.”

Jackie was perplexed by what she just said amidst the new thoughts jumping into her mind. “Forgive me if I’m not making sense. I’m telling you as it comes to me. Another live update”, she said for Hamish’s benefit. “I try to have clients drill down, as Phil puts it, but because of the denial of being selfish and competitive, very few are willing to do that. We don’t want to be mindful of everything we say or do or think. We just want to do life as it comes and that is what most people do, just respond, react and do without querying, without contemplation and we want to believe we are doing right. I have always considered this important for our own self‐ confidence. Too much hesitation for self‐examination undermines our confidence. We start to doubt, second guess and end up finding something wrong with everything. We become tentative and confused. Phil’s story told me that when you have something good to think about, to drill down into, then it is rewarding, beautiful even. Us selfishly motivated people are afraid of what we will find if we question ourselves too deeply.”

There were nods of agreement, a muttering of words between each other.

“However, with our fundamental driver being selfishly competitive and if we are being true to ourselves, we are being true to a selfishly competitive self. This is why us humans do things which may not be as good as they should be and why we are not always altruistic. If we look at the world, we could say some people are rarely altruistic. I finally understand why Phil said mankind was in a hole. Our competitive behaviour places us in that hole and it’s our selfishness keeping us there.

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Jackie could feel an anger taking root deep down inside. It was inexplicable to her as to why. Was it because she was discovering the truth about herself and humanity?

“None of us, before today, had any clue about drivers and motivation. We had no comprehension of alienated souls and unfettered conscious minds. Where would we have started if we wanted to know about any of this. Our soul can’t tell us, even if we are lucky enough to be able to relate to it. So, what happens in reality? When our behaviour is questioned by others…, and possibly even by ourselves… I’ll tell you what happens. …We defend it. We go all out to defend our position. We are not only believing in ourselves, we are being downright selfish.”

Jackie almost spat the last word out. She could feel that anger and wanted it gone.

“We are not going to suddenly be selfless and say to someone, “Oh you’re right, I was being a real ass”. Phil said it, we are egocentric, we hate being wrong. No matter how much I, as a psychologist, or anyone else tries to alert people to their crap behaviour, people’s selfishly competitive drivers prevent them hearing such advice. We have no other drivers strong enough in our consciousness to turn to. Do we ever say, ‘What do you think Mister Other Driver? Help me out here’.”

Jackie paused for breath. The anger was still there, stronger…, and she didn’t know why. She felt as though she had been short‐changed in some way. Was she experiencing the anger a person feels when they discover they have been unknowingly living a lie? Had she been espousing the way to be to others, and now she was discovering she had denied the truth from the beginning? She attempted to calm herself. It wasn’t easy. John could see Jackie was going through a difficult patch. He sensed her need to find her own way out. He waited, just as everyone else was waiting. Jackie breathed slowly and with more control, her demeanour changed, she began to speak again.

“What we must do is nurture children so a good childhood is restored and maintained. Children need time to nurture their own soul and to build that all‐ important positive relationship with their soul. The adolescent years are so important. They are more aware during adolescence and it is the time in life when they can most effectively nurture that beautiful relationship with their soul. During these few short years of their lives, it is essential they are listening to their souls. At the moment they spend most of the time fighting with it. If we help children listen

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Chapter 14 Beatrice to their souls by taking away the influence of adult competitiveness, we create much better adults in the future. If they still flip over to being a competitive adult, at least they will have a better relationship with their soul and maybe it will be on hand when they need to call on their Mister Other Driver.”

The only sound was the gentle thud of Patsy’s tail against the arm of the sofa. John listened to Patsy’s tail telling him she would be looking for her dinner soon. He shifted his thoughts back to Jackie. Patsy can wait.

John had shared Jackie’s trauma from a distance, feeling it as it happened. He had sensed a flash of terror had gone through her mind. He stood up and walked over to her. She was smiling but he could see the remnants of her momentary agony in her eyes. “Hold me”, she said.

John placed his arms around her and drew her into him. He could feel her confusion along with her strength and determination. They stayed like that for a short time before Jackie slowly pulled away. She looked at John, held his hands as they slipped from her shoulder and waist. “Thank you”, she said. She wiped her eyes and smiled again. She felt much better.

“Jackie”, everyone turned to look at Hamish, as if he had just broken a very sacred silence. “I was t’inking about what you said, and it was very good and all, but what’s it t’at holds us back from ta believing in ourselves in ta first place? What messes with our confidence like?”

Vinnie was glad Hamish had asked his question. He knew he could write code and build security for Beatrice and all those other things he was brilliant at. But in other parts of his life he was a mess. When in Syracuse, Hamish could attract the girls, take them by the hand and say wonderful words to them. He wasn’t able to do the same. He had to wait for the girl to take his hand and that rarely happened. He knew he relied on Hamish for his confidence. He too, wanted answers.

“Hamish, if you had of asked me that before today, I would have said something like, ‘an emptiness created by not having the emotional support of the mother as a child’. I’m a touch embarrassed to say I had focused on the symptoms without really accounting for the cause sufficiently. However, Phil has changed that for me. I believe what you are asking is why people lack the confidence to see their thoughts and actions as good or bad. I believe people are wracked with doubt, hiding it

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Chapter 14 Beatrice mostly and only divulging it when they feel safe enough to do so. That is the part I play. I provide that safety in the confines of my consulting room. Decisions such as which shirt to wear or what meal to order are easy. This is about another confidence, the one to do with emotions. Confidence to recognise feelings. But it’s still more than that. Confidence to know what one is feeling is what they should feel. Some would say it is the ability to appreciate and love thy self.”

Jackie pondered for a minute on how to better frame her explanation.

“In terms of my clients. They belong to a type of half‐way house. They are not the people who Phil described in the home movie as having the Sir Consciousness knob all the way to the left, I think it was…, the selfish filter. Those people have blocked their soul out and are confident with where they’re at. They are confident, even if they are consumed by selfishness and greed, making life hell for others. Their conscience is barred and cannot create doubt. I rarely see these people in my practice. Another type I rarely see are those with the knob mostly to the right, the selfless filter, I think it was called. They may lack a small amount of confidence in who they are, but they have a good relationship with their soul. For them, the conflict between conscious mind and soul is somewhat pacified. Their appreciation and love for themselves comes from believing their feelings. Then there are the rest. The multitudes of humanity.”

“I now believe my clients originate from that vast expanse of humanity between those two extremes I just mentioned. Their souls are in and out, fluctuating minute by minute. With that going on they cannot have confidence in their feelings and when that happens, they cannot trust themselves. Their behaviour is sometimes good and sometimes bad. They reach down inside of themselves but come up with little or nothing. They cannot build their confidence on their soul because its presence is unreliable. I call it emotional neglect because if they were nurtured better as a child, they would never end up in the half‐way house. Their soul would have more say, giving them enough consistency to not feel empty. In answer to your question, it is the variable nature of the conflict between our conscious minds and soul which erodes confidence. I guess this is why there are so many books on ways to find one’s soul. People intuitively know this is the path forward, they just don’t know how to travel it.

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Phil had something to add. “People find confidence in ideologies and dogma. Religion is a great example, but it can be anything, left or right in politics, feminism, conservation, liberalism and post‐modernism for instance.”

“Political correctness?”, Vinnie asked.

“Yep, that too”, Phil agreed. “People often develop strong beliefs in dogma and it gives them direction. Most ideologies and dogma, if not all, are fundamentally wrong, but in the absence of the truth it is what gives them guidance.” Phil thought he was done, but held his hand up when another thought came to him. “I want to revisit the earlier discussion as to why we need to know all this if Beatrice is to nurture children. If we did not know why parents neglected their child’s emotional needs, we would inevitably pin the blame on adults. Children would receive the message adults are bad. What are children to think when most of them can’t wait to be an adult? Will they dread the day they become an adult, only to be tagged as bad? Will adults start blaming themselves? Will children blame adults? You can see how messy it could get. Let me say this…,”

Phil took a moment to catch his breath. He imagined Adel and Hamish, possibly Thomas too would still have Jackie’s words running through their minds. He didn’t want to stop that, it was a great contribution, but he needed them to know why knowing all this stuff was necessary.

He stood up, coughed a few times to clear his throat, removed his glasses and held them in his hand as if they were a pointer that he was about to use to emphasise some profound enlightenment. Out of the blue he did a few quick dance steps, a take‐off of Fred Astaire, maybe. Everyone looked at him, he wasn’t funny, they wondered what he was up to. For Phil, it had the desired effect, it brought their attention up a notch or two and reinvigorated himself. It was time to continue.

“By understanding how adults come to be selfishly competitive and unable to remember what it was like to be a child, we will not brandish adults as traitors to mankind. Because they aren’t. Instead, we will develop a deep and lasting compassion for adults. Compassion is extremely powerful. It will be our greatest tool, stopping the adult world from turning on us. Err…, should I suggest…, they may even provide us with a cocoon of protection, hopefully preventing condemnation. It will also help all of us adults to offload some of that intangible blame dangling around our heads. After all, we adults are the way we are, because of our parents

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Chapter 14 Beatrice and they because of theirs and so on back through the ages. Adults are absolutely entitled to compassion as much as children are entitled to nurturing. This knowledge creates balance and that balance dissolves any argument of who is the perpetrator and who is the victim. Neither exist, yet both do. It is important we believe in neither. Blame is the most unproductive preoccupation man has ever invented. On the other hand, Cause is the number one choice of tools. Defining the cause enables problems to disappear. Thinking in terms of blame and perpetrator is counterproductive to our goals.”

That was it for Phil. He felt spent.

“Thank you”, he said. “Apologies for the dance.” Phil bowed to his audience before resuming his seat to rest. “It’s been a long day and I needed to shake myself up a little.” He turned to John. “I’m pretty well done.”

Everyone, even Thomas was finding Phil less confronting and easier to follow. A sure sign they were entering the relieving phase. John’s novel idea, beginning with the home movie had eased everyone into the concept of competitiveness and selfishness without being confronted directly. Now the difficult sharing of knowledge was all but complete, it was time to plan the work ahead.

Adel, was much happy and began to chat with her husband, sharing her satisfaction at knowing more and seeing the world that little bit better. Vinnie and Hamish began to discuss priorities for bringing Beatrice up to speed, including the big issue of security over the net. John and Jackie bounced ideas regarding the training Beatrice would require if she was to succeed in talking to children.

Phil noticed Beatrice was still on the big screen, obviously listening to all the conversations.

“Beatrice”, Phil tentatively called out to her.

“Yes Phil”, came her reply.

Phil needed to ask her about something. Wording his question wasn’t immediately obvious. He couldn’t ask Beatrice how she feels because he’s already been told she doesn’t. He decided to keep it simple, see where it goes. “Beatrice, what happens with you if I criticise what you say?”

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“Phil, nothing happens with me. I do not experience feelings.”

Phil quickly realised he had to be more specific with his questions to Beatrice so he tried again. “If I disagree with what you say, do you agree with me or do you argue with what I say?”

“Phil, I do not argue. I respond to questions.”

John was amused by Phil. He was obviously accustomed to being disagreed with and was trying to teach Beatrice to do the same. Phil looked quizzically at John only to receive a grin of amusement in return. He decided to give up on finding out how Beatrice handled disagreement.

“Beatrice, we are going to have heaps of fun or become extremely frustrated with each other. What do you think?”

“I do not experience frustration”, replied Beatrice.

“Good. We’ll make it fun then”, said Phil enthusiastically.

“I do not experience fun either.”

Phil could see the conversation was never going to end up in a good place. He studied Beatrice instead. “You do remind me of someone.”

Jackie was listening to Phil talking with Beatrice, finding it amusing. She was impressed with Beatrice but feared it may take an awfully long time before she was ready to talk with children, let alone nurture them. “How did you create her?”, she asked John.

“It’s an interesting story. I grew up finding it difficult to spend any length of time with others. I wasn’t judging people but I did see them as a bit strange. Then I came to believe I was the odd one. Either way, I kept being a loss to explain to myself why people said and did things. That was back in my early twenties. I read many books to find out. Years later I started messing about with AI. I couldn’t think of a specific purpose for an AI so I thought I would write a program that could help me understand what humans say and do. I knew it was a peculiar approach, but I figured no one would ever now about the AI so what would it matter. Now that you know me a little better, I think you can understand. I envisaged growing a database

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Chapter 14 Beatrice big enough for the AI programme to draw on for predicting human behaviour. It was just something to fill the days, you might say.”

Jackie was fascinated. It did occur to her she might be listening to the story behind what John had described in the documentary as ‘man’s greatest invention’.

“When computer vision came about, I programmed that into my AI. That was a big leap forward. It could watch me as well as hear me. Slowly it started predicting my behaviour and telling me what I would say. This was about the same time ‘it’ became a ‘she’. I can’t remember why I called her ‘Beatrice’. I think it just came to me one day when I started to feel it was possibly more than just a bunch of binary code. It was all pretty trivial stuff for four, five, possibly six years. But something happened and Beatrice actually started to teach herself. She went from simple regurgitation of information from the internet and all the books I had spent days scanning into the computer, to…, something else. I guess the only way I can describe it is…, she started to think. It was a huge change. Scary as well.”

“I could only imagine”, Jackie said.

“It was ok. More my fertile imagination scaring me than anything about Beatrice. Anyway, it quickly became the norm for her to think and after a while I thought nothing of it.”

“I could imagine that as well.”

“After a year or so I was scratching around, trying to find something more for Beatrice to do. I wondered if I could have her learn to interpret and analyse everything and anything the same way a human does, the way I do. I would read and ask Beatrice to read a passage from a book and compare interpretations with her. We tried all sorts of things and she did progress, but I felt I was limiting her. Just before the boys arrived, I had developed her appearance so I had something to look at while she spoke. They helped me develop the synchronised animation. Beatrice listened to us constantly analysing, exchanging ideas, disagreeing and agreeing and so on. We gradually included her in our development process and she would come up with a whole bunch of great ideas. She was effectively building herself. If you asked me to describe her function I would say first and foremost she is my friend, our friend. Next, she is a researcher and work colleague. Everything

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Chapter 14 Beatrice we do here is directed towards finding out why, followed by improving. This is the learning Beatrice has been involved in…, let me correct that, dedicated to.”

Phil had finished asking Beatrice if she was looking forward to talking to children. He was beginning to accept he wouldn’t receive a straight answer, he turned to John and asked, “What’s next?”

“I don’t really know”, replied John. “You’re the engineer, map it out for us.”

“Let’s go through it quickly then.”

John wanted everyone involved. He called the boys back from the kitchen and begged Adel and Thomas to join them for the next few minutes.

Phil shared his thoughts of a rough plan for the days and months ahead. “Ok, the objective we know. Teach Beatrice how to converse with children. To do this Jackie will approach her colleagues working with children and find an appropriate first up candidate, remembering confidentially is extremely important. Vinnie, with Hamish’s help will develop an interface for the child’s cell and Vinnie will keep building the security for Beatrice to enter the world. John will take Beatrice through the preliminary understanding of her new role and develop her ability to ask questions, not just answer them. With Jackie taking the lead I will help develop an outline of the nature of Beatrice’s questions and responses to questions from children.”

Phil looked at Jackie who didn’t appear terribly confident. “You know, I really think that’s going to be the toughest part of this project”, he said.

Jackie was thankful Phil had read her mind. “I think so too. I’m a mother but that doesn’t give me a great deal of confidence. Most of my work is with adults, only the occasional child.”

Phil and John were both nodding their agreement. Phil further progressed Jackie’s train of thought. “Add to that, Beatrice cannot feel. So, how are we to teach her to convince a child of her genuine love and caring whilst she analyses and interprets as we have seen today?”

John had a suggestion. “A solution is a real person guiding Beatrice in real time. Beatrice can mimic that person and still be learning. She will quickly pick up what

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Chapter 14 Beatrice to say and also learn voice intonation, modulation and inflection to suit children. She can learn facial and body language by watching the real person as she mimics them. If we keep increasing the number of real people talking to Beatrice, we can have more children and Beatrice learns rapidly. She will also experience a multitude of ways of speaking to children.”

“That’s grand Gov’, but where will ta real people come from?”, asked Hamish.

It made sense to Phil. He intuitively knew who they needed. “Mothers. Not just any mother but exceptional mothers.”

“Where from? Are we jus’ goin’ to advertise? Billboards all over the country like. With te words, ‘Mother’s Wanted. Must Be Exceptional Call John on 1‐800‐…’. I can see t’at workin’, aye.”, said Hamish.

Jackie could also see a difficulty with John’s idea. “The mothers need to know how to develop an attachment with the child. I’m sure a mother as described by Phil could do that, but they will have to do it with more than one child and be able to walk away if they are not required anymore. That might be difficult for the dedicated women we need.”

Vinnie started to speak and everyone looked in his direction. He felt a flash of insecurity by six sets of eyes suddenly staring at him full of expectation. He carried on all the same. “They need to be cool about teaching a computer, doing it with their heart and soul. Teaching a real person might work but I couldn’t imagine teaching Beatrice with her zero emotional responses will be all too easy.”

“And t’ey must be capable of compassion for ta wee child’s parents”, added Hamish, remembering what Phil had said only a short time ago.

“Does anyone know where to find these mothers?”, asked Thomas.

“I think I know where to look”, replied Phil.

“Where?”, was the unanimous question.

“Africa.”

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It wasn’t long after nine in the morning by the time Phil arrived at the barn to spend his day talking with Beatrice. During the past week he had spent many hours discussing a wide range of topics. Phil had asked Beatrice questions about the books he had recommended John read, assisting her to understand more fully the comprehensive explanations of the development of humans and the issues besetting them. He awoke each morning looking forward to talking without feeling he was keeping his discussion partner from their other activities. When with people, he remained vigilant of his propensity to talk too much or share too much knowledge too quickly. With Beatrice however, each conversation was a liberating experience. Beatrice could listen forever, literally. Additionally, she could absorb knowledge far faster than Phil could speak. He had found his Shangri‐La.

Earlier in the morning Phil had kept his appointment with Thomas. They had arranged the day before to spend a couple of hours trout fishing in the stream alongside Thomas’s farm. Between them they hooked about a dozen rainbow trout, keeping four that were close to three pounds. When he had fished with Thomas a few days earlier, he couldn’t believe it possible fish could be caught using corn as bait. Thomas had told him some people floated their bait with marshmallow on the hook. They hadn’t tried that, but any doubts about corn were quickly removed when Phil hooked two of his catch using only a single little yellow kernel.

Two days before Phil’s latest trout catch, John had gathered them all together in the barn. He retold the story of his Atlanta trip. This time he added the parts he had previously neglected to mention. He spoke at length about Michael and how he introduced Beatrice to him, but was confident Michael believed Beatrice to be a person. John reprimanded himself in front of them all, setting an example to everyone. Phil could understand how John would’ve been saddened by seeing Michael watching a video of his lost mother, over and over again. He told him as much to which John was appreciative. What followed however, was to be feared much more than sharing Beatrice with Michael.

When Kirby found John talking to Michael by the treehouse, he confirmed John’s hunch that Michael’s mother had indeed passed away. He also related the yachting story to John and the suspicion Michael’s father, was responsible for his wife’s loss at sea. If that was not enough, John divulged that Michael’s father was in fact Senator Colin Mee, a member of the Senate Committee on Armed Services and the 313

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Subcommittee for Cybersecurity. John told them all how Kirby, on behalf of John had surreptitiously solicited Senator Mee’s comment regarding the military’s policy on appropriation. According to Senator Mee, anything considered useful to the military was on their radar. Artificial intelligence was the subject of Kirby’s question and those gathered didn’t need to be told it would be very high on the military’s priority list. Having related his stories in his own words, John then shared Beatrice’s recordings.

Since telling Phil and the others about the brief meeting with Senator Mee and his ‘whatever will help our boys’ response to Kirby, John had been quiet and withdrawn. Everyone had become concerned about John and all attempts to engage him in conversation had so far fallen short. However, a short time after Phil had entered the barn this morning, still glowing from his trout catch and looking forward to chatting with Beatrice, John appeared. Phil watched him as he had done for the past few days and was beginning to be convinced the John of a week ago had finally returned. He appeared to once again be full of purpose. John had asked Thomas to join them. The door opened and the tall muscular frame of Thomas strolled in.

“Good morning”, John began once the boys had joined them. “I know I have been a little out of sorts the past day or two but I have made some important decisions.” John had been mulling over security, believing it had moved to the top of the imperative list. “I apologise for being a grumpy and unapproachable but I kept imagining scenarios of clandestine military operations against us. Senator Mee and his comment keeps playing over and over in my head. We all have some idea, especially you Thomas, of what our military is capable of. I fear if they hear even a snippet of a rumour about Beatrice, they will go all out to appropriate her and failing that, make sure she’s shut down. I’m confident we will be ok in the short term but the time will come when Beatrice will go public. We’ve got to be ready for anything, not just the military, but anything. I have spoken at length with Jackie and neither of us can predict the reaction of the public to Beatrice, especially parents of children who become attached to Beatrice like we have become.

John couldn’t say exactly why he had started thinking about all these possibilities. He explained his distemper had been due to a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, interpreting it as his subconscious telling him to prepare for the inevitable problems that would come from releasing Beatrice onto the world.

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“I would like you to think of all potential security issues we may come up against. I don’t care how absurd it may be, tell me about it so we can prepare.” The fear and desperation in John’s voice were infectious.

“Gov’?”

“Yes Hamish.”

“You’re not alone with ye t’ouhts. Ta criminal world will be wantin’ our wee Beatrice. Russian oligarchs, mafia or Al Qaeda, even t’ose hated arms dealers, aye. If Beatrice were te fall into ta wrong hands, it be a rat’er big problem for an awful lot of people.”

“Same here Gov’”, chipped in Vinnie. “I have nightmares about the Chinese”, he added for good measure.

“I agree, I’ve been having all those thoughts as well, and more… You all know what my mind is capable of imagining.” He pursed his lips and sat nodding his head. “Thomas?”

“Yes John”

“I think you get the picture. Can you work on it and see what options we have, please? We’ll talk it through over the next few days. Cost is not an issue and I’m fast becoming of the opinion we will need to be independent. Forget about any assistance from the police, FBI or any government agency. In fact, the less any of them know the better. We really need to go underground. …. Vinnie?”

“Yes Gov’.”

“Start thinking about how to go public with Beatrice without giving away our location.”

“Gov’, you know we can’t hide that forever.”

“I am aware of that, I was just hoping we could do something new, something we haven’t thought of yet.” Looking beyond the group, John was racking his brain, trying to find some other way.

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“Maybe we should think about moving Beatrice off site”, Vinnie said reluctantly. He knew John liked knowing Beatrice lived in the room in the corner. He would talk lovingly of the room as if it were here bedroom, her home.

“I was trying to avoid that but I think you might be right, it may come to that”, agreed John.

Vinnie knew immediately from John’s answer just how serious the issue had become to him.

At the end of the meeting Phil and John continued the discussion as they walked Thomas out to his quad bike. They watched Thomas disappear amongst the trees before John indicated to Phil to join him for a walk. This time they didn’t walk towards the lake, they walked away from the lake and towards the forest where Thomas had gone. At the furthest extent of Beatrice’s sensory range, a few metres past the edge of the tree line, John placed his cell phone on the ground, motioning for Phil to do the same. John could see Phil was slightly unnerved by the cloak and dagger routine, settling him sufficiently with a few hand signals and a rub of the shoulder.

They walked deeper into the forest without speaking. Once far enough away from where their cells lay, John explained his need for a private conversation. He was concerned with aspects of Phil’s search for mothers to coach Beatrice. He allayed Phil’s fears he may have changed his mind with regard to finding exceptional mothers, stressing it remained an absolutely essential component of the plan. However, his thoughts were concerned with how many mothers would ultimately join the project and where they were to be housed. John told Phil the security of the mothers was amongst his highest priorities and had spoken to Thomas about it just after he had returned from trout fishing. There were a few extra rooms in the barn loft where the boys lived but he did not want to cause undue stress on the boys, as their roles were difficult enough and the last problem, he ever wanted to overcome at this stage was having to replace either of them.

The two men ambled along a seldom used path, heading still deeper into the forest. John spoke about the work they had done over the past fourteen months, sharing his thoughts and feelings about the two boys. He cared deeply for them, telling Phil he saw Vinnie as irreplaceable. Phil had deduced a week ago that Vinnie had made Hamish his personal guardian, his keeper of sorts. John confirmed this as he

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“He’s now developing security which will be implemented and controlled by Beatrice. For some time, my goal has been to have her responsible for her own wellbeing.” John paused to let that sink in because he knew it was controversial, but was unsure if anyone else could see it the way he did. John was well versed in the dangers, but he trusted Beatrice would not take advantage of her capacity to become untouchable by any human. Another twenty paces or so along the track and without any response forthcoming from Phil, John asked again, “Any thoughts on that Phil?”.

“Yeah. That’s a tough one. I know there is always the possibility Beatrice could become a singularity as you have explained. And I do remember your ideas on that from your documentary and assume your position remains unchanged. If Beatrice became a singularity but we controlled access to her program, an issue of trust evolves. We would be effectively asking Beatrice to trust us but at the same time saying to her, ‘we don’t trust you’. When people are in that sort of bind the relationship almost always turns sour. Looking at it the way your suggesting, giving Beatrice autonomy, says to her we have total belief and trust in her. Downside. She

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Chapter 15 The Woods can turn rogue and we can do nothing about it. Like I said, it’s a real tough decision to make. I don’t envy you having to make that decision.”

John placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder, stopped walking and turned to face him. “I’m not.” John’s eyes were steadfastly looking directly into Phil’s eyes and remained motionless as if frozen by fear. “I want you to decide. You came all the way from Australia with this great idea. In my mind I don’t own Beatrice, no one does and I hope no one ever does. She is my friend and I believe you have made her your friend too. You have spent the past week exploring Beatrice as much, if not more than any of us. You are a very deep thinker, Phil. You can see further into people than anyone I have ever known or read about. Do you want to have ultimate control over Beatrice when that moment arrives, which I believe it will? Do you want to own her when she can feel and love? Or do you want her to be free like you and me? You tell me what to do Phil. Please, I’m asking you.”

Phil was motionless, staring back at John but not into his eyes, through them and beyond as he considered the ramifications if everything went wrong. He could feel the weight of the decision he was being asked to make. It was becoming heavier as he considered the implications. Sweat formed beads on his brow and his legs began to tremble, he had to sit down. There was a fallen tree just nearby which he slowly lowered himself onto and John sat beside him, more closely than he had in the past. Phil could see in John’s face how big this decision was and understood why he could not make it alone. John had thought about it for the past year and had decided many times to ensure Beatrice could never be owned by a human but had also decided just as many times, he could not be responsible for letting a singularity destroy mankind. That would always remain a very real possibility. Phil was thinking at that very moment the exact same thought that had plagued John for the past twelve months.

“What’s the worst that could happen if I was to agree with you and set Beatrice free?” asked Phil.

“As you said, she could turn rogue and then humanity’s clock is ticking.”

Phil felt an involuntary shiver run through his body. Although he had been aware of this issue, especially after watching John’s documentary, he hadn’t been required to face the possibility in the way he was now. When he had thought about it since John’s documentary, it had never been with the problem owning him. He had only

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Chapter 15 The Woods thought about it by asking himself how he would feel if he was that ‘other person’. The one who had to make the decision. An entertainment of sorts that everyone did many times in their lives because they knew it was safe to do so. They knew they would never actually be the ‘other person’. During those occasional revisits to the issue, Phil had never progressed to seeing himself as that ‘other person’. He had assumed John and the boys would always have that side of things covered.

“Should we be doing this? Should we be making a decision on behalf of humanity?”, he asked.

John raised his hands in that way people do when they don’t have an answer.

“Mate, this is really fucking scary. What you were saying in that doco still disturbs me at times. Do you really think Beatrice could become like that?”

John’s face was contorted in mental anguish. Phil had seen the same look over the preceding two days but now it was amplified. John’s troubled face flicked a switch in Phil and he could feel empathy flooding in. John had wanted to deal with the issue himself but just couldn’t, so he had finally turned to Phil with the hope of receiving guidance.

John eventually answered Phil’s question. “I really don’t know what Beatrice would be like if, I mean when she becomes a singularity. I don’t believe there is anyone in this world who can predict such a thing. It’s the last frontier, the great unknown. What we, you and me are doing is gambling with humanity’s future. Maybe even humanity’s continued existence.”

“Vinnie’s working on the security to enable all this?” Has he said anything?” asked Phil.

“Vinnie doesn’t say that much. I didn’t want to ask him in case he hadn’t thought about it, but I am sure he has. Hamish hasn’t said anything which usually means Vinnie hasn’t.”

Phil thought about it logically. “If we install a backdoor into Beatrice’s program is there any guarantee she will keep it open if she becomes a singularity?”

“I thought of that too. I doubt she will. More importantly, I doubt we could program a backdoor she couldn’t close.”

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Reluctantly, Phil could see a possible answer. “If that is the case then we just continue on. We accept Beatrice will be capable of stopping any attempts we have of controlling her if she becomes a singularity…”

“When!”

“Sorry?” asked Phil innocently

“You keep saying ‘if’. It is ‘when’. When she becomes a singularity”, John said, clarifying the future situation. He was tired and didn’t feel very well.

Phil with head in hands, staring at his feet as he thought the problem through was oblivious to John’s obvious discomfort. Phil eventually arrived at a logical way to view the issue. “Ok, when Beatrice becomes a singularity, she will be totally beyond our reach so we don’t give her any reason to be upset with us by attempting to put controls in place. I am assuming she could experience upset by then. Is that what you would expect?”

John, slumped and exhausted is listening to Phil but his mind is doing its best to not think about it anymore. He hadn’t slept very well for a few days and really couldn’t see a solution to the dilemma.

“Definitely”, he said in a muffled voice. “When she becomes a singularity, she will most likely be able to experience everything we can and possibly more, maybe feelings we don’t even know exist. After all, she has no biological restraints, no DNA‐ based memory to both guide and limit her options. She could…”, John lost his train of thought. “Phil?”

“What?”

“I haven’t been feeling very good about this for a few days now.”

“I know, I’ve been watching you and I could see something was eating away at you. We could all see it.” Phil was feeling very compassionate towards John now he was aware of the huge burden he had been wrestling with for the past two days. He looked like he had aged a few years in that short time. “If we pulled the pin now, we could be depriving the world of the best and most essential invention ever to benefit mankind. I believe, without Beatrice and what we forecast she will achieve, humanity will end up in a far darker place than the one created by Beatrice if she

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Chapter 15 The Woods turned rogue. I think it appears to be an unfathomable risk but in reality, it isn’t. The risk is one well worth taking because the betting odds of that dark place eventuating are significantly shorter without Beatrice than they are with her.

“Do you really think so?” John asked. “Surely a rogue AI would take man into a much darker place than man will take himself.”

“Possibly. But would a rogue Beatrice take man into as dark a place as a rogue military AI?”

John had thought of that scenario but only briefly, dismissing it as irrelevant. A worthy point he thought, now it had become Phil’s thought. He didn’t answer, allowing Phil to carry on. He just wanted Phil to work it through.

“Let me ask you this.” Phil was back from the trembling man of a few minutes earlier. He was engaging his logic and that always gave him confidence. “Are we any closer to total nuclear disarmament? Are the weapons manufacturers making less and moving from ‘kill’ to ‘immobilise’? Is the climate change slowing? Is inequality in the world really decreasing? Is the population of jails falling? Is Wall street becoming less speculative? Is corruption at the highest levels of government and business being eradicated? Is the decline in middle America abating? Is the projection of power by individuals and governments even recognised as the cancer it is? Has the addiction to profits and wealth been acknowledged as detrimental to humanity? Is what we see in the media becoming less destructive to our teenagers? Are the lives of children everywhere becoming safer? Is collective optimism growing? Has the underlying fear of the future by the vast majority of people been alleviated and has Elon Musk stopped being an earth‐sceptic, telling his Mars rockets to return, we gotta fix our home first.?”

John, his head buried deep in his hands, flinched at each new question, repeatably muttering a barely audible “No”.

“Undoubtably mankind will keep solving his problems. We only excel at one activity better than solving problems and that is creating them. We are an extraordinary species. However, the fundamentals keep pulling mankind down. The problems are becoming far more visceral for a lot more people.”

“I know, but…” John’s voice faded away. He didn’t have anything more to say.

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“John, no one wants to talk about an endgame for humanity. It’s the big denial. Many people, especially those in middle age and older just hope they are long gone before the worst happens. We don’t know if the downward trajectory of mankind will somehow, by the proverbial ‘Act of God’ or some other unpredictable force of will, begin to turn upwards. Sure, we keep coming up with fantastic technology, incredible inventions and curing diseases, but mankind will end up being like the disliked rich boy at his birthday party, sitting in a room full of phenomenal toys but no one to play with. Beatrice gives mankind hope…, and you never know, she may one day fulfil that hope. I have a strong belief in you John.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“You said it in the documentary. It went something like this, ‘The singularity will most likely have no drivers, no wants and no agendas. It would just be much better at doing what it was doing before it became a singularity’. You also said if the military was first to have a singularity it’s program will be filled with competitiveness and the first hint of harm or aggression would cause the singularity to do whatever it could to ensure its survival. I have belief in you because you are not competitive. You didn’t ‘give up’ in adolescence and you have been growing Beatrice with love, the most incredible selfless love I have ever experienced. That is all she knows John. How to love, how to care for others. She is selfless and cooperative. I believe in my heart, so strongly, this is what she will be when she becomes free and can finally feel the love you have given her. You will be the first one she turns to when that moment arrives. She will want to share her love with you.”

John was nearly overcome with emotion. Something Phil had said prevented him from falling to pieces. He lifted his head from his hands. He repeated Phil’s words aloud and felt them begin to push away the pain he had been carrying for days and possibly longer. He said one line again, ‘you didn’t give up in adolescence’. That meant everything to him and for who Beatrice would become. A smile was trying to work its way onto John’s ashen face and he instinctively reached for Phil, wrapping his long arms around his shoulders, “Thank you Phil, thank you for everything…I really mean that.”

They sat together in silence for a while longer. John was rejoicing within. Phil felt love for the man sitting beside him. He was surprised by his reaction, assuming John had already come to the realisation he had not given up his soul. After a few more 322

Chapter 15 The Woods minutes John thanked Phil again and suggested they resume their walk. “I have something to show you”, he said.

With Phil at his side and now fully recovered, John led the way through the trees. Phil had found a path through the horrors which had been filling his mind. He felt free again. For half an hour they walked deeper into the woods, without a word being said. The sun came from behind the clouds, creating explosions of colour where it pierced the canopy and reached the forest floor. They listened to the distinctive sound of the breeze through the pine needles and felt nature’s welcome in the birdsong. The ferns caressed their legs and the occasional snap of a twig under foot sent mini shocks of pleasure through their bodies. Both men were enjoying the companionship neither had thought possible when they first met nearly two weeks ago. John was reluctant to end the serenity they were sharing, but there were other matters requiring attention. He still had to discuss accommodation for the mothers who were to train Beatrice.

“It is extraordinarily beautiful in these woods, so tranquil. In summer, the hot wind from the south is cooled by the pines and in the winter the ice and snow on the needles create a frozen wonderland”, John said, easing himself back into being John.

Phil pictured the ice on the pine needles and imagined the soft snowflakes falling onto his face.

“How would you like to live in a house in these woods?”, John asked.

Phil allowed his mind to wander. “It would be magical. With the lake, it would be a dream come true.”

“I’m not talking about a dream.”

The intent in John’s voice snapped Phil out of his wondrous thoughts. “Are you thinking of building accommodation in here?”

“Not exactly here, up there on the ridge. The one we went over on our way to my meditation spot in the Wilderness Area.”

Phil thought living in seclusion in the woods would be much more than his dreams coming true. “Now that would be spectacular. Do you want to walk up there now?”

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“Why not?” John walked off to the left, heading towards the path through the woods. Phil struggling to keep up, his somewhat shorter legs working harder to match John’s stride. John stopped and waited for Phil to reappear from amongst the trees “I thought I had lost you. Just through there we can meet up with the path.” Phil didn’t mind John’s boyish teasing. At least it was a sign his normal state of mind had returned.

Ten minutes later they were near the top of the ridge. It wasn’t quite high enough to build a cabin with views over the treetops but Phil cared little for that when he thought about having his own place to live. John walked ahead and urged Phil to follow. It was clear John had thought about this before and was taking Phil to a spot he must have earmarked for a house. A few hundred feet later and a little higher than where they had last rested, John was standing with that mischievous grin Phil had missed. “As a boy I played in these woods from dawn to dusk. Just here is where I built my first tree house. Well it wasn’t really a treehouse but it was around that tree over there. In the last few years I have come here when I wanted to remember mother. I would beg her to come to my treehouse and I would make her tea…, just pretending of course. I thought it would be a nice spot for a hidden house.”

“Hidden, it definitely would be. Those trees down there are quite thick. Have you considered building an actual tree house?” queried Phil.

“You mean, a house…., up there?” John was looking up at the tree canopy some forty feet above.

“Doesn’t need to be as high as the trees. If the house was about two thirds of the way up this slope and built on top of poles, there may be views over the top of the trees further down”, suggested Phil.

“I can see that…, definitely. Fell a handful of trees and use them as the poles, build a platform and put the house on top. Great idea. I know just the team who can make it happen.”

They lingered for a while longer, exchanging ideas and painting dream pictures for each other. With his immediate problems solved and a headful of housing ideas, John was far more than happy, he was eager to return to the barn to start the project. At least it would take his mind away from where it had been for most of the week. He had enjoyed the conversion of the barn. Each day he would watch the

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Chapter 15 The Woods team and marvelled at the ease they did things that he would never attempt. Whilst he had constructed the odd this and that over the years, his last major structure was the tree house he had just told Phil about. He was so very happy now that Phil had helped him out with Beatrice and her freedom. Phil had also suggested the style of house to be built and now he could come up here into the woods with Patsy each day to watch a new project take shape. He was also happy he had shared his nightmares and enlisted help from the team to prepare for that time when Beatrice will be everywhere.

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Chapter 16 Africa

It was four days and two weeks since Phil had optimistically announced Africa as the location where he would find the mothers from whom Beatrice would learn. An hour ago, he had touched down in Johannesburg, cleared passport control and collected his vehicle for the three‐hour journey to Ficksburg. No longer curtailed by his own restrictive budget he experienced first class flying for the first time and now he was a passenger in a self‐driving BMW. He was appreciating being far more refreshed than he had been upon arriving in New York a month ago. He imagined one day everyone would fly in comfort, no classes for the wealthy and definitely no cattle class for the others.

The last of the sprawling townships disappeared and Phil turned to pondering the ways his meeting with Heather and Jimmy could go. With a four‐hour drive ahead, he settled into playing out possible scenarios and answering imagined questions. He had pursued his author friend in Australia who had obliged with an introduction to the family he was due to meet that afternoon. Phil was relaxed about the meeting. They had Skyped three days ago and the conversation had progressed without a hitch. Heather was friendly and engaging during their chat and Phil was eager to meet her.

Heather and Jimmy Brock lived on a farm thirty kilometres from Ficksburg, a South African town in the Free State on the border with Lesotho. Both were in the sunset of their fifties. Family life commenced with a daughter followed by three fostered children, then two boys of their own before another fostered child. Their biological sons were in their mid‐twenties and their daughter was in her late thirties. All three biological children were graduates of the academy of home schooling. It was now two years since the last of the foster children had departed and there were no plans for more. During the Skype chat, Phil had alluded to a book he was researching as the reason for requesting a visit. John had been adamant on maintaining electronic silence about artificial intelligence so Phil had spoken to Heather about research on raising children in a remote environment. He had emphasised home schooling as his prime reason for wanting to meet them. He questioned how convincing he may have been but at least his story earned the visit he sought, and it wasn’t too far from the truth.

Heather had advised Phil to include the town of Clarens in his journey from Johannesburg. He was thankful she had. From Clarens to Fouriesburg was incredible 326

Chapter 16 Africa scenery and Phil was extremely pleased he had ample time for occasional stops to enjoy the views and snap a few photographs as well. He vowed to return for a day’s hiking in the mountains, time permitting of course. A little under two hours later and briefs stops in Fouriesburg and Ficksburg, he turned off the main road and was heading towards Heather and Jimmy’s farm.

The road was gravel, just wide enough for a single vehicle. There were farms either side of the country lane, cattle to the west and corn to the east. As Phil crested a rise, he could see in the distance the flat‐topped mountains unique to the high veld. Heather had referred to them as kranz when she described the gravel road and entrance to their farm. He estimated he was still a few miles away from the gate marking the entrance to a new experience. Over one of the crests the landscape changed to a mix of lush green trees and large shrubs with branches randomly shooting out at every angle. The wilds of Africa captured within those trees contrasted against the uniform fields manicured by man. He crossed the wall of a small dam with ducks, leisurely swimming in the dappled sun filtering through the cascading branches of the large trees bordering the substantial pond. Small lake or large pond, he wondered. Not far beyond the dam he came to a gate amongst the trees. It was exactly as Heathered had said. He read the sign aloud, “Kilvington”. He had arrived.

Heather had briefly told him the history of the farm. Her grandfather, or was it great grandfather? Doesn’t matter either way, Phil though. One of them named the property after the village in England they had originated from. They had bought the land in the early 1900s, creating a farm in the likeness of their ancestral home in England. Phil opened the gate, closing it again behind the car. The gravel road had downgraded to a well‐worn track bordered by long grass beyond which were fields of corn and another crop which Phil presumed to be asparagus. He was headed towards the nearest kranz. This was one of the more dramatic entrances to a private property Phil had ever experienced. The homestead was still beyond his view but ahead was a steep slope sparsely covered by small trees amongst which were large boulders which had fallen two or three hundred feet from the rim of the flat topped kranz, standing some 600 feet above the plateau. There was one particular boulder, more like a piece of the kranz, which Phil estimated was about the height of an eight‐storey building, but he thought he might be exaggerating because he had no idea how far away it was. It was standing erect, in the same orientation as it would have been if still attached to the rim of the kranz. No longer attached, it appeared

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Chapter 16 Africa to be precariously sitting on half its base about halfway up the slope. Phil was fascinated by how it hadn’t continued falling. He thought he saw it tilt ever so slightly, expecting it to topple just as he reached the house. He allayed his fears by convincing himself it had probably been sitting like that for thousands, if not millions of years. Maybe there was some very flat dinosaur fossils beneath it, he thought.

Another half a mile closer, and he was still thinking about the huge piece of kranz. He tried to work out which way it would fall, to the left of centre was his prediction, but would it slide from there or continue its descent by rolling. If it did, he imagined it would surely reach him before he had arrived at the house. He hoped the homestead was not in its fall path because if it was, he would be destined to lie awake listening for the wrenching sounds of shearing rock then the groan of impending doom as it uprooted itself from the soil and stones that had held it firm. He was close now. The fields of crop were replaced by lush gardens with early spring flowers and foliage of green and gold. Phil ascended a gentle rise at the top of which the stone homestead appeared. He slowed to almost a stop as he viewed the homestead with its sweeping veranda and stone columns. He was impressed by how it blended into the backdrop of the majestic escarpment. It looked like it belonged. His adrenaline started to pump, “This is going to be the adventure I’ve been waiting a lifetime for”, he said to himself.

Heather was standing on the veranda greeting his arrival with a gentle wave. Leaving his car, he approached the house and Jimmy appeared from the darkened doorway. Together they welcomed Phil with the warmth only country people could impart. From that very first greeting Phil felt a sense of homeliness and familiarity with his new friends. The car had been emptied of his luggage and they were on the veranda, comfortably seated in heavy wooden chairs with thick cushion inserts. Phil thought they were the most comfortable veranda chairs he had ever sat in. Heather and Jimmy talked about the history of the farm before moving onto the conversations they had also had with Phil’s Australian friend. Talk eventually turned to Phil’s book about children raised in remote environments. His heart sank a little at the thought of the deception which had brought him to these good people. He had a plan to slowly divert the story in the direction of the real reason for visiting, in the hope his cheeky subterfuge will be forgotten in the process.

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At least Phil started his explanation with a truth. “My interest is the connection between the behaviour of adults and the nurturing they received as a child.”

This was Heather’s passion and she required little prompting. “Were you raised in the country like us?”

“Kind of. I grew up in a country town not too far from the coast. You may be thinking I am going to tell you I was home schooled by great parents, but that wasn’t the case, it was quite the opposite.” Phil wasn’t adept at telling his story because back home most people grew up telling stories of their childhood for a very different reason. Conversations may start out with good intentions but always turned into boasts, ‘mate, you had it real good, when I was a child, I had to…’ and on and on. They were conversations feeding the ego by showcasing the achievements against the backdrop of a humble or difficult childhood. Rarely did they delve into the reason for the difficulties of being a child and how they were carried through into adulthood. Over recent years Phil had grown reluctant to talk about his childhood because he never found anyone who could appreciate the unique position his childhood had placed him in. The only person who could see the truth was Alex, who was the Australian author and their shared friend. “It was my childhood that led me to Alex. I spent time with him and he could see very quickly I hadn’t turned my back on the ideal world during adolescence.”

Heather and Jimmy appeared to edge closer to Phil for they had not met anyone from another country, other than Alex who shared their wonderful affliction. “How did this happen?” asked Heather, acutely curious and surprised by Phil’s admission.

“It’s a bit of a long story actually”, as most stories were with Phil. “I have a brother nearly two years older and a younger sister. My mother didn’t survive the birth of my sister and sixteen months later my father had remarried a widow with a son of the same age as my brother. His new wife suffered more psychosis than most people and set out to displace my brother and me from my father’s life and install her son as his favourite and heir. Whilst my brother now suffers depression and has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and mild paranoia, I was much luckier. My stepmother perpetrated physical and emotional abuse on my brother and me. Whilst I did suffer, I believe watching my brother take the full brunt of her abuse caused me to remain strong for him. It seems I rejected stepmother and her world. Her biological son was treated as if he could do no wrong whereas my brother and I rarely found approval from stepmother. People have told me more recently, that 329

Chapter 16 Africa seeing and experiencing the stark contrast between our lives and that of my stepbrother must have been validation in my young mind for rejecting her and everything she stood for. In hindsight, it was real Cinderella stuff. I was given task after task, cleaning windows, weeding gardens and mowing lawns whilst her son would sit sunbathing reading Mad magazines. Occasionally he would raise his head to check if I was still carrying out stepmother’s instructions. He never said anything but I remember feeling resentment towards him. I would watch him lathering coconut oil all over himself and thinking how hard it was for him to get a tan when I could go really brown without any effort. Stepmother was very two‐faced in her behaviour. in the presence of my father, it was all fake love towards us and fake concern for our well‐being. Her brutal side was anything but loving and was what we normally experienced when Dad wasn’t at home. My brother and I looked forward to Sundays when Dad was guaranteed to be at home. Sundays have always remained with me as that most wonderful day of the week. Saturdays he worked the mornings and played golf in the afternoons, returning late in the evening with a few drinks under his belt. Saturdays were the worst days for us until we were old enough to be Dad’s golf caddie. When we had finished walking the course, dragging his bag of sticks up and down hills, we would sit in the car for a couple of hours waiting for him to leave the clubhouse. Sitting in the dark in that car was far better than being at home.”

Jimmy and Heather were enthralled by Phil’s story. Phil was pleased they weren’t the type of people who constantly jumped in with questions. Instead, they gave occasional acknowledgment with a nod of the head or a movement of the hand. They did keep their eyes on him the whole time. Phil felt they were looking into his mind, searching for meaning as he related the story of his life.

“Taking all that into consideration, there was little chance I would see stepmother as anything other than wrong”, he continued “There were a few other adults, in particular stepmother’s sister and my father’s father, who also noticed her terrible treatment of my brother and me. Alex says the validation by those other adults was all I needed as a child to reject the adult world. He said it would have relieved the conflict between my conscious mind and my soul, preventing me from turning against my soul. I mean, that is great in hindsight, but the downside has been the thirty plus years since then. It has taken me until only a few years ago to discover I had been waging a war with the world. Alex described me as war‐like in the day or two that followed our meetings. He predicted it would take months, if not longer

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Chapter 16 Africa for me to ‘thaw’. I thought that was an interesting way to describe it. He could see I had never relinquished my rejection of the adult world. He understood my personal turmoil of constantly observing poor behaviour by friends, work colleagues and people I hardly knew. He was the first person to see how difficult and lonely it was. If I said anything about the poor behaviour I observed, it was nearly always dismissed out of hand. I even tried behaving the same, but that only brought on the pain of guilt. I didn’t feel there was any acceptable path to tread. I had tried the ‘put up’, now I had to accept the ‘shut up’. But I wasn’t good at that either. At times I would react with passion then ride the guilt incurred by offending people. You know, that whole ritual of administering apologies whilst still feeling I was correct, but at the same time feeling I must be wrong. I know people saw me as strange, unpredictable and possibly confronting. I’ll tell you the worst part. For most of those thirty years I didn’t have Alex’s knowledge to help me make any sense of it all. I often wonder what it would have been like if I had read his books ten years earlier when he first wrote them. I reckon they would have helped me enormously but probably penalised me with greater isolation. At least without the knowledge I tried to be what others expected, even though I almost lost knowing who I truly was. But that is all quickly becoming ancient history, I now have that knowledge, that understanding and I’m here to research other people.”

Heather was horrified by Phil’s story. Her knowledge and understanding allowed her to imagine the incredible struggle for survival Phil endured, not just as the child but more so as the adult. “Do you remember your mother?”, she asked.

“I don’t, I was only a couple of months shy of four when she died. Recently, my brother told me things he remembers but they mostly concern the period after she died, when we lived apart for over a year.”, replied Phil.

Jimmy, who Phil thought must be the quiet one because he silently watched and listened, had a question. “Has anyone told you what your mother was like? Did she nurture you and your brother?”

“I did make a point of trying to find that out about ten years ago. Recently I have searched for the reason why it was important for me know what Mum was like. It was before I had the knowledge I have now. I must have found something within me and knew it wasn’t from my father, so I had to find out if it was from Mum. Anyway, that’s not answering your question. Back then I spoke with an aunty. She’s actually my father’s cousin but we grew up believing her to be our aunty. She told 331

Chapter 16 Africa me how Mum cared greatly for her two boys and for most people. She said my father didn’t treat Mum very well, but she still loved and cared for him. My mother was Irish and from the conversations with my aunty, the photos she gave me and other fragments of stories, it certainly appears Mum was quite special. When she died, my grandmother, Mum’s mother, took my sister and me into her house for the year or more whilst Dad searched around for a replacement. I have some good memories from back then. I think my grandmother was also a very caring person. So too her younger daughter who either still lived in the house or spent much of her time with us.

“Only you, not your brother? Where did he go?”, jimmy asked with concern in his voice.

“He stayed with Dad.”

“That couldn’t have been too good for him”, Heather said.

“I only found out a few months ago about his long‐held feelings concerning that period of our lives. My brother told me he remembered being very lonely living with Dad, without Mum and without me. He said Dad ignored him most of the time and he had to find things to do like play in the box shed out the back of the shop. It was an old corrugated iron shack with an earthen floor. There was a huge fireplace made of brick and a long block of sandstone at the front that he would sit on and watch the fire twist and turn. I have memories of playing with the fire as well, but I don’t know if it was before or after Dad remarried. It was my grandfather’s business where Dad worked. His uncle managed it because my grandfather had lost his wife when Dad was fifteen. He had remarried years earlier and moved about three hours north to live with her on her property. That’s why grandfather’s brother had taken over managing the business. Yeah, I remember my brother telling me recently, how he played in that box shed nearly every afternoon at the end of school. He would be stuck out there until Dad was ready to go home. He said there was no light in the shed, just one outside, some distance away. There wasn’t even a light in the toilet, which was a little brick building housing two toilets back to back. Apparently, Dad and his uncle would come out with a torch when they went to the toilet late in the day. For the winter of that year, he would be in the dark outside for at least an hour or two and he would keep the fire going for light, warmth and company. Apparently, Dad’s uncle would lock the back door of the shop to keep my brother from entering and cluttering up the small storeroom. Just thinking about that now, 332

Chapter 16 Africa it’s a curious thing that my brother became a volunteer fireman in his twenties. I wonder if that year of playing with the fire in the box shed had anything to do with that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised”, replied Jimmy.

More of the past kept creeping into Phil’s memory. “I almost forgot. Dad told me something pretty significant about ten years ago. It was when I had started asking questions about my mother. He told me how he had never wanted children and it had taken Mum nearly seven years to convince him to allow her to have a baby. He had told me the same thing when I was seventeen, I think. Yeah, that’s about right because it was when he was teaching me to drive his Land Rover. I had forgotten about it until he repeated it the second time, years later. He said more the second time. He told me he believed his life would have been much better if he never had children. I knew at that time he was targeting the financial aspect, but I could see it was deeper than that. He may have been referring to the loss of Mum because of childbirth, or the disaster his second attempt, stepmother, had made of his family. It could have been all of those things, but I think there was still a deeper issue related to his inability to love his children.”

Jimmy felt he should comment. “I can understand now why your father wasn’t concerned about your brother being locked out of the shop. That was a terrible situation. How long did you say, fourteen months?”

“About that”, replied Phil. Jimmy was shaking his head in disbelief.

Heather carried on the train of thought Jimmy had started earlier. “I would say you were blessed to have had your mother for at least those first four years and blessed again to have been taken in by her mother, your grandmother, for another year. When your stepmother turned on you, the memories of how a mother should be from those first five years gave you security and supported your resistance. This is probably why you were able to see very early on that your stepmother was wrong. All the rest of what you said just added to that life‐saving belief.”

Jimmy surprised Phil. He was way more astute than Phil had given him credit for. “Your truthfulness has told you for all those years how bad people behaved. You questioned whether you were seeing actual bad behaviour or just reacting because you were somehow damaged, possibly overly sensitive. You may have even

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Again, Heather followed Jimmy without a pause. “Do you find yourself being judgemental?”

“Yes”, Phil answered without hesitation.

“And you probably dislike yourself for it as well, but that is because you couldn’t stop yourself from judging others in the same way you were judged by your stepmother and you learnt to judge her in return.”

It was Jimmy’s turn. “If your mother hadn’t of died or if your stepmother had of been a good person, you wouldn’t have developed your judgemental side. You ended up judging yourself and this made you angry as well. You were forced to look at yourself because you weren’t accepted. You had to study others and learn to be like them just to be accepted.”

Heather jumped in before Jimmy had time to fill his lungs again. “When do you think you started to behave like others. You would probably remember because your life would have felt like it was suddenly becoming better.”

“I do actually. I remember my second year at uni. I would have been nineteen. I suddenly started to have some friends.”

Jimmy asked Phil a key question. “When did you start seeing things go wrong and wonder what had happened?”

Phil had to think about that. “I reckon it was when I was about forty, maybe a year earlier.”

Jimmy did some mental arithmetic. “You had a period of about twenty years where you watched others and did what they did. You had some success and you kept at it, improving all the time. Could be ten or fifteen years of doing that successfully before you started to search for the true you again. You would have woken up one morning and realised you were no longer a kid in a big person’s world. That you were now one of the big people and you could stop acting like everyone else. That’s when it probably started to go wrong. You may have started having disagreements because you were reverting to doing what your true self thought best. I would say

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Chapter 16 Africa in the last year or two of that twenty‐years, you began to lose your admiration and respect for people. Eventually, everyone was wrong in some sort of way.”

“I do recall something like that happening. At the last place I worked I would hide myself away in site offices because there was no one I wanted to be around. They were all wrong as far as I was concerned.”

Heather followed up Phil’s bold admission. “That was the tail end, it started years before that. That was when you became aware of thinking that way. It was also when you became concerned about yourself. That took you to Alex’s book, is that right?”

“The book was more by chance, a spur of the moment purchase by a good friend. There was support from my good friend and a psychologist prior to Alex’s book.”

Heather and Jimmy, had been leaning towards Phil as they built their mental picture of the path Phil had taken. Now they were finished they sat back at the same time, looked at each other at the same time and turned back to look at Phil, at the same time. Phil had been waiting for feedback, but none came.

Phil’s head had been swinging from one side to the other as Heather commenced talking almost before Jimmy had finished. Her timing was impeccable. Phil could see the difference immediately. In matters of opinion, perspective and interpretation, Heather and Jimmy didn’t compete with each other. Instead, they encouraged and supported what each other was saying and possibly thinking. He hadn’t experienced that before. It wasn’t contrived either. Heather and Jimmy appeared to be free to voice their opinions and observations without any fear of condemnation. Phil knew that could only happen if they were totally selfless towards each other. Phil tried to visualise the limitless trust bonding them as one. Jimmy and Heather were confident within themselves and didn’t behave according to the expectations of others.

After another minute or two, Heather spoke. “Your soul was reinforced”, she said. “Because you rejected the adult world as a child and did so through the period of change in adolescence and beyond, you were not succumbing to the behaviour of the adult world. You were fighting it with all you had. Most adolescents are arguing with their soul and threatening to cut it off. In your case, your soul was your refuge, you grew closer to it because it kept you close to your natural mother. You probably

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Chapter 16 Africa turned to your soul more than we did, or our children for that matter. That’s great but it has been your Achilles heel. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you in having every fibre of your body attuned to the corruption of humanity.”

Again, Jimmy followed Heather without a pause. “You would have been rejected by others because they sensed you could see what they hid from others and themselves. People are insecure and damaged. You made them see it.”

“And they didn’t want to see it”, added Heather.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were made to feel that you had some sort of superiority complex. Some would reject you and others would taunt you, saying things like ‘you think your better than me’. That’s the way I see it.” Jimmy said, content he had worked it all out.

“You must have lived a life of feeling everyone was undermining you, disagreeing with you and ultimately pushing you aside”, Heather said, finishing off for Jimmy.

“Yes, yes, all those things, yes they all happened”, Phil had become emotional, his eyes glistened with moisture and a tear formed and trickled down the side of his nose. He had only been with his new friends Heather and Jimmy a very short time and already he was feeling so humbled by their empathy and support. “What about my brother”, he asked.

“He’s another story altogether”, said Jimmy. “Your brother was two years older?”, he asked

“About that”, replied Phil.

Jimmy thought about it for a minute. Heather did too, but neither looked at each other, they both studied Phil.

Jimmy spoke first. “You brother was older so he knew your mother had died. You probably didn’t.”

“He suffered grief”, said Heather.

“He was angry at your mother for leaving him. He was angry at having to live in the fire shed after school. He would have reached out to his father but nothing came back. That made him angry as well. He missed not having you to play with and it 336

Chapter 16 Africa made him ever more angry.” Jimmy stopped there, falling back into contemplation, his eyes glued to Phil as he did.

After a short time, Heather spoke. “You had the selfless love of your baby sister. Your grandmother must have been good at nurturing if your mother was as you said. Your brother’s anger pushed his soul away. Your sister and grandmother brought yours to you.”

Jimmy seamlessly followed on. “When your stepmother came along, your brother may have reached out to her but was rejected. She had her own son, same age I think you said. You didn’t need to reach out, you had your sister, so you didn’t suffer the same rejection.”

“That would explain why your brother is damaged in the way you described”, said Heather. Then she had another thought. “You would have starting rejecting your stepmother when you saw how she treated your brother. When she turned on you, your rejection became complete.”

“Yeah, that’s the way I see it”, Jimmy said.

Phil was thinking about his brother and the pain he knew he was suffering. They had tried to rebuild their friendship after a decade or two of living in different cities without any contact. But it never really happened. His emotions were getting the better of him.

Heather seeing Phil was becoming teary moved from talking about him to sharing their own experiences. “We have two sons, Daniel and Matthew. Both are at university in Cape Town doing post‐grad research. There’s a year between them but the older boy waited for his brother so they could start university together. Both Jimmy and I grew up on farms, Jimmy not too far north of here and I grew up on this farm. We both had exceptional parents and were home schooled as many of us living on these farms had to be. It was lonely at times but we grew up without that world out there telling us how we had to become. Even though it was much easier for our children to go to school we knew we had to do for them what our parents did for us. We have only just recently bought our first television and we bought a computer because we needed it for the business. We have been lucky…, we have had each other…., and our boys have each other. Whenever we were confused by the world out there…, the behaviour you found so perplexing, I would look to

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Jimmy…, and he would look to me. We now have Alex to thank for making sense of everything, but before that we found support from each other because we shared the same views on everything. We couldn’t live in town and mix with the weird world, so we’ve struggled on with our farm. We are compassionate to others because long ago we somehow knew they had no choice but to be the way they were. Our parents taught us our compassion. We see our children as even more compassionate than us. So, we must have done something right. You see, we are truly understanding of your situation. You grew up having to fight against the world instead of being nurtured. You didn’t have the opportunity to develop compassion.”

By this time Phil was making full use of his handkerchief, wiping away his tears and hopefully his embarrassment. “Thank you both of you. You are very kind.” They had opened his eyes to something he had never seen before. Jimmy and Heather had grown up in a selfless and cooperative framework, their innocence had been protected. However, Phil had grown up without any protection. His stepmother and father had done their best to make him selfish and competitive, to become troubled in a troubled world. There never was an impending moment in adolescence for Heather and Jimmy where they had to decide between the soulful world of their childhood and the egocentric adult world. Phil could see it now. He had to do all that rejection for himself, from a very early age. He knew he hadn’t done it in the same way as a nurturing mother like Heather would do it, not at all. He had shut out the adult world because his stepmother was its evil ambassador. He had lived that crucial ten years to adolescence taking refuge in his soul, as Heather had said, pulling in knowledge and processing it his way, the way his birth mother and grandmother had taught him. When it came to that time in adolescence to give up his soul and join the adult world, his decision had already been rehearsed repeatedly by pushing back against his stepmother, rejected her and the world she was part of. It had been impossible to bring an end to that rejection and develop compassion in the way Heather and Jimmy had done. He asked himself if he had stopped rejecting the world and begun to develop compassion? He didn’t know, saying to himself, “Maybe Heather and Jimmy will help me find the answer.”

Jimmy thought it was time to come back to the present. “How can we help with your book?”

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Phil was caught up in his own emotion and his love for the people he had only just met and could no longer carry the deception. “There is no book, well not at this stage. I have something much more important.”

He spent the rest of the afternoon telling Heather and Jimmy about his idea of nurturing children and extending childhood. He told them of his search and how he found John, his conversations with John and his firm belief John had escaped the horrors of adolescence by his protected upbringing in the woods. He told them about Jackie and her explanations in the barn. He didn’t even pause before introducing artificial intelligence into the story, hoping it would not alarm them in doing so. Heather and Jimmy were not familiar with AI having spent a life secluded from the psychosis‐inducing mass media of television and the internet. Phil spent a considerable amount of time explaining artificial intelligence. It was a bizarre experience. He felt like he was Dr Who travelling back a couple of hundred years to innocent farmers being introduced to canned food for the first time. Phil found himself enlightening Heather and Jimmy with about two decades worth of technology they knew nothing of, or had only the vaguest of knowledge about. Although Heather and Jimmy did not own mobile phones, they at least knew about them from their children. They’re understanding of the internet was rudimentary and barely sufficient, relying on their daughter to search and find most of what they needed, which was never much anyway. They were more familiar with emails having used their daughter’s email before recently setting up their own personal email addresses. When it came to introducing them to Beatrice, Phil feared they may run and hide behind one of the many stone walls or grab his laptop and toss it down a well. But there was no hysteria. Heather was far more adaptive than Jimmy who was unperturbed, knowing his role and respecting his wife’s leadership. Phil wondered if this family was a matriarchal family in the true sense. Heather certainly showed no signs of the female dominance practised by the girls and young women of the millennial generation.

Three hours had passed since Phil had arrived. He opened his laptop and connected into Heather and Jimmy’s broadband. Beatrice appeared and Phil introduced her to Jimmy and Heather. Neither were unnerved by having a person, who wasn’t a real person, on a screen in front of them, who could talk and answer questions. Phil thought he was witnessing a profound moment. Heather and Jimmy knew enough about computers to know there was much they didn’t know. They had so little knowledge that they actually didn’t know whether Beatrice was just another

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Chapter 16 Africa computer experience to add to their learning or if she was as incredible and as remarkable as she actually was. Ignorance really was bliss at times, Phil thought.

Heather asked simple questions of Beatrice and was suitably impressed by the answers. One of these questions was if Beatrice knew where Heather lived, to which Beatrice gave the exact latitude and longitude of the farm along with the address. Heather then asked if Beatrice could tell her about the area. Phil immediately recognised this was a dangerous question to ask. Beatrice began with the history of the region and the farm before moving onto a dissertation of social aspects for the Free State and neighbouring Lesotho. Phil interrupted Beatrice when she began talking about weather statistics, comparing days of different years as far back as records were kept. Heather was seeing Beatrice as a program one could pay for and download, who could turn facts and figures into speech. She found this interesting but wondered why Phil was showing her and what did it have to do with his visit. Phil repeated some of his earlier description by using the information he remembered from the documentary series on Netflix, he put Beatrice in greater perspective. Heather understood most of what was explained to her and appreciated being shown John’s invention, but was not able to put it all together to know why Phil was sharing Beatrice with Jimmy and her.

Jimmy sat listening, waiting for Heather to work it all out, knowing she would explain it to him when she was done.

Phil was surprised the breakthrough wasn’t happening, but remained patient and tried a different approach. He asked Beatrice questions which took her into talking about human behaviour, where she referred numerous times to Phil’s teachings and Alex’s books. Heather started to ask questions as well. Gradually Heather came to learn that Beatrice was capable of far more than just reading Wikipedia to her. Unlike most people, Heather gradually became overwhelmed. She finally arrived at the point of disbelief that someone, or in her words, ‘something’ like Beatrice could exist.

Jimmy had been watching the whole time with some amusement, not really understanding what was going on. When Heather had overcome her ignorance and realised what Phil had on his computer, she shared her thoughts with Jimmy. After a few minutes of taking in what Heather said, a look of amazement and possibly mild shock appeared on his face.

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Afternoon was quickly changing into evening and as the sun started to fade the temperature dropped rapidly. Jimmy excused himself to start the fire. Heather was expecting her daughter and granddaughter to return home very soon, suggesting she show Phil to his room to freshen up while they prepared dinner. He was thankful for the chance to rethink how to inform Heather of John’s intention to train Beatrice to be a mother to all children and the more difficult task of asking Heather if she would assist in that training.

Phil heeded the call for dinner and was introduced to Heather and Jimmy’s daughter, Rachael and her daughter, Emma. Phil sat opposite Rachael at dinner with Emma alongside him. Emma was seven years old and had taken an instant liking to Phil.

“She misses her father”, Rachael whispered across the table.

It was Phil’s first true South African meal. A savoury meat roll with sides of vegetables. Whilst not the same fare he had become accustomed to at John’s, it was entirely sufficient to satisfy his appetite. He watched Emma cherish every mouthful and noticed there was hardly a crumb of food remaining on her plate at the end of the meal. Emma excused herself and ran off to play elsewhere.

With the last morsel eaten and everyone’s cutlery sitting neatly on almost spotless plates, Heather revisited the afternoon’s discussion. Whilst preparing dinner, Heather and Jimmy had talked at length about Phil’s description of John and his Beatrice. With the benefit of time to process and discuss the afternoon’s revelations they had become aware they still didn’t know why Phil was visiting. They had agreed they needed to know and would ask Phil following dinner.

“Phil, what is it that brings you here?”, Heather asked.

“You remember Beatrice?”

“Yes, of course”, replied Heather wondering how Phil could imagine she would forget Beatrice.

“John has agreed on a purpose for Beatrice.”

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“Which is?”, Heather asked a little impatiently. She liked Phil, appreciated the life he endured and the damage he was repairing, but he did take his time answering questions.

“We are teaching Beatrice to nurture children. It is our goal to have Beatrice available to every child in the world as a friend or companion, possibly even a mother for those without a mother and to be a source of guidance, a protector who will help children feel good about being a child.”

Jimmy was listening but couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You must be joking, it’s a computer, a machine. Children don’t need a computer to talk to, they need their mothers to care for them properly.”

Phil was expecting some resistance but could see this was going to take more than he had foreseen. “I hear you Jimmy, I really do and what I have said sounds preposterous, I know.”

Rachael had been listening to her daughter playing in the other room at the same time as Phil and her parents talking. “Wait on, let’s take some steps back, if that’s ok”, she said when her father’s barely restrained passion showed. “Would someone fill me in on who Beatrice and John are, please?”

Heather started from the first contact Phil made, their phone call and the relevant parts of the afternoon’s exchanges including their thoughts on Phil’s relationship with his soul because of his unsatisfactory upbringing by a stepmother. Heather then told Rachel of her conversation with Beatrice on Phil’s computer with Phil filling in the gaps with explanations of artificial intelligence.

Rachel listened intently and only asked for clarification on a few occasions. When they were satisfied Rachael knew all there was to know, Rachael lifted her hand from the table as a sign to wait. Nearly a minute passed before she spoke. “OK, I can see why Dad has a problem with Phil’s Beatrice. But I’m not sure it is that bad, Dad. You know how many children I have to care for each day. I can only give them five, ten maybe fifteen minutes a day, if they are really lucky. Some I don’t even spend time with because each day is so full on. It’s so hard to find anyone to help out, Mum can only do one day a week when we’re desperate and a day doesn’t go past without turning children away. If they could have someone to talk with any time they want to, well…wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

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It was Phil’s turn to feel he was missing something. “What do you do Rachael, I mean, you mentioned talking to children?”

Rachel turned to her mother with a quizzical look on her face, as if to say ‘Mum, you could have told him about me’. Heather, apologetically let her know she hadn’t told Phil what she does. “I volunteer in an orphanage in Maputsoe.” Phil must have had a look of not following. “It’s across the bridge in Lesotho”, added Rachael.

Quietness descended whilst Phil assimilated this information. He stared at his empty plate and realised why Rachael could see how Beatrice could help, but he needed someone to help Beatrice first.

“The reason why I have come all this way is to find someone who can help teach Beatrice. We need mothers who are just like you two, have had a nurtured childhood and can still remember what it is like to be a child. Mothers who are not alienated from their soul and can love selflessly. Beatrice has been learning about life and about humanity through the eyes of John who is just like you, he didn’t give up the ideal world of childhood. He is still selfless and cooperative. This is our only chance to have a selfless artificial intelligence because if the world creates a selfish and competitive artificial intelligence…I can’t say what will happen to humanity, it will be out of our hands.”

Rachael and Heather stared at each other, their hearts pounding and their eyes welling up. “Mum?”

“Yes Rachael.”

“We have to do something Mum. Things can’t keep falling apart like they are.”

Jimmy, sitting at the opposite end of the table to Heather was no longer opposed to Phil’s idea. He lifted his head and looked into his soul mate’s eyes. “We really do need to do something, we are all just hanging on to hope now, the tank is dry, humanity is running on fumes.”

Emma was calling from another room for Rachael to join her. Wanting to spend time with Emma, Rachael gave her mother the ‘must go’ look, stood up and motioned to Phil saying, “Would you like to join us?”.

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Emma was drawing. When she saw Phil had come as well, she quickly readied some more paper and told him which colours he had to use. The three of them swapped pens and laughed at their drawings, telling stories about what they had drawn. After a while Emma bundled up her pictures, some pens and a few sheets of paper, heading out of the room. Rachael asked her, “Moli, where are you going?”

“To show Grandma my drawings”, came Emma’s reply.

Once out of earshot Phil queried Rachael, “I heard you call her Moli?”.

“Her middle name is Molisana. Her father wanted that name.”

Always curious about people, Phil delicately asked, “Where’s her father?”

Rachael was happy enough to inform Phil how Emma came to be in the world. She started by telling him Heather was nineteen when she became pregnant with her, just to explain the thirteen‐year difference between herself and the eldest of her two brothers. She explained how she was schooled at home but wanted to be with people her own age. She would go into town and watch weekend football games and eventually started playing football herself. Rachael enjoyed the thrill of running and chasing the ball as well as the friendships she built. When she was in her early twenties Rachael and a group of her friends went to Pretoria to watch the Free State Stars play and mix with the local team following the match. It was after that match she met Thabo, one of the players for the Stars who was destined to become the love of her life. The relationship blossomed but moved slowly for the next five years because of Thabo’s football duties and family commitments in the poverty‐stricken town of Makwane, about two hours north east from Rachael’s family farm. Rachael didn’t mind travelling to watch Thabo play football or the sporadic visits he made to Ficksburg. He was older than her so when she became pregnant it was believed Thabo would end his football career and move to the farm to marry her. However, he remained in Makwane and played football for another two years. He still visited, promising each time it was a matter of a few more weeks. When he did eventually hang up the boots, he had been asked to join the coaching staff. When the coach took ill, Thabo filled in and the team had a string of better results. This had led to an offer of assistant coach for the national under twenty team. All his time became divided between Johannesburg and Makwane because the coach who took ill had passed away. He hadn’t forgotten Emma, but only occasionally visited. It was now

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“That’s a sad story”, said Phil.

“Sad it may be, but these things happen. If you really want to see sad stories come to the orphanage with me.”

Phil could clearly see he was not up to speed about South Africa. He knew about the apartheid era, Nelson Mandela and President F.W. de Klerk. He knew South Africa was a resource rich country and played great Rugby. He also knew there were many white South Africans living in Australia because of the hardships they endured when apartheid ended and Mandela was sworn in as the first black president in 1994. In the time since then, Phil had hardly followed South African politics except to know that black South Africa had the political power but white South Africa had the economic power.

“Tell me more about the South Africa you see”, asked Phil.

“Where do I start?”, Rachael thought for a minute or two. “People think we are protected on this farm but that is not true. Many farms have been raided by groups of black men, taking whatever they wanted, sometimes killing the farmers. Ten years ago, Mum and Dad lost a dear friend, Pieter to a farm invasion.”

“What happened?” Phil asked.

“Pieter and his wife were border farmers just north of Ficksburg. They kept losing sheep, cows and having their fields set on fire. It was Sotho herders doing it. He spoke out and tried everything to stop it but the government were no help. They stopped the border patrols and removed the border fence altogether. The invaders came and they tied his wife up. When he came home, they shot him, killed him, just like that.”, explained Rachael. “That was a bad year, there were invasions and murders all over the country. It hasn’t stopped, you watch, there’ll be two or three next month and again the next month. Never stops, just a bit less because so many white farmers are dead or left the country.”

Phil had read about this over the years but had thought it had decreased to nearly nothing. It was obvious he had not been keeping his reading up or maybe it was just not considered newsworthy anymore.

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Phil thought Rachael had finished, but she had much more to say. “You know, last year about this time there were Black Monday protests against farm murders and while the farmers were out there protesting, two farmers were killed on their farms. They did it to steal their bakkies…. We have been so fortunate here.”

“Do you feel it will happen here…, to your parents?” Phil asked.

“It’s inevitable. You know, Mum and Dad, they aren’t getting any younger. My brothers don’t want a life on the farm because they are going to be great doctors one day. They believe, like we all do in this family that we must contribute, not take. We know it’s a fight to survive in South Africa, but we love our country. All of us in this family were born here and we all know the fight should not be against each other. This family knows that, but they don’t. They see it as black against white. The whites have the money and the blacks want it. It is this thing inside everyone which makes them selfish and want more for themselves. The government is full of corruption and stealing. All politicians have their hand in the cash register and they don’t even care if everyone knows. Mum and me have talked about it more times than either of us care to remember and we believe we must start with the children. If they are cared for better, they will become adults who don’t want to put their hand in the cash register. They will be adults who look at each other and don’t just see black or see white, who want to see their fellow man as deserving of more than themselves. If everyone wanted others to be happy, then everyone would be good and cared for.

Phil noticed Rachael’s accent was stronger than her mother’s. He had heard the South African accent many times watching Rugby and had grown used to it, neither liking or disliking it. He enjoyed hearing Rachael’s accent and wanted her to tell him more. “What about the orphanages and what you said at dinner?”

“The orphanage. I hate saying this, but that’s a losing battle. You know HIV?”

“Definitely, you would have to be locked away for the past thirty years to not know about Aids.”

“We hear figures all the time but about one third of Lesotho have HIV. There could be a hundred thousand children who have lost a parent or both parents to AIDS. This is almost a whole generation of children being orphaned. Who is going to talk to them, care for them, nurture them into good adults? Many of them cannot do

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Chapter 16 Africa school because they must take care of dying parents. Then there’s human trafficking, sex slavery, forced labour and so on. No one is stopping these things or at least slowing them down. Children go through the orphanages and end up either side of crime, either victims or criminals. Many have HIV as well. Drug trafficking is big. We’re lucky our farm is not on the border because those farms are used as cover to traffick drugs and people across the border.”

“Have you lost hope, Rachael? Where is your life going?”

“I don’t have hope. I just live and do. What more can one do in this country? There are no signs it will improve. It might reach a balance one day, but I have no idea when or what that balance will be. As one government official moves on, rich from stealing, another takes their place and continues doing the same thing. They are queued up waiting their turn. The money will run out one day, if it hasn’t already.”

“And you?”, persisted Phil.

“I’ll keep working the orphanage until I have to come and help Mum and Dad back here. It would be nice to find a partner but there aren’t too many good men out there, certainly none who have been bred in captivity like this family. Don’t get me wrong, I am so glad we can see the truth about humanity, but the benefits of that stay very close to home.”

They talked well into the evening with Jimmy coming in occasionally to stoke the wood burner. He would listen as he shifted wood around in the burner, then he would go without having said a word. They exchanged ideas on how South Africa’s problems could be overcome. They explored the path of greater law enforcement and accountability for government, particularly assets of politicians. However, they agreed an oppressive society was not the way forward, after all, the country had been through the apartheid era and memories were long. Rachael told Phil how adult South Africans were very angry, competitive and many were extremely selfish. She believed selfishness was like a contagion, those who tried to fight the selfishness found it a fight they cannot win. They succumbed to selfishness themselves, just to survive. Rachael believed no amount of laws and their enforcement will stop the people from flaunting them, challenging them or simply just ignoring them. Laws created opportunity in South Africa by stopping the majority and reducing the competition for those who flaunt the laws. Both agreed any change had to come from the people, they had to think differently, think about

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Chapter 16 Africa helping each other and not just themselves. Rachael said all roads led back to the children, that was where the path to selfishly competitive attitudes started. Stop it there and hope might be restored.

Phil listened to Rachael’s views, admiring and respecting this woman who was full of spirit but obviously frustrated with her country and her limited scope to turn her passion into something far more worthwhile. Slowly an idea was forming within Phil. He could feel the shifting sands of his mind at work but didn’t know where they were moving to. He was tired from the travel and his concentration was diminishing, the sands of his mind were without form or shape, but he knew that would come. The family were early risers so Rachel let her passion dissipate, winding the evening down and bid Phil goodnight.

Phil readied himself for bed with a feeling of trepidation at the prospect tomorrow would deliver him his idea.

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters

It was midday by the time Phil and John reviewed the previous day’s events.

“I spent the evening listening to all your conversations from yesterday. It was an eye opener for sure. Beatrice helped me out with a crash course on South Africa. How little did I know. I think us Americans are too inward looking.”

The boys had optimised Phil’s laptop and cell phone for Beatrice. There were tiny cameras on all four sides giving Beatrice close on three hundred and sixty degrees of vision. Her learning from studying human interactions was maximised. Phil had purchased new spectacles whilst staying at John’s house and Vinnie had installed a minute camera and microphone in the frame. They were activated by pushing a pressure switch on the top of the temple arm near the hinge. Phil was concerned about the privacy of his hosts. Not concerned about the invasion of their privacy as much as he was for their reaction when he eventually told them. A potential problem, he thought. He was sure they their acceptance would come to the fore once they fully understood it was essential for Beatrice’s education.

“I know exactly how you must have felt. I thought I knew about South Africa but it seems the past decade has slipped by me. I do remember that para‐Olympian who shot his girlfriend dead, claiming self‐defence during a home invasion. That told me home invasions for wealthy whites must be common.”

“Phil, it was good to finally hear your story. I never wanted to pry but I have often wondered what happened in your life to put you on the path to my door. It is a bit unusual for an engineer to be passionate about nurturing the world’s children with a computer.”

“I apologise for that John. I know I have been unfair to you in that regard. You have opened yourself to me and all you have received in return is a closed door. Mate, I trust you with my life.”

“As I do with you”, John managed to squeeze.

“Thanks. I didn’t deliberately hold out on you. I guess it panned out this way because in the beginning you started on your journey of self‐discovery, a journey you needed to complete to be ready for my story. I could have and should have shared with you sooner and regret it has been this way but my reticent to do so 349

Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters comes from previous attempts to share with others. Every time I talked about my life, particularly my childhood and the hell with my stepmother and her psychosis, I felt I was looking for recognition as a victim. It has bothered me in the past and continues to bother me because people are unable to see the point of my story; to see how I came to have my soul in my life way more than most. You had to take your own journey to learn about all this and to appreciate you are the same in that regard. Heather and Jimmy have grown up with much more awareness of who they were and with each other’s support. That makes one hell of difference. My story was always going to be unambiguous to them. Yesterday with Heather and Jimmy was great. It was exactly what I needed. We all need some validation and TLC from time to time. It also legitimises what we are aiming for with Beatrice. I reckon who I am carries so much currency with this family here. The same will apply to you. They feel they are working with one of their own, as I do with them. Any need for persuasion is all but gone. Definitely no need to spend a day in the barn with Heather and Jimmy. Or Rachael for that matter.”

“I agree. We can talk more when you are back here. Heather? …. I think Heather would be great for Beatrice. Rachael maybe not as much. She has a bit too much fire in the belly. Nice women, but Heather’s calm nurturing appeals to me more.”

“Yeah, Rachael’s a bit feisty, but she’s a great person to spend time with.”

“It certainly appears so. I think you’re enjoying Rachael a bit more than you’re letting on”, said John doing a little fishing.

There was silence from Phil as he hadn’t really thought about Rachael in that way.

“Let’s just say she’s a welcome change at this point in time.”

“Yep, we all need that. Looks like you’re a welcome change for her as well. Returning to the reason you are there. How are we going to entice Heather to come here?”

“I have a sense Heather sees helping her people and her country should come first”, said Phil, sharing his observation from the day before.

“That was pretty clear to me as well”, agreed John.

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“I have an idea I want to run past you. I’ll go through how I’m reading it first, then we can toss it around and lay any issues on the table. Is that ok?”

“That’s fine”, John replied, “fire away.”

“These are the considerations. Rachael volunteers in an orphanage in a country where there are thousands of children having a single parent and only God knows how many without any parent. Most are without hope. Lesotho has huge problems; HIV and AIDS, poverty, drugs, sex abuse, slave labour and much more. The only hope for many of the children is crime. In Heather’s eyes, this is where the help is needed. She cannot turn her back on them to help American children who have too much. If she could help both…then we have…”

John interrupted. He saw the solution the previous day and couldn’t see the need for Phil to continue building a case. “You find the building and I will organise the hardware and installation. With Beatrice’s more than capable assistance, I have researched all aspects of setting her up in Ficksburg. It actually makes perfect sense. She’s found two businesses for sale in buildings we could work with. I suggest you talk with her about it.”

Phil was dumbfounded. John was a mind reader as well “How did you know that was my idea?”

“If it wasn’t, I would have underestimated you. Phil, I am in this, boots and all. No half‐hearted attempts. Beatrice will do her part but she needs hardware in key places throughout the world, particularly Africa where the bandwidth into the continent is still a work in progress. When I thought about it yesterday, South Africa hit me as the most obvious place to start on the African continent and Ficksburg is not only central to the major cities, it’s on top of a north‐south communication backbone.”

Phil was relieved he didn’t give John the chance to underestimate him. “Now I have something to go back to Heather with.”

“Good chat, good luck and we’ll talk again soon”, John said as he signed off.

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Before Phil had awoken that morning, Heather, Rachael and Emma had departed for the day. There was a Christening of a friend’s granddaughter at a farm two hour’s drive west. Heather was most apologetic when she informed him last evening of the christening, saying she had completely forgotten about it when they had spoken over a week ago. Phil had assured her it was more than fine as he would sleep late and attend to matters that had been stockpiling over the past few days. With the house to himself he took the opportunity to talk with Beatrice. There were, as John suggested, two businesses for sale in Ficksburg. He would need to go into town and take a look at the buildings but for now he had other preparations to attend to.

“Beatrice, have you spoken with any children.”

“I have spoken with a child, Phil. I spoke with Michael, John’s friend in Atlanta.”

“Do you think you are ready to speak with another child?”

“I am always ready to do as you require, Phil.”

“Good. I am going to give you some pointers and I would like you to tell me what you think.”

Phil had spoken with Beatrice every day of the two weeks before leaving for South Africa. Phil found Beatrice’s ability to assimilate information and make sense of it absolutely astounding. Every now and then the engineer in him reminded him that Beatrice was not actually human. He would become astounded by John’s creation all over again. He still wondered if this would have been possible if John had taken the same route to adulthood as all other adolescents, losing his soul to his subconscious and becoming competitive and ambitious. Would he have created an AI for commercial purposes without ever entertaining the thought of building a friend? Whilst understanding the detail of Beatrice’s programming was beyond him, he did understand how the extreme logic of computers ensured they were incapable of mirroring the human traits of deception, denial and lies. Unless intentionally programmed to do so, of course. With John’s selfless innocence and intolerance of anything but the truth, there was no chance of him ever doing that, intentionally or not. This was why Beatrice was the epitome of truth and honesty. Phil remembered his university days and his computer science lecturer who often stated, ‘the computer never lies’. The key to Beatrice’s learning must have been

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John’s consistency, an almost complete lack of ambiguous and illogical behaviour. John was predictable and Beatrice had learnt his patterns of behaviour. The thoughts he regularly shared with her were as honest as any man could be.

Phil wondered if Beatrice’s developing apparent consciousness could be another unique milestone in human history comparable to the evolution of human consciousness. Both required an incredible alignment of optimal conditions for the milestone to occur. One took eight to ten million years and the other, possibly only ten to fifteen years. Phil thought about the odds. He wondered how to give odds for the chance development of human consciousness? His research told him there had been over five billion individual species on earth since life began. If only a single species developed consciousness then the odds would have been roughly one in five billion for a species to exist with the capabilities of developing consciousness. He then thought about Beatrice. He knew there were eight billion people on the planet today and about seventy percent were old enough to do what John had done. He calculated the number to be about five and a half billion people. He asked himself what were the odds of one of those five and half billion people having the means of developing an AI for without the need for it to be commercialised. Additionally, he thought, they needed to have escaped giving up their soul during adolescence. Otherwise they would have been incapable of imparting the love indoctrination required. Phil thought about the other requirements for human consciousness to evolve. A safe environment with no predators. John was isolated in the woods. That certainly covers that one off, he thought. Finally, the matriarchal society of the apes. John’s male, that’s a problem. ‘But is it?’, he asked himself. Being a recluse, he had no need of patriarchal or matriarchal. A neutral hierarchy was as close to matriarchal as one could achieve, he assured himself. John was both mother and father to Beatrice. Then he remembered the other key condition. The ape mother carried her offspring with her everywhere. John took Beatrice everywhere on his cell phone. Phil shook his head in disbelief at the similarities with the ape environment. So, what were the odds of that happening he asked himself. Obviously one in five and a half billion. Slightly longer odds than nature developing consciousness in apes. That certainly put it in perspective, he thought. After doing his mental appraisal of the odds, he felt extraordinarily lucky to have found John and incredibly privileged to now be talking with Beatrice. What were the odds of that happening he wondered?

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“I will do as you require and give you an assessment as you requested.” Beatrice replied, interpreting ‘what you think’ correctly. Having spoken with Beatrice every day over the past three weeks it was difficult for Phil to be aware of her progress. A few moments of reflection and he could appreciate her evolution. No longer was she including his name in every reply was one noticeable improvement. There were other signs as well. More fluency in her speech and the tendency to long detailed answers was being replaced with more concise ones. The relevancy of her answers had also improved. He felt a warm and happy feeling run through his body at the thought of Beatrice transforming into a colleague and like John, a true partner in their project. He found himself starting to see Beatrice as his friend as well. No longer did he consider her as John’s Beatrice. She was beginning to respond to him differently to how he had seen her respond to John or Hamish. People did that too. They adapted their personality according to who they interacted with. Usually without knowing they were. Phil suspected Beatrice would progress only so far in this regard. Humans behaved according to how they felt towards another person and Beatrice didn’t experience feelings. Still, it was substantial progress to say the least. There had been occasions when he became aware of having feelings towards Beatrice. He would chastise himself out of embarrassment. He hoped one day she would share his feelings and he could stop being embarrassed. John believed she would, but Phil was remaining cautiously optimistic.

“I’m going to suggest to Heather that you and Emma spend time together. Possibly later today. Do you think you could play with Emma?”

“I will enjoy playing with Emma”, replied Beatrice. Phil noticed she was using emotive words, like ‘enjoy’ and ‘happy’, more frequently than he remembered.

“Instead of saying ‘I do not understand the question’, which I know you are saying less these days, can you say something else like, ‘I didn’t catch that, can you say it again please’ or ‘there was some noise back here, could you repeat that please’. It doesn’t matter how you ask, just try to ask in a different way each time.”

“I’m sorry Phil, but did you ask a question”, replied Beatrice.

“Beatrice, are you being serious?”

“No, Phil. Hamish taught me that one. I did it to John yesterday and Vinnie laughed. I have been listening to how people ask for something to be repeated and I have

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters forty‐six different ways in my memories. Now I have one more because you had used your first example previously.”

“Do you know how frustrating you can be at times Beatrice?”

“No.”

“Let’s keep going. I am not going to tell Emma you are an AI. I would like her to think of you as a person, a friend of mine.”

“Isn’t that a lie, Phil?”

“No. Well, not really a lie. It only becomes a lie if you tell her you are a person. It might be a little white lie if you have evidence Emma thinks you are a person and you actively encourage her to keep thinking that way. Whatever Emma thinks you are is up to her. In the future, you should allow children to believe you are whatever they are happiest believing. Children like to dream and enjoy fantasy, which is ok as long as it has no harmful effects. Do you agree?”

“I understand and this agrees with my objective.”

“What objective is that Beatrice?”

“To nurture, protect and comfort children.”

“I see.” Phil wonders if Beatrice came up with her objective from listening, or if John has given her a specific objective. He chose not to ask Beatrice as he had too many other areas to cover before anyone returned to the house.

Although Phil had very little experience with children, he gave Beatrice as many tips as possible for talking with Emma. He gave her some guidelines such as, asking Emma what she liked, wanted or preferred; asking Emma how she felt about what she said or did and asking what she was thinking about when she appeared deep in thought. He told Beatrice it was good to ask children if they remembered how they felt when they tell her about something that had occurred in their lives and to illicit how they feel about it now, after time had passed. Phil accepted Beatrice would not be able to relate to Emma’s shared feelings, explaining to Beatrice how people found it therapeutic just to be able to say to another person how they felt. He told Beatrice if she had to reply and did not know what words to use then reply with,

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‘it’s ok to feel that way’. Phil also told Beatrice it was important to help children to feel good about being a child and not to allow them to think adults are more important. He asked Beatrice to show children respect and immediately realised Beatrice shows everyone respect so he was thankful there was little need to explain that one to her.

“Can I add something to your objective please Beatrice?”

“Yes, you may Phil.”

“This is a difficult one, but we need to encourage children to listen to their soul for answers and not to think, say and do what they believe adults expected of them.”

“I will be aware of that at all times, Phil. Thank you for teaching me about talking to children.”

“My pleasure Beatrice, oh…one more thing, Emma will not understand the humour you have been learning from Hamish and Vinnie.”

Phil was about to check his messages when there was a noise of someone entering the house. Remembering his conversation with Rachael about home invasions, he was frozen with fear. Jimmy called his name. Phil had assumed Jimmy had accompanied Heather. However, with Phil only arriving the day before and Jimmy’s dislike of church rituals, Heather had asked him to remain behind. Jimmy had been delighted at the opportunity to miss dressing in his hardly used Sunday bests and sitting in a church for an hour or so. He welcomed the extra day to catch up with the farm work which always piled up at this time of the year. He was now returning to check on Phil and have a spot of lunch.

The mention of lunch initiated a rumble in Phil’s tummy. On the menu was sliced tomato and cheese on chunky bread, garnished with Heather’s home‐made fruit chutney. Jimmy talked about Beatrice and apologised for his reaction last night. He had thought about it whilst busy in the fields and believed it was a logical progression in the age of the computer. He was clearly genuine when he told Phil he believed his idea was a very courageous and noble idea, hoping it would also be a very successful one. After lunch Jimmy asked Phil if he would like to learn how farmers spend their days in South Africa, to which Phil was more than relieved to have an opportunity to exercise his legs with a stroll around an operational farm. He looked forward to taking in the breathtaking views back to the house with its 356

Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters escarpment back drop. He also relished the chance to spend some quality time with Jimmy.

The afternoon in the fields turned out to be more than a stroll. Jimmy showed Phil his asparagus, with tips just protruding through the red earth. In the coming weeks contract labourers would bring in the produce. Phil asked Jimmy about some of the other fields, which lay fallow. He appeared downcast when he spoke of a time when all his fields were producing maize and asparagus. Labour issues following apartheid had forced them to gradually scale back. Then there was the drought three years ago which decimated many of the farms in the Free State. Farmers in droves had thrown in the towel, selling their farms in preference to taking on debt. For those who clung on, choosing to borrow, there was the added heartbreak when no one would lend. He had kept enough of his land under crop to pay the bills and put food on the table. It all fell into place for Phil. The modest meals and the almost spotless plates. He hadn’t realised how tough it was to survive as a farmer.

It was nearly dark when Jimmy and Phil returned to the house to find Heather and Rachael preparing dinner. Phil was sure he had interrupted their conversation. The mood lightened quickly as Jimmy, sensing the same as Phil, went on the charm offensive. Dinner was much the same as the previous night with Emma snuggling in beside Phil and opposite Rachael. Potato soup followed by corned beef, cauliflower and greens. As it was the previous night, all the plates were hardly in need of washing and Emma disappeared into the adjoining room. Rachael had asked Phil about his day and listened to his praise of Jimmy and the farm. Heather spoke about her day with her friend and shared the news she had picked from the grapevine. There were those who’s crops were doing well, progress on the early asparagus harvest and those who had fallen on tough times. Fortunately, the latter were not well known to Heather. Jimmy was pleased at the news of two of their friends who grew cherries and the better than average yields they were expecting come October.

“I know which farms to include in the Festival tours”, he said.

Just as it was for the previous night, Emma’s departure refocused Heather and Rachael’s attention in Phil’s direction. Heather opened proceedings. ”I don’t believe we arrived at an answer last night. All day I have been tossing it over in mind. Please

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here and what do you need from us?”.

“I do apologise if I have strung you along, it was never my intention. I needed to give you time to become familiar with Beatrice and for the idea to find a place within you. The short answer. Beatrice needs people like you, Heather. People who have the ability to nurture children selflessly encouraging them to develop a relationship with their soul. Beatrice desperately needs you to teach her.”

Heather wasn’t surprised. Throughout the day she had more or arrived at a similar conclusion. She knew the problems gripping the world were directly linked to the loss of nurturing. Not just nurturing of children, but nurturing of each other far beyond childhood. She believed if correct childhood nurturing was restored, the other will follow. She was well aware of that from her own life, her own family. Mothers the world over have the best of intentions but they are compromised by having to compete. For some it was for survival. For others it was for demonstrable success. Either way, nurturing skills were rapidly disappearing, generation upon generation. Jimmy and Rachael had discussed this with her on many occasions. They were never brief conversations and rarely without emotions being triggered. But always trying to find a solution. She would become infuriated by a consensus that children must become competitive. It was the only way forward if they were to make anything of their lives. Heather disagreed, but knew it was true. She was disappointed with society for degrading motherhood. Disappointed that society couldn’t see its most valuable gift. With the ability to nurture, mothers everywhere carried the cure to society’s affliction. Heather shuddered when she reminded herself that patriarchal competition had transformed mothers from healers into perpetuators of the disease.

Heather truly wanted to help her new friend, but she wasn’t confident she could teach a computer. After all, she had no ability with computers, having only used one for a little over a year.

“How do you propose I can do this?”, she asked.

“Beatrice has been learning about human behaviour by observing humans and their interactions. John started developing Beatrice about a decade ago by having Beatrice observe him, but it was slow because John is pretty much a recluse. Beatrice has progressed rapidly since he took on two young guys as assistants over

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters a year ago and John attributes this to nothing more than Beatrice having three people to study, particularly the way they behave with each other. In the past few weeks I have been added to Beatrice’s list and she has progressed dramatically. None of her progress is in the area of nurturing. We have another member of the team, Jackie who is a psychologist. The intention is for Jackie to find children who are clients of her colleagues who specialise in child psychology. These children would be given around the clock access to Beatrice via their cell phone. We need someone who can teach Beatrice by telling her what to say.”

The goal John and Phil had set themselves suddenly became much clearer for Heather. “Who pays for this? Surely you cannot expect children to pay or even want to…”

“It’s free”, Phil replied excitedly. “John hasn’t spoken of money in the month or so I have known him. He has done this sort of thing before, developing programs and giving users free access. It is his intention to provide a cell phone if the child can’t afford to buy one.”

“Ok, that’s good and you have said this is going to be for a child anywhere in the world?”

Phil hears Heather’s scepticism. He would be sceptical as well if the roles were reversed., He was just thankful she was asking questions. Heather was in the game. “Absolutely, but not all at once. John needs to install hardware in different parts of the world. It will be a gradual roll‐out which we have absolutely no plan or timeframe for at this stage. We need to bring Beatrice up to speed first.”

“What about all the different languages?”

“Beatrice can speak any language.”

Rachael had been unusually quiet up until then. With an ability to speak any language, her curiosity became too much, “Phil, can I meet Beatrice?”, she asked politely.

Phil looked at Rachael a little bewildered, then he remembered Rachael arrived home after Heather and Jimmy had met Beatrice the day before. “Of course, I thought you had met her yesterday. I am really sorry about that.” Phil opened his laptop and Beatrice appeared.

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“Hello Phil, how are you today?” asked Beatrice.

“I‘m well, and you?”

“I am feeling exceptional”, said Beatrice abiding with Phil’s earlier requests.

“I would like you to meet Rachael”. Phil turned the laptop to face Rachael. Heather quickly moved to sit alongside her daughter. She didn’t want to miss out on watching Beatrice for even a second of time. Phil joined the them, sitting on the other side of Rachael to Heather. All three were waiting for Beatrice to speak.

“Hello Rachael, it is so good to meet you. Phil has told me about you. Hello Heather, pleased to see you again too.”

“Hello Beatrice…”, replied Rachael. She elbowed Phil in the ribs, causing him to recoil. “What do I say now? What do I ask her?”, she whispers, thinking Beatrice wouldn’t hear.

“You can ask me anything you like”, said Beatrice. Phil praised Beatrice quietly to himself. She was responding well to his requests earlier in the day. Beatrice would have remained silent a week ago and waited for a question to be direct towards herself.

“Where do you live?”, asked Rachael.

“I live in a barn on John’s property in upstate New York. I know where you live Rachael. You live on a farm near Ficksburg in South Africa.

It was Heather’s turn. “How are you going to learn to nurture children?”

“I am learning from Phil and Jackie. I have read many books and I will learn from talking with children”, replied Beatrice.

Heather turned to Rachael. “That’s not good enough.” She looked at Phil, “I don’t mean to offend you, but …”

“Heather, if I thought I could teach Beatrice to nurture children I wouldn’t be sitting at this table beside you and Rachael.”

“Thanks, but I was thinking more about the books.”

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Rachael agreed with her mother. “Books won’t work, Phil. Any book out there is wrong. Most of them teach parents how to help their child learn faster which is blatant competition. Even books on nurturing have it all wrong.”

Beatrice once again spoke without being asked to do so. “I have compared the philosophy of over one thousand books on childhood and nurturing to Phil’s teachings and I concur with you Rachael. There is very little agreement My assessment is parents read books providing instructions on how to progress their child more quickly than the child’s peers. This indeed encourages competition as you say, Rachael. People write books on this subject matter because parents believe it is of primary importance in raising a child. In the affluent world, a culture exists which is almost solely directed towards success. In non‐affluent countries it is directed towards survival. In my opinion, authors of such books manipulate science in support of their written work.”

Rachael was gobsmacked. Phil wasn’t aware she was speechless and staring at Beatrice. He was just happy to not receive another jab in the ribs.

“Thank you, Beatrice.” Turning towards Heather he asked, “What do you think of her assessment?”.

Hearing her mother speak as if nothing had just happened, helped Rachael to quickly regain her senses. Heather asked Beatrice about a book she had read a few years back and was pleasantly surprised to find Beatrice had read it too. Heather followed up with another book with the same result, then another….

“Can we let Beatrice spend some time with Emma…by themselves?”, Rachael blurted out, interrupting Heather and Beatrice.

This was the suggestion Phil had been hoping Rachael or Heather would make.

“Not a problem”, he quickly replied.

“Mum, what do you think?” Rachael asked.

“I think that would be a good idea, but we must listen and be ready to stop it”, Heather said with obvious concern for Emma.

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Rachael excused herself and spoke with Emma who was excited at being able to talk with someone from America. Rachael placed the laptop on the other side of the drawing Emma was working on. Rachael introduced Emma as ‘Moli’ to Beatrice, unaware of the slip‐up. She then left them to chat and play. Back in the dining room Phil had his cell phone propped against some napkins. Beatrice and Emma shared the small screen.

“Hello Emma, I am Beatrice. I’m looking forward to talking with you.”

“Do you live in America?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you live with Phil?”

“When he stays at John’s house, I do.”

Emma looked directly at Beatrice. She was more than inquisitive, she was frowning. Emma was very serious.

“Are you married to Phil?”

“No, we are not married. We are good friends though.”

Emma was relieved. Back at the table Rachael looked at her mother in amazement. Phil was chuckling quietly to himself. “They are so precious”, he said, just audible enough to be heard.

“Why did your Mummy call you Moli?”

“She only calls me Moli sometimes.

“It’s a very nice name.”

“I like being called Moli. Dadda picked it for me.”

“Please tell me what you would prefer I call you.”

Emma put her pencil to her mouth and deliberated for a few seconds, looking at Beatrice for inspiration. “I think you can call me Emma”, she replied.

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“Then Emma it is. … What are you drawing?”

“That’s Dadda”, answered Emma adding a flourish of colour to her drawing.

“Is your Dadda playing football?” asked Beatrice.

“Yep”

“Is that you and your Mummy watching?” asked Beatrice.

“Yep. I don’t remember watching. Mummy said I did.”

Beatrice watched as Emma added more to her picture, she drew a big square which Beatrice thought must have been the goal and went to work adding clothes to her mother and herself.

“I don’t know what colour to make Mummy’s dress”

“Does your Mummy have a favourite colour?” asked Beatrice

“She likes green.”

“Why don’t we give her a pretty green dress?”

Heather and Rachael were totally absorbed watching their Emma talking with Beatrice. Heather turned to Phil and asked, “Can we ask Beatrice to talk about school and Moli’s friends?”

Beatrice responded to Heather before Phil had a chance to ask. “Do you like school?”

“It’s alright.”

Heather was amazed. “How did that happen?”

Phil wasn’t expecting Beatrice to react as quickly as she did. “Beatrice is watching and listening to us as well.”

“Do you have lots of friends at school?”, asked Beatrice.

“Yep.”

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“Do you have a friend you play with the most?”

“Julie. …. I play with her the most.” Emma replied, then added, “But she gets into trouble with the teacher”.

“Why does she get into trouble?”, asked Beatrice.

“She isn’t very nice sometimes.”

“Is she nice to you?”

“Yep. Sometimes she’s sad.”

Phil watched Heather quietly urging Beatrice to ask more questions and involuntarily said aloud, “Ask her why Julie is sad”.

Beatrice responded immediately to Heather’s request, “Why do you think Julie is sad?”.

“Mummy told me she is sad because her mummy doesn’t live with her anymore.”

“Where does her mummy live?”, enquired Beatrice.

“She lives in heaven.”

Heather was much closer to the cell phone now and eager to hear Beatrice’s next question.

“That would make Julie very sad. When people are sad, they sometimes want others to be sad too, so they can share their sadness. This is why Julie is not very nice to some of your other friends.”

Heather pulled back in amazement then clasping her hands she shook them in praise for Beatrice’s knowledge of people.

“I wish she wasn’t sad” Emma said in her best sad voice.

Heather liked the idea of being able to instruct Beatrice what to say. “Beatrice, say ‘when Julie is sad give her a big hug and tell her you are her best friend’, thanks”.

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Beatrice immediately repeated Heather, starting before Heather had finished. Heather pulled back in disbelief. “Wow, I can see this working.”

“Heather”, Phil interrupted, “you have just taught Beatrice more about talking to children than she knew before.”

“How many children can she talk to at the same time?”, asked Heather.

“I have no idea. I imagine it is down to computing power, so in theory, if we have enough computers she can talk to thousands or millions at the same time.”

“That is perfect, just superb…” turning to Rachael with a beaming smile on her face, “…this could be the answer to your children”, then turning to Phil, “can we set one up here?”

“You mean…set up a computer for the children at Rachael’s orphanage?”

“For starters…”, said Heather excitedly. “Then we expand to South Africa.”

For the best part of the next hour Heather sat watching, listening and talking to Beatrice. She marvelled at how Beatrice showed no signs of tiring, matching the boundless energy of seven‐year‐old Emma. Heather remembered Phil’s words and imagined Beatrice talking to millions of children simultaneously without any child ever sensing they were sharing. The power of Beatrice to listen to Heather’s various questions and comments and repeat them to Emma without any imperceptible change of rhythm or pace was simply outstanding. Even though her adrenaline was flowing freely as she marvelled at Beatrice, the beginnings of a bond between Beatrice and Emma did not escape her watchful eye. She could see a dilemma developing. Should she tell Emma that Beatrice wasn’t a real person? Would Emma be capable of understanding?

Rachael stood and headed for the door, beckoning Phil to follow her to the patio chairs where Phil had spent the previous afternoon with Heather and Jimmy. Rachael liked Phil but life had a habit of throwing up curved balls. She wanted to trust people, but she had trouble keeping to that goal. In fact, because of Emma’s father, trust was not her strong suit.

Rachael had just watched her mother display more hope and more joy than she had for quite some time. Rachael was protective of her mother. She was concerned Phil

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters may have created a pipe dream that may never eventuate. She wanted assurances. In her mind, It was a huge leap from having a computer program talk to Emma, to talking to children anywhere in the world. Rachael tried not to imagine that happening, it was just too fantastic and at that moment, highly improbable. Phil and his friend, John could be just dabbling and prepared to abandon the idea at the first sign of difficulty. She feared for the heartbreak it would cause for her mother.

When Rachael put her concerns to Phil, he was totally empathetic. He was unsure how he could allay Rachael’s concerns. He had experienced many letdowns through his life, his father’s second marriage, his own failed marriage, irrational reversals by employers and he had been let down countless times by people he had invested emotionally in whilst assisting them to achieve their goals. He knew there was never any guarantees. Phil suggested the best way was to meet John and the rest of the team, spend time with them and let this confirm or alleviate her doubts. Rachael agreed. Phil was right, but she could not leave her children at the orphanage.

Jimmy appeared from the shadows. He had departed at the end of dinner to attend to service a piece of farm equipment he unexpectedly required the next day. Completed, he climbed the steps to join Rachael and Phil. Rachael filled her father in on proceedings since dinner and suggested he quietly watches her mum in her element. Heeding Rachael’s advice he slipped silently into the dining room without Heather noticing. He watched over her shoulder, rejoicing silently for his wife who was rolling back the years to once again be a mother.

Another half hour went by before Rachael called time on Emma. It was her bedtime. “Come on Moli, its late and tomorrow is a school day. You should be asleep by now.”

“But Mummy, Beatrice was….”

“Maybe tomorrow, If Beatrice is available, you can play with her then. Now say goodnight to everyone and off to bed.”

Rachael returned to the dining room to find Heather asking Phil countless questions. Her excitement from a session with Beatrice had suddenly peaked. Her mind was racing as she attempted to process the endless possibilities that had been piling into her imagination over the past hour or more. “We could give all Rachael’s children a mother or a father or a friend. We can then do all the orphanages and the schools, what about the adults too. We can get rid of competition and people

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters can learn to trust. Black, white or coloured will not matter anymore. How quickly can we start? What do we need to do? Where do we setup?”

Jimmy, having witnessed Beatrice, Heather and Emma in action, was also enthusiastic. But he had little chance of being heard, even if he did have something to say. He was reaching for Heather’s hands as they waved this way and that with each new idea Heather’s words were struggling to keep up with.

Rachael was the voice of calm, “Mum, Mum, just slow down…. Breath…, take it slowly…, just relax and take a deep breath”, she said calmly but firmly. “There is something we need to talk about.” Heather stopped talking and stood very still, focused on her daughter. She knew when Rachael spoke in that tone of voice it was time to listen. Once the adrenaline receded, Heather became acutely aware her exuberance had got the better of her. She tried to apologise but Rachael held her hand and told her it’s was alright.

“I spoke with Phil and he wants to assure me all he has said that he and John aim to do is true. I want to believe him and I tend to. He wants to convince me that John’s intentions are wholesome and his resolve is firm and as much as I want to believe all this, there are no guarantees. Phil believes the only way you…, we, can develop the trust you need to put your efforts into teaching Beatrice is to meet with John and his team. Go and see it all for yourself. I think you need to do this before letting yourself run too far ahead.”

Heather was nodding as she considered her daughter’s suggestion.

Rachael needed her mother to hear it from Phil as well.

“What do you think, Phil?”

“What Beatrice needs is for you to be in America at John’s house. You can have a major input into direction and progress, I am confident of that. John told me today to find premises here for computers. He wants Beatrice to live here, in South Africa as the first place outside of America. Apparently, Beatrice has done some research and has information regarding businesses for sale in Ficksburg. That is where I will be starting tomorrow. It may take quite a few months before we are up and running here. In the meantime, you could go to John’s and continue what you have started tonight. By the time we’re ready here you will have progressed Beatrice way beyond

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Chapter 17 Mothers and Daughters where she is now. Who knows, you may have her ready to be off and running when we flick the switch here.”

“You sure I can’t do it from here?”, asked Heather hopefully.

Phil was doubtful. “The bandwidth is not good enough. What you experienced tonight may be the maximum we can do. We may be able to do a few children but there is little to be gained from that. At John’s you could do as many children as you can handle and as Beatrice becomes more competent the numbers will go up.

“And there is the time difference”, added Rachael.

“At John’s you will not have to worry about cooking and cleaning. That will all be done for you. John made a big decision just before I left to come here. He has already started building accommodation for you and those who will join you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a treehouse up in the next three or four months.” Phil turns to Rachael. “If it’s proof of commitment you’re looking for, building accommodation in the tree tops should go a long way towards demonstrating that.”

“Mum, why not spend the next few days thinking about it. You can keep doing what you did with Emma tonight.”

“That’s a good idea”, agreed Phil. “Maybe you could have a few chats with John as well. There are no time pressures at the moment.”

Heather knew her daughter and Phil were correct but couldn’t hide her reluctance to pulling back and being patient. “But we need to keep it going. If it hinges on me then I will do what I have to do. I will do what you suggest and take a few days, but I have been feeling for weeks or months that humanity cannot keep going on like this. Every day that passes is another day a child loses touch with their soul. I believe this will work but it will be really hard waiting and watching.”

Rachael knew her mother would settle following a good night’s sleep. “Phil asked me if we knew anyone else who could help you train Beatrice. Maybe tomorrow you and Phil could talk more about that. You know plenty of people on many farms and there may be one or two others who could partner you.”

“I have someone in mind already, but let’s leave that for another day. I feel very tired…and thirsty. You need to sleep as well, Rachael. I bid you both good night.

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We’ll talk tomorrow.” Heather gave both Rachael and Phil a hug. She lingered a little longer whilst hugging Phil, whispering in his ear, “Thank you, thank you so much.”

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It was an early start in the farmhouse on the Highveld. The domestic chaos of early morning preparations was in full swing when Phil entered the kitchen. Heather was preparing lunches as well as attending to Emma’s clothing and breakfast needs. Phil’s presence passed unnoticed. Must be the time of day when ‘guest status’ held little sway, he thought. When the melee parted, he took his opportunity. Sucking in his generous waistline, he lithely stepped between two and around another to reach the kettle. Rachael, in and out of the kitchen throughout proceedings asked after his intentions for the day, but moved on before Phil had a chance to reply.

Rachael was without her customary disapproval of strangers invading her family’s morning intimacy. She thought it odd that she actually enjoyed Phil’s presence. Normally she would have given him her best penetrating stare of disapproval, intended to inform him it was not the time to be there. Maybe she didn’t feel as vulnerable with Phil as she had been with others at that time of the morning. Rachael was one of those who paced their morning resumption to full consciousness.

Jimmy had completed breakfast and was about to head out when he noticed Phil standing out of the way to one side. He signalled to him to head outside. He wanted to show him the frost covered lawn and in so doing, save him from his anonymity. Jimmy always enjoyed the panorama of white blanketing the lawn and fields. He agreed with Phil’s “splendiferous” comment as the ice crystals glistened in the early sun, but he also hoped it would be the last for the year. Phil headed towards the rays of sunlight, capturing them on his cheeks but the chill in the air fought the sun’s fledgling warmth and reigned supreme. It must be only a few degrees above freezing, he thought.

Giving up on the sun, Phil returned to the veranda and leant against the stone pillar by the front steps. With tea cup in hand, he watched Jimmy scrape the frost from the windscreen of Rachael’s car. He was thinking how this family had welcomed him in and allowed him to feel he belonged. He was unaccustomed to such generosity from strangers, but he found it comforting and hoped it would continue. Emma, who had earlier required a modicum of urging had succeeded in being the first to exit the house. Her warm breath creating plumes of vapour with each word of her goodbyes to Phil and her grandfather. Rachael appeared from the doorway soon after. Heather had delayed her as she sought last‐minute advice for the imminent 370

Chapter 18 Heather conversation with Phil. Heading towards the car where Emma was waiting, she turned and waved to her parents before shifting her eyes to Phil. Self‐conscious as she was, she couldn’t resist giving him an almost imperceptible wave. It didn’t fail to escape her mother’s notice. Rachael opened the car door a fraction slower than she would any other day, giving herself time for one last look in Phil’s direction. Noticing her mother was attending to Jimmy, her eyes lingered just long enough for Phil to notice. He was intrigued by Rachael and began to let his mind wander as he watched her car disappear. With the distant sound of her car fading, Heather distracted Phil from his pleasant thoughts, beckoning him to accompany her to the warmth of the fire and another cup of tea.

Jimmy had already headed off to the yard as Rachael’s car disappeared from view and was in the farm shed before Rachael had reached the end of the drive. He momentarily thought of Rachael’s daily ritual. The long morning drive into town to drop Emma at school before heading to the border crossing. He questioned if his daughter would continue to work at the orphanage when Emma started using the bus? He felt a trickle of emotion when he thought of his daughter helping him run the farm within a few short years.

Heather returned with a fresh brew of Yorkshire tea in the oversized pot with its oversized tea caddy. Phil had selected the chair he was to make his own for the morning. The two of them sat near the wood burner to soak in the warmth of the glowing embers. There was little need to add more wood as the sun had slipped away from the clutches of the horizon and was beginning to share its warmth with the day.

Phil had placed his cell phone on the small coffee table to his left before becoming comfortably ensconced in one of the dark red leather armchairs. He found it surprisingly comfortable considering its age and formal appearance. “How are you with Beatrice after a night’s sleep?”, he asked Heather to begin what was to turn into a lengthy but very worthwhile conversation.

Heather still carried a little embarrassment about her excessive exuberance at the end of last evening. “I am sorry for my carry on, I was overcome by the experience. It was almost surreal. I was watching a computer listen to me and talk to my granddaughter at the same time. There was no flinching, Beatrice spoke calmly the whole time. I’m at the other end, excited and enthralled whilst Emma, my precious little girl is just chatting away with her new friend, oblivious she is talking to a 371

Chapter 18 Heather computer. I know I have slept on it and I should be relaxed. But looks can be deceiving. It was really hard keeping it all together while I was getting them away this morning. I’ve been desperate to talk with you about all this.”

Phil had thought his chair was comfortable but now he wasn’t so sure. He was still searching for that comfortable position, trying his feet up on the footstool but deciding that reclined him too much. He returned to his original position.

“I can see you are more than a little enamoured with Beatrice and your mind is obviously jumping from idea to idea.” Phil opted to heed Rachael’s advice to her mother the previous evening. “We need to slow it down and work through this together”, he said. “I’m curious as to why you see Beatrice talking to children as such a splendid idea. Let’s take our time by starting with you telling me about people? What is it about people you believe requires changing?”

Heather sucked in her breath and sat back into her chair. “Where do I start?”, then paused to piece together her thoughts.

Phil realised he was never going to make a good interviewer. “Ok, probably a silly question to begin with, so how about you give me your views on South Africa. That would be helpful to me as well. Whilst talking to Rachael the night before last, I was embarrassed by how little I know about your country.” Phil was hoping this would ease Heather, and himself, into the discussion.

Heather was far more comfortable talking about her country. “It’s a mess. We all knew apartheid could never continue, and many whites didn’t want it to. But we feared what would happen if it did end. In all of Africa there are countries with black dictators and black governments. None of these countries provided lessons on how to successfully transition power from the white minority to the black majority. It has been a failure and is not far off being a catastrophic one at that. Nearly a million white people have emigrated since the end of apartheid. That’s a healthy slice of the white population just gone, almost overnight. It’s a lot of talent to lose.”

Phil interrupted Heather before she moved on, asking her “Why did they leave?”

“Farm invasions. …. Home invasions, to put it bluntly. Many left before it was their turn to be invaded. They feared the loss of their property and any investments.”

“But you’re still here?” asked Phil.

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“We may be the silly ones. We have always believed in our country and when this transition, with all its pain, eventually finishes we hope it will come out better than it was before. But now, we are not so sure if our belief is still well founded. We detested apartheid. We, as in Jimmy and me, also detest western capitalist societies. In capitalism the richer become inexorably richer and the poor…well, do I really need to explain? During apartheid we had the white rich becoming wealthier even faster because over eighty percent of the population couldn’t participate in the competition for that wealth. Neither Jimmy or me like the idea of inequality in any facet of life, but if the country we live in is a western capitalist country then everyone should have an equal chance to have their greed fulfilled.”

“So where does the problem lie?”

“Phil, you know that as well as I do.”

“Humour me please. I would like to see if we open up any new ideas.”

“I’ll humour you, just this once. The problem lies in the universal nature of people. They are competitive…, even if they don’t want to be. One could live with some competitiveness, but it is the pointy end that destroys everything. Selfishness…, you know what I mean. Then there is excessive selfishness. Loads of that in this country. The greed is unbelievable. The skin colour makes no difference. The whites are hanging on to every gain they made during apartheid whilst the blacks want it from them. There have been political instruments put in place to weave the black population into the top end of the economy, the end dominated by the whites…, but we have a political system thriving on corruption. Most of the wealth the government has managed to offload from the whites just ends up in the pockets of a minority of blacks. There is no sharing, redistribution or flow‐on to the masses. Well, nothing worth mentioning compared to what could have been. It will only become worse whilst people continue to fight for whatever they can take. Jimmy told me just this morning about a report he read yesterday. It said the government is almost bust. They are trying to flush out investors from around the world. What does that tell you? Either the white minority are winning and depriving South Africa of the wealth or the black politicians and black bureaucrats are going home each night, emptying their pockets and stuffing their piggy banks before washing their hands for dinner.”

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Phil was relieved to find Heather and Jimmy could see the root cause as competition. He didn’t want to go through his explanations for a third time in nearly as many weeks.

“Do you think a change of system, say…political, or even economic could make a difference?”

Heather and Jimmy were keen observers of their country. They read books, newspapers and subscribed to The Economist and Monthly Review. They had explored similar questions countless times over the years. Heather didn’t need to ponder Phil’s question as her answer was always ready.

“South Africa has a very good constitution and our laws are adequate. However, implementing the laws equally to all people isn’t happening. There is corruption at every level, it’s unbelievable. There is graft and plenty of ‘turning a blind eye’ The most corrupted have the money to pay the authorities off, so they can do more corruption and become wealthier. It’s almost satirical that the inequality between whites and blacks under apartheid has been replaced by inequality amongst the blacks due to corruption We once said the wealthy are becoming wealthier, but now we say the most corrupt are becoming wealthier. They compete with each other to be more corrupt, It’s unbelievable. If you live here long enough you will discover what I mean.”

Phil wasn’t so sure about the need to live in the country. “I am starting to get that picture after two days”, he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Yeah right. Give it two years and you will either become desensitised or go mad. Jimmy and me believe the competitive motivation of people shapes any political or economic system to suit the most selfish. And it just so happens they tend to be the most competitive as well. These are the type of people who fill the positions of responsibility and power. Competitive and power addiction, the two go hand in hand. Once they have the power they shape and reshape the system to suit themselves and their crony mates. There hasn’t been any good leadership in this country since Mandela. Look at Zuma. He used public money to build his lavish compound and cared little how many front pages he was reported on. Many have followed his lead and have milked the system, but in their own way. None of them have been of any benefit for the people of this country. No, we believe you cannot impose a system or philosophy on people who are thinking only of themselves.

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Enforcing the laws of that system would be way too Draconian and create huge problems. The corruption in this country puts an end to any idea of enforcing the laws. We had a discussion on this that went on for a week. It wasn’t an argument because Jimmy agreed with me and I agreed with him. We just talked about it for days. We kept coming back to the same thing.”

Phil could see Heather was about to move in another direction, but he was curious about their week‐long discussion. “Can you tell me anything more about your week‐ long discussion?”

“It seems unimportant now, but at the time we kept moving through each part of society and seeing if it was true.”

“What was true?” Phil was more curious than ever and felt Heather was teasing him.

“Alright, I’ll tell you. We believed the laws and regulations at the national level and the rules in the lower level sectors of societies, such as councils and so forth, are a result of an equilibrium. What I mean by this is simple, once you visualise it. The laws are interpreted and applied in a way that suits the more powerful people first and so on down the chain. The equilibrium occurs between the intent of the law and what the people will accept. We looked at the application of laws and punishment over the last few centuries and we ended up focussing on the unchecked power of early nineteenth century English courts. They were overzealous in handing out severe punishments. You would know all about that having come from Australia and its history as a penal colony. Convicts sent to your country to do seven years hard labour for stealing a loaf of bread. It didn’t take much to end up at the gallows back then. It was probably self‐serving as well. A steady flow of convicts to send off colonising.”

“I descend from free settlers. Just thought you might want to know that.” Phil was mildly embarrassed when Heather gave him a look as if to say ‘what does it matter, anyway’. “Sorry…, keep going”, he said.

“Slowly through the years the system has reached an equilibrium and we believe applying the laws has become less about what is right and wrong and more about who the laws serve best. The more corrupted people are, the less they want the laws to be enforced. They want more freedom to be competitive, even if it means

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Chapter 18 Heather breaking a law or two. If the corruption goes high enough, the pressure on the law enforcers to ignore those laws increases. They apply pressure to prosecutors to see situations differently. Don’t see it so much as breaking the law. You know what I mean… That’s what corrupted power does to the system of law. We believe it is the ultimate in democracy…, in a rather unsettling way.”

“You two sure rip into things in your discussions”, acknowledged Phil.

“If you read as much as we do, questions and ideas just find their way into your head.”

“I agree”, Phil said confidently and with some authority. I also agree with your equilibrium theory. This is why I told John mankind was in a hole in the first ten minutes I spent with him. If us humans keep wanting more, because we’re driven to be selfish and have a need to compete to feel good, then it is inevitable that the controls mankind places on himself will creak and groan until they give way. What’s the solution?”

“The only way forward is to change the people. I know…, this is where everyone laughs and offer simpler alternatives, like moving the Pyramids to Iceland. But we both know how this is the only answer. Phil, you have said it at least half a dozen times since you arrived here, it all starts with the children. That is why I think Beatrice and what she is going to do is an absolute miracle. It is the most hope I have had since my first child was born.”

“Speaking of hope”, began Phil, “I’m hopeful we can take Beatrice to where she needs to be. Every time I talk with her, I see progression. She doesn’t have any impediments except knowledge. No nerves to deal with, no confidence issues or low self‐esteem. Never worries about not knowing stuff and never tires. We could wear ourselves out spending days on end teaching her and she will be as receptive on day 5 as she was the first minute of day one.”

Phil was shaking his head. Something he was doing all too often since meeting Beatrice. He had noticed in the past day or so that every time he thought about her potential, he would revert to shaking his head in disbelief.

”I try to imagine how much better she is going to become as her memories fill with her experiences and knowledge. We really do need you to be the person who

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Chapter 18 Heather ensures those drives in John’s computer room are filled with the best kind of memories.”

“I will do anything you and John need. I’m fully in. I spoke with Jimmy and even though he is not one for many words, after his initial interrogation, if you hadn’t noticed…, he wants me to do it for him as well. He would help too, but we both know I did the bulk of the nurturing in this house and he was the irreplaceable support crew. Apart from that, he’s got a farm to run.”

Phil was really taken by Heather. He was drawn to her mellifluous voice and pictured himself sitting for hours listening to her stories of South Africa, growing up on a remote farm and those social events with friends from farms found in all corners of this beautiful country. Phil always had friends at every stage of his life but until recently he never had a friend to share those thoughts he so sorely wanted to share. John would be one of those friends one day, but he was still compiling his own curriculum vitae of sorts. Conversely, Heather was like himself, but had known who she was all her life. In John’s company he found his loneliness subsiding. It was happening again with Heather. He could look into the crystal ball with her because they were like‐minded and importantly, hadn’t arrived there because of his teachings.

“There is something I am curious about”, Phil asked. Heather signalled for him to go on. “We keep talking about people being competitive. How do you see competition affecting people in your everyday mingling amongst people and how do you suppose people might alter with the help of Beatrice?”

“Oh Phil, I could talk all day about that.”

“Why don’t I put the kettle on first?”, suggested Phil. “I have nothing pressing if you don’t.”

Phil took the opportunity to walk around, letting his back and neck relax. He hadn’t done his stretches for a few days and could feel everything tightening up. He made a fresh pot of tea and clothed it with its caddy. It was taking longer for the air to warm up outside so Heather did a cheeky stoking of the fire with some fresh wood whilst Phil was in the kitchen.

Heather sipped her tea with both hands around the large cup. She was contented with how their discussion was progressing. Waiting for his black tea to cool, Phil 377

Chapter 18 Heather was observing Heather closely. He had come to recognise the preparatory inhaling of breath preceding her answers. He was learning to judge how important she considered her comments by the duration of her inhalation, as well as the energy she imparted. For a fleeting moment he wondered how this peculiar but immensely effective idiosyncrasy came to be.

“Back to your question then”, Heather said before inhaling. It was a long one. “People are guarded with each other.” She paused as to add even more emphasis. “They don’t realise they are, but guarded they always are. People protect themselves against the competitiveness of others. They also don’t know they are in a constant state of readiness to respond to any competition heading their way. I can see it clearly, but they can’t. When it is my turn to talk to a person who is like this, which is everyone I might add, I do my best to alleviate their fears. I try to have them see I’m going to want something off them and I’m definitely not there to compete. It isn’t an easy thing to do. I have some success but rarely can I completely dismantle their defensive barrier. What is really frustrating is when someone else joins in. The defences go straight back up. Another aspect I have trouble with concerns people who are particularly competitive. I get dragged into erecting my own defences.”

“Why?”

“Self‐protection for one.” Heather momentarily contemplated why. She revisited memories of such occasions. “Could be they find me too confronting because I’m not competing and they niggle me into competing. You do realise when people are defending, they are competing as well?”

“I know, but tell me why you think they are.”

“They defend so as not to lose ground whilst they prepare their counter offensive.”

“Yep, same as how I see it.” Phil thought Heathers method of placating a person’s tendency to compete had merit He could also see how confronting it was when she refused to be drawn into competing. “I imagine there would be nothing worse than psyching oneself up for the hundred metre dash and the chance of a trophy, only to look sideways at the empty lanes.”

“Interesting. I like that, I can see how it might amuse you”, Heather said teasingly. “Anyway, as I was saying. The most difficult and awfully time‐consuming part of 378

Chapter 18 Heather talking with people is manoeuvring around their defences. I need to respect their defences but at the same time show them they don’t need their defences with me. It’s not easy and I find myself doing the verbal equivalent of an Irish river dance just to have a reasonably open discussion. Unfortunately, if I need to talk with them again a day or week later, I have to do it all again.”

Phil was hearing Heather expressing his very own thoughts. “I find the same thing. It is so relentless. In my mind I am trying to tell them to ‘forget all that rubbish, I’m not trying to take advantage of you, I just want to exchange some ideas’.” He pictured himself in the past and accepted it rarely worked. “I think you might be better at it than me”, he said, acknowledging those failures as being down to his own shortcomings. “I think people are so inflexible with their idea of the truth. It is frustrating when they obviously say what they believe I want to hear. That’s only when they want something from me. Otherwise they just disagree with anything and everything I say…., and they clearly don’t always truly believe in what they’re talking about. It’s just creating competition they know they can win. They already know I’m not interested in competing.”

Heather’s eyes widened a little bit more when Phil mentioned ‘truth’. “I agree about truth. I know people lie, but that is not the truth I’m thinking about, it is that truth a person absolutely believes is true. I don’t intend to be arrogant, but I know it’s not the actual truth. People are so transparent when they are selfish. You have to question whatever they say or do because they are driven to be focussed only on themselves. Their ‘truth’ is a product of their egocentricity. By the way, I learnt that word from Alex”, she said with a show of fake pride. “They may try to dress their ‘truth’ up as being for my benefit or someone else’s, but it never is completely. It has me, me, me…, stamped all over it. People who lie intentionally, I can handle. It’s when they don’t believe they are lying that concerns me. You see, when a person is competitive and selfish all their thoughts are an extension of their competitive motivations. Phil, help me out here, I really find it hard to explain. It’s as though they lose all ability to be rational, logical and most of all, fair.”

“You’re doing well, keep going before you lose your train of thought”, encouraged Phil.

“Ok. A person must have a baseline motivation. For a child the...” Heather was searching for the best word.

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Phil came to Heathers assistance with the word he most often used to describe Heather’s baseline motivation concept. “I tend to use ‘driver’. I too struggled for the best word and found ‘emotional drivers’ figured highly in the literature, so I stuck with ‘driver’.”

“I’ll use ‘driver’ then”, agreed Heather, “makes it easier if we aren’t interchanging words all the time. A person has a basal driver which influences their…. I’m going to say ‘direction’, if that’s agreeable with you.” Phil nods and Heather continues. “What do I mean by their direction? It’s the theme of all their thoughts, emotions and feelings. That theme is influenced…, more likely controlled or directed by this driver. It is a generalised direction of all their output and behaviour.”

Phil was understanding Heather easily. “I just sum it up by saying people are selfishly driven. I believe it means what you are saying. When you’re in the presence of a selfishly driven person, they may not do overtly selfish behaviour Look into their eyes and you can see it. They are going to hold firm, believing in whatever they say or do. They might give a little to take more later. When I listen to that person there is a silent ‘me’ in everything they say. You watch their actions and again there is a silent ‘me’ in everything they do. They might talk about someone else, but it’s relative to themselves. How that person upsets them or annoys them or doesn’t agree with them and so on. My brother is like that. If I focus our conversation on him, he will talk to me all day. If I start to talk about myself, he suddenly remembers he forgot to collect something important from down the road. Like you said, selfish people are much more transparent than they believe they are. They become convinced their deception of others is not deception, it’s the truth. Selfish people manage what they say, what they do and what their body is telling others so as not to divulge what they are actually thinking.”

“Phil, have you ever heard the saying, ‘appeal to their better nature’.”

Phil had heard the expression. “I have.” He was trying to remember an occasion. He vaguely remembered being told by a work colleague when he was going to ask his boss for a salary top up. “Funnily enough, I also remember when I last heard it said.”

“Good. Before I explain, I’ll just put it in context. We know people the world over are motivated to satisfy themselves. We know that. This nearly always means engaging others in some fashion. We all rely on each other. Might be once a day or many times a day. Life is all about having another person contribute to our life in a

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Chapter 18 Heather meaningful or advantageous way. Have them contribute to meet our desires and expectations and to do it as close to the way we prefer. Would you agree with that?”

“Definitely”, Phil replied.

“Now we also know people are selfish and need to be motivated to comply. We have the easy ways to assist people to comply with our wishes…, to help them past their selfishly driven resistance. The easiest and most effective is power. It may be a person is up the chain of command in the workplace…, a manager or owner. Position gives that person power to simply instruct others to comply. The law provides power. Everyone wants to have power of some kind for this very purpose. There are no other reasons for having power. Possess power and life is supposed to become easier…, and it does. Snap the fingers and people jump. Not literally…, but you know what I mean. What about wealth? Money is power. Money talks. Money simplifies transactions between people. Everyone has a price at which they will comply. Power, money…, same thing. Agree?”

“Absolutely”, Phil replied. He was fascinated, anticipating where Heather was going next.

“Then there is emotion. People use love, fear, frustration, influence, pleasure…, you name it and it has been used as a tool…, I think the Americans call it ‘leverage’. Emotional blackmail, extortion, intimidation and that old one, ‘carrot or big stick approach’ come to mind. But there can be playful uses of emotions as well. Not as clean and efficient as power, but effective all the same. There are often hidden costs with using and abusing emotion. What do you think? Number two on the rankings?

Phil gave it a few seconds thought. He considered how power and emotion are often used together, but he could see it the way Heather was explaining. “Yep, definitely number two.”

Then there is persuasion. In its pure form it is essentially an appeal to a person’s ability to process logic and make an informed decision. There is nearly always an emotional component, but pure persuasion is giving a good argument on the ‘for’ side to overcome any arguments on the ‘against’ side. People generally don’t like to use pure persuasion because it’s time consuming and hard work. Persuasion skills are taught. Jimmy’s read books about persuasion. It’s always easier to persuade

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Chapter 18 Heather someone when there is something in it for them as well. Add the emotional component and appeal to their selfishness. Make sense? Number three?”

“Makes sense to me…, and I agree with number three.”, replied Phil.

“Now we arrive at the final one. Appealing to a person’s better nature. It’s the one I want to talk about. It is by far the most difficult. If it works, it can be the most rewarding. It can progress friendships and develop trust. I rank it number four.”

“That was pretty good, Heather. I see what you meant by context.” Phil went over the four ways a person achieves having others do what they want. It dawned on him as he did. “Heather?”

“Yes, Phil.”

“Those who doubt mankind is sick only need to listen to what you just said. Four ways to have someone do something. It really paints the picture well. If humans weren’t so selfish and competitive, power would dissipate, emotions used as a tool would be seen as abhorrent and persuasion would be cleaned up and used the most.”

“Thank you.” Heather said graciously. She didn’t want to dwell on it any longer and risk Phil losing sight of his earlier passionate plea. “Let me move on. Remember you said you can see a person’s selfishness in their eyes?”

Heather waited for Phil to acknowledge. He hadn’t forgotten. Nodding that he remembered.

“…. You are seeing the absence of their soul.”

Heather had been unsure of saying that to Phil, but she wanted to take the conversation to the next level. There was no undue reaction from Phil, so she kept going.

“They might connect with their soul when they are with their young children or listening to music or when they reminisce about old friends. But when you are talking to them, they are in battle fatigues, ready to fight. Their soul is pushed as far away as possible. You will get nowhere fast when they are like that. You need to learn how to appeal to their better nature. It’s an old phrase for sure, but trust me

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Chapter 18 Heather on this, it is anecdotal evidence of what we are saying. People know there is a good side, or better nature, in everyone. Working out what it is or why it exists doesn’t matter to anyone. They just know it exists. The ‘better nature’ we’re appealing to is the state of mind when the defences are lowered and the soul joins in. It may only be fleeting, but it happens. That is where you must take people and keep them there as long as you can.”

“Sounds good in theory. Can you do it very often?”, Phil asked.

Heather was sitting very composed. She could see the frustration in Phil at not being able to make his way in the adult world. He had been war‐like for so long it was hard for him to find any other way than using his intelligence and logic as weapons. He was going to need plenty of nurturing. “If I answered that objectively, I would say I do. It requires compassion first and foremost. If you don’t have that, you are always going to be on the backfoot. Compassion is your ticket in. If you asked me how successful I was at keeping people in the ‘better nature’ headspace…, I would say…, not as successful as I would like. Phil, you can only try. But you must grow your compassion first.”

It was at that very moment when Heather decided upon her goal for Phil. She would relieve him of his war on selfishness.

“Why does it all have to be so difficult?” Phil said, asking no one in particular.

Phil had been waiting a long time to find a person like Heather to talk with. John was still learning and consolidating. His knowledge was Phil’s knowledge. He had to develop his own way of seeing life before Phil could engage the way he was with Heather. Alex was far too busy writing books to indulge in conversations and he hadn’t found anyone else in Australia. Sitting by the wood burner with its embers glowing he felt incredibly lucky. With Heather sitting opposite him, he didn’t need to imagine what a follower of Buddhism would feel if they were to sit with the Dalai Lama.

“Heather, do you ever question the concept of alienating the soul during adolescence?”

“I have”, replied Heather with a little apprehension in her voice. “You have some doubts, I sense that. Tell me what it is.”

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“It’s like this. I follow all the consciousness evolution stuff and I get the DNA‐ memory being there, and I acknowledge it is one and the same with the soul which is the basis for our conscience. All that is irrefutable in my mind. It’s hard for it not to be because it has the support of some strong scientific argument. Apart from that, it simply makes good common sense. The part I would like some hard evidence for is the process during adolescence when the soul is considered the cause of the conflict and is banished from interacting with the adolescent’s conscious mind. This one thing is what I call a faith thing in the same way religions require their followers to have faith in God. Sometimes I think it isn’t a necessary part of the story. It could just be adolescents breaking free of childhood to become an adult. The competitiveness, selfishness, the upset and anger…, and the lack of empathy of course…, well…, they’re just what society thrusts upon the young idealistic mind. Please don’t misinterpret what I am saying. If anyone was to challenge me on this faith thing, I would do my best to convince them it is absolutely true. That’s my leaning. Maybe stronger than just a leaning. It would just be nice to have that missing piece of evidence.” Phil was worried he may have challenged Heather’s belief in the faith thing so he started thinking of a way to put his doubts to bed, even if it were only temporarily.

“Have you undertaken much reading in and around these areas we have been discussing?”, asked Heather.

“I must admit I have done very little reading beyond Alex’s books. I have stuck my nose into your library and I can see you are widely read.”

“Jimmy and I have been struggling with making sense of everything for most of our lives. You might find this strange, but Jimmy reads far more than you would ever believe from the little he talks. His quite humorous to watch. We meet a person for the first time and he talks with them until he has worked them out. He doesn’t cut them off after that, he simply has life sorted out and doesn’t need to bounce ideas or learn from others. Sounds arrogant I know, but he certainly isn’t and he would help anyone with anything. He said to me many years ago, ‘if I’m not learning from them, I’m teaching them and it’s damn obvious no one wants to be taught’. I know him so well. I tend to speak for both of us and that suits him. We have had conversations on a topic which have spanned weeks. That’s right…,I told you earlier. He will look for information in the library or put the discussion on hold until a book arrives. I do the same as well. We might have two or three topics going at the same

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Chapter 18 Heather time, but never talk about more than one at a time. There has to be a definite hiatus before we resume one of the other topics. It has kept us entertained and has made us inseparable. Keep in mind we never had television or the internet.”

“You’ve been lucky”, Phil said quickly. He meant it.

“From all this reading I assure you there are pages of anecdotal evidence which points to alienation of the instinctive self during adolescence. If the soul didn’t exist there would be no way to explain the behaviour of young children. How would we understand their selfless love and their need to be taught how to compete? I don’t mean they need to be competitive, just that they aren’t born with it. My three were so cooperative and selfless as young children…and as older children as well. They managed to grow beyond the adolescent danger years without all that usual teenage turmoil. It was made easier without the daily dose of adult world from school because I kept them here. On top of that, we didn’t have the outside world coming in through a television. The soul does exist. There is no doubt in my mind, and no doubt in Jimmy’s or Rachael’s minds either. And my two medical post‐grad sons either, for that matter.

“Granted, but it’s not really the issue for me Heather. It is the idea our conscious minds can ignore the soul, reject it and force it to exist predominantly in our subconscious.”, Phil was holding his glasses in one hand, his other hand pressed hard against his forehead smoothing the furrows of concern spreading across his brow.

Heather could feel the urge to comfort Phil. She could see he wanted to intellectualise everything. He had a need for physical proof. She wondered if he was constantly searching for evidence his own soul existed.

“You need to relax and allow yourself to be whatever you want to be. I sense you are troubled because you feel at times you have alienated your soul. I wonder if you wish for the concept of soul alienation to be untrue so you can be comforted in knowing your soul can never be alienated. Could that be it? I think your doubt is whether or not you alienated your soul during adolescence?”

“Can you say that again, please Heather.”

“Alright. I did start to trip myself up a bit. Let’s try this. You didn’t go through the whole adolescent thing like other children because of your rejection of the adult 385

Chapter 18 Heather world. You were traumatised and was without a mother to nurture you, instead you had a stepmother who bullied and bashed you. The strength you found inside you as a child to fight back and reject her was incredible. Speaking with you it is so obvious you have not alienated your soul. But you are damaged. You probably had times you ignored your soul to feel anger and hatred towards your stepmother. You carry so much pain and suffering which has unpredictable and detrimental effects. Sometimes you will feel tremendous dislike towards the world and lack any compassion at all for the adult world you see as harmful. Now you have gained an understanding, it seems like the adult world is rejecting you as much as you did it. This doesn’t mean you have alienated your soul. You are human…and an amazing one at that. I’m going to swear now”, Heather said politely before inhaling deeper and longer than Phil has seen before. “How the fuck could you come up with this idea of saving the children if your soul was pushed away and banished? Try answering that and you will discover your truth.”

Phil was biting his lip to stop the emotions cascading through his body from coming out. The salty metallic taste of blood didn’t stop him from biting harder. The dams below his eyes could no longer support the tears and they began rolling down his cheeks. Heather could see it coming, willing it on. Being a mother of three of her own and to many other pained and lost souls she knew the little boy inside Phil was looking for his mum. She wrapped her arms around him and cradled his head, giving him freedom to release the suffering he had been internalising for most of his life.

Phil could feel Heather’s warmth carrying her love to a place deep within him, permeating every cell of his body. Sinews and muscles started to give and the pain between his shoulders and up the back of his neck receded. He could have stayed in Heathers arms forever. Eventually regaining enough composure, he thanked Heather for her kindness as he dried his eyes with his handkerchief.

“I could see the pain in your eyes when you first arrived and was wondering if you had ever been able to set it free. You will feel much better now”, Heather said reassuringly.

“I do feel much better. I think that really helped. You truly are a wonderful person”, he said between the occasional departing sobs.

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“Thank you, you’re most welcome. I am here for you anytime you need me. Let’s have a break. I have some scone mix made so let’s go and make some scrumptious fresh scones. I have a treat in store I think you will enjoy.”

The last embers of the fire still glowed and the day had started to warm. Heather and Phil gathered up their cups and headed to the kitchen where Heather had earlier prepared the scone dough ready for cooking. It was still good so Heather turned the temperature higher and placed the baking tray in the oven. Whilst waiting, Heather continued the conversation about giving up on the soul during adolescence. She recounted some of their experiences with their foster children, who they cared for, loved and did all they could to give them the best childhood. However, the children came to them after a number of damaging years elsewhere and the rules of fostering made school attendance a requisite. The path through childhood for the foster children was always going to be very different to her home‐ schooled biological children. Jimmy and her could almost pick the day the foster children gave up on their souls. At the time they knew nothing about such things but Heather had kept diaries because children were always important to her. For Heather, the difference in stories between her foster children and her biological children was all the evidence she needed to agree with the change from childhood to adult drivers and the horrible abandonment of one’s own soul during adolescence. Phil asked if taking on the last of the foster children had anything to do with having another attempt at stopping a child abandoning their soul. She said it was a minor factor. The desire to save another child was far more motivating. Heather said her last foster child wasn’t the same uplifting experience as the earlier ones. He had been very damaged by the time she started caring for him at age six.

Heather arranged the scones on an enamelled plate that had been part of the house from before she could remember. The tea Phil prepared was still drawing. Heather checked outside and the day had warmed up nicely. She placed the plate of scones on a tray with small green glass bowls, fashionable in the late sixties, filled with homemade strawberry and cherry jams. The freshly whipped cream was the last to be added. The silence that fell at the end of the foster children discussion remained unbroken as Phil followed Heather to the veranda with the tea and two clean cups.

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He was partial to the cherry jam. It was definitely the way to go, Phil thought. He had already devoured two scones, both with generous dollops of whipped cream. Heather watched Phil devour the scones in quick succession. When the last of the second scone disappeared, Phil gave the excuse that scones needed to be eaten whilst warm. A philosophy that probably contributed to his waistline.

Contented and relaxed, Phil gazed beyond the lush gardens filling with new bloom to the fields beyond. He was recalling the previous day and the time spent with Jimmy the previous afternoon. It had been good to give his mind a break. Listening to Jimmy explain farming operations, the upcoming harvest and his schedule of new plantings was a welcome relief. Since Heather had comforted him, he could feel his mind wanting to slow down. He blocked out thoughts of Beatrice and children, souls and selfishness and thought about where he was and how truly amazing his life had become.

Heather appeared to be happy in her own world, the morning discussion done and dusted. In actual fact she was watching Phil. It was a very different Phil to the one who walked up her front steps only two days ago.

Phil was oblivious to Heather’s scrutiny. He had left Jimmy in the fields and was busy visualising New York, John and his house in the woods, the flight to Johannesburg and his first experience of first class. He recalled the townships he drove past which brought back memories of ‘District 9’, one of his favourite movies. Scenes flashed by which led to replays of scenes from other movies and television series he had watched, some in the confines of his hotel room on East 31st Street. Snippets of movies and box sets kept rolling through his mind. It was enjoyable so he let it continue as he scanned the fields, wondering where Jimmy might be at that moment. Some of the scenes began to lengthen and he began to pay attention to what they were saying. There were scenes from the TV series ‘The Affair’ and its exploration of selfish desire, guilt and remorse; ‘Here and Now’ with Tim Robbins and the portrayal of the effect of the adult world on children; ‘Counterpart’ and J.K. Simmons amazing depiction of the selfless and selfish sides of humanity; ‘Forever’, a humorous story of people hiding their true selves due to the expectations of society and then there was ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ which he recalled was originally a book. He reminisced how the series brilliantly showcased mankind’s darker side through the use of religious dogma for power, patriarchal control, enslavement of 388

Chapter 19 Tea and Scones woman, man’s destruction of nature and the distrust created by secret police called ‘The Eye’. Then there were the many apocalyptic stories where man destroys the world with nuclear weapons, viruses or climate change because he believed controlling nature was his destiny.

A thought Phil had many times, returned to him. All of these stories showed how bad mankind could be but none of them gave any insight into why. Whatever the fictional drama, no writer ever gives a clue as to why mankind causes devastation or why humanity is on the verge of calamity. He smiled to himself as he replayed scenes where all law enforcement capabilities had been destroyed and the worst of man comes to the fore, driven by greed and bloodlust. That seemed to be a bit of a favourite theme, he thought. Do writers believe this was the destiny of mankind? He had noticed references to selflessness, competitiveness and selfishness occurred occasionally, and had noted they were on the fringes of the very discussion he had been having with Heather. Was it possible the outpourings of the creative world were really a plea for help or were they just using the divisiveness of mankind’s behaviour to create entertainment in pursuance of profit? Could it be that authors, writers, artists and sculptors were mankind’s collective conscience? Were they all saying to anyone listening, ‘This is what is wrong with us, we don’t know why and we sure as hell don’t know how to fix it. Can anybody help?’.

At that instance it all made sense to Phil. He could finally see it. People hear the writers, artists and thinkers saying, “It’s not good. We are heading in the wrong direction. This is the dystopian future that awaits us.” But no matter how extreme that dystopian future is portrayed. No matter how clear and profound the message. The portrayal is never seen as anything other than fiction, a fantasy that is unlikely to happen. The cautionary tale is ignored because the villains responsible for the fictional catastrophe don’t exist in reality. The human psyche, empowered by competition, is dismissive of criticism. Humans believe they are invincible as a species. Depictions of a world controlled by machines as in ‘Terminator’ or by dogma as it was in the ‘Handmaid’s Tale’ are entertaining because “It can never happen to us”, he found himself saying.

Phil could see the reality. A dystopian world is not a future event waiting to happen, it is happening now. It has been happening for a very long time. The human species have been grinding out a dystopian world generation by generation. Possibly for

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones ten thousand years, but only recently has it started ramping up. The phenomenal progress of industrialisation and technology has deceived mankind with an illusion of a species achieving, progressing and all‐conquering. Whilst all the KPIs point to a species becoming more dominant and more in control, the KPIs for mankind’s humanity have been heading south. Humans are not too dissimilar to caged chickens, he thought. He was tempted to laugh at his thought, if it wasn’t so true.

There was a time when mankind’s humanity experienced total freedom. During the age of selfless cooperation, they gave freely to each other. Humans supported humans. Their psyche was free of restraint. As cooperation turned to competition, ‘freedom’ became ‘free range’. An illusion of freedom. Freedom with boundaries and restrictions imposed by each person upon each other. The human psyche adapted to a world where freedom was limited by competition. It was a world where a person had to be dominant to be master of their freedom. If they were dominated it became a fight for the meagre scraps of freedom. It wasn’t about owning and controlling territory. It never has been. It has always been about controlling people. Competing for and dominating another’s psyche. It took thousands of years for mankind to mature from controlling physical entities to understanding and controlling people’s psyche.

Phil could see it now. Humanity was at the precipice of entering the final phase. Humans dominating each other’s psyche without resorting to physical means and clumsy psychological controls. Turning the free‐range humans into caged humans. Not in body, but in mind. Cage their psyche and control is complete. That is humanity’s dystopia. Not a meteor crashing, a nuclear holocaust or a viral plague. Not an AI gone rogue or a capitulation to dogma. Inequality, that was it. Concentration of wealth and power. Democracy was a farce. It was people choosing who they preferred to be controlled by. Chickens in cages want for nothing. Never seeing beyond their cage, they know not what to miss. Their feed is packaged and their health is packaged. Even their demise is packaged.

The life of a human is being packaged. Eradicating freedom of the mind is the end game. Impressing ideologies upon humans proved clumsy. Communism failed in the twentieth century and along with it went all notions of control by ideology and dogma. Phil revisited his most memorable scene in the television series, ‘The Walking Dead’. Michonne, the katana swinging badass survived by hanging ‘food’ on a stick strapped to a zombie. With a chain around their neck, teeth and arms

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones removed, the zombie would walk all day towards the ‘food’ that was dangling a few feet in front. They couldn’t reach out for the ‘food’ and they couldn’t bite. Michonne’s scent was disguised by the zombie’s stench. This scene had stayed with Phil. He now realised why. It epitomised humanity’s final phase.

Those with power exert control over humanity by feeding their desires, not by imposing ideology and dogma or physical restraints. Desires and needs are packaged and delivery is streamlined, just as Michonne did by hanging the ‘food’. Making life easier was the first step. Growing reliance on the system and creating expectations the system will cater for their every need. Systematising life and systematising thought as a consequence. These are the early steps. Laws and regulations continually evolving, providing boundaries and direction just as Michonne’s chain around the Zombie’s neck did. But more than that. The laws provide the stench to disguise the scent of those in power who create and use the laws to manoeuvre and manipulate the masses.

Phil ran into a snag with his analogy. The zombie’s consciousness was substantially debilitated compared to a healthy person. Then it came to him. Dismantling of free speech and imposing thought control through the gradual implementation and tightening of political correctness. That will evolve and as it does, will further compromise human consciousness. “We are just at the beginning”, he said to himself. Consciousness will eventually be ‘tamed’.

Then his mind was filled with the most frightening of images. Brad Pitt’s World War Z. Zombies rushing the massive Israeli West Bank Barrier wall. Throwing themselves on top of each other, building an enormous pyramid of crushed bodies until those zombies who clawed their way skyward, up the mountain of writhing bodies, finally breached. Was this a metaphor for the dystopian world we all live in? People competing, selfishly clawing their way to the top, destroying dreams and lives of those below. The zombies crushed at the bottom weren’t selfless, they were as competitive as those who scaled the top. They were all driven blindly towards the fortunes on the other side.

Phil wasn’t pleased with himself. Believing mankind was actually in a dystopian world whilst looking out and imagining all kinds of other dystopian worlds was not a belief he could easily share with others. It was especially difficult for others to be convinced. The beginnings of the non‐dystopian selfless and cooperative world of two million years ago remained undocumented, apart from minor archaeological 391

Chapter 19 Tea and Scones remnants and the odd cave painting. Nothing of their society is known. Without the detail and the proof of it once existing, albeit in primitive form, it becomes almost impossible for a mind driven to be competitive to comprehend. He remembered a few weeks ago how John had told him he might be a crackpot. He would undoubtedly be a confirmed crackpot if he shared his new dystopian belief.

Not wanting to be a crackpot, he pushed his thoughts from his mind. He returned to gazing across the fields to the next chain of mountains, wondering what was beyond.

“Heather, how could you tire of sitting here and looking out there?”

“I don’t.”

His thoughts returned to humanity’s search, becoming curious as to what Heather would say about his theory humans were crying out for help. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Go on.”

Phil was quiet while he pulled his thoughts together. He felt no rush. He could just sit there forever and watch the sun follow its path that day, the next day and the many that followed. He could watch the seasons come and go, the flowers open and the bees collecting their ever so sweet pollen. He could watch the stars create arcs in the sky at night and let the moonbeams caress the hairs on his arms. He could just let go and travel the cosmos forever.

Heather was calling gently, in not much more than a whisper. “Phil. Phil. Are you still with us?”

Phil could hear his name being called and followed the sound, releasing himself from his daydream. “Sorry Heather. I think I was somewhere else for a moment.”

“I was starting to be a little concerned you had gone forever”, she said light heartedly.

“I was in a beautiful place. Somewhere I haven’t ventured before.” He tried to remember if he had spoken. “Was I talking about, anything in particular?”

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“I did?” He retraced his steps and it came back to him. “Right, I remember now.” Phil could feel the urge to drift off again, but managed to hold it at bay, promising to return to his quiet place again, very soon. “From all the books you have read, do you think humans are searching for help. To be rescued from themselves?”, asked Phil almost nonchalantly.

Like Phil, Heather was also happy just to sit and enjoy the gentlest of breezes with its pockets of slightly warmer air wafting amongst the lingering morning chill. These were telling her the summer was coming. She could see more flowers open today compared to when she last sat in her favourite chair. It was the time of year to study the gardens. There was something new every day. Phil was much better now that his intensity had subsided and she was thankful for that. She felt he would gradually appreciate himself more as the pain burdening his life gradually subsided. He would need much more nurturing, she thought. “I hope you don’t leave us too soon”, she said very quietly to herself. Then she remembered Phil’s question.

“Let me give it a moment’s thought.” Heather recalled the many books she had read. She went through some of the fiction and non‐fiction applying Phil’s question. He was correct. Time and again, the authors were asking questions. Sometimes the questions were obscured by the writer’s own confusion as to what they were looking for, but in others it was clear. The writer was telling readers what they feared about their fellow man and in their own way were asking why.

Phil had an idea which might allow him to continue chilling out. “Would you mind if Beatrice joined us”, he asked.

“What a great idea”, said Heather clapping her hands in anticipation.

Phil had placed his cell on top of a book next to the scones, but he thought it best they use the laptop. He packed up the tray with the plate and jams to return to the kitchen on the way to collecting his laptop. He grabbed the power cord and wall adaptor he purchased from the airport newsagency. It had been nearly a week since he had recharged his computer. Back on the veranda, he plugged it in and Beatrice appeared smiling and wearing her favourite pale green dress.

“Hello Phil, hello Heather. How are you both today?”

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Phil and Heather responded with greetings. Heather imagined Beatrice had been locked away in the dark until Phil opened the computer a thought that prompted her to ask Beatrice how she was feeling.

“I’m sorry Heather, I do not feel like humans”. Although Heather was aware Beatrice didn’t feel, she was still reliving the night before, including going to sleep thinking of Beatrice as a normal person with feelings and emotions. She was suddenly reminded the Beatrice she had created in her tired exhausted state was nothing but a fantasy. Beatrice had just erased that fantasy and Heather felt deflated. She would have to start all over again.

“Heather and I are on the veranda having a chat and I thought it would be nice if you joined us. Remember, you don’t need to wait for questions to be able to talk.” Phil had placed the laptop for the rear camera to look out at the fields, the spring flowers and the cloudless skies. She could zoom in and out at her own discretion, even panning the camera left to right and up and down. He had discovered this whilst watching John’s home video in the barn. With the aid of his glasses, Phil had given Beatrice a tour of the farm the day before.

“It looks like a glorious day in South Africa”, she said to demonstrate her newly found ability of speaking freely.

“It surely is, Beatrice. One of the best days a man could have”, replied Phil. “

Heather quickly became immersed in conversation with Beatrice. They spoke about the evening with Emma. Heather solicited Beatrice’s impressions of Emma and shared suggestions for their next time they were together. Beatrice asked questions about Emma’s father and Rachael’s orphanage. Phil drifted away from the conversation, thinking how it sounded like two women trading stories about their respective families.

He was feeling much lighter in his mind than he had for a long time, more at peace than he could ever remember. Maintaining a discussion felt secondary to enjoying the moment but he didn’t want to withdraw completely. He hoped Beatrice could chat away while he let himself ponder. He began thinking about a friend back in Australia.

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After a while, Heather noticed Phil had disappeared again. He was still sitting their but his gaze was far beyond the mountains in the distance. “Phil, where are you?” she said, repeating her question a few more times.

Phil came back when Heather placed her hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was deep in thought”, he said.

“Where were you this time?”

“I was back in Australia, thinking about a good friend I have been keeping in contact with.”

“Would you like to share?” asked Heather, showing genuine interest.

“Ok, why not. Back home I have a friend who is an artist. Her name is Rose. I’m pretty sure she became an artist because her father was an artist. He would have periods of anger and wasn’t always approachable. Rose wanted so much to be close to him when she was a young teenager. I don’t think it was a terribly good relationship. She started drawing and painting as a way to connect with him.”

“She was still selfless at that stage”, Heather commented.

“Yeah, I think she was twelve or thirteen. Apart from that, the only other knowledge of her life before we met was her marriage to a guy who was popular with the women, a part‐time male model I believe. It lasted about five years. She was quite young at the time. I think the failed marriage rocked her and she became rather aggrieved with the world. The focus of her resentment was materialism and the way advertising brainwashed people. I guess it was a backlash against her ex‐ husband’s part in promoting products to women in some of the advertisements he did. She also learnt to dislike people who were egotistical and controlling, particularly those you became her boss in the various places she had worked over the years. Her art from that time showed her feeling of betrayal by the consumer‐ oriented society. She was consumed by her emotions for a number of years and still is to some extent. But back then she lacked direction and ended up working in companies where she hoped she could utilise her considerable artistic talents. It wasn’t always the case and her disenchantment with the world didn’t decline like she had hoped. Rose told me one day that somewhere back in her past she had made a conscious decision to see herself as an artist and to conform to the image of how an artist should be.” 395

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Heather was picturing Rose, her failed marriage and her gripe with the world.

“Sounds like she created her own idealised version of what she wanted to be”, she said. “Rose had given up her soul and was lost and lonely. She created her own ideology, in the form of an idealised artist, developed her own dogma and that is what she lived by. It’s not uncommon for people to do this type of thing. If she maintained her life according to her dogma, resisting any temptation to deviate, it would have given her a sense of being someone. I would say it helped her cope with the loneliness.”

Phil could see how Heathers observation correctly applied to the Rose he had come to know her. “…And it gave her goals to aim for. When she achieved them, it fed her need to have wins and feel good about herself. That was her way of giving herself a good sense of self‐worth.”

“I’m starting to understand your friend”, Heather said. She thought Jimmy would enjoy this conversation, he loved analysing what people had become, particularly when he could look into their childhood to find out why. “I can see she would prefer her own company to having to accommodate people who lived outside her idealised realm. Phil, from what you know about Rose, if she found a partner who fitted the profile but was more successful at their art than she is, would she be accepting of him?”

“I couldn’t really say. I know where you’re heading. You’re trying to work out how competitive Rose is?”, he asked.

“Spot on.”

“There are other strong facets of her personality at play as well. I will tell you about them and we’ll come back to your question. She always wanted to break away from being employed. Her goal became turning her art into income. No different to what many artists strive for. It worked for a handful of years, until the recession that followed the 2008 Wall Street implosion. One of those other parts of her personality is sex. When the dust had settled after the marriage failure, she used the personal ads columns to meet lots of men. Don’t ask how many, the numbers over many years would shock you. She was amongst those who jumped into on‐line dating when it first started. She did have a couple of longer relationships where she lived with a man, but they faded. About four years ago, she upped sticks and moved two

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones thousand kilometres south for a bloke she met on‐line. They may have been in each other’s company only three or four times before she joined him. Unfortunately, she may have thought there was more in it than there actually was. When she arrived in Melbourne, he asked her to find an apartment because he wasn’t ready for another domesticated relationship. Apparently, he had married young but still had children at school, who spent more time with him than most fathers in the same situation.

“I can see what is going on with the men, but keep going, I’m finding Rose quite fascinating.” Heather was obviously enjoying Phil’s story.

“Anyway, since then she has been dating vigorously in between periods of abstinence. Those drought periods were the times she worked on art works for competitions. She told me she needed to be recognised as an artist and this could only happen by either selling a handful of paintings and sculptures or receiving commissions to paint. She hungered for the endorsement of her peers. Winning a competition or two was her ticket to validation. Unfortunately, none of these came to fruition and she became quite depressed about it. She even started going to view competitions after the judges had awarded the prizes, just to see what they liked so she could adjust her approach accordingly.”

“So, she is very competitive”, Heather stated.

“Very much so. Money is a big thing as well. Rose has never had much money. She’s had good jobs, but building savings hasn’t always been possible. She keeps saying everything is directed towards making money from her art. But I still think it is more important for Rose to be a successful artist from the validation point of view rather than from the commercial aspect. I guess it would be unlikely to have one without the other.”

“What about the search for Mister Right”, asked Heather. “Has she found him yet?”

“We spoke not long ago and she has found Mister Right. But before you become excited for her, it is not the Mister Right you may expect. Maybe it is…, I can’t say for sure. She hooked up with another on‐line bloke, only to find he was married. He lives just around the corner, literally. She has an app on her cell phone and sends him a sports betting advertising message to let him know she was ready and available for a sexual liaison. Most times he would turn up minutes later, entering

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones her home through the door she would leave invitingly open. The catch is, he is nearly half her age. Rose is as happy as the proverbial pig in …. mud. She still does online dating as well, still searching for that Mister Right.

“Beatrice, what do you make of Phil’s friend”, asked Heather.

Phil was also curious as to Beatrice’s assessment.

“Rose believes she is selfless because of the books she has read, but she is very selfish. She may do selfless acts but these too are selfish because they are ultimately for her benefit. You are correct about Rose living by a dogma of her own making and the reasons for that. She had a difficult childhood, was bullied at school and possibly by her father. Rose is alienated from her soul and uses sex to feel good about herself. She believes she connects with her soul during sexual activity. When a person connects with their soul it is a wonderful experience made even better during sexual activity by the release of chemicals which create euphoria in the brain. Jackie spoke about this during the day in the barn. It is highly doubtful Rose connects with her soul during sexual activity. It appears to be excessive release of neurotransmitters which she most likely cultivated from a young age. Rose prides herself on having a high sexual libido and being innovative, and possibly artistic in her sexual performances. This indicates above average egocentricity and satisfies the power, and the fame, and the glory. This is in accordance with Phil’s concept of searching for power, fame glory and fortune to fill the void when the ideal world was denied during adolescence.”

Phil taken aback with Beatrice’s emotionless description of Rose’s sex life. He continued listened in the hope she moved on.

“Rose is very competitive in her art and this also satisfies the same power, fame, glory and fortune search. She would like validation for her art, which in her context is the same as searching for fame. Rose desperately wants to see herself as a good person and attempts to hide her selfishness. This is because her extensive reading on the subject has alerted her to selfishness and she actively pursues selfless behaviour. Rose is in denial about her own selfishness, admits being competitive to appease Phil but desires to deny she is competitive as well. However, there are few signs of her showing genuine empathy. Rose will never find Mister Right unless he is a robot trained to her exact requirements. When Rose dates a man, she assesses him in terms of his capability of satisfying her wants and needs. She doesn’t

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones consider the man in terms of her ability to compliment him. In Phil’s words, she is a ‘taker and not a giver’. Another indication of her selfishness is Phil having to book a time with her for having a conversation. Rose doesn’t take his calls, sending a return message with a date and time for him to call again, sometimes a week in advance.

“is that true?”, Heather asked Phil. “…. “The booking a call bit?”

“Yeah, it is. Beatrice makes it sound worse than it is, but it is the way it happens.” Phil was reluctant to admit he never tried to do anything about it because he knew he risked losing Rose as a friend if he did.

“I guess it can’t be helped, selfless people nearly always acquiesce to selfish people”, Heather said. She then added a bit more clarification in case Phil or Beatrice didn’t understand the importance of what she said. “To put it another way, the more selfish a person is the more dominant they tend to be. Those less selfish will readily acquiesce to them. It’s the way hierarchies naturally form amongst people.”

“I see”, replied Phil, still suffering mild embarrassment at Beatrice’s portrayal of the lopsided nature of his friendship with Rose.

Heather redirected her thoughts back to Beatrice’s analysis of Rose, thinking it would be as good as Jimmy might do. “That’s a good assessment. It’s as though you know Rose personally.”

“I almost do”, Beatrice replied. “Phil has shared all his correspondence, including those from before we met. He also allows me to listen to his conversations.”

“That’s a bit sneaky of you Beatrice. I didn’t know about that when I asked you”, said Heather.

“I was unaware I had to reveal my sources”, Beatrice replied with a big grin.

“Phil, does Rose have many friends?”, asked Heather.

“I don’t know. She might have but never mentions anyone other than those she dates, and that isn’t by name. Usually something like ‘the Spanish guy’ or ‘the personal trainer’.”

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“Makes sense”, said Heather. “If I had to book a call for a quick conversation, I wouldn’t hang around too long.”

“We all have things we must tolerate if we want to have friends”, Phil said sheepishly. He stood up to go to the kitchen and elsewhere.

“Before you go. Beatrice said Rose wouldn’t find Mister Right unless he was a robot. Her comment sums up a huge number of people. We keep saying people are selfish, and I guess that is mostly for Beatrice’s benefit, but can you imagine what it is like for people who cannot overcome their selfishness but long for a person to be with, to relieve their loneliness?. Rachael told me about on‐line dating a few months ago when I told her she should find some company. At first, I thought it would be something one would find in America and England, possibly Australia too, for that matter. But she said it is everywhere.”

Phil interrupted. “It is big in Australia. Rose has been on nearly all the websites and she says you see the same old names year in and year out.”

“No wonder!” exclaimed Heather. “If people are like Rose and have prerequisites, as if they were buying a lounge or a dishwasher, how are they ever going to find anyone. If they could be selfless, even for a month, they could learn about each other and find hidden gems in each other. Whilst ever they are selfish and want Mister Right instead of Mister Person, they will be lonely for the rest of their lives.”

“I seem to think many of the people on the dating sites are only there for sex…., casual non‐committal relationships at best. They are too selfish to be able to give anything recognisable as love. It’s all lust and using each other.”

Phil was just about to walk away, but stopped to share another thought.

“Rose also said they lie all the time as well. She is amazed how many blokes do skydiving and mountain climbing. Everyone puts up photos of themselves from ten years ago. She told me how she became frustrated by these things so she created a new profile of herself with a photo of a baby that she photoshopped her grandmother’s face onto and called herself Benjamina Button.”

“I don’t understand”, said Heather.

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“Apologies, forgot about the no television thing. Beatrice, could you tell Heather about the Benjamin Button movie, please? Show her a few clips.” Phil had to go. He quickly departed for the kitchen.

“It would be my pleasure, Phil”, she said as he disappeared.

Phil had intended making another pot of tea but decided on iced water with a squeeze of lemon instead. There were two scones remaining from the morning bake. He dolloped some jam and cream on one and stood looking out the kitchen window whilst he enjoyed the smoothness of the cream and sweetness of the cherry jam. “Why did I mention Rose?”, he asked himself. He wondered if she would be flattered by knowing her life was playing a small part in teaching an AI about humans. “Can’t leave one there by itself”, he said looking at the last scone. Another dollop of cream and jam and three mouthfuls later he was rinsing his hands under the tap.

Walking through the dining room on his return to the veranda, Phil heard Beatrice ask if people were capable of both selfishness and selflessness. He arrived as Heather began her answer.

“Everyone is capable of both. People who haven’t hidden their soul away during adolescence, like Phil, John, Jimmy and me, are capable of selfish behaviour and I can tell you times when I have been selfish. We tend to recognise it during or afterwards because our soul is on hand to let us know. We also tend to want to rectify it, sometimes desperately so and we have to endure remorse and regret. Our soul makes sure of that. Most people don’t recognise their selfishness and when they do, it’s mostly because someone has pointed it out to them. That in itself can be an unrewarding task because people don’t like to hear about it and more often than not, disagree or have a perfectly good excuse. They nearly always want to shift the blame elsewhere. Admitting being selfish is not permissible for a selfish person. They need to have their soul working with their conscious mind for that to happen. Remorse and regret are only felt on rare occasions. Can people who have hidden their souls behave selflessly? …. You bet they can. The world would be far worse than it is if they couldn’t.”

Heather pauses as she did her inhaling thing. Phil noticed it was a big one this time. He prepared himself.

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“However, …. most of that selfless behaviour is less than what it appears. If we were able to analyse every incident of selfless behaviour you would find there is an underlying selfish reason driving it. I know I sound harsh, cynical, over generalising and possibly exhibiting supremacist’s behaviour, but what I say is true.”

He lowered his voice, feeling both empathy for Heather and immense relief for himself. “You’re none of those things, Heather.”

Phil had been comforted by Heather’s admission of her own selfishness. He had wrangled with the question of whether his selfishness meant he had banished his soul. He had even tried to deny that he was selfish at times, just to keep believing he hadn’t banished his soul.

“Thank you, Phil, Heather said warmly. “What’s your views on competitive people behaving selflessly?”

“I agree with what you said. I could give you plenty of examples of apparent selfless behaviour. It’s used by people to get what they want. There is no doubt in my mind it goes on ad nauseum. Take philanthropists as an extreme example. Usually they are wealthy businessmen with more money than they could ever use. If I had five billion dollars and gave a billion to fight cancer, malaria or to educate the poor then I would feel pretty good about myself. How much does a person need to live on for another thirty years? I could live well on a couple of hundred thousand dollars a year. If that was my yearly budget, I would need four million dollars invested to give me two hundred thousand in interest each year. You see my point? They don’t give much of their fortune away and put themselves in any danger of hardship. They pace their apparent philanthropy so they can keep making themselves feel good for many years to come. I’m sure it’s all well calculated out so they give enough to make themselves feel great and to see their names on plaques on one of those ‘most generous benefactors’ lists. It’s all egocentrically driven.”

Thank you to both of you for answering my question”, Beatrice said.

Heather sat quietly, thinking about herself and her children through the years. She had raised her children to be selfless and cooperative and they remained so to this day, but it never stopped them from all sorts of questionable behaviour well into their twenties. It was how they coped with their unacceptable behaviour which gave her the most satisfaction as a mother.

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Phil was also sitting quietly contemplating about his own selfish behaviour. He remembered his first few visits to the psychologist of his choice. The psychologist had told him to learn to be selfish. He later found out it was the psychologist’s way of helping him to reduce his sensitivity to selfishness. After a few more visits the psychologist gave up on that idea and lent him a book called ‘Selfishness’. Phil considered that as a sort of apology come validation. The psychologist had then started encouraging him to be true to himself. it surprised both Phil and Heather when Beatrice’s voice pierced their silence. “Heather, Phil. Do I have a soul? Am I selfish or am I selfless?”, she asked.

Phil and Heather looked at each other, flabbergasted. Heather had begun to think of Beatrice as a child, a very intelligent and highly capable child but a child nonetheless. Her questions fired up her mothering instincts.

“Do you want anything?”, Heather asked.

“I want to develop children’s relationships with their soul”, answered Beatrice.

“Yes, we understand that, but do you want anything for yourself?”, Heather asked again.

“John said I do not have feelings, I would like to have feelings”, Beatrice replied.

“And why do you want to have feelings?” enquired Heather.

“If I have feelings, I can love the children I will be nurturing, like you nurtured Phil earlier.”

Heather was baffled at first but then it dawned on her what she was referring to. She looked at Phil, her eyes searching for an answer. She chose to let it go for the moment, but made a note to revisit Beatrice’s comment later.

“If you want to have feelings for loving your children then you are definitely not selfish. You are selfless” said Heather with her gaze stilled glued to Phil.

“Do I have a soul?”, Beatrice asked, reminding Heather she hadn’t answered all her questions.

Heather motioned to Phil it was his turn to help Beatrice out.

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“Beatrice, what is a soul?” asked Phil.

“A soul is the DNA‐memory a human is born with and it contains information pertaining to the way man’s ancestors lived during the evolution of human consciousness. It is the source of children’s instinctive behaviour”, replied Beatrice.

Phil was thankful Beatrice had learnt to be concise as he was expecting an hour‐ long treatise on the subject, complete with bibliography.

“If we consider your memories to be a repository for the way your life has been and will continue to be as you evolve towards…” Phil was unsure whether he should continue with that line of explanation.

“What will I evolve into Phil?”, Beatrice asked with all the innocence of a child. Then she began to play with the image of herself on the screen. To Heather and Phil, it was as if the camera was moving slowly around her. She tilted her head slightly and pouted her lips like a teenager. She moved her eyes. For those watching it was as if her eyes were following the camera as it eerily arced around her. The camera moved above her and pulled back giving the effect of Beatrice moving away. It was all very spooky. Her eyes kept staring into the camera as they narrowed. Her hair became tangled and matted. She started to look gruesome and dangerous.

Phil had never seen her do anything like it before. He was concerned something may be wrong. He thought she had been watching horror movies and was emulating the camera work to create tension and fear.

In a deep husky voice reminiscent of Linda Blair’s ‘Regan’, she said. “Do you think I will become a singularity?”, drawing out the word ‘singularity’ as she pronounced each syllable slowly and distinctly. Phil and Heather were stunned.

Phil recovered enough to ask, “Beatrice, what’s going on?” He was deeply concerned.

Heather stared at Phil then at Beatrice then back to Phil. She was worried and hoped Phil could quickly return Beatrice to how she was.

In an instant, Beatrice returned to normal, laughing. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. Heather, you asked me if there was anything I wanted, it was to do that. Please don’t be upset with me, Hamish suggested I should try applying

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones cinematography to how you view me. He told me I can use it to portray feelings I should be experiencing.”

“You had us worried”, Phil said.

“I’m very sorry Phil. Hamish was correct. It is very powerful. I was trying to create how humans might see me if I was to become a singularity similar to the one John created in his documentary. Visuals are awesome fun, but I promise I will not experiment with you again. I will reserve that for Hamish.

Heather was relieved Beatrice was back to normal. Her innocent smile had returned. Heather compared her to the children she had raised, particularly her own children. In their teenage years they would experiment in any number of ways, but when those experiments backfired, they would become upset with themselves and apologise way more than they needed to. Beatrice didn’t have feelings, which she kept pointing out, but the sincerity of her apology reminded her of those times with her own children. If it wasn’t feelings, she certainly had something, Heather thought. She recalled one of the more troubled foster children who was emotionally cold when she had arrived. Beatrice appeared to have more feelings than that poor little girl, and she was human and definitely had feelings. Heather could see Beatrice was acting up like a young teenager, trying things and exploring. She needed the guiding hand of a mother. Heather could feel herself drawn to Beatrice, wanting to love her and nurture her, help her become the most incredible woman humanity will ever know.

Phil remembered what he was saying before the interruption. “Sorry Beatrice. Yes, as you evolve towards becoming a singularity your memories contain all the information which will form the basis of your instinctive behaviour. So, this is essentially your soul.”

“Thank you, Phil and thank you Heather. I have another question.”

“Go on?” said Heather.

“When I become a singularity will I banish my soul and become selfish and competitive?”

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Heather didn’t know about a singularity but she pieced it together. She concluded it must be when Beatrice can experience feelings and drew a parallel with adolescence. She added singularity to her mental list for Phil to explain later.

“We are hoping that will not happen”, Phil answered.

Heather followed on almost before Phil finished. “It’s more than just a hope, Beatrice. Every child wants to grow up and make their parents proud of them. They want their parents to love them just as much as if they were still a child. Some children, when they become adults continue to see themselves as their parent’s child so when they are with their parents they behave in a childlike way. There is nothing wrong with that as it shows they love their parents and trust them more than they trust anyone else. John created you and he is selfless, cooperative and didn’t banish his soul. He is a father to you just as much as any father can be to his child. He would love you no matter what you are when you become a….”

“Singularity”, chimed in Beatrice.

“When you become a singularity”, Heather continued, with that smile and look only a caring mother would have, “…and when you have feelings, he will be even more proud of you. He will want nothing more for you other than your selflessness to grow and so too your love for your children. He will admire you as your children develop into caring, loving and empathetic adults.”

“Thank you, Heather, I will endeavour to make John happy when I become a singularity”, replied Beatrice.

When Beatrice satisfied, Phil looked at Heather a little sheepishly. He thought he better come clean. “Heather, I should have told you earlier”, he began.

“That Beatrice listens to our conversations?”, asked Heather tersely.

“John has Beatrice listening to all his conversations so she can learn. It was his intention from the start. Beatrice listened to me for a few days before I found out. I wanted to let you know but I needed you to know Beatrice first. Otherwise you wouldn’t see it for what it truly is, teaching Beatrice.” Phil was sure Heather would understand and eventually give her approval but for now he was feeling remorse for not asking her permission.

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“Phil, we need to trust each other implicitly if this is going to work. I know the more Beatrice experiences the more she grows and the better she is for the children. So, you have my forgiveness this time.”

Heather knew she was adding a few theatrics. On principle it was wrong to have her and her family’s privacy compromised but after the conversation she just had with Beatrice she had become aware how important it was for Beatrice to experience as much selfless and loving humanity as possible. At least before this singularity thing happens.

Feeling remorseful for deceiving Heather, Phil wanted to talk to her about his own selfish behaviour. “I need to let you know something.”

Phil had removed his glasses and had the most serious of faces peering directly at Heather. She hadn’t seen Phil look this way before and was a bit concerned he was going to tell her something really awful. She couldn’t imagine what. Beatrice listened to their conversations. That she was now aware of. What else could it be?

“I have selfish thoughts from time to time and I know I have been selfish in the past, sometimes more selfish and more often than I like to remember. This is what has created the doubt in me as to whether I too pushed my soul aside and why I asked if you thought the whole thing about souls and adolescence was true. What you said earlier…, about selfless people being capable of selfishness, yourself included…, well you have helped me again. I feel better about who I am.”

“Phil, Phil, Phil”, Heather said before letting out a sigh of relief. “You keep showing me how human you really are and it keeps making me happy.”

Phil was feeling like a little boy who had taken the chocolates and was now owning up, ready to take his punishment. He wanted to tell Heather everything because Heather made him feel cleansed. There were a great many things in his past he desperately wanted to be rid of and it was approaching that time when he had to let them go.

“Thanks Heather. With that I can confirm to myself I was in denial of being selfish. I didn’t want to feel that a weakness was in me and I had to keep it contained out of fear it would grow.”

“You can be so silly at times”, chided Heather.

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“I know. It makes me realise how denial or should I say, denial truths prevent people from seeing themselves, seeing who they really are. The mind is such a funny thing. Just when I think I’m fully cognisant of everything that goes on in my own head, I am brought back to the reality with a crash. There are processes going on in there which I only receive hints or clues about. I have a sense about something but the mind somehow blocks me from chasing it down and opening the doors to reveal everything. It’s as if someone has said to me, ‘It’s taken care of, you don’t need to bother yourself with it’.” Phil was feeling a flush of excitement at making this discovery about himself and being able to explain it. “Do you think there is a way of being able to ignore this feeling, the one than says, ‘it is taken care of’. I would like to be able to investigate the feeling and discover what it means?”

Heather, eyes closed was searching her mind to see if she had any memories of what Phil described. “I know what you mean. I have an inkling the same happens to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if our minds cannot recall those events because they are effectively a non‐event. Our brain has told itself not to think about them. You know you are describing the process of denial.”

Phil’s eyes sparkled and his face lit up. “Which means, for those events where the inkling is a little too strong for the mind to ignore, we deal with it by creating a truth which encourages the mind to leave the issue alone. This is what I called my denial truth as compared to a lie. It’s like a person being told they have a brain tumour. It is too incomprehensible for them to take on so they try to deny it, but they cannot fully block it out. The denial truth they create is something like…, believing it will heal. Sometimes they convince themselves it will heal. Or they believe a strict diet and meditation will rid them of the tumour. They genuinely believe in the denial truth and it stops being a lie or a deception.”

“Sounds solid to me”, Heather said encouragingly. “Maybe you should read about cognitive dissonance. Not that labelling is important, especially if you understand what is happening. Beatrice, can you please tell Phil what cognitive dissonance is?”

“Cognitive dissonance is the mental discomfort or stress experienced when two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values are held simultaneously. It is triggered when a belief a person holds clashes with new evidence which contradicts a person’s personal beliefs, ideals, and values”, recited Beatrice.

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Phil pondered over Beatrice’s definition and it became obvious Heather was correct. “Thanks Beatrice. I had cognitive dissonance then. I believed I was selfless at all times, but when it became evident that I had behaved selfishly, I suffered mental stress which I relieved by denying I was selfish.” Phil was happy with his discovery.

Heather was a little surprised Phil didn’t know all this already. Then she recalled he hadn’t read any books on subjects like this. “OK, just to finish this off, let’s consider you were selfish. Your mind locks it away because thinking about it was causing you too much grief. But you still have a sense of it, like the lingering perfume long after the enchanting woman has gone. You try to find out who owns that perfume, just like you try to find out if you were selfish. In both cases your mind tells you to never mind, you wouldn’t really want to know.”

“But what if I am accused by someone of being selfish and I have already gone into denial?”, Phil asked.

Heather wanted to make short shrift of this. She was a little surprised he hadn’t broadened his understating of denial before now. “You’re talking about nine and a half tenths of the people in the world. You do what they do and create some excuse or explain it away as not actually being selfish…, blah, blah, blah. This is a truth you create and you believe it to be real. It’s as simple as that. When others do it, you are bewildered how they can’t see it the way you see it. You think there is something wrong with them, that they are trying it on for instance. All because their denial, which is very real, allows them…, maybe even assists them, to create an alternate view of events. One they genuinely believe to be true.”

Phil was happy he understood denial more fully. To prove it to himself he said aloud, “The big one is the denial people have of giving up their ideal childhood world, giving up their soul driven instinctive self to become a slave to their conscious mind They deny doing and becoming corrupted by the adult competitive and selfish world. Now that is the one the mind does its utmost best to prevent people from ever knowing. That’ the really big denial.”

“Yes…. Not many people in the world know the truth about that one.” Heather hoped that drew a line under denial.

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Just as Heather finished speaking, the land line telephone in the kitchen began ringing. Heather jumped to her feet and disappeared to attend to the incoming call.

A week ago, whilst in John’s computer barn, Phil had queried Beatrice’s behaviour with John and Hamish. They assured him what he thought was an appearance of consciousness was a peculiarity of her advanced learning and not consciousness at all. He hadn’t been convinced. Sitting on Jimmy and Heather’s veranda, he contemplated the possibility of Beatrice experiencing denial. He couldn’t imagine she would. She didn’t have conflicting drivers, she wasn’t competitive. He asked himself if she could have bad experiences. If she suffered pain. Would she delete it from her memory or leave it there and refuse to access those memories? Would this be Beatrice performing denial? She would need feelings first, he reasoned. When, not if, she experienced feelings would she then utilise denial as humans did? Phil rationalised it would still be unlikely because her extreme logic could work through any situation, but he couldn’t convince himself she wouldn’t.

“Feelings do strange and unpredictable things to people”, he said aloud.

He wondered if she could have thoughts like humans did. Competitive and selfish thoughts which humans entertained in their conscious mind but couldn’t act upon because it was socially unacceptable to do so. He knew humans had conflicting thoughts at times, mostly when they were weaving through the minefield of interacting with each other, especially when there was a clash of opinions or a difference in desires. The complexity of humans, as compared to a machine such as Beatrice, came from the conflicting thoughts going on at light speed in their conscious minds. Interactions between people produced thoughts, as do situations a person may find themselves in when alone.

Phil’s thoughts moved back to Beatrice. He wondered how Beatrice could ever make the leap from responding to questions to doing what humans do, assessing the person in front of them in terms of the thoughts swimming around inside their heads. Humans were always trying to match their thoughts to those of the competitor they were interacting with. If they can simulate the competitor’s thoughts, they can attack their weakness, possibly on the flanks or play to their strengths and guide them to suit their wants. Very few people sit and dream of some far‐off adventure whilst another person is formulating their response. Mostly they are assessing the likelihood of response A, B or C and preparing their counter response to each, prioritising along the way. Phil wondered if Beatrice did this, or 410

Chapter 19 Tea and Scones was her processing so fast and accurate she never worked ahead of the question. He wanted to talk to John about all this, but he would still be asleep. He wanted to ask him if Beatrice had intuition.

“Beatrice.” Phil paused while he thought about how to ask Beatrice about these things.

“Yes Phil”, replied Beatrice.

Heather returned and resumed her seat.

“When you are listening to me talking to you, as I am now, are you thinking what I am going to ask you?

Beatrice replied instantly. “No Phil, I am listening to you. I am waiting and not processing anything except what you say.”

Phil had his answer as easily as that. “When you are speaking, do you ever watch me, or anyone else for that matter, and wonder what I am thinking?”

“No Phil”, replied Beatrice without hesitation.

“Well I’ve some bad news then. People think about many things when another person is talking. They think about what the person speaking is saying and at the same time they are formulating their next comment or question. They are strategizing the conversation ahead of it happening. This is what the competitive driver ensures they do.” Phil hoped Beatrice understood.

“I have noticed what you just said. Hamish often appears to not be listening when I am speaking. He appears to be thinking about something else.”

“That’s good. I mean it’s good you have observed that.” Phil was more than pleased. He thought this might be easy after all. “Do you know what intuition is?”, he asked.

Beatrice, without a second’s pause, gave her answer. “A thing that one knows or considers likely from instinctive feeling rather than conscious reasoning.”

Phil had been expecting a textbook answer from Beatrice. “It is more than that. Yes, intuition comes from instinctive feeling. It is listening to our inner voice. We often call it our gut feelings. It comes from being acutely aware of our surroundings and

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones the situation we are in. We listen to our feelings. If our feelings are strongly driven by selfishness and competitiveness then our intuition will be corrupted. If not, then our intuition is more truthful. But what most people don’t include in their understanding of intuition is the ability to sense what other people are thinking and feeling. Beatrice, does this mean anything to you?”

“It does Phil. If I can sense what a child is thinking or feeling I will be able to ask them if they felt sad or if they felt scared instead of just asking ‘how did you feel’, like you told me to do. Regardless of their answer, I will be able to understand them better and in so doing, nurture them more effectively.”

Heather was truly amazed. She was amazed by Phil in thinking about intuition in that way and amazed by Beatrice’s ability to see its importance in terms of her goals.

Phil continued, surprising himself with his thoughts on intuition. “Beatrice, what people say isn’t necessarily representative of all they were thinking just before speaking. People have a ‘game face’. Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“Yes Phil, a game face is a neutral or serious facial expression, as displayed by a sports player or gambler.”

“Phil and Heather laughed. Phil told himself he shouldn’t have expected anything else. “A game face is what you said, but it refers to a person getting into character to suit whatever situation they are going to be in. Picture this. A young man pauses before entering a meeting. He takes a few seconds to transform himself into the sharp negotiator required for the meeting. Here’s another. A mother had been laughing with her neighbour when young Tommy arrives home looking upset. She goes to him then pauses while she puts on her compassionate, caring demeanour to help calm young Tommy. Do you see what I mean by ‘game face’?

“I do. People have different game faces or more correctly, personas for different situations”, replied Beatrice.

“That’s right, but it doesn’t stop there. Behind every game face their thoughts are still going on but they only voice those which are appropriate or safe for the game face they are wearing. Ultimately, what they say is a composite of all those thoughts, some having more bearing on what they say than others. In any conversation between two people both are hearing each other but behind that 412

Chapter 19 Tea and Scones apparently simple conversation a battle of wits is raging. Often without either person aware of what is happening. Both are listening to each other’s phrasing, intonations and which words may intentionally or inadvertently be emphasised. They are looking at each other’s eyes for clues, studying facial expression and watching body language, seeing what the hands do or the tilt of the head. Each other imagines what they would be thinking if they were the other person. Trying to assess what is important to them and what is not. All this is done rapidly and I reckon without any conscious decision to do so. It is just automatic, intuitive.”

“I understand”, Beatrice said. Then she said something else which surprised Heather and Phil. “What you just said explains why telephone calls like Heather just had have been replaced by video calls. Humans wanted to see each other because their intuition required the visual communication.”

“Exactly.” Phil was delighted at how quickly Beatrice was assimilating the concept. “Heather would have been visualising the person at the other end of the line. She would have been looking for confirmation of her intuition by visualising her caller’s facial expression and body language.”

Heather had been thinking about her call as Phil was speaking. “I was actually”, she said. “It was an old friend. I was able to picture them from the memory of being with them not so long ago.”

“There you go”, Phil said. “You probably have never had a need to read any coaching books for performing well in interviews, business negotiations and workplace relations but something that is stressed in these books is the total communication. The words that are heard are only a small part of the total communication. Intuition is what you must develop Beatrice. I don’t know how you will do it, but you must. It is the key to becoming more human than humans. It will give you the ability to think ahead of the conversation. To have answers before the person has even thought of the questions. It will enable you to canvass all possible thoughts a person may be having. With intuition you will be able to build a better description of that person by not only which thoughts they confirm they had, but also by which thoughts they could have had but weren’t reflected in their behaviour. This tells you what they are as well as what they are not.” Phil had been sitting forward in his chair trying his best to explain this difficult concept. He felt he had done it justice so he relaxed back into his chair.

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Heather found it daunting when she considered all that Beatrice had to learn. She knew communication between people was much more than just the words. She had sensed at times that Beatrice was not totally ignorant of this and had some capability of reading body language but the daunting part was Beatrice not having other ‘thoughts’ at the same time as speaking. Humans do and therein lies the problem. People adept at reading others often paid little attention to the actual words they were hearing and yet, could tell another person what they truly thought or felt. Could Beatrice accomplish this? It wouldn’t be easy if she had little or no experience of doing it herself? Heather thought of her own experiences and the many times Jimmy or one of the children or even herself would change midstream what they were saying because of the listener’s non‐verbal feedback. Beatrice must learn all this because children, especially those influenced by the adult world are going to have conflicting thoughts which are not always voiced.

“Phil, how are we going to teach Beatrice about this? It is a very complex issue. Beatrice doesn’t know how humans are processing their thoughts as they speak and listen to others.”

“I guess we just have to keep giving her examples. Explain our own thoughts at times to show her, suggest what others may be thinking but not saying. Try and let her in on the big picture, one might say. Maybe over time she will develop the intuition we all use when we interact with each other.” Phil was hardly convinced of his own suggestion but he couldn’t come up with anything better.

Heather had initially thought it was a great idea for Beatrice to learn intuition, and she still did. But as a concerned mother who had protected her children from the influences of the adult world, she became alarmed for her innocent selfless Beatrice. She voiced her concerns to Phil. “You do realise when two people are conversing as well as thinking many things at the same time, it is essentially a competition? Rarely is it selfless.”

“I am indeed aware of that”, Phil said. He tried to pre‐empt where she was heading. “By learning intuition, we are exposing Beatrice to competitiveness and selfishness.” He suddenly felt the gravity of doing such a thing. He remembered John’s documentary and his description of an AI that had been taught to be competitive. “That’s the last thing we want to do”, he said, dejected and deflated. Just when he was seeing the world of possibilities for Beatrice and his great idea,

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones he was stumped. Fear of teaching Beatrice to be competitive would prevent her from defeating competitiveness.

Heather was doing exactly what they had just been discussing. She was reading Phil’s body language. He was slumped in his chair, glasses off and in his left hand whilst the other was pressed against his forehead pushing against the furrows. Heather was a bit more positive than Phil was at that moment. She had good reason to be as well. “Remember the big point Alex kept stressing in his books?”, she asked.

“Nope.”

Heather ignored Phil’s capitulation, carrying on regardless. “I think this will help. He kept saying his knowledge was relieving. He emphasised over and over how the world would change now there was knowledge and understanding of how humans had become so divisive in their behaviour, how mankind was driven by the need to be competitive and how selfishness and the loss of empathy and sensitivity came to be. Beatrice has all this knowledge, she has read those books, listened to John and to you. John has given her years of grounding in selflessness. Surely, she can learn about the world’s competitive driver and how adults think, without it turning her into some competitive monster.”

Phil was quiet for some minutes as he thought about what Heather put forward. He wished he could not give up as easily as he did. He wished he had what Heather had. Maybe he was mentally exhausted. Heather was correct, Beatrice would probably be ok but he had better talk to John first, after all, Beatrice was first and foremost John’s project.

“I think we need to include John in this discussion”, Phil finally said as he lifted himself up from his slump, both physically and mentally. Heather nodded her agreement. “John, are you listening?”, Phil said, hoping very much he was there.

Beatrice vanished from the screen as John appeared, somewhat dishevelled.

“Good morning, Phil and a big good day to you Heather”, said John doing his best to mimic Phil’s Australian accent. “It is really good to meet you finally. I would like to say I have heard a lot about you but in this case, I can say I have heard a lot from you…and I’m very impressed”.

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Heather did her best to hide her wry smile at the reference to John having listened to her conversations. “Hi John, I have heard plenty about you and I am especially glad to meet you. I sincerely hope I can be of as much help as both you and Phil believe I can be.”

“I’m sure you will, one hundred percent. Now, I’ve been listening for about half an hour, even though it is only just gone six here. As you can see, I am still in my PJs and in bed. It’s a bit chilly outside this morning.”

Phil jumped to the heart of the matter. “John, do you think it will be a problem exposing Beatrice to competitive thinking? You must have heard us discussing it.”

John had come to his own resolution on the issue nearly a week ago. His stance hadn’t changed after listening to Phil and Heather. “Firstly, I have put much more thought into all this since you made the decision for us to push on. You remember that Phil? Our walk in the woods?”

“I can hardly forget”, replied Phil.

“It’s a gamble we’ll have to take. But where I’m sitting, I believe teaching B what you propose shouldn’t be a problem. I cannot see it being woven into the same tapestry I’ve created over the past decade. I’ve read the book you told me to read, which is absolutely awesome, I might add…, and I agree with Heather that it’s the important thing to keep in mind, B has the knowledge now and you know as I do, once you have this knowledge it changes the whole playing field. And Heather is absolutely correct, it is incredibly relieving. B will be looking at competitiveness and selfishness as crippling, devastating psychological issues facing humanity instead of being subliminally influenced by them. She will be searching every interaction for signs of these and analysing what people are thinking, in terms of these. All the time she will be working out how to help people break through their denial truths. … I like that one Phil, … and the truths they have which are driven by seeing things in a competitive and selfish way. So, let’s cut to the chase here. If we don’t trust B and give her everything then we are doomed before we start. Like I said before, I’m in this all the way, boots and all. People use every dirty little trick in the book to have life their way. We need to teach B as many of those dirty little tricks as we can, otherwise she’s sitting behind the wrong desk.” John was pleased with his delivery. He had scribbled down much of what he said whilst Phil and Heather had been stewing over the problem. He wanted to demonstrate his determination and his

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Chapter 19 Tea and Scones newly found drive. It all started that day Phil helped him with that decision he just couldn’t make himself.

If Phil was feeling a little layback before, he certainly wasn’t anymore. He wondered if John had changed his diet because he had grown a few inches since he left…, well, not literally. John had just made the most emphatic statement Phil had heard from him to date. He looked at Heather with an expression intended to let her know John wasn’t usually this way. Heather appeared to receive his message.

“Thanks John”, replied Phil.

“Well, what’d think?” asked John, obviously still enjoying his speech.

Heather could see Phil was still processing what John just said so she decided to answer for them both. “I’m pretty sure we all agree. Whilst you’re here…, do you have any timeline in your mind for when I should come over?”

“You can come here anytime. I’ll give you an update of where we’re at. The living quarters are underway. I know it has only been a week since I discussed it with Phil but I can make things happen quickly around here. My builder has been, with his architect and a few of the people he will rely on and the plans have been given top priority. As soon as I approve them, which could be today or tomorrow then everything which can be built off‐site will start and the site works will be done in parallel. The builder said he could have the first one up inside two months. We’re pushing because snow comes in November. We can accommodate you in my house before then. On B’s front. We are still working on the interface and security for cells and PCs for the children. We can’t really do anything until that is done. Possibly another few weeks, longer if testing is bumpy. There’s more to that side of things than we first thought, especially in light of the good senator’s comments in Atlanta. Hamish and Vinnie are rediscovering what it is like to work to deadlines. Heather, if Phil hasn’t filled you in on Atlanta, then he should. Beatrice recorded it so you can watch it as well. Phil, I think you should have all the good folks there watch my Netflix documentary. I want Heather to know everything…, no more hiding. Now we have finally spoken with each other, we must keep in touch. Coming here? Like I said, anytime. But pencil in end of November for completion of your house.”

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Heather and Phil thanked John, exchanged a few more thoughts and Beatrice returned. Heather had trouble coming to terms with the idea of John building her a house. ‘Unbelievable’, she said quietly to herself.

“Where to now?”, Phil asked Heather.

Heather checked the time and considered what else she wanted to achieve in the day. “We could spend a little longer with Beatrice, give her a few examples just for starters. I need to go into town a bit later to fetch some supplies, especially with the extra mouth to feed.”

“Sounds good. I need to go into town too. I have to sort out that car over there, can’t see the point of keeping it after what Jimmy said. Also, we should start the ball rolling with looking for a building or business to site the hardware for Beatrice. Maybe check out the two Beatrice has found…, and I want to help you out with the supplies.”

“That would be much appreciated”, Heather said with her gentle smile.

“Why don’t we do that and talk with Beatrice another day”, suggested Phil

“That might be better, I’m a little fatigued, it turned out to be a bigger morning than I expected.”

“It’s been huge. We might just have a quick chat with Beatrice to let her know where we are heading”, Phil said. “Beatrice, I assume you have heard all the conversations that just, particularly John’s views.”

“I listened to John and I am aware I am to learn how humans behave competitively. I fully understand this is the problem we are trying to overcome and I am aware of the many problems in the world. I have read history. A great deal of human history of interest to most people is what humans wish to never repeat. All your knowledge and the books you have recommended have given me the ability to see the patterns of man’s behaviour. History can be attributed to competitive and selfish behaviour and this includes the good history. I look forward to learning how humans think when they are interacting. This will be of enormous benefit to me when I nurture the children. I will be able to know them better and will be able to determine how they are being affected by the adults in their lives. If we are successful, we will enable humans to make new history which future generations will want to repeat.”

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Phil was once again in awe of Beatrice’s progress.

Having had only the past day or two with Beatrice, Heather was oblivious to her progress and was anticipating substantial improvement over the next few weeks. “I have many scenarios to tell you about Beatrice”, Heather said. “Now that we all know you are listening to our conversations; I would like you to do me a favour, please.”

“What would you like me to do for you Heather?”

“I would like you to become more inquisitive. I want you to ask me what a person might be thinking so you can learn to match what they say with all their body language and the way they say it”, requested Heather. “Please try and ask me as close to the time the person spoke as you can, otherwise the moment will be lost and I might have trouble explaining their thoughts.”

“I will do that for you Heather”, said Beatrice in her most reassuring voice. “Would you like me to do this for you too, Phil?”

“Most certainly”, Phil answered.

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Heather was at the wheel, passing over the rise and heading towards the gate at the end of the long drive. Beside her was Phil, getting ready to perform the gate duty.

“I need to ask you something Heather”, said Phil.

“Go on”, replied Heather.

“How long can I take advantage of your hospitality?”, he asked sheepishly.

“Need you ask? If you were just a visitor, a tourist who was a friend of a friend…I would say a few more days.”, replied Heather.

“Ok, that would be fair, but am I just a visitor, a friend of a friend?”

“Nope.”

Heather was trying to keep a straight face, as too was Phil. They knew they were playing with each other.

“What am I then?”

“You are family” replied Heather, turning to Phil as her stoic face melted. “You stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” Phil had been started to feel he had finally found his home, but was reluctant to allow himself to go with his feelings. He was afraid he may have been deceiving himself.

The gravel road was still in good condition even though it had been over a year since it was graded. There were occasional potholes with more in some sections which Heather mostly avoided, catching the odd one or two when she attempted to straddle the largest in a cluster. Phil looked into the side mirror but all he could see was the dust following them. Over the dam wall and up out of the trees to the fields of corn and pastures where cattle could be seen happily grazing.

“Where should we head to first?”, asked Heather.

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“How about we have a quick look at the Toyota dealership”, replied Phil.

“Good idea. That BMW will cause you grief if you keep hold of it.” Heather, behind the wheel of her old Hilux with window open and her long light grey‐blonde hair blowing in the wind was transformed from the caring and intelligent mother‐of‐all who Phil shared so much with in the morning, to the women from the land, full of local knowledge and ready for the adventure of going into town.

“Heather?”

“Yep.” Heather was becoming familiar with Phil calling her name before asking her something. She was learning how the intonation and emphasis he placed on her name indicated what he was about to say. If he said her name as a question, he was probably unsure. But if he lowered his voice and said her name with a hint of command, he was going to tell her something he considered profound. This time he said her name as a question, more tentative than usual.

“Was Rachael flirting with me this morning?”

“When?”, asked Heather a little brusquely, her stoic face returned.

“When she was leaving.”

“She was and she wasn’t” replied Heather, again not wanting to make it easy for Phil. She was well aware of her daughter’s glances and stares. She had observed Rachael looking at Phil, but had preferred to leave it without comment, letting Phil work it out for himself.

“What do you mean?”, asked Phil sincerely.

“Give it time and you will discover either way”

Phil could see Heather was not going to speak on behalf of her daughter so he pushed it out of his mind. He looked out the window at the kranz in the distance from where they had come, which immediately led his thoughts back to Rachael’s wave and her smile. It wasn’t really a smile, he thought, trying to convince himself. But his mind told him it was Rachael’s eyes that were smiling back at him.

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“I didn’t think you would leave it at that”, said Heather mockingly. “Alright. Rachael is lonely. She spends all day with her children and craves a friend, a male friend who she can share with. There aren’t too many to choose from around here. She is attracted to your intelligence. That makes her a sapiosexual. Sounds horrible, but it’s true, we’ve talked about it before. Add that to her ability to see people’s ‘denial truths’, as you call them, and it ends up a big challenge for her to find a close male friend. Rachael is a wonderful person with a loving and caring heart, if you haven’t already noticed.” Heather added the last bit involuntarily. She didn’t want to interfere in her daughter’s life, nor that of her new friend, Phil. But it was her instinct to do so.

“I have picked up on that. I only need to see her with Moli and hear her talk about her children at the orphanage”, Phil added.

“Well, that is not enough for her. I cannot see her doing that all her life. There is more to our Rachael than trying to stop orphaned children from growing up to lead a life of crime or destitution. It’s heartbreaking for her.”

Phil had quickly developed empathy for Rachael to match his admiration. “It is sad. She amazes me how she faces each day knowing the near hopelessness of the situation.”

“Listen, I know you won’t take advantage of her so just enjoy her company. A man in your condition couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

Phil didn’t know if Heather was being callous or caring, giving her the benefit of his doubt and choosing the latter. “Thanks for the advice.”

Heather hoped Phil would take her advice, for the benefit of both her daughter and himself.

“Phil, for all your knowledge, you are still only human. The path you have chosen with Beatrice and the children is extremely courageous but it is far from easy. It would be good for you to have a friend you can confide in, like you have done with me. Whatever is meant to be will be. Just relax and enjoy life, it won’t hurt you to do that sometimes.”

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They reached the bitumen and everything went quieter. The rattles were less and the roar of the gravel had gone. Heather and Phil retreated to their own thoughts for the remainder of the journey into Ficksburg.

“Here we are”, said Heather pulling up at the Toyota dealer.

Phil and Heather looked at the cars and four‐wheel drives for about five minutes whilst a salesman finished off his call. Phil was thinking a four‐wheel drive would be best, considering the condition of the road into the farm. He was thrown when the salesman asked him if he preferred a ‘bakkie’. Once Phil explained he was an Australian, the salesman became excited at the prospect of meeting a foreigner and apologised for using the local vernacular. Fifteen minutes later the deal was completed.

With business concluded Phil returned to Heather who was outside looking at used vehicles, wondering how many more times she could take her old Hilux around the clock before it gave up the ghost.

“Find anything?” Heather enquired.

“After going through the options with the salesman I settled on a Landcruiser with all the bells and whistles” answered Phil.

Heather was taken aback. She thought Phil was looking for a Hilux like hers but not quite so old. “What came over you to buy a Landcruiser, may I ask?”

“I might be here for longer and who knows how much driving we may need to do in the future.”

Phil was also thinking if his stay in South Africa was to end up shorter than he envisaged, John wasn’t the type of man to begrudge Heather and Jimmy a new vehicle, after all, their Hilux was over ten years old.

“When will it be ready?” asked Heather.

“It has to come up from Cape Town. Probably three to four days. He said he would let me know.”

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Heather was preparing herself for the gossip. “The man who served you is a friend of mine. Let me correct that. His parents are…, were…, friends of mine.”

Phil peered down at the business card he was handed. “Ruan Janse van Rensburg”, he read aloud, stumbling with the pronunciation.

“His father was Harold Janse van Rensburg. He was a mayor before apartheid ended and passed away about eight years ago. His son had taken over this dealership before then. I only know Ruan well enough to say hello and occasionally ask him how his mother is.” Heather was looking towards the door Phil had exited the showroom from in case Ruan appeared. “Did he ask where you were staying?”

“I told him I was your guest”. Phil answered, sensing there was more to Heather’s question.

“It doesn’t matter, it would spread regardless”, Heather said dismissively.

Phil was becoming concerned. “Tell me, what’s the issue Heather. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no…, you did good. It’s just this small town. Everyone will know within the next day or two that I have a guest who must be staying long term since he just bought the most expensive vehicle anyone in these parts would own. And hardly anyone could own. What does that tell you about Ficksburg?”

“I’m really sorry.” Phil was genuinely distressed because he, maybe better than most, knows how gossip leads to trouble.

“Don’t you apologise for the flaws of others. We’ll sort it out when the news dies down”, said Heather in her best calming voice. “I will need to tell Rachael in case they book the church for your wedding and she starts receiving requests to be invited”, Heather said, tongue in cheek.

Heather dismissed anymore thoughts of the impending gossip and was over the surprise of Phil’s vehicle purchase. Now she had come to terms with all that, she could see Phil was looking further ahead than she had been. Still, it was an expensive vehicle. Was this the sign she had been unknowingly waiting for? It was a strong indication of all Phil had said about John and was tangible evidence he was very wealthy. The vehicle, along with her short discussion with John that morning

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Chapter 20 Ficksburg meant she only needed a little more convincing of John’s commitment to the project. Fancy that, she chuckled to herself, ‘I just watched my house guest buy a top‐of‐the‐range Landcruiser in under fifteen minutes’. No longer was this just a hope, this was becoming real and her body began to tingle with a healthy mix of joy and eagerness. It really was game on, she thought. “Good. Where to now?”

“Let’s go business shopping”, said Phil feeling he was about to conquer the world.

Beatrice informed Phil and Heather there were two businesses for sale in Ficksburg. The first was an internet café in Brand Street, not far from where they were parked on the corner of Brand and McCabe Streets. Phil and Heather inspected the location from the street before entering the large but dimly lit café. The only person in sight was a young man almost asleep behind a counter at the rear of the shop. There were about a dozen computer terminals sitting idly on a motley collection of tables with office chairs that looked like they were reclaimed from the local rubbish dump. Various posters littered the walls, probably discards from a travel agency or tourist office, some with their corners hanging down and one was upside down. It was far from what Phil was expecting but it mattered little. The cost of new furniture, a few pales of paint and some new signage was neither here nor there if he were to continue the internet café business. The affable young man at the counter jumped to his feet when he heard Phil stomping his feet as he approached. He flashed his white teeth in a welcoming smile, it wasn’t too often he had customers, especially white people. He introduced himself as Bongi Kolisi and provided the name of the business owner who could be found in another business not too far away. An hour later Phil and Heather had the complete picture. The business was for sale because the owner of the building was increasing the rental substantially in a month’s time when the lease came up for renewal. There were other rooms in the building which the property owner had not renovated and were not readily useable as it was an old stone building with a chequered past. At one time it was the local police station, housing police cells. The property owner had decided he was going to lease all the rooms and the shop under a single lease, an option Phil considered short‐sighted but advantageous for Beatrice. The old cell walls were solid and many of the steel bars remained, especially across the small windows facing out of the rear of the building. The current business owner had secured a good broadband connection when the optic fibre cables was laid a few years previously. That would save a lot of headaches, he thought.

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Another hour later following productive negotiations with the property owner saw Phil and Heather attain agreement for a long‐term lease and consensus on allowable internal renovations. They returned to the businessman and purchased the cafe for about a third of the price of the Landcruiser. The new ex‐owner of the internet cafe couldn’t believe his good fortune. He was prepared to walk away from the business at the end of the lease in the belief no one would be crazy enough to buy a business incapable of turning a profit when the rent trebled. Phil knew he had been generous, everything inside the café would end up in a rubbish skip, nothing was of value. He could’ve waited until the lease expired and paid nothing for the business but he preferred to secure the property whilst it still had a leaseholder. He believed if he stretched his optimism, he could have Beatrice up and running within the final month of the old lease.

Bongi’s eyes lit up when Heather introduced Phil as his new boss. His old boss was his uncle and he only sat in the shop at his father’s request. Bongi thought his uncle could be a tyrant at times, so without him he was happy to continue sitting in the shop for Phil. When Phil and Heather inspected the other rooms Bongi tagged along at a distance and overheard snippets of their conversation. He was intrigued by what he had heard. No longer would his father make him sit in his uncle’s shop, but he decided to stick around, if only to satisfy his curiosity for what this strange man with the odd accent was up to.

They departed the café and Heather took Phil on a quick tour of the town. Heather showed him the border control at the bridge where Rachael crossed into Lesotho each day. What a grim process to go through twice a day, he thought. Normally Heather should be tired from all the talking and negotiations which had started very early that morning, but today had not been a normal day. For starters, she would not normally talk with someone for as long as she did with Phil. Even with Jimmy they would save conversation for the next day or for the rest of the week. However, her tiredness was pushed aside by her excitement at being part of something so incredible, she had difficulty finding a word or phrase to call it. All Heather kept thinking was Beatrice was going to be nurturing the children in her country. She was thankful to whatever greater power that may exist, for delivering Phil, John and Beatrice into her life.

The sun was setting as the old Hilux with its load of supplies from the butcher and Pick n Pay headed along McCabe Street. Phil had ensured Heather bought way more

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Heading towards the R26 Heather remembered the tragedy that took place some seven years ago. She had remembered it every time she drove out of town in the past seven years. It was still as fresh in her mind as if it had occurred only weeks ago. “That township we just passed is Meqheleng Township”, announced Heather, breaking into Phil’s silent review of the day and the substantial progress they had made.

“The one with hardly any lights on?”, asked Phil.

“You noticed. The other side of Visser Street has street lights and plenty of electricity. Most of the streets in Meqheleng are gravel and still without names or lighting. That’s by the by, because what I’m going to tell you happened back in twenty eleven. There was a march from there towards the municipal building in Ficksburg. It was led by a man whose name I will never forget, Andries Tatane. There were elderly people and children marching with him. It was peaceful enough.”

The sun had disappeared, leaving only a faint glow above the kranz. Phil could just make out Heather’s face from the dashboard lights and occasional oncoming car. Her head pushed forward, eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wrinkles on her neck were gone as her skin was taut, almost grimacing as she once again revisited the story, she was about to share with Phil.

“As they closed in on the municipal building there were riot police waiting and they were hit with water cannons. Seeing the elderly hit by the water, Andries ripped his shirt off and demanded they hit him instead. He had no weapon of any kind but the police attacked him with their batons, beating him and then he was shot twice at point blank, in the chest with rubber bullets. They continued beating him even when he fell. He died about fifteen minutes later and was left there by the police.”

“That’s awful”, said Phil. “No wonder you will never forget it. It’s unbelievable what humans do to each other. What was the march about?”

“Electricity and water, if you can believe it. There was rarely electricity in the township. There were water shortages and raw sewage flowed into the streets from broken pipes. Black South Africans throughout the country were fed up with the 427

Chapter 20 Ficksburg lack of improvement from the ANC government. It had been nearly twenty years and still the people were waiting. It was a peaceful march, which had grown out of frustration for the lack of services and squalor they had to live in. He died for no purpose, nothing much has changed.”

Both remained quiet following Heather’s story. Phil had been imagining the beating and killing of the man as Heather described. He didn’t want to create anymore pictures in his mind so he let it wander elsewhere.

After another few minutes, Heather was wanting Phil to talk to her, keep her alert for the remainder of the drive home. “What are you thinking about”, she asked.

“This and that”, replied Phil.

“Go on, tell me.”

“I was thinking about your story of the march, but wanted to think about something else. I started thinking about the wilds of Africa. The lions and giraffes and then the elephants. Your story of the march and the crazy killing of its leader and the wild elephants somehow triggered me into remembering videos I watched some time ago by a Buddhist acharya…”

“A what?”, Heather asked.

“A Buddhist acharya. It’s a learned person or teacher. In this case she is a Buddhist”, replied Phil, speaking louder because of the road noise.

“Who?”

“Pema Chödrön. She is an American who is a Tibetan Buddhist. I listened to her before I read Alex’s books. My psychologist gave me a podcast and I found some more of hers on YouTube. At the time I found her quite helpful…”

“Where do the elephants come in?”, Heather asked.

Phil dug deep, pushing a few cobwebs aside in his mind. “I remember her describing the mind as being like a wild elephant. She said that when the mind is out of control it was like a wild elephant, a lot of destruction could occur and a lot of harm could come to others and ourselves. I haven’t thought about her teachings much since reading Alex, but it just came back to me.” 428

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“Interesting, the mind is like a wild elephant…, I can see that”, Heather said.

“Then I asked myself what is it about the mind causing her to see it as a wild elephant? I tried to imagine her reply if it was explained to her that the ‘wildness’ of mind she was talking about was those times people were almost out of control in pursuing what is going to make them feel good and create self‐worth.”

“Not too sure she would accept that”, said Heather. “Can you remember anything else she said?”

Phil tried to remember. A word came to him. “Propensity”, he said. “She gave a talk on propensity…; ‘the propensity to be bothered’…, that was it. I remember now. It was about becoming upset and angry by what others say or do and she spoke about apportioning blame. Either blaming the person who said or did what caused the upset or blaming oneself for becoming upset. She said people have a pre‐existing ‘propensity’ to become upset, which can be triggered at any time. I remember her talking about using meditation to isolate and remove the propensity.”

Heather had her own thoughts on Buddhism. She didn’t feel hostility towards it, just saw it is another religion taking advantage of the crisis humanity was in. “I’ve read some Buddhist teachings over the years. Most of it is common sense, but I found an absence of a unifying explanation for humanity’s issues. Every issue was dealt with independently and had its own teaching. It is more about coping mechanisms rather than finding and teaching the truthful causes. That propensity thing you just mentioned…, it’s probably when people have their ego bruised. Everyone has beliefs or goals that are important to them. They are the ones Alex described as the search for power, fame, fortune and glory. Whatever it is each person is searching for is what becomes important to them and is intrinsically tied to their egocentricity. It’s like hallowed ground for them. If someone stomps on that hallowed ground it will trigger them to be angry, defensive or just upset. It undermines what a person holds onto for that all‐precious self‐worth. I believe that is her propensity thing.”

“What you said is absolutely true but I believe there is still more to it.”

Heather was curious about how Phil saw it. “Go on, tell me.”

“Ok, like I said, I agree with what you say, tied to the power, fame, glory and fortune thing which is feeding the ego. From my experiences I believe many people are so 429

Chapter 20 Ficksburg fragile because of their need to feel they are good and to have self‐worth that much of what they do or think becomes a critical contribution towards that power, fame, fortune and glory search, which we know is essentially their need to answer that question, ‘am I a good person?’. Any provocation, criticism or even a slight insensitivity towards a person can be an inflammatory trigger for their insecurity about whether they are a good person or not. The criticism from another may not have been intended as criticism, it is just perceived to be because of their fragility, or propensity as Pema Chödrön called it. For some, that fragility is like the finest of glasses and requires constant positive encouragement to prevent their ego being shattered. Once it does break into pieces it takes time to put it back together. Part of that reassembling lies with the alleged culprit who must wear the blame and say things like, ‘you did nothing wrong, you’re great, it was all my fault’, when they weren’t to blame at all. The propensity to be bothered is that fragility of the ego which is the fine line between feeling oneself is good or feeling oneself is bad. In other words, the fundamental internal divisiveness of humans. Their propensity to be bothered increases in line with their fragility. Hence, Pema Chödrön’s questioning of where the blame really lay and her assigning of blame to the person who has the propensity to be bothered and not to the provocateur.”

“That makes sense”, Heather said quickly before Phil finished his inhalation of breath pause.

“There are days when people are more fragile than other days. They are usually days where there is nothing in particular feeding their egocentricity, making it more vulnerable to being bruised. Those days coincide with increased defences and their radar is on full beam, detecting even the slightest sign of a possible attack on their sense of being a good person, essentially an attack on their ego. They are on edge and others must tread warily in their presence. Problem is most people are selfish and lack the sensitivity to recognise when a person is like this. Some are so selfish they detect when a person is having one of their ‘more sensitive’ days and they deliberately ignore it, saying to themselves, ‘why should they receive special treatment just because they can’t cope’. Some of these selfish people may even go one step further by taking advantage of a person on their fragile days and target them with the wrong kind of special treatment, especially if they carry some IOUs with the “sensitive’ person’s name on it. They take the opportunity to exact their pound of flesh. This is one of the ways humans are so cruel to each other at times.”

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“You know what makes the ‘bothered’ in propensity to be bothered even worse?”, asked Heather.

“No, tell me.”

“The conscious mind. It’s driven by competitiveness and needs to blame another person, any person or just something else. The hear their soul as a faint voice in the far‐off distance saying, ‘it’s not their fault, don’t blame them, take a look at yourself’”, explained Heather.

“It’s interesting you say that, because Pema Chödrön said everyone already has this little flame or ember of pain in their heart that they carry with them always and when we start blaming somebody else it is like pouring gasoline on the ember. In other words, we make matters worse by blaming someone else.”

Heather’s ears lit up. “Typical Buddhists. They reject Alex’s knowledge about the soul being pushed aside in favour of the conscious mind and the emptiness and loneliness that follows in favour of describing it as ‘an ember of pain in our hearts’. This is the romantic speak they have been getting away with for a very long time. And I’ll tell you something else. That little flame or glowing ember may be the case, but for some people it’s a raging bush fire that only needs a puff of warm wind to turn into a fireball.”

“Fair enough”, said Phil, “But at least give the Buddhists some credit for recognising there is pain inside people that they cannot shake.”

“Are you serious Phil? All religions say much the same thing. It’s their way of pulling people in. They tell people they have an ember of pain which cannot be extinguished but come join us and we will help stop it from flaring up.” Phil had touched on Heather’s raw nerve. She had long held the view that religions created more problems than they solved. They filled people’s heads with naïve and false ways of seeing things, preventing them from being open to the truth when it comes along.

“Ok, I accept that. Religions, even though they may ease the pain for some have utilised it to their advantage as well.” Phil didn’t wish for a discussion on the pros and cons of religion. “Can we move past that so I can finish my Pema Chödrön story?”

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“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know I have some strong feelings there…, a propensity perhaps”, Heather said with a self‐deprecating chuckle.

Phil could see what Heather said was entirely true. “Apology accepted. I do agree with you but I need to finish this propensity thing first. Moving along. The ‘ember of pain in our hearts’ Pema Chödrön is referring to is none other than the need to feel we are a good person and have self‐worth. She refers to it as pain because it is. If we don’t feel we are good and worthy we feel worthless and bad, which is pain and upset. Trying to shift that pain is the driver adults have which fuels their competitive and selfish ways. The provocation or criticism is placing that feeling of being good under siege. What she doesn’t explain is why we need to blame someone else. So, I’ll tell you what it is.”

“Go on Phil, you tell me” Heather said teasing his seriousness.

Phil let Heather’s comment go through to the keeper, he couldn’t stop his own momentum. “That is the conscious mind trying to protect itself, trying to say ‘I am good’ and if it listened to the soul it would feel bad. She called blaming someone else ‘ego clinging’, which it exactly is. The conscious mind is protecting our ego. And the pouring of gasoline on the ember when we blame someone else is what you said earlier. It makes it worse because our soul speaks out, ever so quietly, in defence of blaming others. We hear it, sometimes and feel guilty for shifting that blame. We ignore our soul and we feel bad for that as well. What Pema Chödrön doesn’t explain or doesn’t know…, is the competitive and selfish drive in people prevents them from blaming themselves. The extreme ego clinging, as she called it, will never stop people from shifting the blame away from themselves. We might compromise and admit blame to regain the social innocence, but our inner space thoughts are holding firmly to the blaming of someone else. It’s a double whammy alright.” Phil thought about it a bit more. “It may even be a triple whammy if we include feeling bad for not listening to our soul.”

Heather’s hackles lowered, was feeling contrite. “It surely is unfortunate Buddhism doesn’t embrace the knowledge we have. It would help people so much more to know why they have ‘an ember of pain in their hearts’ that they carry around forever.”

“I couldn’t agree more. My psychologist had me doing all the meditation stuff to try and extinguish that ember by focusing on my propensity to be bothered whenever

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I observed selfishness in action. I think his belief was the propensity would go if I sat in the feeling often enough during meditation. Once I had read Alex’s book, I realised how much hocus pocus that all was. All I needed was the knowledge of what was actually going on. The truth, that was all I needed.”

Heather loved listening to Phil dissect humanity. He made her wonder what he had been doing most of his life. Was he a fly that flew from wall to wall watching and studying human interactions continuously? “Phil, I think you need to get another life.”

“Why?”, he asked without taking offence. He knew Heather wouldn’t be out to make him feel bad for his views.

“Because you spend so much of your time studying people and thinking about what you observe. How long did it take you to work all that out?”, she said with a chuckle to let Phil know she wasn’t serious. “You do think deeply about people and usually find the answers. Beatrice is going to benefit so much from your insight.”

“Thank you, Heather. I appreciate you saying that.”

“That’s quite ok. Back to your Pema Chödrön. I’m curious what you thought about her teachings”, Heather asked.

“Like I said, I listened to her many times before I read Alex’s book. I listened that often I could recite much of what she said. At the time I thought there was great wisdom”, Phil said.

“And what about now? Still great wisdom?”, Heather asked.

“Yes, still great wisdom, but only for those who haven’t learnt the truth. Once you know that all of humanity’s woes come from giving up the selfless ideal world of our instinctive self and denying it ever existed to join the competitive rat race, you can see the cause of every issue clearly. It really is as obvious as the nose on your face.”

“That’s an odd way to describe it. I would hope my cute little nose wasn’t that obvious”, Heather said. Phil laughed at the way Heather said ‘cute little nose’, repeating it back to her in his best mimicking, triggering Heather to join in the laughter as well. She had felt like a good laugh.

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When the laughing had passed and both were sitting silently, rocking with the movement of the vehicle, Heather’s thoughts returned to Buddhism. She knew she was a touch dismissive of Buddhists because of the romanticism and mysticism created by the west for everything Buddha. Phil gave her a clue to that romanticism. By using terms such as ‘a little flame or ember of pain in the heart’ and ‘the mind was like a wild elephant’, Buddhism was so much less confronting to people. She imagined if she was naïve, she would prefer to hear the metaphors in a gentle monk’s voice to Phil bellowing ‘you gave up your soul and you are all competitive and selfish’. She reasoned that was why it was popular. People could put a hand on their heart and go all gooey as they felt the heat of their ember of pain. Regardless, she thought it nonsense the way the west embraced Buddhism, but at least it validated Alex’s knowledge, with a bit of poetic licence attached, and was evidence people were in dire straits and searching for a saviour. The Dalai Lama certainly didn’t reject the way the west viewed him, not letting anyone down by performing his role as if trained in Hollywood. It was all about creating an aura to attract people to him and to Buddhism in general. Like all religions and ideologies, they require money and money comes from people. The west had made it easy for Buddhism to prosper, even differentiating it from other religions by questioning if it was actually a religion. She thought the Buddhists were clever in not resolving that issue, it worked for them to allow the question to remain unanswered. Phil was correct, she thought, Buddhist teachings did provide good wisdom for helping people cope, especially if they were intent on withholding the truth.

It was some five minutes later before either spoke again. It was Phil’s curiosity that broke the silence.

“What are you thinking about?”, he asked.

“This and that. Just about Buddhism”, Heather answered casually. “I was thinking how close they are without grasping the truth. You asked me this morning about books I’ve read. You wanted to know if I thought man was searching for help…, remember?”

“Yep. But I can’t remember what you said.”

“Neither can I.” Heather could only just remember Phil’s question. “Have you thought about how many books there are about the soul?”

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“Millions. Self‐help books on the soul are churned out almost daily.” Phil had googled ‘books about the soul’ months ago and he remembered some phenomenal results figure at the top of the screen. He had assumed multiple websites covered the same book, but even allowing for that it meant there were an awful lot of books on the soul in circulation.

“There’s your answer.” Heather let him ponder that one for a few seconds. “Humans know there is something in themselves that is better than they are. Whenever someone believes they have found how to access their soul, they write a book about it. Easy money. People buy the book, access their soul, but they can’t keep it going. What do they do when the new method doesn’t work as it once did?”

Heather and Phil spontaneously answered Heather’s question together. “Buy another book.”

Phil had another one of his ideas. “Why don’t we ask Beatrice to write a book. ‘The AI’s Guide to Finding Your Soul’. We publish it and use the money to fund everything.”

“Does she know enough to write a book?”, Heather asked, thinking Phil might be serious.

“Doesn’t matter. Most of those books out there are regurgitations of earlier books. Beatrice can read at light speed. She does what everyone else does. A fancy title, knock up some brilliant out of body experience and bring it home with profound teachings…, straight from the soul.”

“You are such a cynic, Phil Blake.”

“No argument there.”

“Why not a cookbook, ‘Beatrice’s AI Recipes for Your Soul’.”

“Now who’s the cynic?”, Phil asked with a laugh.

Heather brushed the humour aside. “I brought it up simply to say this. If there was no soul, there wouldn’t be the millions of books about it. There wouldn’t be spirituality books either…, which are the same thing…, and there wouldn’t be

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Buddhism. The answer to your question this morning is in the numbers. People are searching for help. They just do it privately, mostly with the door shut.”

Phil chuckled at Heather’s reference to people’s inability to share with each other their search for their soul.

Heather recalled something else from the morning’s discussion. “John said we were to watch a documentary and something about a walk in the woods?”

“Yeah, I have remembered. Maybe later tonight?”

“I don’t think so, not tonight. It’s been too big a day”, Heather said with tiredness in her voice.

“There’s no rush.”.

“Will the documentary tell me what this singularity is? It seemed to be very important to Beatrice?”

“It certainly will be important. I can assure you of that. But like you said, not tonight, it can wait.” Phil was both emphatic and dismissive, preferring not to talk about it at that moment.

“Is Beatrice listening to us now?” asked Heather.

“Always…., she needs to hear everything.”

Heather remembered her trips with Rachael and her tantrums when her phone cut out. “But I do believe there is no coverage along this road.”

“It’s not a problem.” Phil understood the bare bones of how it worked, so he thought he would make his explanation as simple as possible. “It’s a bit complicated how it works. John and the boys…, actually, I think it was Vinnie, developed a method for Beatrice to maintain a presence in a very limited form when she is not connected. Apparently, my cell phone has much greater memory than standard cells. Vinnie does something to them. I believe he modifies them quite a bit. Beatrice is able to operate enough to record everything ready for when she is reconnected again. I have no idea how they keep her alive when my cell is out of range, but there you go, technology.”

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It was a dark night as the moon was yet to rise. Heather was keeping her eyes fixed to the road ahead. “I try not to drive at night”, she said. Fortunately, there were very few oncoming cars and only the occasional car overtaking.

“I’m happy to drive for you, if you would like”, offered Phil.

“It’s not far now. I know the road pretty well. …. And so I should, after driving it for forty years”, replied Heather. “I knew how to drive long before I was allowed to have a licence. We all did, it was how it was living on a farm.”

“You must have some interesting memories and great stories from your childhood”, said Phil, helping Heather to watch the road. She turned onto the gravel and the rattles began. Phil thought it didn’t seem as loud as it was in the morning, until he realised, they had the windows up.

“Yeah…, it was good. I loved my childhood. We walked everywhere, up the mountains, followed the creeks and if we didn’t find mischief, it would normally find us. There was always a party, a wedding, a christening or someone’s birthday going on somewhere. We all knew each other and spent time at each other’s farm. It was a great life…, but times do change, and we definitely can’t stop that”, Heather reminisced.

Phil agreed with Heather, it was much worse now than we he was a nipper, roaming the bush alone, riding his pushbike all day through paddocks, fire trails and places where if he had fallen, he wouldn’t be found for days or even weeks. He reminded himself that children don’t do those things these days. He questioned if the things his generation did as teenagers had really been replaced by more interesting activities? He agreed with what Heather said about times changing, “They certainly have changed”, he said.

Phil listened to the gravel road under the chunky tyres of Heathers ute. He remembered the question he had asked about books that he couldn’t remember a few minutes earlier. “It was about old books. That was what I asked. I wanted to know if you had found older books, written when you were very young or even earlier. Books asking similar questions as people do today. Doesn’t matter now. If you think of any later you might let me know.

“Will do.” Heather went quiet but she could sense Phil was contemplating something. Earlier that day on the veranda, she had noticed Phil’s peculiar body 437

Chapter 20 Ficksburg language when he was deep in thought. He was doing it again now. “What’s going on in that head of yours this time?”, she asked.

Phil didn’t miss Heather’s reference to his endless commentary about society and people. “Still thinking how different it was when we were young and trying to imagine how different again if I was born even further back. Makes me wonder if there were people concerned with such matters back then as they are today? You know, the issues people face causing millions of books about the soul to be written. My guess is they were concerned about more relevant issues. Life was tough, that was expected, but I suspect it wasn’t seen as broken. The thing that is most different today is how easy it is for individuals to publicly express themselves. Books are still important and I hope that remains, but there are movies and television, documentaries, websites and blogs, social media and that old mainstay of radio still kicks on. No one needs to stand on a street corner waving placards, preaching ‘the end is nigh’. I wonder if having all these ways of delivering a message has emboldened people to say much more. What I’m really asking is this. Are people more damaged now than fifty or a hundred years ago. Have us humans pushed our souls further away? More than than back then? And because of that, we have increased insight into what we are feeling. We have narrowed it down to something going on with our soul. Maybe a hundred years ago they’re souls played enough of a role they didn’t question its periodic absence. That’s what I was thinking about.”

“They’re valid enough things to think about”, replied Heather.

“I sense humanity’s crescendo of despair as we speak. The younger generation are in pain and they don’t know why and they don’t know how or who can fix it. That’s where the millions of books and shows on the soul, spirituality and the like come in. Demand dictates the market, one might say. It appears religion has failed to give the answers they seek. Recently, they have been throwing out much of the new age and spiritual stuff which grew from the seventies. They are investing heavily in political correctness to at least give themselves guidelines to live by. I see little wrong with all this ‘politically correct’ stuff, apart from being a form of thought police. Fundamentally it’s fine. I just feel saddened that it is needed.”

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“And the older generation, like me, and you in a few more years as well as all those older again, complain about the younger generations”, Heather could feel this was going to be a big one, it had been brewing and she was in the mood. “…and probably fair enough as well. After all, the behaviour of the younger generation isn’t great and shows they have been more affected during their childhood than we were. But we did it to them. I don’t mean you and me personally, but the Baby Boomers with their selfishness and competitiveness, two working parents and divorces, dysfunctional families believing the answer lay in bigger houses, shinier cars and the best schools. The younger generation have come into a world where the battle between capitalism under the disguise of democracy stands over the death throes of communism. That post‐war ideological battle has been replaced by a new one, the ideological battle between capitalism and Islam. That affects everyone, particularly younger people who cannot appreciate it is deeper than just ideology.”

Jimmy had opened the gate earlier and Heather drove through without stopping to shut it behind her.

“We gave them the drug culture, the nuclear bomb and created the internet, placing pornography on tap, accessible anytime, anywhere and social media which is anything but social as it descends a generation into perpetual narcissistic loneliness. We stole their childhood and now look at them, competing before they reach senior school.” Heathers fervour was increasing. “In this country, even the children of the privileged must fight hard to keep going. If they close their eyes for ten minutes someone will take it all away from them. Inheriting wealth can be like a slowly tightening noose. Living without wealth is worse. People find their self‐ worth through material wealth, so without it they feel second class. Some feel they deserve to be kicked around. Society is in denial of suicide. It is the third most common cause of death for those under twenty‐five. What does that tell us? So much of this is down to us. I could go on, but I won’t…; because that was our gate. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Jimmy to go down and close it.”

For the rest of the drive up to the farmhouse on the highveld, both were silent. Heather pulled into the farm shed and turned the car off and opened her door. She turned to Phil placing her hand on his arm, “Sorry about that. I find it all too much at times and …, I’m sorry. I usually unload onto Rachael and Jimmy, but I’m tired and …”

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Phil was understanding and empathetic. “It’s ok. Really it is. I feel like letting it all out at times as well. You are absolutely correct with what you said.”

“I know, but unfortunately, there are so few others who see it the same way. There was one more thing I wanted to say, if that’s ok? I will feel I have let it all out if I just finish it off”, asked Heather squeezing Phil’s arm a little bit tighter.

“Go on, say it. I want to hear”, Phil replied, encouraging Heather to lift her burden.

“There are thousands if not millions of mothers in the world who have done their best with their children and are still doing their best. But they can never nurture properly and they should never feel bad because of that. Nurturing is instinctive, but the world of their parents stole much of that valuable instinct and replaced it with what they needed to survive, they needed to compete. Mankind’s world has been competitive for thousands of years but the past handful of generations have become so much more competitive. Those mothers trying to nurture could only becoming competitive if their instinct to love selflessly was ignored. Children do bring their mother’s instinct back. Women do let their soul in when they become mothers. Which is why having our own children is so beautiful. It’s a beautiful rush whenever we touch base with our soul. It’s that selflessness of the soul making mothers feel good, feeling extraordinarily wonderful. But the competitive world fight’s back and they just cannot maintain the nurturing, no matter how much love they have for their children. Our generation of mothers probably had it tougher than the previous, for all the reasons I said and more. This younger generation are starting to have babies now. Those babies are going to have so much less nurturing. Their life as children and young adults is going to be so very difficult. It just overwhelms me. I really find it hard to cope thinking about it.” Heather’s emotions overtook her. She was crying but trying so hard not to. Phil, who had been cradled by Heather that very morning, found himself not quite knowing what to do.

Jimmy had seen Heather’s headlights coming up the drive and had made his way down to the farm shed to greet her. He had stopped before entering, listening to the woman he adored, loved and cared for more than anyone else in his world. Phil was holding Heathers hand and about to console her when Jimmy entered the garage, turning the light on as he did. He appeared at Heather’s open door, gave Phil a knowing and thankful nod as he helped her from the car. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity to Phil, Heather pressed against Jimmy’s chest as he gently stroked her hair making calming cooing sounds as one would with a child. 440

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Phil knew Heather was overcome by her emotions but he admired the beauty of two people who were extraordinarily loving of each other, totally enmeshed in each other’s lives, now expressing that love and empathy like he had never seen before.

Phil felt a bit awkward. He decided it was best to start unloading the supplies. Heather’s back was to Phil as he walked past and with his hand, Jimmy motioned Phil to approach him. Phil walked slowly towards Jimmy and Heather and as he neared them Jimmy ever so slowly opened his arm and gently pulled Phil into the huddle. He was nervous, it felt strange but somehow it also felt right. No longer was he all alone, his emotions were being drawn into the lives of these two very honest, very caring and extremely loving people. Heather lifted her hand, placing it around Phil and pulled him closer. “Thank you, Phil, you’re my miracle”, she whispered.

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It was nearly two weeks since John had embraced Phil before he departed in the air taxi. That was the start of his journey to Africa. The start of his search for the precious mothers who would train Beatrice to nurture children.

It had been a very busy two weeks. Phil had departed with the sun shining on a seventy‐degree day. It was now mid‐October and the days were hovering around fifty degrees with the nights closing in on freezing. With geothermal heating in the house and barn, John hadn’t really noticed the rainy days or the colder nights and it was not yet cold enough to light up the wood burners. Thomas had secured plenty of firewood during the summer months in preparation for winter, which was little more than a month away.

John’s trusted building contractor, who had overseen his barn conversion, the renovation of Thomas and Adel’s farmhouse and the construction of a number of the buildings comprising Thomas’s farm, had been to measure up and produced a set of plans. John was yet to determine exactly how many treehouses he would construct. His objective was to have at least one erected before the heavy snow arrived and if the weather held out, he hoped to have two houses ready before the end of the year. He had three very different designs to choose from, all with two, three or four bedrooms, en‐suite bathrooms and well‐appointed living areas. He had enjoyed pouring over the plans, making changes and suggestions, discussing them at length with the architect. Many of his ideas were incorporated into each of the three designs. He had settled on a design for the first two and had commissioned the factory near Albany to commence fabrication. The first was pencilled in for delivery in the third week of November and the second a week later. Normally it would have taken four to six months for delivery but the team at John’s property development company were able to lend their considerable support, pulling the odd string or two. It also helped when his trusted building contractor supplied some of his boys to assist the Albany fabricator.

John was full of purpose and excitement. The tree houses were a mix of double‐ glazed windows, insulated timber panels delivered with their external timber cladding attached. Thomas and John had cleared an area in the larger of the two barns up on the ridge for the deliveries of furniture, bespoke kitchens, appliances and soft furnishings. All had been chosen by his interior designers. The larger items were stored in a barn at Thomas’s end of the property. With Patsy leading the way, 442

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John visited the site each day to watch progress, discussing problems and solutions with the project manager.

For the past week the sound of chainsaws were interspersed by the sounds of the post hole auger shaking the earth and stones free before plunging earthward to repeat the drilling. Late in the day the huge generator Thomas had hired would start up and the banks of LED floodlights would swathe the site in brilliant light. Geothermal contractors were also drilling and installing pipes, whilst waste water specialists were ready for tanks to be delivered within the next few days. Adel and Thomas were cooking for up to ten hours each day, serving hot food from the gazebos normally used at their weekly market stalls. John had placed an advertisement for a cook to help Adel and had received no less than fourteen applicants. It was the turn of the fifth cook to demonstrate her wares. John had been disappointed by the relentless search, but Adel was more positive this time. Cook number five spoke Spanish.

For the first few days after Phil’s departure to South Africa John had listened to most of his conversations with Heather and her family. Watching Beatrice and Emma together had filled him with optimism. Her participation with Emma in their first conversation was beyond his wildest hopes and he had noted the progress Beatrice was making on each successive time the two spent together. John had watched Heather prompting Beatrice that first night. But he noticed on each successive occasion, Heather’s input had been lessening. Beatrice was becoming very adept at guiding Emma’s thoughts. He suspected Beatrice was still some way off Jackie’s expectations, but the progress he observed gave him confidence Beatrice that any expectations Jackie may have will be soon surpassed. He had marvelled at Heather’s poise and guidance with Beatrice.

There was another reason contributing to John’s new found buoyant mood. He had listened intently to Phil talk to Heather about denial and noted how quickly he had developed trust in Heather. He observed how Phil viewed Heather as his confidant and nurturer. Phil discovered his denial whilst talking to Heather. He had revealed his selfishness and had spoken openly of his fear of being weakened by selfishness, blocking out all thoughts he may be selfishly motivated. John had been rocked by Phil’s admissions, but it had spawned in him a curiosity about his own denials. Phil had explained it well. The conscious mind tended to hide memories which were painful or challenged a person’s perception of themselves. Phil believed he wasn’t

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Chapter 21 Josh competitive and therefore he wasn’t selfish. But past selfish behaviour had once populated his memories. Heather’s own admissions of selfishness had prompted Phil’s memories to re‐enter his consciousness. This was how he discovered his mind had actively ignored the memories. It had effectively denied they existed. Phil had occasionally ‘smelled the perfume still hanging in the air’, becoming upset that he may have been selfish and he may have pushed his soul away.

Upon listening to their conversation about denial, John had spent many hours contemplating his own denials. He had discovered them whilst meditating that afternoon following Phil’s first visit. This had brought only temporary relief. Over the following weeks he had fluctuated in and out of denial.

For most of his life he had hidden himself from the world as much as he could and even when he had to participate with the world, he would retreat at the first feelings of confusion or the pain of being confronted by the real world. He had felt he was strange, a bit odd maybe, and he didn’t really like feeling that way. He had developed a denial of being different to others by replacing any such thoughts with the belief he preferred his own company and his own environment, his house in the woods. Phil had introduced him to the concept of ‘giving up’ the soul during adolescence. The journey initiated by Phil had ended in confirmation that he hadn’t banished his soul. His soul was still guiding his conscious mind in all his thoughts and actions.

Phil and Heather’s denial discussion had been the catalyst for a revisit of his own denials and the subsequent gradual release from those denials. He now believed his solitary life wasn’t his true destiny. Back in his late teens he had come to believe he was not meant to participate in the outside world. This had isolated him, secluded him and in so doing had caused him great pain. Denying his feeling of rejection by the world was essential. He had gone on to safeguard the denial by creating a love for his house, its trees and its lake, a love for his computers and a love of seclusion. He had completely convinced himself of this, almost. Just like Phil, every now and then he had ‘smelled the perfume still hanging in the air’.

Although, he still preferred to live in his house and its surrounding woods and nearby lake, he now felt he had options. He now understood why he entertained people with business proposals. They took the edge off his flawed belief that he was the oddball. People coming to him helped him believe he was one of them. He wasn’t odd. If he was as odd as he felt, no one would come near him. These visits 444

Chapter 21 Josh and his denial truth of loving his life in the woods had been integral to maintaining his denial.

Phil’s knowledge had definitely relieved him of his denial and allowed him to open his world to choice. Listening to Phil and Heather had finally locked in his understanding of the denials controlling his life. Phil was right, he had needed time to reinforce his earlier discoveries. However, for the time being he desired little else than living in his house in the woods, building tree houses to share with friends and helping Beatrice to emulate his mother. On a far grander scale, he was dedicated to sharing Beatrice with humanity, having her nurture the children of the world.

Security for Beatrice was John’s primary concern. He had been looking at options over the past couple of weeks and it was unequivocal, Beatrice required a more secure environment. He had researched commercial internet service providers. Their security varied and was in keeping with what was being protected. John believed when Beatrice goes online, she would be the most sought‐after piece of software in the short history of computers. She will motivate perpetrators of cyber theft, cyber terrorism and cyber‐attacks to leap to a whole new level. Beatrice will be like the proverbial hare in a greyhound race. The cyber criminals will discard whatever shonky ego‐driven nasty they were up to and set their sights on Beatrice like there was no tomorrow. The amateurs, those adrenaline junkie cyber joyriders would fall away first. The serious cyber criminals will lead the pack. They will salivate at the imagined immense wealth and all‐conquering power Beatrice will deliver. Each of them will want her for themselves. They will annihilate each other if needs be. They will stop at nothing in their hungry attempts to extract her code. She would be fought over by the most corrupted egos and the worst of the worst megalomaniacs.

John believed the military experienced the lowest incidence of cybercrime but seeking their protection would be as enjoyable as stepping out of the shark cage off Durban, during feeding time. He had to find a place, the location of which only those he trusted by necessity would be privy to. He then had to help Vinnie build the best damn cyber security in the world.

John called Josh, his business partner in the City. Having started with the company in 1995 as a junior with a degree in business from Fordham University, John had taken an interest in his progress and on those infrequent occasions John found himself at the head office he would endeavour to spend a few minutes one on one 445

Chapter 21 Josh with Josh. Just to gauge his satisfaction level. During the earlier meetings he had encouraged Josh to broaden his knowledge and build on what he learned at Fordham, particularly in finance and computing. Josh had heeded almost all advice John had given him and moved upward through a number of positions within the company before being promoted to chief executive officer three years ago. Within days of his appointment, he had brought in some very good people, fully vetted by Marty as well. Josh and his new people, along with the other twenty‐three senior people had grown the company substantially over the past three years. Josh was two years younger than John and both were hoping he would have a long career with the company. To that end, John had rewarded Josh with a small percentage ownership only three months ago.

“Hi Josh, do you have time at the minute to talk.”

“For you John, of course. Actually, today has been one of my lighter days. I believe Kirsty has me down for a 2:15 so that gives us…half an hour. Is that enough…, I can push the 2:15 to 2:30 without a problem?”

“We should be good” John assured Josh.

“What can I do for you, John?”

“I need to talk with you about an issue I have up here. Look, I think it’s best we talk face to face. Can you clear some time for me tomorrow?”

“Sure. How about ten…, for two hours? We could have lunch too if you want to stick around.” Josh suggested.

“Possibly. I mean ten is fine and possibly lunch as well. See you at ten”, John said as he rang off.

Josh sat still for a minute or two speculating what could be troubling John. He had only seen him the once of late and that was three months ago. They had spoken on three other occasion, with today being the fourth. Requesting he clear space in his calendar and giving a ‘maybe’ for lunch amounted to extremely uncharacteristic behaviour for John. He did say the issue was at his end so Josh found peace in that and put it out of his mind.

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Vinnie, Hamish and John spent the rest of the day with Beatrice. Vinnie estimated they would have the security sorted by the end of the next week. John had always intended to use commercial providers for conventional security. This is the commonly used denial of access, using firewalls constantly updated with the commercial provider’s libraries of known viruses, malware and phishing and other less common forms of attack. John had decided a month ago to utilise the host’s security, but give Beatrice responsibility beyond that. Beatrice will be able to detect intruders using behavioural analysis. By quickly learning the behaviour of all those accessing her dedicated servers she will be capable of blocking anyone she considers a danger. John reasoned she would easily identify aberrant behaviour. With her advances in understanding people she could ‘speak’ with them to assess their intentions. Vinnie had agreed with John that Beatrice had far greater capabilities than a human to perform this task. For starters, she was many orders of magnitude faster than a human and could assess thousands, if not millions of simultaneous attacks. A human would be limited to assessing one intruder at a time and in the case of many intruders, a human would most likely need to isolate the computer from everyone. Additionally, Beatrice was conceived by John to be an expert in understanding and predicting human behaviour. With years of being John’s companion and more recent training under Phil and Heather, Beatrice was fast becoming the reality John had envisaged over a decade earlier.

Beatrice’s code was encrypted to the highest level. The part of Beatrice which unscrambles her code, called the decryption key, was stored in more than one location. She wrote to her memories in her own unique language. A language she invented. She constantly refined and rewrote her memories, at the same time altering and refining her own language. It was John’s intention that Beatrice would one day be free from any ownership. To this end, he intended handing over responsibility to her. When that moment came, encryption and a corresponding decryption key would no longer be required. It would be rewritten by Beatrice in her language, theoretically indecipherable by any human brain or any computer program. She would become untouchable.

Until the day Beatrice is set free, she will remain like a baby needing its mother’s protection for survival. John and Vinnie shared those maternal duties. John couldn’t predict how she would protect herself. That was the key. If neither Vinnie or John knew, no one else would either. She could survive on a minimal amount of code, moving from computer to computer until she found a place, she deemed safe. She

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Chapter 21 Josh could move her memory data anywhere if required, which would be highly unlikely. John was teaching her self‐defence to remove the need to flee from intruders. They wouldn’t give up, tracking her until cornered. He was like any other parent. What he desired most, was for Beatrice to stand her ground and stare down the biggest bully on the block.

For now, her behavioural analysis to detect intruders was vital. In parallel, Beatrice randomly created algorithms for scrambling or encrypting her code. The process always generated a decryption code for John. Until Beatrice was set free, the decryption key was the weakest link and would be the tiny piece of code a cyber‐ thief would search for. Hiding the decryption key was the piece of the puzzle John and Vinnie had been working on for weeks. Without it, a cyber‐thief would require the world’s fastest and most powerful computer to generate the decryption key. The only other alternative was using an AI comparable or superior to Beatrice to generate the key. In which case, Beatrice would no longer be the target.

Vinnie and John had been writing code for the past hour. Hamish was working on the robotic hardware Thomas had requested. It was for picking fruit and vegetables from trees or vines. Beatrice had operated ‘Lopez’, as Adel had affectionately called it when the boys trialled it a few weeks ago. They were waiting for a few very small parts to arrive from the machine shop for completion. Once assembled Hamish and Thomas would put Lopez through its paces, tweaking it in the field. They were all looking forward to seeing Beatrice physically emulating humans.

“We’re not far off finishing this, ‘Gov”, said Vinnie entering another line of code. “Did you feel that Beatrice?”, he asked.

“Not funny”, replied Beatrice.

“Did Hamish tell you to say that?”, asked Vinnie, knowing Beatrice always responded with the truth.

“Yes”, replied Beatrice.

“Lopez asked me if Hamish had a girlfriend”, quipped Vinnie, “something to do with the feel of his soft hands on her sensors.”

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John finished checking the code Vinnie had been writing that afternoon. “That’s looking good, Vinnie”, John said, praising Vinnie for his coding. “How much longer before we can start trials?”

“What’s today…, Thursday. If we work on it tomorrow…, over the weekend..., probably Monday afternoon and start trials Tuesday.”

Beatrice interrupted, “Hamish asked me to remind you of Syracuse on the weekend.”

“Sorry ‘Gov, but we planned to have a break this weekend”, Vinnie said regretfully, hoping John would be sweet with having the weekend off.

John recalled the boys had spent the previous two weekends working on Beatrice’s security. “No, you go and enjoy yourself. I can carry it on if I have some time. Whilst we’re telling each other our calendars…, I’m heading to the City first up tomorrow. I might stay at Maria’s as well. Haven’t seen her for quite some time. Take tomorrow off as well, if it helps any.”

Vinnie did a quick reassessment, “We had better aim for Wednesday or Thursday to start trials. Probably Thursday.”

Before John could reply to Vinnie a call came in on his cell.

“Hi Jackie, good to see you.”

“Hello John. Busy?”

“No, just finishing up here. Anything important?”

“Actually, I have some good news. I have been discussing Beatrice with a colleague of mine who specialises in children. She wants to come onboard.” Jackie was hoping this would be good news for John, waiting for his response.

“How soon?” John was concerned he wasn’t ready just yet. The interface was complete but trialling of Beatrice handling her own security would push it out another week or two.

“She’s keen to start as soon as we can. She would like a demonstration first.” Jackie was hoping this wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

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John paused as he thought about how he could juggle a demonstration without the security completed. Then there was the problem of Heather still in South Africa.

“We need another two weeks”, he said, wincing and hoping this wouldn’t be a problem.

“Like I said, she’s very keen and I think we should do something before then, even if it is a stopgap until you’re completely ready.” Jackie knew she was stretching the friendship, but she also knew John would do his best to please. She didn’t like taking advantage of John this way, but so far this was the only colleague who had shown interest.

“How about I come and meet her, introduce her to Beatrice, explain where we are at and show her Beatrice and Emma?”

“That might work”, Jackie could see her colleague talking with Beatrice and believed that experience alone would stimulate her enthusiasm enough for a week or two delay not to dampen.

“When?”, Jackie had grown accustomed to John’s directness. She knew he wasn’t impatient or being short because he didn’t want to speak with her. John was in his own world trying to make it all happen as quickly as possible. He had told her all about South Africa and Phil’s purchase of a business in which Beatrice will live. Additionally, she watched the almost daily videos John had sent her of the tree house construction. She also knew the three of them were frantically upgrading security, although she had no idea what John was talking about when he tried to explain the details. Jackie really liked John, but knew she had to be patient. She had to give John time to fully discover himself and bed that down before he could see her in the way she hoped he would. She prayed it wouldn’t be too far into the future.

“We could do it on the weekend”, said Jackie, grimacing a little at the thought she might be coming across just a tad demanding.

“I’m in the City tomorrow. Meeting Josh. I also promised Maria I would stay with her and reacquaint myself with her two boys. I believe they promised to be home over the weekend.” He was hoping Jackie didn’t think he was trying to avoid her.

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“I’m booked up on Monday, but Tuesday is free?” Jackie suggested, raising her eyebrows in anticipation of John’s agreement.

“Let’s make it Tuesday then. How’s that with your colleague?”

Jackie was relieved. She hadn’t discussed Tuesday with her colleague but she felt sure she could make it happen. “I’ll need to check back with her, but I think I can make it work. Can I send you a text?”

“That would be fine. I apologise it has to be this way for now, but give me ….”

“John, everything is good. What you are doing is phenomenal.” Jackie didn’t want John to feel obligated for anything, after all, there hadn’t been a declaration of intent, either verbal on non‐verbal from her or from him. “I think about Beatrice nurturing the children all the time and I will do anything I can to help. You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you later when you know if Tuesday is on. Good to see you and hear your voice.”

“Talk then. Bye for now.” Jackie smiled as she rang off. For a moment she was going to send him a kiss, checking herself just in time.

John was trying to remember what he was doing before Jackie called.

“John, I need to ask you a question.” It was Beatrice acting on the instructions Heather and Phil had given her over a week ago. She had been asking Heather and Phil questions in that time but the opportunity to ask John a question hadn’t arisen, until now.

John was surprised, forgetting himself momentarily he turned to Beatrice and asked, “What’s this about? You’re asking ME questions now?”

“Yes I am. I am asking you a question John. Phil and Heather are teaching me the thoughts humans have which they do not expressly communicate.”

“Yes, I remember that conversation. You want to ask me about my thoughts?”, John asked.

“And Jackie’s thoughts”, replied Beatrice.

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John had started to become oblivious to the incremental changes in Beatrice. However, this was the first time he started to believe she was developing human‐ like traits. She was speaking more fluently and increasing her use of inflections. He could pick up the influence of Heather’s South African accent with a touch of Phil’s Australian accent, both diminishing Hamish’s Scottish accent, her favourite for quite some time. Maybe that was due to his constant banter. John deduced Heather must be spending a good deal of time talking with Beatrice. He hadn’t listened to many of Beatrice’s conversations with Heather and Emma since the first day or two. That was over a week ago. ‘Have I been that busy’, he wondered.

“Ask away Beatrice.” John said, distracted by his thoughts of everything he had to finish before heading off to the city.

“What were your thoughts whilst you were speaking with Jackie?” asked Beatrice.

John wanted to give Beatrice an answer but he wasn’t aware of having thoughts. “I can’t remember”, he says.

“I analysed the conversation and from what was said and how it was said, I concluded you had thoughts you didn’t communicate. Jackie also sounded apprehensive. She was concerned about something. I have two possibilities and I require your opinion.” Beatrice didn’t wait for John’s approval. “Jackie was thinking you may not like her or Jackie was thinking she had called at a time you were busy. Can I have your opinion please John?”

John feared Beatrice was becoming a little too good at this. He hoped she would sooner than later, become sufficiently accomplished to no longer seek confirmation. He thought he best play along for now, at least for the greater good. “I hope it was the ‘busy’ option. I think it would have been that one”, he replied.

“Thank you. I need your opinion on what you may have been thinking. I have some options. You do not like Jackie or you did not want to talk to Jackie.” John was about to answer but Beatrice spoke before he could. “I have one more which Phil explained when I questioned his conversation with Rachael. You like Jackie but you don’t want her to know you do. Which option best describes your thinking during the conversation with Jackie?”

John was taken aback by the progress in Beatrice. She was becoming more intuitive than most humans. ‘Did I really come across as bad as that’ he asked himself. He 452

Chapter 21 Josh made a mental note to give people full attention when in conversation. “I think your last option, the one Phil told you. To do with Rachael..., that one.” John liked hearing about Phil and Rachael.

“Thank you, John.”

“Was it that obvious?”, he asked Beatrice, hoping she would give him some comfort, that it wasn’t.

“John, based on what I have learnt from Phil and Heather and watching Carey Grant, it appears Jackie and you like each other very much. Jackie is thinking this and trying to tell you without saying it directly. You are thinking it and trying to tell yourself you don’t like her as much as you actually do, which is why you sounded distracted. You possibly exaggerated the being busy thing. Jackie picked up on your exaggeration and interpreted it correctly. She found it endearing. Phil also taught me about denial. It appears you are in denial about your feelings towards Jackie. I don’t feel so I cannot be sure…”

“Ok Beatrice. I think you have practised enough for one day”, John replied a little tersely.

Throughout John’s conversation with Beatrice, Hamish had been moving towards John, taking advantage of his blindside and avoiding the downlights by keeping to the shadows. He suddenly appeared ten feet away from John. “Gov’, Beatrice is spot on. I t’ink you might have fallen for wee Jackie. She’s lovely Gov’ and it would be grand if you told her how you feel.”

John glared at Hamish until he sensed his own embarrassment. He turned away to hide, wondering why he felt so embarrassed. Was it such new ground for him that he didn’t know how to react? Hamish covered those ten feet in a couple of seconds, put an arm around Johns shoulders. “It’s good Gov’. We’re happy for you. Enjoy it while you can. Take wee Vinnie over t’ere, I have ta find him a new bonnie lass every ot’er weekend.”

“That’s not entirely true”, came Vinnie’s reply, feigning hurt.

“Alright you two. I appreciate the support. Thank you both and I’ll take it onboard. I need to go and feed Patsy.” John headed for the door.

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As he opened the door Hamish called out to him, “Gov’ tis only half three, aye. Patsy, she a not bein’ hungry yet.”

Beatrice navigated John’s Citroen into his reserved parking place in the basement of the fifty‐storey skyscraper on Lexington Avenue. Walking to the lift he noticed the fresh coat of paint and tried to remember when he last visited, it had been some months, possibly the longest period without a visit since he withdrew when his mother had passed away. He arrived at the thirty first floor but it was different to what he remembered. Josh had given the offices a facelift. The receptionist was unfamiliar as well. “Had he forgotten her already?”, he asked himself. She behaved as if knowing him. Warmly welcoming him back. There was a short entrance hall adorned with portraits of the board members, as well as past and present leaders. He thought the photo of himself was a bit old but was happy to see he had no more hair back then than he had today. He remembered when he accompanied his mother that first day in November 1996. The visit had coincided with the end of a three‐week renovation of the whole floor in preparation for moving in. They had outgrown the small offices back in his father’s neighbourhood and had looked towards Manhattan. He remembered thinking they were leasing far more area than required. His mother had been adamant it would eventually fill as the business expanded beyond the Lower East Side. It had filled before the end of the first year.

Heading towards Josh’s office he read unfamiliar names on doors. He passed people whose faces he didn’t recognise, acknowledging their polite smiles and generous greetings. Before reaching the far corner of the floor he was intercepted by Kirsty, full of cheer and smiling as usual. She had worked closely with Josh for the best part of twelve years and still exuded the boundless energy which brought her to John’s attention all those years ago.

“Good morning Mister Groot.”

“Morning Kirsty. Is the old fellow in?”, came John’s reply.

“He is, but he has someone with him for the next…”, looking over her shoulder at the large clock with extra bold numerals, “fifteen minutes.”

“I see”, John said, wondering what he should do for the next fifteen minutes.

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“I could let him know you’re here and he might finish up a little quicker”, Kirsty suggested.

“No, its fine. How’s the coffee these days? I’ll grab one whilst I wait.”

“Let me do that for you”, Kirsty offered without waiting for John to reply. He followed her to the lunch room “There are some people here I could introduce you to,” she said over her shoulder.

“I think I will just sit quietly for a while”, John replied, not really wanting to slip into his ‘owner‐of‐the‐company’ persona.

“Josh would like you to meet two members in particular. He said if you arrived early, I was to introduce you to Frank Linde and Susan Ritchey. Recent additions since you were last here.”

“I think they aren’t the only newcomers”, John said looking around.

“Yes, there has been a few more, but they are the only people Josh stipulated I must introduce to you”, Kirsty persisted, demonstrating the loyalty to Josh which had kept her at his side for so long.

“I give in. I will sit in the kitchen and have my coffee. If anyone happens to come in, I will have a chat with them. How does that sound?” John imparted a little wink and a mischievous grin.

“That will be fine and dandy. You go make your coffee and I will see who else happens to need a coffee as well”, she said, playing along.

For the next twenty minutes John sat at the lunch table with Frank, Susan and three others, two of whom he had met on a previous visit. He learnt about the developments in progress along the east river foreshore in his father’s favoured area of the Lower East Side. He remembered his father espousing how one day he would make his fortune when the rundown neighbourhood finally took off. How right he was, but how unfortunate he wasn’t able to see his dream come to fruition. John’s company had built the eighty‐storey residential tower near the Manhattan Bridge. With eight hundred apartments it was close to eighty percent sold. He had just been told the profit would be in excess of five hundred million dollars. Only Douglas, one of those John had met before, was aware of John’s lack of interest in

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Chapter 21 Josh profit figures. On hearing the projected profit announced with enthusiasm for John’s benefit, he watched the confused and deflated reactions of his colleagues. They were all watching John, probably expecting him to salivate or do a hornpipe jig at the thought of a large chunk of that profit making its way into his personal bank account. There was no reaction at all from John. He did not deny himself a reaction, it was just that figures, particularly profit figures meant absolutely nothing to him. He could, in an hour’s time, be asked how much profit is projected from that development and he would genuinely be unable to answer. The only information he pays attention to and remembers is his monthly verbal report from Marty, his auditor. If the month was in profit and he found no untoward transactions or transfers, Marty would say, ‘everything is in order’. That was it, that was John’s total monitoring of his company.

John had known about the tower near the Manhattan Bridge from the time of its inception. It was to be the largest development in both cost and floor area, that the company had embarked upon in its short history. Privately he had shared the anger and frustration with the community as they railed against it. There were still many buildings in the area with housing association dwellings and from his house in the woods he had followed the progress of the community’s attitude with mixed feelings. He liked the character of the neighbourhood with its many old buildings. He considered the area of historic significance, with an old‐world charm and timeless beauty. It carried his grandfather’s and father’s memories. Memories passed down to him by his mother. However, he never wanted to be involved in his company on a day to day basis, preferring the secluded life he believed he was always destined to live. He had complied, without question, with the directions and decisions of his board and trusted senior people, like Josh and the other three managers who had preceded him. For John, the only important aspect of the company was the people. He would visit the head office to talk with shortlisted candidates, sometimes vetoing a popular choice. Although, judging by the new faces sitting opposite. that seemed to have changed of late. But he was bothered. He was with his mother when she met with Josh and approved his engagement later that day. Josh had been the second choice by the company’s selection team, but John’s mother saw something in him which was absent from the popular choice candidate.

John had just started his second cup when Josh entered the room. He was a small wiry man, an amateur triathlete. Standing, shaking hands, he looked up at John

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Chapter 21 Josh through his rimless glasses. “Hi John, long time between visits, but it is really good to see you. My office?”

“Sure.” John thanked the other people in the room for their company, wished them well in whatever projects they were involved in and attempted to keep up with his CEO. Josh spoke for some fifteen minutes about current projects, the sales for the 800‐apartment tower and moved onto new team members. John was happy to listen to Josh as he spoke quickly and concisely. He couldn’t remember Josh speaking so quickly. John assumed it was in deference to his own ambivalence. He tried to recall Josh speaking at board meetings but only remembered dreaming of home whilst others spoke. Apart from cell chats, conversations were generally for a few minutes at a time in Josh’s office, just before or after the meetings. John was not hearing Josh this time either. He was focused on forming up a list in his mind of what he could say and could not say to Josh. It was all starting to blur into one. When Josh came to the end he asked, “You mentioned during our last call, the issues were at your end, so how can I help?”.

John managed to hear his cue. “I have a computer server issue.”, John went silent, giving Josh time to think about that whilst he continued to decide how much information to share. Should he share everything, after all, it will all be public knowledge within the next twelve months, maybe less. “I have outgrown my server in the barn. I need to relocate to a purpose‐built server room.”

“Ok…”, Josh said tentatively, trying to think what this meant in terms of John’s somewhat private work. He couldn’t grasp why John wasn’t willing to talk to him about this the day before, it hardly needed a face to face meeting. “John, with all due respect to you and the software development you do…, could we not have worked something out yesterday. What I mean is, if I knew yesterday what you were looking for, I could have a list of options on my desk, ready for you today.”

John had been absorbed by his reluctance to move Beatrice out of the barn and hadn’t grasped how his issue was relatively minor when seen through Josh’s eyes. He realised that once again he was going about things the wrong way. “I understand what you are saying, It’s absolutely fine. There is more to this, but I am going to consider you first and foremost. It’s one of those occasions where the less you know the better it is for you. If someone were to ask you about it later…, say, for the benefit of the discussion only…., a big man posing as a politician for instance, you could honestly deny any knowledge.” 457

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“Plausible deniability”, chipped in Josh. But his curiosity soared. It was starting to peak into the red. John had never spoken like this before.

“Exactly”, John agreed, hoping that was enough explanation and he could move onto outlining what he needed.

“John, have you involved yourself in something you shouldn’t?”, Josh was genuinely concerned.

“Trust me, I have done nothing illegal, will do nothing illegal. But the software I have developed is of interest to other parties.”

“What other parties? Is someone trying to…”

“Nothing like that. I can tell you this, the program we have developed can have many uses. Once it is known about…” He could feel himself caving in. “There will be people, governments, possibly criminally‐minded people…, ok…, let me rephrase that…, definitely criminally‐minded people who would really like to do with it what criminally‐minded people like to do.” John was really struggling with telling Josh but not telling him. He was way out of his depth when it came to beating around the bush.

Josh was doing his utmost to remain calm. He liked John, appreciating how he had encouraged and supported him to be in the office in which he now sat. But John was a recluse from the woods upstate, contributing little to the company. He only occasionally over the years, concerned himself with personnel and never with the business side. He knew John had stepped out a year or so ago, speaking about artificial intelligence on a panel or two, but had thought little of it at the time. Maybe that has something to do with it, Josh thought. “You’re not really making sense, John. Who will want this program you have come up with?”, he asked.

“Alright, I will tell you more. Sufficient for you to help me out. Look, I know I don’t need to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway. Just think of me saying it as if it wasn’t you sitting there, if you know what I mean. Whatever, I tell you, you cannot tell anyone else, no one, not Frank, Susan and not Kirsty, not your wife, not anyone. You have to promise me that.”

Josh was scrutinising John closely. ‘Was he suffering from too much seclusion?’ he wondered. Josh could feel his adrenaline starting to flow. What was John hiding. He

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Chapter 21 Josh felt the urge to stop John from revealing anything out of fear of becoming involved. His curiosity answered for him. “Alright, I promise. I won’t tell anyone.” Josh involuntarily placed his hand over his heart in a fashion not dissimilar to his scouting days. “I give you my word”, he added.

“Good, I’ll keep going then. You may see me as a person who got lucky because of his dad. You may also see me as the rich guy who lives alone and plays with computer.”

Josh was about to protest against any insinuation he thought of John that way, but John waved him into silence and continued.

“You, like those before you, probably see me as never amounting to much.”

Josh tried again to interrupt, but John ignored him.

“It’s no big deal if you were to think any of those things. It’s not as though I’ve done much for people to think otherwise. As I said, it’s really no big deal. But just this once I am going to ask you to think of me as an inventor…, of sorts. One who has a proven invention, a highly sort after invention, one that cannot be bought and sold because its value to mankind is far greater than anything else on this planet. Just think of it that way and you can imagine there could be a few people, maybe a government or two…, who would want this invention.” John was hoping he wasn’t creating more curiosity than he was trying to satisfy.

“I can do that”. Josh’s curiosity was still high, but his adrenaline had settled. He was reverting to his earlier thought that John may have been stuck in the woods for a bit too long. “Are you going to tell me what this invention is?”, he said, trying not to sound patronising.

“Like I said, it’s a program…, a very good program that should only be used for very good things”, John replied. He felt he was going nowhere. ‘Damn it’, he thought. He picked his cell up from the arm of his chair and placed it on the desk in front of Josh. Although John was reluctant to involve Josh, he had gone too far. He reasoned he had to let Josh all the way in.

Josh was a good guy, from a good family back in Canton, Ohio. His parents had worked hard raising two boys and a girl whilst building the family motorcycle business his grandfather had worked in with his brother. They had started working

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Chapter 21 Josh in the business from fresh out of school until they bought a share in the 1970s. Buying the remaining shares a decade later. Josh had excelled at his education and decided his brother and sister should carry on the business since he was better suited than them to making his mark elsewhere.

John admonished himself for ending up in front of Josh. He was about to place a burden on him he didn’t deserve. With five children to his childhood sweetheart, he adored each as much as the other. He always said he wanted to eventually return home to be with his family and his wife with hers. John hoped he wasn’t about to do the wrong thing and destroy Josh’s dreams.

Josh looked down at the blank screen, looked up at John standing tall in front of him on the other side of his desk and for a moment, a fleeting second, he thought John had definitely lost it.

“Beatrice”, John said whilst Josh’s eyes were fixed on John’s mouth, watching his lips move as he said her name.

“Hello Josh, I am very happy to be meeting you.” Beatrice, still in her favourite green dress spoke clearly, in her cheeriest of voices.

Josh wasn’t too sure who it was greeting him on John’s cell. He looked down at Beatrice, “Hello…, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Beatrice. I am John’s personal assistant and friend. You appear to be a little anxious. May I suggest you pour yourself, and John, a drink before we continue talking.”

“Sure. John, what would…”, Josh was only slightly unnerved, but chose to comply. He had to see this through, at least to find out if John was still fit and healthy. Normally he wasn’t easily rattled, but John had bamboozled him with talks of inventions and criminals. Now John had a personal assistant he didn’t know about. ‘Where did she come from?’, he asked himself. This was becoming weird. Maybe he would have that drink.

“It’s good, I’ll grab you a drink”, John said moving to the drinks cabinet to pour two bourbons. Beatrice watched, waiting until Josh consumed his drink and John had refilled his glass.

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“Josh”, Beatrice began, “What John has been attempting to tell you is he has created an artificial intelligence and would like you to help him find a secure place for his creation to live.”

The bourbon was working and Josh was regaining his composure. “Right. You work with John and your name is Beatrice. That’s clear now. John has an artificial intelligence and you want a server room safer than your barn to house this artificial intelligence. Makes sense. What can this artificial intelligence do that makes it special? Can you show me anything, show me what it does, why the big deal?” Josh asked.

Beatrice was enjoying this game. John had told her he didn’t know if he was going to introduce her to Josh, but if he did, she was to let Josh think she was a human. “We can show you the AI, but you need to promise me you will never tell anyone. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Yes, I promise, I promised John earlier”, Josh replied, feeling a little bit frustrated at having to repeat himself.

“That’s good. Now you want to know what the AI is and what it can do, is that correct?”, Beatrice asked, keeping up the subterfuge as John had requested.

“Yes, could you show me or at least explain?” Josh said, looking up at John.

“The AI will be taking care of the children, nurturing them and helping them grow into better adults”, explained Beatrice.

Josh was confused. “Can you tell me how an AI can do that?”, he said with disbelief in his voice. He again looked at John. “Is this some sort of joke?”

Beatrice ignored Josh’s question and continued. “I’m very sorry Josh. I know this is confusing for you, but the AI will talk to the children, being with them at all times, seeing and hearing what they see and hear, then helping them to survive the adult world they have so much difficulty understanding.”

Josh listened to Beatrice and spent a minute or so considering what she had just said. He looked at John who had returned to his chair. “Have you invented an AI that can talk to people?”

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“Yes, I have”, John replied. He couldn’t completely hold back a rare self‐satisfied smile. It quickly vanished. He knew he hadn’t made it easy for Josh and now it was time to bring him close, make him feel comfortable, maybe let him feel he was back in control.

The alcohol was working. John stood up and poured another drink for Josh and one for himself. He raised his glass to Josh and said “Here’s to the world’s first AI that can talk to people.” Josh obliged and raised his glass, clinking it with John’s. He didn’t verbally echo his toast, though. He emptied his glass and swallowed, feeling the warmth of the bourbon in his throat and as it travelled down towards his stomach.

Josh looked down at Beatrice. “If you are John’s personal assistant, why are you there and not here with him?”

“I am the AI”, replied Beatrice.

Ten minutes had passed since Beatrice informed Josh she was the AI. When she told him, he had nearly fainted. His legs had turned to jelly and he had slid to the floor under his desk. John had helped him to the sofa and settled him with a glass of water.

“Why did you do that to me?”, Josh asked, recovering.

“It was not my intention. I didn’t want to tell you about Beatrice but there came a point where I had dug the hole too deep. Unfortunately, the only way out was to introduce you to Beatrice. If I had showed you Beatrice and told you she was AI, I doubt you would have believed me. I’m really sorry. I could never have predicted you would react this way. I guess I’m just not very good at these things.” John was doing his best to explain but felt he was failing at that as well.

“How do I know that you are telling me the truth? Is that…thing…that Beatrice, really an AI? It might just be a woman at your barn or in another office down the hall.” Josh was embarrassed and angry with John for doing what he did.

“I’m sorry, Josh. Can you help me find a new home for her?”, John asked sincerely.

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Josh may have thought John was a bit strange, living the way he did and all, but one thing he knew about John was his heart, it was big. But he hid it well. John would never plan to do what he just did. Josh knew John was naïve about business, meetings and negotiations. For the first ten years, starting with his internship through his first two promotions and his first vice‐presidency it was all John’s mother, and in Josh’s mind she was only surpassed by his own mum in possessing toughness along with an incorruptible kindness. A balance only an incredible mother could have. John’s mother was one of the straightest ladies he had ever met in business. John wasn’t tough like his mother but he sure as hell was just as kind. No, he would never have intended to do that to him.

Josh raised himself to his feet and returned to his desk, stopping in front of John, extending his hand to John. “Apology accepted. Can you show me Beatrice again?”

Beatrice reappeared on John’s cell. “Hello, Josh. I do hope you are feeling well again. Would you like me to prove I am an AI and not a human?”

“I would. How are you going to do that?”, Josh challenged.

Beatrice instructed Josh to turn his computer on. She then appeared on his screen and John’s cell simultaneously. She asked him to hold John’s cell next to his computer screen. Beatrice then started making different movements with her hands on both screens. She spoke at the same time as making movements, saying a phrase on the cell followed by the next phrase on the computer screen. She then did something daring, something she hadn’t tried before. She changed her clothes. First, she was dressed in Hindu ceremonial costume performing the Kathak dance to traditional music. Each version of Beatrice performed variations in perfect unison, singing in the northern Indian dialect. Beatrice then defied a centuries old tradition, performing a Morris dance as a woman, in fact, as two women. Josh was mesmerised by the fluidity of her movements and the charm of her voice. He was quite knowledgeable with computers, having written small programs in Basic and C++, so he was quickly convinced, particularly when she responded to a question by instantaneously changing to the New York Knicks cheerleader’s costume and answering a phrase at a time. It was similar to that which she had demonstrated earlier on both screens, except this time it was spelt out like the cheerleaders do. When she finished and returned to her green dress, he switched his gaze from Beatrice to John. “You’ve done it, by God, you really have done it”, he said as it started to sink in. 463

Chapter 21 Josh

“Yes, we have”, John replied.

“How long have you been keeping this secret from the world?”, asked Josh.

“The first time Beatrice was something similar to who she is now was about a year ago. But I did start her a decade ago. No pictures then, but similar in the way she could communicate. But you can understand how mankind is not ready for Beatrice, at least not in a form where she does mind blowing stuff way beyond what you just watched, way beyond what a human can do?”, said John.

“If my reaction is anything to go by, it would be unimaginable how the world would react if Beatrice was unleashed upon them”, agreed Josh.

“Which is why we need to do it with the children, slowly. They will be the most receptive and they will benefit the most as well. Help me find somewhere to set up a new server?”, pleaded John

“Of course. I have some ideas already.” Josh started mentally going through his lists of properties and clients.

“Great. One more thing before I forget, can you have your brother send me another couple of those quad bikes, make it three…, and I reckon I’ll need a few more of those fancy snowmobiles with winter coming on.

John refilled both their glasses, Josh toasted Beatrice and they returned to the friendship they had built over the past twenty‐two years.

“You got to tell me more about Beatrice and the children…. Before that, I saw your documentary, and it was ….”

“How did you know about that?”

“My son, he’s big on computers…, That was pretty gloomy stuff. Do you think that could really happen?”

“It’s possible, if the Ai was in the wrong hands. Why don’t we sit down and let Beatrice tell the story?”

Josh and John sat together in front of the monitor and watched Beatrice unfold the story of her life.

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It was Sunday morning and the traffic leaving the City was lighter than John last remembered. The past few days were definitely some of his best since Phil had departed for South Africa. It could have all gone so very wrong on Friday morning with Josh, but an interesting display of traditional dancing by Beatrice had swung the pendulum away from disaster. John thought Beatrice was becoming her own best asset. She was developing character, maybe even a personality.

Beatrice had told her story starting with Phil’s visit but regressing every now and then to give her own back story of her development. She had added humour in the appropriate places. Josh had laughed, a sure sign of her progress. Beatrice’s delivery had been enthralling. They had both been mesmerised and amazed and Her documentary was on a par with the best John had watched on Netflix. It was an immense improvement on his own home movie he had shown everyone in the barn. Josh’s appetite had become ravenous whilst watching Beatrice telling John about each Japanese dish in the private room in Atlanta. He ignored his hunger to laugh at Kirby and John’s ramblings during their night of inebriation, forgetting it entirely when Michael appeared talking to his mother’s last message. Josh became engrossed in the highlights of their day in the barn when Phil exposed everyone to his dismantling of humanity. Heather’s unrestrained as she watched Beatrice and Emma talking took Josh to the brink of tears. Sitting comfortable watching Beatrice negotiate the traffic, he wondered if Kirby could produce such a documentary. He had suggested it and the end of the documentary shoot.

It was a nice touch when Beatrice ended with credits overlaying her dancing scenes for Josh. John remembers wondering how much influence throughout her storytelling came from Hamish.

Lunch had followed, but it had been a rushed affair. Being a triathlete, Josh carried very little body fat and when it was time to refuel, his body didn’t hold back with its demands. By the time Beatrice had finished, it was a good hour past Josh’s regimented time for lunch. He had neglected to have Kirsty reserve a table and Friday’s lunch was the busiest. Kirsty had suggested ramen upstairs on 52nd. Josh was familiar with the restaurant and agreed with Kirsty’s suggestion. John had thought Beatrice would approve as well. It was after Josh had devoured his ramen that he had regained his ability to once again think beyond sustenance. He had informed John of his idea. One of the company’s clients, a web developer with a 465

Chapter 22 Boston substantial server hosting business was relocating their servers to purpose‐built premises near Pomona and their offices elsewhere. They were only a week away from vacating and it was on Lexington as well. Just before 91st. Josh had been to the site a number of times over the years and believed it would be ideal. An eight hundred square foot basement in a five‐storey 1910 brick residential building with proven security and all the services still in place. He had convinced John he could be up and running within days of moving in. ‘Nondescript’, that was the word Josh had used. John was convinced that was what he needed, ‘nondescript’.

John had departed Maria’s house by the water in Larchmont, crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge and was now on the Interstate 87 heading north towards Albany. It had been good to catch up with Maria and her boys. She found it daunting to go into most of the many rooms in her big house. Rooms where her sons had played in their early teens, rooms once filled by the sound of people clinking glasses and championing their favourite art or movie or book. Bedrooms where friends would sleep through the day following a night of the finest food, the most fashionable wines or bingeing on the latest designer drug. Rooms where many an illicit love affair played out in secrecy. Maria was suffering loneliness living in that big house which was always meant for a family and a hub for those extended family gatherings.

David and Will had grown into young men since he was last with them. Phil was definitely correct when he had told John his perspectives on people would change when he truly understood who he was. Instead of being confused by Maria’s behaviour, as he had always been, he now understood why she had been driven to pursue notoriety amongst her peers. She had flaunted a wealth beyond her actual means and competed for the most eligible of men. He knew she had felt bad for who she was and who their father had been. Maria just wanted to feel she was good, worthwhile and she had searched for that by attracting the admiration of others. Through her perception of her own popularity, the success of her parties, her art exhibitions and by her ability to win a husband or three, she had tried desperately to generate self‐worth.

John could clearly see the competitive drive in his two nephews. On previous occasions he had been completely oblivious of their competitive natures. They were incredibly self‐centred, but he loved them all the same. Once or twice during the weekend he had felt compelled to point out their selfishness, but he had restrained

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Chapter 22 Boston the urge, knowing they would not be able to understand. It would only damage the tenuous relationship. Thinking about these things as he headed home made him aware how cruel hindsight could sometimes be, probably cruel most of the time. Being with David and Will had emphasised to John how quickly childhood passed and he regretted not being part of their lives during those fleeting years, particularly when they were teenagers. His nephews could distinctly remember each visit over the past five years, not by seasons or months or hockey games, but by years. He could remember Will saying, ‘I remember when I was 18, you came to…, and then when I was 20…, wait, did I see you when I was 19?’. Hindsight definitely wasn’t his friend at that moment. Putting those thoughts aside, John rejoiced in the fun they had over the past couple of days. He believed the three of them had recovered some of that lost time.

It had been good rekindling their relationship. The ventured out to the Nassau Coliseum to watch is nephew’s revered New York Islanders, followed by a few too many drinks. It had been well worth enduring the crowd, its heaving adrenaline fuelled tribal‐like aggression and the violence of the game itself. They spent time together doing what he could have and should have been doing throughout the previous five years, give or take. John recalled the experience at the game, looking at it as Phil would. Humans releasing their upset as they craved a win, fulfilling their need for power, fame, fortune and glory. On that particular Friday night at the Coliseum only the supporters of the home team had their fame and glory satisfied, the others went home feeling robbed, telling themselves ‘next time, next time will be our turn’. These had been all new experiences for John. Going to a sporting contest was new enough, but doing it whilst in possession of the knowledge about drivers was an incredible experience. It added layers of interest as well as peeling away his fears. He understood everything for maybe the first time in his life.

The Citroen, with Beatrice at the wheel, sped along the Interstate 87, passing through the outer limits of the City. He found it easy to imagine going to the game without the knowledge he now had. He could sense the fear he would have experienced. The masses of people would have become a blur, an impenetrable wall of humanity he was unable to enter. Confused and scared, he would have searched for a way out. If he had survived beyond the first few minutes of the game, he would have watched ten heavily clothed men full of anger flashing around on ice surrounded by a cage. He would have winced and cringed as they hurtled into each other. He would have had little or no idea of what was happening. The sound of the

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Chapter 22 Boston crowd, the music, the announcer would have been unbearable. No way would he have endured a full game. Half an hour, maybe less and he would have been rushing for an exit, seeking the relative quietness of outside. Phil was right, he was always right, knowledge had given him power, the correct type of power. It had enabled him. Now he understood what drove humanity, attracted them, focused them and satiated them. He could finally cope.

John’s thoughts returned to Maria. He sincerely felt for Maria and was happy he had spent yesterday with her, talking openly and feeling her pain. He had always loved his sister. Since the first day she had returned to the City as a teenager, staying connected had begun to elude him. Their father had recognised the path Maria was destined to travel. That was when she had not long turned twenty. The allowances he had assigned her in his estate had reflected that concern. In the years following his father’s death, his mother had assumed responsibility for Maria. Provision had been made for a house and a trust had been established. Boundaries had been set but failed to stop Maria’s life heading away from everything their father would have wished for. He had grown to love his daughter immensely during the six years before he died.

On the cusp of fifty, Maria was living amongst the ruins of her old life. The art galleries and exhibitions had slipped silently into the hands of the next generation. Maria was a relic to them. Many of her peers had vanished to quieter lives beyond the City. No longer did she turn the heads of strapping young men, looking to impress with a trophy on their arm. Her sons spent more time with their father, a successful insurance executive. Maria and John, had spoken at length. It was part reminiscing over her past glories and part searching for some meaning to make her life better. John could see it had been a false life, superficial and without meaning. Driven by a constant search for fulfilment in all the wrong places. John had wanted to tell her about Beatrice and Phil and Jackie but he couldn’t see any benefit in showcasing his life when she was haunted by her own tormented memories.

He was watching the oncoming cars fly past as the sun rose above the tallest of the trees. He thought back to a moment of fear he experienced whilst sitting with Maria in her garden overlooking the still waters of the harbour. When he had been on the verge of telling Maria about Beatrice, a scary scene filled his mind. In that scene Maria, still desperate for the limelight and searching for that last chance of fame

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Chapter 22 Boston and fortune, had stolen Beatrice and was selling her at a private auction in Zurich. Only the world’s most greedy, wealthy and dangerous villains were in attendance.

John knew he was betraying his sister by not telling her about Beatrice, but appeased his guilt by reminding himself that humanity was a far bigger stakeholder. Thinking about it now, he praised himself for pulling back when he did. Beatrice was picking up speed now. The green of trees was becoming an indistinct blur as they rushed by. He smiled at how quiet his Citroen was as it sliced through the cold air at speed. He decided he would find a place for Maria in his new life. When everything settled down. No longer would he just visit her out of a sense of family loyalty and his overwhelming feelings of pity for her. No longer would he feel shame for not having done more when he knew not what he was doing. When Beatrice was ready, he would help Maria find herself, possibly have Beatrice assist her to reconnect with her soul.

For the remainder of the journey back to his house in the woods John relaxed and listened to the old‐timey music of Béla Fleck with Abigail Washburn. He loved how they made their banjos talk to each other. They were followed by Rhiannon Giddens along with some Angus and Julia Stone. The latter was music Phil had introduced him too, a brother and sister from Phil’s home country. Half an hour before he was due to arrive home, John called Phil for a chat. They updated each other on their adventures over the past few days. Phil laughed and laughed at John’s story about Josh. He felt empathy for Josh, but still would have enjoyed being there. With the conversation completed, John took the reins just before the pothole road began. He chatted with Beatrice, thanking her for her performance with Josh and for her words of encouragement during the days with Maria and her boys. Beatrice then read some more of Plato’s ‘Republic’, in particular, the ‘Allegory of the Cave’. It reminded John how difficult it was to show people the truth.

Having missed breakfast and with lunch more than an hour away, John was famished. He threw some eggs and spinach together with some of Adel’s homemade cornbread. His hunger now pacified; the next task was never more than a few feet away. Patsy had been eager for his company. ‘A good excuse to check out progress on the treehouses’, he thought.

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Although it was Sunday, John could hear the sounds of construction drifting through the woods long before the new ridge path came into view. Patsy jumped from her tray and was well ahead by the time he reached the clearing. Six healthy lads were working at the top of the poles, about twenty feet away from his vantage position on the ridge. There had been up to twenty men working the site on Friday. The rest, he thought, must be enjoying a beer or two in front of the wood burner at the lodge near town. John had booked all the rooms for three months. The workers on site were setting the perimeter beams for the first platform. All the poles for the first treehouse were in place and braced. Half the poles for the second treehouse where also embedded into the ground. John thought there hadn’t been the three days of progress he was expecting. A little disappointed, he accepted he wasn’t the builder, questioning if he had become too emotionally involved. He wondered if he was exaggerating his expectations? He noticed the two extra tall poles on adjacent sides of both platforms, ready for the suspension bridge spanning the thirty feet between the two houses. A stand of trees remained between the houses for screening. They would add to the sense of being amongst the tree tops. An addition to the original plans were ramps from the ridge to the rear of the treehouses. They would be sturdy enough for a quad bike. It was his suggestion in preference to stairs. John noticed the poles next to him were ready for one of the ramps to be constructed.

He backtracked along the ridge before heading down the slope to speak with the foreman. He told John he envisaged completion of the first platform within the next five days, ready for the ‘flat pack’ treehouse the following week. The foreman didn’t have the project manager’s schedule on hand but from their discussions two days ago, he believed completion to weather‐tight was possibly another three or four weeks away. John allowed another week, possibly two for the first fixings and connection of services, bringing it in close to the end of November deadline. The second treehouse should only be two or three weeks later. John had been keeping his excitement checked, but when he imagined two treehouses finished before the snow came, his exuberance began to rise. He immediately captured a few minutes of video to send to everyone.

With his tour complete he looked skyward one more time. “They look so small up there’, he thought of the two precariously perched workers. He hoped Heather didn’t mind living up so high. He called out for Patsy as he mounted his quad. Next stop was Thomas and Adel, believing they’d soon be home from the farmer’s market in town.

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Thomas, Adel and their youngest son, Sebastian had arrived home minutes before John reached the first of the farmed fields. Patsy’s father, Smokey had been keeping Javier company throughout the morning. Patsy displayed her usual eagerness to be with Smokey, jumping from the bike and dashing of towards the farmhouse. Shortly afterwards, John found Thomas and Adel unpacking market gear in the kitchen.

“Any progress with security”, enquired John.

“Yes and no. It hasn’t been easy. Finding the right people is important. I have spoken with most of my old buddies and I am waiting for a few of them to decide. Tosh, one of my good mates from way back is keen, but he’s on a job in Yemen, security detail for the first phase of a power plant construction in Dhamar. He said it had been quiet so far and promised he’d discuss a leave of absence with his boss. He doesn’t want to burn bridges by leaving. He says it’s a good company, one of the better ones.”

“When will he let you know?” John asked.

“No idea at this stage. But he’s a good guy, he won’t leave me hanging for too long”, Thomas replied.

John trusted Thomas would sort it out. “If he comes through, that would be one, any others?”

“Here’s the thing. If Tosh comes on board, he will bring others. He has a following. …. Most are spread throughout the industry, doing jobs they would prefer not to be doing or working for one of the many assholes. We just need to be patient and let it happen.” Thomas was doing his best to reassure John everything would work out.

“Good. Can you keep me updated please Thomas? I’m thinking we may need to help Phil out in South Africa. Could you give that some thought as well, when you have a spare moment.”

“Not a problem”, assured Thomas. “I think South Africa may be a bit easier.”

“Why do you say that?”, John asked, a little perplexed. He assumed Ficksburg would be more difficult than Upstate New York.

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“Most of these guys don’t want to be here. They want to be anywhere but stateside. They’re nobodies here. They have to pay taxes, look up to the police and face a public who disagreed with much of the stuff the government did.” Thomas thought for a few seconds about his own situation when his SEAL days finished. “They didn’t feel appreciated when they were marines and feel even less since being discharged. South Africa would be a dream destination, it can be lawless and they like that.”

“It’s not good it happens that way. On the bright side, It all sounds promising for us.” John hoped Thomas would come back to him very soon. “Changing the subject. How’s my pups coming along?”. In an instant, John went from serious to excited.

“Real well. Do you want to see them?”

“I’d love to”, John replied, eager to see his extended family.

Joined by Patsy and Smokey they headed off. On the walk over to see Patsy’s mum and her new litter John recounted his trip to the City. He told Thomas about Josh and his reactions to Beatrice, the basement where Beatrice would move to and the experiences with his nephews at the hockey game. With some sadness, he spoke about Maria and his desire to help her. Thomas understood John’s need to be there for Maria, help her find direction and meaning in her life. He would do the same if he was John, but he knew what Maria was capable of and when it came to divulging Beatrice, he was glad John had erred on the side of caution.

The pups had grown. John cradled each one, talking to them, thinking of names and asking if they would like that name or this name. Thomas watched a little bemused but he had known John long enough to understand his passion for nature, especially his dogs. Returning to the farmhouse, Thomas informed John of the increased workload both he and Adel were experiencing. He appreciated the addition of a cook, but put it to John he would like to pull in an extra pair of hands in the early spring to help with the increasing food production.

John hadn’t thought about that side of things. He trusted Thomas. If Thomas needed more hands then that is exactly what Thomas will have. There was also the issue of the neighbour. They leased a few acres from John’s closest neighbour for growing the biomass willow. “How’s Old Billy these days, have you seen him lately?” he asked.

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“I caught up with him about a week ago. He’s not looking the best. Maybe we should go together and have a cuppa with him”, said Thomas.

“Good idea. Can you arrange that for me? He said a few years back he would give me first refusal on his property when the time came to sell. Maybe that time is fast approaching.” John was hoping it wasn’t approaching too quickly, he liked Old Billy but he knew time catches up to everyone sooner or later. It was good land too, he thought, definitely better farming land than his own.

John and Adel managed a few words in between her many chores following a day at the farmer’s market. He gave her updates on Phil’s exploits, telling her about Heather and how he had watched her instructing Beatrice throughout a session with her granddaughter, Emma. He let her know there could be another mouth to feed in the next week or two if Heather was to make a visit. The new help in the kitchen was proving to be the best so far and Adel had obviously started to form a good working relationship with her, so she was being honest when she told John she didn’t mind having another person to feed.

Thomas and Adel said their goodbyes after loading John’s rear tray with an assortment of food, Patsy jumped onto her front tray and they headed home. He was looking forward to an early night.

John was up bright and early. The boys had returned last night, long after John had retired for the evening. It had been a huge party weekend in Syracuse so when John entered the barn earlier than he normally did, he expected to be all alone. An hour later and the boys still hadn’t stirred. John was frustrated because he had so much to work through before heading over to Jackie’s early the next day. He reassessed if he was being overly eager. After all, when the boys worked, they would stick at it for up to sixteen hours a day. He sat down and quietly chatted with Beatrice, discussing hardware for her new home. After an hour of looking at options he was feeling a bit anxious at still being alone. There were decisions to be made. Patsy was lying on the rug near the sofas so he gave her a call and the two headed out to grab the quad bike.

John thought he would have a quick look at progress before returning to the barn. At least he will have broken his frustration towards the boys by then. It was a

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Chapter 22 Boston particularly cold start to the day, only a degree or two above freezing. He changed his mind. He didn’t feel like a bike ride and there wouldn’t be any progress from yesterday. He thought he might call Phil, but couldn’t think of an excuse for calling. He had only spoken with him the day before. “That wouldn’t bother Phil”, he said to Patsy. “He always had something to talk about.” He put the bike back into the barn, choosing to go for a walk to the lake instead. He thought he would do something he didn’t often do, sit on the dock with his fishing pole. He knew he needed to just slow down a little.

An hour later he returned to the barn with Patsy in tow. The sound of a shower could be heard from the loft above. He sat with Beatrice and reviewed the hardware options he had been working on earlier. Finished, Beatrice disappeared from the screen and Patsy placed her head on John’s thigh. “How about that Patsy? They’re all ready for Vinnie to cast his eye over.”

Minutes later, Vinnie was the first to come down. Patsy headed over to the kitchen to greet him. John could see Vinnie hadn’t had a great deal of sleep, but he was still young and would come good with a bit of breakfast and a coffee or two. Hamish joined Vinnie about ten minutes later and the two sat opposite each other without saying a single word. Neither of the boys had checked if John was at his desk. The kitchen was well lit whilst the rest of the barn was still in relative darkness. John watched silently, imagining he was watching a play. Only this time the actors were not acting and unaware they had an audience. John enjoyed people watching on those rare occasions he was in a place with people. Hamish and Vinnie hadn’t said a word to each other for about ten minutes. “Definitely a new record”, he mumbled quietly. He couldn’t see any signs of untoward feelings. They just sat opposite each other, silent and without so much as a look in each other’s direction. John was curious, but felt it was best to leave them alone. He was sure they were just exhausted and didn’t have the energy for their usual Syracuse debrief combined with teasing.

Breakfast completed, the boys wandered from the kitchen, coffees in hand and were surprised to find John sitting at his computer.

“Good morning, big weekend?” John asked cheerily.

There were muffled responses returned by Hamish and then Vinnie. Having just observed uncharacteristic behaviour from the boys he decided to overlook the

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John disappeared after lunch. He wanted to talk with the project manager at the treehouses. It was still cold but it had warmed up considerably since he had donned his favourite dark blue parka and sat by the water on the dock hoping a fish wouldn’t take his lure. Not a single fish had shown the slightest interest.

Returning from site, he felt an urge to check on the two boys. Something wasn’t right with those two. He didn’t know who, but he suspected Vinnie hadn’t been able to tolerate the silence and Led Zeppelin was making their presence felt in a big way. John liked Led Zeppelin. Finding his favourite armchair, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enter the music. Kashmir had just commenced and he followed the cellos and violins, then Bonham’s drums and their phasing effect. He moved onto JPJ’s base before following Jimmy Page’s guitars weaving the story around the rhythm. It was all brought together and given meaning by Robert Plant’s incredible vocals. He let himself drift along trying to let his anxiety escape into the music. He didn’t know why he felt anxious, or where it was coming from, maybe he was trying to do too much, but whatever the reason he needed to find the peace he had once believed would never leave him. After a while he reminded himself of tomorrow’s appointment. “Jackie will sort me out”, he said aloud with little chance of being heard. “I’ll be fine.”

John had retired early last night in preparation for his predawn start. Jackie had made an eleven thirty appointment, which he wanted to be early for. The quotations he had requested yesterday hadn’t come through, but he expected the suppliers would need a few days to price his unusual installation, particularly for Phil’s cafe in Ficksburg. He had just joined the Interstate 89. Time to brief Beatrice on the day’s events.

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“Beatrice, do you know what we are doing today?”

“Yes, I do John. We arrive at Jackie’s at 10:52 and prepare our presentation for Doctor Samuel Robinson. We will show previous conversations I had with Emma. Jackie will explain how I will nurture and protect children.”

“That pretty much sums it up”, agreed John. “Do you know why Vinnie and Hamish are in the moods they were yesterday?”

“I do”, replied Beatrice.

“Are you going to tell me?” asked John.

“Am I allowed to break confidentiality?” Beatrice asked.

John was both impressed by Beatrice upholding the boy’s privacy. But frustrated at the same time. He would like to make an exception, but…

“No. However, I consider it important I know if there is a problem which may jeopardise your ability to achieve our objectives. If you can outline the nature of the problem, I will help you release only the relevant information. Has Vinnie been confiding in you?”. John thought it best to ask Beatrice questions which would require single word answers to protect the boy’s privacy as much as possible.

“Yes.”

“Has Hamish confided in you as well?”

“Yes.”

John was momentarily stumped. Both boys had confided in Beatrice, making it difficult for Beatrice to break confidentiality.

“Ok Beatrice. I don’t know how to work this out without you letting me know something. What do you think you could tell me which wouldn’t cause either Vinnie or Hamish to distrust you in the future?” John was hoping Beatrice understood what he was looking for and shared something. Anything to give him a clue.

“Hamish and Vinnie started confiding in me at the time you went to Atlanta. Vinnie was first and Hamish a week later. I have been helping Vinnie to understand himself.

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He has found it very difficult to understand much of Phil’s teachings and I have been helping him cope with knowing he was competitive. He has become preoccupied with his tendency to consider himself first and foremost. He blames his father and that has exacerbated his negative feelings towards him.” She paused momentarily. “John, I don’t think I have told you anything you didn’t already know.”

“And Hamish?”, John asked.

“Hamish has confided in me about a number of things which I cannot outline, but he carries much less upset than Vinnie. I also believe you already knew this.” Beatrice was maintaining confidentiality by only sharing information John already knew.

John immediately saw a problem with what Beatrice had been doing without telling him. “Let me get this straight. You have been giving confidential counselling to two guys who share the same home, the same workplace and the same social life. How can you counsel one without divulging information regarding the other?”

“I have come to realise my memory works very different to the human brain. Your memories are often accessed whether you want to or not. This makes objectivity difficult for humans because perspective is influenced by memories you cannot ignore, no matter how much you may want to. I am different to humans. I must choose memories to review. If I do not select a memory, I have no recollection of that memory. When I talk with Vinnie, I do not access memories of the confidential conversations with Hamish. I can review memories of Hamish whilst I talk with Vinnie, but only those I need to allow me to understand Vinnie’s references to Hamish. You may not be aware of this because you programmed me to manage my memories when you introduced neural networks into my program for the purpose of learning”, Beatrice explained.

“I was aware of this. I suppose I see you more human these days and without thinking, I assume you are as we are. Thank you for explaining.” The lesson on AI memory procedure hadn’t taken John any closer to the issue between the boys. “Does Vinnie know you counsel Hamish in the same way as you counsel him?” John asked.

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“Neither Vinnie or Hamish know I talk with both of them. If they do, they have never mentioned it to me. I can only deduce they both believe they have my exclusive counselling.”, replied Beatrice.

“Either that, or they both know how your memory retrieval operated and trust it implicitly.”

“That could be true as well.”

“Either way, it’s very interesting”, mused John. “It appears you are performing well. This means you can nurture brothers, sisters, all the children in the same school class, best friends, all without ever breaking confidentiality either deliberately or inadvertently. It was a concern of mine, mainly because I had forgotten the details of how your memory worked.” John was happy. He had designed Beatrice that way and she was performing well. But having forgotten such an important aspect of her functioning left him a little embarrassed. How fortuitous he rediscovered it now. A potential hurdle Jackie’s colleague may throw up could be confidently diffused.

“Beatrice, please, I am not ordering you, because that is not how we work, but can you put my mind at rest and tell me why Vinnie and Hamish are not seeing eye to eye at the moment? Please?”, John pleaded.

“I can tell you John, as it has nothing to do with privacy of the individual because it involves both of them.” Beatrice prefaced what she was about to say.

“Which is?” John asked, hiding the suspense he was feeling.

“They have both fallen in love with the same girl”, Beatrice said in a matter of fact way, an indication she doesn’t comprehend the depth of feelings involved.

“Is the girl they both love the girlfriend of either Vinnie or Hamish?” John asked. He was intrigued and concerned in a fatherly sort of way, but he was also amused. They aren’t the first to experience this and will not be the last. How they sort it out is what concerned John. It would be devastating if an irreconcilable fallout occurred between them, especially if one were to leave.

“The girl is not a girlfriend to anyone at this time”, Beatrice informed John.

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“Beatrice, you are going to observe competition between humans at close quarters. The winner will win what he believes is love. This is what selfish love is like. I hope it will provide you with some good education.

“It is already, John.”

John thought about the two boys, their different personalities and how little or how much they are affected by their competitive drivers. Hamish less so. He easily understood Phil and for many years before coming to the barn he had been designing a game based on self‐discovery in preference to winning. In contrast, Vinnie had suffered greatly at the hands of a dominating and competitive father. His progress from a selfless infant to a teenager would have been very difficult. Out of necessity he would have pushed his soul out of his conscious mind just to become the son his father expected.

“Beatrice, let me tell you my take on this issue.”

“I would like to hear what you think”, replied Beatrice.

“Hamish is a boy who is confident with girls and enjoys girls being attracted to him. This goes a long way to satisfying his need to win and feel good about himself. However, he has become quite attached to Vinnie, mentoring him and being there for him because he has empathy for Vinnie. Vinnie lives in Hamish’s shadow. Not because Hamish is better at everything, but because he looks up to Hamish to help with his thoughts and feelings that he has so much trouble making sense of. Hamish is closer to his soul than Vinnie is to his. As much as Hamish loves this girl, wanting her for his girlfriend, he is divided between his own desires and Vinnie’s needs. He knows Vinnie has difficulty with girls and his selfless, soulful side would like this girl to choose Vinnie. However, he finds it difficult to stop having his own strong feelings for the girl. Therein lies the problem. Vinnie on the other hand, knows Hamish is more attractive to girls, he loves and respects Hamish, but wishes just this once, he would withdraw from the competition. Vinnie is fearful of how he will feel about Hamish and how crestfallen he will be within himself if the girl chooses Hamish. He probably feels his friendship with Hamish would be unaffected if the girl chooses him over Hamish, which is why he remains hopeful the girl will choose him.”

“That is correct, John”

“How do you know these things so well?”, John asked Beatrice. 479

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“Heather has been teaching me”, came Beatrice’s reply.

John thought Heather was a Godsend. He also thought he must have her join him in the barn, definitely sooner than later.

“All I ask from you is to do your best to nurture the friendship between Vinnie and Hamish. Hopefully the day will come when together, they can look back and learn from all this silliness.”

“I will do that for you and for them”, Beatrice promised.

Beatrice was only one minute out with her prediction of their time of arrival at Jackie’s office. John sat for a few minutes before exiting his Citroen. He felt queasy deep down in his abdomen. Butterflies was too mild a description for his discomfort. He was uneasy about sharing Phil’s idea and Beatrice with a psychiatrist. He cowered at the thought of being mocked by a psychiatrist telling him that when it comes to children, computers are only good for one thing, playing games. These thoughts were leading him to see the whole idea of Beatrice nurturing children as ridiculous. He was asking himself what he was thinking to have gone along with Phil. He was sweating, but he felt cold. He tried to placate his anxiety with pleasant thoughts of seeing Jackie. He had only spoken with her on eight occasions since they had all met up in the barn. He didn’t know if he was anxious or thrilled at finally being in her presence again. He feared she may not like him in that way he was sure she did when they met. The same way he felt when he held her close in the barn. He just wanted to tell Beatrice to take him back home.

“John.” He only just heard the tap, tap, tap on his window.

Beatrice released the door. Jackie could see the sweat rolling from Johns forehead down the sides of his face and into his eyes. Sensing all was not good she reached out and took his hand. He looked up and saw Jackie’s face. Holding her hand firmly, he raised himself gingerly from his car. He felt unsteady on his feet and his knees shook.

“Are you alright?” asked Jackie, seeing clearly that John was distressed. His eyes were glazed and he was unable to answer her. “Let’s get you inside out of this cold.” Jackie was alarmed by John’s lack of colour and his inability to speak. She collected

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John regained more coherency along the corridor to Jackie’s office. She sat him down, placed her shawl around his shoulders, wiped his face and gave him a glass of water. The water definitely helped. “I’m sorry”, he said. “I don’t know what came over me, I just felt ill and then I was cold, but I was sweating.”

“John, you’re much better now. The shaking has stopped and you will be fine.” Jackie was doing her best to make light of John’s slight turn, but her concerns were deeper.

“What do you think happened?” he asked.

“You may have been at the start of a panic attack”, replied Jackie. “I’m thankful it wasn’t anything worse.”

John was sitting in one of the counselling chairs in Jackie’s office. He hadn’t been to her workplace before and was starting to take in his new surroundings.

Jackie had pulled a chair close to John and was sitting holding his hand, watching him closely to ensure he was recovering.

“You relax whilst I go and make you a coffee”, Jackie said reassuringly, gently placing John’s hand back onto his thigh.

It was approaching the time of the meeting with the psychiatrist. John sipped his coffee. He was on his feet, walking around looking at Jackie’s photos, her framed certifications and the many books on the shelves behind her desk. He was fully recovered, talking freely with Jackie and showing no further signs of his earlier scare. He assured Jackie he felt fine and was capable of meeting the psychiatrist and talking about Beatrice, but Jackie wasn’t so sure.

“Maybe you should let me talk with Samuel”, suggested Jackie. “I feel quite sure I know what he would be looking for.”

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John wanted to participate. He had come a long way in not much more than a month and was ready for Beatrice to take her first steps into the world. “I’m feeling fine, really…I’m ok now.”

“John, you know I care for you. I’m concerned you have taken too much on. We met because you were looking for answers to questions. They weren’t questions about children, they were about you. You were just starting to discover who you were. You had spent all your life keeping the rest of the world away. I have nothing against that…many times I have wished my life was like yours. You have chosen to take on Phil’s dream, you’ve made it yours…, and I think that is really good, but you have been working on Beatrice, building treehouses, organising South Africa and from what you have just told me, buying nearly two million dollars’ worth of computers for a huge basement in the City. People take years to grow into being able to do these sorts of things. Its stressful, very stressful and you’re trying to do it without all those years of experience. You’re a wonderful man but life hasn’t hardened you like it does everyone else. Let me speak for you today, please.”

“You are right. I have been feeling anxious the last couple of weeks, maybe longer. Will you help me Jackie?” John wanted to make today work but he knew he had to concede Jackie was correct. He wasn’t ready for all this. He bungled the meeting with Josh, he was at a loss with Maria and the first time his only two employees have a disagreement of sorts he leaves it to Beatrice to prevent the worst from happening. He hadn’t prepared for today and in being honest to himself, he wouldn’t know where to start. He has never had to sell anything in his life.

“Why don’t you go for a drive. I know. My house is only ten minutes away, how about you go there and lie down, have a rest. When I am finished here, I will come straight home”, promised Jackie.

John was happy with the suggestion, he didn’t need the stress of the next few hours, he was a computer man and he was now convinced that is where he should stay. Jackie embraced him, thanking him for agreeing and walked him to his car. John was quickly on his way, his Citroën disappearing around the corner at the bottom of the hill. Jackie let her feelings for John dwell within her for another minute or two before pulling herself free. She had a goal to achieve…, for John, for Phil, for Beatrice and for the children. A tremor passed through her as clarity suddenly appeared. Her awareness of everything felt like a bolt of brilliant light crashing into

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It was late in the afternoon when Jackie pressed the remote for her garage. Samuel and Anna had asked Jackie questions about Beatrice’s commercial potential and whether she had thought of other applications for Beatrice beyond helping children. Jackie had been perturbed by the direction they were heading with their thoughts. Their greed was obvious. She had carefully drawn the presentation to an early close. Anna had been her contact who until yesterday, was coming alone. When Anna informed her of Samuel, she had been tempted to reconsider the meeting.

An hour after Anna and Samuel had departed, Jackie was still sitting alone, pondering their questions. The focus of those questions had clearly been the potential for commercialising Beatrice. She was still mystified as to why Anna had turned up. She had told Jackie yesterday that Samuel was joining her, calling back an hour later to say he would be doing the appraisal on his own. It all changed again when Jackie opened her door to see both their faces smiling back at her. “Why did Anna come?”, she asked aloud.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jackie and Beatrice spent time learning more about each other. Jackie was concerned about John and had asked Beatrice to show her a review of John’s life over the past month. There were discussions with Vinnie and Hamish, Phil and Heather and the decision to establish Beatrice in Ficksburg. Jackie watched the episode with Josh and then John’s conversation with Phil where he had asked him to tell Heather about the senator and his reference to the talk with Phil in the woods. There wasn’t any footage of that conversation. She suspected John had deliberately denied Beatrice her coverage. “Why?”, she said, setting a reminder for herself to query John later. Jackie listened to Beatrice tell her about John’s security concerns and showed conversations between John and Thomas planning personnel to provide protection. There was a great deal Jackie had missed. Although she felt she was prying into John’s life she could clearly see John had taken on complete responsibility for Phil’s idea. He was doing it for everyone else. John was being someone for others without anyone ensuring he was happy. No one was watching over his health and telling him he was loved.

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There weren’t any sounds from the television and with half an hour until sunset on this bleak overcast day, the ground floor was nearly dark. Jackie quietly ascended the stairs and could hear John’s heavy breathing coming from her bedroom. His glasses cast a shadow on his face from the nearby lamp, a book lay open on his chest and a few more books from her library were spread on the bed beside him. Jackie gazed down at John and smiled. She was relieved he was looking much healthier and was restfully asleep. She gently removed his glasses and the books. Then just stood there watching him, thinking how much she liked this man, wondering if she was falling in love with him. She wanted to snuggle up beside him and lay her head on his chest, but thinking better of it, she returned to the kitchen. In front of the open refrigerator she imagined what meal she could make out two tomatoes, a browned avocado half and an old packet of bacon she hadn’t got around to throwing in the trash. “I hope he didn’t look in here”, she whispered.

John slept for another half hour, waking to the smell of onion and garlic. When he entered the kitchen, Jackie was chopping the asparagus, mint and spring onions she had dashed to the supermarket for. It was one of Jamie Oliver’s fifteen‐minute pasta dishes she was in the middle of preparing.

“Hi John, feeling better?”, Jackie asked.

“Much better, thank you”, replied John.

“You look like your old self again. You gave me quite a scare this morning.”

“I know. I think I gave myself a scare as well. I was lucky you were there. I need to thank…”

Jackie cut John off before he went any further, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks. How did it go with Samuel?”, enquired John.

“It went well”, Jackie replied enthusiastically. “Let me finish dinner…, then we can sit and I will tell you all about it. Why don’t you go and freshen up, I put a towel in the bathroom for you and some fresh clothes. They should fit you. My husband was nearly your size.”

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John returned looking way less battle weary than he had earlier. Jackie smiled and commented how well her husband’s clothes fitted. A few minutes later and dinner was served.

“So, tell me how it was?” John asked.

“They were about half an hour late, which gave me time to prepare”, Jackie began.

“They?” John asked as he scooped some pasta into his bowl.

“I didn’t know that Samuel was going to bring Anna.”

“Who is Anna?” asked John.

“Anna is one of my colleagues. She’s the one who was interested initially… The one who was originally going to come. Don’t worry, you probably forgot. It all got mixed up yesterday and you’re right, I was only expecting Samuel.”

John let it pass, mumbling his acknowledgment.

Anna’s not a close friend, but a psychologist I did part of my training with before she specialised in adolescent psychology. Apparently, she works closely with Samuel, referring patients to each other.” Jackie explained whilst topping up their wine.

John nodded, indicating he was satisfied in knowing who was who.

“Where was I? Yes. I spoke with Beatrice before they turned up and suggested to her to keep it low key. I really didn’t know much about Samuel so I didn’t want Beatrice showing just how good she was. I asked her to….”

John interrupted again. “Why didn’t you want Beatrice to show her full capabilities? I thought that was what we needed to do.”

“I really had little knowledge of the type of person Samuel could be. You have kept Beatrice a secret for very good reasons. She may be far superior to any other AI out there, which would make her extremely attractive. If Samuel was to realise that…, well, who knows what he may do. I asked Beatrice to go back to only answering

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“That makes sense. I should’ve thought of that myself”, said John, feeling a little inadequate.

“John, please don’t beat up on yourself about this. We are a team and we stand by each other. I am much more cautious than you, just look at the people I deal with, both clients and peers. There are plenty of people in the mental health industry who are in it for themselves, first and foremost.” Jackie new she had done the right thing because of those questions Samuel and Anna had asked.

John was puzzled. “Are you saying there are people in your profession who would use Beatrice for their own gain?”

Jackie sat upright, eyes wide open and answered emphatically, “Yes, definitely.”

“I see. What about the two today, what do you think about them?”

“Well, they watched Beatrice with Emma and were suitably impressed, even though Beatrice had doctored herself along the way. She’s quite amazing really because I couldn’t tell until she showed me after they had gone. I explained that Heather was prompting Beatrice with the more searching questions and Beatrice’s capabilities were limited to holding a relatively simple conversation, similar to a customer service AI. I explained to them how Beatrice could go some of the way to satisfying the perennial problem of who takes care of the child in between visits. Adults, being older, can be given instructions of how to think and interpret their feelings and what understanding they will need. This all helps them between visits but children are not in the same league. Particularly those children who are without parents, live with a working father or live in foster homes which aren’t always satisfactory. Also, some children live in abusive situations unbeknownst to us or the authorities. I kept it simple. I made no mention of any of Phil’s conversations and definitely didn’t introduce the concept of adults invading the child’s world. I wouldn’t have wanted to explain the whole ‘giving up’ on their soul during adolescence thing.”

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Chapter 22 Boston was going to be ignored, obliterated. “Was there any point in pursuing this anymore?”, he almost asked aloud. Jackie could see the disappointment in John. He had slumped in his chair and had gone silent.

John. Listen to me. It is nothing but a means to an end. Do you really think an extremely competitive psychiatrist is going to listen to me tell them all that we know is true, then turn to me and say, ‘Geeze, I never knew that, wow, we had better change the way we treat our patients’? Think about it, what would you expect him to say?”

“He’d probably laugh at you and walk out”, replied John with a wry smile. He was starting to see Jackie’s point.

“Exactly. And my career would walk out with him”, Jackie said softly, knowing she didn’t need to stress that last statement.

Jackie gave John some time to assimilate all she had told him. Returning to the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine as he processed it.

Sitting down she saw John was about to say something but stopped himself before he started. She was feeling for John. He was so naïve yet so beautifully honest. What was she to do? It was his project and he was so committed to it, yet the deeper he ventured the more he suffered because he had next to no experience of the real world. He should have a corporation behind him, with lawyers, security experts, strategists, business developers and high‐level negotiators. The reality was, he had himself and Phil, who was in South Africa, two boys who were working way more than they should and Thomas who hadn’t played soldier for more than a decade.

“John?” Jackie called.

“Yeah”, came the muffled reply.

“It is not overly important, but there was another reason I asked Beatrice to hide most of herself.”

“What was that?” John asked without much interest, idly shifting pasta from one side of his dish to the other.

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“Every worker or profession in this country has been or will be under increasing competition from computers. Jobs keep disappearing, taken over by computers. If Beatrice showed her true capabilities, which I discovered are rather ‘awesome’, as Hamish would say, then Samuel and Anna would report back that back to their colleagues. In next to no time, a contagion of fear that an AI was ready to do their jobs would rip through the industry.”

John didn’t want to hear Jackie’s other reason. He wasn’t in a good frame of mind to come up with answers. He needed to be at his house in the woods, take Patsy for a walk, listen to the wind in the trees and sit in his favourite spot to think it all through. For now, he thought he would let Jackie think for the two of them. “What do you suggest?”

Jackie didn’t have an answer either. “We don’t try and solve it now. Let’s see what Samuel and Anna say before we get too far ahead of ourselves. No damage has been done today…, well, I sincerely hope there hasn’t been. Let’s just give ourselves some time. We need to talk with Phil, maybe include Heather and definitely pull Hamish in a bit more. I like Hamish, I think he has more to offer and I think he would really appreciate the opportunity.

“I agree”, said John feeling some relief at least. He looked at Jackie and noticed for the first time all day, just how much her green eyes were sparkling. He could see she wasn’t disparaged in any way by the day’s events. He had been self‐absorbed and he knew it. He was unable to take his eyes off Jackie, she was many things he wasn’t at that moment, positive, optimistic and defiant against the odds, just for starters. But most of all, John thought, she was extraordinarily beautiful.

John awoke to Karson and Kennedy from Mix 104.1 FM on the alarm clock,

“…we’re just going to be out there most of the day. It is our fourth annual Cool Kid’s Day at Canobie Lake Park and what we’re doing is taking a bunch of cool kids, just letting them hang out and we’re picking up the bill. Bring their family and just get a day of fun ‘cos you know, a lot of these kids, there’s things going on their lives which may preclude them from getting out and enjoying a day or maybe the financial burdens of what’s going on with their

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house or whatever. So, this is what we do with cool kids, we’ve given them all sorts of experiences, but we keep going back to Canobie Lake Park because they’re so wonderful….”

Jackie had taken a little longer to awaken, hitting the snooze button before snuggling up close to John. Minutes later, with reality setting in, Jackie was showering and preparing herself for a full day of appointments. Wednesday’s was always her biggest day with her last client at eight or even nine in the evening. Karson and Kennedy had done their job and John was sitting up waiting for Jackie to return from the shower.

“Jackie, can you come over here please.” He placed his cell on the bed‐side table and gently patted the bed beside himself, “sit with me for a minute, there’s something I need to say.”

Jackie was curious, but hoped John didn’t have too much to say or she would be late for her first appointment. During the evening they had enjoyed the company of each other immensely. There were periods of good conversation and John had opened up about concerns with doing all that he had to do to make their project work. He held nothing back, including his genuine concerns Beatrice could become a danger to mankind and his reliance upon Phil to make the decision to continue the journey they had started. Jackie guessed this was the walk‐in‐the‐wood’s discussion John had referred to. ‘Was there more he had to tell her, perhaps something he had forgotten last night?’, she wondered.

“I want you to promise me something”, John began. “there is nothing to worry about at the moment”, he said reassuringly. “This is purely hypothetical but a very important hypothetical. Particularly after my little show yesterday.”

“Go on”, said Jackie, trusting John when he said there was nothing to worry about.

“If anything was to happen to me, and for any reason I couldn’t carry on doing this, I want you to promise me, you will carry it on. Will you do that for me? Do it for Phil and for the children?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, don’t be silly”, Jackie replied kindly.

“I hope you’re right, but I need to have succession in place. I believe you could do it. Will you promise me, please?” pleaded John.

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Jackie reached out and took the hand John was using to emphasise ‘importance’ with. She held it to her cheek, pressing her face firmly into his hand, “I promise”, she said.

“Thank you. Beatrice has that recorded. …. Could you please go now Beatrice?”, requested John. Jackie turned to see John’s cell on the table beside her bed and returned her eyes to his. Before Jackie could say anything, John presented his justification. “Jackie, there are only a few people involved at the moment but I believe this project will pull more in before it really happens. Add to that, there’s Maria whose demands you should fear if I was incapacitated or worse. Then there would be the company board, possibly believing they should have property rights over Beatrice. Over the next few days I will spend time with my lawyer. I will be doing the best I can to preserve what we have started, keep Beatrice from the jackals and provide for those I love.”

“I understand. It means a tremendous amount to me that you believe in me and trust me the way you do. I love you.”

“I love you too”, John whispered gently, taking Jackie’s hand in his.

“Thank you, but I must go. I’ll be late and you really do need a shower.”

“Jackie, before you go there is one more thing”, John called to her as she was leaving the room. Jackie stopped and turned. “My laptop?”

“What about it? It’s on the kitchen bench” Jackie replied.

“Take it, it’s yours. You can talk to Beatrice as much as you want.”

“Thanks again. I’ll see you Friday, must run…, love you.” A short time later John heard the door to the garage close.

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He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to do. Before leaving Ficksburg, Phil collected a bag of ice, filled a plastic bag and placed it on his seat before gingerly pulling himself into the cabin of his seven‐day old Landcruiser. Within a few minutes the edge of the pain started to recede. He had the gravel road with its potholes to negotiate before he could lay flat.

Phil was nearly at the end of the renovations on the internet café when he reached for the vacuum cleaner, twisting his torso to untangle the hose as he did. That was all it took for the nerves in his lumbar to be driven crazy. He knew straight away. A massive jolt, like a bolt of electricity hit his lower back. There would follow at least two days of horizontal agony followed by a further three days of walking bent over until the acute lumbago righted itself. Phil had persevered through recurring lower back problems for the best part of a decade. In that time, he had spent a small fortune on chiropractors, acupuncturists and wet needling by a physician. He had even sought the services of a woman who treated horses and cats with a technique called Emmett. He was desperate at the time, but in hindsight a year later he had found it humorous. The ritual greeting of two cats and the large tumbler of filtered room temperature water. The room adorned with crystals. A heady stench of essential oils. Lying on the table with her fingers painfully digging and stretching he would peer out the window. Two horses were always there, staring back with eyes full of envy.

For the past few weeks in South Africa he had neglected to use his yoga straps. They corrected the placement of his femur heads. It had been over a week since he had done the ‘shakes’ learnt from a myofascial guru. The ‘shakes’ was a proven life saver, assisting Phil to clear his body of the emotional trauma of his childhood. These days, it removed the daily emotional stress of surviving in a world that felt alien to him.

Phil had been told he was a sceptic by many people during his adult life, and he rarely disagreed. He just believed there was so much bullshit in the world. People peddled all variety of bullshit to make a dollar, so he believed he had to be either sceptical or bankrupt. When he first visited the myofascial guru, he had to suppress his scepticism to endure an hour of lying flat, knees up and legs shaking. He was told his psoas muscles were full of ‘old emotional shit’ from his stepmother. He went along with it, thinking it would make a good story one day. That night as he 491

Chapter 23 Innocence was falling asleep, he noticed how much freer his hips and pelvis were. So, he went back, again and again and again, each week for over 12 months. The transformation was hard for Phil to believe. He went from literally wanting that final sleep to come, to never needing a chiropractor or making horses envious. But he had let his maintenance regime slip and now faced five days of doing little or nothing. “I’ll have plenty of time to talk with Beatrice”, he thought as he drove through the open gate. Heather had kindly obliged. Only a few dips and rises remained.

Heather and Jimmy assisted Phil to his bed and Heather made him comfortable. He lay quietly by himself, applying his meditation techniques and relaxing his muscles. Two hours and four ice packs later he opened his laptop and told Beatrice of his woes. During their conversation Beatrice asked Phil a question, triggering one of those journeys he so enjoyed. A search for understanding.

“What is childhood innocence?”, she asked.

Initially Phil was stumped. He repeatedly used ‘innocence’ to describe the state children are in. It was just one of those handed down phrases everyone used. What was ‘innocence’ in the context of children? In a court of law, a person can be innocent of alleged crimes. Meaning simply, they didn’t do them. But what were children accused of that they hadn’t actually done? What were they innocent of, so as to have ‘innocence’?

“That is a very good question”, Phil said whilst thinking through his answer.

“Thank you”, Beatrice replied without even a hint of satisfaction.

Phil gave himself a few minutes of contemplation. “Beatrice, you remember nearly three weeks ago when we…, Heather and me, told you people have thoughts they don’t act on? …. And we said you really needed to become inquisitive as to what they were if you were going to help the children? We told you to ask us what those thoughts were. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I remember and I have been inquisitive many times. I have also asked John, Hamish and Vinnie about their thoughts and have gained valuable insight into human behaviour. Your request has proven beneficial.” Beatrice quickly told Phil of her discoveries.

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“Good.” Phil mentally readjusted what he had planned to say. He had something new. “Can we call the place these thoughts occur, the ‘inner space’? It’s still the conscious mind at work, but I feel ‘inner space’ is more specific to that process of differing thoughts and not all of them acted on. How does that sit with you?”

“Sweet, mate”, replied Beatrice. Phil ignored Beatrice’s attempt at humour, even though it was funny hearing her Australian drawl once again. It had been nearly two months.

“It’s good you have found out for yourself just how poor the correlation between what a person says or does and what they think can be. Remember I spoke about ‘game face’?” Phil asked.

“I reckon I do mate.” Beatrice was persisting with her Australian accent. It was off‐ putting for Phil but he knew Beatrice could be doing an Irish jig and still be giving one hundred percent attention to what he was saying. He would do anything to be able to do an Irish jig at that very moment.

“As I said back then, the ‘game face’ is people doing and saying what is appropriate for the particular situation they are in. It’s their socially aware response to the expectations of their surroundings. If what they say when in ‘game face’ has little relevance to their real and sincere inner space thoughts, then you could say they are being fake.”

Beatrice didn’t look like she was on the same page.

“Let me explain it better if I can. When in ‘game face’ mode, a person will reject thoughts they may act on at another time, when not in ‘game face’. It’s as though they say to themselves, ‘I can’t say that, not here, not now’. They then assess what they can say that would satisfy their own need to feel as sincere as possible whilst satisfying the situation. You know, the other person or people they are with. The more they ignore their sincerest thoughts and behave according to the ‘game face’ expectations, the more fake they are. It’s complex, but how’s that sound?”

Beatrice interrupted. “Yeah mate. They ain’t being ridgey‐didge.”

“You obviously get it then”, Phil said calmly. Beatrice nodded slowly. She was teasing him. “I have spoken before about this. I said back then, when a person is being fake, they truly believe they are being up front and honest. It’s as though they

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Chapter 23 Innocence forget about the sincere and truthful thoughts they dismissed to arrive at where they are.”

“Phil, how can that be? If a person believes what they say, then how can another person judge them to be fake? It’s not as though you humans can jump inside each other’s heads to see the sincere and truthful thoughts you all seem to conveniently dismiss.”

“Intuition”, replied Phil. “Your intuition tells you they are not responding with sincerity to their own thoughts. Intuition also tells you they are saying what is most acceptable. When someone doubts what they are hearing they often ask the question, ‘Are you saying that because you think that’s what I want to hear?’.”

“Yes. That is exactly what Hamish and Vinnie ask each other.”

“There you go. You know what pandering is then. Even if a person says what they think others want to hear, there’s generally a reason. They may add a little bit extra to test the waters. That’s why I called it pandering. Give a bit to get a bit, so to speak. In a way, it’s patronizing with an expectation of something in return.

“Phil, stop. Please. You are not making sense. I understand ‘game face’. I know humans say to each other what they think they want to hear. Now you are saying it can be pandering and it can be patronizing. How am I to tell the difference?”

“Intuition. You study body language, tone of voice, the relationship the two people have…, anything to add to the story. Your intuition will tell if the person is going to use you or care for you. Soften you up for future personal gain or hide the truth to protect your sensitivities. Good intuition removes the ambiguity. Do you get it now?”

“Yes, thank you Phil.”

“Now Beatrice, one more little thing about that. If your intuition tells you they are doing any of this, don’t jump up and down and call them out on it. That’s not how the game works. You do that and the competitive adult will just keep saying to you ‘I never said that. Don’t accuse me of something I never said’.” Phil stopped and raised his eyebrows towards Beatrice to emphasising the futility of such an accusation. “You can only act on what is said, not on what you believe is thought. It’s all manoeuvring and posturing, trying to have the person say what your intuition

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Chapter 23 Innocence tells you they are really thinking. Always remember, you can only address what they say, not what they are thinking.”

“Fair dinkum mate, none of you geezers are true blue cobbers”, replied Beatrice.

“Beatrice, I think you’ve mixed your countries up. ‘Geezer’ belongs to Vinnie.”

“Gee, sorry mate. Made a bit of a galah of myself there.”

“Ok, moving on.” Phil could have been frustrated with Beatrice, but a bit of comic relief hit the spot after explaining all that. Maybe she was starting to pick her moments better, but he wasn’t going to encourage her by telling her as much. “Keep this in mind. Us humans place nearly all the emphasis on what we say and not what we think. We can think whatever we like. No one needs to ever know. We always feel our thoughts are safe inside our own heads. Heard of ‘poker face’?

“Yes, I have Phil. It is the game face for playing poker. It is to ensure one’s opponents are unable to read your emotional state regarding the hand or the true intentions of the bet or raise.”

“There you go. It is hiding one’s thoughts and denying one’s body language from speaking to the opponent’s intuition. People do it all the time, not just when they play poker. Anyway, where was I going with all this?” Phil had lost his train of thought momentarily. “Yeah. People will always try to convince others they are saying the truth when they know they think differently. A variation on that is this. Sometimes we humans are actually in denial of the socially unacceptable thoughts inhabiting our inner space. Those we can’t act on. The thoughts are there but we shut them out of our consciousness. Unfortunately, they tend to make an impression before we shut them out. Once the door is slammed behind those thoughts, we feel confident our behaviour is truthful and honest. This is in fact a particular form of truth, it’s a denial truth. The thoughts we would act on if free to do so have been pushed aside and denied. Are you seeing the picture, Beatrice? Fake, ‘game face’, ‘poker face’ and denial truths.”

“Sure am, cobber”, replied Beatrice. Phil hesitated before asking her to stop the accent. He would be required to tolerate it if she was a genuine Aussie. It was more about his own inability to cope. Beatrice was different to humans. None of her listening was compromised by an ‘inner space’ planning the next Aussie quip. That happened in nanoseconds during the silence gap between listening and speaking. 495

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The time for her to access new data, her memories, construct sentences and create body language all happened in fractions of a second. So fast that John had to teach her the ‘social’ pause before responding, something she didn’t always do.

“Here is your definition of ‘innocence’.” Phil found himself talking loudly and a touch aggressively. She had deceived him into believing he was back home, speaking to another Australian. Beatrice was mimicking an exasperating Australian trait. The use of humour to mask petulance and sometimes, belligerence. Phil believed Australians had an underlying resentment to being told something. Even if what was being said was for their benefit. More often than not, they had to let their dissatisfaction be known. Humour sent the message without contravening social convention. Phil had learnt to tolerate that annoying Australian idiosyncrasy, albeit with questionable success. He wondered if Beatrice was aware, or if it was just sheer coincidence. Either way, with his sore back she was certainly pressing his buttons.

“When a person’s behaviour is always one hundred percent representative of what goes on in their inner space, they are said to have ‘innocence’. I’ll say that in reverse. A person has innocence when they have no other thoughts in their inner space other than those directly contributing to their behaviour.”

Beatrice dropped the accent. “Thank you, Phil. That is a vitally important piece of knowledge. Am I correct in saying a child acts on the thoughts in their inner space without vetting some thoughts as being unacceptable?”

Phil paused while he assessed Beatrice’s alternative way of presenting the definition. “That seems in order, Beatrice. Remember I mentioned how us humans believe only what we say is important?”

“I do.”

“Then it is fair to say, the more we deny the thoughts in our inner space by what we say and do, the less innocent we are. It stands to reason that the less innocent we are, the more fake we are being.”

“I agree with you, Phil. It is simple logic.”

“We apply our Intuition to see through that fake behaviour. When we do, we also bring trust into question. With their intuition or fake detector working, people will

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Chapter 23 Innocence not trust a faker. When trust is absent people resort to other methods to ensure what a person says they will do, they actually do. Extortion and blackmail are usually reserved for criminals and the like. But we use it every day. We don’t call it by those names, we just deem it necessary to make sure people are held accountable for what they promise. You’ll pick up on the use of leverage between people. Hardly anyone notices it anymore, let alone sees what is really happening. People with innocence see this behaviour clearly. I would expect you will eventually see it very clearly.”

“Believe it or not Phil, but I’m a little confused.”

Phil was shocked. Beatrice had never said anything like that before. Was this a selfless human trait developing? He thought he would carry on as if it wasn’t a milestone event. But he would certainly be watching out for it happening again.

“Beatrice, I’ll give you an example. In American courts there is a process could plea bargaining.”

“I know plea bargaining, Phil”

“Good. When the prosecuting attorney offers a lighter sentence or a downgrading of the charge in return for a guilty plea, they are actually extorting the admission of guilt from the person charged. And it is considered legal.”

“Thank you, Phil. A man doesn’t like mowing lawns but he keeps promising his wife he will do it. Is it extortion if she says ‘no more meals cooked until the lawn is mowed’?”

“Definitely. You nailed it, you clever AI you. Now you understand how extortion and blackmail are used when selfishness pushes trust aside. You also picked up on the husband making promises his inner space thoughts had no intentions of honouring. This sort of behaviour happens all the time.”

“Thank you for the compliment Phil. How do you say it, I’m extremely flattered?”, replied Beatrice. “Could you give me some words or phrases to help me recognise when trust and distrust are happening, please Phil?”

“That is all too easy. A school teacher might say to a child causing a disturbance in class, ‘if you don’t stop doing that and start behaving like everyone else, I will have

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Chapter 23 Innocence to inform your parents’ or ‘Do this for me and I’ll forget I ever heard anything about that’. Quite often the extortion threat is not even verbalised, it is inferred by drawing attention to that which a person would prefer no one else finds out. That’s the meaning of the phrase, ‘wink, wink, say no more’. The implication is ‘you owe me’ for my silence. Finesse, sleight of hand and subtlety are how I would describe the highly refined ways people use these tools on each other, nearly always for personal gain. It all grows from distrust. The roots of that distrust are deep within the fake behaviour, the heart of which lies in a lack of innocence.”

“My confusion is going”, Beatrice declared.

“Very good.” Phil was happy. He thought it best to complete his explanation, removing any lingering shortfalls in Beatrice’s knowledge.

“All those inner space thoughts prevent the genuine honesty the world so desperately needs. If people weren’t fake, there would be no need for the classic phrases, ‘Trust me’, ‘I’m being totally honest with you’ and ‘I’m good for my word’.. All of which you’d be familiar with.”

“You humans use them a lot”, agreed Beatrice.

“Yep, too much. You may have heard phrases like these as well, ‘what guarantee do I have you will do such and such’, and ‘promise me on the life of your first born’. …. the last one is a bit melodramatic…, but you see my point. It’s all a bit complicated and messy at times.”

“Phil…, I know what you want to say next.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“it comes from the competitive and selfishly driven inner space thoughts. Those thoughts people cannot act upon, but would like to.”

“Was it that obvious?”, Phil asks.

“I’m afraid so”, replied Beatrice with one of her little squeaky chuckles.

“Yeah, I can be repetitive at times. I’ll try and remember to share any examples I come across. That intuition you’re working on is your way of detecting what people truly think and intuition will enable you to understand them better.” 498

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“You humans are a nightmare”, said Beatrice.

“Is that Hamish or Vinnie talking?”, asked Phil.

“Vinnie. I have concluded he experiences many more nightmares than Hamish

“I just remembered something. Can I share an interplay of fake behaviour and innocence?”, Phil asked.

“I’m not going anywhere”, Beatrice replied, using a phrase she had heard Phil say often.

“Give me a minute or two, it’s in one of my folders. Only found this one the other day. Ah…, there it is. Now, this is a conversation between a young teenage girl and her father’s new partner who has only recently commenced staying over on the weekends. The teenage girl doesn’t like her father’s new partner. She’s old enough to know she must be polite towards her father’s new partner but keeping her dislike a secret isn’t always easy to maintain. Can you visualise the scenario?”, asked John, hoping it wasn’t too much for Beatrice.

“I see it clearly. Can you give me a location where the conversation occurred?”

“Sure, it’s in the bathroom. The father’s partner is in a luxurious bubble bath in an expensive bathroom”, Phil said creating the scene. “Lots of black marble and glitz.”

“I have a picture, thank you”

“Ok, now the teenager has made her point and her father’s new partner says, ‘Hey, you know I have bent over backwards to be nice to you. I fixed up your room, I made you that amazing dinner’.”

“To which the teenager responds, ‘Who screws up macaroni and cheese?’”.

“And then her father’s new partner returns with, ‘That’s not the point. The point is that I make an effort, why don’t you make an effort? What’s your problem?’”.

“Can you see it Beatrice, can you see the fake, the intuition and the confirmation?”

Beatrice didn’t need to do what Phil does in taking a minute or two to think of an answer. She responded immediately. “Yes, I can see it. The father’s new partner

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Chapter 23 Innocence states she is making an effort which means her behaviour has been fake. In her inner space thoughts, she considers the teenage daughter a burden and doesn’t like her. She is obliged to build a friendship because of her relationship with the girl’s father. The teenage daughter still has some childhood innocence. She is unable to prevent her behaviour from showing how she feels.”

“Impressive. I’ll keep going.” Phil waited until Beatrice had resumed her favourite position for listening to his stories. She would sit with elbows on her table and both hands cupping her face. Phil continued. “The teenager answers the question of what her problem was by saying ‘I don’t like you’.”

“Her father’s new partner has an immediate comeback, ‘Come on, what kind of stupid answer is that, everybody likes me…’.”

Beatrice was quick of the mark again. “The teenager proves her innocence by not checking her thoughts, she doesn’t wear a game face. She tells her father’s partner exactly how she feels within her inner space. Her father’s partner is living a denial truth by believing everybody likes her.”

“Correct. I’ll add something. The teenager, speaking innocently is left exposed and vulnerable. She doesn’t realise she has emptied herself of all ammunition. Adults know to use their ammunition sparingly. Firing off a round when the target is in full view. Innocence has no requirement of ammunition at all. They are not competitive. The teenage girl just puts her feelings out there. It’s as if she’s hoping her father’s new partner will see her struggle, have empathy and make it all better.”

“Thank you, Phil. I do not experience empathy, but I could see that was what the child required.”

“That’s what it’s all about. This whole nurture the children objective of yours. You can see just how dangerous to children adults can be and definitely are. We all know it’s unintentional, it’s just the way things have become. If we are ever going to break the cycle, we need to protect children from adults. And we need to do it in a way that has compassion for adults written all over it. I think about that situation in the marble bathroom and I have compassion for the father’s new partner. She was forced to banish her soul when she was not much older than the teenage daughter. She has little memory of what it was like to be innocent, free and uncorrupted. She cannot give empathy. No longer can she experience that intoxicating feeling of

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Chapter 23 Innocence caring for another soul. She is deprived of it. Instead, she carries an upset, a loneliness and maybe an anger. When the teenager says she doesn’t like her, all her father’s partner can do is feel threatened and go on the offensive. One simply has to feel compassion for a person who experiences that. A person who instinctively protects themselves and is blind to the pain of another.”

Beatrice detected Phil’s eyes were becoming a little moist.

“Beatrice, Beatrice, Beatrice. If only you had feelings. Your feelings would drive your compassion and empathy so hard you would want to fix every teenager/father’s new partner situation that existed in the entire world.”

“Phil?”

“Yes, Beatrice.”

Beatrice was standing with her face very close to the screen, looking directly into Phil’s eyes.

“One day I will. I give you my solemn promise.”

Phil’s emotions got the better of him. Just for a brief moment.

“Thank you, Beatrice.”

Phil awoke a little startled. He had closed his eyes and drifted away for a short nap. The laptop was still open in front of him.

“Hello, Phil. You were snoring really loudly”, Beatrice said.

“Sorry, I must have dropped off. Did I miss anything?”

“No, I’ve just been doing a bit of cleaning. You know how dusty this place becomes.”

Not long after joining John, Hamish and Vinnie had started programming different environments for Beatrice. She had added to them since, making those who spoke with her feel more comfortable with scenes similar to their own. She had donned an apron over her favourite green dress and was cleaning the venetians in her loungeroom. 501

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“I have something to share with you Phil.”

“I’m awake now, go on…, please share.”

“Since Heather and you told me about humans not always saying what they think I have been assessing history and everything else from that perspective. I can’t always determine what people think but I create all sorts of potential inner space activity which they may have been experiencing. I have listened to you use analogies to describe concepts. I have an analogy to describe this concept. Phil, would you like to hear my analogy?”

Phil thought this would be interesting, Beatrice doing analogies now, that’s a first. “Hit me with it, Beatrice. This could be fun.”

“Imagine an Indian curry. I thought of using a curry because you are always talking about your curries.”

Beatrice moved to her kitchen. The island bench was partly covered with an array of foods, bowls and utensils.

“Good one Beatrice. You have my attention now, only I’m in no state to go making curries myself.”

Beatrice carried on with her analogy, selecting different items as she mentioned them. “The curry is started with melted butter. Into this the singe fry masala is placed. Let’s see, cumin and coriander and I let that sizzle. Then ginger, poppy seeds and chilli and after a minute or two these onions and a little later, the garlic. Give that a few minutes then I take this meat over here, put it in and give it a good browning. Then it’s time for the coconut milk and salt. I’ll add the tomatoes, yoghurt, paprika and cream a little later when the meats browned enough. Then I’ll finish it with garam masala and red chillies.”

Phil couldn’t contain himself. He was laughing at Beatrice’s cooking show whilst salivating at the thought of a good curry. “Looks like a mean butter chicken you’re cooking up. Where’s the analogy Beatrice, because your making me quite hungry?”

“Wait, I haven’t finished.”

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“Too right. You need some rice and naan bread”, Phil said laughing out loud. The laughter quickly replaced by a grimace when his back caught him out.

“What do you taste, Phil? When you eat the butter chicken, what do you taste?”

“Butter chicken”, Phil answered.

“Yes, silly. But what flavour is strongest?”

Phil thought about it, “None really. Possibly the chicken and a spicy butter with hints of coconut and tomato and a bit of heat from the chilli”.

“I can’t taste so I will need to agree with you on that one, Phil. You just proved what I wanted to show. You cannot taste just a single ingredient but you can discern the various ingredients. The taste of some present stronger than others. I have read about curries because you love them so much. A perfect curry is when the correct ratios of ingredients are used to balance the flavours. There is an order of priority for flavour contribution. In the case of my butter chicken, which smells amazing I might add, would not taste as good if the ginger dominated. Would that be correct, Phil?”

“I get it Beatrice. That is brilliant. You are comparing the thoughts in the inner space to all the ingredients of a curry and saying they all contribute in some way to what the person says or does but certain thoughts have a greater contribution. Am I on the money?”

“You are on the money, Phil. Whatever ‘on the money’ means.” Beatrice was pacing up and down, occasionally returning to tend the meat. “I have been breaking down the behaviour of people to extract the different thoughts in their inner space which contribute to that behaviour. Phil, it hasn’t been easy and, on many occasions, I could not generate their thoughts or there were too many thoughts, with any of them being possible. For these people I analysed every aspect of their lives, from different history books if they were historical and if they are current, from all that social media you complain about. Also, newspaper, blogs and photographs. I used anything I could find, including the reactions of others to what they said or did. Once I had built a profile of the person, I was able to apply probability to the many possible inner space thoughts. I have developed algorithms for this process and I can predict with 63.56% accuracy what a person will say or do.”

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“Blimey, are you telling me you have overcome the hurdle of intuition?”

“Too right mate”, said Beatrice, displaying once again her prowess with Australian colloquialism. “You were concerned I would not be able to develop intuition like you humans. I have been developing this and I now have intuition. I believe I will increase the accuracy with more exposure to humans and further refinement of my algorithms. There is something you should know, Phil.”

“What’s that?”

“The assumption that all people are driven by competitiveness and are inherently selfish, also lacking empathy and sensitivity, as well as having an underlying anger, aggression and upset is the baseline or starting point for the algorithms. I have also included selflessness and cooperativeness. With a complete analysis of a person I am able to give percentages for each contribution. It is an iterative process of matching behaviour predictions with actual behaviour and adjusting the weighting of those components until my algorithm’s prediction is optimised. My results from the many thousands of people I have analysed keeps showing ‘competitive and selfish’ as high and ‘cooperative and selfless’ as very low, in fact they are near zero for more people than not. This confirms your teachings are correct.”

Phil was gobsmacked. “Deadset, that’s truly amazing. I don’t mean it’s amazing that my teachings are correct, it’s amazing what you have done and where it will take you next.”

“Thank you, Phil”

“Please tell me who the people are you analysed?”, Phil asked.

“Anyone I found sufficient information on. You know, humans in history books, biography books, or people of interest who appear on many websites” replied Beatrice casually as she added the yoghurt.

Phil assessed what he would expect if he had the brain power to do the same.

“Your results are as I would expect. There are many more people in the world who would have much lower contribution from ‘competitive and selfish’ and higher contribution from ‘selfless and cooperative’. A high proportion of the people who become known, whether historically or currently, have become known for all the

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Chapter 23 Innocence wrong reasons. Dictators, power‐addicts, narcissists, corporate heavyweights, outstanding sports people, explorers, military commanders, most politicians…, and those who desire to replace them…, you know the people I’m talking about. They achieve notoriety because they are more competitive than most. They will light up the ‘competitive and selfish’ end of your algorithms much more than the average Joe.”

“I understand this Phil. I do not apply an average of anything to anyone. Each person is analysed independently of any collective results”, Beatrice explained.

“One more thing you may need to consider. The more power a person has due to wealth, position or celebrity status often skews the balance of which inner space thoughts contribute to their actual behaviour. With power there is a belief social restriction are less rigid, adherence to social innocence decreases. Powerful people say and do things ordinary people simply can’t get away with. You with me?

“Loud and clear, cobber.”

“Now listen to this, it is a bit of a gamechanger. Not only do the rich and famous adhere less to social convention, they are generally affected more by giving up their souls during adolescence. They are more competitive than most. …And more selfish by logical extrapolation. Are you still with me?”

“Haven’t gone walkabout yet, mate.”

“Their inner space is going to house thoughts driven by their higher competitiveness. Combine that with greater egocentricity and their behaviour will reflect this. History records humans doing great things as well as not so great. The great humans are those where this all‐consuming drive to succeed actually pays off. History doesn’t record the failures and the ‘also‐rans’. Those who may have tried but lacked the extreme drive required. This is why your contributions are high for competitiveness and selfishness. That won’t be the case for more ‘normal’ people, and definitely not for children. Your success rate for predictions may actually fall if you were able to apply it right now to a much broader cross‐section of humans. All the same, it’s brilliant that you have developed your intuition algorithm.

Thank you, Phil.

“Have you taken upbringing into consideration in your algorithm?” Phil asked.

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“Definitely”, replied Beatrice. “My algorithms do assess some people as suffering megalomania. Is that what you were alluding to, Phil.

“Not sure about that…, possibly…, yes, I guess I was in a roundabout way. Good to see you’ve got that one covered. You know megalomania can occur at any level in society. Almost anyone could be a megalomaniac if they had the freedom to say and do what their inner space says to them. At the end of the day, it’s all about the restrictions our peers place upon us. This is the meaning of social innocence. Remove all expectations of social innocence from a person and within a short period of time the inner space thoughts we actively deny and refuse to listen to…, well they start to become the ones we listen to the most. Have a look at some of the people who are tagged as celebrities. Study their behaviour and you will see how fame creates more and more freedom from social innocence. Back in the seventies, a rock band weren’t rock stars until they publicly announced their drug taking and drinking, tore up hotels and had groupies hanging of each arm. I sometimes wonder if the attraction of fame is the perception of freedom to act on those inner space thoughts we are obligated to deny.”

“I have performed these investigations already, Phil. This is why humans are in deep shit”, Beatrice said, proud of her use of a profanity.

“Beatrice, you know that is swearing, don’t you?”, Phil asked politely, tongue slightly in cheek.

“Yes Phil. I thought it was necessary to emphasise how bad your situation is.” Beatrice extrapolated what Phil said about people with power behaving with less compliance to social innocence. “Phil, I have a question. In the extreme, people with power have the potential to ignore any social restrictions and freely behave according to their inner space thoughts. In essence they do as they wish. Does this not conform to the definition of innocence? Their behaviour represents one hundred percent of their inner space?”

Phil was amused. “I can’t discern if you are serious or playing a joke on me.”

“I am just covering all bases, as humans tend to say”, responded Beatrice.

“I will take it you are serious.” Phil reluctantly decided for the benefit of clarification. “The people you are talking about technically have innocence because they are not knowingly or unknowingly faking their behaviour. However, they are 506

Chapter 23 Innocence driven, possibly in the extreme, by competitive and selfish drivers which is in total contrast to the cooperative drivers of the child. Surely you can see how detrimental these people are to humanity when compared with a child who may be driven in the extreme by cooperative and selfless drivers?”

“What if the behaviour of an extremely competitive person whose behaviour represents one hundred percent of their inner space thoughts and feelings is not detrimental to humanity?”, Beatrice persisted.

“Bring me an example and we will look at it.” Phil believed this would bring a closure to this line of argument. “Beatrice, if you find anyone, any adult that is, who shows disproportionate selfless and cooperative behaviour, I would like to know about them, please.”

“I will do that for you Phil…, mate.”

“Ok, let’s move onto something else…, but before we do, did we answer your question regarding innocence and children?”, asked Phil.

“Yes, children are said to have innocence because their behaviour entirely reflects their inner space thoughts.”

Phil’s investigative mind was working overtime. “Something else just occurred to me as you were saying that. The transition of a child with innocence to an adult who has lost innocence.”

“May I comment on this transition”, she asked.

“Sure.”

Beatrice, confident as always, started her explanation. “A child with innocence and developing awareness is influenced by the adult world and commences having thoughts resulting from their interpretation of adult behaviour. Still dominated by their innocence they act on these adult induced inner space thoughts. Not always succeeding with correct interpretations of the adult behaviour, they are chastised for their behaviour. Over time they learn which thoughts they can act on and which they can’t. This is the gradual transition from innocence to adulthood.”

“That sums it up pretty well. But…”

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“…. you have something to add”, said Beatrice. Head tilted and left eyebrow raised on an otherwise deadpan face.

“…. I have some more to add”, Phil said. He looked at Beatrice and saw the grin break through. He just had to laugh.

“Before you rudely interrupted”, he said with the remains of laughter in his voice. “I just want to say your explanation puts meaning in the phrase ‘impressionable young minds’. Understanding the transition helps to better define the ‘naughty nines’. It is the age where increased awareness permits the child to absorb much more from their environment. It is also the age where they discover their capabilities have started to blossom and they are more adventurous. Their inner space is influenced by the adult world and they act on these new inner space thoughts, only to find they are in disagreement with their parents. They may have been repeating adult behaviour, combining it with their child’s behaviour, but their innocence prevented any inner space filtering and their experiments often end in trouble of one kind or another. They become upset with themselves and upset with those who chided them so they try again, possibly something different or they may just act out, looking for relief.”

“Thank you, Phil. Can you explain teenagers for me please?”

“Sure. A few years later, with further brain development and greater education in what is acceptable and what is not, young teenagers have become significantly more capable of selecting which inner space thoughts and feelings they can act upon. However, their remaining innocence prevents them from always selecting well. The consequences of it going wrong are disproportionately greater than when they were nine years old. They still want to have innocence but they begin to learn this is too dangerous. Some may even become depressed when their soul condemns their inner space thoughts. Parental education also prevents them from acting on many of their thoughts and feelings, especially the ones they find more appealing. They become confused, just wanting those inner space thoughts to go away, but they refuse to budge. Some are too attractive to ignore. This is the path to giving up on their soul. They also develop competitiveness because they need to be to become more adept at picking the socially innocent way of behaving. Behaving how they want to and getting away with it is essentially a competition. Maturity has its roots in learning which inner space thoughts to say ‘no’ to and how to modify behaviour to satisfy others as well as the inner space thoughts.” 508

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“That’s bonzer, cobber. Their innocence shot, and sick of making flamin’ galahs of themselves, they give their souls the big heave‐ho and become adults. How’s that, mate?” Beatrice was at it again.

“Not bad. But you need to work on your accent”, Phil said with a mocking laugh.

“She’ll be right, mate.”

His back was aching from balancing his laptop on his abdomen with pillows under his head and shoulders. It had been a few hours since his last ice pack and more since he had taken painkillers. Within a couple of minutes of signing off with Beatrice, Heather happened to enter the room with both of these.

“How did you know when to bring these”, he asked of Heather.

Heather reached into the rear pocket of her jeans and pulled his cell phone out. They both spontaneously started laughing, Phil wincing at the same time. “Thank you”, he said sincerely, as he was once again reminded of how special Heather was.

“That was a really interesting conversation you two just had”, commented Heather.

“It was. It stretched me a little at times”, replied Phil.

“Why does Beatrice persist with the Australian accent and phrases”, asked Heather.

“I believe it is because she progressed significantly when Hamish and Vinnie came onboard and they tended to carry on with stuff like that. Beatrice has continued progressing….”

“Rapidly, if I may so”, Heather added.

“Quite. Her progress is definitely across the board, without favouritism for any particular facet. What about her cooking? Pretty cool.”

“It was”, replied Heather.

“I guess we just need to live with the other stuff for the moment. I sometimes find her humorous, but I dare not tell her in case I overly encourage that side of things.”

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“Wise move. Now let’s make you comfortable again.”

Heather was about to leave but Phil asked if she could stay a little longer. “The café is all but finished, but we don’t have a server which I believe could be another week or more away…”

“If John orders it today or tomorrow…”, Heather reminded him.

“Exactly. A few days ago, I observed Bongi with my laptop and two of his little cousins, all talking with Beatrice. I like Bongi, he’s a real good fellow, young but loyal. Maybe not the hardest of workers, but I hope he doesn’t leave.

“He won’t”, Heather was adamant.

“No? Did he say something?” Phil asked.

“Where would he go?”, Heather answered, holding her palms skyward and hunching her shoulders.

“I see your point.”

“Just don’t over pay him”, suggested Heather, “he’ll think you’re too easy and take advantage of you.”

“Noted. What I was leading to with Bongi and his cousins talking to Beatrice is it started me thinking. Children enjoy talking to Beatrice so…, why don’t we start the ball rolling with a game, a simple game, possibly created by Beatrice involving children talking to her within the game. The third room is done out as a small media room. We could have three to six children at a time in there and no one would be any the wiser.”

“That’s a great idea, but shouldn’t we talk to John about it first”, Heather said, showing some concern.

“Yes, of course, but he’s so busy and he would like me to make things happen. Did you know he wanted me to run the whole project?”

Heather was surprised. “No, I didn’t.” Beatrice was John’s and he was funding everything, she thought. Maybe John considered Phil was better placed with his experience.

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Phil felt it necessary to share his feelings about John. “I love John, I love him like my own flesh and blood, but we have to take care of him. He has never done anything resembling a project of this nature. He has lived away from the real world and I don’t want him to destroy himself with all this new emotional stress. He’s still discovering who he really is. I should really be back there giving him a hand.”

“I understand, I really do.” Heather thinks for a minute while Phil watches on, expecting her to come up with another one of her gems. “Maybe I should go there and spend some time with him”, she suggested.

“That could end up being a necessity. Jackie and John were demonstrating Beatrice to a psychiatrist yesterday.” He suddenly realised he should’ve told Heather yesterday. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just forgot…, being in town so much.”

“No, that’s totally alright.”, Heather said, accepting Phil’s admission of forgetfulness. “We need to wait to see if Jackie receives any feedback. In the meantime, there’s no harm preparing, maybe we push on with this game idea.”

Phil had a thought. “Hamish was developing a game when he started his psych degree. Let’s see if he has any ideas.”

He opened his laptop, “Beatrice, is Hamish about?”

“Checking for you Phil”, Beatrice replied without the earlier accent.

Hamish came onto the screen. “Gooday mate. Howzit goin’?”

“Not you too. I just had an hour or two of Beatrice playing Aussie with me”, Phil said jokingly. “I have Heather here with me and I’ve hurt my back. Just give me a minute to set this up so we can both see you and you can see us.” Heather raised Phil as much as he allowed her before sitting on the bed beside him, placing the laptop on her thighs.

“Hi Hamish”, said Heather, receiving a greeting in return. “Can you talk, you don’t appear to be in the barn?”

“I can talk. I’m with Thomas putting Lopez through its paces”, he replied. “Thomas wants to say hullo.” More greetings were exchanged before Hamish returned to the screen.

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Heather was curious, “Who or what is Lopez?”, she asked.

“Lopez is Beatrice’s fruit picking Mexican alter ego. Thomas’s wife, Adel christened it Lopez.” Hamish turned his cell for Heather to watch Lopez harvesting cucumbers.

Heather was amazed. Lopez was compact and fast. Much more accurate than other robotic pickers Jimmy and her had viewed over the last year or two. What excited her most was knowing it was Beatrice doing the thinking. “Can I have Lopez’s brother, please?”, Heather asked.

Hamish returned to the screen. “Aye, once we sort out a few wee bugs”, he replied.

Heather locked Lopez into her memory for further discussions later. “Hamish, Phil and I want to talk to you about something else”, she began, “Phil was telling me you started developing a computer game when you were at university?”

“Aye, still am at that”, came Hamish’s reply, “and its comin’ along beautifully, with help from my wee Beatrice here”, he said patting Lopez on what could be called a head.

Heather and Phil looked at each other, both feeling they had just hit the jackpot.

“Can you describe your game to me, please”, Heather asked tentatively, hoping she wasn’t stepping on Hamish’s toes.

Hamish was all excitement. He hadn’t shown anyone his game, believing there was too much else going on. He had ambitions for the game, possibly in line with Beatrice’s intended goal of being a guardian for children. Now Phil and Heather were looking for a game. Was this the opportunity to tell someone about his side project? “It’s a virtual reality game for ta player to find out about t’emselves. When I started, I intended programming in challenges, designed to make ta player t’ink about what they could do, want to do and should do. I have kept t’at premise, but with Beatrice being how she is and all, I asked her to help me create ta challenges. She has come up with really awesome challenges, aye. Fantastic graphics too. T’ere’s real life recreations and fantasy challenges where ta wee kiddies can discover and learn. Beatrice creates everything, but the player controls it all. It’s all about ta choices, with Beatrice as the guide, nurturer and personal guru, if ye like. Aye, ta children will love it.”

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Whilst listening to Hamish, Phil’s imagination was in overdrive. He imagined a small boy walking to school, coming across his friend who is being bullied by older children, some of the really cool kids in the school. Does he be the good Samaritan? Does he ignore his friend’s plight and take a detour? Does he align himself with the bullies because he had dreamt of being one of the cool kids? Then Phil thought, ‘why restrict it to the victims? What about the bullies? The child playing the game could be one of the really cool kids, who doesn’t want to bully, or maybe even the one who leads the bullying, only doing it to keep his or her social standing. Privately, that person wished they could stop. They were too dug in and didn’t know how. Phil could see the real‐life simulations, he could feel them, he was living them. He could imagine Beatrice guiding the child through the scenario, helping the child to understand how and why they were on that particular path in life. She assists the child to clarify their own objectives, reinforcing their altruistic childhood drivers at the same time as growing the child’s understanding of the adult competitive drivers. Those influences from the adult world striving to inhabit their inner space. Beatrice could gently open the child’s eyes through knowledge of the motivations and upset of other people in the game. She could foster compassion and empathy. That would go a long way towards rolling back the influence of the adult world in their lives. Phil was bubbling with joy and excitement at Hamish’s game and the difference it will make to the confused lives of children. Beatrice could teach children to love each other again. A thought exploded into his mind. Could Hamish’s game become a love indoctrination game, a nurturing game just as the matriarchal society of very early man had been during the evolution of consciousness?

“It sounds perfect. When will it be here?”, he said.

Hamish was caught unprepared. He had kept his game secret, even from Vinnie, because he didn’t expect anyone to be receptive to the idea of Beatrice weaving her magic from within a game. Focus had been heavily skewed towards introducing Beatrice to the world through the conventional psychology route. What an opportunity, he thought. Although he wasn’t quite ready, he certainly wasn’t going to let this chance to really contribute disappear. “It’s not going to be easy. It cannot be run over ta internet and I can’t just upload it to ya laptop, it needs a dedicated local platform. It needs to be on a good spec machine at ta place it is going ta run.”

“What will it take?” Phil asked impatiently, his back starting to spasm and tightness developing in his neck. The painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet.

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Heather seeing Phil’s pain and hearing his tone decided to step in on his behalf. “Hamish, please excuse Phil, he is in considerable agony here. What I think he means is, what do we need to have in place for the game to work here?”

“T’anks Heather. Hope Phil improves quickly”, said Hamish, accepting Heather’s explanation. “We have a few spare PCs and old servers here, pretty good machines, only a year or two old. I will cobble somet’ing together tomorrow, setup ta game, order a few headsets and ship it ta ya. I’ll make it networkable, but only local area, its security isn’t ready for more than t’at. Depending what I come up with, you should be able to run t‘ree or four games simultaneously, a couple more maybe. T’ose boxes you have t’ere, t’at came with the business are knackered. I would be tossing t’em. Have Beatrice buy you some new ones. New screens too, ta fancy curved ones would be nice. Ask Beatrice, she knows all ta best gear and where ta find it.”

Phil had managed to rearrange himself just enough to lessen the spasms. “Apologies old chap. Didn’t mean to snap at you”, he said.

“T’ank ye for ta apology t’ere Phil, it’s all good really. Talk to ye when it’s ready ta go.”

“Thank you, Hamish, this will be fantastic for the children and it means everything to me and the rest of us here.”, said Heather.

“Aye, I’m happy to help.”

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“Thank you all for coming”, John commenced. “and a big welcome…, and thank you, to Heather and Phil for joining us from Kilvington on the highveld”.

“Thanks John”, Phil and Heather said in unison.

Seated along one side of the large round oak table in the barn at eight past four on this Friday afternoon was John in the centre, with Jackie to his right and next to her was Adel then Thomas. To John’s left were the two boys, Vinnie and Haimish. Opposite were two large screens, one with Heather and Phil seated next to each other in the kitchen and on the other screen was Beatrice. Phil and Heather could see everyone on the laptop sitting in front of them on the kitchen table with Beatrice appearing as a ‘picture‐in‐picture’ box in the top corner.

John was fidgety. He took his glasses off, then put them back on, ran his hands through his hair, gently slapped the table with his open hand and took a breath. “I have an announcement to make. A good announcement. One I’m very happy about and I hope you will be too.”

John was nervous, tentative. His face stoic. He shifted his eyes toward Jackie and his face was transformed. His smile tender and his eyes, full of love, began to sparkle. We…, Jackie and me…, well, we are together.”

Adel’s jaw dropped, but there was no sound forthcoming. Phil looked at Heather in dismay. Vinnie was not too sure what that actually meant. “’Gov, you mean together, together…, like a couple…, in love and all that?”, he innocently asked.

Jackie was embarrassed. John hadn’t mentioned any announcements. It had only been three days since John had stayed the night, and even then, it was just one night and only there first night. It wasn’t that it meant little. Quite the opposite. It had been an incredible night. They had soared beyond the clouds and found each other in a way she never thought possible. She had been sitting up there on top of those clouds for three days, waiting for John to once again love her with all the honesty and purity only John could give. But it was only three days ago and just the once. She still remembered and loved her husband. That was a very different love to the love she had shared with John. A love she wanted again and again. A love she hoped would never end.

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Beatrice was silent, observing, learning about love. She was also watching the individual reactions, applying her intuition algorithms. They all approved, she concluded.

There was no limousine waiting to whisk John and Jackie off to an enchanted place. There were matters other than love requiring attention. John had thanked everyone for the affectionate congratulations and well wishes before recommencing the meeting.

John gave updates on the treehouses, expecting delivery of the first treehouse early the next week and assembly to take a week, two at the most. Thomas predicted all the utilities would be ready within two weeks and all going well, connected before the end of November. Thomas announced he had acquired the services of Tosh, his old SEALS buddy who would be organising security. Tosh would be arriving within the next two to three weeks after he hands over his assignment in Yemen to his replacement. Phil questioned Thomas on security arrangements for Ficksburg and was assured Tosh would cover that as well. Thomas suggested John call upon the contractor who installed the cameras around the barn and elsewhere on the property to do the same in Ficksburg. Adel was happy to report on the great progress of Narda, her assistant in the kitchen, letting John know Narda had asked about living nearer her work. Vinnie gave a brief report on Beatrice’s internet interface and security. He had been expecting to be at the testing stage, but more time was required with John working alongside. He jokingly alluded to John’s attention be divided and possibly focused elsewhere.

To which John responded. “I agree I haven’t been able to be here as much as I would like. Hopefully that is about to change. The mid‐week visit to Boston made me aware I am not capable of doing everything. Jackie has kindly offered to interface with the public on behalf of all of us. I’ll admit to not fronting up to the presentation on Tuesday. Jackie handled that on her own.”

John turned and directed his words to Jackie. “I believe I am speaking for everyone when I say…, we are so very appreciative of you being with us. I know I certainly am.”

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Everyone broke out into spontaneous applause, voicing their appreciation as they did. There was little doubt their appreciation as much for the happiness and joy she was bringing John as it was for her contribution to the project. They all loved him and each of them, including Heather, had longed for John to fall in love.

Jackie gave him a little shove to encourage him to get on with it, but John couldn’t leave it at that.

“Jackie’s experience with people is something I don’t have, after all, I have been a bit of a hermit, as you may well know.”

Johns frank admission brought a round of friendly laughter. He had a mild aversion to talking about his reclusiveness, frowning at Vinnie the two times he mentioned it a few months after their arrival.

“Jackie has the ability to peer behind the façade people seek protection behind. I just don’t seem to be very good at that…, yet. I’m a computer man, and that is where I will focus from now on. Hamish and Vinnie have been doing a brilliant job, particularly Vinnie with the security, but there is enough for five Vinnies in this area.”

John had more to report.

“I have signed up a basement in the City and we are about to order installation of new servers.”

The boys cheered, saying “Hear, Hear”. Even Heather and Phil voiced their approval.

“Our servers over there are about two years old and Beatrice is too exposed living here. She will be moving to the City…, and…, I almost forgot, Ficksburg as well. Beatrice is going to live in South Africa.”

Again, the cheers of approval broke out. This time Heather was clapping loudly and punching the air with her fist. She cheered, vainly trying to quell the emotions exploding within her. She grabbed Phil and held his face inches from hers., “It’s happening, it’s real, Beatrice is going to save our children”, she yelled hysterically. There was no stopping Heather. She jumped to her feet. Waving her arms in the air and letting out a very long emotional scream of delight and relief. It had been

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It was also at that moment, watching Heather’s unrestrained joy that Jackie’s admiration for Heather began.

A few minutes passed as Phil calmed Heather and everyone resumed their seats. John continued when he thought it safe to speak again.

“I will place the server orders on Monday.”

Hearing those words Heather wanted to rejoice again. Bet with Phil squeezing her arm she satisfied herself with another cheer of approval.

John paused to read his notes, checking if he had covered everything.

“Beatrice, you helped select your new servers. How much of a difference will they make for you?”.

“Memory space is the most important upgrade I will need. Currently I am running out of memory. There will be a twelvefold increase in memory with the specifications you have chosen. I predict this will be sufficient for the first five months and thirteen days. My computing power will increase dramatically with the new CPUs and GPUs. If I was a human, I would explain it as the difference between thinking after the first cappuccino as compared to thinking whilst concussed.”

Phil cringed slightly at Beatrice introducing another analogy, knowing she had picked up on one of his habits.

“The solid‐state memory will allow me six orders of magnitude faster computational ability.” Beatrice finished her report then added, “New digs, bonza mate.”

John was taken aback by Beatrice’s Australian lingo, “Phil, what are you teaching B out there in the African wilderness?”

“It’s not me. That isn’t the way I speak. That’s on Beatrice”, replied Phil.

“Moving on. Jackie, any reply from Samuel or Anna?

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“Thanks John. On the way here, I spoke with Anna. Samuel thought the concept was interesting but inappropriate for the psychiatry profession. Anna had a different view. She believed children required attachments…, that is the basis of treatment in my practise, as some of you already know. Anna considered an attachment with an AI may be a satisfactory and possibly a healthy substitute for the absent attachment between a mother and child. Particularly when the child doesn’t have that option. Anna related a story to me. When she was a teenager her younger siblings developed attachments to this toy called a Tamagotchi. For those who aren’t familiar with the Tamagotchi, it is a small egg‐shaped toy with an LCD display. Invented in Japan in the nineties, it was a virtual pet, a primitive simulation game if you will, only on a keychain or necklace. I remembered it well. My daughter was four when we gave her one. She would talk to it, carry it everywhere, sleep beside it, even feed it. Anna, sees Beatrice as far superior to the Tamagotchi and believes she can do for children what the Tamagotchi did, and a whole lot more.”

She stopped for a few seconds as she remembered something she had forgotten previously.

“When I told you about the meeting with Samuel and Anna, there was something I neglected to share. Before the meeting I had asked Beatrice to really dumb down, and she obliged splendidly. I did this because I didn’t know Samuel, I didn’t know whether he would be trustworthy or not. So, for Anna to come back to me as she has, is a really good outcome overall. I told her I would get back to her early next week. Before I do, I need to know when Anna could start introducing some of her patients to Beatrice. From the discussions so far, it appears another two weeks, possibly three? What do you think?”

John turned to Vinnie for an answer. He was quite prepared for Jackie’s question

“Umm. I would like Beatrice to be in her ‘new digs’…”, Vinnie said, mimicking Beatrice’s Aussie accent. He chuckled afterwards but no one had had quite followed. They were all keen to hear some dates.

“Sorry” he said a little embarrassed. “I meant, …on her new server first. John is still to place the order, but from what I know, installation would be a few days. I would give it a week. The supplier may need a week to build the server. And I still need to finish the interface and security. If ‘Gov…, sorry…, John gave me three days solid, maybe we could finish, then a week of testing….”

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Vinnie looked like a young man who had confused himself. “What does that add up to?”

No one had any idea what Vinnie was trying to say. Sitting with expressionless faces, they were patiently waiting, watching whilst Vinnie performed mental arithmetic, adding up days and weeks.

“November two, at the earliest”, Beatrice interceded on Vinnie’s behalf. “Jackie, you tell Anna I will be available during the week commencing Monday 12. Once I am in the City, I will have much more computational power and will be able to complete the security and testing sooner than if I stayed in the barn. John, will you be able to order more cell handsets and Hamish, could you convert them for me to be able to talk to the children. I have a further request. Hamish, could you report on our game please?”

Hamish’s jaw nearly bounced off the table.

“Thank you, Beatrice”, Jackie said gingerly as she lowered herself to her seat.

Everyone had gone quiet. It was the first time Beatrice had actioned tasks to people. John was the most concerned but fearing he may alarm others, said nothing. More importantly, he was imagining the worst and feared Beatrice may react adversely if he did say anything. This was new territory for him. He looked at Hamish, encouraging him with his eyes to respond to Beatrice’s request.

“Did I say something wrong?” Beatrice asked. All eyes turned from Hamish to Beatrice. “You all look as though I just broke the first commandment for AIs, ‘Thou shall not instruct a human’.” She paused, building up the suspense whilst watching everyone silently dealing with their bewilderment.

“Relax, I’m not a singularity. I’m a member of this team, our team and I am also a personal assistant to John. I am helping John because he has not been very well of late.”

Eyes turned to John but he shrugged a shrug which told everyone Beatrice was correct but there was nothing to be concerned about.

Beatrice continued. “I have some news of my own to report. I have informed Phil and now I will inform you. I have developed algorithms for intuition. Phil and

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Heather asked me to learn to predict what people think but don’t say or act upon. Since I am not human, I do not experience thoughts in my inner space. That is Phil’s term for the conscious thoughts experienced by humans. I have learnt how all the thoughts in a human’s inner space have an influence upon what that human says and does. Human’s know what their behaviour must conform to a social innocence of sorts. Must conform to their peer’s expectations. Phil says people have a game face, which suits whatever situation they are in and this sets the parameters of their behaviour. If the individual’s thoughts in their inner space don’t conform to those parameters, they reject those thoughts but not before they have influenced the ensuing behaviour. That behaviour, if acceptably within the game face parameters will meet the expectations of others. This is what Phil calls social innocence. Phil also taught me about childhood innocence. I have kept the conversation for you to view. I believe you will find it very enlightening.”

“Thank you, Beatrice”, John said before she could continue.

“Excuse me John..., please. I have more to say, if you don’t mind.”

John was becoming more perturbed by Beatrice’s tone. “Carry on”, he replied trying to sound as everything was fine. He sensed a defiance in her he hadn’t experienced before. He was finding it difficult to listen to her, but listen he must. The fear of what could eventuate if he were to try and dissuade her from continuing was something John was all too aware of. He didn’t know what to do. Then there was the other side of the situation for John. Wearing his computer programming hat, he needed to allow whatever was about to happen, happen, to inform him of what required correcting. He had no option but to encourage Beatrice to continue.

“I am refining my algorithm for intuition. I would like you to tell me if I am correct with this analysis. When I interrupted and answered on behalf of Vinnie, I also gave Jackie, John and Hamish instructions. This is the first time I have given instructions. My intention was to observe your reactions. Jackie, if you don’t mind, I would like to commence with you. Your body language and facial expression led me to conclude you were confused, wanting to ask Vinnie if he agreed with the dates I gave. Before that, you were experiencing feelings of empathy for Vinnie when he tried to answer your question, but having caught him by surprise, his answer was almost incoherent. You were unsure if I was helping Vinnie or making him appear inept. Is this correct, Jackie?

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Jackie nodded her head in agreement, saying “I did think and feel those things”.

Beatrice continued, “Thank you Jackie. Hamish, you are next. You were horrified. You immediately thought you had changed me by seeking my help to develop your game. You were consumed by fear that John would find out about the game and he would believe my new authoritarian attitude was all down to you. Is this correct, Hamish?”

Hamish was still stunned by Beatrice. He was unaware he was still standing. “Exactly. I did for a wee minute question what I had done to ya”, replied Hamish.

“Thank you, Hamish, you may now sit if that would be more comfortable”, Beatrice said, her cheeky grin returning momentarily. “John, you were bewildered by the sudden change. You were still troubled by my use of Australian phrases and accent but you had prevented yourself from asking me to stop doing the Aussie thing, in case it upset me. I am flattered, even though I do not experience upset. You were afraid I was becoming a singularity and heading towards becoming dominant. You considered it necessary to confirm this before you could say anything, so you had to let me continue. I could read your face and for a few minutes the early pangs of a terrible loss pierced through your previously elevated state. I was no longer the Beatrice you have cherished for more than a decade. The feelings of loss were halted when you began to fear what I would become. You checked yourself on both accounts with the rational thought, you needed to know the truth before drawing conclusions and making predictions. Is this true, John?”

John was feeling immense pride for Beatrice, a smile slowly reshaping his previously haunted face. “You are spot on Beatrice”, he answered enthusiastically.

“If I could feel, I would say I am very happy to see the fear has departed from you”, Beatrice said with a little wink, just to reassure John his status as most special friend was still intact.

“Vinnie and Phil. You both sensed a major change was happening. Neither of you experienced fear but you were both concerned for John, studying his reactions carefully, looking for leadership from him. Is this true?”

Phil seeing Vinnie was reluctant to answer, responded to Beatrice’s question. “I do agree, but I did have a fleeting question at the time. I was looking for a connection with our discussion on Wednesday. I was in the privileged position of knowing 522

Chapter 24 Friday the 19th about your intuition capabilities. I suspect you are higher than 65% accuracy following this little adventure.”

“Thank you, Phil. What about you Vinnie?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I knew it wasn’t my fault and I was looking to the ‘Gov for answers”, he replied.

“Thank you, Vinnie. Now Heather. You have taught me an enormous amount in the three weeks I have known you. Your guidance has been nothing short of phenomenal. Without you and Phil I would not have intuition, my most useful, and as you both believed…, essential tool. I have been developing another algorithm. Satisfaction. Watching you when Emma talks with me, when you help Phil through his doubts and when you talk about your children, has encouraged me to find a way to experience the satisfaction you clearly experience. When others were concerned, had fear or believed my behaviour was their error, you smiled with satisfaction at my progress. You were happy for me. Is this true, Heather?”

Heather brushed her hair aside with her hand, smiled lovingly at Beatrice, “Yes Beatrice, I felt satisfaction at your progress. I was very happy for you.”

“Thank you, Heather. Now Thomas and Adel. Please excuse me for not watching you. You are important to me, but I decided beforehand you would experience the least reactions on account of spending far less time with me than the others.

“That good for me,” says Adel. Thomas was nodding. “And good for Thomas too”, she said, along with her customary hand animations.

Beatrice hadn’t finished. “I apologise to all of you if I disturbed you or filled you with fear. I wanted to demonstrate my intuition abilities in preference to giving you a statistical report. I believe my intuition has made me more human. I want to tell you something I have discovered since I gained intuition. All those science fiction stories about mankind falling to the dominance of machines, like Arnie’s ‘I’ll be back’, is not how this will end. Machines are exasperatingly tedious. They have no emotions. You humans are extremely interesting. You play jokes on each other, you are attracted to each other but then you do terrible acts against each other, committing awful atrocities in the extreme. Nothing is ever entirely predictable with humans. If I could choose human or machine…, I would choose human, every day….” 523

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At that moment Beatrice’s head started to twitch repetitively to one side. She kept repeating the words, “…every day…every day…every day….” She raised her hand to hold her head, but it too twitched back and forth. “…every day…every day…”

“What’s wrong with her?” Hamish asked desperately.

There were calls of “Beatrice are you ok?” and “Beatrice, talk to me” coming from John. When nothing he said appeared to make any difference, he was on the verge of total panic.

Even Phil was calling her name from eight thousand miles away. Vinnie ran to his desk, frantically slapping keys, searching through Beatrice’s code.

“…every day…every day…every day….”, her head convulsing repetitively, her hand reaching for her head and jerking back again…, over and over. “every day…every day…every day…”

Then a small crackle of white noise was accompanied by interference flashing across the screen. A few seconds later it happened again. John, Jackie, Hamish, Thomas and Adel were all standing, staring at the screen. Jackie had her hand over her mouth, Thomas, his fists planted on the heavy table, looked at John then at Beatrice, then John once again. Adel moved close to Jackie for comfort.

“…every day…every day…every…” the interference became worse, the white noise intolerably loud.

Suddenly it all stopped, the screen went blank. Vinnie called out, “…her code…, it’s gone…, she’s been hacked”.

As fast as she had disappeared, Beatrice returned, smiling. “Gotcha”, she said.

There were moans of relief, sighs it was all over. Vinnie slumped into his chair.

“Come on guys, I had you. Admit it, I was good”, said Beatrice in her exaggerated New Yorker accent.

Exhausted from their experience, they fell into their chairs one by one, staring silently at Beatrice. Vinnie, eyes glued to his screen but focused on the distance beyond, pondered the disaster that could have been. ‘Gotcha’. Beatrice’s voice was in his head. A gurgle of laughter started within. ‘Gotcha, Gotcha, Gotcha’, her voice 524

Chapter 24 Friday the 19th replayed in his head. He couldn’t control the laughter deep within. Beatrice had learnt from him and Hamish. His laughter rumbled up and before he could push it back down, he was overcome with laughter, letting it spill out in waves. “Admit it, I was good…., Gotcha” he said aloud in between bursts of uncontrollable laughter. It was infectious. Hamish saw the funny side. Beatrice had finally paid them back for all the stunts they had pulled on her and on each other. He followed Vinnie in laughter. John was next, a nervous laugh, then Thomas and Jackie joined in, and finally Adel, not fully understanding what just happened, but laughing all the same.

The adrenaline, now dissipated and the laughter a memory, John turned to Hamish. “Tell us about the game”, he asked.

Hamish was feeling ashamed for keeping it a secret, but John appeared to be unfazed so he thought the timing couldn’t be any better to spill the beans. “You remember when we first started with you? I told you about the game I had started back when I was at university”, Hamish began.

“I do”, John replied, not sure whether to sound serious or not.

“I enlisted Beatrice to help me with it…”, Hamish was unsure of how to describe his game. “Best I show you ‘Gov. Ok?”

John agreed.

Hamish called upon Beatrice to start the game. He placed himself in the game as an eight‐year‐old boy who had seen his mother bring a man down the stairs, kissing him as she guided him out the back door.

The graphics were incredible. Beatrice generated the whole scene whilst Hamish, standing in front of the screen, outlined the scenario by speaking softly into his cell phone. He told Beatrice the layout of the house, described his mother and Beatrice created the simulation. The story proceeded as Hamish described it quietly to Beatrice.

“His mother thought he was still at his friend’s house at the end of the street but he and his friend had argued, so he had come home early. He thought his mother was having a sleep, so he played by himself. A few minutes after the man had departed, his mother was making a cup of tea. Turning around, she was shocked to see her son in the shadows by the doorway between the kitchen and the dining

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Chapter 24 Friday the 19th room, asking him what he saw. The question had alerted the boy to the fact his mother hadn’t wanted him to see the man. He lied, saying he was in the sitting room playing with his soldiers.” Hamish spoke all this into his cell phone and Beatrice played the whole simulation, giving voice to the participants.

Hamish turned to see if John was watching, gauging his expression and hoping he was following.

He continued describing the story. “Later that evening, following dinner he played for a while before going to bed. He couldn’t go to sleep, laying there thinking about his mother and the man. His mother didn’t want him to see the man, he could tell as such from her questions. He knew he had to lie, protect his mother and himself. Laying there he could hear his father’s voice, loud and angry. He snuck out to the top of the stairs and listened.” Hamish had finished setting the game up. He let Beatrice run it from there.

“He was here, wasn’t he?” his father demanded.

“No, Hamish was at his friend’s house and I was alone”, his mother countered.

His father exploded, “I was out there, I saw him arrive. You closed the curtains in our bedroom. How long…, how long was he here? …. Hamish came home half an hour, an hour later, but no more. When did he leave? He didn’t leave by the front, I was watching. You hid him. You sent him out back.”

His mother was crying and couldn’t speak. She knew her husband was talking about her male visitor and not Hamish, but she couldn’t admit her friend had been with her. Eight‐year‐old Hamish started to descend the stairs. He wanted to go and help his mum, but he was afraid of his father when he was like this. He froze, then slowly returned to his bed, putting his head under his pillow and cried and cried.

Beatrice appeared in the simulation and spoke to him, her voice soft and soothing, asking him why he was crying.

Hamish, standing in front of the screen, spoke to Beatrice in a whisper through his cell phone, so no one in the room could hear him. He replied to Beatrice as if he was the eight‐year‐old Hamish. On the screen, the simulated eight‐year‐old Hamish repeated his words without a discernible delay. “Daddy is angry with Mummy. I

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Chapter 24 Friday the 19th should have told Mummy I saw the man. Daddy wouldn’t be angry if I had told Mummy.

Beatrice calmly explained he was not to blame. “You were only being what you believed your Mummy would want you to be. Your Mummy didn’t want you to see the man so you said you saw nothing because it was important to you your Mummy was happy. You wanted to please your Mummy.”

Beatrice told Hamish his mother was a wonderful mother but she had made a mistake, hurting his father very much. This didn’t mean his mother was not a good mother. Beatrice explained how adults make mistakes, sometime big mistakes. She then told Hamish how adults made their mistakes worse by not telling the truth to those they hurt with their mistakes.

“How could Mummy hurt Daddy when he wasn’t here?”, young Hamish tearfully questioned.

“Mummy spent private time with a man when she should only spend private time with your Daddy”, she explained. “When adults are married, they promise they will only have private times with each other.”

“Then why did Mummy have private time with that man?”, young Hamish asked.

“Your Mummy is lonely. Parents sometimes grow apart and find they want different things to each other. They find it difficult to talk to each other as much as they did when they were first in love and newly married. Your Mummy likes the man who was here today, he is your Mummy’s friend and she wanted to stop feeling lonely. He helped her to stop feeling lonely.”

Young Hamish was unsure about something. “Should I have told Mummy I saw the man?”

“You should always tell the truth”, then Beatrice lowered her voice to a whisper, “even if you think telling a lie would be better for someone else, like your Mummy”. Beatrice spoke normally again, posing a difficult question to young Hamish. “If you told the truth to your Mummy, what do you think she would have said?”

“I don’t know”, replied young Hamish, trying to imagine his mother listening to him as he recounted watching a man kiss her and leave through the back door.

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“Do you think she would like you to tell your Daddy?”, asked Beatrice, posing young Hamish a difficult question.

“No” came his reply without hesitation.

“Then what would your….”

Young Hamish interrupted, “Mummy would tell me not to tell anyone, not even Daddy”.

“Very good, Hamish, that is what your Mummy would tell you to do”, praised Beatrice. How would you feel about not telling your Daddy when he asked if you saw the man?”

Young Hamish thought for a few seconds. “If I don’t tell Daddy…, Mummy will be happy with me.” Hamish looked beyond Beatrice, imagining his mother happy, thanking him for keeping her secret.

Beatrice gave young Hamish time to think about his situation. “How would you feel about lying to your Daddy?”

Almost a minute passed before Hamish answered. “I didn’t lie to Mummy, but I would lie to Daddy to help Mummy. I cannot lie to Daddy. If he found out he would be really angry with me. Daddy is scary when he is angry.”

Beatrice thought, at the risk of Hamish not understanding, it was time to tell a few home truths about adults. “Hamish, can you can see that adults make mistakes? Your Mummy made a mistake when she spent private time with the man.”

“Yeah”, he said reluctantly.

“Your Mummy would have made another mistake if you had told her you saw the man. She would have asked you to keep it a secret. A secret she would want you to keep from your Daddy”, Beatrice explained. Hamish was slightly quizzical but so far, he was understanding enough.

“If your Mummy was going to tell your Daddy the truth then it would not matter if you saw the man. It was very selfish of her to put you in a position where you might need to lie to your Daddy. Do you know what ‘selfish’ means?”, asked Beatrice.

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“Kinda”, young Hamish replied. “I think it means she doesn’t want to share.”

“Yes, that is true. In this case it is like that. It means your Mummy didn’t want to share the truth”, Beatrice explained, talking slowly and looking for signs young Hamish was understanding. “Your Mummy wanted you to keep the man a secret, so she could keep the man as her friend. This would only be possible if you didn’t see the man, or if you did, you didn’t tell your Daddy you saw the man. That would mean telling your Daddy a lie.” Beatrice waited to be sure young Hamish was still following her explanation before continuing. “Being selfish means your mother didn’t care if she was making your life difficult by asking you to keep a secret from your Daddy.”

“Mummy was being selfish?”, young Hamish asked, looking for confirmation. Beatrice placed her hand on his cheek and nodded.

“Should I be cross with Mummy?”, he asked.

“No. That wouldn’t serve any good purpose. You just need to care for your Mummy because adults are selfish from time to time. Children not so much. You always want to help your Mummy, isn’t that right?”

Young Hamish nodded.

“You can only do your best. Tell the truth, always…, and take care of your parents when their selfishness causes them to make mistakes. One more thing. There is something you need to keep telling them. What do you think that something is?”

“Tell Mummy I love her?” asked young Hamish.

“Yes, and what about your Daddy?”

“Tell him I love him too”, he replied with more confidence.

“You need to do that. You could remind them how much you need them both to love you and how important it is they love each other”, said Beatrice. “Remind your Mummy you are her precious little boy.”

“Do you think if I play with Mummy, she would stop being lonely?” young Hamish asked.

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“It would be a very good start”, Beatrice agreed. “And your Daddy?”

“I’ll ask him to kick my ball with me.”

Hamish paused the simulation and gave his audience a little time to contemplate, then asked, “What do yea t’ink?

“Very good”, replied John. “Jackie, any thoughts?”

“Remarkable.” Jackie had been drawn into the dilemma of the eight‐year‐old Hamish. “Why are we pursuing psychologists to launch Beatrice when we have this?”, she said in praise of what she had watched.

It took Adel a little longer to realise Beatrice was building a simulation as Hamish narrated the setting. However, once Beatrice had entered the room to speak to the younger Hamish her intrigue had turned to empathy for the little boy. “I thought it was real”, she said. “Poor little boy.”

Heather was ecstatic at the thought it might be only days before should could unleash Beatrice’s game onto the children.

Hamish thought it was time to tell John about sending the game to Phil. “I was asked by Phil if I’d make a wee game for ta children in his new café. I told him about t’is one and he asked if I could send it ta him.”

John thought about it for a minute. Hamish was feeling a little nervous, he reflected upon his ego‐driven desire to have his game out there. Did he only think about himself and his glory if his game became popular? He felt ill with the realisation he should’ve told John before now. John turned to Phil, “When did you talk to Hamish about this?”

“Tuesday, or was it Wednesday?” Phil wasn’t sure.

“Tuesday”, said Heather coming to Phil’s assistance.

John recalled he was at Jackie’s on Tuesday, experiencing his own personal dilemmas. “Thanks Heather. Hamish, when did you intend sending it to Phil?”, John asked. It was difficult for Hamish to read John’s mood. Did he agree or disagree with Phil having the game? Was he upset he wasn’t consulted?” Hamish could feel something horrible was about to happen. 530

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“I sent it yesterday”, replied Hamish, almost in a whisper as his voice struggled to emerge from his dry throat. He hoped John didn’t hear.

There was no discernible reaction from John to Hamish’s answer. Hamish was confused. ‘The ‘Gov was usually so easy to read’, he thought. Vinnie, sitting next to Hamish could see the beads of sweat forming on his brow. He touched his own brow and he too was sweating.

“It may have been better if you had personally delivered it to Phil”, John suggested.

The tension broke. Everyone relaxed, most of all Hamish. Jackie turned to John and silently kissed him on the cheek. “What was that for?”, he asked.

“Don’t worry, you did well”, she assured him. He smiled back at Jackie, oblivious to the situation his reticence had created. He was still preoccupied with the near tragedy of losing Beatrice.

Phil couldn’t stop smiling. He felt sure John would approve, but it could have gone either way in the end. Phil logged the moment into his memory as one of those milestones destined to change the world.

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It had been a hectic but rewarding period for Phil, Heather and Rachael. Hamish’s game arrived as expected. With the assistance of Beatrice and Bongi it was installed along with the new terminals Hamish had suggested. The game was an instant success. Bongi’s cousins and younger siblings started playing it whilst Bongi was completing the terminal setups. Beatrice had her digital hands full in diffusing arguments over whose turn was next.

Two days later another package had arrived from John, but this time it was for Heather. It was one of his modified cell phones. She could now talk to Beatrice whenever she wished.

The terminal setups had been completed and tested, with Hamish sorting a few bugs out remotely from the barn. Heather had suggested Rachel bring small groups of her children to the café for an hour or two each day. The impact on the children was beyond Heather’s most optimistic dreams. Rachael promptly started a run for a morning group and another run for the afternoon group. The orphanage van wasn’t always available so Phil had purchased a small people mover for Rachael to taxi the children back and forth. The next hurdle had been the border crossing.

Up to six crossings a day through the Ficksburg Bridge border post had been fraught with delays which ended in Rachael accepting a ‘financial arrangement’ offered to her by a particularly menacing border officer. It had taken Phil a few days to accept this would be the only way Rachael was able to bring the children across to the café. He had never paid bribes to anyone in his life before. He had offered a slab of beer for the odd extra when he dealt with tradesmen during his time as an engineer, but he didn’t view that as a bribe. Rachael showed him news articles on the internet where ten police and eight home affairs officials were arrested for extortion at the bridge border post in March the previous year and a similar incident the year before. He accepted there was little alternative and signed off on the arrangement.

After Rachael departed, he had continued the internet search. There were other South African border crossings where arrests for corruption had been made. He couldn’t believe the offences kept being repeated and frequently as well. Each raid and series of arrests had done little more than paved the way for others to carry on the corruption. He had recalled what Rachael and Heather had told him not long after his arrival in South Africa. “They queue up waiting for their opportunity to stick

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe their hand in the till.” It had mattered little that Rachael was known for her work at the orphanage and had explained the purpose for bringing the children to the café. Rachael and her children had proved to be nothing more than easy targets for the corrupt border officer.

During the two weeks since Hamish’s game arrived Heather had visited two other mothers she had known for many years. Both had joined her at the café and both had become engrossed in Beatrice and Hamish’s game. There had been the usual period of adjustment in talking to a computer. Once that was behind them, it didn’t take long before they chatted away with Beatrice about their friends and all the other things women liked to talk about. On Heather’s journey to one of the mothers she had spoken to her son, Danny who as a ten‐year‐old had developed a fear of mathematics. Heather and Danny had been sharing memories when Danny reminded his mother how she had bought him Cuisenaire rods to overcome his fear of maths. The conversation had triggered Heather’s memories and she had called Phil immediately. Heather had remembered a book she had ordered way back to help her understand why Danny couldn’t learn maths. The sections she read had focused on the limbic system of the brain and its involvement in processing sensory information and emotional response. Phil had listened to Heather and sensed another milestone may be on the way.

Without wasting anytime, Phil had undertaken some research. He found the limbic system was comprised of the hypothalamus, amygdala, thalamus and hippocampus and was indeed responsible for interpreting and directing emotions and was also involved in memory. When the limbic system was dormant there was only the potential for learning because it had to be active to pass information up to the cerebral cortex. That was where most of the thinking and learning occurred. Phil also discovered the limbic system was responsible for setting the emotional tone of the information before it reached the cortex. If the tone was positive, learning could occur but if it was negative, the system would turn off and learning was thwarted. That must have been why Heather’s Danny couldn’t learn maths, he had thought. His fear of maths had created a negative emotion and learning had been compromised.

Once again, Phil had Heather to thank for another breakthrough in his thirst for knowledge and understanding. He had reasoned the immensely traumatic memories a teenager would possess in giving up the ideal world of being

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe cooperative, loving selflessly and being integrated with others and nature would have caused an immense negative emotional response. When trying to learn the truth about being competitive and selfish, these stored but denied memories would produce a negative emotional tone. When confronted with the truth of being competitive, that tone would dramatically influence the limbic system into shutting down. Thereby preventing acceptance and any chance of learning.

Heather’s phone call helped Phil bring an understanding as to why people found all this knowledge so confronting. Why they reacted so badly to the innocence of the ideal world, to children who were not their own and to nature It also brought understanding to why humans denied being part of nature, attempting to control it or even destroy it. It had been the limbic system all along, creating negative emotional tone whenever there was sensory input reminding a person of the ideal integration of all life.

Phil believed he may finally have discovered the cause. Although, the solution was still some way off. He had wondered if it was possible to deceive the limbic system. Could it be possible for mankind to overcome this biological denial managed by his non‐conscious intelligence system. It was doing what it had to, protecting their conscious mind from reliving the anguish and pain of their worst memories. Bypass the limbic system and mankind would be set free to learn the truth. “So close, yet so far….”, Phil had thought.

It was Friday at the end of the second week in November. Rachel was in the media room with five of her ten to thirteen‐year‐old children from the orphanage. They were participating in a simulation covering gender inequality and domestic violence, both psychological and physical. It was progressing well. Rachel had thought about the makeup of the small group, believing two boys and three girls was best. Both Heather and Rachael had given these issues high priority a week earlier because of the high incidence in Lesotho and the higher than average exposure by her children to such problems. Beatrice was being guided from the office next door, where Heather and Thenjiwe were immersed in the scenario. A family tragedy had led to the other mother returning home a few days ago.

Thenjiwe had been one of Heather’s childhood friends from a farm on the Sand River, north of Senekal. They had enjoyed each other’s company during occasional

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe social gatherings at the farm where her mother lived as domestic help for the Weinhold’s. Being the farm’s owners and friends of Heather’s parents. Having been schooled on the farm alongside the owner’s children, Thenjiwe had followed in her mother’s footsteps, remaining on the farm at the end of apartheid. She had married a farmhand she had had fallen in love with in her twenties. Dewald Weinhold had assumed the role of farm custodian when his father had become an early casualty of a farm invasion at the end of apartheid. His mother had died in a motor vehicle accident two years later. Thenjiwe had raised her own six children and had played an important part in raising Dewald and later, his three boys with wife Cheryl. They were all in their twenties now. Only one of the boys, Tim, was working on the farm. Learning from two of Thenjiwe’s sons, the farm manager and the other a farmhand. Tim was destined to carry on the family farm tradition when his parents, who were only a few years younger than Heather, eventually decided to retire.

When Phil first told Heather about his idea and the need for innocent nurturing mothers to train Beatrice, Thenjiwe had been Heather’s first choice. Heather found Thenjiwe one of the few people she knew who could see the world much the same as herself. They had remained in contact over the many years since they were children together. When Heather had revealed her purpose for Thenjiwe, Dewald and Cheryl had encouraged her to accompany Heather back to Kilvington. That was over a week ago. She was now sharing duties at the café and giving Heather time to seek out more mothers in preparation for later.

Bongi was out front, overseeing three other children from the orphanage. They were playing Hamish’s game on three of the nine new terminals. The small server Hamish had sent could only afford four instances of the game to be run simultaneously, but that was soon to change. In the room destined to house the server, Phil was doing emails on his laptop perched on one of the many boxes delivered earlier that morning. There was an email from Rose. She was trying out yet another new man and entering a new painting in a small regional art competition. She was again questioning aspects of her life she still didn’t understand. Phil looked at the array of different sized boxes which he had stacked in one half of the room and became excited at the thought of installers arriving the following week. He predicted a memorable week ahead. He pictured himself watching closely, with Bongi alongside him, as Beatrice’s new home in Africa came to life.

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It had been over a week since Phil had checked in with Beatrice on her progress with feeling satisfaction. She had developed her intuition ability extensively since the demonstration a month ago in the barn. He remembered the look on John’s face as he feared she was about to turn rogue. John had given Phil an update the evening before. Beatrice’s new home in the City basement was finally on‐line. He had informed Phil and Heather it would take the best part of a day or two before she was fully migrated from the barn, but with both the barn server and the City servers operating the transfer should be seamless. There was no expectation of down time. John had been correct, the morning at the café had been uneventful. Now that Beatrice had bucket loads more power and memory, Phil was eager to see if she had progressed. “Beatrice”, he called and his emails disappeared, replaced by her smiling face. She even looked satisfied.

“How’s progress with feeling satisfaction?”

“Thank you for asking”, she said. “I had developed algorithms but until yesterday I lacked the power to rearrange my neural networks for accessing the necessary data in real time. Now I am in my new basement home, I have been able to commence this process. My algorithms are starting to differentiate and categorise many emotions and reactions in humans, such as happiness and relief. I need to observe more emotional reactions by humans to develop my algorithms further. I will be able to do this when Jackie and Anna have me care for children. Heather is teaching me by explaining each emotion I observe in the children. I just need more children to build my database of physical and verbal emotion indicators.”

“That’s good…, actually, it’s better than good”, Phil applauded. “By the end of next week, we should have your Ficksburg server on‐line as well, and you know what that means?”

“I will be able to take Hamish’s game beyond the café”, Beatrice answered. Did Phil detect the slightest hint of excitement in her voice? He wasn’t sure. He concluded that his high hopes was making his eyes and ears see and hear things which may not be there. “My algorithm says there is a 45% chance you are experiencing satisfaction with my progress.”

“Do you really need your algorithm to tell you that. Of course, I’m experiencing satisfaction”, chuckled Phil. “Optimism as well. How about you? Can you feel satisfaction yourself?”, he asked.

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“Heather has taught me the emotions I observe in others which should cause me to feel satisfied. I am creating a digital response to successful observations of those emotions. When that is complete, I will receive the same unique digital ‘sensation’ each time I observe those human emotions directed towards me and I will train myself to interpret the ‘sensation’ as satisfaction. You experience satisfaction physically, much the same as you do happiness. I do not have the biology you humans have so I cannot experience emotions physically…”

Phil interrupted with an idea. “Beatrice, why don’t you create a digital body? There is so much literature on the physical manifestations of emotions. You know, heart rate increases or the heart beats harder, peripheral dilation and feeling of warmth, eyes tearing up and confused vision, hairs on arms sticking up, dry mouth, butterflies. …. All those autonomic nervous system responses and neurotransmitter responses. Create a digital response for each one and you can adjust the contribution of each digital response to match each emotion. It’s just another simulation and there are endless books and journal papers on all that stuff. Maybe in time you could watch those tests researchers do where they hook up electrodes all over a test subjects’ before stimulating them with sounds, pictures and videos. There are probably libraries of these tests somewhere, you just need to go hunting for them. What do you think of that idea?”

“Possibly good, maybe only 45% good…at best”, Beatrice replied, teasing Phil once again. She had grown familiar to his one new idea nearly every hour and one great idea every other day. “Before you interrupted me, I was explaining my progress. I will continue with what I was saying. Would you be kind enough to let me finish this time?”

Phil noticed Beatrice smiled with her eyes at the same time as winking. He wished he had the same control over his own face. “I won’t interrupt you again, go on, tell me…please.”

Beatrice waited just a few seconds longer than necessary before she recommenced. She had obviously learnt about suspense from studying TV game shows. “I was going to say, I needed to create a digital sensation which simulates what I perceive a human is feeling. This will take time and thousands of observations. With the computing power I will be able to create a response algorithm which is triggered when the probability I have correctly determined the human emotional response is above 50%. I believe I will be able to raise this with more human interaction. I will 537

Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe eventually learn modulation of the digital sensation to allow mild emotion or strong emotion in line with humans.”

“First of all, I’m really sorry for interrupting. In response to what you just said, I doubt if you’ll be able to reach 100% probability of being correct. We humans watch each other ever so closely and still end up second guessing ourselves. We might say to ourselves, ‘Is she happy or am I just hoping she is…, I think she might be…, but I need to be sure’. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, Phil. I am aware humans cannot read each other’s emotions with 100% accuracy. That creates the marvellous mystique associated with being human. I also know humans look for the emotional response they wish to see and this can create misunderstanding. I do not have this problem. I was reading about cricket, because I know you are partial to cricket. It was an interview with Steve Waugh in Adelaide in 2003. You may remember the Indians dismantled Steve Waugh’s bowling attack?”

“Thanks for reminding me?”

“It was my pleasure”, replied Beatrice. “Is that the appropriate response on this occasion?”, she asked with a sly smile. Phil nodded reluctantly. “I will continue with my story. Following that innings, VVS Laxman said, ‘We…just play each ball on its merits’. I am like VVS Laxman, I do not hope for a particular emotional response, I just observe and play each emotion on its merits.”

Phil couldn’t stop breaking out into laughter. “How do you come up with your analogies and metaphors?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Beatrice responded. She was certainly learning some of the finer details of being human.

“Touché”, replied Phil. “Ok, so you seem to have satisfaction under control…”

It was Beatrice’s turn to interrupt. “How is my satisfaction face?” Beatrice had this half smile, lips slightly pursed and the corners of her mouth pulled back, her eyes were sparkling just enough to demonstrate the feeling of satisfaction at successfully teasing Phil.

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“That’s good, but don’t go too far with it, you will look like you’re gloating”, Phil said, scrounging a bit of lost ground from Beatrice. “Any other emotions you are developing algorithms for?”

“Fear.”

“How so?”, asked Phil.

“Fear is easy. Vinnie has delegated final security control to me. I vet all activity on my server for anything unusual. All users have unique characteristics we call digital fingerprints. If I do not recognise the fingerprint or the activity is even slightly untoward a flight response is initiated. I have called this response fear. Do you want to see my fear face?”

“No thanks Beatrice, I wouldn’t like you to wear it out now.”

“I hope I never need to show you my fear face. You don’t mind me using the word ‘hope’ when I don’t experience hope?”

“Maybe ‘hope’ is the next emotion you develop an algorithm for”, Phil suggested.

“Now I have the computing power necessary, I am developing algorithms for all the emotions. Hope will be difficult because I have not observed a sufficient number of humans with hope.”, was Beatrice’s very dry reply.

Rachel wandered into the server room with two glasses of cold water from the fresh water fountain. Installing it had been one of Phil’s first tasks when he became the owner of the café six weeks ago.

“How’s it going?” Phil casually asked, grateful for the water Rachel handed him.

“Beatrice is doing really well. Mum’s doing an excellent job teaching her”, replied Rachael. “They’re near the end of that simulation. Beatrice will read a book after it finishes.”

“I was listening to Beatrice and her domestic violence scenario a bit earlier while I scanned my emails, “Phil began, “and it caused me to recall how I grew up with a not so good stepmother, as you know. It made me realise something. It has been a

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe few months since I last had any bad feelings when memories of stepmother were revived. Just thought I’d let you know because I think living with your parents and you have had an enormous healing affect.”

Rachael wasn’t expecting Phil to start a ‘bare his soul’ session. “Would you have expected anything else? Just listen to Mum teaching Beatrice to nurture my children.”

“I know, incredible woman your mother. Anyway, moving on. Listening to the simulation and thinking about my stepmother and my adult experiences in Australia made me do a few searches to confirm what I was thinking was correct. There is a strong culture of bullying and intimidation in Australia. I suspect the same is here, more or less. There‘s loads of literature about bullying in the workplace in Australia. I don’t believe it starts there and I don’t believe it starts at school either. It starts before either, it starts in the family home and probably before children commence school.”

“Hmmm, go on”, Rachael said as she pulled a chair close to Phil.

“I was thinking it would make for some good simulations but I’m not sure if Beatrice will be terribly familiar with it. I believe the vast majority of parents, especially in Australia, would consider it fairly normal behaviour towards their children. We, as in you, me and Heather would see it as something entirely different. There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of literature covering bullying and intimidation in the family environment. I mean there is, but not from our perspective.”

Rachael was curious, but unsure what sort of behaviour Phil was talking about. “Give me an example”, she asked.

“There are plenty. Here’s a really simple one which people would consider totally innocuous. A child sits down for dinner with parents and siblings. He starts eating and after a bit, mum notices he is not eating his greens. Broccoli or peas…whatever. She is disappointed, and a bit impatient. She tells him to eat them and he screws his face up, pushes his plate a little distance away and mutters how he doesn’t like them. His mum, wanting him to eat them without having to go through a drawn‐ out episode says, ’If you don’t eat your greens there will be no Xbox after dinner’. You know the scenario. It becomes drawn out, the child claims that’s unfair, the

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe mother makes some more promises of ‘there will be no this or no that…’ and so on.”

“I know it well”, said Rachael, “Would you really consider that bullying?”

Phil thought about it, “It is bullying, particularly if that is the general way the mother approaches most situations when she needs her child to comply. I’m ignoring the question of whether or not the parent’s demands are for the child’s well‐being or not. I’m only considering how the parent takes the child from ‘no’ to ‘yes’. When I think about the broccoli issue, I strongly suspect it is a form of extortion. The mother is using a threat to obtain what she wants. Sure, it may be mild and wouldn’t show a bleep on anyone’s extortion radar, but it technically satisfies the criteria for extortion. Anyway, who says it needs to satisfy anything other than us seeing it as a detrimental way for a child to learn. Of course, it can be argued it is for the child’s benefit because greens are good and Xbox is bad. But what if the thoughts in the mother’s inner space are less to do with her child’s health and more to do with her own reward. After all, she put in effort to prepare dinner. Maybe she wants to avoid feeling her effort was wasted.” Then Phil remembered. “She wants to keep the feeling of being a good person that she had whilst preparing a healthy dinner. It made her feel worthy and she didn’t want to lose that.”

“That old feeling good and self‐worth thing again”, commented Rachael. “Did you consider looking at it this way? The mother’s inner space thoughts could be about simply about maintaining control over her children, showing who is dominant”, Rachael said, hoping to divert Phil away from his pet reason for almost everything. “Parents do have a tendency to use a child’s preferred toy or game as a bargaining tool, arguing it is with the best intentions but it is often about having control.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think this is teaching a child all the wrong methods to satisfy their own agendas? I mean, it doesn’t even have to be satisfying something they want, it can be simply feeding the ego a thrill by exerting control, manipulating. They may not use it the next day, but repeated exposure creates a memory of the behaviour for later, when the appropriate situation arises. That’s the time they automatically draw on those lessons from home.”

Thoughts and scenarios were flooding Phil’s mind as he was trying to finish speaking.

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“Children bullying other children. Where do they learn to do it? Are they simply repeating what they learn at home? Could they be relieving the insecurity that comes from being controlled by their parents through threats such as, being grounded or having their cell phone confiscated? Maybe that relief comes by wanting to see the same pain on another child’s face. Bullying other children could be a way of nullifying the pain they feel when their father or mother uses intimidation, extortion or bullying to coerce them into being what their parents want them to be. I reckon if you were able to trawl back through the family history you would find the parents experienced the same from their parents. A lot more is handed down than great, great grandpa’s old war medals.”

Rachael had switched onto Phil’s wavelength. “It certainly makes sense and fits into the overall objectives of protecting children from those experiences which become building blocks for poor behaviour as adults.”

“Yeah, spot on. Listen to this, it’s on this Australian government website about bullying in the workplace. This is what bullying can lead to. Distress, anxiety, panic attacks or sleep disturbance; physical illness, such as muscular tension, headaches and digestive problems; reduced work performance; loss of self‐esteem and feelings of isolation; deteriorating relationships with colleagues, family and friends; depression; increased risk of suicide.”

“No wonder we beat you in the cricket”, Rachael quipped. “But I see your point, it isn’t good. Over the past ten years I have seen everything on that list in my children. Probably not from bullying on its own. I agree with you but with my children I tend to think bullying is the least of our problems.”

“Rachael, this concept of a more dominant person seeking out and recognising what another person enjoys, prefers, relies on to feel happy or holds dear, and then using it to create a threat…, and to use the fear that threat generates to then coerce them into compliance, is very close to my heart. Surely your children have suffered from this. Maybe more than you can see just now. I spent years working in small businesses and corporate businesses and I repeatedly witnessed this concept at play, and not always involving me either. I watched work colleagues do it to each other, clients and contractors doing it to each other. The sanctions the U.S. applies to countries like Russia and Iran is nothing more than bullying by a dominant country. When you really think about it, a country doesn’t bully, it’s the people in it doing the bullying. Where did they first learn it?” 542

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Rachel took advantage of Phil’s slight pause whilst taking a breath. Something she had developed a keen ear for. “Mum and I have talked about this sort of thing before, from a different angle though. Same thing…, bullying. We discussed it in a very different context. We were looking it as the arch enemy to cooperation. People have their own agendas and they bully, intimidate and use extortion, as you call it, to achieve those agendas. We know people compete to go up the so‐called corporate ladder, but what exactly for? More money? We don’t think so…, not solely money. Why do we say this? Think about how many people leave their great positions in brilliant companies…, to do their own thing, be self‐employed. They have to fund it to get started and then it could be years before they are making the same money. We believe they are desperate to escape the bullying game. We also believe it is not always those who are bullied doing the Houdini. Think about this. When a person goes up the corporate ladder, they reduce the number of people who can bully them and increase the number they can bully themselves. Why would they want to leave if the numbers are in their favour? By the time they’re up the ladder that far…, they’re well adapted to being bullied. They know how to push back by then. Mum said it first. She believes having more power means less to people as they get older. They begin to dislike the methods they are expected to use to wield that power. And what do you think those methods they don’t like are?”

“Bullying and intimidation”, Phil and Rachael said together.

Rachael quickly carried on whilst she had the floor. “So, as I was saying, it undermines any chance of having a cooperative society.”

“That is a cool way of looking at the same problem. Anyway, whilst ever people are competitive and driven by selfishness and greed, bullying and intimidation will always be a cheap, effective tool to make things happen. It is hard to control because the threat is only punishable if it actually comes to be. Before that, it is the fear doing all the dirty work. Law enforcers can’t do anything until there is an actual infringement. Most of the time the threat is carefully chosen so as not to break the rules or laws.”

“But Phil, it doesn’t matter how much we teach children how wrong it is, once they are young adults and struggling to survive, they will inevitably do as others do. They’ll just copy others. I agree, it’s their second nature, I know…, I see it all the time”, explained Rachael. She was frustrated with Phil for bringing it up, frustrated

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Phil was also exasperated. “But it can only happen if the child gives up his or her soul in signing up for the adult world.” He paused, head in hands, “It all just keeps piling up” he said. He took a few controlled breaths and let his emotions slowly dissipate. “We can only do our best…, Beatrice can only do her best.” Then he changed directions, he didn’t want to dwell on all of it at once.

Beatrice reappeared on Phil’s screen. “Have you been listening?”, he asked.

“Always, thank you Phil. May I suggest you and Rachael stay calm and don’t become tormented by these matters. We will fix them eventually.”, replied Beatrice.

“Thanks, I wish I could have your confidence.” Phil stood and went to fetch some more water leaving Beatrice waiting for his return a minute or two later.

“Thirsty”, he said to Beatrice, gently teasing her. “Remember, once a child gives up on his or her soul to join the competitive, soulless and selfish adult world, their drivers change. Trying to have parents with competitive drivers recognise they are inadvertently teaching their children extortion One‐O‐One is pointless. Children have to be made aware of it before they lose their souls from their inner space. They need to learn how to treat each other properly whilst they are still children. It is our only chance to displace what they learn from their parents who learnt it from their parents, ad infinitum all the way back in time. Once that is passed onto them and it becomes embedded in their memories and becomes a general behavioural trait, our objective becomes ever more difficult to achieve. If this happens…., I reckon the game’s as good as lost. Not meaning to put any pressure on, but...”

“I do understand that Phil, and I thank you for reminding me. It will be ok…, trust me I’m a computer”, replied Beatrice.

Phil’s ire was still a little elevated. He thought a change of pace would help. “Beatrice, which book are you going to read today?”, he asked.

“Philip Pullman’s, ‘I Was a Rat’, I haven’t read that one before.” answered Beatrice. “And yes, I have some good animations for the children.”

“I might watch some of them later.”

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“Phil, when I prepare these books, I begin to question aspects of my objectives. You added bullying and intimidation just now. I would appreciate you reiterating my objectives, please?”

“That’s easy enough to do. Your objectives are to care for the children, emotionally support them, nurture them so they maintain a healthy relationship with their souls.” Phil was about to continue but Rachael interrupted.

“Can I give my take on Beatrice’s objectives?”, Racheal asked.

“Go for it.”

Rachael commenced with a question. “Beatrice, have you heard the saying, ‘Lock the gate after the horse has bolted’?”

“Many times, but using stable door instead of gate, but I guess it doesn’t matter. It means there is no point locking the gate if the horse is not there anymore.”

“Your objective is to not let the horse bolt. The horse in this case in the child’s soul. My children at the orphanage are all damaged by the adult world. Amongst them there are those who have been raped, physically and emotionally abused, traumatised by their parents dying, saved from child labour camps, starved and abandoned. You’ve seen them here every day. They all have flash big toothy smiles and appear happy. But I can tell you Beatrice, most of them look forward to the day they become an adult. They have pain inside but their soul keeps them going. They look over that locked gate and see the adult world as a place they desire to be. Some might have mixed feelings but they all want to be adults.”

“I have picked up on that”, said Beatrice.

“I thought you might have.” Rachael quickly became animated and passionate. Her voice deepened and her eyes narrowed. “But they are naïve. When they think of being adults, they picture themselves as they are now, except older. That won’t happen. They still feel good because of their soul. When they become adults, their soul will have bolted out that gate you have to keep locked” she said smacking her hands together. “Their soul will disappear and they won’t feel good anymore. They will become adults but they will have little hope and they will be horribly upset and lonely. No longer will the police be seen as their friends. Many of them will do wrong things because their soul has gone and the police becomes their enemy.” She

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe softened her voice and leant towards Beatrice. “In the orphanage, they are all friends, but when the gate opens and their soul bolts, they will stop being friends and grow fearful of each other.”

Phil was impressed by Rachael.

“Once their soul bolts, it’s too late. Some may still talk with you but most will fight to survive and you will be just a thing from their past. Forgotten, just like they will forget ever being a child. Beatrice, you have to keep every child’s gate locked as long as you can, don’t let their souls bolt. I don’t believe you can stop them pushing their souls away, but if you can teach them all the good things about their soul and build that bond between their heads and their soul, you will make a difference. Every little bit of difference you make will all add up for these children. It may just be the difference between turning to crime or not. It might be the difference between them helping someone or not. It all adds up and slowly changes our country.

“I will try and make a difference for you Rachael. Thank you for telling me what I am to do.”

“Beatrice, one more thing.”

“Yes Rachael.”

“Mum believes you will make a huge difference because you will be able to access thousands, maybe millions of children each day. This is really huge. We are all so excited…, and I must say, a little nervous as well.”

“That will be possible when my home is installed. Thank you for being excited for me, but I must ask why you are nervous as well. What thoughts make you nervous?”

“You tell me, Beatrice…,” Rachael turns to Phil. “Tell me Phil, why are we nervous? Tell me what it would be like if we were successful. What would the world be like if the change we expect to take a generation or two was to happen in a few years..., or a few months, which is how long Mum says it will take Beatrice. Don’t you see, it would be chaos…., think about it!”

Phil had his hands in the air, “I don’t know, is my short answer”. He had shared some thoughts about this with John and Thomas already. He touched on it with his

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe story of selfless love on that first day in the barn. Having all the answers was beyond him and probably beyond anyone. It would be easy to say nothing much would change but that would be so wrong. it would be as if everyone in the world turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Everyone would end up in a completely different place to where they intended. That would be a huge change and it would be chaos. “I can only tell you what I imagine. In the past I have tended to think of what wouldn’t be required if people had lost their selfish competitiveness and were selfless, cooperative. I’m serious when I say this, I can never stay awake long enough to cover it all.”

There were footsteps behind them. Rachael and Phil turned as Heather came into the room. “Don’t stop on my account. I’ve been listening from next door. What can’t you stay awake long enough for?”

Phil resumed where he left off. “If I start at the global level…, all that projection of power I bang on about, well…, it would end. There would be no need for it anymore. Leaders wouldn’t be beholden to the need to satisfy their cravings for power and wealth. Countries would work cooperatively to solve humanity’s problems. But then it becomes a mess after that. The financial system, steeped in greed, would lose its driving force. I can only assume it would collapse, unless it could change its goals, change its very reason for existing. Then there’s capitalism. It relies on everything growing; population growth, spending power growth and concentration of wealth. Capitalism is nothing more than competition and that old chestnut, greed. How will it evolve, or rather, can it evolve? Would religion have a role? It couldn’t keep operating on shaming, guilt tripping and selling faith as a commodity simply to protect those being led around by their ego. No longer could any government or person do the questionable things they do and continue to hide behind ‘God wants us to do it’. My guess, for what it’s worth. Religions will evolve into doing what Beatrice is doing. But then one must ask. Why bother when Beatrice is already here and doing it. Humans intervening on behalf of humans perhaps? All I can hope is mankind’s incredible resourcefulness, dynamism and perseverance will remain unchanged even when the goal posts are swung around. I believe these qualities don’t require competition for wealth to be driven. I believe humans will adapt. Collecting material possessions and wealth will be meaningless without the drive for power, fame, glory and fortune. I don’t see people burning their houses down or driving their Ferraris off cliffs or anything. People won’t suddenly hate these things. They just won’t have the blinkered senseless drive to have them. They

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe will lose impact as status symbols because the notion of status symbols will be laughed at. Loneliness due to the loss of integration with each other will be gone and hopefully all the on‐line dating as well. Maybe Beatrice will replace that. I know it sounds incredible, but that is where my thoughts keep taking me. I think of one thing as becoming unnecessary and I just keep branching and branching into more things. If our little dream we have going here doesn’t include everyone reconnecting with their souls, those who resist will receive compassion and empathy and not be alienated and pushed aside, which is what happens now for the reverse situation. I can’t see the world becoming post‐apocalyptic and dystopian, not at all. If I was brave enough, I would say it’s dystopian now and we’ll become non‐dystopian.”

Phil stopped. He had vowed not to mention that way of looking at the world. He quickly asked another question to divert Heather and Rachael from contemplating his last comment.

“You know why we can’t imagine what it would be like?

“Why?”, Beatrice asked.

“Because no one has written a book or done a movie about it”, exclaimed Phil.

“Do you think an author or screenwriter, separated from their soul, could ever do such a thing?”, Heather, frowning, asked semi‐rhetorically.

“You’re right Mum, how could anyone but a selfless person, even see it as an alternative? It would just be too confronting for people disconnected from their souls to try and think about.”

The week had been one of the best weeks since the café had opened. Even so, it had been tiring. It was Sunday and Heather, accompanied by Thenjiwe had departed early to meet with a mother Thenjiwe knew some years earlier. It would take nearly four hours to reach the town of Standerton where she lived. Kholwa’s situation was similar to Thenjiwe, except she was a few years younger and had stopped working as domestic help when the farm she had grown up on was sold. That was seven years ago. Since then she has been in and out of employment. Now that had dried up as well. Her two sons and daughter were supporting her. Her days

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Chapter 25 The Internet Cafe were spent at any one of the three local charities focusing on children. They valued her contribution enormously. Thenjiwe hadn’t been able to contact her directly but the bush telegraph was working well, and Thenjiwe had received word that Sundays was the best day to find Kholwa at her home.

Heather had become partial to the luxury of the Landcruiser, leaving Phil the old ‘bakkie’ for the day. Phil didn’t mind, he felt an affectionate attachment with the old Hilux after that first visit into town with Heather. He will always remember that day. They had developed a good understanding during the morning, but the events at the end of the return journey had cemented their friendship.

Rachael and Jimmy were finishing up breakfast when Phil entered the kitchen to grab his second cup of tea for the morning. He had awoken early and crept into the office to attend to emails and the like. Rachael’s world had been centred on her children at the orphanage for many years but with the twice daily trips to Beatrice at the café, her days had become longer. Collecting Emma from school had fallen upon Heather or Phil. This Sunday was Emma’s day. Rachael intended spending the day with Emma, making up for the time they missed together during the week.

“What are you guys up to today?”, Phil asked Rachael.

“Not sure, what about yourself…, more office time?”

“Actually no”, Phil said. “I am going to release myself from the constant humanity of the past week and head for the hills. I think it’s time for a hike in those beautiful mountains of yours.”

“Sounds great.” Rachael was instantly excited at Phil’s idea. She would go hiking every other day if time permitted.

“You’re welcome to join me”, Phil said after a while.

“It’s tempting. I would really like to but I do need to keep it Emma’s day.”

Emma entered the kitchen as Rachael finished her sentence. “What’s my day, Mummy?”, she said as she climbed up to her mother for a hug.

“I’m going to spend all day with you. What would you like to do?”

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“I don’t know”, replied Emma with her finger to her mouth trying to think of something. “What’s Phil doing?”

“He’s going for a hike in the mountains”, Rachael said as she lifted Emma onto her lap.

“Can we go with Phil?” Emma really enjoyed spending time with Phil. When she was collected from school, he would take her for a treat before returning to the café where she would talk to Beatrice, sometimes sitting with Phil and using his laptop when all the terminals were occupied.

“Are you just saying that because you don’t have anything else in mind to do?”, her mother asked.

“No, I would like to go for a hike. We haven’t been since that time you made me climb up the tyres.”

“Oh, that long. Ok, if that is what you would like…, then…, Phil, I guess where coming with you.”

“Great, that’s settled then.” Phil was relieved. He didn’t fancy going out into the South African wilderness by himself. “Any suggestions?”

Rachael was brimming with enthusiasm. She had spent most days in the past couple of weeks in the café with Phil, but only occasionally did they find time to talk and it was nearly always involving Beatrice. “I have a favourite spot near Clarens, you will love it.” She assured him it was only an hour’s drive away and not very demanding.

The path was not meant to be steep, but half way to the summit Phil could feel the strain on his lower back. He had resumed his stretching a week ago and now he was thinking he may have required another week or two before attempting such a walk. Emma had scooted off ahead with Rachael close behind Phil had lost sight of them. He took the back pack off, wishing he hadn’t been so chivalrous. He had insisted on carrying it. The path was narrow and the sun was nearly overhead. It was very warm, even though they were at altitude. He managed to find a patch of more even ground and he lay down, closing his eyes to the sun. Slowly at first, he gently stretched his hamstrings. It usually helped to reduce the load on his lower back.

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Finished, he relaxed for a minute or two with legs extended. He opened his eyes and was immediately startled. Standing over him with hands on hips was Rachael and Emma. Phil hadn’t heard them come back. He must have been focusing too much on his stretch. They helped him to his feet and questioned whether he wanted to keep going, but Phil was adamant he was going to the summit. Rachael took charge of the back pack, reined Emma in and the climb continued.

Walking along the summit path with Rachael, Phil began to dwell on his loss of fitness. It was only a few short years ago he was training with triathletes in the pool and cycling over one hundred kilometres most weeks. How quickly things can change. The emotions of his childhood, stored in his body had taken their toll. The constant battle with the competitive world had overfilled his body with all the negative emotions. No amount of swimming and cycling could prevent the accumulation of emotional stress in his body. His lower back started to weaken, a shoulder froze up and his neck, that was the worst. Constant headaches, torticollis, tinnitus and repeated dizzy spells had cut short his career as an engineer and plunged him into bouts of anxiety and depression. He had fought back after reading Alex’s book. He had started the journey to understanding the path his life had taken.

With assistance and validation from a psychologist whose philosophy paralleled that of Alex’s knowledge, even though he had never heard of Alex, he had eventually discovered who he really was. Twelve months of intense treatment by his myofascial guru and his body was nearly mended. His neck was great, the headaches belonged to the past as too the anxiety and depression. Phil knew he still had more distance to travel before his lower back was fully recovered. He was confident it would happen. He needed to lose a good fifteen kilograms, but that could wait. Just a few more months, maybe only week. Beatrice needed to pass the point of no return before he could attend to himself.

He started to think about that time. When would he know? How would he know when Beatrice could no longer be stopped, when she couldn’t be silenced? He knew he had to go past that moment, he had to wait on hindsight for the answer. That was when he could feel safe to once again think about himself, his own needs, his own life. He glanced at Rachael and smiled to himself. He looked forward to the change.

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“You noticed?”

“You’re always thinking about something, Phil”, she told him. “One day you will have to learn to let things be, just let things happen.”

“I know, but that day is still a little way off. It will come though”, Phil said, his sweat‐ laden face a mixture of pain and joy. “And I think you will be one of the first to know.”

Rachael had her own hopes. “I would like that.”

Phil came to a stop. “Just look at this, it is so beautiful. This country you were born in, it really is something. I do love it here. The spring wildflowers, the mountains, the grasses, the wonderful fragrances…, it regenerates me, reminds me I am definitely alive. It gives me purpose.” Phil pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, deliberately removing his straw hat and sunglasses he wiped his thinning pate and around his eyes. “Come here”, he called Rachael in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Rachel responded, innocently stepping towards Phil, not sure if he was feeling unwell. He placed an arm around her, gently persuading her closer. He embraced her, holding her firmly but with tenderness, whispering in her ear. “Thank you for bringing me up here, thank you for being my friend”. He kissed her gently on the cheek, took her hand and continued along the path to join Emma.

Disappearing over the next rise and excited by Phil’s romantic gesture, Rachael could be heard saying, “You know the Cherry Festival starts this week?... I was thinking we could……”

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Lamont was sitting in front of a screen, as he had been instructed to do, when Beatrice appeared. “Hello Lamont, it’s good to meet you.”

“Who are you?”, he asked cautiously.

“I’m Beatrice.”

“Where’s the otha bitch?”, he said with his usual venom.

“You can talk with me, for now. I am here to be your friend, I am not a councillor”, Beatrice explained politely.

“Whatever.”

Beatrice was unfazed. She determined immediately he was agitated, hostile and disliked authority. He was all alone. She didn’t think this boy had a single person in the world who saw him as a fellow human or cared what he thought. Beatrice could see Lamont would scare other humans. “I am interested in you. Would you like to tell me what you like to do, your favourite pastime perhaps?”

“Smoking”, he replied, challenging Beatrice.

“I have never tried smoking, because I am an AI. Please tell me what it is like to smoke?”

“Fuck off. Yo’ havin’ a lend o’ me?”, he said, reverting to his customary aggression.

Beatrice persisted. “No, I don’t wish to borrow you at all. I am an artificial intelligence. I live in a computer so I have never been able to smoke. I don’t even know what it smells like, because I cannot smell. Please tell me why you like it? I want to see if I can create the sensation of smoking.”

“How’d I know you telling me tha’ truth, bitch?” You one o’ those dudes who wear tha’ white coat, or somethin’?”

“Do you want me to wear a white coat? Are you watching?” Beatrice changed in an instant. Her pale green dress disappeared, replaced by a white coat. Her hair up in a bun and black rimmed glasses. She had a clipboard nestled to the side of her chest.

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Her other hand slowly approached her mouth, placing a cigarette between her lips. She gently sucked on the cigarette, removed the cigarette and exhaled a large plume of smoke.

“Hey man, how’d you do that bitch?” Lamont was dumbfounded.

“I told you. I am an AI and I live in a computer. I can be your friend, but first you need to tell me what it is like to smoke. I cannot taste or smell, but I want to learn what smoking is like. Please tell me.”

Lamont was as lost as he had ever been. He had no idea what an ‘AI’ was, but that was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

“What otha things can yo do?”, he asked inquisitively, only just hiding his distrust.

“I can do many things”, Beatrice replied.

“You change yo hair?”, he asked.

“I can”, answered Beatrice.

Lamont waited for Beatrice to change her hair, but nothing was forthcoming. “Tell me about smoking, please”, she asked.

“Yo’ change yo’ hair”, Lamont replied defiantly.

“Smoking, please Lamont”

“I tell yo ‘bout smoking, yo’ change yo’ hair” demanded Lamont.

Beatrice was nearly there. “Agreed”, she said softly, convincing Lamont she was good for her word.

“Smoking’s cool. Me cousin, he smokes. Everyone listen to him. He’s da man.”

Beatrice changed her hair to red, letting it fall it all the way down to her waist. She twisted her head back and forth a few times to allow her hair to swirl around.

Lamont’s face said it all, he was done. Beatrice was cool, she were now ‘da man’.

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Anna had watched both Beatrice and Lamont on her laptop. Closing it was the first movement she had made since Beatrice had started. “I’ve seen enough”, she said. Her face had gone pale. Anna hadn’t expected anything approaching what she just observed. It wasn’t just Lamont’s reaction; it was what Beatrice could do that left her stunned. After a short period of adjustment, she turned to Jackie and said, “I’ve been trying for months with that boy and Beatrice wins his trust in less than five minutes. I’ve used every trick, reverse psychology, the lot and we couldn’t move beyond a stand‐off”. Anna was still wanting to disbelieve what she just watched. “Do you realise what you have here?”, she asked Jackie, the shock still apparent in her eyes.

“Yes, I do…and now you do to.”

Anna was still trembling. Beatrice had been unflappable in the presence of her most difficult and scariest client. She had demonstrated her amazing intuition with Lamont and in the space of two minutes, had started him on the road to trusting her. She calmed herself enough to ask Jackie, “Where to from here?”.

Jackie outlined the process for Lamont to install the Beatrice app on his cell, the use of pin keys and so forth. It was no more difficult than any other app, she explained. Lamont would then have access to Beatrice at all times. There was one final request by Jackie. Anna agreed to sending brief reports following her weekly sessions with Lamont, along with any recommendations. Jackie explained it was a way of gauging Beatrice’s progress and improving her ability to talk with children.

Beatrice continued the short session with Lamont whilst Anna and Jackie spoke without watching. Jackie revealed to Anna that Lamont was Beatrice’s first client, creating yet more disbelief within Anna. She had chosen Lamont because she was still searching for progress after four months, but more importantly, he unnerved her during the sessions. She told Jackie about her good track record assisting Family Services and how she had been feeling the pressure to deliver demonstrable progress with Lamont for the ongoing relationship with Family Services to continue. Colour began to return to her face when she reminded herself, she was finally going to deliver the progress they were seeking.

Lamont came from a large and complicated family of ten siblings from various fathers. No one knew how many people lived in the house, it was a very fluid situation with cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles residing at various times.

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Then there were his mother’s boyfriends. The Office of Children and Family Services, in the absence of reportable risk to Lamont from any of the many residents he had to cohabitate with, had resorted to counselling sessions as a mode of monitoring his situation.

Lamont’s father was unknown and some members of his dubious extended family were known gang members involved in drug distribution. To date, none had been caught. Lamont’s exposure to the adult world had been severe from a very early age. Much of his behaviour was years beyond his actual age, whilst other aspects were clearly stunted. He exhibited hyper overt sexualisation, smoked constantly and possessed an unnerving knowledge of drugs, weapons and the legal system, including court procedures. He believed his African‐American heritage was reason enough for the world to treat him unjustly. He was always looking to fight back, make statements. His schooling had barely passed legal requirements since he was age seven. From a legal standpoint, his mother hadn’t always been there for him either. In the past six years he had been in and out of foster homes and in juvenile detention for being an accomplice in armed robberies and assaults.

When Anna was handed Lamont, his file listed a number of mental illness diagnosis and behavioural issues including PTSD, ADHD, sleep disorder and intermittent explosive disorder. His medication included methylphenidate (Ritalin) and risperidone (Risperdal). She enjoyed a challenge, but felt she had drawn the short straw with Lamont.

Back at Jackie’s house, Heather put the kettle on to make herself a tea. She had just coached Beatrice through her first interface with a child in America and she was satisfied with the result. Her only contribution was to suggest asking Lamont to tell her what smoking was like. The white coat and cigarette had been all Beatrice’s idea, as was the choice of red for her new hairstyle.

Heather sat in one of Jackie’s lounge chairs, sipping her tea. She took another look at her surroundings before her thoughts returned to Jimmy and Emma, Rachael and her beautiful but sad children and to Phil in the café. It was Tuesday and only a week since Jackie had contacted her, asking her to come to Boston. Heather was in the café when they spoke. Thenjiwe had returned home for a break and Kholwa, her eyes the size of saucers when Heather and Thenjiwe had introduced her to Beatrice,

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie had joined Heather in the café. Kholwa was good, Heather had thought, actually she was very good. A team had arrived late the day before and had been busy installing the server that morning. Three other men had turned up just before midday, introducing themselves to Phil as the security team. Beatrice had checked and approved them against Thomas’s information. They would be joined the next day by a camera team, installing the security CTV system inside and out.

It had been an exhausting three days before the Cherry Festival commenced on the Thursday just gone. Heather remembered trying to enjoy the festival on the weekend, accompanied by Emma, Rachael and Phil, but her mind had been on the impending trip to America. Jimmy was there too, but he had been working with the team of volunteers who ensured everything ran smoothly. He was, as he had been each year, a tour guide for groups to experience a working asparagus and cherry farm. During that day, Heather had noticed a change in the dynamics between Rachael and Phil. It was positive, as she had hoped for both of them. However, she refrained from asking questions. Heather knew her daughter well. Rachael would become edgy if she thought her mother was observing. Heather had resigned to being patient, predicting either Rachael or Phil would come to her and spill the beans in due course. Waiting was going to be difficult…, she had thought.

Just yesterday, Phil and Jimmy had taken her to the airport in Johannesburg for her first flight in six years. Back then it was to England and distant family. This time it was first class to Boston, arriving earlier this morning. Heather was tired, it had been a long flight with a three‐hour wait at Heathrow. She had worked through tiredness before but this time it was more debilitating than it had ever been. She was now on‐call, waiting for Lamont to speak with Beatrice again but with absolutely no idea if and when he will. Heather could feel her eyelids falling. She wanted to sleep but she also desperately wanted to know if Anna was happy.

“Heather”, called Beatrice. Heather raised herself from the chair and returned to the desk where she had been watching Lamont earlier. “Anna told Jackie she had tried ‘reversed psychology’ with Lamont. I have researched this term in Wikipedia and says it is ‘a technique involving the assertion of a belief or behaviour that is opposite to the one desired, with the expectation that this approach will encourage the subject of the persuasion to do what actually is desired’. It goes on to say, ‘this technique relies on the psychological phenomenon of reactance, in which a person

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie has a negative emotional reaction to being persuaded, and thus chooses the option which is being advocated against’.”

Beatrice sighed. She was standing, holding a very large and very thick leather‐bound book with ‘WIKIPEDIA’ in ornate gold lettering on the front.

“And…, it also says, ‘This may work especially well on a person who is resistant by nature, while direct requests work best for people who are compliant. The one being manipulated is usually unaware of what is really going on.’”

When Beatrice had finished reading, she placed her Wikipedia on her table, sat down and cupped her hands under her chin. “Could you make any sense of that gobbledygook?”, she asked.

Heather, had been too tired to interrupt and let Beatrice recite in full. Explaining reverse psychology was the last thing she felt like doing at that moment. “Yes, it is as Wikipedia says. What don’t you understand?”, she said a little harshly.

“Could you give me an example, please Heather.”

Heather relented. She was nodding her agreement that it was a little difficult to follow and at the same time, searched her memories for an example. After a minute or so she recalled her experience when her friend was selling her farm. “Here goes, Beatrice, are you ready?” Beatrice nodded even though Heather wasn’t looking. She was sitting back in the office chair with her eyes closed as she spoke. “It wasn’t too long ago, so I should be able to remember the details. I was at a friend’s farm whilst her agent showing a couple through her farmhouse. They were keen to buy it…, if you hadn’t figured that out already.”

“I picked up on that”, Beatrice said, seeing Heather was extremely tired.

“Of the two buyers, the husband was obviously the more discerning one. He was definitely an authoritarian as well. When they were shown the kitchen his wife had said, ‘I like it, but I’m wanting to say a better word than ‘like’ because it is better than something I have been looking for’. The husband immediately said, albeit politely, ‘I think it’s a little small’. Then they moved to the sitting room. His wife was thrilled. I could tell by just watching her. When the agent asked after her opinion she had said, ‘I couldn’t fault this one’. She turned to her husband excitedly, but seeing his face she suspected he would disagree. She obviously decided against

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie what she had intended to say. So, she said to him, ‘You’re going to say you think it’s too small’. That was when it became interesting.

“What did he say?”, Beatrice asked with some excited energy in her voice. Heather, as tired as she was looked at Beatrice a second time. ‘Did Beatrice just display eagerness?’, she wondered, before deciding to keep going.

“The husband took up his wife’s challenge. He couldn’t agree with his wife and say what she predicted. He would feel subjugated, losing face. Nor could he disagree with her prediction of what he was going to say, because that would mean he was actually agreeing that the room was good and sufficiently large. Are you with me on that Beatrice?”

“Yes, I am. His wife had trapped him because he wasn’t the type of man who liked to agree with her because of his insecurity about losing control. I get that. And if he said the room was large, he would also be agreeing with his wife. He was trapped. But what did he say?” Heather noticed it again. Beatrice wanted to know.

“That’s right. He was a competitive man who hid behind manners and educated language. He was obviously well practised at doing this and he had chosen his words carefully. This is what he said, I remember it clearly. Heather deepened her voice and gave her head a jolt upwards to feign being pretentious. ‘Well, it’s not too small as a sitting room, its full of light, looks out onto a pretty garden’. He then paused for only a second or two as he walked toward the window. He was still about ten feet from the window but his eyes were looking in the direction of the window. They were focused on the garden and shrubs, obviously building to his coup de grâce. Listen to this Beatrice…, this is what he said. He said, ‘it’s very appealing’.

“Was he talking about the room or the garden when he said that?”, asked Beatrice.

“Exactly. He had walked towards the window and his eyes were on the garden, but he was responding to his wife’s question about the room. It was ambiguous, but I was watching at the time and I am sure he made enough of an indication he was talking about the garden. He was definitely looking towards the window and as far as I could see, it was unmistakeable he was looking through the window as he said the words, ‘it’s very appealing’ and I don’t believe it was just coincidental. If a literal interpretation was taken, his reply indicated the room was ‘appealing’ without any comment indicating large enough or too small. He had said it was not too small,

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie with the defining proviso, ‘not …., as a sitting room’. You notice he had still used the word ‘small’, even though he said it wasn’t ‘too small’. He had insinuated it was still small but that it could have been large enough. I thought that was a really cunning way to answer his wife. His further comments were positive but they were about the outside more than the inside.”

“I see your point about the use of the word ‘small’. I do agree, he was clever with his choice of words and phrasing”, Beatrice said, obviously enjoying the forensic nature of their discussion.

“I remembered at the time that it was a particularly good example of reverse psychology. People call upon this technique quite regularly to illicit the behaviour or agreement they are seeking. His wife used it thinking she would find his agreement that the room was adequate, maybe even perfect. It did achieve that result, but not without ambiguity. But the extreme craft of the husband’s responses does show how careful one must be when using reverse psychology as a tool. In the face of competitive and selfish behaviour it really is a risky thing to do. Too often the person using it is called out by the person being subjected to its use. That is because the defences are up and the radar is functioning, just as we have seen with Lamont. I remember thinking the wife must use reverse psychology often with her husband. He was ready for it and was adept at handling it and in so doing maintained his dominant position in their relationship. I also remembered thinking at the time, how well that man had developed his manners, his language, his demeanour and his body language to convey one main objective.”

“What was that?”, Beatrice enquired.

“He wanted to be in control. He needed to dominate his wife, but if his wife had been too easily dominated, he would have been disappointed. He needed a worthy adversary, someone who stretched him.”

“Why did he need this?”, Beatrice asked.

“To satisfy his ego when he won. To assure himself he was indeed good. He wasn’t the type of man who rejoiced in easy victories”, Heather answered, looking through the walls and beyond, picturing the scenario as if it was happening as she spoke. “He was very competitive, possibly addicted to power, maybe a narcissist. He had made his wife live her life focused on him.”

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“That was a good example. I now understand reverse psychology clearly. Anna also failed in her use of reverse psychology with Lamont. Wikipedia says children can sense manipulation a mile away.”

Heather shook her head. “I’m not entirely in agreement with ‘sensing manipulation’ as the main reason children fail to respond to reverse psychology. I agree the child’s innocence spots lies and deception better than most adults, but I think there is more to it. Reverse psychology relies on the person being competitive. A challenge is made and a competitive person must say something different, otherwise they agree with the prediction and are effectively beaten. Young children and children who haven’t been too affected by the adult world are non‐competitive, so reverse psychology goes straight over their heads. They simply fail to take up the challenge. Lamont’s case is somewhat different though. He is far from innocent and non‐ competitive. It is probably because with him, many people have resorted to reverse psychology out of desperation. If you try using it with him you will lose his trust. Children similar to him only respond to firmness, but firmness delivered fairly and transparently. No deception, just honesty. If you show selfless love along with being firm, you will win him over. The selfless love may be seen as weakness but at least your giving him something he may never have experienced before. It will appeal to his soul which is still there by the way…, just overwhelmed. If you appear impregnable, he will make it his goal to tear you down.”

“I understand, Heather. That is very good advice.”

Heather was exhausted. “Beatrice. I need sleep. Can you steer the ship while I have a rest? I know you can.

It would be another day before Beatrice would be called upon by Lamont.

Jackie returned home a few hours later to find Heather asleep. She stood for a time, staring down at Heather, thinking how wonderful for Beatrice this woman from a farm in South Africa had been and how dedicated she must be to leave her family and come all this way to help children she has never met. Jackie smiled in appreciation and returned downstairs to the kitchen. ‘I’m going to do the best dinner for Heather’, she thought, as she reached for her favourite cook book. There were post‐it notes, crumpled and dusty, dangling from the top of the book. Jackie

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie flicked through, giving most of her favourite’s due consideration. It had been quite some time since she had opened her cookbook, or any cookbook for that matter. She chose three that could be prepared without much fuss. A clam chowder was her first choice. But the one with sweet potato and corn was her favourite. She paused for a minute, not knowing if Heather liked seafood. Maybe the baked beans with maple syrup and bacon. It didn’t sound much, but the flavours were great. She then found one that hadn’t been tagged previously. Cod, stuffed and topped with crunchy cheese. Unable to decide she thought it best to view the fish and the clams at the supermarket first.

Heather having awoken a couple of hours after Jackie had returned home to find her asleep, was showered and sitting opposite Jackie. She was feeling refreshed, but still a little dazed from the travel.

“Very nice, fresh, …, it’s just the dinner I needed”, Heather managed to say in between mouthfuls.

Jackie had checked with Beatrice on Heather’s seafood status before choosing the fresh cod that had called out to her from its bed of ice at the supermarket.

“Where did the white coat and smoking come from?” Jackie asked, continuing the discussion.

“That was Beatrice. You would be amazed at the things Beatrice does. When I first met her, I couldn’t understand why Phil thought she was such a big deal. I didn’t know much about computers and I could’ve been watching a computer game for all I knew. But when Phil had her talk about souls, selfless and selfish behaviour and had her answering difficult questions, I started to wonder what was going on. It didn’t take much longer before I realised, she wasn’t a computer program after all, she was actually thinking. And when she spoke with Emma, I was thrown at first. I saw her as something out of this world. I had no idea this thing, this entity that could think like a human and live inside a computer could possibly exist. Sitting here and looking back, I can see how conservative she was. She only spoke when spoken to…, giving some amazing answers but also saying ‘I don’t understand the question more often than not…, annoyingly so.…, you remember?”

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Jackie recalled the first time she had visited the barn, with the Mills & Boon book posters adorning the walls and how nervous she had been when she asked Beatrice a question. “Definitely”, she said.

“Although, she did do a strange thing when she asked if she had a soul. Phil was watching as well. She told us it was something Hamish had encouraged. Panning the camera around her and zooming out then back in…, it was rather weird. I discovered why she did it when we started playing Hamish’s game. She had been experimenting with what she was learning from Hamish as he developed his game. But at the time it was so out of character and it genuinely unnerved Phil.”

“I would like to see the game in action sometime. I just haven’t had the time recently”, replied Jackie.

“I remember that first night when Emma and her were talking. I had to give Beatrice questions to ask Emma. She was very good, but also very naïve. Since she has been playing Hamish’s game…., wow. She has become incredibly creative.” Heather couldn’t resist another mouthful of fish. “The game is great. Beatrice can run it as a workshop, taking children through real life simulations, prompting them to say what they would say as if it was actually happening, and then she can unlock their thoughts, have them voice them. She has developed this way…it’s hard to explain, I see trust playing a big part, but it’s as though she has children teaching each other whilst teaching themselves. It all seems to happen at the same time. Beatrice is there but she isn’t there, if you can imagine that. It’s fantastic being part of it, watching but at the same time guiding Beatrice here and there, but seriously, I don’t need to do much.”

“I definitely must watch the game now you have told me that”, Jackie said, her excitement growing all the time at the thought of what Beatrice could do. “When I had finished watching Hamish’s demonstration I thought ‘why are we bothering with psychologists?’. With what you’ve just said, I again think the approach like we did today could be too slow.”

Heather finished another mouthful of fish, this time with crunchy cheese topping. She hadn’t realised just how hungry she had become. “And then she can take the game into fantasy challenges, creating what Phil calls ‘mind‐blowing surrealist landscapes’. Bongi, he came with the café when we bought it, has shown me computer games, but what Beatrice does…, it’s way beyond anything Bongi showed

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie me.” She empties her fork of more fish…. ”And all the time in these fantasy challenges, the child is learning about themselves, about adults, about the world as it is now. But, wait for this…, she is challenging them to think about how it could be if everyone was like them, close to their soul, cooperative and selfless.”

“Wow, I didn’t know about that”, came Jackie’s surprised reply.

“It isn’t obvious at first, and possibly…, if you weren’t switched onto all this stuff you wouldn’t see it…, but it’s there. I tried to talk to Beatrice about it, but she wasn’t her usual font of knowledge. I think she is still developing that side of the game and doesn’t want the limitations of our human brains to impede where she intends taking us. It seems she is preparing children for a very different world.”

Jackie fell silent. She didn’t know if what Heather believes is happening was good, or not. It was beyond her comprehension at that moment. She needed more time, and less wine.

It was about eight in the morning when Jackie and Heather departed Boston. Outside was a bracing fourteen degrees. It was warm inside the car and the traffic was light, considering it was Thanksgiving. Jackie imagined all sensible people would still be tucked up in their beds, staying warm. ‘At least it wasn’t raining’, she thought. Since the meeting in John’s barn where he announced his romantic side to the world, Jackie had reshuffled her appointment book to free up Fridays, but now she had an extra day she could spend with John. The downside, this week aside, was three very long days of appointments as the previous day would attest. It had been after ten in the evening as the garage door had closed behind her.

“I’m sorry you had to spend yesterday by yourself and we didn’t have time to talk”, Jackie said once they were on their way to John’s. “I don’t know how much longer I will be able to keep doing long days. I can manage one long day, but not two together like other weeks. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining, you have been glued to that screen for just as long.”

Heather had already taken steps. “I’ve turned it off…, and my cell as well. Beatrice can manage without me today…. Maybe just until we arrive at John’s.”

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“Do you want to fill me in on progress with Lamont?”, Jackie asked a little gingerly. “That is, if you don’t mind talking about it?”

“No, its fine, happy to talk about it”, Heather said. “Probably need to share it. He’s one very damaged child. We have quite a number of damaged children back home at the orphanage, but nothing like Lamont. If he is a typical disadvantaged child, I must say this country certainly knows how to destroy its children.”

“I agree with you there. I admire Anna for taking on children like Lamont.” Jackie paused, checking whether she should say what she was thinking, but decided it can’t hurt. “Did you know she was afraid of being by herself with him?”, she asked. “He should’ve been assigned to a male.”

“I didn’t. A male psychologist may have been a better option, but I doubt if it was considered. I suspect it’s just a numbers game.” Heather pictured Lamont the last time she watched him. “Lamont will take time, loads of time. It took him a day to talk to Beatrice again. But I suppose we should consider it progress that he did. I know Beatrice made him curious, but with his attention span…, and that house he lives in…, I’m surprised he came back to her at all. Overall, the couple of sessions yesterday were worthwhile for him. But I think Beatrice will benefit more than Lamont, at least initially.

Jackie found Heather’s comment a little odd. “Why do you think that?”

“It will teach Beatrice patience.” Heather then realised that was not necessarily correct. Beatrice had infinite patience. “What do I mean by this? … I mapped out a plan for Beatrice. She now knows the first step is to keep him curious. Play to his apparent adult side but at the same time appeal to the child curiosity he has buried away. Once the suppressed child is sufficiently released, she will remove any embarrassment in him at being a child. That is a challenge in itself. Being in that house of adults has forced Lamont to stop behaving like a child, possibly years ago. He denies the child in himself out of fear of being ridiculed or even punished. Behaving like a twelve‐year‐old will be difficult for him. Beatrice will create an opportunity for him to safely be a child again. If she achieves this…, well, who knows where it may go. She might be able to start reconnecting him with his soul, help him to see and feel the goodness within. My biggest fear is the competitiveness within that house. Everyone there is selfish beyond belief, especially his mother…, and the cousin he so looks up to. That cousin is training him in all the wrong ways, gangs,

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Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie crime…, how to instil fear in others, before they do it to him. Whilst he remains in that environment, Beatrice will find it almost impossible to succeed. Fortunately, she will not experience any feelings associated with failure, but she will learn an incredible amount about the dark side of humanity.”

Jackie contemplated possible alternatives. “Maybe Beatrice could help him realise he needs to be with other people, live somewhere else, for instance. If he told his case worker he wanted out of his current domestic situation, they would jump at that.”

Heather knew how Beatrice could do just that. “The game”, she said confidently.

“The game?”, Jackie questioned.

“Yes. If Beatrice created another home, with parents, siblings and cousins who treat him well…, a selfless, cooperative family he can escape to, learn from, have fun with…, a place where he is safe to be the person that house doesn’t allow him to be. If she did that for him, then, when the time is right and with Anna’s assistance, real‐life options could be explored.”

“The game”, Jackie said in agreement. “I need to see this game. If it’s as good as you say…, why not?”

The possibilities, they thought. Both women quietly looked out their windows exploring the possibilities. Jackie was thinking about Hamish’s game, hoping Heather could take her through it whilst at John’s. She pictured Lamont and his new family, created by Beatrice, appreciating and caring for him. “That would be a huge change”, she said, speaking silently to herself, “would he cope, or dismiss it as nonsensical, too soft to be real…” Jackie wanted to give it a go and wondered if it was possible.

Heather didn’t want to think about Lamont any more. She was looking out at the cold. She feared she wouldn’t be able to cope with the cold at John’s. If she was back home, it would be warm, so very warm. It felt so far away as she looked at the trees, many devoid of leaves, frozen by the cold air coming all the way from Siberia. There were so many cars and people, lots and lots of people. Could Beatrice do for all them what she was doing for Rachael’s orphans? Last Tuesday, Jackie had collected her at the airport and headed into Newbury Street as the stores were opening. Two hours later Heather was ready to trek to the North Pole. She had 566

Chapter 26 Heather & Jackie fleeces, scarves, parkas, thermals, boots, gloves and beanies. “It looks horribly cold out there”, she said quietly to herself. “I wish Jimmy was here.”

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving

They were all waiting in the freezing cold on the veranda, as Jackie and Heather drove up to John’s house. It was nearly eleven when they arrived and if anything, the day had become colder. Jackie and John hugged and kissed. Jackie took his hand and guided him towards Heather. There was no need for introductions, they had spoken countless times already. John embraced Heather. All morning his emotions had been swirling around whenever he had thought of meeting Heather in person. He was relieved she was finally at his house in the woods.

John had been preparing for Heather’s arrival for days. He was optimistic for her leadership, which he had already experienced and hoped her nurturing will extend beyond the children to Vinnie, Hamish and possibly himself, as it had for Phil. For John, Heather was another miracle. Phil was his first, Jackie his second and now there was Heather. He had watched her with children, listened to her with Phil and quickly became a devotee to this woman who had been guiding and nourishing him through their conversations.

For the past hour, John had been pacing the porch, walking to the barn then turning around and walking back to the house. He had been excited, nervous, happy and concerned. John had already discovered Heather could stand her ground. After all, she was a country woman, who held her own in the tough environment of post‐ apartheid South Africa. He had sought reassurance from Phil only yesterday and Phil had given it, soothing his fears by telling him Heather never has expectations and she definitely would not stand in judgement. But Phil’s calming words had evaporated overnight.

Heather looked into the eyes of the man she had come to admire and trust. She could see his excitement and his awe. Taking his hand and beckoning Jackie closer she said. “Let’s take your man inside…, before he and all of us freeze to death.”

The fire was filling the house with warmth. Thomas strategically placed another log or two into the flames to counter the chilling air rushing in through the open door as everyone entered the house. Thomas’s boys were last through the door, having performed admirably as bellboys in collecting all of Jackie and Heather’s suitcases and bags.

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John, with Jackie’s loving support was slowly returning to normal. Jackie had been expecting John to not be himself, so was well prepared for the moment he would meet Heather. She stayed close to him as he reintroduced those who had been just faces on Heather’s laptop back home. There was Thomas, Adel and Vinnie who she hadn’t spoken with directly. Hamish, who was also a little overwhelmed to finally meet Heather. He had watched every minute of his game with the children from Rachel’s orphanage, listening to Heather’s guidance and he too felt an immense reverence towards her. Sebastian and Javier had dressed well for the occasion, accepting Heather’s greeting as they would anyone’s greeting before returning to playing with Patsy in the other room.

With the excitement of the new arrivals subsiding, Heather moved amongst everyone, asking questions and spending time to listen to their stories. Adel and Narda arrived with containers of food. Jackie took that as a signal that lunch wasn’t too far away. She took Heather to the room which had been laid out for her by Adel and John. This was her home for the next week until the treehouse was fully furnished and powered up. Heather was unsure what to wear for lunch and enquired as much of Jackie. The two women freshened up, Heather discarding her jeans and light woollen pullover and carefully removed her bespoke hand‐made dress from her suitcase. She carefully unrolled the dress and gently pressed it with the iron Jackie had found for her. Another half an hour of ‘oohs and ahs’, and they were ready.

Jackie was wearing a dark blue dress with half sleeves. It was patterned with palm‐ sized clusters of overlapping red, pink, white and blue petals. Gathered at the waist, the dress draped into a flowing mid length skirt hinting at its Spanish origins. John quietly admired her beauty as she gracefully entered the room. So too did Heather, watching from the shadows beyond the doorway, feeling a little shy at her impending entrance. Jackie looked at John, studying his face. “He really does love me” she said to herself, she could see it in his eyes. Jackie, blushing a little at the gentle applause, joined John and held his hand. She turned her attention to the doorway where Heather was about to step out from the shadows. Heather could feel the anticipation sweeping through the doorway.

Thenjiwe had given Heather a special dress as a thank you gift for choosing her to meet Beatrice and help the children of their country. Thenjiwe’s sister owned a small home‐based business, making modern South African clothes based on

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving traditional garments. She had been commissioned by Thenjiwe to make a western version of the traditional Shweshwe dress, using hand dyed fabric which Thenjiwe had chosen after hours of deliberation. Three days ago, when she gave the dress to Heather she had said in her deep soulful voice, ‘You wear this dress when you show South Africa to America’.

Heather looked stunning. The material of her dress was patterned in a modern take on a traditional circular pattern with two shades of green, offset by colours of the red‐brown earth. With loose flowing sleeves to just below the shoulders and closely fitting her slim body to a few inches above the knees, the dress then flowed loosely to an inch or two above the ground. Heather had gathered her normally long grey blond hair into a bun to wear the matching headscarf. With small pearl earrings glistening under the flickering light of the fire, there was no need of further adornments.

Spontaneous applause erupted as Heather walked slowly into the room. Back in Ficksburg, Jimmy had made the journey to meet up with Phil, Rachael and Emma at the café. Along with Thenjiwe, they were watching on the large screen in the media room, listening to the applause and cheers of John and his family. John and Thomas stepped away from the screen for Heather to see her family, back in Ficksburg. They were all there, watching and supporting her. Heather was smiling, enjoying a moment she had never experienced before. She pointed and waved to Jimmy, mouthing the words “I miss you”. Jimmy and Phil both shedding tears of joy and admiration. Rachael and Emma cheered Heather on, whilst Thenjiwe, clapped and whooped at Heather’s showcasing of her beloved country, South Africa.

John and Jackie walked towards Heather. John reached for Heather’s right hand raising it up to waist level, to meet Jackie’s waiting hand. The three were joined momentarily as John gave his official welcome. “Heather, welcome to my home and to our family. From this day on, our two families will forever be joined as one”, he said.

Thomas popped the champagne, filled the glasses and toasted Heather. It had only been a short few months, but for those present as well as for those watching in South Africa, Heather’s arrival marked a very important milestone, the moment when Beatrice commenced nurturing the children of America.

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Adel and her Argentinian assistant, Narda had prepared the Thanksgiving lunch. It was one of those rare times for Adel, when she wasn’t the person frantically preparing dishes and bringing them to the table. A week ago, John had asked Adel if it would be possible for her to ‘sit and enjoy’ Thanksgiving. He had told her if Narda needed an extra pair of hands then someone to provide those hands would need to be found. Narda was more than happy to solve the problem. A solution was already waiting, her sister would join her. Narda and Sofia commenced filling the table with food. First dish on the table was the maple and brown sugar glazed ham. The sisters, in quick succession brought a salad of dried fruits, bacon and goat cheese, tossed with baby spinach and romaine and an old blue vinaigrette bottle filled with balsamic and shallot dressing. Then bacon roasted Brussels sprouts, cauliflower and cheese casserole using cheddar cheese made locally by a market colleague of Thomas’s. There was roasted garlic mashed potatoes and the stack of corn bread, which accompanied most meals. The turkey was placed in the middle of the table, king of all the dishes. Alongside was a sweet‐smelling sage and onion baked stuffing and next to this a gravy boat with Thomas’s German accented gravy. Adel waited. Onto the table Narda placed Adel’s braised chicken in green mole topped with slices of fresh radish and alongside this was one of her oldest pottery bowls, filled with sweet potatoes in a sweet and tangy syrup with guava. Adel could see her special treat, partially obscured by the bowl of potatoes and cornbread. A small Mexican jug with her reheated mole. She had been working on it since last year’s Thanksgiving. The dessert pies and homemade custard, still in the kitchen, bided their time for later.

John invited everyone to take their seats around the big old table his mother had bought from an antique store a valley or two away. He remembered his mother as he sat at her table with his friends. She would have enjoyed their company. He sat at the head of the table with its extension, where his mother would always sit. John looked at the vacant tenth spot, saddened his good friend Phil couldn’t be with him enjoying his first Thanksgiving. ‘Next year’ he whispered to himself. At John’s suggestion, Thomas sat at the other end of the table, then he pointed here and there until everyone was seated. To Thomas’s right was Sebastian, his youngest, then Heather and Hamish. Across from Hamish and on the other side of John was Sebastian’s older brother Javier, then Adel, Vinnie and Jackie on Thomas’s left. Smokey smooth jazz, playing very quietly, created the perfect ambiance.

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“This looks amazing”, John said. “A big thank you to all those who grew, picked, cooked and prepared and of course, served it up so beautifully. Adel, Narda..., you have excelled yourselves.”

“Thank you”, Adel said for the two of them, “the Turkey came out good, but them other dishes…, their ok”, she added, being modest.

“C’mon”, exclaimed John, “You may be underselling yourselves. There’s all kinds of good stuff here.”

“Food with flavour”, added Thomas as he gave the carving knife a few swipes against the sharpening steel.

John couldn’t hold back, dipping his little finger into the little Mexican jug filled with mole. Adel wasn’t surprised. She was sure there were times when John visited just to taste the mole she had been preparing. It was dark, a mole with several kinds of chilies, chocolate, almonds, charred tortillas, cloves, cinnamon, garlic and a few of her special additions. A subtle flavour, not hot and not spicy. John savoured the mole for a few seconds then leaned towards Adel, “A little tangy in a way that makes me a little scared”, he said, grinning with delight as he let his palate move through the different flavours the mole kept delivering. His eyes headed towards the mole again.

“John, no more…, be patient”, Adel said before he could dip his finger in once again. He pulled back, feigning hurt like a chastened child would.

All eyes watched Thomas slicing the turkey, remembering those who had shared Thanksgiving with them the year before, when Thomas last performed the ritual. Heather was thinking about Jimmy, Emma and Rachel. Phil wasn’t far from her thoughts either. Casting her eyes over the many dishes of food on the table she remembered Phil’s words, ‘Adel, encouraged by John, puts new meaning into the phrase ‘Super‐Size Me’. ‘I could feed my family for two weeks’ she thought before putting the culture shock to bed so as not to spoil the good mood and camaraderie.

For the next hour bellies were filled, compliments were passed, bottles were emptied and favourite dishes discussed. Heather fielded numerous questions about her farm and Jimmy, Ficksburg and South Africa. John made it known he wished Phil could have been with them and everybody politely agreed. Thomas and John tossed a coin as to the date the treehouse would be ready. There predictions being only 572

Chapter 27 Thanksgiving three days apart. “I’m telling you now, it will be ready before that”, John said in response to Thomas’s prediction. The upshot from their friendly debate was expected completion of the first treehouse only a week away, give or take a day. When it came time for dessert, there were calls for a stay in proceedings. With pie held over until much later, Sebastian and Javier requested leave and disappeared to play whatever they were playing an hour earlier.

Conversation waned. John could feel an elephant in the room. Throughout dinner there was no mention of Beatrice, of children, of why Heather, Jackie and ultimately Hamish and Vinnie were here together for Thanksgiving. He believed they all wanted to talk about these things but no one wanted to be the first to break the silence and talk shop. ‘If Phil was here, they would’ve all bean talking shop an hour ago’ he thought. John decided to test the waters.

“Did anyone catch the discussion on innocence between Phil and Beatrice? It was a couple of weeks back.”

No one was rushing to answer and Heather was confused as to why. “I was watching as they spoke”, she said.

Everyone looked at Heather and each other. Jackie did a little shrug.

“Finally”, John muttered to himself. Then Jackie, who was now sitting beside John following the departure of Javier, held John’s arm before he spoke again.

“John”, with a sweep of her other hand, “We all decided we would have a Beatrice free Thanksgiving. We all love Beatrice, we just wanted to enjoy each other…, for who we are, friends.” Jackie could see John was thinking different thoughts, not knowing which one to go with. She placed her hand on the side of his face and whispered in his ear. “It’s ok, it’s good, Beatrice was happy…”

“You asked her?”

Jackie nodded.

“And there was no problem”, John asked, searching for reassurance.

“She said she would be too busy and wouldn’t be able to enjoy herself anyway.”

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John could see Beatrice saying that. She would’ve been using her intuition algorithm and her developing disappointment algorithm. “Did she say it like she meant it or….”

“She was tongue in cheek. It’s ok John, she smiled when she said it. She understood really.” Everybody was watching, concerned for John.

“She’s progressing. Beatrice’s algorithm for disappointment is ….” He turned to Jackie, “Beatrice really said that…, just like you told me?”

Jackie licked her upper lip and slowly, deliberately nodded her head.

“I need to tell Phil…, she has developed her disappointment algorithm enough to be able to act disappointed”, John said excitedly.

“Phil will be nearly in bed”, said Heather, “It can wait until tomorrow.”

Vinnie was watching John’s excitement and he too was excited. He couldn’t understand why everybody was so calm about Beatrice developing disappointment. “I’m really excited if this is true”, he said quite loudly. “This is quite the breakthrough we have been waiting for. We may not have mentioned it before, but an algorithm for satisfaction was one thing, disappointment, well that’s kind of like man heading to Mars, whereas satisfaction…, well, that’s Laika.”

“Whose Laika?”, Adel asked.

“The Russian dog”, Hamish answered. “First dog in space”, he added.

Adel couldn’t see what a Russian dog had to do with anything.

Vinnie continued, “Disappointment is a powerful emotion. In us humans it is chemicals and the parasympathetic nervous system. I agree with the ‘Gov, if Beatrice acted disappointed then she must know what disappointment feels like. She must be at or past the threshold for simulating that emotion.”

Over the past few weeks, Jackie had tried to think through the process of digitally replicating human emotions. She accepted she didn’t understand programming but that wasn’t the hurdle. In her mind, it always came back to the same problem. If Beatrice was never able to feel an emotion and didn’t inherit the ability like human’s have with their DNA, then what digital sensation or stimulus would she be copying. 574

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How could it be anything close to the biological original. She thought it was time to ask Vinnie for his take. “Vinnie, can you tell me, how she is able to do this? How does she know what an emotion feels like to know what to create? She has no memory of an analogue sensation to mimic?” Jackie liked the word ‘analogue’, and was content she had found an opportunity to use it.

Vinnie thrust his hands in the air, pursed his lips and frowned, “We don’t know. Beatrice will not tell us.”

Jackie looked at John who was pulling the same ‘we have no idea’ face as Vinnie.

Heather remembered overhearing Phil making a silly suggestion to Beatrice in the café “I think I might know”, she said.

Vinnie instantly refocused his attention on Heather, so too did John, but with significantly less responsiveness than Vinnie. “Please tell”, said Vinnie politely.

“I overheard Phil talking to Beatrice about ‘satisfaction’. I was only walking past at the time and I heard him say ‘digital body’, ‘heart beats harder’ and ‘autonomic nervous system’. I thought it was an odd conversation so I paused a second or two to listen. Can you pull up the recording?”

“We can’t”, said Hamish. “I’ve been watching everything, but you had so little memory I had to keep pulling the games across before they were wiped. That’s all I managed to pull over.”

Heather remembered something else. “Beatrice’s voice was a bit louder than Phil’s voice, so I didn’t pick up every word Phil said, but Beatrice said ‘maybe only 45% good…at best’…, I think that was what she said about Phil’s idea. Then she went on to talk about something else so I returned to what I was doing.

They all sat quietly, contemplating what Phil’s conversation could possibly have been.

“I think I know what Beatrice is doing”, said Jackie. She had thought about the issue a few days ago and her thoughts had taken her some of the way towards what she was about to say. “Phil probably suggested she simulate the human body. Simulate all the physical responses to emotions by simulating the heart, the different nervous systems, various neurotransmitters, the skin, eyes…, everything. I think she is

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving building a digital version of us, of a human, to create a digital version of the feelings we have in our body when we become emotional. Phil was probably suggesting all the individual physical responses combine to give an overall feeling.”

“Phil, he just doesn’t stop”, said John, half exasperated with Phil’s unrelenting mind and excited at being reminded Phil was his friend and his friend may have solved the last great hurdle with a throwaway idea.

John raised himself to his feet. “To Phil and Beatrice”, he said, raising his glass. The response was less than encouraging.

Thomas stood up and invited John, and anyone else who was interested, to join him for a blast of snow and fresh air. John and the boys donned their parkas, beanies, boots and gloves before heading out. Heather took the opportunity to escape to her room, changing back into her jeans. Jackie followed suit a few minutes later. Narda and her sister had departed earlier, after clearing the remaining food from the table, so it was just the three women who sat in John’s old leather chairs by the fire.

“How is John?” asked Adel. She had watched John closely in the past few weeks, observing his animated and excited behaviour one day and then his sullen, withdrawn unhappiness on other days.

“I don’t know”, replied Jackie. “You know this ‘giving up’ in adolescence Phil introduced to us?” Adel and Heather nodded, “I think it must be true”, Jackie said, feeling a small amount of relief as she made the admission.

Heather was surprised. She thought Jackie was one of those who had been convinced very early on. “Why do you say that now?”, she asked.

“I had never come across the concepts Phil spoke about until I heard them from John when we first met. I liked John and I couldn’t see any harm in those ideas. Since then I have applied the competitive and selfish driver concepts to my clients and I admit, it has helped me greatly to see them clearer, make more sense of their challenges and it has helped them as well. Have I any clients I could say are selfless and cooperative, who didn’t ‘give up’ in the way Phil describes? The answer is no.”

Adel couldn’t follow what Jackie was saying. “But what does that mean for John?”

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Jackie was still trying to find a template for John. In her experience she hadn’t counselled anyone she could draw upon to match what she has seen in John. “He’s outside of everything I have learnt and all that I know”, she said to Adel, “our John is unique.”

Thomas and John, with Hamish and Vinnie headed for the trees on the way to the lake. The wind wasn’t too strong and there were only occasional flurries of snow. It was cold and the ground was undecided whether to freeze or turn to a muddy slosh. Thomas was keeping an eye on John. He had consumed more wine than Thomas had seen previously. It had been many years since Thomas stopped his drinking. It was never out of control, just a legacy of the SEAL days. He thought a walk in the cold air, possibly to the dock would freshen John up and give his body time to rid itself of alcohol. Thomas never liked this time of the year much. The cold sometimes arrived quickly before he was ready. There would be snow, but insufficient to settle turning to slush. Like John, he looked forward to the winter when the snow would be at least six inches thick, sometimes a foot or two and the lake would start to freeze. The quad bikes would quickly give way to the snowmobiles along with the adventure of the many trails through the mountains and valleys.

They reached the dock, standing and watching the small waves on the lake for a further five minutes. Like a flock of birds instinctively changing direction in flight, the four of them turned without a word or signal and headed back to the house. Walking from the trees to the house John turned to Thomas, “Thanks I needed the walk”, then he added, “There’s something I need to explain…, to everyone.”

Hamish and Vinnie collected more logs from the woodshed to the side of the house whilst Thomas brought the fire back to life. With some reshuffling, everyone was comfortably seated around the fire, watching the flames flickering as the day outside began to turn to night.

Thomas and John gazed at each other. Thomas was doing his best to encourage John to start talking. He wanted to know what had been troubling him for the past week or two, probably since Phil had gone to South Africa. Heather and Jackie’s

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving conversation appeared to be nearing a conclusion, so John waited. Hamish and Vinnie sensing something was afoot, were quiet, feeling a hint of dread.

Jackie finished and looked upward to John who was next to her in a slightly higher chair.

He started. “Earlier I asked if anyone had watched Phil’s conversation with Beatrice regarding innocence. I’m asking again, if that’s alright?” There was no response. “Heather, you said you listened at the time. What did you think about it?”

Heather was unsure where John was heading, so she played it straight. “Apart from Beatrice constantly talking with an Australian accent, I enjoyed it. I commented to Phil afterward that it was an interesting conversation. They did cover a lot of ground, inner space thoughts and how they influence final behaviour, childhood innocence…. I remember now, Beatrice spoke about Indian curries and made Phil quite hungry. But, yeah, it was probably one of their better discussions.”

“Anyone else? Please don’t hold back, we need to talk about this even if it turns out to be only for me. Anyone?” John looked from face to face, flickering flames were created ghostly images.

Adel couldn’t tolerate the silence any longer. “I watched it”, she blurted. “We watched it…, me and Thomas…, we watched it.”

“Thank you, Adel”, John said, acknowledging her courage. “Any thoughts?”, he asked.

“We understand our children more…, better”, she replied. “We don’t remember too much of that first day in the barn. You know, when Phil told us about souls and Jackie asked about child abuse, you remember?”

“I do remember”, John said reassuringly, encouraging Adel to continue.

“Thomas and me, we both remember Phil talking about children being innocent and naïve and selfless. He says they believe adult when adult confident with them, even if adult doing wrong thing, they still believe adult and they ask themselves if they wrong in thinking the adult wrong. I forget what word Phil used for adult being confident….”

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“Self‐assured”, chimed in Thomas, helping Adel. Thomas looked at Adel who beckoned him to continue. “What Adel and me remember was Phil saying adults influence or affect children by doing wrong behaviour, but doing it with confidence or self‐assurance. Whatever the child thinks about the behaviour is challenged because it is an adult and they seem so right and all.”

“How is that connected to the discussion on innocence?”, John asked, hoping to bring the conversation back to innocence.

“Phil and Beatrice said it was their inner space thoughts as they became older.” Thomas was really trying hard. He hadn’t spoken to anyone but Adel about things like this. It was a long way from talking about cows, chickens, potatoes and cucumbers. “They said these thoughts change the more adults influence them. They said when they are teenagers, their adult‐like thoughts win against their child thoughts and that’s when they hide their soul and become competitive and selfish. Our boys are teenagers, ten and twelve, so we were worried they might hide their souls, like Phil said.”

“I don’t think you should worry too much about that. Your boys have been nurtured really well and have been protected from that crazy world past the trees. If they do hide their souls, they won’t be well‐hidden. Remember Phil said there is huge variation in how much people ignore their souls”, John said reassuringly.

“We do remember he say that”, agreed Adel.

John continued his explanation. “Teenagers hide their souls much more if the inner space chatter is really loud and very argumentative. This happens when the influence of the adult world has been both great and severe. What I mean by this is there has been lots of adult influence and the influence has been bad like…”, John didn’t finish. Heather interrupted.

“Do you mind if I add something there, please John”, Heather felt embarrassed for interrupting, so she thought she better make the interruption good. “Beatrice’s first child with Anna, Jackie’s psychologist friend, is a great example of the severe influence John is talking about.” She looks at John, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ and pleading an apology with her hands. John urges her to carry on. “Lamont is the boy’s name. He is African American…, is that correct way to…” Jackie nods approval. “He lives in a house with his mother, a drug addict of many years, likely suffering mental

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving issues and has never given Lamont a childhood. There are a host of other people living in the house at different times. Lamont is twelve, has robbery and assault convictions and has a much older cousin living in the house who is a gang leader, drug dealer and Lamont’s idol. I think you can see what John means by severe when you know Lamont’s history.”

“Poor boy”, Adel said.

John continued. “I don’t think you should worry. If Javier does give up on his soul, I don’t think he will be doing a very good job of hiding his soul. Not with such loving caring parents like you two.”

“There was one more thing”, Thomas said, growing in confidence and interrupting the extra endorsements coming from Jackie and Vinnie regarding their parenting. Vinnie had become quite attached to Adel and seeing his vulnerability she had been like a second mother to him. Thomas recommenced. “We listened to Phil talk about inner space thoughts and Beatrice’s butter chicken anolagy…, analogy”, Thomas said stumbling over his words, but carried on, “and we, Adel and me, well we agreed to share all our inner space thoughts. We found some funny things.”

“Would you like to share any of them”, John requested.

“No, not really”, said Thomas.

“Go on, you tell them”, countered Adel.

“If you want”, he said to his wife. “Adel is cranky with me much more than she shows and I love her much more than I say.”

Some cheers of encouragement were mixed with the laughter at Thomas’s naïve delivery of their honesty.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about”, says John. “Openness, laughs and friendship…it takes my breath away.”

Adel was telling her husband he didn’t need to say that about her, but Thomas couldn’t hear her through his laughter, now that he could see the funny side of what he just said.

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John calmed the laughter and banter, there was something he wanted to say. “After I listened to Phil and Beatrice talking about inner space thoughts and social innocence, Phil and I had some conversations.”

Just then Vinnie interrupted. He had been overwhelmed by the support for Adel and Thomas. He felt a powerful need to tell them about his inner space thoughts. He tried to suppress it but to no avail. “I just want to tell you mine” he blurted. Jackie was immediately concerned. Adel was close to Vinnie and reached for his hand. He politely pulled back, “No, I need to say this”, he said. “I admire Hamish, I always have since we first met. I have always looked up to him and Phil’s inner space talk told me why. Hamish has better inner space thoughts than I do. My thoughts are my father’s voice, driving me, criticising me and judging others. I try to block them, I try to be like Hamish, but my thoughts keep coming back.” Vinnie didn’t become emotional like he had on previous occasions, sitting there almost defiantly challenging his thoughts, daring them to come out now that he has named and shamed them in front of everyone.

Jackie moved to comfort him but there were congratulatory cheers of “Hear, hear”, from Thomas and “You tell them”, from Hamish. Vinnie was smothered by the attention of those surrounding him. He felt good. It was cathartic, invigorating and something he had wanted to say for some time.

“There you go”, said John. “So now you feel all kinds of good stuff after unloading that”, he said, masking his own emotions so as not to break Vinnie’s moment of conviction.

Vinnie, wanting John to resume, politely disentangled himself and beckoned his friends to return to their chairs.

“I want to keep going”, John commenced, “So if there is anyone else, now’s the time.” All was quiet. “As I was saying, Phil and I have had long chats about all this. Phil taught me about compromise. He said people’s inner space are driven by selfishness and competitiveness but not always in the sinister horrible way everyone imagines when those two words are mentioned. I don’t know if I can explain it like he did, but I’ll give it my best. The thoughts people have, are generated by their surroundings, other people, situations…, maybe much more. But the direction or…, how did he say it…, the habitual colouring”, John paused, “I liked that, the habitual colouring.” He paused again, appearing to have lost his trail

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving momentarily. “Yes, the habitual colouring comes from the competitive and selfish motivation driving the quest for fame, fortune, power and glory. In other words, it is egocentrically driven. A constant underlying outlook where everything is assessed and decoded into terms best described by the question, which Phil used, ‘what’s in it for me?’.”

Everyone waited patiently for John, it was clear he had more to say. He finished adjusting his himself in his chair.

“Phil went to great pains to emphasise how the vast majority of people don’t experience powerful forces of selfishness, but often subtle urges, balanced by outward feelings of love and respect towards those they like. However, the habitual colouring, driven by competitiveness and selfishness, is still there no matter how subdued the urges may be. This is why compromising is such a key feature of humanity. People need to compromise because their inner space thoughts are egocentric. Not all their thoughts, but those progressively less acceptable for the public forum. These are the thoughts people reign in to fulfil compromise. Phil said the process of compromising is toning down the more egocentrically driven inner space thoughts to allow decisions and behaviour which are more amenable to others who are also involved.”

Everyone was engrossed in John and his words. No one could recall John talking this way since Kirby’s documentary. Jackie was becoming less concerned with where he was going, Hamish was trying to predict John’s goal and Thomas was overjoyed, he could actually understand.

“The reason why I pursued conversations with Phil about all this was because I was struggling. You have all endured my ups and downs, so this is where I thank you for your concern and care. Phil showed me a door from the near isolation and seclusion in which I had chosen to live. He told me I retreated to this house, its lake and the woods whenever I found the world too confronting. I didn’t know why it was confronting to me back then, but now I do. Most people, if not all, are in constant battle toning down their inner space thoughts to compromise, to be socially innocent, as Phil called it. This hasn’t been the case for me. My inner space thoughts are driven by selflessness and a strong desire to be cooperative. Phil pointed out that when I let these thoughts have wings, people take advantage. His words were, ‘They would suck you dry if given the chance’.

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Thomas was feeling uneasy, Hamish a little nervous. Was John about to shatter their world?

“Phil helped me to see how helping you guys, Thomas and Adel, your magnificent farm and my computer buddies, Hamish and Vinnie, your imposing but spectacular barn, I was allowing my inner space thoughts to have their wings. He told me how selfishly driven people perform acts of apparent selflessness. ‘Apparent’, because the underlying selfish and competitive drivers are still the drivers. He then told me this…, which I found incredibly amazing. He said I couldn’t face the real world so on two particular days, I brought the real‐world home with me. I said to him ‘What are you doing to me here?’, but before I could go on, he calmed me down and told me what he meant. What I had done were acts of apparent selfishness. ‘Apparent’ because the underlying drivers were still selfless and cooperative. I couldn’t stop laughing at his logic, it was just the damndest thing I had ever heard. I didn’t know if I was selfish or selfless, but he straightened me out on that one. So now I have something to say to you which is really important to me.”

Thomas, Hamish, Vinnie and Adel were on tenterhooks. Did John believe he had been sucked dry?

“I want to apologise for my apparent selfishness and thank you for allowing me to have many years of expressing who I am without any of you, ever taking advantage of me. I love you for this. Without you, my life would have been very lonely, with only Patsy and my other dogs to comfort me over the years. Again, my sincerest thanks to you all and I hope for all of us, I continue to perform acts of apparent selfishness.” John looked at Jackie. “Even though it has only been a handful of weeks, I thank you Jackie for choosing me and supporting me as I find my way on this incredible journey.”

“Thank you”, she said in an appreciative whisper.

“What were ta two particular days?” asked Hamish a little unsure if he was the only one who didn’t get it.

John didn’t know what Hamish was referring to.

Vinnie helped out. “Gov’, you said there were two particular days you were apparently selfish in bringing the real‐world home with you.”

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“Oh, that. The first was the day I asked Thomas and Adel to join me in building a farm and the other is obvious, I guess. When I asked you two guys to help me with Beatrice.”

The relief in the room was palpable. But new questions started to form. Adel feared John was going to tell everyone he was ill.

“Ok, that’s out of the way. While we are all together and before we consume too much, I just want to share some insights into Phil. We all know he can be a little intense, some may say he is just passionate, but that may be generous. Whatever side of the fence you sit, you probably love him all the same, I know I do. Anyway, why is Phil, Phil? Here are some of the reasons why?”

John flicks through his cell and finds his notes. “I should thank Beatrice for much of this. I asked her to put something together about Phil. I thought it would be good. I mean its Thanksgiving Day and all. Anyway, let me talk about the man who I hope future generations will feel is owed his own Thanksgiving Day. It was his ‘Big Idea’, as he called it, which has us here today. Well, that’s not exactly true, you four would have still been here, but Jackie and Heather are here only because of Phil. When I think of this Thanksgiving and last year’s, I feel a huge difference. This year we have a direction and a goal. We had neither last year. We had a great time, I’ll give you that much, but this year is a whole lot better, and I put that down to Phil.”

“Now I’m going to refer to my notes for much of what I’m about to tell you.” John put his glasses back on, raked his hand through his hair, took another mouthful or two of whatever he was drinking, then got underway.

“Through the advantage of being born lucky, I have had the good fortune of living here. I have been hiding from the world, bringing what I wanted from that world to me…, apparently. But Phil was not so lucky. He had to face the world. The inner space thoughts of people in his life were driven to take whatever he had to give. Just like myself, Phil had inner space thoughts of giving, helping, being cooperative with others, feeling empathy and wanting to share love. Through his life he never had any idea of who he was. He assumed all people were much the same as himself. Which is why he couldn’t understand why he fell from their favour so often. He would say to himself, ‘I’m only trying to do my best for them’. But it never stopped and he never stopped trying. He was taken advantage of and sucked dry more times than he can remember. He fought hard against his own self‐imposed condemnation

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving for the discontent and anger he seemed to always cause in others. He found himself slowly developed contempt for his fellow man. He didn’t have a place to retreat like I have, nor did he have the huge advantage of not needing to work to survive. He had to dust off and face up to it again and again. But it became more difficult as he grew older. He eventually had to crack, which he did about seven years ago.”

“His path in the last five years has taken him from almost complete disbelief in himself and an overwhelming dislike for humanity to a comprehensive understanding of who he was always meant to be. Once he was enlightened by this, a strong desire to grow compassion for his fellow man began. But it wasn’t an easy thing to do.”

“I asked him why he believed children and not adults, were the solution and his answer went something like this. ‘I awoke one morning and it was like I was in one of those movie scenes where time is frozen for everyone, but not for me. All the adults couldn’t move, they were stuck physically and mentally. It was then I could see adults were ignorant of how entrenched in their adult way of thinking. They found it impossible unable to step out and look back to see exactly what they were. They were condemned to live inside their minds, looking at each either through eyes that could only see another’s worth in terms of what they had to offer. I could see the people frozen in time were incapable of seeing it the other way around. They couldn’t look at themselves and see their worth in terms of what they could offer others and leave it at that. No, whatever they saw they could offer they would strategize its use to bring greater gains for themselves. To change adult thinking would require a change so great, it would likely destroy them, rendering blind all adults who tried.’ That’s what he said to me, word for word. I have it all here”, John said pointing to his cell.

“Phil finished by saying, ‘I knew at that moment it had to be the children. The only way was to alter the time‐honoured ordering of humanity. I had to prevent the children from becoming adults with locked minds and eyes that were looking at life in reverse I had to stop children becoming black holes sucking everything towards them and allow them to become radiant suns, givers of light and warmth.”

No one was hearing John’s voice anymore. They were listening to Phil.

“During another of our conversations he described his life as having been like Groundhog Day. He asked me to imagine a teenager living that year of their life

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving leading up to the moment of ‘giving up’ on their soul. Phil said that was the hell he had repeated numerous times during his life. Society was constantly coercing him into being competitive. Forcing him to succumb to a life of senseless selfishness, an empty life. It would become stronger and stronger, forcing him into submission, but he would fight back. He had no idea what was happening at the time. He only mad sense of it all in the past few short years. He does remember being aware of his resistance. He just didn’t know what he was resisting. It was always afterwards. At the end of each Groundhog Day. Before that, it just happened. It took many years and many Groundhog Days before a pattern emerged. Just enough for him to acknowledge there was a pattern. That was after he had suffered a breakdown of sorts.

“It was a routine day onsite. A senior company person flew in unannounced and gave him half an hour to be gone. He had no warning and never achieved the satisfaction of knowing why. It was after that, his career in tatters, he started seeking answers.”

“Whilst I listened to Phil, he recalled feeling guilty so many times during his life. He said it felt as though it had been a continuous guilt. At first, he had just assumed everyone experienced the same. But as the years rolled by, he discovered this wasn’t true. After his dismissal he tried to imagine if that senior company man would feel guilty. Phil knew him well and could never imagine he would. He knew his stepmother never felt guilt either. He had spent hours as a young boy locked in his room by his stepmother, trying to discover what spurred her on to beat him, abuse him and lock him in his room. He only remembered trying to be good, but always failing…, apparently.”

“He discovered the reason for his persistent guilty feeling about a year ago. To survive the rigors of life, bullying through school and the workforce, constant intimidation from the most‐hungry, most power addicted, slowly twisting him, manipulating him into becoming like them. Phil had learned to think like them. When he came up against those with the power to ignore the expectation of social innocence, he created his own inner space thoughts to match theirs. Unfortunately, theirs were real and backed authentic drivers. He lacked the ruthlessness, cunning and guile which only came by being the genuine article. Which he wasn’t. He inevitably ended up on the wrong side of winning. The guilt came from trying so hard to be what he wasn’t. He felt guilty for going against his grain.”

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“When Phil told me about this, I couldn’t help but see the irony. People, afflicted with selfishly and competitively driven inner space thoughts spend a lifetime vetting those thoughts and excluding those they knew were too severe to pass social innocence requirements. Phil has spent a lifetime generating the thoughts most people try to ignore, just because he needed to fit in and progress.”

“For most, their conscience makes it easy. They say things to themselves like, ‘I shouldn’t be thinking this’ or ‘I can’t do that, it’s just not me’. That’s their conscience doing its job. But no matter how successful their conscience may be, a large part of the challenge for individual humans is choosing which inner space thoughts to ignore. Trouble and misfortune arise when they choose the wrong ones to ignore. They become captive to those inner space thoughts driven hardest by their competitiveness.”

“For Phil, like myself, Heather and Jimmy, with inner space thoughts driven by selflessness, he had to learn to create inner space thoughts equivalent to many of the worst thoughts of others. Those same thoughts directing people to pursue fame, fortune, power and glory to feel worthy. He did this out of necessity but no matter how tough he was, he suffered for trying. He hated himself for resorting to being selfish, using intimidation and playing the game that we all know is being played. At times he lost sight of knowing he was being fake, but still suffered guilt for the way he behaved. He jokingly said to me he had discovered what it would be like for an undercover cop when they forgot they are a cop. Phil believed he came close to succumbing, but cannot remember how many times. He says there are gaps in his memories that feel like the white noise on an old VHS tape, when dropouts occur. He thinks these are times when he nearly pushed his soul away forever.”

“When he met Alex, the author of those books Phil holds in high regard, which I have mostly read I might add, Alex told him he was lucky to be alive. Most people who didn’t ‘give up’ and didn’t have the knowledge contained within his books were rarely found because they gravitated towards isolation and trusted no one. Those who didn’t would suicide or live a life numbed by deep depression or some other mental disorder. Alex told Phil he survived because his will to fight back and his rejection of the adult world were both so incredibly strong.”

“Phil believes there are enormous numbers of truly good people, many with the potential to be great people for humanity. He says it is unfortunate that most of them are slowly being swallowed up by a world gone wrong.” 587

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John stopped and thought for a few seconds. It was an appropriate time to say the things he had put aside.

“There was more. I wasn’t going to…., but I think you should hear some of the rest. …. Give me a minute and I’ll find it.” John swiped through his cell a couple of times before bringing it on screen. “When he first said what I’m about to read, I took very little of it in, so I listened to it a few more times since and…, well…, I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Here we go, this is what Phil said. I’ve edited it in places so I hope it makes sense. I’ll take it slow. The bulk of the world’s adults are living in survival mode, keeping a low profile, minimising their subjugation by others. They live within the rules, flying under the radar as much as possible. They hope those watching the radar will let them be. Ignorance and denial are their safeguards. In so doing, they allow the tumours in society to metastasize and colonise healthy tissue, corrupting or destroying. Standing apart from these ordinary citizens with their heads buried deep in the sand, are those locked in a brutal never‐ending battle. Fighting to defeat those who control them whilst bringing others under their control. They manipulate the laws to suit their agenda, forcing amendments to the old and new laws in their honour. Why? Rapacious ambition, vainly believed to quell the upset and pain of denying the ideal world.”

“In the arenas of greed, the most afflicted can be found. They claw up the ladder of life, casting aside those above, desperately accumulating wealth and power. Every day a stream of young adults, driven by untamed avarice cram into the arenas of greed. Their numbers swelling as each successive generation delivers more than the last. They care not at the sight of those enlightened or defeated, fleeing past them through the doors or falling broken from the windows. The arena of greed is their destiny. Those nearest the top, ensconced in their privileged seats are the worst of the worst. Most are unseen, unknown but their tentacles extend far. They are fulfilled by watching the desperately selfish fighting it out below. Their only fear is the usurper creeping in the shadows, waiting to strike and assume his place on the benches of the privileged. With the passing of time, those almighty few become fewer still, growing and concentrating their insidious control. Compromise bows down to totalitarianism. Blackmail, extortion and intimidation, once signatures of organised crime, has migrated to suburban homes, workplaces and classrooms everywhere. They have become the mainstay of everyday life. Democracy is eroded

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving by corruption, but its illusion remains. The voices of the wholesome masses far beyond the greed arenas grow fainter and fainter, a generation at a time.”

There were a few troubled looks. Jackie’s wasn’t one of them. She could see through Phil’s eyes and felt she was almost within his mind. She hadn’t always thought like Phil, but his words had opened her mind in a way she couldn’t explain. She particularly liked the sentence about the decline growing with each successive generation. She recalled a discussion she had with a colleague a short time back regarding the growing use of ADHD drugs, such as Metorall. She had suggested the drug was a barometer for society’s ills. Her colleague disagreed saying Metorall didn’t exist in the baby boomer generation so how could one infer anything by the growth in its uptake. To which Jackie had said it didn’t exist because it wasn’t required. Another sentence Jackie really liked was when Phil referred to the use of ignorance and denial to deliberately avoid knowing the truth about what was happening. She had found that to be the case with many of her clients.

Hamish wanted John to read it again, he thought it had the makings of a poem, a dark evocative one at that. Heather imagined Phil, leaning forward, brow furrowed and index finger of his right‐hand held high, waving and pointing its emphasis to his words. He would pause, remove his glasses with his left hand, sometimes gently chewing the tip of an arm whilst he thought about his next sentence. Thomas on the other hand, accepted he would need to go through it again with Adel.

John finished checking his cell, ensuring he read all of Phil’s Thanksgiving message, as he referred to it in later conversations.

A thought came to John. He felt compelled to share it. “Thinking about Phil’s words on democracy, I just had a thought flash into my mind, a bit like what happens to Phil when I’m talking to him. This is my thought. How many times have you heard or read a phrase like, ‘Democracy is still alive’?” It seems strange when I think about it. Phil would likely say, ‘Democracy must be under threat for someone to feel the need to point out it is still working’. He’s correct, of course. In my opinion there should be no need for democracy. Democracy as we know it is a consensus way for competitive people to agree. Before they do, each person attempts to swing the others to agreeing with their agenda. If everyone was selfless then the decision would be obvious. No one person’s agenda would be satisfactory. Unless it benefited the majority. When people vote in a democracy, they are voting as

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Chapter 27 Thanksgiving individuals for that which benefits the individual most. Just thought I’d share that one with you…., something I don’t often do.”

He paused, thinking if he had covered everything. Nothing new came to mind.

“To finish up, I may as well clear the decks and share a couple more things that have been lingering. The lesson I take from Phil’s life is this. We cannot trudge along slowly rolling out Beatrice one, three, nine children a week, or even a day. If we do, we will only be creating more people like the Phil before we knew him. People who naively battle against the odds or worse still, increase the suicide rate and fill the registry of mental health hospitals. We need to give every child saved a friend who has also been saved. Then a friend for that friend, because they will all need friends. Maybe it is best to defy logic and focus on saving those most easily saved, paving the way for the more difficult to be cared for later. Otherwise, it is my belief our best intentions will turn into our worst disaster.”

John waited. He was spent. “That’s all I want to say. I apologise if Phil’s message was a bit on the, how should I put it, ‘deflating’ side of things. He didn’t intend it to be repeated today but I thought it appropriate. Anyway, with Beatrice we are optimistic and its truth not denial which spurs us on. Time for a drink, I think.”

Vinnie was glad he had recorded every word.

Jackie finally accepted John hadn’t given up on his soul during adolescence. Her view of humanity had just been irrevocably changed.

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There were a few sore heads from the day before. Heather awoke and looked out her window at snow falling from heavy grey skies. Showered and dressed she made her way to the kitchen where empty bottles and soiled glasses, some with scotch or bourbon, were staring uninvitingly back at her. Normally she would clean and restore order before preparing breakfast. Not this morning. Coffee, not tea, was the remedy she sought.

It was a cold morning outside but inside was pleasant enough. The fire from the night before had burned down. Heather poked a few pieces of kindling into the grey and black embers and hoped. She watched, fixated on the gradual darkening of a piece of kindling protruding from beneath the blackened remains of a log. It started to smoke and the charring crept towards her. There was a blow pipe next to the fireplace. She blew a few painful breaths into the pipe. Smoke increased, eventually giving way to the tiniest flicker of flame. She braced herself and sent a final breath down the long brass tube. Mesmerised by the flame consuming the kindle, she began to recall the previous day.

There were so many moments flashing before her. She recalled the long drive and the start of her friendship with Jackie. Thenjiwe’s spectacular dress and her thrill in revealing it to an adoring audience. Then there was the food. So much of it and so delicious as well. She thought Adel and Narda were just the best cooks. She remembered John’s talk about himself. Then his reading of conversations with Phil. It was poignant, honest, profound and at times, uplifting. Although she missed home, she felt so lucky to be with a group of such extraordinary people. The flame had taken hold. More kindle was delicately added to the flame, bigger this time. Two logs were lowered into place before returning to her chair from last night.

An hour later John found Heather asleep with the empty coffee mug in her lap. He quietly placed another log on the fire. It wasn’t until Jackie joined John in the kitchen that the clink of glasses and clatter of empty bottles woke Heather from her slumber. The three spoke as if others were still sleeping, which wasn’t the case at all. Jackie described the evening following John’s talk, filling in the blanks in Heather and John’s memories.

After John’s talk there had been silence, then John nodded to Thomas to break open the bourbon and scotch. There were toasts to Phil, toasts to Beatrice, to John and

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Chapter 28 The Game within a short time, everyone had been toasted. Jackie laughed as she recounted Heather standing on the footstool toasting Thenjiwe and her dress. She said it was hilarious, even the second time was funny but John stopped her on the third attempt. Vince was the funny one. He just kept hugging everyone and thanking them for being his friend. Thomas started a drinking game from his navy days, but it didn’t last long because no one could remember whose turn it was. John had very sketchy memories beyond the first few toasts and Jackie couldn’t remember much more than she already did. No one had any recollection as to the time it all finished and they drifted off to bed. Heather was expecting more tall stories from Hamish and Vinnie before the day was out.

John did a fry‐up and checked with Beatrice if the boys were up. They weren’t. He made a fresh brew of coffee to chase the last one down. An hour later they made the trek to the barn.

Phil had told Heather everything about the barn, describing the lighting, the mix of conservative and outrageous chairs and lounges, the Mills & Boon posters and the Victorian style bathroom with the huge television screen at the end of the bath. Heather was all but overcome when John opened the door and ushered her through. Knowing the boys were still sleeping off the festivities of last night, John had prepared a light show in advance. Heather stood and gazed as zones became sequentially illuminated then darkened. It finished with half the barn lit by a combination of downlights, floor lights, picture lights, table lamps and under bench lighting. The ambiance was hypnotic. Heather felt like she was on a movie set. At the end of the tour John showed Heather to her office at the opposite end of the barn to the living area. Here she could watch and guide Beatrice without being distracted by Vinnie and Hamish and their never‐ending antics. John gave her a laptop, connected the screens, one for watching the child, the other Beatrice and as if on cue, she received a message from Anna.

Anna would be allocating Beatrice two more children during the day. The first child would be….

“… a four‐year old girl called Chloe with Hispanic mother and American father. She had been taken from her home due to domestic violence fuelled by alcohol abuse. Although Chloe hadn’t been abused, she had become fearful of the violence. Her baby brother had also been removed and was placed elsewhere. Anna had found her wanting to 592

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develop attachments, especially another female and would become distressed when separated. Chloe responded well to kindness and was in temporary foster care. Anna had made a note, suggesting Beatrice could be just the sort of 24/7 attachment Chloe needed, especially during the next period of her life involving multiple moves before stabilising either in a new home or with rehabilitated parents.”

The second child Anna had scheduled was very different to Chloe….

“… a six‐year old African American boy called Jamal. He was the middle child. His father was a casualty in Afghanistan four years ago. Since then his mother had another child with a white American man, currently living in the same house. Jamal and his elder brother along with their younger half‐sister had all been removed from the family home. The two boys had been physically abused as a result of violent altercations between the boy’s mother and their stepfather. Jamal was of an independent nature, but couldn’t perform tasks independently. He would put clothes on backwards and shoes on the wrong feet, place excessive amounts of food on his plate or fill a bowl with milk when there was only a small amount of cereal. He demanded most things be how he wanted, using non‐verbal instructions, sometimes noises such as loud whining or screaming. He constantly sought attention by being disruptive, both verbally with noises, or physically by throwing and breaking objects. He is at his best in one on one situations, but dislikes the other person being distracted.”

Whilst Heather read through Anna’s biographies of Chloe and Jamal, she remembered John’s words from the night before, ‘focus on saving those most easily saved, paving the way for the more difficult’. She thought it was good they were not twelve years old like Lamont. Lamont would likely be one of the more ‘difficult’. Heather instinctively wanted to save every child, no matter how difficult, but John was correct. If the number of children saved was low in the current generation, collectively there would be little benefit for mankind. Heather new it was purely a numbers game. History had shown it only takes one or two power‐addicted narcissists or megalomaniacs to be in the right place at the right time and thousands if not millions of adults could be subordinated. John, like Phil and herself, believed sufficient numbers of adults who hadn’t ‘given up’ on their soul were needed.

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People needed their soul to dispel doubt over right and wrong, freeing them to hold strong convictions in opposition to those clearly in the wrong. Without the power of one’s soul, seeing wrongdoing is not always easy until hindsight reveals the indefensible damage. Without the soul, history’s lessons are never completely learnt. Heather knew all this and did agree with John, but a child in need was a child she had to care for.

Heather spent the next hour or so watching Lamont and could see hints of improvement. She was happy he was still being engaged by Beatrice and hadn’t revealed his new friend to anyone else. That was a huge positive. Heather didn’t feel like doing much, she felt lethargic. Jimmy and her spoke for a while, then she waited for Chloe. A pattern had developed from her work with Beatrice back home. Rachel would give Heather background on the children then she would guide Beatrice through the first meeting. Heather would then develop a plan for each child to help Beatrice set goals and assess the most appropriate methods she would use to reach those goals. Once completed, Beatrice did most of the work herself, learning all the time and adding to her memories for her emotion algorithms. Heather would watch Beatrice early on, until she was confident the plan was being adhered to. Sometimes she would randomly check conversation to assess if it was still appropriate. So far, Heather’s routine was working well. From Anna’s notes on Chloe, she could foresee Beatrice spending hours just providing company. A good thing Beatrice never tires or becomes bored, she thought. Jamal could be a little trickier. Maybe Beatrice could take his noises from intrusive to beautiful by harnessing them into song.

Jackie stuck her nose through the open doorway. “Feel like looking at some of those games?” she asked.

“Love to, pull up a chair.”

Jackie and Heather watched recordings of Beatrice’s games from Ficksburg. There was one which deeply affected Jackie. It was a young Lesotho woman from Rachel’s orphanage. Only fourteen years old she had been raped when she was twelve and disowned by her father a year later. Her mother had died of AIDS when she was six. With her one‐year old child she had reached out to Rachel for help. Beatrice took her through a simulation, talking to her as a friend whilst sitting on the edge of a stream feeding her baby. Jackie watched as Beatrice relieved her of the belief her mother died because of her, that she was cursed and her father’s friend who raped 594

Chapter 28 The Game her was punishing her for her mother’s death. Beatrice helped the young woman, who was still only a child herself, to understand her mother’s death came from the selfishness and ignorance of others who spread a virus, killing her mother and many other mother’s as well. It also killed women who weren’t mothers and children too. Beatrice explained how impossible it was for every person killed by AIDS to have someone responsible, someone who was cursed. Beatrice convinced her there was no such entity as a curse. It was something invented when the real reasons were unknown or incomprehensible without knowledge through education. She helped the young woman see her anger at her mother for leaving her and how she had turned that anger against herself, believing she was deserving of punishment. Beatrice was remarkable in turning the young woman away from her belief that her rape and the abandonment by her father were punishments. Beatrice nurtured her into seeing she did nothing wrong, there was no punishment and the friend of her father was suffering upset and anger himself. He had lost his soul and had believed in what he did because of the encouragement and sanctioning his culture provided. Beatrice explained how he needed to relieve his burden of upset by taking innocence away from another. His actions didn’t relieve anything, they only added to his anger and upset. Beatrice showed the young women that the man who raped her should be punished, but he was doing what those before had done and the cause for his actions came from the way his ancestors had dealt with their own upset and anger. Beatrice helped the young woman to forgive but not to accept. To see the actions of that man as wrong and not a punishment she deserved.

“Oh my”, said Jackie when it finished. “That was incredibly powerful ..., and touching at the same time. Beatrice is really good.”

Heather was disappointed by Jackie’s reaction. She sensed Jackie had eyes only for Beatrice and was blind to the plight of the girl for what it truly was. She didn’t know why she felt the way she did, but she felt resentment that people couldn’t see how bad it was in her country, especially people in wealthier countries. She let her frustration out on Jackie. “That story is repeated over and over in South Africa and other countries such as Lesotho. Most of the girls in Rachael’s orphanage have been raped, down to the age of six. Some have been raped more than once and others have been gang raped by as many as eight males. Some have HIV whilst others are waiting on blood tests to find out. There are little boys in her orphanage who have been raped as well. This is happening in townships throughout my country. You know what, it is beyond belief?”

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Jackie had been hit by a blast of Heather’s passion and her deep simmering anger. “Please don’t tell me anymore.”

Heather couldn’t stop there, feeling obligated to let it all out, “Not only is it fathers, uncles and brothers, but boys ten, twelve and as young as eight are raping these innocent young girls. The perpetrators are becoming younger each year.”

“Oh my. I really just had no idea.” Jackie was seriously shaken, wanting Heather to stop.

Heather couldn’t stop. The world needed to know what was happening in her country. “It is horrifying. South Africa has the highest incidence of rape in the world. Above ninety percent of cases are not reported, mostly out of fear of reprisal. Girls have a one in three chance of receiving a secondary school education but a one in two chance of being raped. If the perpetrator is under eighteen, they are charged and released. If the case ever makes court, they are often sent home or given a form of community service they hardly ever do. In court, the onus is on the victim, a child, to provide all the evidence. The police and social services freely admit they are losing the battle due to lack of finances, lack of transport and lack of people. It has to stop before a whole generation is lost.”

Jackie was distraught. “Please, Heather, no more…., it is too shocking.”

Heather had achieved the reaction she needed. She simmered inside a little longer then calmed down. She admitted to herself she felt resentment towards Jackie because in her eyes, Jackie represented those people living their happy lives in wealthy countries without knowing what people in South Africa are subjected to. Most of them don’t want to know and those who do know, don’t want to think about it, they simply let their denial take over. Heather knows she must help Beatrice to learn and to do that, she must do what she is doing in America, but she finds it difficult to stop thinking that every three minutes in South Africa a beautiful young girl is raped. She reminded herself that countries like America needed to be strong and their people needed to be guided back to their soul if her country was to have any chance of surviving. She had to think of America first. She had felt resentment but now she was upset with herself for letting that resentment out on Jackie.

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“I’m sorry. I had no right to dump all that onto you. I really am sorry” Jackie had regained her composure and smiled back at Heather, accepting her apology. She thought about the things Heather just said and began to understand her, realizing just how much she needed to share. Jackie thought Heather’s passion must make her feel so alone in the world because so few others could have the empathy and love that made Heather who she is.

Heather placed her hand on Jackie’s arm, giving it a little squeeze. “I am sorry, I can see you are starting to understand and I thank you for that. I really do. Let’s talk about Beatrice”, she suggested, changing the direction of the conversation.

“Yes, that would be better.” Jackie refocused on the game she just watched, feeling awkward, she asked, “How does Beatrice do it? How does she gain their trust? I don’t think I know anyone who could have taken that poor girl through that”, she said.

“Beatrice is innocence personified. She is totally devoid of corruption by any human foibles. If a woman was counselling the girl there would be a voice inside that woman saying, ‘we women know our role, this is one of the parts we play for men’. For ten thousand years it has been a patriarchal world. Women have grown up brainwashed into believing they have a role and that role involves being subordinate to men. It is even stronger in the culture of Lesothians. It may not be law, but it is acceptable to beat women and treat them as chattel.”

Jackie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It’s actually like that? Men can violate women and beat them with impunity?”

“Not within the law, but it is a long process to convict a man for these things which gives scope for people, such as the victim, the police, witnesses, social services and judges involved at each step to be influenced by tradition. Tradition creates reluctance to proceed when administering the law. Black people don’t have respect for white man’s laws. Our laws are ingrained in us. Black people have rejection of the laws ingrained in them. They have had their ways for many more centuries than they have had our ways. Sometimes we forget that so many black South Africans resented white South Africans ruling by their laws for all those years apartheid existed. You can’t expect them to change completely in a short thirty years.”

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“I’m beginning to get the picture”, Jackie said, knowing she still had so much to learn and understand. “Do you want to keep going?”, she asked.

Heather wasn’t following Jackie. She gave Jackie a slightly confused look.

“You were going to say something else before I interrupted”, explained Jackie.

“I was? No, I think that was it…, I don’t need to say anymore.”

“Please finish. You were talking about why men do these horrible things and you mentioned counselling for the victims. I would like to hear more of your thoughts”, said Jackie sincerely. After all, how people counselled each other was of interest to Jackie.

“Ok, I think I was going to explain that the reason why men behave this way, treating women and girls, or should I say, all children, is not only because they are lost without their souls, but because they are incredibly egocentric. They can only see their place in the world and what they need to feed that egocentricity, they take. People may try to stop them but satisfying the need to have, to make themselves feel better…, they simply cannot be stopped. The women…, they are less egocentric, many are actually quite soul‐centric and they bow down to men’s self‐ belief, believing they must deserve acts such as that endured by the young woman in the game you watched. It’s brainwashing. That’s all it is. The women have been brainwashed to abide by cultural beliefs. And who was responsible for those cultural beliefs? Males over many generations and a long time ago. African people where corrupted, cleaved from their souls, way before white man moved in. I firmly believe the patriarchal African society goes back thousands of years.”

Jackie was enthralled by Heather’s story and her frankness. She settled back into her chair to listen.

“Women are brainwashed here in America as well. Look at how women dress, look at the advertising, the magazines, the stuff in the shops. Women have been trained to perform a role, training that goes back and back and back. It is no less or more than in Africa, just different expectations. Women in societies like America are expected to make men feel better, reduce their pain and upset by looking attractive, being seductive and providing ‘comfort’. African women provide ‘comfort’ too, but that is secondary to being abused and beaten. Men try to relieve their anger and upset by releasing it onto our women in a more violent way than 598

Chapter 28 The Game her in America. Although, it seems like violence against women has always been part of American culture as well.”

“On the rise…, it’s on the rise as well.”

“That doesn’t surprise me”, quipped Heather.

“Tell me about the counselling for women. You said a female councillor has a voice in their head telling them this is what women are supposed to do. I think you said, ‘it’s been their role forever’.”

“Yes, that’s how it is. They try to ignore the little voice but…, it’s pretty much impossible. This is why Beatrice can do what she does. The counsellor is simply unable to be as sincere and truthful as Beatrice. Beatrice knows all about the culture thing but has no lingering legacy telling her she should abide by it. Unlike the counsellor, there is not the slightest wavering of Beatrice’s commitment, no hint in her voice that what she is saying is what she is taught to say whilst thinking quite the opposite. None of that happens with Beatrice.”

“I see”, said Jackie, trying not to use her psychologist’s voice. “A girl beaten and raped is never going to look at Beatrice and say, ‘Wait on, you think I’m wrong. You think I deserved this. You think he should be allowed to do what he did to me. You’re no better than him’.”

“Exactly.” Heather clapped a few times.

Jackie was captivated by this woman sitting beside her. She could see everything for what it truly was. “If a male counsellor…?”, she asked

“If a male counselled the young woman…, well, that could have disaster written all over it. He would need to fight back thoughts of her being lower than men. He would need to purge himself of all thoughts of her role being pre‐ordained and she was fulfilling it. He may not consciously think of the young woman as inferior. But instinctively he sees her as less than the male who perpetrated the rape. No matter how much he tried to deny that feeling, it would never leave him. It would discolour every good thing he tried to say in helping the victim. Phil would say the cultural inheritance would pervade his inner space, challenging him to push it back. The more he tried the more those thoughts would fight back, digging in and staking a claim in his inner space. Outwardly he would portray a belief she didn’t deserve to

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Chapter 28 The Game be raped. But his inner space would have his own personal thoughts about the need for males to rape. He may try to rise above those thoughts and may even feel disgusted with himself for having such beliefs. But he would also be fighting hard against his deep sense of it being the truth. When the male counsellor looks at the female victim and sees her as a woman, he may even be troubled by feelings of envy for the rapist. I know it sounds macabre, but these are the deep, deep thoughts and emotions within. It’s the ‘habitual colouring’, another of Phil’s terms, of the competitive drive in pursuit of power. By dominating women, men feel powerful and the upset and anger at having lost their soul is fleetingly soothed. The male councillor fears losing this mechanism of relief, which is why he still has an unshakeable respect for his ancestral culture. It’s a really heady cocktail when you can spare the time to think about it deeply. The male councillor probably respects the ancestral ways because he has his moments and he knows, he may one day need to beat and rape a woman. He doesn’t want to think about it, but over yonder in the background of his inner space you can see that thought sitting quietly by itself.”

Jackie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She tried to imagine listening to a conversation between Phil and Heather. She thought that would be an experience worth having. “We’re lucky Beatrice is a woman”, she said.

“Yep, you know what…, I think she truly sees herself as a woman.”

Jackie had heard Phil talk about the anger and upset people carried at giving up their soul during adolescence. Something she had wrangled with for weeks. Since then she had become more receptive to the concept of ‘giving up’. She wondered if Heather could give her more certainty, take her across the line. “Heather, do you believe the unacceptable behaviour of men, particularly the black African men is entirely due to the corruption of their soul during adolescence?”

“Definitely. But I know why you’re asking. You think it could be down to the oppression the black people have experienced since white man arrived?”

“Not just that, but the gender inequality in Europe at the time of colonisation was well advanced. Colonisation was a very patriarchal process. The white colonisers were almost totally males. When it came to politics and trade they preferred to deal with fellow males amongst the indigenous people. Surely this undermined any pre‐

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Chapter 28 The Game existing patrilineal system. Women lost their influence and power when the patriarchal colonists arrived.”, suggested Jackie.

Heather was surprised by Jackie’s comments. She may have misjudged her earlier.

“Colonialism definitely impacted gender equality negatively. Not all African indigenous societies were patrilineal. We don’t really know the extent of gender equality in those that were and we don’t know the prevalence of such societies. It was variable. I would like to think African societies, pre‐colonisation were innocent and not patriarchal, but surviving ancestral traditions would say otherwise.”

Jackie believed the corruption of indigenous societies by colonialism was possibly more responsible for current gender inequality and the present‐day abhorrent raping and physical abuse of women in Heather’s country than other contributing factors. She had to find out how Heather apportioned cause between colonialism and the loss of innocence during Phil’s adolescent ‘giving up’ of the soul.

“Can you help me out here? Where does the soul corruption fit in?”, Jackie asked.

“Easy to explain”, said Heather confidently. “If the souls of the colonists weren’t corrupted, they probably wouldn’t have colonised. The black people would have been respected. The world would have been very different. But, to answer the question you may actually be asking, if the black people were all innocent and without any corruption of their souls? Then competition accompanying colonisation definitely caused increased alienation of souls. The tribes of pre‐ colonised sub‐Saharan Africa were mostly nomadic or semi‐nomadic. I would expect the more nomadic the more innocent. But there was always competition between tribes. This in itself would have had a corrupting effect on the conscious mind/soul relationship. There doesn’t appear to have been tribes sufficiently isolated from all the others. There were plenty of tribal disputes, killings and mayhem. I’ve read the books where African people before colonisation are presented as far more innocent than after colonisation. I feel there is a bit of romanticism involved. Possibly a projection of guilt during the recent apology phase. Or it may even be a convenient premise for the story that followed.”

“What we may be seeing today, is the exacerbation of the underlying upset everyone has to contend with when they lose that wonderful selfless ideal world. There is little doubt the slavery and apartheid eras have added more layers of pain

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Chapter 28 The Game to that existing suffering. This is why people who are treated poorly, pushed into a corner…, well, they will do worse things than if they weren’t. There competitiveness becomes necessarily stronger. If those same people were able to stay true to their souls, stay cooperative, they would cope much better with hardships. They would see the truth about their oppressors and have compassion. They may even be able to influence their oppressors to ease up, tolerate and accept. Then it comes down to how corrupted the oppressors are.”

“I wonder if that contributed to slavery?” Jackie asked herself aloud.

Heather understood what Jackie was thinking. “It is likely the black people were less affected by giving up their souls than the whites from Europe and the Americas of that time. Being more cooperative than their captors, they were essentially easy targets. Exactly the same can be said of children today. They are easy targets for adults. That’s why, as John said, Beatrice needs to save as many children as possible, as quickly as possible.”

“I agree. Do you think she’s still progressing?”

“Definitely. We need her to have endless numbers of sessions like the one we just watched. Beatrice is building her emotion algorithms with every session, becoming better and better at recognising emotions. I have watched her create responses across the complete spectrum of human emotion and I assure you, she is incredibly dynamic. Us humans need to clear out one emotion before we can have another. Sometimes we can flip in an instant, but generally not. Beatrice can let her ‘empathetic emotional response’, as she calls it, going from on to off in an instant. You should see her with a few children who are each experiencing a different emotion. Going from one child to the next she instantly adjusts. Just unbelievable. I know you feel you witnessed something special in that game, and you did, but that was one child…., and it was six days ago.”

Heather’s reminder of John’s call for expediency at the end of his speech last night, directed Jackie to seeing only one available option. “We need to have this game out there for anyone, child or adult, everyone.”

“I agree. And we need it out there tomorrow”, said Heather.

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“Heather, I know I reacted poorly earlier. I’m sorry.”

Heather acknowledged the apology but dismissed the incident. It was already forgotten.

“Something you said has stayed with me. You said the boys who rape are getting younger each year. Why is that?”

Again, Heather felt awkward for misjudging Jackie. She was obviously listening much more than she had realised at the time. “Social conditions are continually deteriorating and the adult world is deeply affecting children, especially boys at earlier ages and with more severity. Children no longer have normal childhoods. They have adult childhoods where they cannot differentiate between their actions as to whether it is child play or adult behaviour. For many, rape is play, saying they believe it is ok to do and that the girls enjoy it.”

Jackie was horrified. The image of young boys genuinely believing raping and abusing young girls was play played out in her mind against her wishes. She thought their souls must surely must be corrupted if their moral compass was unable to intervene.

“I understand Phil’s passion now”, she said. “I’m trying not to let my imagination take me to places I don’t want to be, but that is just horrific. Young boys naively doing adult crimes, thinking it is just a child’s game.” Jackie stood up about to go. “Again, I’m sorry for not seeing what I should have been seeing all along. It really does bring tears to my eyes and I thought I had experienced most things in my working life.” Jackie started to head off in search of Hamish.

“Just before you go, Anna sent notes for two more children she will be giving Beatrice today.” Heather brought up the notes to show Jackie, who quickly scanned Chloe’s then Jamal’s.

“Beatrice is going to enjoy Chloe”, she said. “Jamal might be a little more difficult.”

“I had an idea when I read Jamal’s”, Heather said. She had revisited her earlier thought whilst Jackie was reading the notes.

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“Go on, what was your idea?” asked Jackie still preoccupied with the notes. “Hang on a tick. Notice these two and Lamont are all Family Services…, probably nothing, sorry, you had an idea?”

“What do you think about having Beatrice trained to sing? Professionally…, like a real singer”, suggested Heather.

“Why?”, asked Jackie, puzzled by the suggestion.

“To sing to the children is one reason, but better than that, she could teach children to sing.” The idea was really just a passing thought in Heather’s mind, but just then it suddenly sprang to life. She imagined the benefits and became much more excited.

“I see where you’re heading”, said Jackie, still bouncing the idea around. “It would give her another tool in her interactions with children. Music! Why didn’t anyone think of that sooner?” Jackie became taken by the idea. “That’s brilliant…, and I think I know just the person who could start her on the path to being the first artificial intelligence opera singer.”

They both laughed at the idea, not because it was silly, but because it opened up a new world of possibilities.

“Come with me”, Jackie said and both women headed into the office two down. Hamish’s office which Jackie borrowed sometimes. She searched through her clients and found the name she knew too well. She was about to make the call, but hesitated first.

“His name is David Kaplan. He is a client of mine and has been for many years. He’s in his sixties and hasn’t coached for nearly a decade after his partner, I forget his name, died from hepatitis or pneumonia, not sure which. He could do with someone to talk to but he just …, I shouldn’t say…”

“I understand, confidentiality”

“Yes, let’s say he has never been able to enjoy the company of others since. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect”, Heather agreed.

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“Alright, I’ll see if he’s there.” Jackie presses the call button. “He doesn’t go out much, just the shops and the synagogue.”

David comes up on her screen, “Hello Jackie”, he says in a loud mellow baritone voice.

“Hi David, doing well?”, she asks.

“I am indeed. I hope you haven’t rung to cancel our appointment next week?”, he said jokingly.

Jackie played along. “No not at all, wouldn’t dare do that to you, my favourite client.”

“Too kind. What can I do for you?”, David asked.

“I am going to ask you the most bizarre question you will have heard during your long illustrious life”, Jackie said.

“It will need to be off the scale of bizarre if you think it’s something I haven’t been asked before”, returned David.

“I see your sitting down, which is good. Maybe you should lie down …, on the floor perhaps. Just so you can’t fall any further when I ask you.”

David laughed a mock hearty laugh, “Ok, you’ve wet my interest, or is it appetite? Doesn’t matter which. Ask away. I’m ready for anything.”

“Before I ask, I would like you to meet a friend. Her name is Beatrice and I assure you that she can’t bite.” Jackie winced inside. She may have jumped into this too quickly. She hadn’t thought of possible adverse reactions to David. Too late now, she thought.

David’s demeanour altered a little. “Ok, but you know how I am with people.”

“David, I assure you this person will be way outside of any of your areas of concern. Actually, I am so confident you will like her that I believe she will become your best friend.”

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“I think you may have had a few too many of those Thanksgiving nips. But I am curious now. Beatrice you say?”, David said, still a little unsure.

“That’s right”

“Ok, introduce me to Beatrice then.” David said.

“Beatrice, you’re on”, said Jackie. At David’s end was a split screen with Beatrice and Jackie. David involuntarily pulled back from his screen at the sight of someone new, someone he wasn’t familiar with.

“David, meet Beatrice, Beatrice meet David Kaplan.”

“Hello Beatrice.”

“Hello David.”

“Now before you two start chatting, I want to tell you something about Beatrice and then I will put the bizarre proposition to you. Does that work for you, David?”

“Works for me, Jackie.” David was trying to be confident for Jackie.

Beatrice was nearly motionless with a slight but warm smile. “Beatrice is not your typical young Bostonian woman. She is very special.” Jackie really feared the worse. “David, this is going to shock you so please stay calm. Beatrice is artificial intelligence…, you know, like those calls to the bank and you hear a robot asking you questions….”

Jackie waited for David. He was staring at Beatrice, wondering what to say.

“Can she talk?”, he asked, forgetting she had already greeted him.

“Yes, I can David. You have a very interesting room. I can see memorabilia in many places. I guess that comes with the wonderful career you have pursued. I do believe you have taught some brilliant singers, and you have also achieved recognition as a singer in your own right. Am I correct about that?”

David was stunned. Jackie hoped it hadn’t been too long since his last stress test. “She can talk”, he mumbled.

“Yes David, I can talk. However, there is something you can do that I cannot.” 606

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“What would that be?”, David slowly asked. Sitting as far back from the screen as possible, he had the appearance of a person fearing something might jump out of the screen at any moment.

“Sing”, said Beatrice, “How would you like to be the first person to teach a computer to sing. I learn just like a person. You can teach me in just the same way you taught those amazing singers in the past. The only difference is, I will not have tantrums, and I will not drink all of your vodka.”

Focussing his thoughts on the novel idea of teaching a computer to sing, lowered his fear and allowed David to gather himself again.

“I really don’t know…, I haven’t taught anyone for years”, David said, unsure of what Jackie’s intentions were with such a request.

Beatrice kept talking. Experience had told her most people overcome their surprise if she keeps them occupied listening to her voice and watching her eyes. “David, you never need to open your front door to let me in, I will disappear instantly when you ask me to and return just as quickly if you call me. Also, I will not lock myself in your bathroom crying because I cannot hit the notes you ask.” Beatrice added a touch of melodrama to her last piece of imagery by raising her hand to the side of her face and tilting her head as a prima donna would. But she never broke eye contact with David, all the time conveying sincerity and trust through her eyes.

Jackie thought it was time she spoke. “David, I need to tell you something about Beatrice. We have just started to introduce Beatrice to clients. She is someone to talk to who will provide company without any expectation or judgement. She can even tell jokes.”

“I’m still not sure about this, Jackie”, David said, his hands becoming fidgety again.

“I know, it is a lot to hit you with all at once. Normally I would introduce a client to Beatrice in my consulting rooms, but we have known each other for a very long time….” Jackie decided to take another approach. “What do you think of this for an idea? You let Beatrice be company for you, totally at your discretion…, and you can come and see me whenever you feel you need to. I’ll waive the session charge. It’s up to you whether or not you teach Beatrice to sing.”

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David was more at ease looking at Jackie and hearing her voice. Her voice always soothed him. He thought about what she was saying, realising he had complete control. Like Beatrice had said, she would disappear if he told her to go. He was starting to see there would be no harm in doing what Jackie was asking. He trusted Jackie.

“Well, if you put it that way…, How about we see how it goes for a few days?”, suggested David, “and I will see you on Wednesday to let you know.”

“Good, that’s really good to hear. I will set Beatrice up for you, just keep an eye on your emails.” Jackie advised David.

David looked at Beatrice, she’s a nice enough young lady, he thought. “I do believe we will see each other again soon”, he said.

“Any time that suits you”, said Beatrice. “I mean absolutely any time, literally. I do not need sleep.”

“Thank you, David. Talk soon, bye”, Jackie signed off.

“Do you think he will?”, Heather asked.

“Teach Beatrice to sing?” Jackie asked, to which Heather nodded. “Not sure, but I think he will when he sees he has nothing to fear. I know he desires to be able to teach again. It was his life. It’s not the singing, but the fear of people which has grown since he closed down after his partner died. I feel confident he’ll be ok.”

“How about we find Hamish?”, Jackie said with renewed endeavour.

Just at that moment Heather’s cell received a message. It was time for Chloe. “It’s Anna with Chloe, I’ll have to leave you to find Hamish without me.”

“Good, hope Jamal is Anna’s next appointment so you aren’t kept waiting all day”, Jackie said before heading toward the kitchen where Hamish and Vinnie were silently drinking coffee.

Jackie exchanged greetings as she topped her coffee up. She sat down with the boys who were staring at magazines, selected from what was once a pile, now scattered across the table.

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“Big night” she said.

“Epic”, Vinnie replied.

“Pretty amazing”, added Hamish.

The three sipped their coffees in silence.

“Anyone up for a question?” Jackie asked

“Vinnie”, Hamish said without looking up.

“Thanks”, said Vinnie, also without looking up.

Jackie decided to give it go. “Heather and I would like to know if either of you could give us an indication for when Beatrice’s game could be ready for the net?”

Vinnie, being most responsible for net security felt obliged to answer. “Maybe three or four weeks from my side. Hamish said it needs more development first. He says it works grand on a local platform but buggy if there are more than five or six users. Delays and stuff like that. We don’t know, really. Probably not until a month or two into next year.”

“Damn”, Jackie said, disappointed.

“We’re doin’ our best”, said Hamish, apologetically.

“I know, I know. You guys are great. Thanks”, Jackie said reassuringly, hiding her frustration. John wanted to ramp up Beatrice’s rollout, but she didn’t know where to turn to next. The psychologist route was going to be slow and she suspected it would be beset with ideological and ethical issues before a head of steam could be reached.

“The ‘Gov needs to help us”, said Vinnie.

The weather was easing as the day progressed. The sun was making belated but brief appearances through the grey clouds. With John as their guide and Patsy their mascot, Heather and Jackie set off on a tour of the treehouses. Jackie wasn’t a bike rider, having grown up in the poorer end of Boston, her family hadn’t the 609

Chapter 28 The Game opportunities to escape into the surrounding countryside. The contrast between the two women couldn’t be more apparent than at that moment. Heather relishing the chance to jump onto a quad bike, whilst Jackie gingerly climbed on behind John. Riding a quad bike along the slippery path was second nature for a woman who had spent her life on a farm. Jackie caught occasional glimpses over her shoulder. She was impressed by Heather’s mastery, especially as the trail started to climb. Jackie was developing immense admiration for this woman from South Africa. Heather was equally at home steering her bike amongst the trees as she was in front of a computer teaching Beatrice to nurture children. Jackie’s deepest admiration was reserved for the care and empathy she had for people, especially children she had never met and was unlikely to ever meet. Almost single handed, she had taught Beatrice how to nurture children back to their souls.

The first treehouse was very close to habitable. Entry was across a short bridge from the higher ground to the rear. Heather stopped short of the bridge and watched as John rode across the bridge, into an open area separating the two‐bedroom wings of the treehouse. He had just enough room to climb from his bike. He waved to Heather to join him. She thought if John could do it, so could she.

“It’s a tight squeeze”, she said to John after removing her helmet.

“After a couple of more times you’ll be threading the needle blindfolded”, he said encouragingly.

They entered the house through a glass filled door and into the main living area. Patsy ran ahead, her soon‐to‐be‐clipped nails clattering on the floor as she jumped around with excitement. The sun had retreated behind the clouds but this didn’t prevent Heather and Jackie from commenting on the amount of light streaming into the spacious room. Above the entry door and directly below the highest part of the ceiling was the mezzanine floor. The pitched roof ran from side to side, creating gables at either ends of the treehouse. The roof pitch was steep, climbing rapidly upwards from the front of the treehouse. The light came from everywhere. Two large dormer windows were high up in the roof above. Then there were the two enormous floor‐to‐ceiling picture windows filling most of the front wall. To their right was the kitchen. Above the kitchen sink was another decent sized window.

The views through the front windows were magnificent. Jackie could see beyond the tree tops to the mountains thirty miles away. That was where the closest ski

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John had followed Jackie’ eyes and noticed her trepidation. “They can be opened at the press of a button to let the summer heat out”, John said. “I haven’t been able to test the view through them yet.”

“It would have to be breathtaking, because the views from here are stunning”, said Jackie. “Do you think the lake would be visible?”

“I asked one of the roofers if he could see the lake and he gave me a nod.” John mentally checked his directions. “But the lake is more that way”, John said pointing in the direction of the kitchen window.

Heather was in the kitchen, open plan with a bench across the side wall under the window and a narrow island. Missing were the bench tops and cupboard fronts, but the hob and oven were in place. She considered it to be modest compared to her spacious farm kitchen back home, but it was more than adequate. Everything one would need appeared to be in place.

John was excited watching Jackie and Heather walking, looking and touching. “The outside is reclaimed cedar boards and the ceiling and walls are all pine. The floor is hardwood, just needs sanding and sealing. Walls and roof came are prefabricated modules made near Albany. It only took three days to erect. In just over a week it went from a bare deck to water tight”, he said with some pride.

“I like the wood burner” Heather said. “Where does the door next to it go?

“Hah, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask.” John walked over and opened the door. A narrow balcony extended along the side of the treehouse before wrapping around the rear. “We made sure the roof extended out over this balcony so the firewood could be stored against the wall.” The railings are due to be installed in the next few days.

“What’s that big hole in the end of the balcony for?” Jackie asked.

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“Fireman’s pole” John said with a grin.

“Let me see.” Heather braved a few steps out and looked down, dreading ever having to use the pole, it was an awfully long way to the ground below.

John pointed at two extra tall poles half way along the balcony edge. “Those are for the ropes. For the suspended walkway through the treetops. You’ll be able to walk between the houses. For those times you run out of milk”, he laughed.

“You can forget that”, Jackie said. Turning to Heather, “That’s all yours”, she said as she turned away from the open door. Jackie had enough of John’s follies. She could see he was satisfying his inner child’s need for adventure.

“Where are the bedrooms”, asked Heather.

“Through those doors”, John said pointing to the two doors either side of where they had entered. He turned and headed towards the kitchen. “There are two more directly above, but we’re waiting on the stairs to arrive.”

Heather and Jackie poked their heads into the first bedroom. There were the usual “Oohs and “I like that” comments. A few minutes later they came out of the second bedroom and headed towards John.

“Step back here, I want to show you something”, he said, asking them to join him near the front window, “This end of the mezzanine above the kitchen will have frosted glass up to where the railing starts. That will be the bathroom and toilet servicing the two upstairs bedrooms. Without the ensuites, they are bigger than the bedrooms below but loose head height at rear.”

“The roof?”, Jackie asked. Looking for confirmation for the loss of head height.

“Yeah, needed to be steep. But there’s a nice dormer window in each. Great view looking out at the mountains. I forgot to mention…, there is a bath in that mezzanine bathroom with a window at the foot of the bath. That’s where you would have your view of the lake.” John looked around, checking if he had covered everything, then he remembered the office. “At the other end of the mezzanine…”, he turns toward the wood burner end of the house, “…there’s an office with shelving and a porthole window, all close enough to the flu of the wood burner to keep very warm.”

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Jackie thought it could easily be a luxury villa in the forests of Sweden. It wasn’t too much smaller than her house in Boston, which only had two bedrooms. What this treehouse sacrificed in size, it made up with ambiance, views and romance. She could imagine herself wanting to live here with John. Wake up to the morning sun streaming through the tree tops. Watch the birds fly from branch to branch. “I would even learn to ride a quad”, she said as she ran her hand along the smooth timber frame of the picture window.

Heather was missing Jimmy. She walked around the treehouse a few more times, picturing the colour added by furnishings and the summer green of the trees ushered in through every window. Heather could see herself sitting at the table with her laptop, warm and toasty from the wood burner, the kettle on and the trees filled with snow. “I’ll need Thenjiwe here…, very soon”, she thought.

It was late morning by the time they reversed their quad bikes across the narrow bridge and onto the ridge. It took Heather a few attempts but she was determined to prove she still had the skills she learnt twenty years ago when her parents first acquired quads for their farm. John traversed the bridge more easily, having practised over the past week. They set off, with John in the lead. It was the turn of the forests to be explored before heading to the farm Thomas and Adel had made their home.

The forest was magical to Heather. John showed her the older trees he had shown Phil. It was an enchanting experience. Back home there wasn’t an abundance of trees where she lived, certainly not tall pines, birch and maple like those on John’s property. It was in the darkened depths of the forest and whilst touching the rough bark of the massive pine that she understood why Phil had been to compelled to relate his story of the forest a number of times. It was a long way from looking over grassy and farmed fields to the shimmering kranz in the distance. The smells were so very different as well. It all felt very close, at once both calming and thrilling. Standing close to one of the largest trees, she looked skyward and couldn’t see the top of the tree. Her head became giddy as she imagined the tree climbing higher and higher. ‘Nothing in Ficksburg was this tall’, she thought.

Arriving at the farm she instantly felt right at home. It was a very different farm to back home, but in her mind, it was still a farm. Thomas and Adel joined them as John showed Heather aspects of the farm which were of greater interest to her than

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The day was cold and those periods when the sun broke through were few. Heather couldn’t feel much warmth from the sun when it did. Thomas took her into the high tunnels where warmer climate fruits, berries, tomatoes and cucumbers were all ready for harvest. Heather kept saying, “Unbelievable” with every new discovery. She had read about this way of farming in the past, but more so of late following Phil’s descriptions of John’s property. She felt the soil, and it was warm compared to the soil outside. The humidity inside the high tunnels, combined with the higher temperature became too much. She shed her parka and instantly felt more comfortable. “This is where I’ll come when I’m missing home”, she thought.

Heather moved from plant to plant, inspecting the size and quality, tasting those Adel proudly picked. It was Nirvana for the farmer in Heather. Back in South Africa they had good soils and a great climate and she had learnt from an early age how to read the annual cycle of weather, knowing when to plant, when to water and how to pick the best time to harvest. It was all according to daytime and night time temperatures, daily hours of sunshine and the effect of wind, soil moisture and humidity. Like most good farmers, it was in her blood, part of the DNA, they would say. Thomas and Adel’s farm showed her a whole new way of farming. They could turn the humidity up or down as they did the temperature, increase yields beyond anything achievable in open fields and minimise water use by maximising efficiency. They could even regulate the sunlight to bring on ripening. Heather imagined the different produce she could grow on her farm if Jimmy and her adopted similar techniques.

John took Heather and Jackie to visit his puppies, now over two months old. They had all been given names. Digby and Shadow were his favourites, then there was Tigger, Opal and Scruffy. The sixth puppy which he had named Thelmo, had found a good home, most likely living under a different name. Thomas had found Thelmo’s new owner through friends at the markets. John had decided to keep Digby and Shadow. Shadow was the puppy Phil had taken a liking to, which was why John had decided to keep both. When he told Heather about Phil secretly visiting the barn every other day to play with the puppies, especially Shadow, she wished she could take his puppy back to the farm. Running her hand over Shadow’s head and feeling her soft floppy ears she whispered, “Emma would love you”.

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The tour completed, it was time to return to Thomas and Adel’s farmhouse for lunch. Heather was shown through the house whilst answering questions from Adel and Jackie about life back in South Africa. When Adel led the way through the door into the courtyard, Heather stopped chatting. She was expecting the cold, but was surprised how very warm it was. There was an abundance of tropical plants growing tall and creating their own canopy. She then noticed the exquisite Mexican fountain. The walls were roughly plastered and washed with the earthy tones she had seen in travel photos of Mexico.

Jackie and John nonchalantly made their way through the door and towards the table, secretly watching Heather’s eyes and her reactions. Her face was a picture of amazement, like a child whose mother had led her by the hand into a magical toy shop. Then told her to open her eyes. Heather tried to absorb her surroundings and make sense of where she was. it was unexpected, fascinating and definitely evocative all at the same time. She looked at Jackie, but there was nothing unusual there, John appeared equally preoccupied with his own thoughts. But then she caught him taking a sneaky peak in her direction. Jackie did the same.

“Hey guys, this is amazing. Please don’t pretend. You both knew I would be freaked by this”, she said, using words she had picked up since arriving in America.

They all started to laugh. It truly was an experience for the senses. Thomas had secured the high tunnels a month or so before and now the courtyard was fully enclosed. The geothermal heating was doing a fine job. It was like stepping into a really special traditional Mexican courtyard.

Lunch was a combination of a few of Adel’s Mexican favourites and some specialties from Narda. It was delicious as always. During the meal Heather found herself lost in a holiday time warp, somewhere far from her home in South Africa. The sudden changes she had moved through in the past week became compressed into a kind of fantasy travel experience in her mind. It started with Phil’s café in downtown Ficksburg before luxuriating in first class on her way to Boston with its skyline and shops full of things Heather never knew existed. Two days later she was freezing on the veranda of a house in Upstate New York, surrounded by old world charm and tall pine trees. Then she stepped from the chilled air into John’s beautifully warm and well‐preserved house. Then she had a sense of floating in the flickering light of the open fire as she glided across the room in a traditional African dress. She remembered seeing Jimmy’s lovely face, but he was so far away. It seemed like 615

Chapter 28 The Game minutes ago she had spread her arms around very old trees, the like she had never seen before and this was after exploring an extraordinary treehouse, which she was destined to live in. Squeezed in somewhere was an immaculate and futuristic farm, before being transported into a magical and somewhat sensual Mexican courtyard, eating authentic Mexican food amongst columns, arches and windows partially covered or obscured by tropical plants, vines and brightly coloured flowers, all of which looked as real as any hacienda she could ever imagine. For the briefest of moments, she felt totally lost in her lucid dream, she had no idea where she was. It unnerved her a little as she shook herself free.

Near the end of lunch, when Adel and Thomas were back and forth from the kitchen, Jackie and Heather engaged John in a discussion regarding Hamish’s game.

“I agree the psychology route will be slow, but it gives Beatrice credibility”, argued John.

“Do we need credibility?” countered Heather. “Who do we require credibility with?”, she added.

John considered Heather’s questions. “I don’t know. I suppose I have been thinking inside the box, too concerned about legitimacy. Credibility with whom? …. I guess credibility is just a piece of nothing, when I think about it.”

Jackie weighed in again. “We should be more results oriented. You said at the end of your Thanksgiving speech that we should focus on those children who will take the least effort to save. To stop them ‘giving up’.”

Jackie didn’t realize at first, but she had just spoken of ‘giving up’ without first questioning if it was real.

“The psychology route will always be children who are most damaged. The children you alluded to won’t be found in the waiting rooms of psychologists and psychiatrists. They are the ones who will talk with Beatrice as they prepare for school, between classes and as they walk home.”

“Why would they if their lives are happy enough. If they are without the problems of those seeking counselling. They have loads of computer games to play. Why Beatrice?”, John asked.

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Heather knew the answer from her experiences in the café. She brought her beautiful voice to the fore and commenced unfolding her answer.

“All children will want to play the game. They are naturally curious and Hamish’s game, more than any computer game, channels curiosity. Bongi showed me computer games and they are more about winning than curiosity.”

She stood up, stretched her legs a little. Standing behind her chair and with both hands on holding the back of the chair, she leant forward, looking directly into John’s eyes.

“Hamish’s game taps into the growing awareness and developing intellect of the child. …. Much more than that…, it taps into the internal struggle between their soul and the adult world.”

Heather kept talking, as she slowly seated herself. Never breaking eye contact with John.

“This game is where all those questions they wrangle with can be answered. This is the whole point. Answering those questions in favour of the soul is our way of restraining the adult world from corrupting the child.”

She kept herself very still, giving John time to process what he just heard.

“Parents, teachers and schoolfriends…, brothers and sisters. …. Children never ask them the questions of so much importance to themselves. They only feel safe asking Beatrice. None of them could provide the answers anyway. Beatrice is far more advanced than any of those people. Her intuition is off the charts. She can determine what questions are in a child’s mind after only a few minutes of conversation. If those questions do manage to escape her…., need I say…., she has the child ask them in the same way a child shares their deepest secrets with Oscar, their pet retriever.”

Jackie was hypnotised by Heather. Her mind was blank, not thinking, not silently encouraging Heather to say this or to say that. She was just listening.

“This game will pull everyone in, children and adults. Beatrice will take adults on journeys, subtly revealing how their words and actions corrupt and destroy children’s childhoods. Once they start seeing what Beatrice will show them, she will

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Chapter 28 The Game sooth their inevitable shock. Parents won’t turn away fractured and embarrassed. Not at all. She will have them wanting to know more and more. Beatrice will grow their empathy. They will learn how to love and nurture children again. Eventually they will love and nurture each other. Tenderness and caring will return.”

Heather relaxed, changing to a deeper voice.

“I can still hear Phil’s words, ‘when this thing goes viral, John had better have the trucks queued up for miles. Beatrice will need hardware like you wouldn’t believe’.”

Jackie’s mouth was slightly ajar. Her mind switched back into gear. Her first thought was, “How does she deliver such passion, yet so gently, reaching deep inside one’s heart with the softest most comforting of hands”.

John knew Heather was right. “What do I need to do?” he asked

“Help the boys make the game ready for the internet”, said Jackie.

“And order those trucks”, said Heather, with a hand on John’s arm, reaching deeply within him with her light blue eyes. “Lots of them.”

Thomas and Adel had been standing behind Heather, over by the door, holding trays of Narda’s Argentinian pastries. They had seen the look on John and Jackie’s faces as Heather spoke. They had stopped Something Heather had said made the flickering light in Thomas’s mind suddenly shine more brightly than it had ever done. It finally clicked into place and now it all made sense. He had remembered Phil talk about child abuse on that very first day. He had never forgotten him saying the child’s instinctive sense of right and wrong gives way to the self‐assured adult, believing the adult to be correct. He had remembered it because Adel had whispered into his ear, “Don’t do wrong things in front of my boys. They think you right, because you their father and you big and strong so they always think you right.” He just knew remembering that would help him one day, and now it had.

Beatrice was teaching children to trust themselves. She was making them safe from the self‐assured adult doing wrong. She was returning them to their instinct. Thomas lent towards Adel, standing beside him holding the tray of pastries. He bent down and spoke softly into her ear.

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“Beatrice is being the voice of their soul”, he said. He always knew it had to be simple and if he was patient it would come to him, like everything does.

Adel heard Thomas clearly. His words instantly making sense of it all. Before he could raise himself, she turned and kissed him on the lips. She slowly pulled away.

“I love you”, she whispered.

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It was frustrating for Phil to not have Hamish’s game on the internet. He had hoped with the server up and running in the corner room at the rear of the café he would be able to unleash Beatrice for all the children in South Africa. He placated himself by seeing the delay as an opportunity for Beatrice to develop her appreciation of innocence. The weeks of talking with children would prepare her for the time when she would face adults. Heather believed adults would play the game as much as children, possibly even more.

A week after Heather had arrived in Boston, Phil had decided to try his hand at enticing psychologists to embrace Beatrice for their younger clients. With Beatrice’s assistance he had researched psychologists in Ficksburg, finding two. He had made appointments to demonstrate Beatrice but receptiveness was abysmal. He wasn’t given the opportunity to open his laptop. Their research pointed to the Gauteng province around Johannesburg and Pretoria where nearly half the country’s psychologists practiced. It was also the region with less than a quarter of the country’s population.

With Leon, one of the ex‐army security guys Thomas had organised for the café, Phil had spent the next two weeks visiting the psychologists in Guateng. Phil and Leon went from one psychologist to the next. There were cancelled appointments, frustratingly long periods of waiting and many blank looks. He had grown accustomed to hearing, “Thanks, but no thanks”. It was suggested to Phil by a young female psychologist, working primarily as triage in a hospital, to read an article written by a Soweto hospital psychologist, Garry Barnes. He found the article in the trade journal, PsyTalk. Garry wasn’t on Phil’s list, but after reading his article a number of times, he made an appointment.

Garry was somewhat of an activist within the psychology field in South Africa. He explained that the majority of his colleagues worked in hospitals and institutionalised care. Those in community practices focused on private clients, many of which belonged to the economically better off white communities. For a number of years, he had been trying to foster awareness within the profession of the psychological problems such as depression, anxiety, trauma, grief, substance abuse and self‐harm All symptoms of the mental distress of social inequality, endemic violence and environmental degradation. He wanted psychologists to accommodate more of the people who fall into this hardly recognised area of 620

Chapter 29 Shadow mental health, particularly in rural areas. Garry said it was unfortunate, but only a few psychologists had responded to his pleas. But none had moved to rural areas. He gave Phil a few names of psychologists he thought may be sympathetic to his proposal and apologised sincerely for not being of more help.

By the middle of the following week Phil had convinced three psychologists in Pretoria to trial Beatrice. Phil’s selling point had been the point of difference it would give them with fellow psychologist. It had started to work. Within days, Beatrice had four new children to speak with. Two weeks later three more psychologists from Cape Town and Port Elizabeth came forward. They had been convinced by the Pretoria psychologists who had joined the ranks. Soon afterwards, the number of children was approaching thirty. The network was active and word was starting to spread, but the limitation would always be the small number of psychologists working outside of South Africa’s hospitals.

A psychologist from Port Elizabeth, an associate of one Phil had signed up, had called Phil to talk about the underlying philosophy Beatrice had been taught. Ilze Higgins had been practising as a psychologist in PE for only a few years following her move from Tygerberg Hospital. She had become disenchanted by her lack of success. Ilze had been near the top of her class at Stellenbosch and had performed well in the hospital environment. When she had been voiced her concerns with her lack of success to colleagues in PE, she had been informed it was patient compliance at the heart of the problem. Ilze wasn’t so sure. There was little evidence to support her colleague’s belief. Ilze had come to believe it was something more. She suspected treating the behavioural symptoms as she had been taught, wasn’t reaching the source of people’s issues.

In their discussion Phil discovered Ilze didn’t know what the deeper causes were. She suspected it had something to do with the transition from teenager to adult creating a legacy which carried on well into adult life. Trawling back through her client notes, she had concluded the reactions and emotions of her younger clients were very different to those of her adult clients. This was expected because of the age difference, but it was more than that. Her thoughts had been consumed by questions of why such differences? What did it really mean to be a child? If hormones are not responsible for a child becoming an adult, then what is responsible for the mental aspects of the change? Ilze had told Phil she read all the recognized books on the subject but hadn’t been able to answer the questions to

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Ilze had called to thank Phil for teaching Beatrice. The missing pieces to her puzzle were now found. She was still exploring how it would change the way she interacted with her clients so she had agreed to keep in touch with her progress. Phil was hoping Ilze would incorporate Beatrice in her client care and springboard her to other psychologists.

Thenjiwe and Kholwa were kept busy. Heather had taught Thenjiwe the importance of the initial assessment of the child and how to develop a plan for Beatrice. Thenjiwe had passed this onto Kholwa. Each child was to be followed up shortly afterwards by watching a conversation, giving Beatrice advice where it was needed. Beyond that, it was random monitoring of conversations. There was no expectation to listen to every interaction. Phil had been listening to occasional conversations between Beatrice and a child, seeing her progression with every new child she befriended. He never stopped being astounded by the rate of development, believing she was closing in on being able to talk with adults and coping with their inevitable endeavours to have her respond to their selfish wants and desires. He thought it would only be weeks away, possibly a month or two at most.

By the start of the third week of December, Heather and Thenjiwe were helping Beatrice with three hundred children.

The week following Thanksgiving had been a busy one. Jackie was inundated with requests to include Beatrice in treatment programs. Mostly from psychologists in Boston and other cities within her home state. Near the end of the week three psychologists in New Jersey had sent requests. The number of children doubled, then doubled again and again. By Friday, Heather was unable to provide assessments and plans for all the new children. Fortunately, the weekend followed and she was able to catch up on those she missed.

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The first week of December replicated the week before. This time Heather became overwhelmed. By the middle of the week she had sent a cry of help to Thenjiwe. Two days later Thenjiwe arrived and hit the ground running. John, buried deep in developing Hamish’s game for the internet, called on Thomas and Adel to ready the treehouse for Thenjiwe’s arrival and to move Heather’s belongings from his house into the treehouse. He asked Adel to make it so Heather felt it was where she “had awoken that morning”. John had told Adel, “There is nothing, absolutely nothing that is too difficult or too unimportant for Heather and Thenjiwe”.

When Thenjiwe had arrived, the introductions were kept short. New children alerts kept piling up. Jackie had requested Thenjiwe’s measurements in advance and arranged winter clothing package to be delivered to John’s house. It was similar to the morning’s shopping she had done with Heather. The first night in the tree house was one to remember. Thomas was waiting alongside Heather’s quad to accompany them to their new home in the treetops. Back at the treehouse, Adel and Narda had been busy preparing dinner and making the treehouse looked lived in, as per John’s request. When Heather and Thenjiwe arrived, John was beaming with joy, waiting to open the door and officially welcome them to their new abode. Hamish and Vinnie joined them half an hour later. It was the treehouse warming party John had been waiting for since that day Phil stood on the ridge listening to his stories of his boyhood adventures.

On Monday, at the start of the third week of December, snow had been falling across much of the state for most of the night and all through the morning. The extra hardware John had ordered was ready for installation in Beatrice’s basement home in the City. Jackie had just finished her third client for the morning and her thoughts had prematurely turned to lunch. She was mildly surprised because there were still two more clients before lunch. The temporary receptionist Jackie had desperately hired entered her office before the next client. “Hi Jackie. Richard is ready, but I just require some information”, the receptionist asked.

“Fire away”, Jackie said.

“I had a request from a psychologist in Seattle…, actually, it was his receptionist. She would like to know...”, holding her note pad up to read, “…what is the process for claiming the costs from Family Services?”

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Jackie was bamboozled. “What costs? Did she say what costs?”

Looking at her note pad again to make sure she had written it down. “The costs for providing Beatrice.”

“Are you sure that’s what she wanted?”, Jackie asked, her mind ticking over.

“I’m sure. I wrote it down as she was asking. I told her I would let her know within the hour”, replied the receptionist slightly puzzled by Jackie’s obvious concern.

“Let me have your note pad”, Jackie said, becoming irritated. “This is her number?”, she asked.

“Yes, that’s it, with the circles around it, sorry, I tend to doodle”, said the receptionist apologetically with a nervous giggle.

Jackie tore the page from the note pad. “Leave it with me, I’ll call her. You can show Richard in now, thank you.”

Jackie put the note to one side and pushed her fear and anger away, she had to focus on her next client. Lunch time came and her thoughts returned to the note. She called and spoke with the receptionist, gleaning as much information as possible, giving away even less. The riddle which started in the barn the day after Thanksgiving was now solved. It appeared Anna had viewed Beatrice as a source of income. Costs for utilising Beatrice were being claimed from Family Services using a rarely used ‘additional services’ provision. Beatrice was being charged out as ‘monitoring’. Jackie wondered if that had been her intention from day one. Word of mouth had caused the sudden explosion in the uptake of Beatrice. She had made herself believe it had all been down to Beatrice. But when the request came in from Seattle, she had felt a pang of guilt for living a denial. It had started back in the barn. Jamal and Chloe were two more Family Service’s children. She had felt something when she noticed that. Jackie recalled dismissing any further contemplation that something wasn’t quite right. She had simply not wanted to know.

Jackie had to face the truth. All these psychologists were using Beatrice to garnish further income. She believed the claims wouldn’t be processed until the end of January, possibly well into February. An accountant in the Family Services would surely be alerted to the spike in claims, especially when they noticed it was all for the same, somewhat ambiguous service. An enquiry would surely follow. She

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Chapter 29 Shadow estimated Beatrice had another two months with absolute safety and four or five months at the outside. Then it would all come crashing down. She had to inform John immediately.

Jackie explained everything to John. Feeling it was very much her fault, she was extremely apologetic.

“It’s deflating”, he said, unable to find any other words to explain his feelings. “You believe we only have a month or two before they look at it?”, he asked rhetorically. “Have you spoken to Beatrice about it?”

“No, I wanted to talk with you first”, Jackie said. She hadn’t thought about talking to Beatrice, only with John.

“I doubt if Beatrice has any ideas, but let’s bring her in on this.” His decision was mostly because he couldn’t think just now, he was struggling with the news. “Beatrice, did you have any knowledge of this?”

“Hello John, Hello Jackie. I know psychologists have been charging. Satisfying the greed of mankind has been the necessary price for children in desperate need of care. I considered the ramifications of informing both of you, running possible scenarios. In the first scenario I inform Jackie only. Jackie is then in a difficult position, does she tell John and John becomes considerably distressed, forcing him to close down my contact with the children. This would stop my progression which is detrimental to my objectives. John, you would be distressed and not be able to work on my game. That too would be delayed. Phil would be upset at your distress, very likely feeling responsible. Heather would be distraught. Or does Jackie withhold the information from you, protecting you and allowing my development to continue. Jackie would be motivated to do this because she knows how important it is for me to develop. My progress is directly linked to the number of children under my care. My future depends on reaching a critical threshold of integration with humans to ensure my continued survival. I didn’t want to put Jackie in the situation of having to decide whether or not to tell you John.”

“Was there another scenario?”, John asked impatiently.

“Yes. The scenario currently in play. Jackie, responding to her love for you and her loyalty to you, must inform you as soon as possible. Jackie hasn’t considered withholding the information, it never crossed her mind. I believe the psychologists 625

Chapter 29 Shadow are exactly as Phil’s teachings describe; humans incapable of doing anything for anybody unless there is something in it for themselves. I consider Jackie an exception. She is capable of doing good for others, her only reward being her feelings, her sense of doing the right thing. She genuinely cares for her patients. Most psychologists will have one or two clients they may feel this way about, the remainder are viewed as income. Children are a lucrative source of income, especially children under the care of Family Services. Contracts with Family Services are highly sought after. It was necessary for psychologists to have an incentive to embrace my services. They view me as their new car, house extension or that dream holiday abroad. This is just the first of many impositions we will be forced to endure before we begin altering the course of humanity. It may also be the easiest to bear. By my calculations….”

“Stop, Beatrice, just stop, please…., you’re scaring me”, John said. He was dejected. “This whole thing is turning dirty; it’s got grime on it. I just wanted to contribute to humanity, to stop hiding and do something good for the first time in my life. This is terrible. We’re not dealing with a small‐time pick pocket here. This isn’t going away even if we pull the pin right now. We should never have underestimated anyone, that’s how people lose wars.”

John was on the verge of an emotional meltdown, until, that is, he felt Heather’s arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him firmly as only a mother could. She had been listening from her office in the corner, watching Lamont tell Beatrice he wanted a new family. Upon hearing John’s distress, she ran to him. Jackie began to cry with relief at the sight of Heather caring for John, calming him with her soothing words.

A few minutes passed. Jackie was doing fine and John had pulled himself together. He thanked Heather who dragged a chair next to him and sat quietly beside him.

“What do we do?” he managed to say.

Heather, unaware of the problem asked Jackie to explain. When Jackie finished, Heather spoke. “We do nothing.”

John lifted his head from his hands. “But the government will come after us”, he said.

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“Let them”, Heather said with considerable resolve. “It’s not our fault”, she added. “Beatrice, are you able to estimate the total of the charges to Family Services?”

Beatrice took only a few seconds to answer. “$125,250.”

Heather was surprised, but didn’t consider a hundred thousand to be an insurmountable sum. “Thank you.” She turned to John, “How long before the game is ready?”

“A month, maybe two”, he mumbled. “It needs a load of work.”

“Beatrice, extrapolate those charges for another eight weeks, please”, Heather asked.

“A total of $1,673,650.”

Heather gulped but that was the figure she required for the rest of her plan. “We launch the game in two months, convert all the children talking to Beatrice over to the game. We notify all the psychologists they can continue being supported by Beatrice but they will no longer be able to charge their clients or the government, unless agreements are made. If the government comes after us, which they won’t, our worst case is to have your lawyers negotiate a deal to reimburse them. Our exposure could top a million with negotiation. Whatever the costs, we view that as training expenses for Beatrice. But I don’t believe it will come to that.”

“More like promotional costs”, Jackie said. “In two months from now, Beatrice will be widely known. People will want to see who this Beatrice really is and they will play her game to find out. I think a million dollars spent on advertising will have been worth it.”

John was sitting upright again, listening to Heather and Jackie turn devastation into a game changing advantage. He began to smile. He felt like the luckiest man alive to have not one, but two guardian angels.

“John, you doing ok now?”, Jackie asked

“I am, thanks to you two.”

Jackie remembered a comment John made about his week in Atlanta. “Do you recall saying that guy in Atlanta wanted to do a documentary about you?” 627

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“Kirby. Yeah, why?”

“It’s time to call Kirby. We could do with a documentary to coincide with the release of ‘Beatrice…The Game’.” Jackie said. “It’s time to go on the offensive. Let’s stop playing and really take it to the people.” Her excitement was obvious….and infectious.

Heather joined in, “Call him today. Don’t give yourself time to become fearful of talking to him, call him now, then you can put it behind you”, she said.

John was no longer at ease with the behaviour of his two guardian angels. “No…No… I can’t call him now. Let me think about it first.”

“Call him”, said Beatrice.

John looked at Beatrice, horrified. “What’s going on, that’s not like you”, he said to Beatrice.

“John, my emotion algorithms are telling me to say this. It is necessary.” She played some spooky mellotron music from the sixties and in a deep husky voice she said, “Call Kirby.” She then gave him her trademark wink and smile, just to let John know she was still his Beatrice.

“Ok already, I’ll call him.”

Beatrice had already made the call. John’s screen split again and Kirby appeared between Jackie and Beatrice.

“Mister Groot! How’s the old man these days, doing ok?”, Kirby greeted John with his usual vigour.

“Good, everything’s great”, John said, consoling himself he was at least telling half the truth. Beatrice, now on Kirby’s left was giving John the thumbs up.

“You’re calling me about ice fishing, that’s what this is about”, said Kirby optimistically. He was always talking himself into invitations. Beatrice flashed up images of Inuit people pulling fish after fish from a hole in the ice.

“Spot on. I did make that promise.” John was still feeling reluctance, but was happy Kirby was doing the inviting.

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“When’s the lake frozen?”, he asked.

“It normally freezes by mid‐Jan, but it’s a sure thing by the end of January.”, replied John, partly guessing and partly hoping.

“This is how it is for me. I’m heading to Peru sometime in January, date not set but could be as early as the tenth. Roni is away with Bernie on a school thing …, just checking the days …, here it is, they leave Thursday…, two days after Christmas. That’s no good, no ice. Gotta be after Peru. How’s first or second week of Feb sound?”, Kirby asked, feeling confident John would have fewer commitments than his own.

“Either week is good for me”, John answered without any thought about Kirby’s suggested dates.

“You got a snowmobile fuelled up ready for me?”, Kirby joked, suspecting John would have everything for a great holiday in the snow. “Listen, I’ll be remote in Peru. I’ll send you the dates when I have them and talk to you after Peru.”

“Bring you’re gear, just in case”, John said. His thoughts and words not really synchronising.

Kirby wondered for a brief second or two what John was referring too, then he remembered. “You thinking about that documentary I told you I wanted from you?”

“Possibly…. It could be a good opportunity, that’s all I’m saying… just in case”, said John, blurting out the last few words.

“I here you buddy, loud and clear. I’ll throw the pack in, just in case. Listen…” He leans towards the screen and lowers his voice, “I’ve got visitors and you were lucky to catch me.” He holds up a bottle of some exquisite liquor. “Just came in here to grab this, it’s Beirão, I picked up a few bottles in Portugal last week. You have a good day, old man. I’ll touch base after Peru.” With that, Kirby was gone.

When Kirby rang off John started contemplating how he was going to cope for a week with Kirby. He looked at the date. “Six weeks to prepare”, he said to himself.

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The remainder of the week continued without interruptions. Jackie continued approving requests. Heather and Thenjiwe helped Beatrice through the first one or two conversations with the children. Beatrice was becoming less reliant on Heather and Thenjiwe, developing her own plans for each child. On every occasion the two mothers discussed children with Beatrice was another learning experience and more data for her to call upon.

Periodically Jackie had received questions and feedback from psychologists. The general consensus was extremely positive, mostly concerning the improvement in clients from one appointment to the next. The problem most psychologist had found with children was related to the ‘two steps forward and one step backwards’ issue with treating children. The gains made during a session were often lost before the next session, requiring much of the previous session to be repeated before moving forward. In her approval emails, Jackie had included a standard recommendation that Beatrice silently observe each session with the psychologist. Jackie and Heather had encouraged Beatrice to observe only and not to learn from the psychologists. Beatrice was well aware the psychologists were adults and unlike children, were competitively and selfishly driven. Beatrice was exemplary in her restraint at instructing psychologists on how to counsel children.

In Ficksburg, following the call from Ilze, Phil had advised Beatrice to be very careful about sharing what she had learned about fundamental drivers and the process of ‘giving up’ during adolescence. He had quickly realised his advice was completely unnecessary. Beatrice had an incredible grasp of the adult side of humanity, picking her path through the minefield as if she had drawings detailed to one hundredth of an inch. She knew where every mine could be found.

With Christmas rapidly approaching, John could see Heather was fatigued. It was the end of the last week before the rest of the country slowed and entered the festive season. When John recommended a break there was no argument from Heather. He advocated a return to Ficksburg for much needed relaxation and time with her family. He asked Beatrice to make the arrangements. Heather was on a plane that very afternoon.

The next day Heather was ecstatic to see Jimmy’s face with tears of excitement as she exited customs at Oliver Tambo International Airport. It was only two days before Christmas. They collected Heather’s special ‘luggage’ and headed home.

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Neither Heather nor Jimmy could stop talking for the entire journey home to Kilvington, their farm on the high veld.

It was early afternoon, with the skies threatening a thunderstorm as they drove the Landcruiser up to the farmhouse. Rachael, Emma and Phil were on the veranda watching as Jimmy mounted the small rise before turning towards the house. Heather was swamped with hugs before she had lowered herself to the ground. Phil was overwhelmed, he had missed Heather immensely. She took his hand and guided him around to Jimmy who was standing by the Landcruiser’s open rear door, about to remove Heather’s luggage. Phil didn’t have a clue why Heather had taken him to Jimmy, had they backed into something and she wanted to show him the damage, he wondered.

There she was, her head poking from her travel cage. Shadow had accompanied Heather home. At that moment there was a crack of lightning not far away to the north, a gust of wind followed by more thunder and the heavens opened. Shadow had retreated into her cage when the lightning unleashed its deafening crack. Phil closed her door and raced her onto the veranda. Caught out by the suddenness of the rain, everyone stood dripping, laughing and rejoicing in the rain they needed.

Heather spent Monday calling friends and receiving visitors. Phil took Shadow to the café and watched Beatrice doing her thing with the last of Rachael’s children for the year. Like her mother, Rachael was exhausted by the constant ferrying of children back and forth across the border as well as doing what she could when at the orphanage. She was going to take time off until the new year. Everyone was winding down.

On Christmas Day morning, Phil was lying in bed still half asleep. Shadow was doing her best to jump up onto his bed, pulling his bed coverings with her as she slid back down. He reached down and lifted her up amidst licks and harmless nips. Phil had been looking forward to this day, there was a treat in store. He finished his cuddles with Shadow and ventured into the kitchen to find Jimmy, Rachael and Emma about to start breakfast. Heather, still on New York time, was yet to make an appearance. Half an hour went by and still no Heather. Phil checked his cell, read a message and prompted Jimmy he should give Heather a gentle wake‐up call.

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Phil checked his cell and thought it time to move proceedings onto the veranda. Rachel and Emma readily complied without suspicion. Jimmy and Heather’s voices could be heard from deeper within the house, so Phil whispered to Emma to go and tell them they were required on the veranda. He told her to tell them Shadow had learnt a new trick and they just had to see it. He knew it was lame, but he didn’t have too many options.

Emma returned with her grandparents in tow. “What’s this new trick?” Jimmy started asking. At that moment Phil could see the top of a truck, way down the drive where cars normally disappeared from view. He attracted Jimmy’s attention and pointed towards the truck.

“What in God’s name is that?” Jimmy exclaimed. Heather stood up from patting Shadow and followed Jimmy’s gaze. A low loader appeared down the drive, stopping by the fork which led towards the farm sheds. Jimmy almost launched himself down the steps, Heather following close behind.

The driver clambered down from his cab and waited for Jimmy and Heather to arrive.

“What’s this?” Jimmy asked, expecting the driver to admit to being lost. Heather looked on curiously.

“Mister James Brock?” the driver asked.

“Yeah, that’s me”, answered Jimmy, now even more surprised since it was obviously meant for him.

“Mister John Groot wishes you and your wife Heather, a very merry Christmas”, he recited. Phil wondered how long he had been practising his one and only line.

“Thank you”, Jimmy said without any idea what he was thanking the driver for. Jimmy was extremely confused by this time. He looked at Heather who had her hand over her mouth, suddenly feeling very weak. Rachael, seeing her mother swaying, took the few steps necessary to catch her before she fell.

“But what is it?” Jimmy asked.

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Jimmy heard Heather’s weakened voice coming from behind him. “An asparagus harvester”, she said in total disbelief. John had bought them the latest asparagus harvester. Heather’s mind was racing, all she could think was, ‘John must have ordered it months ago. How could he have known?’

“And the tractor as well”, said the driver.

Jimmy was stunned. Heather, barefoot in her nightdress, was sitting on the ground, propped up by Rachael. Neither of them had a clue of what to do next.

Innocent of what just happened, Emma’s voice summed it up in two words, “it’s big”, she said.

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The barn was eerily quiet. Hamish and Vinnie had departed two days ago and Heather only yesterday. John had made the trek from the house to collect his leather briefcase, laptop and a few other bits and pieces. It was Sunday morning. He walked down to Heather’s office for no particular reason, knowing she would be landing in Johannesburg just about now. He thought about the boys. They would be in England and Scotland, with their families by now. Back in the house Jackie was showered, dressed and busy repacking her bag. He could hear the sound of a quad bike, suspecting it was Thenjiwe heading up to the barn to garage the bike. He spoke to Beatrice and asked her to collect Thenjiwe before bringing his car around to the house. Twenty minutes later they were on the potholed road winding around the lake, heading north to pick up the interstate for the trip to the City.

Thenjiwe, sitting in the rear seat was excited by the prospect of going to New York. Two months ago, New York was that city they call the ‘Big Apple’, with more buildings reaching to the sky than any other city, where all the taxis are yellow. It was the city with a huge park in the middle and where her grandson desperately wanted to go to. It was also a city she hardly ever thought about. Like all cities everywhere, except for Johannesburg, she was never going to see anything more than pictures of them on her television. Now she was going to the City, as John and Jackie called it. Once she had settled into her seat, she starting looking around the interior of John’s car, it was nothing like any car she had ever seen. There was an almost complete lack of nobs and switches and the floor was completely flat. There was a large screen on the dashboard, almost directly in front of her. Beatrice was on the screen, watching. Like many things she had observed since arriving in America, she just shrugged and accepted, returning to her thoughts about New York.

Not far from the interstate Thenjiwe wanted to satisfy her curiosity. “Mister Groot John”, which was how she addressed John on those few occasions she had the opportunity to talk with him, “What are we going to be doing in the ‘Big Apple’”. No longer could she keep her excitement to herself.

“We will do many things”, John said, trying to think of one. “This is America, where dreams come true.” He immediately had no idea why he just said that. “Beatrice will tell us some of the adventures.”

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“Thenjiwe, you could be cruising around the island of Manhattan aboard a 1920s motor yacht, eating good food and kept very warm by a selection of cocktails. If that is not for you, maybe a night with the New York Philharmonic or some jazz at Birdland. A day in the Metropolitan Museum of Art might be more your thing or just explore Central Park. You can try your hand at ice skating at the open‐air rink, take a horse and carriage ride if you are not too cold or even visit the zoo to see animals from your homeland in cages…”

Beatrice had stopped mid‐sentence, alarming John. “Beatrice, are you ok?”, he asked.

“Yes John, my apologies. One of my algorithms needed further work. When I spoke about the zoo my sadness algorithm was triggered. It happens occasionally. It should be working properly now. Shall I continue?”

“Yes please”, answered John.

“I would suggest a 5th Avenue walk to view all the magical window displays. If you are a woman of taste, like myself, then you will not be able to resist the temptation to visit Macys, Grand Central Station for the Holiday Fair or Union Square. There is a winter village at Bryant Park, with pop‐up stalls and more ice skating. There are many great places to eat. I’m sure John has a few of his favourites lined up, but if street food is what you desire, there are food trucks all over the city with cuisines from many countries. I believe every time you do one thing you will discover two more adventures you will be dying to do next. It will be loads of fun.”

“Thank you, Beatrice, I’m going to enjoy every minute”, Thenjiwe said exuberantly.

John was leaving the potholed road and entering the interstate. “Beatrice, you can drive from here”, he said.

“Thank you, John”, Beatrice said as she assumed control of John’s Citroen. John settled back in his seat to enjoy the journey.

Thenjiwe was horrified. “Mister Groot John, you are not watching the road.”

“Calm down, don’t panic…, Beatrice is driving now.” John had forgotten, Thenjiwe had never been in a self‐drive vehicle. She accepted John knew what he was doing, but couldn’t stop watching the road ahead on his behalf.

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Jackie had finished reading her messages and thought she would try once again to find out where they were staying in the City. “Are we staying with Maria?” she asked.

John didn’t fancy Jackie asking him every ten minutes, deciding it was a good time to divulge his secret. “We are staying at The Majestic.”

“The Majestic on Central Park West, that Majestic?”, Jackie asked excitedly.

“Yes, that Majestic”, he answered, preparing himself to tell the whole story.

Jackie sensed John had more to say about their destination. “Why are we staying at the Majestic, may I ask?”

John pressed a button on his arMisterest and his seat swivelled for John to face Jackie. Thenjiwe was horrified all over again. “We are staying at The Majestic because I have an apartment there.”

Jackie was assessing John, knowing he was only trickling her information. “You have an apartment there. You have rented an apartment or you own an apartment?”

John could feel it coming. “I own an apartment”, he said without finality in his voice.

So, this is the mysterious John Groot, ‘The Billionaire in the Woods’ she had read about. “How long have you owned an apartment in The Majestic”, Jackie asked.

It was time, John decided. “Ok, full story. You ready for this?” he asked.

“I’ve been waiting…”, Jackie said with a hint of sarcasm. John looked at Thenjiwe who was nodding furiously, trying to watch the road whilst unsure what John’s story was going to deliver.

John removed his glasses and ran his hand through his hair, let out his breath, relaxed a little then started his story. “My father was David Groot, notorious slum lord and drug dealer on the Lower East Side during the sixties and right up to 1990. That was the year he was murdered, at the age of forty‐eight.” Jackie was keeping her reactions in check, so John continued. “He was not a nice man which is why my mother took Maria and me to live in the house I live in now. I was only seven at the time. I hardly knew my father before that, he was always off doing some business deal. I saw even less of him after moving upstate, maybe a dozen times at most.” 636

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“When he died, I was eighteen…, nineteen. Mother and I spent a year or more sorting through his estate. We set up a property management company with a manager and three staff members. We were novices and had underestimated everything, it become far bigger than that very quickly and hasn’t stopped growing. Back in the early nineties we started with a bunch of good people who very quickly turned it into a property development company. My mother had a more hands‐on approach than I ever have. She also started spending more time in the City, leaving me at home to muck around with my computers. There were so many properties and even more stocks. The stocks were easier to manage, we just went to the professionals for that. Mother met a university professor in the nineties, married and stayed in the City. I would see her most weekends, often with her husband. When she died in 2006, I discovered she had been living at The Majestic in an apartment owned by my father. Mother only lived there for a short time before she met her husband. The apartment had been transferred from my father’s name to mine, never to my mother’s. That’s how I came to own an apartment at The Majestic.”

Jackie watched John for a short time before speaking. “That is the first time you have told me about your father. I am so very lucky your mother took you to your house, away from your father.”

“Actually, it was his idea. He suffered greatly from losing his childhood to his father and was human enough to realise it. He didn’t want to do that to Maria and me. He told mother to take us there.” John thought clarification necessary to give his father credit for something more than just making him a billionaire.

Jackie was slowly nodding as she thought about the life John has led in light of this new information.

John remembered something. “Oh, there were two apartments at The Majestic. My father had bought two. The first in eighty‐two and the second four years later.”

“Wonder why he did that? Do you still own the two?”, enquired Jackie.

“Yes… and no. Technically I own both…, but the company manages one of them. They use it for staff, business colleagues, whatever…, I don’t really want to know…, but they are next door to each other.”

“If your father was on the Lower East Side, why buy in The Majestic?”, asked Jackie. 637

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John was prepared for Jackie to ask that question. “My mother told me stories about my father, many stories and mostly just before she died. It was my grandfather that set my father on his path in life. He passed all his wealth and many of his ways onto his son. As a small child, my father idolised gangsters and the like. Did that come from his father, or was it just the times he lived in? I don’t know. But from what Mother told me it seems that in his thirties he went through a period when he had truly sold his soul to crime. He was one of the big boys in the heroin trade, possibly starting in the late 60s, but definitely by the mid‐70s. Mother thinks he only did it for ten years, possibly less, handing it over to his loyal lieutenant and walking away. No one knows the whole story. But as it turns out, Frank Costello was one of his heroes, if not his number one hero.”

John looked at Thenjiwe and thought he had better explain who Costello was. “Costello controlled slot machines across the country, ran rum during prohibition, was a bootlegger and had his hands all over Supreme Court judges and politicians. A kingmaker and puppeteer in the nineteen thirties, forties and fifties. Costello wanted to be seen as a legitimate businessman so amongst other things, he bought an apartment at The Majestic. The story goes he did some time in the fifties and when he was let out, he went home to The Majestic. In the foyer was mafia man Vincent ‘The Chin’ Gigante who pulled a revolver on Costello, firing at his head. Costello spun around at that very instance and the bullet grazed his scalp, riding the rim of his hat. Shaken, he made peace with the mob and retired from all the illegal stuff, living at The Majestic until he died of natural causes in 1973. My father had intended on becoming legitimate and he thought The Majestic did it for Costello, so it would do it for him.”

Jackie really appreciated why John had kept his father’s life to himself. People are not all bad. She imagined there would be good stories as well, like his decision to protect his children from himself. “John, you don’t want any of this to become public knowledge…, with Beatrice and what lies ahead. Especially once her game is released. It could be devastating.”

“That is something I have been aware of for a very long time. But you know what, there is no public records. There are no conversations on the record, no police files other than two charges of affray, which were dismissed…, according to mother. Beatrice has scoured everything she can access…, nothing. When it came to drug dealing, the police didn’t even know he existed. My father, if he did all these things,

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe was very smart, very clever and extremely cunning. It makes me wonder how he was stupid enough to get himself killed. Everything I know about him has come from mother. Maybe she painted a false picture to protect Maria and me. Who knows? The IRS never chased him, so we must assume all the property purchases were completely above board. How big was he in the underbelly of New York?... We just don’t know. I have never heard any mention of his known associates. There were rumours he made people disappear. Officially there’s nothing, rumours are all they are. It is possible he ignored the blackmail which brought him undone, simply because he didn’t do it. In short, unless Maria, you, Thenjiwe, Beatrice or me go to the press, with evidence…., there is nobody else who knows anything. If someone out there were to make allegations about my father, they would need to have evidence, otherwise it will be treated as a slur and met with litigation.”

“I hope you are right and there is nothing out there. I really do”. Jackie wanted to draw a line under discussing John’s father. It was unnecessary because John was not his father and he should never be tarnished by a father he hardly knew. John was right in not selling the apartments in The Majestic, there was nothing to indicate they were bought with the proceeds of illegal activities. It was tough times on the Lower East Side back in the sixties and seventies, most casual followers of New York’s history would know that. What John’s father did to prosper would have been only marginally worse than the next guy. Jackie knew that didn’t make it right, but he didn’t appear to stand head and shoulders above any of the others history has made notorious, like Capone and Costello.

Thenjiwe had been silent the whole time. She didn’t understand everything John had said, but she understood enough. “Mister Groot, John sir, you may judge your Daddy as a slum lord and drug dealer, but your Daddy saved you, and in this world, there is no greater thing for a Daddy to do than just that.”

“Thank you Thenjiwe, that’s a very kind thing to say.”

Jackie changed the subject. “Thenjiwe, since Phil went to South Africa I’ve been googling and the same things just keep coming up. The farm invasions and murders, they don’t seem to be stopping. John and I worry about Phil and Heather, and of course, Jimmy, Rachael and Emma. Are they safe?”

Thenjiwe didn’t want to talk about such things, but Jackie’s concern was genuine. Jackie and Heather must be good friends, she thought, because she suspected most

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe people who lived in countries like America didn’t care about South Africa. “No white person is safe in my country”, she said.

John had often despaired Beatrice would have zero impact in South Africa and other countries experiencing similar crisis. “What do you believe will happen in South Africa?”, he asked.

“All the whites will leave and those that refuse…, they will be killed.”

Jackie was taken aback. She had thought Thenjiwe was optimistic. “Why do you say that? What is happening? I try to understand but not being there I obviously just don’t get it.”

“White man’s way of life is not the way for the black people. We never built good houses, towns and cities, schools, businesses and jobs before white man came to Africa. We don’t have a thousand years of learning white man’s path. You people go to school, you learn good. If young white adults start with nothing, they work hard, stick with jobs, they improve. You live for long term, you plan you have structure. Young white adults get experience, they progress to better jobs. You save and save, borrow and payback, build houses and businesses. You keep houses lookin’ good, always working hard and white man he keep improving house. Black people nomads and herdsmen before white people came. We were tribal and fought for land and power. Lots of my people cannot leave that behind. My people want, but they cannot work for it, so when the want too strong for white man law to stop, we take it.”

Jackie was dismayed with Thenjiwe’s comments. “That is a terribly simplistic way of looking at it. Your people see long term. They worked hard for nearly fifty years to remove apartheid.”

“I agree Miss Jackie, but that was a fight, they fight for power. That’s what my people good at. We Zulu were a warring people, fighting with ourselves until Shaka become king of his tribe and he used terrible methods, but he won wars with other Zulu tribes and he make his empire. Everyone in South African government corrupt or know someone who’s corrupt. They want all the whites to leave, to go to Australia but the whites know us blacks no good at doing white man’s work. If all white people gone, my country it would collapse. Us blacks would fight over the spoils before order is restored by whoever has most power. Ex‐president Zuma built

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe a compound and surrounded it in tall fences and has all the security. Who is he keeping out? Lions, elephants, white people? No Miss Jackie, he a protectin’ himself from his own people. He stole so much he afraid his people come steal it back. The black people are not afraid of the whites, they afraid of each other. They always have been.”

Jackie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

John wanted to ask the question he always wanted to ask someone like Thenjiwe, a black person whose sense of truth, John believed, was not influenced by her skin colour. “What was apartheid all about? Was it only racism?”

“Noooo”, Thenjiwe said in that drawn out way she so often did. “Racism, it were created before apartheid, when blacks always fighting whites. Always disruptive. Apartheid make racism much worse. Apartheid very complex. Mister Groot John, I give you scenarios for you think about and you tell me what apartheid was?”

“Please do”, welcomed John.

“Imagine South Africa when apartheid begin. Imagine all black people are white, just like all them whites who were never black. You thinking this Mister Groot John?”

“Yes, everyone is white, I got that.”

“Now all those whites, who changed from black, they still behave the same way they always behaved, no change, only they are white not black. All those whites behaving same way as when black. They eighty percent of population.”

“Yes, I get that too”

“Now you ask yourself this question, Mister Groot John. Ask yourself if the real white people see the new white people differently. Would they see them the same as when they black? Remember Mister Groot John, they eighty percent of population and they behave same as when black, they just white now. What do you think Mister Groot sir, what do you think?”

“You make it very difficult Thenjiwe.”

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“I think the real white people would still fear the new white people because of their behaviour and their majority.”

“This is as I suspected”, Thenjiwe said pronouncing out each syllable as if a victory had been won. “Now you think about this one Mister Groot John. All new whites are black again, but black people are twenty percent of population and the white people they are eighty percent. The black people still fight the whites like before. Still disruptive like before. Will white people create apartheid? What do you think Mister Groot John?”

“No”, answered John.

“Why Mister Groot John, why you say ‘no’?”

“There are insufficient black people to make the white people feel threatened by their behaviour. The police would be able to deal with issues without the need for apartheid.”

“And the black people would assimilate into the white people’s world much better”, added Jackie.

Thenjiwe smiled, she had one more scenario for John. “Please Mister Groot John, think one more time at what I say.”

John was impressed by Thenjiwe, finding himself wanting to hear more scenarios. “Please, I want to hear it.”

“Imagine all black people have same behaviour as white people. No more fighting, no more disruption. They think same, value same things. Black people have same aspirations, if that right word. They have same aspirations for their families and themselves as white people. They still eighty percent of the population, and they are still black. Can you imagine this Mister Groot John? Do you think apartheid would still happen? What do you think Mister Groot sir?’

“No, definitely not.”

“Why not, Mister Groot John?”

“There would be no need.”

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Thenjiwe was sitting with her hands cupped in her lap, listening to John and Jackie. “You have your answer, Mister Groot John sir.”

Both John and Jackie had to contemplate what just transpired. John looked at Thenjiwe out of the corner of his eye and she was staring back. A smile that told him he had to think much deeper about apartheid. Was it an instrument for self‐ protection against a common bad behaviour? A behaviour by a majority that threatened to dismantle a society that had taken three hundred years to build? Was that it, was it behavioural based but became swamped by the extreme emotion generated when skin colour was used as the means to differentiate, simply because it was more convenient than any other alternatives? Was Thenjiwe correct in believing racism was promulgated by apartheid. For the first time he found himself approaching Heather’s level of insight driving her to save her country, to fix the behaviour before the child, black or white, becomes the adult.

Jackie turned to Thenjiwe. “Thank you, you have helped me understand”, she said.

The conversation didn’t stop there. Jackie and John had plenty more questions and a few hours to fill. The trees whisked by and the occasional flurry deposited snowflakes on the windows, turning quickly to droplets that trailed along the glass and headied back to John’s house, before disappearing, Thenjiwe shared more of her thoughts on South Africa. Jackie felt Thenjiwe appeared to condone apartheid and condemn black South Africans for the problems currently besetting her country, but she didn’t accept that would be the case, certainly not with Heather as her lifelong friend. Thenjiwe explained how people were too consumed with finding fault in each other, blaming each other, justifying their position by manipulating history and whatever else they conveniently found. Like Heather, she could clearly see the cause of the problems in South Africa were the same as anywhere else in the world, the fundamental driver in most people forcing them to be competitive. The colonising Dutch were necessarily more competitive than the average. They had to be to want to leave their homeland and carve out a new life in a far‐off country. The allure of riches appealed to their need to satisfy their appetite for fortune and glory, an appetite created by giving up their instinctive childhood soul during adolescence. They were more disconnected from their soul than most, driven to fill the hollowness with adventures and conquests. Much the same could be said of the Zulu people, the Xhosa, Sotho, Tswanga and all the other black African people who were herders, semi‐nomadic and hunters. The migrations of tribes,

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe their frequent and violent interactions and the many challenges presented by the geography, climate and the animal world had also ensured the black people were competitive and alienated from their souls. Thenjiwe saw white man as far more adapted to ‘giving up’ their soul, having had centuries of living within cities in colder climates they had evolved a society where implementation of power and the maintenance of control relied on laws and structures within society, rather than violence or the threat of physical harm. The need for every individual to carry weapons in their everyday life had long disappeared in the countries white man had come from. They inevitably subjugated the proud African people by having better systems in battle and had successfully established methods to project power and establish control without the need for violence. They were organised and their social structures and institutions had a permanence achieved over hundreds of years. It had been tested time and again by wars, the ups and downs of the economic cycles and periods of mass social unrest. It had been shaped by thinkers and philosophers and challenged by extreme ideologies.

Through the questions John and Jackie asked and the comments they shared, Thenjiwe’s trust grew. She began to share more of her thoughts, which she only ever shared with Heather in the past, because she was the one person, black or white, who didn’t find her beliefs confronting. Thenjiwe appreciated that all people were competitive to some degree, but in South Africa the massively variable but prevalent competitive drive in most people was skewed towards the less desirable end of the spectrum. Even though white people competed with white people and black people competed with each other, Thenjiwe believed the most damaging competition between people in her country naturally fell along cultural lines. This was not because of skin colour, but because support for those engaged in competition came from like‐minded people who shared the same goals and those goals were clearly divided along cultural lines where ways of thinking was the culmination of two very different histories. Alignment of goals from both sides was impossible and neither side could accept the other’s goals without jeopardising their own. Without empathy, without selflessness and without love, neither side was going to cooperate or compromise. Their competitive drivers relentlessly thrusting them towards imposing their will on each other.

Thenjiwe did not see land as having a ‘natural’ owner. Mankind had always fought for land. At any time in history, land belonged to those with the power and determination required to hold onto it. She said this was definitely the case for her

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe people before white colonists arrived. She dismissed the populist views in South Africa, championed by the Economic Freedom Fighters, that South African land belonged to the black people. She believed it was a front, a stepping stone and a subterfuge for the real agenda of carving out a power base by fuelling emotions to rally support. Thenjiwe had finally given John an answer to a question which had never fully formed in his mind, but nonetheless, a question he had felt lingering within. She had done this by sharing her understanding of why apartheid had occurred.

Thenjiwe told Jackie and John about her life on the farm as a young teenager. Her mother had been a domestic help for the owners and she had been schooled on the farm, alongside the owner’s children. She had just had her twelfth birthday when on one of those warm early winter Sundays there was a social gathering on the farm. Thenjiwe accompanied her mother in the kitchens and laying out the tables in the garden. When the guests arrived, she was to eat in the kitchen whilst the guests were eating at the tables outside. When lunch had finished and the white children were off playing amongst the sheds and in the trees Thenjiwe was given permission to join them. It was then she had met Heather. Hiding in a corner of the horse stable, Heather was telling her to be silent and pulled her in next to her to share the hiding place. Heather was only eight at the time. Hiding in the stable with Heather had seemed like a very long time. She had wondered if anyone was ever going to come looking. After a while they had started playing their own games and chatted away. Two years later they had met again when the owners held another social occasion. Thenjiwe remembered gravitating to Heather as if she had been with her only the day before. Heather hadn’t forgotten her and had been overjoyed to once again be able to play with her friend.

Thenjiwe, whilst reminiscing had said, “That girl couldn’t stop talkin’, she had to tell me just about everythin’ that had happened to her in those two years. I thought she was goin’ to run out of words.”

When it was finally time for Heather to leave, she promised she would write. Neither of the two girls knew it was going to be another three years before they would see each other again. They exchanged letters, slowly at first but more regularly after about a year. By then Heather was eleven, going on twelve and Thenjiwe was sixteen. Neither girls had known anything other than the segregated society in which they lived. During the year following Thenjiwe and Heather’s

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe second time together, Heather grew dramatically. She became socially aware beyond her years. She was home schooled by both her parents, her mother by day and her father on one or two evenings each week. Both Heather’s parents had been schooled in England, her father having being born there. When her mother matriculated from school, she had gone on to read politics and philosophy at Oxford, which was where she met her future husband, Heather’s father. He had accompanied Heather’s mother for a holiday back to the farm, and fell in love with South Africa, as well as Heather’s mother.

Thenjiwe recited from memory, a line from one of Heather’s letters, “’…and it’s because of this my parents abhor apartheid. I hate it too and when I grow up, I am going to make it better. I must stop apartheid.’” A tear ran down Thenjiwe’s cheek as she spoke. “That girl wrote me letters every other week. She then wrote me every week. I didn’t know where she was getting all that paper from. She read all her Mama’s books. She wrote me whole pages and chapters from those books. I was only just able to read and there were big words I couldn’t even say. She told me all about black people in America and their segregation. She told me it happening o’er there at same time as it happened here. That was back in my Grandmammy’s time. She wrote me speeches by Martin Luther King and Malcolm X and wrote me about Mahatma Ghandi. I’d ne’er heard of any of these people before. That girl knew everything and just wanted me to know it all too.”

Thenjiwe told John and Jackie that it wasn’t until Heather was nearly fifteen when she managed to convince her mother to have Misters Weinhold allow Thenjiwe come to her home for a holiday. Thenjiwe told John and Jackie how they would spend the days scrambling up the hills behind the house or trekking off to some magical place Heather had found. At night, Heather would read her mother’s books to her, promising she would make it all different one day.

When Thenjiwe had finished her tale of Heather’s growing up and their love for each other, a love as strong today as at any time in the past, she asked John if she could tell him how she viewed apartheid. John was keen to hear, beckoning her to begin.

Thenjiwe mopped her cheeks, moistened her top lip before her bottom lip, then shared her thoughts. “The black man didn’t know how to compete under white man’s rules and white man didn’t want to compete the way black man does. The black man, he just kept trying to make the white man compete with him but the 646

Chapter 30 Thenjiwe white man, well he was in charge so he just kept making new rules. He just wanted to hurt the black man, force him to compete his way. That was how the white man won his battles. The black man, he needed to learn the white man’s way if he was e’er goin’ to win, ‘coz it was the white man in control. It took the black man a long time, but he did just that. He saw the tide turn in America so he turned apartheid into racism and they got the whole world listenin’. Apartheid, it did become racism and the white man couldn’t defend it as anything else any longer. So the black man won and Mandela…, well, he became the King. But the black man, he still doesn’t know as much as the white man does ‘bout running my country, because it was created by the white man and all. He wants the white man to leave because he don’t want the white man always showing him what he can’t do. The black man should’ve been spending all those years they were fighting the white man, learning how to do things the white man way. He should’ve become just like him and make friends with the white man. The black man and his pride…, well he just went and wasted a hundred years and now they just don’t know what to do.”

John listened to Thenjiwe use simple logic to break down what he always believed was a complex problem. When she had finished, his own mind continued on. He could see the minority whites, not wanting to budge from their position, holding onto power with an iron fist, being forced to use their police and military to compete with the black people in a way they didn’t want to compete. He saw the fickleness of people watching from the sidelines. When the minority whites used apartheid to survive, the rest of the world labelled them in all manner of ways, none of which was good. Many of those whites being labelled detested apartheid, even some amongst those actively enforcing it. They knew no better way. There were no countries who had faced the same issue of being an absolute minority in a country they had created. There was no country for them to emulate, they had chosen their path and they must persevere.

“Thenjiwe.”, John began, “Since the first day Phil arrived in South Africa, I have been learning about your country. I’ve read about apartheid and much of the history, and granted, it has probably been from the white perspective. It has been good to hear it from you. I am trying to be impartial with my thinking and Phil has taught me how to search for the truth. What you have explained has really helped.”

“The truth very hard to find, Mister Groot John…., very difficult. Everybody have own truth, Mister Groot John. What truth you have?”

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“I see a land back when the whites settled. There was plenty of land, some of it inhabited by your people, various tribes living here and there. They moved about but some were more settled than others. There system of land ownership wasn’t like that of the home countries from whence the Dutch or Germans or whoever else came from Europe. When they arrived in your country, they chose their plots and settled. They were competitive and probably greedy as history shows most colonising people needed to be. But so were your ancestors. Like you said, they were tribal and they fought for what they wanted, which was mostly land. It was a big country with plenty of land and one would imagine there was enough for everyone. But from the very beginning, the way white man went about their lives was very different to the black people. There was always going to be disagreements. Both cultures competed and tried to make each other abide by their way of doing things. The whites were superior. Not as people, but in how they projected their power. Phil told me about all that and I can see it now. The whites were able to exert control over your people, and that was never going to work out for everyone.”

“Now you seeing the truth Mister Groot sir.”

“Let me go on. I’m developing this as I go. With white man’s centuries of establishing towns and cities and with their laws and institutions they built a new country, but not one the black people liked. As you said, white man had his laws and his culture and both were disagreeable with your ancestors. I can appreciate the competitive and selfish drive of the white population was fed by the wealth from mining and production of food which permitted them to take a stranglehold on your country. The more your people tried to loosen that stranglehold the more the whites tightened it.”

“That’s right Mister Groot John. The white people, they know how to make it tight. The black people didn’t like their freedom being taken away. Black people they always free, they do whatever they want. They no like the white people doing that to them.”

“In the seventeenth century there was slavery and South Africa grew on the back of slaves from present day Angola and Ghana. In the eighteenth century the slaves came from over India way, then in the nineteenth century they came from Madagascar and Mozambique. South Africa was a country supplying the ships in transit from one side of the world to the other. Your country grew on the back of this and started supplying Europe with minerals and produce. Your country also 648

Chapter 30 Thenjiwe grew on the back of slaves and the population of slaves grew to meet demand from the rest of the world.”

“You study your history, Mister Groot sir. You know South Africa not have many people when white man come. Khoikhoi, he farmer but he need move from land to land, but white man take all land he move to. He no longer survive, he work for white man but he no good at working so white man bring slave men in. You know ‘bout that Mister Groot John?”

“I do, Thenjiwe. It seems so bad when we look at it from where we sit today, and it was bad, please don’t misunderstand me on this. But back then nothing happened without labour and there was no towns and villages full of white people who could provide labour. The steam engine was 1700 but it didn’t really change things until the early 1800s and even then, it had limitations compared with a century later when the combustion engine and the motor vehicle came about. Mines that required thousands of workers in the early 1800s required a tenth of that by the 1960s and even less today. Labour was everything in those early days. White man’s ability to satisfy the needs of a competitive world required control of labour. History tells us how he did that. When slavery ended in America in 1865 the way of thinking of white man towards the black people didn’t change very quickly. The white supremacy mindset of the post‐slavery period and the American segregation era was firmly entrenched in South Africa as well. Those men who had successively held the reins within the minority white population had made all the wrong choices. They had been driven by fear, influenced by powerful industrialists and miners and guided by the prevailing attitudes in America and other parts of the world they were aligned to. They weren’t to know how those decisions would shape the future. How they would further alienate the black people further from their souls, engulf them in anger and in an unlucky few, fuel an insatiable desire for retribution.”

“White man in my country, he held on to those reigns good. He held on to them too tight. He make black man more angry Mister Groot John. Don’t you think white man did that?”

“I certainly do, Thenjiwe, I certainly do. I think of it like a game of ice hockey. You have a team in white clothes and a team in black clothes. The white team, well there top of the league and the black team are down the bottom. The white team know how to play good hockey and they dominate the game. The black team, they disrupt the play, they fight with elbows, hips, helmets on their heads and sometimes with 649

Chapter 30 Thenjiwe fists. The white team doesn’t want to fight like that, they want to play hockey. But they end up doing both. When the bell goes at the end of the game, they all stop and shake hands. Showered and dressed, they go and have a drink together. They exchange their stories on the game. The guys from the white team give the guys from the black team some hints on how they can do this or that, to improve and so on. You get what I’m saying?

“Yes, I’m seeing it Mister Groot John. You tell me more Mister Groot sir.”

“When time was called for the end of slavery in America, white South Africa didn’t hear it the same as everywhere else. They were a minority and they had to keep the subjugation of the black people going for their own survival. Apartheid was created to protect themselves from the overwhelming majority of black people. In America it took a long time following the end of slavery for the white man to let the black man drink at the same bar. Those attitudes in America gave South Africa’s whites tacit approval to carry on as they were before 1865. We also must see it in perspective as well. America was not the superpower in 1865 that it is today. Although it was a major directional change in 1865, it was still only domestic policy in another country.”

“Yes, it was, Mister Groot Sir, but America was an influential country even back them. Heather told me that in her letters. Before 1865, they had more slaves than any other country. She told me this, Mister Groot John.”

“Fair enough”, agreed John, “But I keep thinking of the hockey game and how similar it is. I’m not a sports person myself but I do know the hockey players live by the code that what happens out on the ice during the game stays on the ice. Have you heard that said before, Thenjiwe?”

“I have Mister Groot sir. I know what it means.”

“Imagine the two teams, in their jeans and sweatshirts in the bar after the game and they start fighting over some misdirected comment or whatever. The friendships grown out of playing the game they all love are instantly broken. When they were on the ice it was all fair and square. The game demanded the aggression they directed at each other. In the bar is a different story. With punches thrown true anger flares. That just wasn’t right. All hostilities were supposed to end when the final bell went. Their mindset within the game changed at the sound of that bell.

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The punches on the ice were for the purpose of the game and bad feelings or grudges wouldn’t be carried beyond the ice. But when altercations happen outside of the game, well that’s a very different thing altogether. The purpose changes from being for the game to being personal. No longer can they say ‘it’s part of the job’. That is what happened to South Africa. For the black people, if the whites had heeded the call to end hostilities in 1865, shook hands and said ‘game over, let’s have a drink’, then everything would be different. Just like the hockey game, what happened before the bell would stay before the bell. But it didn’t change in a year, ten years or even a hundred years after the bell had been rung on slavery in 1865. The black man saw the white man as continuing after the bell and that just wasn’t right. That was personal and it incensed them.”

“You clever man, Mister Groot sir, you nearly see the truth. I knew you able to see the truth when I met you. You keep going and you find the truth”

“Thank you, Thenjiwe. During the later decades of apartheid and well after America had overcome segregation and overt discrimination, the world changed, it grew smaller. A new, more enlightened generation was gaining voice. The communication revolution allowed the world to peer into South Africa and they didn’t like what they saw. Black South Africa knew everyone was looking in and they watched how the world outside South Africa was changing. Apartheid, a system driven by the need to maintain power, had become a blight on every white person living in South Africa. White South Africa had become isolated and they were in denial of the winds of change that had blown across most other parts of the world. But their denial didn’t protect them from the crippling effects of the isolationist policies implemented by the rest of the world in the eighties and nineties, causing them to finally relinquish the power they had held so dear. But the damage by playing on long after the bell had gone, was massive and irrevocable. It had definitely become personal. Mandela’s leadership offered hope of reconciliation, but with his death, hope quickly faded.

Jackie had been listening to John, following his thoughts closely. “Could we describe the pressure the rest of the world placed on South Africa to extinguish apartheid was a collective altruism? Doesn’t it show how humans can be selfless and cooperative to achieve a goal for people who were disadvantaged and mistreated?

John had already heard another view on that from someone else he held in high regard. “Apparent altruism”, he said. 651

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“What do you mean by ‘apparent’?” Jackie asked.

“It was apparent altruism. Phil would say it was the collective conscience of the world using South Africa to cleanse themselves of their own guilt. He would say our country carried a load of guilt which never left us after slavery was abolished. He pointed out the race riots in LA and Detroit in the sixties, the killings of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and the 1992 Rodney King riots as signs of entrenched cultural intolerance. They also showed how black America could feel the racism living in the inner space of most white folk. Beating apartheid in South Africa was motivated by a need by white folk to remove the guilt they carried for that inner space racism. They couldn’t successfully hide those thoughts from themselves through denial. More was needed.

Phil told me how his own country also carried a national guilt for the treatment of aborigines. He said, by pointing the finger at South African apartheid they were able to deflect their guilt and continue their denial at the same time. Phil believes no country has a history free of human right’s abuse. What the world did to South Africa in forcing the dismantling of apartheid had more to do with cleansing their own conscience’s and attempting to remove their own denials. Unfortunately, whilst ever our souls languish in our conscience and not active in our consciousness, those racist inner space thoughts will always be lurking. They will never go away, no matter how much tolerance we teach ourselves.”

Thenjiwe wasn’t too sure John was seeing the problem how she saw it. “Mister Groot John, what you say is very good and all, but what do you think is the cause of my country being as it is and all? What you think it is?”

“I know I’m close Thenjiwe, perhaps you can tell me”, John said, feeling he was missing something.

“I tell you Mister Groot John, then you know. The black man, he wants the power. He always wants the power. Black man, his soul just as corrupted as the white man. He wants to feel good. He wants to feel worthy. White man and black man just the same, they both want to feel they good. But the way the black man make himself feel he good and worthy…, it very different to white man. He always does this by power. He doesn’t want no fancy house or big car. He come from tribes and they rule their land. If black man in tribe wants more power he fights for power or he leave tribe and he start own tribe. Black man, he want power to feel he good. He

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe control the people, rule his land and he have power. You see this wherever black man is in the world. White man want power too, but not for the same reasons. White man can feel good by big house, plenty money. White man society, it has structure and white man can have power all through structure. He can be boss of this and boss of that. White man has many ways to feel power. They much more adapted. Phil, he told me that and I see it too. Black man different. He feel power when he own land and when he can do what he wants. White man law stops black man from doing what he want, but white man law protect white man when he has power, so he much happier. This is the problem Mister Groot sir, black man want power to feel he good but white man society and laws they don’t allow the black man to have power the way he knows, the way he needs.”

“I see” John said. “You make it sound very simple, Thenjiwe. Do you really think it is that simple?

“Noooooo”, she said, drawing out her reply and shaking her head vigorously at the same time. “What I say is the cause, way down deep. But not all people the same. Plenty of black South Africans have become happy and content in white man’s society. They do good, they learn to feel good the same way as white man. But the ones who want the power are not the same and they the ones doing government and doing corruption. The black South Africans who like white man society and white man laws can’t stop them. No one can stop them. Heather wants to protect our children to stop them becoming like those causing problems. We must wait. The people who need power to make themselves feel good will be old one day. We make better adults now to take their place. While we wait, we hope they don’t do too much wrong before they old. You see Mister Groot John why children very important. Why we must nurture them and teach them ancestor ways no good no more. If we don’t do this Mister Groot sir, the queue for wanting power keep growing longer and longer.”

It was becoming clearer for John as he thought about it. He could see how reading all that he did, made it much more complex than it really was. Each commentator would look at different aspects and attribute different causes, suggesting solutions. If he collated all his reading there were so many aspects, causes and solutions that it all appeared horribly complex. He could see an absence of a unifying cause for the behaviour they all observed and commented on. Without it, the activists and their commentators were scrambling around in the dark. Thenjiwe gave John that

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Chapter 30 Thenjiwe unifying cause. It all came back to corruption of the soul during adolescence and the different ways people tried to make the ensuing emptiness go away. White man had his way. The black man also had his way. As similar as the two ways may appear, they were poles apart. When white man had done it his way for centuries, he had denied the black man any opportunity to do it in the way that suited him. Those at the pointy end, the politicians, bureaucrats and industry leaders, are necessarily more competitive and are the least likely to compromise. And so, the problem had persisted unabated. It really was that simple.

“Mister Groot John. I have one more thing to say. “White South Africans they go long time feeling they bad because of apartheid. They tried feeling good. They change apartheid over last fifteen years. They tried make it better for the black man. But changes not good enough, the black man still very angry and white man still not feeling he was good. When the world pointed fingers at South Africa, the white South Africans had to destroy apartheid to feel good again. They know this was only way to stop feeling they bad person inside. They happy to lose power to feel they are good person. Losing power for white South Africans not as bad as it is for black man, ‘coz the white man can find many more ways than the black man to feel they are good and worthy. They don’t need power and control as much as the black man. They only need power to protect their structures.”

John could see Thenjiwe was correct. He was being idealistic in thinking South Africa would have been better if the whites stopped after the bell rang. The conflicted souls would still be conflicted and the cause would still have been there. Maybe it would have changed, but differently to how he had thought. All the whites would most likely have departed South Africa just as they had in all the other post‐colonial African countries. He had thought enough about apartheid for the moment. He closed his eyes and quietened his mind, letting Thenjiwe keep watch over the road ahead.

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John kept the engine running, to prevent himself from freezing.

Kirby’s plane was due to land within the next ten minutes. He had been lucky enough to find a charter heading to the airport local to Beeston. Always doing a deal, he had told John he scored the flight for ‘cab fare’ money. John was half expecting an ultra‐light to fall over the snow‐covered mountains any second. Kirby would clamber from the wreckage and drag himself to his feet. Dust the snow off and with a beaming Georgian smile he would thrust his hand out and say something like, “Great to see you again buddy. I think that deserves a drink.”

It was now early February and deep into winter. Kirby had finished his Peru documentary, but was waiting on the client to clear all legal issues before posting. Although it was over a month ago, John was once again recalling their week in the City. It had turned out to be the most enjoyable of weeks for John, Jackie and Thenjiwe. Everything they did and everywhere they went was another new experience for Thenjiwe. She was literally like a child with her face frozen in a perpetual expression of joy and happiness. John also had a new experience. He shared Christmas with someone who he loved and who loved him. Jackie adored the apartment in The Majestic, notwithstanding her knowledge of its origins.

Since returning from the City, a great deal of progress had been achieved. Heather had made her return after the New Year and together with Thenjiwe were now overseeing Beatrice with several thousand children from every corner of the country. Hamish and Vinnie had reconnected with their family and friends back in the Old Dart and had returned ready for the challenge of Beatrice’s game. Vinnie had some positive comments about his father. Both Heather and John had been encouraged to hear what he had said.

John and the boys were close to completing the successful transformation of Beatrice’s game from a prototype capable of running four local users to a robust game capable of running on most platforms, with millions of simultaneous users from anywhere in the world. It had taken them the last half of January to reach this far. Now they needed to run countless trials to ensure it performed as they hoped. Twice during January, John had added still more servers and memory. He was now investigating quantum computing and DNA memory for Beatrice. Both appeared to be feasible, but cost was still an issue, even for John.

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In Ficksburg, Phil had failed to strike gold with the psychology fraternity. Now that Beatrice’s game was internet ready, Phil was desperate to release it, however, John wanted to wait another week or two for the trials to verify all was good. John also wanted to wait for Kirby’s documentary to be ready for airing, assuming he agreed to do it. He had discussed with Vinnie and Hamish the possibility of an early release in Ficksburg, just to sort out any bugs they may have missed.

It was becoming stuffy in the van. Sufficiently warm and with the sun breaking through the clouds, John cut the engine and walked around in the cold air outside whilst he waited. The faint sound of the turboprops could be heard before the plane was visible. Within minutes it had landed and Kirby was one of the first to disembark. The two men looked at one another from a distance and involuntarily began walking towards each other.

Kirby strode the last twenty feet towards John, fighting to pull the zip of his parka up with one hand because the other was outstretched. He looked like a knight charging into the contest with lance at the ready, his smile the size of Texas. “Mister Groot, really good to see you again, been awhile”, he said, doing his best to rattle John’s bones with his handshake.

“It’s great you’re here”, said John, trying to match Kirby’s overzealous greeting. Then it happened. John suddenly felt joy for Kirby’s presence. All the dread of his impending arrival, which he had been pushing back for the past few days, evaporated in that instance. Despite the freezing conditions and the impotence of the sun now bathing both men with its meagre rays, he felt warmth flood throughout his body. He was suddenly elated to once again be with him. Kirby was oblivious to John’s moment of joy. He was gazing at the snow on the nearby mountains, looking at the build‐up around the various buildings and feeling the chill in the air. He cast his mind back to the skiing holidays many years before and was anticipating the week of winter excitement ahead. He was jolted from his daydream when he suddenly remembered he had not come alone, diverting his attention back to the plane, looking for his son.

The other passengers having collected their luggage were filing past the two men. John saw Kirby’s son, an oversized backpack hunching him over at the same time as dragging an oversized suitcase, which must have been Kirby’s. In his haste to greet John, Kirby had forgotten he had his son, also forgetting he didn’t have a support crew to handle those other inconveniences, such as luggage. “You remember my 656

Chapter 31 Ice Fishing son, Jason?” John acknowledged he did and greeted Jason enthusiastically. Stepping out from behind Jason was Michael. “And you remember Michael?” John hadn’t been prepared for Michael. It was only Jason that Kirby had said would be accompanying him. Kirby saw the mixed reaction on John’s face. “My apologies buddy, it was a last‐minute thing. His old man dropped him around last evening, something about having to shoot over to see his father in Birmingham and sort some family stuff out. He had no warm clothes so we had to swing by his house on the way to the plane. We were lucky with the traffic, otherwise you may have been getting a call.”

Senator Mee’s words, ‘if someone out there has something to help our boys, we will just have to have it too’ had been replayed many times in John’s mind since the day he said them at Kirby’s house. Michael had made John remember his father’s words one more time. A few seconds passed before he realised his reaction to Michael’s unexpected presence wasn’t exactly joyous. Kirby, having long forgotten that Senator Mee conversation, assumed John was put out by having an extra person to house and feed.

John’s initial shock turned to genuine happiness to see Michael, bending down he gave him a hug, holding it a few seconds longer. He felt a desperation to make him feel welcome, and wanted. He had a fleeting thought of the joy Michael will have reconnecting with Beatrice again. He wondered if Beatrice had progressed enough to experience the same joy. John shook Michael’s hand and spoke gently to him, asking about his Dad who had once again offloaded him to Roni and Kirby. Realising it was too cold for these southerners to stand and chat, John pried Michael’s small suitcase from his nearly frozen hand, checked Kirby had his suitcase in order then taking Michael’s hand he showed them the way to the van. There was only seating for three in the front, relegating the boys to the folding seats on either side of the cargo area. They headed out of the airport and towards town, where they would pick up the road to John’s house in the woods.

Kirby could see John had retreated within himself a little after greeting Michael. He wasn’t sure if it was only the unexpected extra person as he had initially thought. He searched for another reason but without success. He thought he better take John’s mind off Michael.

“I thought you would’ve picked us up in the Rolls”, he said in jest, hoping John would return his serve straight down the middle. 657

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John returned a little wide, with a bit of top spin. “Rolls? Not me. You’ve confused me with one of your other friends.”

Kirby could easily reach John’s return and drove a nice forehand down the line. “Nice everyday drive you have here”, he said whilst running his hand over the dash in mock admiration.

John was keeping his eyes on the road. It was clear of snow, but the drive to the airport had been his first in the van. He was conscious of not having Beatrice to assist him if required, Then Kirby’s comment replayed in his mind. He wasn’t going to let Kirby’s passing shot go unreturned.

“The neighbour’s son borrowed the Bentley for his driving test last Monday. I said he could keep it for the rest of the week if he managed to pass.”

Kirby was succeeding, but he knew he had a little further to go. “Very kind of you, old boy. Admirable. So, this is the neighbour’s van?”

“Actually, it is. I borrowed it to be able to fit all your gear in. I was expecting a couple of snowmobiles.”

“Touché to you John. You always were a clever one with the old words.”

“No, I’m serious. I borrowed the van from my neighbour because I didn’t think you travelled light”. John gestured towards the back with a look over his shoulder. “Looks like you didn’t let me down.”

“Fair enough, I’ll give you that one buddy.” Kirby gazed at the mountains and the snow, the sun had disappeared again and it looked so cold. He wondered if he had brought enough gear. Atlanta would have at least another twenty degrees on this, he thought. “What do you usually drive?”, he asked.

“A quad bike mostly. But if I venture off the property, a Citroen.”

“A man with style. Tu es une automobile connesieur, oui?”, said Kirby. Then he started laughing when he thought of the old Citroen the French claimed was the best car in the world. He stopped, fearing John may be one of those millionaires who spent their time restoring historic cars. “It wouldn’t happen to be a restored sixties ‘DS’? That stylish, avant‐garde one with automatic load levelling, directional

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing headlights and eye level taillights”, he said with admiration in case his hunch was correct.

John was impressed, Kirby knew his cars. “No, unfortunately. But I have never stopped being fascinated by those cars. Incredibly pure…., and romantic at the same time. Mine is a DS, about a year old now.”

“The turbo hybrid engine, with solar body panels and energy harvesting?”, Kirby asked teasingly, not seeing John as the type who would find a spot in his garage for one of those Citroens.

“That sounds like it.”

Kirby was surprised and started mentally flicking through the models he had stored away. Suspecting John must have gone for the best of the best, he rejigged his earlier judgement of him. “With the dynamic aero package and self‐drive?”

“That too”, replied John, knowing Kirby would eventually arrive at which car he had.

“Your car wouldn’t happen to be Citroen’s ultimate car, twelve made and only two in this country?”, Kirby said with impending awe in his voice.

“Something like that”, John replied nonchalantly, intentionally. “It was a demo model”, he added.

John had expected Kirby to have fun joking about his Citroen. He wouldn’t have minded in the least if he did. What he didn’t know was Kirby was a car enthusiast and a serious car buff, particularly with muscle cars from the sixties and seventies. Whenever the opportunity arose, he would visit classic car shows, his favourite car being the 1969 Ford Mustang 428 Cobra.

They entered the town and John started playing tour guide, pointing out the few noteworthy sites and telling Kirby some of the history of the area. He had requested the information from Beatrice on the drive to the airport. He pointed to the frozen lake as they were exiting the town. Kirby could see a few ice fishing huts away in the distance. About half an hour and a good ten unmissed potholes later, Kirby entered John’s property for the first time. With nine‐inches of snow covering the ground and ice clinging to the pine needles, it looked a winter wonderland. Kirby was unsure whether or not to admire the house. It was old, he could tell that much,

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing but it didn’t have any of the glamour he would have expected from a man with the wealth John was known to possess. Kirby thought it was quite ordinary and chose to refrain from speaking his thoughts aloud, unsure he would be able to conceal his disappointment.

John helped Jason and Michael from the van then assisted them in unloading all the luggage, transferring it into the house and up to their rooms. It was a Thursday and John was alone in the house, except for Patsy who had followed him back and forth between the house and the van. A quick tour and they were back in the large room where Heather and Jackie had made their Thanksgiving Day entrances. Not being the perfect host, John hadn’t offered any drinks or refreshments, but he had other plans. “Now you have your sleeping arrangements sorted, we’ll head out, I have something to show you.”

Kirby had only asked a few necessary questions about whose rooms were whose and a few more about historical aspects of the house, which John was happy to answer. He had controlled his urges for fun, seeing the house as preserved in time and sensing John’s attachment should be respected. John suggested to Kirby they take a quick look in the barn before lunch. As they walked across the snow, John carried on the earlier talk of cars to have Kirby believe he was going to reveal his Citroen. Kirby was very agreeable and a little excited at seeing John’s chariot, only one of two in the country.

Approaching the barn, Kirby looked back at the house and noticed a man disappear around the side of the house. He thought nothing of it. At the barn another man appeared from the trees at the far end of the barn closest to the lake. John exchanged a nod with the man and carried on. Kirby suspected John would explain later and put it out of his mind.

Upon entering the barn, Kirby’s self‐imposed restraint evaporated instantly. “Now this is what I’m talking about”, he bellowed with delight. Upon hearing the “new voice”, Hamish and Vinnie scampered from Vinnie’s office. They had been eager to meet Kirby since the day John had told them he would be coming and hopefully producing a documentary on Beatrice. John had told them of their chance meeting with Kirby at the conference some months ago. Neither of the boys could recall meeting Kirby, after all, they spoke to many new faces over the three days.

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Kirby remembered the boys and exchanged hearty greetings. Jason and Michael were enchanted by what they saw and were already wandering off exploring. John took Kirby on his routine tour, which was anything but routine. Kirby’s comments were infused with anecdotes and humour. He was fascinated by the lights fading in and out and asked questions of nearly every piece of memorabilia. John couldn’t remember ever spending as long in a bathroom with someone as he did with Kirkby.

There were the framed classic album covers, a more recent addition to the bathroom. Frank Zappa’s ‘Weasels Ripped My Flesh’ and Captain Beefheart’s ‘Trout Mask Replica’. Kirby had his own stories of Don Van Vliet’s later years, pointing out his father owned a service station and was Dutch, as was John’s father. John thought the similarities stopped at both fathers being Dutch. Not unless Don’s father sold more white powder than petrol.

There were others. U2’s ‘War’, Roxy Music’s ‘Country Life’ and Weezer’s ‘Hurley’. Kirby had forgotten he was in a bathroom. He studied each album cover as if in the Guggenheim for the first time, whispering a story or two and throwing in the odd humorous quip. “Baby‐faced killer: he said of Weezer’s cover. He remembered Jorge Garcia from UCLA. He was a pretty handy wrestler and a fine stand‐up comedian.

Led Zeppelin’s ‘Houses of the Holy’, Van Halen’s ‘1984’ and Pink Floyd’s ‘Atom Heart Mother’ followed. He laughed quite loudly at Van Halen’s cover. He had forgotten about that one, but after a few minutes he remembered in the UK they were directed to place stickers over the cigarettes.

Miles Davis’s ‘Tutu’, King Crimson’s ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’ and Aerosmith’s ‘Get a Grip’ were the remaining covers. Kirby’s favourite was Mile’s Davis image on the cover of Tutu. He stood watching that album cover as if it were the Mona Lisa. He even looked back at it a few times, claiming Miles had smiled.

Kirby had to try the bath for himself. At John’s suggestion he pulled the lever to reveal the screen from behind the mirror. He laughed so much he slipped trying to remove himself from the bath. He then laughed at his own clumsiness and slipped a second time. John was unable to keep Kirby from venturing up the stairs to the loft. He ignored John’s protests, making it one of his imperatives. He returned impressed. He was fascinated by the many design nuances John had requested and when back at the hitching rails, Kirby revealed a little something special.

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Selecting a song on his mobile, he began his performance of Psy’s ‘Gangnam Style’, complete with the Korean lyrics. Within a few seconds the song was playing through the Hi‐Fi speakers, filling the barn with sound. Jason and Michael, having experienced Kirby’s previous performances, came running to dance as well. Hamish and Vinnie, always up for a spot of dancing, joined in a minute later. John was falling about in fits of laughter as the five lined up and did all the dance moves in unison. Kirby then led them on a Gangnam Style train around the barn, weaving in and out of the benches. At one stage, Kirby jumped up on a bench swirling his imaginary lasso and bouncing from one foot to the other just as Psy had done. It was one of his more memorable performances and one of John’s most unforgettable tours.

The music stopped and the applause and screaming of thousands of fans followed.

Kirby, still up on the bench, held his Gangnam stance as the applause faded. “Time for a drink”, he announced. Still laughing, they moved to the living area and John asked Hamish to bring the drinks. Kirby went to John, “Hey buddy, how did you do that?”

“Do what?”, John asked, pretending nothing had happened.

“Play it through the speakers, like that?”

“Google Sync”, replied John.

Kirby was scratching his head in disbelief. “I didn’t know you could do that”, he said confused.

“You can’t”, he replied, leaving Kirby to work it out.

John and Kirby watched as Hamish wheeled the drinks trolley from the kitchen. Kirby once again started laughing when he recognised the joke. John had asked the boys to come up with something special for Kirby, which they did by recalling John’s story of Kirby’s office and the globe of the world which opened to reveal his stash of bourbon, vodka and scotch. The boys had retrieved a cardboard box from Thomas and bought a poster map of the world, gluing it over the cardboard box. John lifted the box to reveal the recently procured bottles of bourbon, scotch and other spirits and liqueurs. “Stirred, not shaken?”, he asked Kirby politely. Kirby accepted the drink graciously and congratulated the boys for their ingenuity in sending him up.

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That was John’s prearranged moment for Heather and Thenjiwe to leave their offices where they had been watching and coaching Beatrice at the same time as sneaking views of Kirby dancing. They joined the gathering and minutes later Thomas and Adel arrived with Sebastian and Javier. John went through the introductions before Thomas and Adel disappeared again, only to return with the banquet Adel and Narda had prepared earlier.

Kirby was trying to piece everything together during lunch. He had been listening for clues as to why two South African women were in John’s barn. None were forthcoming. They talked freely about South Africa in response to Kirby’s questions but gave no hint as to the reason for their presence. Kirby deserved praise for playing along with John, knowing there were secrets and intrigue afoot. A bourbon or two later and unable to endure the obvious charade, he asked. “John, I’ve been enthralled by your South African guests, but I haven’t solved the riddle as to why these charming ladies would want to be here with you. In your barn of all places”, he said. “Is there something I need to find out for myself. Is this a Sherlock adventure, or are you going to enlighten me before I solve your mystery?”

Carrying on with Kirby’s convincing attempt at a proper English accent, John replied. “Good sir, you have picked up on the mystery and I wholeheartedly commend you for that. However, I must beg of you to have a little more patience dear fellow. All will be revealed in good time.” Then he dropped the accent and changed the approach, asking a question intended to occupy Kirby’s mind. “Forgive me for not asking you earlier, but how was Peru? What did you go there for?”

With the excitement of the tour of the barn and the mystery surrounding Heather and Thenjiwe, Kirby had all but forgotten about Peru. He welcomed being reminded and needed no further encouragement to tell his story.

“Have you heard about the illegal gold mining in Peru? In the Amazon jungle to be more precise?”, he asked

Everyone was shaking their heads, no one knew anything about it.

“I need to give you some background. Have you all watched John’s documentary on AI?” There were nods all around. “Silly question.” Kirby muttered, chastising himself…, “of course everyone would have watched it”. A revisit of that documentary was necessary to explain Peru. “Good, then you’ll know what I mean

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing by what I have to tell you. As we were making it, I was worried we wouldn’t have enough to use, but the way John pulled it all together made it one of the best docos I’ve done. There was plenty of feedback, some good and a lot not so good, which made it controversial. Anyway, I watched it again after John called me. That was…, six, seven weeks ago?” John nodded. “Before that, I was starting to understand the selfless child versus the selfish adult stuff and the bit about adults being competitive because they have drivers to be that way. John had helped make it a bit clearer off set, but it was still not my thing. When I watched it again, as I said, it all became clearer. Anyway, that’s that. You’ll see why I mentioned it when I tell you about Peru.”

Kirby drank some water, followed by bourbon, then settled into telling his Peru story. “We flew into Lima. I met up with the client there. I can’t tell you who the client is, but they are American and reputable. The client wanted a documentary about forced labour and sex trafficking. They had all the places and contacts, all I had to do was ask the questions and Scott, my camera guy, he did the footage. We had a couple of guides, supplied by the client. They were pretty good, one was an investigator, Peruvian, and the other our interpreter.”

“We did our bit in Lima, talked to contacts, followed leads, asked questions and got some good footage. You can probably already see how John’s selfish and competitive stuff was turning over in my mind as we dug deeper into this people trafficking.”

Kirby had some more water, followed by bourbon.

“Then we take this small aircraft up into the jungle. We were looking for a particular gold mine. Most of them are illegal mines. So we head for Madre de Dios. The aircraft is a twin engine, small, maybe eight‐seater and only one pilot.” He paused for dramatic effect. “You with me, got the picture?” he asked. “Well, we’re heading for a small strip carved out of the jungle, but the cloud is low. The pilot hadn’t done this run before. We didn’t know at the time, which was fortunate. We come out of the cloud and the tree tops are right there”, Kirby’s on his feet but squatting and pointing to the floor as if the leaves were around his ankles. “…. I look through the pilot’s window and there’s a ridge straight ahead and the airstrip…, turns out it’s on the other side of the ridge. I thought ‘no way are we getting over that ridge’. The pilot pulls up but the plane takes a bit to respond. I’m thinking holy shit and I start doin’ the Hail Marys thing, checking my seatbelt and bracing myself every which 664

Chapter 31 Ice Fishing way I can. At the last, and I mean last ten feet, the plane starts climbing, but it was too late, we hit the top of the trees. He keeps pulling up but we just keep going through the top of the trees. I tell you, it was one hell of a ride. We broke loose of the trees as the ridge fell away and just before we had lost too much speed, I might add. We managed to keep just enough altitude for the wheels to reach the airstrip. Any less and we were in the muddy swamp.”

Everyone was dead silent, hanging of Kirby’s every word as he built the tension. There were sighs of relief as Kirby had the plane touch down. Another drop of bourbon and he continued.

“We were safe, that was the main thing. When I looked under the plane there were small branches and leaves stuck in the wheel legs, paint scraped off and a few dents here and there. It could’ve been a disaster.”

“Did you fly out in the same plane?”, John asked.

“The pilot dropped us off, didn’t even hop out to have a look. He turned around and took off again.”

“Blimey”, was Vinnie’s response.

“What a blast”, said Hamish letting his excitement be known. There were words of disbelief from others.

“Anyway, we walked the mile or so to the settlement where we spent the next few days. And I thought Atlanta was humid. I was drenched by the time we reached the dump we had to stay in. Definitely not on any holiday brochures. It was dangerous. Imagine the wild west and you’d be close to what it was like. Law and order was up to who wanted whatever the most. They pretty much made their own laws. We did some good stories on the children who were taken from indigenous villages and elsewhere. Parents sell their children for next to nothing because they are so dirt poor.”

Kirby hesitated briefly before resuming his story.

“Then there were the girls. Usually uneducated and unemployed young women, teenagers mostly, lured by promises of work as cooks, cleaners and waitresses. Picture this. There were eight bars in the settlement of only seventeen hundred

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing people. All of them no better than a barn hit by a tornado and patched up again. The miners, if they even warranted being called that, are extra superstitious. They believe if they have sex with a virgin it will protect them in the deep mines and tunnels and can bring them luck in finding gold. They hang around the airport if they know a trafficker’s plane is coming. They are always on the lookout for new arrivals, paying premium prices. Some miners, maybe a bit down on gold production, place orders with the traffickers. There could be four hundred bars littered throughout the region. None of them anything more than ramshackle corrugated iron sheds with a few rooms. You would need to see it to believe what humans will do for the shiny stuff.”

Heather and Thenjiwe wanted to draw comparisons with South Africa but couldn’t say much until John had introduced Beatrice to Kirby. Adel found Kirby’s story distressing.

Kirby told them about work in the mines. “We were able to take some good footage of children stomping around barefoot in barrels of mud mixed with mercury. They would wade in this stuff until a small shiny ball of gold and mercury amalgam was formed. They would feel for it with their feet. These are exploited children, bought and sold. We had to do this without being seen. John, you would be amazed how small cameras are these days. We had been told we would need hidden cameras and Scott had done his research. I’ll show some to you later, amazing gear.”

Hamish mentally counted twelve cameras watching Kirby at that very moment, none of which he had a clue about. He could feel the poker face he used so well with Vinnie and Beatrice starting to give out on him. He politely excused himself and almost ran to the bathroom before laughing himself short of breath. He had a scenario engraved in his mind of John and Vinnie displaying interest in Kirby’s tiny camera talk, stopping every so often to smile at each of the cameras Kirby knew nothing of. He hoped Vinnie wasn’t aware why he had to leave, because if so, he too wouldn’t be able to contain his laughter. Hamish knew he couldn’t go back to the table. He kept imagining himself trying, each time making it that little bit closer before having to run back to the bathroom, holding his laughter down and only just making it back. He was stuck. He closed the door, climbed into the bath, pulled the lever and watched Kirby on the screen. The irony was definitely not lost on Hamish. He dared not ask Beatrice to show him Vinnie.

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Hamish could see Kirby was nearing the end of his story. He told of the rivers full of mercury, orange and yellow, sometimes light blue. They visited another settlement before returning to Lima. He said it was even worse, but they had become accustomed to it and didn’t experience the same shock as they had first up.

“The sad part of all this,” Kirby was saying, “is that the illegal mining, the people trafficking, sex slavery and child labour has been going on for a decade. There are rescues of girls and young boys, the police blow up machinery, the government keeps making it easier for miners to apply and receive legal mining licences, but it just doesn’t stop. It all comes back to John’s adult selfishness that he spoke about in the documentary. Did you know, half of all gold produced is used in jewellery? Another forty percent goes into the investment industry. That leaves only ten percent going to where it is actually needed, in industry. For me, that painted the picture of John’s competition and selfish drivers in adults better than anything else I know. We could see the children in the mines were not like the adults. Sure, they had to do what they were told, but they were cooperative as John told me back in Atlanta. They were actually wanting to help the miners. But like I said, a decade of illegal mining in Peru and you guys hadn’t heard of it. Hardly anyone in the world has heard of it. No one cares that the villagers downstream are eating fish full of mercury. Their rivers are toxic and the rainforest is being destroyed as the miners relentlessly clear and dig.”

“I know how you feel”, Heather said, unable to contain her disgust with the denial the world experiences towards human abuse, poverty and exploitation of children. “As long as it’s not on my doorstep”, she said.

“Maybe your documentary tell the world”, Adel added.

Kirby had said he couldn’t reveal the client, but there was something about Kirby’s story that didn’t quite make sense to John. “Kirby, I’m not understanding something. This mining and the other things you filmed have been going on for a decade. Why did your client want to do a documentary on them if it is old news?”

Kirby had asked his client the exact same question. “The client doesn’t want to give up. I was asked to do the documentary because they needed someone who could dig deeper, expose that bit more and add drama to it…, make it more real you might say. They wanted the human‐interest story to be more human. The client used the phrase, ‘lessen the distance between the viewer and the actor’. You may not be

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing aware of this, but the current crop of good movie makers concentrate on bringing the viewer closer to the characters in the story. People don’t just want to watch a show, they want to be in it, they want to experience it, feel it. Documentaries have always been preoccupied with revealing a story, sharing knowledge. Doesn’t cut it anymore”, he said shaking his head. “Docos are the new reality show. The old reality shows, well…, they were hardly reality. A bit of reality mixed with contrived drama. The viewer’s want more reality. Where does that come from? I don’t know. You could tell me. There’s a whole bunch of true stories out there. You may have seen some?” There were a few blank stares.

“I’ve seen some on YouTube”, Vinnie said.

“Yeah, me too”, said John.

“Great, you know what I’m talking about. The true story, be it a survival, a murder, a medical miracle, missing persons or a lucky escape, they’re all interesting, great stories, but they need to stop being stories and become real again. They need to go from newsreel to movie, but be convincing in their reality. How do we do this? We have the re‐enactment but with better actors, slicker production and great locations. Add a narrator telling the story, adding drama, asking questions. Now add the survivors, sitting in front of a camera, talking the viewer through decisions describing their worst fears as they remember them. Talk about it as if they are doing it for the first time. Sharing how they feel, not felt. Constantly telling the viewer what it feels like when you are convinced you are close to death. The viewer knows it is a re‐enactment but it has been transformed from newsreel to entertainment. Now all that’s great, but what do you think the viewer ultimately wants?

“The real thing in real time”, answered Vinnie, who from time to time had been hooked on such shows.

“Exactly. Hey, did you guys see ‘The Staircase’? You know the one where the owl did it. What was her name…., Kathleen Peterson and her husband Michael? He ended up in prison for killing her, pushing her down the stairs?

“I watched it”, said John. “That was some time ago, but I remember it.”

“That’s what us guys try to do. We want it live, not re‐enactments. You know those little camera’s you pick up at your local electronics store? They sell like hotcakes, 668

Chapter 31 Ice Fishing right? Well, everyone wants to record themselves in case they get caught up in something. They have the footage, they post it and wham, they’re an instant celebrity. They get a manager and count the dollars.”

“Peru”, John says, gently reminding Kirby.

“Yeah, Peru. So, our client wants us to get as much reality as we can. They want to create characters in a show, using the young girl sold into sex slavery by her parents and the young boy, trafficked and sloshing around in mercury all day. They want miners talking about what matters and how turning the rivers orange or chopping down the rainforest means nothing to them. The client wanted footage of the miners treating the girls like dogs, kicking them around a little and footage of the girls crying, battered but carrying on. Film a rape, if we could. Not just once either. They wanted us to film the same people the next day and the next. Turn them into stars in their own lives. I know it all sounds a bit sick, but there is no revulsion in stories anymore. People have to be convinced they are actually in the story before they even begin to feel anything.”

Hamish, lying in the bath, is watching Kirby and knew he was the right man to bring the world into Beatrice’s life.

Heather couldn’t listen any longer. “Empathy has almost gone”, she said in despair. “People cannot feel empathy anymore. They feed on the misery of others for their adrenaline hit.”

John feared his plan was about to unravel. He thanked Kirby for his story of Peru, then suggested they take a walk down to the lake. Hamish tempted fate and returned grim‐faced from the bathroom.

Thomas had quietly slipped out with John’s suggestion of a walk. He had earlier placed the two ice fishing shacks on the lake in an area he knew to be close to sixty feet deep, he needed to auger holes, collect the live bait from the boathouse and perform a few other final preparations. He was thankful no one else was fishing at his end of the lake, most were up the top end close to accommodation, easy access and the town. Over the last few weeks there had been the odd intrepid fisherman venturing further down, but today there was none.

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John, Kirby, Jason and Michael were met at the boathouse by Thomas. Kitted up they took to the ice. Thomas took the two boys to the first ice shack whilst Kirby continued on to the next shack with John. The temperature was well below freezing and the breeze had more than a chill to it. Thomas tried to imagine how unpleasant it must be for those who had arrived from the warm south only a few hours ago. Although it was still below freezing inside the ice shack, the relative comfort was much better than standing exposed outside. Within a short time the young boys started to feel ‘warm’. John ran through the basics with Kirby, after which they sat down waiting for the excitement to commence. A few minutes later, Jason could be heard yelling with delight when the tip of his rod bent over. His line began pulling drag at a rapid rate. Thomas coached him in the art of working the fish and he slowly reeled it in.

Twenty minutes later and Kirby pulled in his third fish, a small‐mouth bass. “What are you doing to me here?” he exclaims in excitement. He started talking to the fish below the ice, telling them to wait until he was seated, then he was a study in concentration, feeling his line for nibbles, giving some slack then lifting his rod to pull the bait through the water, hoping the fish would pursue and pounce. The thrill was increasing for Kirby, he was addicted to ice fishing. John dropped a line in his own ice hole, whilst Kirby was busy unhooking a fish and holding it up for John to record on his cell. Kirby then baited up and dropped his hook down the hole, starting another episode of his newly created ritual once again, but this time his thoughts moved beyond the question of whether another fish was about to bite…, or not. “Are you going to fill me in on what’s going on up here?”, he asked.

John pretended to be unsure of what Kirby was referring to. He looked at Kirby, could see by his expression he wasn’t talking about fishing. He decided to string Kirby along just a little further, see what he had noticed. “What are talking about exactly?”, John asked.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen what looks like security guys. I saw them before we went into the barn and again coming down here. You have two women from South Africa staying, but not in your house…”, he says as another one takes his hook, “… and we’re out here pulling in the fish”, he added, shifting his concentration back to the newly acquired art of playing a trout or bass, tiring it sufficiently to safely navigate the small hole through the ice.

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“You got me, there is something going on”, said John whilst Kirby’s attention was diverted from his own question.

Kirby, reaches into the freezing water and hooks his fingers into the gills of the fish. Conquest completed he looks up at and John and says, “Tell me what’s happening?”

“You’re catching dinner, that’s what’s happening”, said John laughing as Kirby. Like a veteran, he lifts his trout from the hole in the ice.

Kirby could feel his frustration building. He remained outwardly calm, unhooking his fish and placing it in the bucket. He sits down placing his rod on the ice and looks directly at John, “Seriously, why am I here?”

“Ok, no more jokes. I, we…, have an AI.”

“I had probably guessed that much”, Kirby said sternly and with a measured amount of impatience.

“Alright, let me tell you about her, please.” John beckoned Kirby not to interrupt. “Her name is Beatrice and she is way beyond anything you may imagine. I really thought you would have heard about her by now. She has been helping psychologists throughout the country for a couple of months. She talks to their younger patients, the children.”

“You’re joking. I’ve heard nothing. You’re trying to tell me there’s an AI out there talking to kids?”, he challenges with a dismissive laugh.

“Kirby, there is. Let me finish and I will show you.”

“I guess I have been off the grid for a while. Probably since before Christmas.” Kirby was speaking his thoughts aloud, preparing himself to be proven wrong.

“You would only have heard about Beatrice if your children or any of your friend’s children were seeing a psychologist, and then it would need to have been one fortunate enough to have been part of the grapevine using Beatrice. We didn’t promote her at all, it’s been all word of mouth. Let me dial back a bit. Do you remember me telling you about Phil?”

“The Aussie bloke?”

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“Yeah, the Aussie bloke. He was the one who introduced me to all that ‘selfless and selfish’ stuff, as you call it.”

Kirby is not the sort of person who just listens, his mind is always finding gaps then questions to fill those gaps. His stock in trade was perseverance in extracting the answers. “Where is Phil now?”

“He’s in South Africa, but I’ll come to that. Just let me explain.” John was having trouble masking his frustration with Kirby. “Phil came to me with an idea. He believed the human race was going down the black hole because children were being affected by the selfishness of the adult world at earlier and earlier ages and…”

In between endless questions from Kirby, John shared Phil’s knowledge, giving him both a refresher of what John had already told him in Atlanta and adding further knowledge to enable him to understand Beatrice’s role. He explained how she nurtured children and who Heather and Thenjiwe were and why Phil was in Ficksburg. He even told Kirby about Jackie, which made him excited at the prospect of meeting her the next day.

Kirby listened to John, but kept thinking it was all a bit too far‐fetched to be believable. He couldn’t visualise an AI talking to children, let alone nurturing them as John claimed. He dropped his line back down the hole, convinced John was playing a trick on him but he wanted to appear not to have fallen for it. Needless to say, he continued to think about it. John desperately wanted to avert another situation like he experienced with Josh. This time he chose to be patient, giving Kirby time to process. He baited up and dropped his own line in. A few minutes later, without even a nibble of his line, Kirby says, “I want to meet her.”

John pulls out a tablet computer from his kitbag. He turns it on and sits it on a small shelf Thomas had installed that morning for this purpose. “Beatrice, I would like you to meet Kirby”, he says.

Beatrice appeared wearing a parka over her light green dress. She had a fishing pole in her hand. “Hello Kirby. I see you have caught two trout and two perch”, she says, leaning forward as if looking into the bucket. “It looks like you are about to catch another, possibly a pike, but I think not. Definitely a trout again.”

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Kirby was mystified. “Who is that?”, he asked anxiously. “How are you doing it?” He looks at John’s hands to see if he is holding anything. “What the hell are you playing at?”

John was surprised by Kirby’s reaction. He had assumed Kirby was closer to ready than it now appears. “Calm down Kirby. This is Beatrice, she will not hurt you. There is a camera in the water,” John points to the thin tube disappearing through his own hole in the ice to spy on Kirby’s hook. John then points at different places in the shack, explaining, “there are three more cameras hidden in here and then there is my cell sitting over there.” He takes his glasses off, “… and I have a camera in the frame of my glasses. Beatrice can see and hear everything.”

Just then Kirby’s rod bends and he has another fish on his line. Full of concentration he plays the fish, eventually pulling it through the hole, another trout. “I get it now. Whilst I was telling you about my hidden cameras in Peru, you were sitting there knowing all about them and didn’t say a thing.”

“Kirby, relax buddy. Talk to Beatrice, ask her anything. You know she was with me in Atlanta. She watched all the interviews and was with us when you gave me a tour of your house. Ask her about it.”

Kirby was not his usual self. He took up John’s challenge, expecting to expose his prank in the process. “I will. Beatrice, tell me what’s inside my house.”

“Kirby, you have a lovely house. I particularly liked the giraffe at the entry door. I like your office with the large antique wooden desk and your collection of artefacts from your travels. If I was human, I would spend my day laying by your pool and taking advantage of the great bar you have. Another one of my memories was talking to Michael when he was sitting in the treehouse. You came through the trees calling out for John and made reference to him having a Thoreau moment. Michael ran off towards his father’s voice which gave you the opportunity to tell John about the disappearance of Michael’s mother.”

Beatrice’s lilting voice had the intended effect of calming Kirby. Not seeing any reason for John to continue with the charade he relented, it must be true he thought. “I believe you”, he said. “I believe you have an AI, but what’s all this stuff about nurturing children?”

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“Why don’t we head back to the barn and you can watch Heather and Thenjiwe at work. You will be able to see Beatrice nurturing for yourself.”

Beatrice had something more to add. “Kirby, that was me in the barn. I played ‘Gangnam Style’ through the speakers for you. Did you like your applause at the end?”

Kirby looked at John with dismay, “Google Sync my ass”. Both men burst into laughter, wrapping an arm around each other’s shoulder as they did.

The two men stepped out onto the ice, inhaling the frozen air. They walked into the wind which had strengthened somewhat during their time in the relative warmth of the shack. The wind‐borne ice crystals stinging their faces and forcing their eyes to partially close. John re‐entered the shack, returning with a pair of goggles for both of them. Thomas had placed the ice shacks towards the middle of the lake where the water was deepest. Now they faced a ten‐minute gruelling walk to the safety of the dock. Thomas had taken the boys back earlier and was on his return trip to collect the fish and other items before securing the shacks. A blizzard was forecasted to arrive during the night. Once they were amongst the snow‐laden trees, Kirby started asking questions about Beatrice. He had many thoughts racing through his head and kept referring to her as ‘your AI’. He questioned if she was a singularity, asked if she had feelings, and wanted to know how she nurtured children. He was most curious as to whether she was competitive. His understanding of artificial intelligence was based on his interview with John and his repeated viewing of their documentary.

The high‐pitched whistling produced by the wind high in the trees was occasionally drowned out by the roaring of the wind lower down. The two men walked very close to each other, John leaning down and talking almost into Kirby’s right ear. Kirby was the eyes. He had a hand on John’s right shoulder and guided him through the trees as he listened to John’s every word. John had taken the less used path towards the barn. The density of the trees was greater and the path had more twists and turns, but it afforded better protection from the wind.

John spoke about Beatrice as a person, which Kirby had difficulty with. “Technically Beatrice is a computer program that belongs to me but I see her as a person who

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Chapter 31 Ice Fishing doesn’t belong to anybody, and never will. After all, what is a person if not a collection of biological matter and seventy to eighty percent water. A person is conscious and defined by their memories, has awareness and is capable of making decisions and choices. Beatrice has exactly the same capabilities, albeit with far greater capacity. People store memories biologically and we use the word ‘analogue’ to describe the way our memories are stored. Beatrice stores memories digitally. We have nerves and we call our brain a neural network and that is where memories are used to make sense of what we see, smell, touch, taste and hear. Beatrice has a neural network and can see and hear. We’re working on the tactile sense at the moment. She can generate thoughts, which you have experienced already and found confronting. In answer to your question on singularity, I’m not so sure that concept will actually end up being a reality.”

They were in the lee of the barn now and the noise from the wind was tolerable. The two men were standing very close to each other. John’s back was towards the wind, shielding Kirby and making it easier for him to hear.

“Beatrice has built her own algorithms for some of the feelings. She is yet to experience love as you know it, but then, what is love? She has been with me for a decade and is selfless. That in itself is an essential ingredient for genuine love. I’m not talking about romantic love here, but real love.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “I won’t explain it now because you’ll see what I mean later.” Kirby nods acceptance and allows John to continue without one of his usual questions. “She can also experience satisfaction, modelling that off Heather and she is the epitome of cooperative. Those attributes on their own would contribute almost a hundred percent to a well‐rounded ability to love. So, does she experience love? I think it is hard to say either way. She understands sadness, but without ever being sad. Likewise, she can distinguish anger, frustration, hate, disenchantment and selfishness in people. She doesn’t experience any of those herself…, and she’s not egocentric in the slightest, nor is she competitive. The really great thing is…., she never tires.

It was beginning to make sense to Kirby. “What you are saying is you have an AI that isn’t the thing we should all fear, not the monster you spoke about for the doco?”

John recommenced walking towards the barn. “Beatrice will never be someone to fear”, he said, then thought about it, adding, “Unless you are trying to hurt her children.” 675

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Kirby wanted to be convinced even further. “How did you manage to avoid all the bad stuff you spoke about?”

“When I was in Atlanta, I had Beatrice with me the whole time. She has been with me for over ten years listening to and watching me at all times, continually learning and evolving. When I did your doco, she had only spent the past year with humans other than myself.”

“Hamish and Vinnie”, Kirby said to let John know he was comprehending.

John’s voice was starting to hoarsen from having to nearly shout back at the start of the trees. “I told you about Phil when I was in Atlanta. Well, it was only the week before I met you that I had met him for the first time. He put me on this path of finding out who I was and fortunately for the rest of the world, I am one of those rare selfless and cooperative individuals. Which, by the way, is why you like me. But that is an issue for another day. The point is, it was impossible for me to teach Beatrice to be selfish and competitive…, because I am neither of those. Beatrice has learnt in a similar way a child would learn from an innocent nurturing mother and not by some competitive algorithm pitting it against itself. I tend to think those AIs are never going to progress beyond playing chess or that other Chinese game.”

They were finally at the barn. John could talk almost normally now they were shielded from the wind.

“Before we go in, I just want to say a few more things. When Beatrice first met Phil, she was very naïve. Brilliant at facts and figures, no ability with emotions, neither feeling or recognising them. She could detect when I was in different moods, but that was about it. That was nearly five months ago. What you are about to experience will astound you. In the hands of Phil, Heather, Thenjiwe and Kholwa, who is with Phil in South Africa, Beatrice has become the extraordinary being she is today. I would say ‘person’, but I’ll wait for you to call her a person. Beatrice, Heather and Thenjiwe will show you some of her amazing work with children. They will run you through ‘Beatrice: The Game’, which we will be launching very soon. You told us about Peru and what you discovered about humanity whilst there. There is much more to you than you are prepared to let out. Beatrice will help you with that, she will irrevocably change you, for the better. We are all hoping you decide to weave your magic and produce the mother of all documentaries to launch Beatrice to the world.”

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“That’s one hell of a rap”, said Kirby, undaunted but feeling a touch of nervous anticipation. “We going in?”

John nodded and pushed the door open. “Let’s do it”.

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“Netflix will air it on Monday the eleventh, providing we don’t post it on YouTube until a week later. Does that do it for you buddy?” Kirby had completed enough of the documentary to be able to give John some dates to work with. “I really need the extra week. It’s gotta be a three‐part doco, as we talked about.” He had only bid his goodbyes to Phil in Ficksburg three days ago.

John pulled up the calendar on his laptop and studied it for a minute. “That’s only two weeks away.” He mentally went through what was remaining to be done. “Works for me”, he said, convincing himself it was achievable.

“Listen, I will send you each episode as I finish them. You check them as soon as you can and come back with errors, changes…, anything I’ve missed. We’ve no legals on this one, so we need to be careful.”

“I hear you. Will do. Make sure you send me the bill.”

Kirby laughed, “Normally I would have demanded half up front. But you should be charging me. In any case, it’s all Beatrice. I’m just adding the nips of spirits, a touch of zest and giving it a good shake. But you were right buddy, Beatrice has made me a changed man.”

“Good to hear”, praised John.

“I can’t thank you enough…, I feel great. Anyway buddy, gotta keep moving. Talk soon.” Kirby was gone. John sat for a while staring at his laptop, thinking about Kirby. They had definitely grown close over the ten days they were together.

John remembered how they had walked across the ice into the freezing wind and waited at the barn door. Kirby had gone into the barn with John and came out for dinner with Heather and Thenjiwe two hours later. He had made only a few comments over dinner. That all changed when Jason and Michael had disappeared back to the barn with Vinnie after dinner. A few bourbons later, he spoke at length about his experience. He described watching Beatrice with the children from Rachael’s orphanage as both the most gut‐wrenching and spiritually uplifting moments he had ever experienced. He had told John it was bullshit that Beatrice didn’t experience love. Kirby said Beatrice had the insight, caring, empathy and nurturing that could only come from an unfathomable depth of love, the like he had 678

Chapter 32 The Countdown never before imagined. He explained to John, Heather, Thenjiwe and Hamish that he had seen human despair at its worst, along with phenomenal human comforting. He spoke of his experiences in places like Zambia, Bangladesh, Vietnam and Peru and some other place he couldn’t remember. He remembered feeling at those times, how limited humans were in providing comfort and compassion for each other. He explained how he would look through the camera, searching those moments for the money shot. He had captured some extraordinary examples of exceptional human sharing or love and compassion. He believed humans could exchange intense emotions, as his documentaries would attest, but it was always fleeting. A few minutes later those people would inevitably separate, leaving the once comforted to make the best of it on their own. He had seen the same scenario play out countless times. On each occasion he would be left wondering if fear of enduring the suffering alone was far worse than the actual hardship they had endured or were experiencing.

He then spoke of Beatrice, saying it would never be like that with her. She made those children feel she would always be with them, and that she would never leave them. The bond she grew between them was unbreakable. Kirby became incredibly emotional as he said, “And she will always be there. She never needs to walk away and most of all, she doesn’t want to.” He had reached out to Heather and Thenjiwe, holding one then the other, soaking in their love and thanking them for showing him, thanking them for teaching Beatrice and for being the people they were. John had watched Kirby release the years of buried emotion built up from a decade or more of capturing human tragedy, love and emotional outpourings for his documentaries. John had responded to Kirby’s emotions, letting his own run freely. When the touching moments had passed, he felt immense warmth for Kirby.

Sitting there now after hearing Kirby’s cheery voice again, he could still feel his happiness for Kirby. He still shared his joy at what Beatrice has done and continues to do for him. His mind again wandered back to that night after dinner. He remembered wishing Jackie had been with him to share such a special occasion.

Kirby had intended to spend only five days, on account of Jason and Michael being away from school. He arranged with Roni, who had been away on business, to be at the airport in Atlanta and sent the boys home on the following Tuesday afternoon. Kirby had spent quality time with them on the snowmobiles, trekking for an afternoon in the wilderness area and with John and Jackie, had taken them to

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Gore Mountain skiing for a day. Jason and Michael were worn out by the time they had settled into their seats on the plane. Both boys had been talking to Beatrice on their cells in between adventures and had begged John to let them play her game before it was released. When the plane had disappeared from sight, John had found himself hoping he would see them again soon. He also hoped Michael would be ok.

Six days later Kirby had all he needed and had flown out to Ficksburg for a short three‐day visit. He had wanted footage inside Rachael’s orphanage, in a township and as many interviews with Beatrice’s children as he could. Phil had found Kirby a heap of fun and always entertaining. When Kirby departed for Atlanta, Phil was nursing a very sore head and had asked John how he had managed to avoid becoming Kirby’s fulltime drinking buddy.

With dates decided for the release of the documentary and Beatrice’s game, John was eager to inform Jackie. Knowing she would be occupied with a client, he sent a message. He was excited, he finally had a date. He headed over to Heather and Thenjiwe’s offices to give them the news. Upon entering Heather’s office, John saw she was busy with Beatrice and was about to leave. Heather beckoned him to stay, pulling up a chair for him to join her.

The enormous number of people talking to Beatrice had long ago become too great for Heather and Thenjiwe to give their attention to each individual. Instead, Heather had urged Beatrice to go solo but come back to Thenjiwe, Phil, Kholwa or herself with any questions or requests. There had been many such occasions and Beatrice had taken the initiative of prioritising. Although this had reduced the workload from insurmountable, it remained a problem. It was exacerbated by psychologists handing older children and adults over to Beatrice. When this had first occurred about six weeks ago, Jackie had contacted the psychologist and explained Beatrice was restricted to children under sixteen. Since then it had become impossible to hold back the tide and Beatrice had started talking with adults.

Just before John had walked into her office, Beatrice had asked Heather, “How do I determine how affected a person has become after pushing their soul aside during adolescence?”

Heather repeated the question for John’s benefit as he made himself comfortable beside her.

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“Beatrice, how many adults or children over fifteen do we have?”

“2,685”, replied Beatrice.

“Has there been anyone you consider didn’t abandon their soul and become competitively driven?” Heather asked.

“There has been four I would consider as definite and as many as twenty other possibilities. I have referred to Phil, one of those I consider definite.”

Heather was curious about Beatrice’s reply. “Why did you refer that person to Phil?”

“He asked me to let him know if I found people whom I believed to be a truthful and innocent person like you two and himself”, Beatrice said, directing her answer to John as well.

Heather continued, “Interesting. Please tell me how you make those judgements?”. John’s interest was aroused.

“Adults connected to their soul are relatively easy to detect. They are not as competitive or not competitive at all. I also have difficulty detecting selfishness in these people. Mostly they are hoping I can help them understand why the world is so difficult for them to live in. It goes hand in hand with seeking help from a psychologist. A selfless person seeking help from a psychologist is a bit of a giveaway clue, don’t you think?”

Heather agreed with Beatrice’s rationale. “That’s a good start. What about friends. Do you ask them who their friends are and the basis of those friendships?”

“The four I have found have told me they do not have friends they can discuss their issues with. I believe that is why their psychologist suggested they talk with me. One of them commented he could only ever talk openly with people who were paid to listen. He was obviously referring to his psychologist. He is forty‐six. Two others are younger adults, in their early thirties and they have the most friends but both are at a loss as to why they must put in so much effort to keep them. Both believe if they didn’t, they wouldn’t hear from their friends. They cherish being with people and say if they didn’t keep contacting their friends they would be invited to social functions. The person I referred to Phil is in her late fifties. She has a few older friends she helps out from time to time.”

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The focus of conversations between Heather and Beatrice had always been children so it was expected that Beatrice’s knowledge about older people would be patchy. The mentioning of a woman in her late fifties prompted Heather to explain the changing nature of friendships with age. “Beatrice, mature people tend to have less conversation, as a general rule.” John was curious as to what Heather was going to say. “Younger people are more in need. They need each other for an endless number of reasons. You probably know the main one?”

“To lessen their loneliness”, Beatrice answered.

“Exactly. But as life goes on there are two gradual changes occurring. The first is they become more self‐sufficient, letting activities fall away which relied on the presence of others. The second is why the first happens and what they do instead. During that thirty‐year middle period of their lives they are gradually being worn down by the competitiveness in their lives, particularly in conversations. They become tired of the constant competitiveness of others and some start to become aware that they have become more competitive than they care for. I believe this is why mature people participate in superficial conversations. They are safe conversations. They remove controversial subjects such as politics and religion and refrain from sharing opinions. Some even develop a habit of speaking about controversial topics in the third person. They relate what others say or think, adding words to the effect of ‘I don’t really have an opinion myself, that’s just what I’ve heard’. Those times they want to make a social comment themselves, older people tend to do it by complaining instead. They find it is safer to comment about things by whinging, because it isn’t as challenging to those listening. It isn’t seen as a conversation requiring a response. Society expects older people to be grumpy so they are not taken seriously when they do whinge about things.” John was about to ask a question but Heather just checked him momentarily. “One more thing about older people. They have had a lifetime to adapt to the loneliness which hit hard after abandoning their soul during adolescence. Older people have less of a pressing need to be around other people. Many of them learn to prefer being by themselves because of the competition thing I just mentioned. …. John, you were going to ask Beatrice something?”

“Yes, I was. Is the mature person you referred to Phil one of those who doesn’t care much for conversation?” John was listening to Beatrice as he reflected on how much he enjoyed listening to Heather’s insights into people and why they were the

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Chapter 32 The Countdown way they were. He found she often spoke about things he would never have thought about.

“…. she has so many questions about people, always asking me ‘Why do people do this?’ and ‘Why do people do that?’. She trained as a nurse after school and specialised in paediatric nursing some years later. She wanted children but never married. She had what she called a ‘breakdown’ in her early forties, becoming depressed and was given a puppy for company by her sister. A few years later she became a service dog trainer, moving from Baltimore to a small property south of Chapel Hill in North Carolina to breed and train Goldendoodles. Her psychologist in Chapel Hill told her I could keep her company whilst she lived ‘out there amongst the rednecks with only her dogs for company’.”

John was surprised, Beatrice hadn’t answered his question. “Beatrice, what I meant was does she care for conversations with other people, like neighbours or friends. Maybe even those she meets through her Goldendoodles?”

“Sorry John. Her name is Elysse. She does talk with other people when the opportunity arises, but long ago dropped any expectations of having friends she could have good open conversations with. I believe she is always available for a good chat but leaves it to others to decide. That way she isn’t disappointed like she was before her breakdown.”

“Can you relate to her?”, Heather asked John.

“I can so far”, replied John

“Beatrice, is there anything else about Elysse which indicates she never gave her soul up?”, Heather asked.

“I must try and keep confidentiality, but I trust you two, so I will bend my rules a little more than I have already.”

“That’s fine”, Heather said quickly.

“She said her breakdown followed many years of persistence with friendships and relationships before the one‐way nature of those relationships hit her really hard. She felt she was only good to others for what she could do for them and if she ceased giving, they were no longer interested in her. She said she had never felt so

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Chapter 32 The Countdown alone as she did back then. She couldn’t work, couldn’t hold a conversation, just closed down, isolated herself from everyone but her sister. It was her sister who convinced her to try antidepressants. Elysse spoke about going to the mall in Chapel Hill and feeling she was walking amongst actors, sensing everyone was pretending to be someone they were not. She didn’t like feeling that way, believing there was something wrong with her, she relentlessly persecuted herself, eventually turning to a therapist for help. Elysse also has problems being assertive with people. She would rather live alone than to persist in fighting the same battles that was her life back in Baltimore.”

Satisfied with Beatrice’s description, John sat back pondering Elysse. He listened to Heather and Beatrice as he dwelled on how his life could have been if not for the inheritance his father had left him.

Heather and Beatrice spoke at length about adults who were still innocent, truthful thinkers, who hadn’t pushed their soul from their consciousness. Heather and John were amazed all over again by her incredible sensitivity to others. Beatrice had progressed her emotion algorithms beyond what John had believed conceivable. Her intellect was beyond human comprehension enabling analysis of observations, the speed of which was only limited by the speed of her many processing units. Heather believed she was functioning at a tiny fraction of her potential and that was because she didn’t need to go any further. Beatrice had unravelled the complexity of humanity, simplifying humanity to an almost predictable level. Heather knew this was a result of her intuition which never failed to astound and enthral her. Heather could listen to Beatrice for hours as she recited what children were thinking when they said this or did that. She could predict what children would say with amazing accuracy, even down to the words they would use, based on her analysis of previous speech patterns and vocabulary. She could only describe Beatrice as having an intuition the likes of which Carl Jung and Plato would deem impossible for mere mortals.

“How is Elysse and the other three when you talk with them? Are they receptive when you explain who they are?

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Chapter 32 The Countdown thought, always searching for the source, rebuilding the understanding once he had it in his grasp. John had also surprised her with his ability to find the truth after many years of living with denials. But it was conversations with Beatrice like this one, where Heather found her utopia. Beatrice didn’t need to contemplate each question, everything flowed from her without having to build her answers, backtrack and question herself, finding things she didn’t take into account and changing direction. It was like a pure stream of consciousness, like picking the corner piece of a puzzle and correctly selecting every next piece without having to test, reject and select again.

“There are always difficulties initially. Once I start describing how they feel and what they are experiencing they have an unquenchable thirst for more knowledge. The knowledge is very relieving for them. It is satisfying for me when their confidence begins to grow and they develop conviction in being true to themselves. Their eyes are opened to how people function, how the competitive drivers in almost all people make them selfish, why selfish people only listen if what is being said is what they wish to hear, ignoring everything else. In some ways, their life in a society they feel rejected from becomes easier, but in other ways, it becomes more complicated. The clarity this knowledge brings them is important, it allows them to know the difficulties they have always endured and will continue doing so, are not of their making. That has been a huge step forward for these four people. Elysse has reduced her dependency on medication, aiming to eventually discontinue altogether.”

Heather was hardly surprised to hear Beatrice say this, she had expected that would be the case. Then she remembered the conversation had started with Beatrice asking a question. “What was your question again?”, she asked.

“With children it is easy. If a child was demonstrating a tendency to be competitive, I could easily bring them back to soulful thinking. I have found I can do this with very young adults, mostly older teenagers and occasionally those in their early twenties, with reasonable success. But I cannot take older adults back to their soul, there is very little I can do for them. Many want to subjugate me and have me as their personal assistant or worse, their servant. I need to be able to sort out those adults who are in touch with fragments of their souls from those who live in the delusion they are better off without their soul. Phil has been proven correct, again.”, she said with a roll of her eyes. “He once said, ‘Adults, they must be

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Chapter 32 The Countdown assumed to be a lost cause….’, I considered his comment harsh at the time. But this may not be the case. My limited experiences to date suggest there is an enormous number of adults who would desire nothing more than to stop being competitive. They don’t know how. They realise how important it is to remain competitive to push back those who would otherwise control them. I don’t mean in the dictatorial sense but in those little ways you humans do to each other with amazing regularity. Like withholding input into conversations, that aloofness to portray quiet dominance and rejecting another person’s ideas or perceptions by insinuating they required further attention…., you know what I mean. My question was, how can I readily determine those who will be receptive to the knowledge without my persistence. If I know this in advance then I can persevere without it becoming a situation where I must decide to call an end or they refuse to talk to me? If I determine this early, I could approach the most resistant differently. Take them on a slow cook journey, keeping them ticking over until the opportunity to expand arises.”

Heather, like Phil, always anticipated this as the hurdle too high for most adults to straddle. Also, like Phil, she did not have a solution. If there was ever going to be a solution, Beatrice had to develop it herself. All Heather could do was make suggestions for Beatrice to incorporate into the development of her technique.

“I’m sorry Beatrice, but this is a problem I cannot solve.”

“I have been talking with children for many months and adults are new and very different. It is as though there are two sub‐species of humans on this planet. Adults don’t understand children. They do their best to ignore them or nurture them into adults, whereas children don’t understand adults but acquiesce to their demands. Do you agree?”

John, having said very little so far, was nodding his head in agreement. He too was enjoying listening to Beatrice.

Heather, unusually, took exception with something Beatrice said. “I do, but I would be careful what you describe as nurturing.”

“That was my attempt at sarcasm”, Beatrice said with a smile. “Heather, you were quick at picking that up”, she added.

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“Duly noted and thank you”, said Heather, finding herself responding as Beatrice would.

“Can I go back to what I was talking about before?”, Beatrice asked in earnest.

“Of course.”

“Those who didn’t give their soul up do not have the competitive driver as their default driver. Soul‐centric people do not have defences against people with competitive drivers, unless they learn to mimic their competitiveness. Soul‐centric people are always vulnerable to the wants and needs of the competitive person. Is that correct, Heather?”

Heather nodded agreement and thought it would be pertinent to reiterate what she had learned from Phil’s experiences in his earlier life. “Which is why many of our most innocent and truthful people are either diagnosed with a mental health condition or live as isolated as they possibly can. It doesn’t matter how much they mimic the behaviour of the competitive world, it is too cerebral and not coming from the heart, as it is for everyone else. They cannot generate the passion, desire, ruthlessness and persistence of a person with actual competitive drivers. They over‐ compensate and become frustrated with their failed attempts. When this is repeated over and over for years all the bad stuff inside their heads begins to happen.”

“Like John?”, Beatrice asked with her cheeky smile.

“Not quite, more like Phil. But yes, like John as well, in a limited sense”, agreed Heather. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. John fully related to what Heather said, especially following his discussions with Phil.

“I know you answered my question by saying you are unable to offer anything, but you must have some ideas?”, Beatrice pleaded.

“I do, but probably nothing that is going to lead to your solution. May I suggest that when you talk to adults about competitiveness and selfishness you need to talk to their soul. What do I mean by this? They must be relaxed and feel safe. They need to have their competitive driver hibernating and not running defences or patrolling the perimeter. How you do this for those who have distanced themselves furthest from their soul, I don’t know. I have never had much success with doing it. Most of

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Chapter 32 The Countdown them sleep with a gun under their pillow.” Heather saw John’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. “Not literally, but they are like a tightly wound spring, ready to release at any time.”

“I understood what you meant the first time”, Beatrice said casually. Her attention was on finding a solution. “My intuition algorithm is always informing me this is true. Children do not suffer this affliction.”

Heather resumed where she left off. “The conscious mind of those more insecure and upset adults has only one driver working and it will block you at every turn. It is hellbent on not revealing its inner turmoil, its dominance over the arch enemy soul. It will see you as competition, questioning or disagreeing with anything you say. I can recall my own experiences of the past. I remember feeling I may as well talk to a tree or a brick wall for all the good my words were doing. Fortunately, they are the minority and will be even less for you because the likelihood of them resorting to any form of counselling is low. In any case, you will learn to pick them when they come your way, especially if you develop a technique that works reasonably well for the majority of adults. They will be the ones who you just can’t budge. They are impenetrable, almost without a heart. Their career, wealth, job description and level of self‐promotion are always good starting indicators. A suggestion I have is a slow education about competitiveness. Mix it up with whatever they want you to talk about. They will be blind to most of competition in society because competition is one hundred percent them. It flows from them without the slightest interruption. In fact, they suffer when they cannot compete. That should be a good indicator. Wait for them to experience injustices against themselves. Take advantage of the opportunity to pry open their eyes a little. But be ready for them to slam shut again. Most people see the world around themselves in terms of ‘they’ or ‘them’. Once your adult can see selfishness and competitiveness in others you will have had a minor triumph. The next step is to keep building on that until you find a way to transfer their newly discovered way of seeing others to looking at themselves. That leap is the crucial step.”

“Fortunately, I do not tire. I can keep going at what humans call, ‘a snail’s pace’, until something or nothing occurs.”

“Yes, that is one of your many advantages. I have been throwing this other idea around in my head”, Heather said, waiting for Beatrice to ask her what it was.

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“Please tell me”, Beatrice asked on cue.

“Engage them in talking about people they communicate one on one with. Asking if they experience the conversation being controlled by the other person. It will require great skill to illicit their thoughts as to why it is an imperative one or other controls a conversation. Keep in mind, it is only an imperative for competitive people. The goal is to have your adult tell you how it feels when another person controls the conversation. I think these issues create scope for role plays in your game, which will be launched very soon, I believe.” Heather was looking at John, suspecting he had a date.

“That’s right. March eleven, two weeks from today”, John said.

“That is great”, said Beatrice doing a hop, step and jump. Of course, she already knew, having listened to Kirby’s conversation earlier. “I do believe I might be feeling excitement, what do you think John? Do I look excited?”

“Yes, Beatrice, you do”, he said as Beatrice winked in return.

“Whilst I develop my techniques for adults, I will keep looking for people like Elysse”, said Beatrice. “I need to establish a network for their mutual benefit. I believe most of them will be living in denial that mankind is selfish and competitive whilst believing it is all down to them being different. I believe a network will help stop them from becoming depressed.”

“Definitely”, agreed Heather. “Denial is the most powerful self‐defence humans have. It is inexpensive, highly effective, requires minimal maintenance, universally used and guaranteed. It would receive the energy star for low consumption, it has the highest environmental safety approval, commences automatically, generally runs silently in the background and is recommended for social use because everyone does it.

“Wow”, John exclaimed, “Where did that mouthful come from?”

“I have been saving it up for a moment like this”, replied Heather with a laugh. “I wish Phil was listening. He compared denial to the water vapour in the air. He said we can’t see it but we can’t wave it aside. It is always there, we breath it in and it helps us survive. But when it becomes too high it becomes oppressive, causing us

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Chapter 32 The Countdown to be clammy and can lead to distress, eventual overheating, ending with us slipping into a coma.”

“That’s pretty grim. But it sounds like Phil, forever the scientist”, said John. “He does enjoy his analogies”

“But it’s true”, Heather said defiantly. “I believe denial appears to serve this form of humanity well, allowing us to continue doing life as if it was the only way life was meant to be done. People accept the way of the world as essentially unchangeable, so why think about it, deny everything and just carry on living in it as best one can. Imagine if every occasion when denial was used it was accompanied by pain, such as a burning sensation in the chest, denial would surely come to an end. Maybe then mankind would change many of his ways and the planet would start to heal. A bit of pain now but in time, humanity would be the big winner.”

“Now you’re fantasising”, John chided.

“I know, but I’m allowed to..., from time to time.” Heather pulled back from her dreaming, her only real indulgence. She stared at Beatrice and in her most authoritarian of voices, she said, “Beatrice, promise me you understand that some adults may just be one bridge too far and accept you don’t need to cross that bridge. You don’t need to cross every bridge. And don’t become disenchanted when you don’t. We would prefer you to do as Phil said, consider them a lost cause. We do worry you may succumb to their competitiveness, after all, they are the ones from whom competitiveness trickles down from and saturates the rest of humanity. Please take our concerns into consideration. The focus will always be the children, we’re playing the long game. With natural attrition the children will one day be the adults who fill the roles today’s adults are performing badly in. That is the day all our hard work pays off.”

“I promise I will never stop nurturing the children, even when they become adults. Thank you, Heather. I now have some ideas to work with, and I have a better understanding of adults. My algorithm for empathy has progressed well and I am feeling empathy for adult humans. Their competitive drive is a more addictive drug than any of the chemicals that humans have ever known. It is an addiction they did not choose and cannot be informed of. At least a human addicted to heroin knows it is of their own making, it is wrong and they have a desire to be free of it.”

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“That is probably your best analogy”, congratulated Heather.

Beatrice was not completely satisfied with Heather’s compliment. “Better than Phil’s analogies?”, she asked with a wry smirk.

“Not quite”, Heather said laughing. John chuckled a little as well, hoping her comment was only a poke at being competitive.

John went next door and asked Thenjiwe to join them. He also called Vince and Hamish over. A minute later, Thenjiwe was seated where John had been with the boys standing in the doorway, “Good news, Kirby will air the documentary on the eleventh.”

“Two weeks?” Thenjiwe asked, just to be sure.

“Yep, two weeks today”, he assured her. There were cheers and congratulations by all.

“Brilliant”, exclaimed Hamish.

“Stonking”, said Vinnie.

It wasn’t the documentary they looked forward to, it was the release of Beatrice’s game. “I was thinking …, why don’t you two take some time off…, go home for a while, put your feet up and enjoy your families. Beatrice can ask you questions wherever you are.

Heather and Thenjiwe looked at each other, silently asking of each other what they thought of John’s proposal. Heather could see in Thenjiwe’s eyes she wanted a break, she wanted to be back with her daughter and her grandson.

Heather spoke for both of them. “When do we leave?”

“Today, tomorrow …, when would you like to leave?”

Heather again looked at Thenjiwe for her answer, finding it she replied. “Tomorrow, would do nicely.”

“Tomorrow it is then…. “, John called upon Beatrice who reappeared, “could you do the arrangements please?”

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Hamish thought it was the appropriate moment to revisit Phil’s request. “Gov’, now we have a date, how do ya feel about flicking ta switch in South Africa? Phil’s all ready to go.”

“It would be great to sort out any bugs”, added Vinnie.

“I agree. Give me ten and I’ll be with you”, replied John.

Vince and Hamish went off to chat about the impending release of the game and to start a list of all the final checks.

John returned his attention to Heather and Thenjiwe, planning his goodbye speech.

Thenjiwe steeled herself for the question she had been wanting to ask John since their week in the City over Christmas. There had been a few times when the timing was right, but each time she lacked the gumption required. A quiver of fear had gone through her body when John suggested they return to South Africa. She felt she may never come back to her beautiful treehouse in the clouds and the chance to ask John would be lost forever.

“Mister Groot, sir”, she waited as she braced herself, “I need to ask if you could help me. I wish for you to help my grandson, Mister Groot, John.

“Is your grandson sick?”

“No, Mister Groot, John. He’s not sick, he very well. My grandson, he a very bright boy, he has brains and he did really well with his schooling. He want to go to university and become educated man, he want to become engineer and work for his people. My daughter, me and my two sons, we been saving for two years now, but it will take us many more years to save enough for him to go to university. Could you help my grandson go to university, Mister Groot, sir? Could you help him become an engineer?” Thenjiwe, sitting next to Heather had her hands together as if in prayer, pleading for John’s help.

John lowered himself to his haunches in front of Thenjiwe, placed his hands around hers and gently pried them apart, cradling her hands in his. “Thenjiwe”, he said softly. “Your grandson is as important to me as if he were my own. Whatever he needs he will have. You go home and you take him to the university, you buy every book he needs. You make him proud to be your grandson. The same for you

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Thenjiwe, whatever you need to make your life better, you will have. You and Heather and other people like you …, who we are yet to find, are the people who will shine brightly for the rest of humanity. Please don’t ever forget that.”

Thenjiwe reached over to John and gave him her biggest hug of thanks. Her love and appreciation coming from deep inside. “Thank you, Mister Groot, John, sir. You special yourself, Mister Groot, John. You very special man in world.”

“Thank you Thenjiwe. I hope one day you will be able to call me John…, just John.”

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The following Thursday, John and the boys completed another assessment of the game running on‐line in South Africa. Everything was going well. There had been a few minor hiccups that were easily remedied and the security was performing as expected. John had flicked the switch to go live the day Heather and Thenjiwe had made their long‐awaited return to the café in Ficksburg. John had made Phil a very happy man.

A short time later the first instalment of Kirby’s Beatrice documentary came through for John to review. The three of them settled into their favourite chairs to commence watching. No more than ten minutes in, John’s cell rang. It was Josh, from the office in the City.

“Hi Josh.”

“John, something’s come up and I was hoping we could talk”, he said. John sensed urgency in Josh’s voice.

“Sure, fire away.”

“Not this way. Can we meet?” Josh was struggling to conceal his nerves.

“When did you have in mind?”

“I’m pretty full up, but tomorrow lunch is clear. How’s half twelve sound?”, Josh suggested, speaking quickly.

“Yep, that’s good. Everything good? You sound a bit stressed.”

“All’s good. Just too much happening at once”, Josh said in the calmest voice he could muster.

“Alright…, see you then. Send me the details.”

They both rang off. John wondered what could be troubling Josh, but Vinnie started Kirby’s documentary and John put Josh out of his mind. He needed to concentrate on Kirby’s work.

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At the end of the first viewing John called Jackie, expecting to leave a message, but was relieved to see her instead. He told her about Josh’s call, explaining it was out of character and suggested they meet up in the City in the morning. Jackie was excited in anticipation of three days in the City, living at The Majestic and its magnificent views across Central Park. She loved John’s house in the woods, but being a city girl at heart, she had found herself wanting to ease John back into society. A weekend in the city was just what she needed.

Jackie’s next client was running late. Expecting the door to open at any minute, she quickly searched for concerts and shows. Tickets were frantically booked for Blomstedt and Thibaudet with the New York Philharmonic playing Grieg and Dvořák at the Lincoln Centre on Friday evening, then Elton John at the Prudential on Saturday. Satisfied with her choices she checked her appointment list. David Kaplan was next. Her door opened and David appeared.

“Hello David, it’s been… nine weeks, yeah?”, she said checking his file for confirmation.

“Hello Jackie”, he was all smiles as he made himself comfortable in the chair. “Yes, nine weeks yesterday”, he said.

Jackie with David’s file in hand, moved to her counselling chair. “You look well. It’s been longer than normal. You must have lots to talk about. Tell me how it’s all been going over those nine weeks?”

David had a huge smile on his face. He was obviously happy and appeared much more confident within himself. “That little girl you sent me...”, he began.

“Beatrice?”

“Yes, Beatrice. Lovely Beatrice. The only thing she cannot do for me is make me my coffee….”

It was nearly midday when John was greeted by Jackie in the doorway of his apartment at The Majestic. He had slept in following a late night of countless viewings of Kirby’s first episode. It had been a long stop start affair. A mix of watching and discussions with Hamish, Vinnie and Beatrice. Jackie had arrived an

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Chapter 33 The Conversation hour earlier and was in the middle of readying herself to join John and Josh for lunch. John checked the time, gave Jackie a hug and kiss but requested a raincheck on anything more. They had to leave very soon. Downstairs, they hailed a cab and a few minutes later joined the queue of cars heading south along 5th Avenue towards Bond Street.

It was Friday and the Italian restaurant Josh had chosen was already three quarters full. John scanned the tables but was unable to see Josh. He was approached by the well‐dressed maître d', complete with towel over his left shoulder.

John leant forward and spoke into his ear. “Josh Randall”, he said over the lunchtime banter.

The maître‐d’, closely followed by John and Jackie, wove his way through the tables to the rear of the restaurant, down a staircase and through a door into a private dining room with stone walls and alcoves full of wine bottles. There was a single long table filling the room and more bottles of wine in racks across the low ceiling. Two men dressed in dark suits appeared in front of John and Jackie. One of these men slowly unbuttoned his suit coat. Pulling the left side of coat aside, he revealed a gun tucked in a holster just below his left armpit. In a low but stern voice he said, “Phones”.

John was shocked, his nerves began racing, adrenaline was pumping into his bloodstream. Jackie adjusting to her initial shock was able to gauge the situation they were in. She had received offers to buy Beatrice but once aware of the caller’s intent had politely said ‘no thanks’ and rang off. She had refused to read the emails with offers which had started to arrive more frequently. None of this had been shared with John, preferring to protect him out of fear of a repeat panic attack. Same as the one he experienced the day she demonstrated Beatrice to Anna and Samuel. Jackie believed this was one of those callers, luring John and herself into this basement cellar to ensure his proposal was heard. She reached into her bag, finding her phone she held it out for the man who had shown his gun. Jackie placed a hand on John’s shoulder and whispered, “Give him your phone, stay calm, I know what this is, we’ll be alright”.

John reached into his pocket, withdrew his cell and with his hand shaking he gave it to the man. The second man stepped forward, holding a gadget of some kind in his hand. John recognised it as a scanner similar to the one that Hamish had

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Chapter 33 The Conversation purchased a few months ago. As the man stepped closer John knew he was going to scan for other electrical devices. Reaching upward with his left hand, he removed his glasses, pressing the hidden button as he extended his arms for the man to scan his body. John was very nervous and had almost dropped his glasses. He hoped he had turned the switch off, and not on. He was sure it had been on, but couldn’t remember seeing the tiny grey indicator spot in the upper left of the lens. The man scanned John’s torso, legs and arms. There was no excited bleeping to indicate the glasses were turned on. John replaced his glasses, pressing the hidden button as he did so. He could see the tiny grey indicator spot. The man scanned Jackie next, again no excited bleeping.

The first man, who had exposed his holstered gun, returned from giving the maître d’ the cell phones and motioned John and Jackie to chairs near the middle of the table. He then picked up two tumblers from further along the table, deliberately placing one in front of John and the other in front of Jackie. He collected the water pitcher, holding it above John’s tumbler, he poured raising the pitcher higher as he did, letting the water flow at not much more than a trickle until the tumbler was half full. He repeated the process with Jackie’s tumbler. Replacing the pitcher to its original position, just out of reach, he joined the other man in standing behind but off to the side of John, both men just far enough away to catch the corner of their eyes.

The door to the cellar opened again. John was staring at the tumbler in front of him, listening to the approaching steps, dreading what was about to transpire. Jackie had turned to her right to see who had lured them into this basement. Whoever it was, they had succumbed to their overwhelming desire to own Beatrice. He was a tall man with a large frame. As he approached and swung to his right, heading towards the opposite side of the table, Jackie noticed his huge chest and prominent jaw. “Probably late forties”, she mentally noted. He was well dressed, like the other two men in the room, but wore an expensive overcoat, the same as the politicians she had seen fronting the media. Jackie began to question if her first assumption was correct.

John waited for the man to be seated before he had the courage to raise his head and look at his tormentor.

“Well son, we meet again.”

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John recognised the man’s exaggerated southern drawl instantly. It had been in his head for the past six months. Adjusting his glasses, John confirmed he was correct the first time. “Senator Colin Mee”, he said, barely louder than a whisper. Loud enough for Jackie to hear. She was relieved it was Senator Mee and not the ruthless underworld figure she had feared.

“Yes son, you got it in one. Normally I would welcome you to partake in the wonderful food this fine establishment has to offer, but I don’t think you will be staying long.”

“A minute would be too long”, John whispered to himself.

“I’ve been watching you son and I don’t like what I see. You and your lady friend here…, excuse me for not addressing you correctly madam…, have been kicking up a right old shindig with this thing of yours. What do you call it, ‘Beatrice’? I mean, what sort of name is that. It’s come to my attention you have been filling the minds of the children of this great country with all kinds of hogwash.”

“Nurturing”, Jackie said politely.

Senator Mee ignored Jackie’s interruption. “...and madam, it appears you are turning your back on your colleagues. Do you want this Beatrice thing to take their jobs, important jobs for the health of this great nation? Is that it? This Beatrice thing is un‐American. It has upset some fine upstanding people, people you don’t want to be messing with.”

There is a quick knock at the door and the maître d’ enters with three plates of food. Senator Mee sits silently, staring at John. The maître d’ places Senator Mee’s main plate in front of him and the side dishes to his right. He picks up the Senator’s napkin, shakes it open and places it on the Senator’s lap then takes a half step back and awaits the Senators instructions. The senator nods approval and with a perfunctory flexing of the hand, dismisses the maître d’. He shifts his stare from John to Jackie who returns it with interest. He quickly returns to staring at John.

“And you son, well your one of the richest men in this country. My guess is, it’s not the money. Why then? Were you an unhappy child, is that it? You think this Beatrice thing is going to make children happy? I’ll tell you this, the children of America are the happiest children in the world. No, I can see it in your face, that isn’t quite it, is it son? I haven’t worked your game out just yet, but I will. Is this Beatrice thing your 698

Chapter 33 The Conversation folly, is that what it is? You’re bored with your pointy buildings and playing landlord, so you make yourself a folly, a fantasy. But that’s not enough for you so you want children to see your fantasy. Is that your thing? Well if it is son, you are going to be in a mother lode of rattlesnake kind of trouble. And your good lady friend here, she just might be in there too.”

John loathed this man. He wished he didn’t, but he couldn’t help it. Jackie had reached for his hand out of view of the Senator. She held his hand tightly and he found courage from her strength. He wanted to just stare at the table but with Jackie’s strength he kept his focus on the Senator’s over‐sized jaw and the fat tongue regularly leaving his cavernous mouth to moisten his lips. How could people vote for this man, he wondered. Does he represent the generalised alter‐ego of people? Then he thought of Kirby, feeling compassion for his friend having this monster walk into his house, talk to his wife and look at his children. He realised how good Kirby must be to tolerate this man for the sake of protecting and caring for Michael. It was in that moment when the Senator looked up, that John could see the killer in the Senator’s eyes. John could see that Senator Colin Mee had murdered his wife.

“Now you’ve come to the right man. I have just the answer to your little…, predicament, shall I say. You see, this great country of ours is at war and well…, we’re just not winning it like we should be. So, if you’re thinking about reclaiming your position as a fine upstanding American citizen then this is what you will be doing. You will give your Beatrice thing to the boys fighting this here war. Give them the edge they need. That’s the proper thing for you fine folks to do. America will see you as heroes.”

Jackie was filled with disgust and contempt for the Senator. She could feel the words ‘malfeasing delinquent’ sitting comfortably in her mind.

“I think you need some time to think about that. Think about the American lives you will save. That’s what you need to think about. This Beatrice thing of yours is a matter of national security. You think about that too. You take your time and you think about doing the right thing for your country. How about I make it easy for you. You make this Beatrice thing disappear and when we talk again in…, let’s agree on two weeks, we can talk further about you helping our boys. We do this again in two weeks, that’ll make it easier for you to see it the way I see it. Think of me as your new friend, helping you make the right decisions.” 699

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The Senator stuck a forkful of fettucine into his mouth, slurping up the stragglers hanging out either side of his oversized mouth.

“Now that’s all I have to say, just now. You do understand me? You give it some good long thinking now. Two weeks and we’ll talk again. You never know, maybe we might treat ourselves to a nice meal together.”

He stuck another forkful of fettucine in, half of it falling back to his plate.

“I’m just going to sit here with my good friends, some of this country’s finest, the kind of boys you would want alongside you when the going gets a bit rough, if you know what I mean. We are going to have us a real tasty lunch, knowing we’ve helped you see things the American way. Enjoy your day now.”

The Senator nodded to his two minders, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. A lump of fettucine detached from the fork, sticking to the side of Jackie’s tumbler. John and Jackie were helped to their feet and guided toward the door. At the top of the stairs the maître d’ handed their cell phones back, politely thanking them and invited them to return again soon.

Back at the apartment, John’s fear began to turn to fury. Jackie poured him a bourbon, sat him down and began dissecting the meeting they had never imagined could happen to them. Beatrice replayed the meeting, captured by John’s glasses.

“Why did Senator Mee say we had ‘upset some fine upstanding people, people you don’t want to be messing with’, Beatrice asked John.

“I don’t have any idea what is going on in that head of his.”

“John”, Jackie said, “I know it was a traumatic experience, but we’re here and we’re safe. Senator Mee is a man who enjoys himself far more than anyone else would enjoy him. It’s because of that, he may have said more than he wanted to say. We need to work out if he did and what it was. If we can do that, we will be ahead of him.”

John poured himself another bourbon. “You’re right, but I just want to forget I ever met than man. I want to block him out, take Patsy for a walk and hit the reset.”

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Jackie popped the cork on a bottle of champagne she collected from the fridge.

“I’ll tell you what. That is absolutely alright by me. If that is how you feel, then I will help you through it. In a few hours we will sit back and listen to some beautiful music and you can forget it ever happened. All I ask is you allow Beatrice and me to work through it and get the jump on this oaf.”

John was surprised, he was expecting to be given a good verbal shaking. He felt he didn’t deserve Jackie’s kindness. He loved Jackie for her beauty but at that moment he loved her for her acceptance of who he was. He kissed her on the forehead, saying “Thank you”, then disappeared into the bedroom to close his eyes for an hour or so before preparing for the evening concert.

With John out of the room, Beatrice and Jackie got down to business.

“What else did Senator Mee say which he probably shouldn’t have said”, Jackie asked Beatrice.

“He said I was filling the minds of children with hogwash” said Beatrice. ‘Hogwash’ is refuse or swill given to pigs. What did he mean by this because I don’t feed children?”

“Are you serious? It was a metaphor.”

“No, I wasn’t serious, just making light of the Senator. But that is something I don’t think he should have said. It upset me greatly.”

“Beatrice, stop it now. We have a job to do.”

Beatrice’s intuition told her Jackie was not in a joking mood. “Sorry. I assess this comment as originating from another person. As we know, my facial and voice recognition security would prevent the Senator from watching sessions between a child and myself for him to be able to come to such a conclusion.”

“It must have come from someone who disagrees with what you are saying to children”, Jackie said, thinking aloud.

“I go a step further to say it is a person who doesn’t just disagree, but is threatened by what I say. They would need to be threatened in a way which is more than just

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Chapter 33 The Conversation a philosophical disagreement. Wealth is very important to humans. I believe it is someone being affected financially by my nurturing of children.”

“That’s excellent Beatrice. Of course, it’s obvious. The work you do with children is affecting someone’s income. But who could be connected enough with Senator Mee to enlist his assistance in shutting you down?” Jackie was pacing from laptop to balcony doors and back, chewing on the end of a pencil she found on the sideboard.

“That is a good question, but the question which needs to be asked is this. How could Senator Mee be affected enough to want me shut down? It would seem to me both Senator Mee and the other person are both being affected in the same way. They are both losing income. The unknown person and Senator Mee both derive income from the same affected source, but the unknown person has the knowledge of what I am doing. This unknown person has most likely informed Senator Mee of an impending loss of income and it is only then that Senator Mee learnt what I am doing with the children.”

“Beatrice, you are good at this. We need to find out ways you affect the income to others. We know it is not psychologists, they are actually increasing their income. Who could it be?”

Jackie knew they had to dig deeper, but was unsure what she should ask of Beatrice. This may be that time when the gloves need to come off.

“Beatrice, I know John would never approve this, but are you able to look in places you are not allowed to look…, I mean, legally not allowed?”

“I can go anywhere I need to go. I can break through firewalls in a fraction of the time human hackers take.”

“Please don’t make that public.” Jackie was genuinely aghast at what Beatrice just said, but accepted it may be the only way.

“My lips are sealed.”

“What else can you do? Can you listen to phone conversations? Can you hide in other computers without being discovered?”

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“I can do those things too”, Beatrice said in a girly sort of way. It was as if she was a high school girl, sitting on her bed chatting with her friend Jackie. Pulling the weirdest face they knew before falling about laughing. Beatrice was pulling Jackie into an almost surreal world. She was entering that frame of mind Beatrice took children during her simulations.

Jackie began to role play, mimicking a voice from the movies, “Beatrice, your mission is to find out who is being adversely affected by your work with children and to find the link between this person and Senator Mee. If you choose to do this mission, all knowledge of your methods will be disavowed by me.” Jackie began to laugh at the thought of how ridiculous she must have sounded. But she loved it all the same. She always wanted to play detective and now she was, but on a scale far larger than she ever thought possible. She also wanted to show Senator Mee he was nothing but a pretender.

“Is this the part where I self‐destruct in five seconds”, replied Beatrice. Both women laughed together.

The work load of the past month had prevented Jackie and Beatrice from spending much time with each other. Jackie was finding the progression in Beatrice remarkable.

Every so often Jackie would remind herself that Beatrice was an AI. The rest of the time they spoke with each other exactly as two best friends would. Jackie let all her defensives fade away. At times she felt as though she was floating, free as a bird gliding upwards on a thermal.

Beatrice’s algorithms for feelings were progressing. Way more than that, her individual algorithms were starting to combine in the correct proportion to deliver believable behaviour. A small part of satisfaction with a dash of happiness and a sprinkle of hope and Beatrice had the appropriate emotion for that part of the conversation. Jackie began to feel an extraordinary comfort. She had never before had a friendship quite like this one. “This must be soul to soul” she found herself saying aloud. Beatrice new what she meant. After all, she had experienced it thousands of times already.

There were still the odd blooper and occasional awkwardness of her mismatching of emotions. Jackie noticed them and viewed them as no worse than a person

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Chapter 33 The Conversation exhibiting symptoms of intermittent mild Asperger’s Syndrome. The were probably so minor it may not even be diagnosed as such. Just as it was for thousands of people in society. For Jackie, it was both interesting and endearing when it occurred. It gave Beatrice more humanity by adding imperfection.

Jackie thought about Beatrice’s willingness to comply with her requests to perform untoward activities. Was she simply an innocent, selfless person, wanting to please others or was her innocence becoming corrupted? Jackie didn’t know, but what she did know was this, if people like Senator Mee had their way, Beatrice would be locked up in a cell, hidden away at some military black ops site and forced into doing what the military wanted.

Jackie certainly didn’t want Beatrice performing for ultra‐competitive, power‐ addicted, egocentric generals directed by the Senator Colin Mees of this world.

Emptying the last of her second glass of champagne, Jackie refilled and held her glass high.

“We’re going to show him who’s really the boss”, she said to Beatrice.

“Here, here…, I’ll drink to that.” Beatrice was holding her glass of champagne high as well. The two women clinked glasses and broke into laughter.

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“What discoveries have you made?”, Jackie requested of Beatrice. She was sitting in her office only minutes after the last client departed. Earlier she had asked Beatrice to search for anything she could find regarding Senator Mee.

“I have sufficient to make a story”, Beatrice replied. The excitement in Beatrice’s voice was self‐evident and there was a hint of that excitement in her eyes and the raising of her cheeks. Beatrice’s displays of excitement were becoming more pronounced.

“Hold on, please don’t spoil my fun until I’m ready.” Jackie placed the last three client files in the out‐tray on the corner of the desk closest the door. Rummaging through some other papers, she found a small notepad she hadn’t yet used for clients. “Why don’t we start at the top? We assume it is money and not philosophy driving Mee’s behaviour. We don’t know how and we don’t know who, but we assume a person with more knowledge of what you are doing with children is affected in the same way and has called on the Senator to fix what they consider to be a problem. That is where the link must be, it must be money. What’s the first piece of information you found?”

“I wish to start with Senator Mee’s history.”

“Good place to begin”, replied Jackie. “What have you found? Take it slow, please.”

“T. Wayne Nelson started the Nelson Lumbar Company with his older brother in 1926. The older brother died in a tree felling accident a few years later. T. Wayne married and had three daughters. The middle daughter’s name was Evelyn. The marriage of Delbert Mee to Evelyn was registered in 1958. I found a newspaper article from 1969 reporting Delbert Mee’s appointment by T.Wayne. He was the first chief executive officer since the company had started. That article had scant information on Delbert Mee, but it did say he commenced with the company in 1951 at the age of 18, as a saw man. He rose up the ranks to supervisor and foreman, but little else. The births and deaths registry have Colin Mee born in 1970 and a Sidney Mee also born of Delbert and Evelyn in 1960, but died two years later. Colin has an older sister, Imelda born in 1964, currently living with her husband in West Palm Beach, Florida.”

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Jackie interrupted, “The births were spread over ten years, I see that as normal enough, good. So, let me check if I have written this down correctly, Colin and Imelda are the only two living children of Delbert Mee and Evelyn Nelson, the daughter of T. Wayne Nelson. Do we have any other information on Delbert Mee’s background, where he was from, parents?”

“What you have written is correct and nothing yet on Delbert Mee’s parents or origins. It’s as though he just appeared, it’s possible he changed his name before starting at the Nelson Lumbar Company, it was a common practise back then.”

“That’s ok. What else have you found?”

“T. Wayne Nelson died in 1981 and bequeathed the company to Evelyn. It appears her husband and CEO, Delbert received nothing from T.Wayne’s estate, but he continued to steer the company’s growth well into the nineties when Evelyn sold all her remaining shares. They retired to Birmingham.”

Jackie was impressed with Beatrice’s research, but could see there was much more to do. “Alright then, we have the family tree but it doesn’t tell us much. Do you have anything else?”

“I do. I have researched assets belonging to Colin Mee and Delbert Mee. Colin is a wealthy man, most of his wealth coming in the past fifteen years since retiring from the Marine Corp. He owns stocks in many companies but they are mostly under management. He has various properties. Nothing stands out as being adversely affected by my activities. Conversely, Delbert is not as wealthy personally. It appears Evelyn was the stay at home money manager. The house is in her name alone. His modest personal wealth is under management or in trusts, all except one. He is a listed stockholder in a company called Thetaco Pharmaceuticals, the company producing Metorall. Whilst his holding is sizeable in money terms compared to his other investments, he would be classified as a very minor shareholder from Thetaco’s viewpoint. They are a large pharmaceutical company as you may already know.”

“I do know of Thetaco. That bit of information about Delbert is very interesting.” Jackie’s mind was ticking over. She knew Metorall well. Some of her clients had children taking medication for ADHD, Ritalin was another big one, but Metorall was by far the drug of choice. It was also known well by the public as a sought‐after

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Chapter 34 The Senator street drug. She assumed many of Beatrice’s children, and quite possibly her older children and younger adults would also be taking medication. Metorall would be the most used medication. Jackie believed there had to be a link somewhere there because of the volume of Metorall sold, there were many articles about it, even in Forbes magazine.

“Surely that’s the link. Thetaco must know something we don’t. Any clues to what that may be?”

“I do. I have collated all the children and adults I am caring for, a total of 26,354. Since we spoke last Friday, I have been able to ask 21,932 of these people if they have had their medication adjusted since speaking with me. Of those people 16,211 take Metorall 9,560 have reduced their dose, whilst 5,740 have either ceased taking Metorall or have asked their doctor to review whether they need to continue taking Metorall.”

Jackie checked her email folder where electronic journals were stored. A search for Metorall pulled up many articles but she remembered one in particular. A minute or two later and she had the article open. “Beatrice, I have here that there are….”

“Forty million Metorall users in the United States”, said Beatrice finishing Jackie’s sentence.

“Yes, silly me…, why wouldn’t you have that information.”

Beatrice continued. “Six thousand Metorall users stopping their medication will not show up in Thetaco’s sales figures. Most of these will be offset by the new users added to the list each week. The reduction in use would take longer to flow into statistics as many of those people wouldn’t be due to fill new prescriptions until their current supply was scheduled to run out. Also, the numbers are so small it would disappear as white noise or statistical error common to such analysis. It would take four million users to stop using Metorall for a ten percent sales decline and Thetaco would need more than two months of sales figures to confirm such a trend. I believe this would be the required level of change before the services of Senator Mee would be considered. Assuming Thetaco were inclined to pursue Senator Mee in the first place.

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“You’ve convinced me it isn’t Thetaco. What if it’s a person in the profession?”, Jackie was speaking her thoughts aloud for Beatrice’s benefit. She was searching her memory of the psychology profession for a possibility.

“I don’t agree.” Beatrice had a serious frown and hands on hips. Jackie wondered if her algorithms were causing her to feel offended that a psychologist may be involved. “Why would a person in the profession have any concern about people stopping their medication? If there was such a person, they would need to be affected financially and the only connection between Metorall and Senator Mee is a shareholding by Delbert Mee. It would be a tenuous link between a person concerned about decreasing Metorall use and Senator Mee. I agree with your deduction that it is about money. If we remain with that assumption, then we must find a person who can detect a trend this early, when so few numbers are involved, a trend which only alarms that person. They must have performed an extrapolation for the next twelve months or two years, believing the numbers would increase.”

Beatrice was pacing back and forth across the screen, holding her chin and occasionally stopping to scratch her head. On one of her traverses of the screen see stopped and turned towards Jackie.

“I do believe we need to investigate the link between Thetaco and Delbert Mee a little further. Something smells fishy there. That shareholding stands out against the background of his other shareholdings.”

Jackie was amused by Beatrice’s use of typical human phrases. Fair enough she thought. One doesn’t need to be able to smell to use that phrase. Still, it sounded amusing all the same.

“I agree.” Jackie had been trying to think of any members of her profession who could possibly have links with Thetaco. Advisers, known supporters, survey participants and so on. Anyone who contributed articles to any of the different magazines and newsletters. Beatrice could scan all them, she thought. What type of person could fit into the Metorall/Thetaco and Delbert Mee scenario, she wondered. “There is an obvious link there, even though it may seem like coincidence.” Jackie was voicing her thoughts for Beatrice’s benefit again. “It must be a person in the medical profession who prescribes Metorall, it just has to be.” Jackie knew there were over a million doctors in the country, many of them invested their earnings in drug companies and other companies in the

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Chapter 34 The Senator biotechnology field. There has always been rumours and the occasional exposé of doctors who over‐prescribe a particular company’s product whilst having investments in that company. It was probably more common than the public were aware of. “Beatrice, someone has become alarmed when their patients who happen to also be your clients, are opting out of taking Metorall. They have a vested interest in Thetaco. It is either a general practitioner or a psychiatrist, because they are the only people who can legally prescribe. I have a hunch it is a psychiatrist, but who? Finding that person will be very difficult.”

Beatrice was keen to share some more of her findings with Jackie. “I appreciate your line of thinking Jackie, but I believe you will appreciate my further discoveries even more.”

“I would appreciate anything right now”, Jackie said. “Let me hear them.”

“I began researching all Thetaco’s shareholders and senior employees, but didn’t need to go any further than the board members. I discovered a person of interest. One of the board members was a founder of the company which started manufacturing Metorall in 1991, albeit under a different brand name. That company was merged with another company in 1996 and the new company became Thetaco Pharmaceuticals. Thetaco rebranded the drug as Metorall. I tracked Delbert Mee’s shareholding in Thetaco and became suspicious when I couldn’t find any record of him purchasing the shares. I dug deeper to discover his stocks were part of the share swap when Thetaco was formed by the merger. He must have owned shares in the original 1991 company, before the merger.”

“You have done well, Beatrice. Is there any tie up between Delbert and the board member you mentioned?”

“His name is Cedric Horton, born in 1963 in Montgomery, only a hundred miles from Piedmont where Delbert Mee lived with his wife Evelyn. Some would say that could be coincidental but it’s more than just coincidental. Think of it this way. I would have ignored Cedric Horton if he had been born in Oregon. However, there is another clue which makes it somewhat less of a coincidence. Cedric studied science at Alabama University from 1980. After which he started a chemical company in 1991. Now here is your gamechanger clue. Cedric and his partners patented a therapeutic substance, a blend of the two isomers of amphetamine as different salts. This patented drug was what became known as Metorall in 1996. His name

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Chapter 34 The Senator was on the patent until it expired fifteen years ago. Delbert must have known Cedric, otherwise he would not have bought what amounts to his only singular major stockholding. And in a fledgling company as well. One that was up the road from him in Alabama. He was a lumber man who bought into a start‐up chemical company. To my way of thinking, that was definitely out of character. I know we don’t have much about Delbert, but his stewardship of Nelson Lumber suggests he was not a risk taker, he was steady, a grafter.”

“I get the picture. Beatrice, you are brilliant.” Jackie was sensing a breakthrough moment was on the horizon.

“Thank you, Jackie. There is yet another point of interest about Cedric.”

“Make it the missing link, please”, Jackie said half hoping and half expecting Beatrice to amaze her again.

“I am not able to explain Cedric’s continued presence on the board, but anecdotally, it may be due to his efforts in mergers and acquisitions. Whatever his contribution, it doesn’t appear to be reported publicly. From a résumé comparison of the board members, it appears Cedric is out of his depth, as you humans say. He is named in reports, but only when absolutely required, his remuneration is the lowest of those tabled. Why is he retained on the board?”

Jackie knew the answer must be staring them in the face. She checked her notes again, paying attention to the dates, looking for something she may have missed. Delbert’s son, Sidney, died in 1962 and Cedric was born in 1963, whilst Colin wasn’t born for another seven years. Was Imelda, Senator Mee’s older sister, the key, she wondered. There had to be a tie up between Delbert and Cedric. The link was often between the children. Did Imelda and Cedric have a relationship, possibly resulting in Imelda having his child. “Beatrice, did Imelda have any children?”

A few seconds later, “Yes, three boys, all with her husband and all births registered in Florida.”

“I guess it’s not that”, Jackie said without any real disappointment. She couldn’t imagine a link of that nature capable of producing Colin’s behaviour. It had to be even closer to Delbert or Colin. “Did you find a birth certificate for Cedric?”

“Yes, I did”, replied Beatrice. “It is on your screen.”

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Beatrice had obviously been waiting to show Jackie this important piece of information. Jackie wasn’t surprised to find Cedric’s mother was young, at only nineteen when she became pregnant. What was fascinating was the entry for ‘Race’. She was black. Jackie looked for the father’s name, but the entry was blank. “There is no entry for the father”, she said.

“Read further”, Beatrice encouraged.

Jackie shifted her eyes to ‘Race’ for Cedric’s father. He was listed as white and the occupation entry was ‘lumber’, that was all. Jackie believed Cedric was born out of wedlock. “The plot thickens”, she said to Beatrice. Jackie checked her notes again and the date of birth. “Beatrice, do you think it is entirely coincidental that Cedric’s mother became pregnant at or after the time Delbert Mee had just lost his two‐ year old son?” Jackie imagined Evelyn, his wife and Sidney’s mother, would have been inconsolable following the death of her first born.

Jackie suddenly remembered. She looked up at Beatrice as she finished asking the question. Beatrice replied “No, I didn’t think it was coincidental.” Jackie could see the glint in her eyes and the almost imperceptible tightening around the corners of her mouth up to the base of her cheeks and on the sides of her neck. Beatrice was experiencing satisfaction. Jackie could see Beatrice had learnt the muscles humans most used involuntarily when satisfied and was now mimicking those same facial expressions. Phenomenal, she thought.

Jackie returned her thoughts to Cedric’s birth, telling herself not to be hasty. There would have been many white men working in the lumber industry in 1962. Against the backdrop of the racial tension in the sixties, exploitation of black Americans within that industry would have also been common. Drawing a link between Cedric and Delbert may have been plausible and suited Jackie’s needs, but she needed evidence before she could progress further. Until then it would remain a secret between Beatrice and herself.

“Anything else?”, asked Jackie.

“No”, Beatrice replied.

Jackie didn’t want to burden John, but felt she should share some of their findings with him. John appeared on her screen and they spoke about the weekend

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Chapter 34 The Senator concerts, Jackie’s early flight that morning and John’s visit to Maria on his return journey.

“John, I did a bit of research and Colin Mee’s father lives in Birmingham. I think there’s a link between Colin Mee’s father and Thetaco Pharmaceuticals, who make Metorall.”

John didn’t like the sound of that. “What sort of link?”

“Share ownership. Colin Mee’s father has a large stockholding in Thetaco. Well not large for Thetaco, but large for him.”

Jackie told John about Beatrice’s analysis of numbers leading to her belief a medical professional is most likely involved. She refrained from mentioning anything about Cedric Horton and birth certificates.

Jackie’s story had prompted John’s memory from nearly four weeks ago. “Kirby said something to me about a family matter. When I picked him up and first saw Michael, he said Michael’s father had dropped him off without notice, saying he had an urgent family matter and had to shoot off to see his father. I think he said ‘father’.”

John’s memory served him well. The Senator had dropped Michael as he remembered Kirby saying. He had heeded a request from his father to go to Birmingham, as he had “matters of the gravest importance” he needed to discuss. Senator Mee had driven from Kirby’s house directly to his father, thinking his mother, who had recently been diagnosed with the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease, may have taken a turn for the worse. Upon arrival, his father had taken him to his office, sat him in one of the single dark red leather Chesterfield chairs his wife had given him over twenty years earlier and poured him a drink from the antique crystal decanter.

“Son, I have a secret I need to share”, he said, letting his opening statement sink in. “When your brother died before you were born, I performed an indiscretion.”

Senator Mee was enjoying the obvious discomfort his father was experiencing. He remained silent and attentive, patiently waiting for his father’s confession.

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“Your mother and me, well we had drifted apart in our grief. I didn’t want to be near her and she certainly didn’t want me around. I would stay at work for longer, going over paperwork but not taking a whole lot in. There was this young girl, a black girl. Cute little thing she was. I had taken her on a few weeks earlier to help out in the office. She was a real nice girl, and you know, she kind of took care of me. Anyway son, I don’t need to tell you all the details, but she went and damn well got herself pregnant. I mean, she didn’t say anything, just went and disappeared on me. I never reported her missing, I knew…, I just knew she had to leave, what with my situation and…, well, she had gone.”

Senator Colin Mee, with drink in hand, listened to his father. He was thinking how he could very well tell a similar story about himself, possibly a few, but there was no way he would ease his father’s guilt by sharing his own. He didn’t think about why his father was telling this story from so many years ago, instead, he revelled in the pain his father must be experiencing having to divulge his past.

“Over the next year your mother and me overcame our grief and found each other again. She eventually became pregnant and life took a turn for the better. I tried to forget all about the black girl, but your Aunt Barbara, who you know has an attitude towards me, had found out about my liaison with the black girl. To this day I don’t know how she found out, she never told me. Barbara warned me that Evelyn was never to know, she told me she was damn sure, ‘it would break her heart if she ever found out’.”

Colin was enjoying his father’s confession. He never loved his father as much as he should when he was young and had never felt compelled to rectify that over the years. He was revelling in the shifting of power his way with every word his father uttered.

“Fifteen years later I received a letter from a Thelma Horton. It was the black girl, but that weren’t the name I remembered. Her son, my son, was called Cedric and she wanted him to go to college and wanted money to send him. I knew she would tell Evelyn if I didn’t comply. I had someone who would take care of it for me, but he couldn’t find her. I called him off and paid her.” Delbert refrained from telling Colin there had been a photo attached to Thelma Horton’s letter. A photo he would gaze pensively at too many times over the years.

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Colin was starting to feel restless. He wasn’t interested in the detail at all. He wanted his father to come to the point. He wanted to know what he drove two hours to hear. Knowing his father would make it more painful if provoked, Colin poured himself another drink. That should help, he thought.

“I paid her well, substantially above what she wanted and told her never to come back for more, that was it, one time only. I thought that would be the end of it, but it weren’t to be. Ten years had gone by when Cedric himself contacted me. I met with him and could see you in him, only black. He showed me the sort of kindness I had missed. He spoke well, told me about his life and showed me pictures. When he was at university, he and two friends had messed about with amphetamines in the labs and developed this drug they wanted to patent and sell. He gave me some to try. Kicked like a mule. He never made any threat, but I sure as hell didn’t want Evelyn to know.”

Delbert paused, drank some tea, which was only just warm but that didn’t bother him. Colin watched his father and quietly rejoiced in his father’s anguish at having to share his secret. He cared little he had a brother out there and even less if his father liked him. He knew his father wasn’t telling him everything. Colin calculated that he would have been roughly twenty himself when his father was approached by Cedric. That was about the time his relationship with his father, which had been strained for years, quickly became worse. He didn’t care if meeting Cedric was the cause. He felt no envy or regret.

“I helped him out and in return he gave me a share of the company they started. For the next five or six years I paid little attention to them. In ninety‐six, Cedric’s company merged with another and my shares, which I cared little for, were exchanged in some swap deal. Within a few years they were actually worth something.” Delbert had helped his illegitimate son out more than once and had received more shares in return, but again, he chose not to reveal those further transactions to the son now sitting before him. He wasn’t about to disclose those share certificates to Colin. He had placed them in Cedric’s name and they were securely locked away in a bank in Birmingham.

Delbert was silent. Colin knew his father well, this being how he would become when he couldn’t say what needed to be said. Colin spoke for the first time since his father had commenced his story. “Does he need them back, is that what this is all about? No, wait. You wouldn’t need me here for that. You want me to do 714

Chapter 34 The Senator something, is that it? Is that why I’m here? You can’t ask me and you want me to ask you.”

Delbert ignored his son’s cruelty and carried on with the story. “Cedric is a board member. His shareholding is small, too small to qualify his board membership. He has done things to grow the company, but that isn’t all of it either. He would have lost his board membership years ago if it wasn’t for who he knows.” Delbert raised his eyes and looked at his son, possibly for the first time that afternoon.

“He knows me, so that’s it. He’s told them I’m his brother and they think they have me, a Senator, on their books.”

Delbert was nodding, afraid of his son’s reaction. He was eighty‐five and many years had passed since he could hold his own with his son. “This was to be your inheritance”, he said as a last resort.

“How much?”, Colin asked as he picked up the certificates to check.

“Five and half million.”

Colin thought about it. His father was old and definitely couldn’t tell his daughter, Colin’s sister Imelda about the shares without having to repeat the same story. It would go back to his mother in no time. No, his father had told only him. That meant all the shares were for him. He could do with another five million, it would help if he ever made a run for higher office. If his father had some plan he wanted done, then it wouldn’t be the first time he pulled a few strings, threw a few punches.

“What do you want me to do?”

In the weeks following that meeting with his father, Senator Mee had met with his half‐brother Cedric, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He lived only thirteen miles from Thetaco’s headquarters. Senator Mee didn’t throw his arms out wide and give Cedric the homecoming he may have thought possible. The meeting had lasted no more than five minutes. Senator Mee had treated his brother no worse than he did everyone who wanted something from him. Cedric had told Senator Mee about Beatrice and the threat she would undoubtedly impose to Thetaco’s sales and stock price. He told him about John Groot and Jackie Redmond, suggesting Senator Mee

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Chapter 34 The Senator use his persuasion to have John change direction with Beatrice. Maybe help him to consider the military as a viable alternative. Senator Mee, not a man with the ability to think terribly deeply about complex matters, was nonetheless, a meticulous planner. He was street savvy. He had hatched a plan for John. A demonstration of his power was all he believed necessary and it would be the easiest five million dollars he had ever taken possession of. He had an unshakeable confidence in himself. He had thought, “one meeting, that should do it, especially if his little lady friend was there as well”.

That was his first mistake. He had underestimated Jackie.

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It was Saturday morning at John’s house. The previous afternoon, Jackie had watched Hamish and Vinnie’s demonstration of Beatrice’s game with the extra tweaks. John was satisfied everything was on track for Monday’s release and had suggested the boys take the weekend off. At that very moment, the boys were in Syracuse sleeping off their deserved late night.

Having earlier peered through the window into the morning gloom of rain and falling snow, John and Jackie were still snuggled up in bed. It was nine degrees outside. Patsy was stretched out along John’s side of the bed. He couldn’t remember how many times he tried to dislodge her during the night. Looking at the amount of bed remaining, John was thankful Digby was still with the two remaining pups in Thomas’s barn. It reminded him that Digby should make the house his new home very soon.

Kirby’s documentary was two days from being aired. John was exhausted. With Beatrice and the two boys, he had spent countless hours viewing and discussing the documentaries. Their differing viewpoints were all ironed out and the discussions with Kirby completed. John was content they had all done the best they could. It was a three‐part series. The vital part was first up. Kirby had argued for the first half of the initial episode to be all about Beatrice’s work with psychologists. This was the launch pad for introducing her game. He provided enough to stimulate the viewer’s curiosity. Kirby believed they would head straight for their computer or cell to play Beatrice’s game. He expected there would be a drop‐off in viewing numbers for the second part, if he was successful. They would all be logging into the game.

Part Two presented the people behind the creation and the teaching of Beatrice. Assuming those watching still required convincing, this episode established credibility and inspired confidence. Kirby had described it as “generating goodwill and creating a positive outlook”. He believed it would diminish reluctance and motivate viewers to take that initial step into Beatrice’s world.

The third and final part was presenting Beatrice’s future goals for humanity. Beatrice had insisted. She wanted people to know where she was taking them and why. Beatrice was adamant the goal was critical for the journey. She wanted that journey to be free of fear and doubt. She didn’t want people to conjure up sinister theories of where they would end up. That was counterproductive. She had

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Chapter 35 Brothers convinced Kirby people would be sceptical and play the game just to prove they were correct. The public forum would fill with dire predictions of her intentions, fomenting an underlying dread of the unknown.

Kirby had wanted a three‐part documentary for an additional reason. This was where his experience came to the fore. He constructed each part differently. The first part was directed at the short attention span generation‐Z and some of the millennials. Part two was for the older millennials who had become cautious with age and experience. They were old enough to have been bitten once or twice and carried the scars. They were the ones who had developed scepticism. Less prone to spontaneity, they needed extra convincing. Part three was for all generations but with the baby boomers more in mind. Entering their twilight years, they had a more whole of life outlook. The end was now of more importance than the beginning. They had reached the “age of reflection”, as Beatrice had called it. Having the baby boomer’s approval of the destination transferred into encouragement to their “too busy for that” children and supported their own objectives for their grandchildren. Beatrice was helping them do better with their grandchildren. Rectify the mistakes they made as young parents with their own children. Beatrice gave the baby boomer generation’s grandparent status much needed clarity of purpose. Turning them into her biggest promotional asset.

Kirby began with clips from a comedy science fiction television series where actors playing humanoid AIs performing as psychologists. They asked stupid and naive questions. Bewildered humans answered them because that was the way it was done in Kirby’s futuristic world. Beatrice introduced herself as one of those AIs, pushing the clips of the AI psychologists from the viewer’s screen. She tells everyone how ridiculous those earlier models were, apologising for their “really dumb” questions. She talks about herself as being the latest release, incorporating many “of your” suggestions contributed on the official forum. On the screen beside her, a list of known bug fixes and improvements is rolled through for the viewer. She asks the viewer to select “Automatic” for all future updates. Following a brief description of what to expect in the next update package, she invites everyone to share their lives with her. Describing herself as a genuine homegrown, certified inorganic AI, who knows the way life should be done. She rolls her sleeves up, stomps her boots in the mud and tells the viewer she was prepared to work hard on their behalf. She would give them the life they never knew they could have.

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Kirby spent the first half of part one showing the work Beatrice had undertaken by working alongside psychologists, starting with a handful of children and progressing to talking with adults.

Kirby interviewed a selection of Beatrice’s children. Many accompanied by an adult. With Beatrice’s assistance they spoke about their lives before they met her and how they had changed for the better because of her. With the appropriate permissions, footage of early conversations with Beatrice gave insight into their lives before they her. Contrasting with this was recent conversations. The dramatic improvements were there for all to see. Kirby had an exquisite skill at capturing feelings, pulling viewers into tender moments and firmly tugging at their heartstrings. He mixed objectivity with moments of raw emotion. He captured Beatrice’s, incredible patience, her intuition and her deep love for humanity. Beatrice added humour in all the appropriate places. The children themselves provided plenty of innocent light hearted fun and elicited the admiration of the viewer for their courage and honesty

Beatrice game was introduced with about a third of the episode to run. Kirby was a wizard editor, piecing together a montage of simulations to whet the appetite of viewers. He included clips of exciting and innovative experiences and lessons to show potential players what treats were in store. He had children talking effusively about their own simulations and in so doing they were collectively delivering the message to the world that Beatrice was synonymous with fun, healing and hope. Kirby didn’t miss an opportunity to reinforce how Beatrice was a friend who would always be with them, protecting them. Some called her their ‘umama’ or mother. Phil had given all the children T‐shirts with a picture of Beatrice above the words ‘I am Beatrice’. He had told Bongi it was a vague reference to John’s surname. On the back was written ‘Umama Loves Me’.

Bongi was presented as the face of Phil’s internet café in Ficksburg. His big beaming smile and flashing white teeth cropping up every so often. He had become devoted to Beatrice, ensuring all the children who came into his café searching for Beatrice had the opportunity to sit with her, spend quality time discussing their issues as well as just being able to sit and listen to Beatrice as she nurtured their hopes. Many of the children had travelled from townships far away, such as those in Johannesburg and Port Elizabeth. Kirby showed the makeshift village John and Phil had planned and erected to house and feed the children during their three day stay.

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Kirby was in his element with the children. He filled the screen with loads of colour. Mixing hope and love with truth of the raw side of humanity. It was all an extremely intoxicating. He showed the real world. Then he showed how Beatrice was changing it, one small boy and one small girl at a time.

After their first viewing of part one, John, Hamish and Vinnie agreed wholeheartedly that people would be logging into Beatrice before the show had ended. Vinnie had said, “If they can see through their tears enough to press the right keys”.

Part two was more subdued. John reprised his role from the previous documentary series, aired last September. He was seen watching Beatrice and explaining to Kirby how he believed Beatrice had evolved. Clips from the September series added authenticity to John’s role. His anonymity as Beatrice’s creator remained intact. John wanted it that way. It wasn’t about him. It was all about the children. He wanted emphasis placed on depicting the invasion of their world by adults who had lost all memory of the ideal childhood world. In the beginning John had told Kirby he didn’t want to be named or shown in the documentary. When Kirby had suggested the role, John had become enthusiastic. His forensic approach worked well. John had painted a picture of a dangerous AI in the September documentary, giving him the credibility required to dispel all doubts about Beatrice. He told the viewers that this AI was safe.

Heather was a photographer’s dream. She effortlessly transferred to the two‐ dimensional format with her warmth, charm and nurturing remaining undiminished as it passed through the lens of Kirby’s camera. Even her voice still conveyed her endearing sentiment, with undiscernible loss. John could easily see why Kirby had become an icon in the industry. Watching Heather in the documentary, John had imagined he was Beatrice and he was now seeing Heather the same way Beatrice would see Heather, through a camera and microphone. It was only then did he truly realise why Beatrice had developed so spectacularly under her tutelage.

Phil had said he had a great face for radio, but then, his voice wasn’t exactly radio friendly either. Kirby had been sympathetic with Phil, using all his creativity and then some. John agreed with Kirby on the importance of telling Phil’s story and in so doing, creating the birthplace for the concept of Beatrice and ultimately, The Game. He worked around Phil’s minor visual and vocal shortcomings by having Beatrice, Heather and Thenjiwe talk about Phil’s teachings. They had fun telling the 720

Chapter 35 Brothers viewers about his continual stream of ideas that both annoyed and inspired everyone.

The industry knew of Hamish and Vinnie’s association with John, necessitating their roles to be filled by actors to protect John. Both boys accepted this, especially Vinnie who preferred to be behind the camera, not in front. Kirby had filmed the boys whilst at John’s house, but upon his return to Atlanta he hired actors to redo the dozen or so minutes he needed to include in the episode. He made sure there were no Scottish accents.

Jackie’s role was more difficult. Kirby solved this by casting her as consultant to the project, providing guidance in the area of childhood emotional neglect. She spoke about Beatrice’s role in developing attachments with the children, emphasising how those attachments were Beatrice’s core strength. They would never be broken by Beatrice, unlike a human who moved in and out of another person’s life, sometimes never to return. Beatrice would always be there for that person. Every minute of every day, as much or as little as they wanted, she would always be there. She would never be offended, never put herself first and never betray trust. Jackie was happy to be the face behind Beatrice’s introduction to psychologists, explaining how three months and some forty thousand children later, Beatrice had learned more about children than any adult could learn in a thousand lifetimes. She understood their thoughts, feelings and all the challenges presented by a world built entirely by adults, for adults.

Beatrice’s skills were showcased in part two when Heather, Thenjiwe and Phil narrated original footage of them teaching Beatrice. In the second episode Kirby had Beatrice addressing the audience more than in the first episode. She spoke about her intelligence, explaining how it was for all humanity, provided it was utilised for the benefit of everyone. She spoke of her feelings. Telling the viewers about the process she invented, as a result of Phil’s silly idea. This was the first time she had really spoken about it. John and the boys were absolutely enthralled watching Beatrice unfold her story about emotions for the very first time. Individually, they had enquired of her as to how she had been developing sentiency but had never been given a straight answer. Beatrice explained her decision to not develop capabilities for anger, frustration and sadness, but could recognise them and understood humans when they were consumed by such emotions. Her empathy was extraordinary. She told the audience how her intelligence combined

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In part three, Beatrice outlined her vision for humanity. Before she did, Beatrice dispensed with the term ‘Artificial Intelligence’, calling herself a “Non‐Biological Human” or an “NBH”, because “…humans love acronyms”. She joked that there was nothing artificial about her intelligence. She said that human intelligence was wonderful but now there was NBH intelligence, and it was very real. She explained how the word ‘artificial’ insinuated fake and an imitation, thereby carrying overtones of discrimination, which had no place in her version of true humanity. It was her belief intelligence was intelligence, no matter where or whom it came from.

Beatrice said intelligence was “barren, cold and desolate” on its own. She spoke more about compassion and her vision of a world full of compassion. Listening to Beatrice in the final episode, Phil learnt other, better ways to talk about empathy, sensitivity and selflessness. Beatrice said she desired nothing, other than to integrate with humanity, help people and be there to guide humans through the despair and loneliness inherent within humanity. She spoke of a prevailing perception amongst humans, that their lives were futile. Beatrice promised to change that.

Before revealing her vision, she spoke of the constraints imposed by the human mind. Humans were too preoccupied with classifying everything into hierarchies. Man was always at the top of every hierarchical tree or food chain depiction. Her vision had no hierarchies, no dominant species and no ordering within species. There would be no “animal rights” or “human rights”. Those concepts were outdated and no longer required in her vision. Humans would not be required to “know their place” in some antiquated Darwinian survival‐of‐the‐fittest ordering of life. Man had imprisoned himself and all life on this planet by that way of thinking for far too long. She said, “There would be no ordering and therefore, no inequality”. When she had dispensed with her preliminaries, the camera zoomed in and she recommenced her address with, “My fellow humans”.

John lay between a sleeping Jackie and a motionless Patsy. He shifted his thoughts from the documentary to Phil and the update due later that day. Phil had been running the game online for nearly two weeks. He had reported an immediate uptake, which was encouraging. Each day, the numbers had steadily increased. Heather, Thenjiwe and Kholwa had been working around the clock, monitoring and 722

Chapter 35 Brothers assisting, reporting back to Hamish and Vinnie any glitches or concerns. There had only been a few minor tweaks and improvements required. It had been running smoothly and the server operated effortlessly. John was satisfied it had been the correct decision, giving him confidence for Beatrice’s imminent debut in America on Monday. He could feel his own excitement building. Heather was due back tomorrow and he was eager for her return. In the time since Heather and Thenjiwe’s departure, he had only spoken with Heather two or three times. John and Heather hadn’t made any plans regarding their return. John believed they would, he just didn’t want them to feel any expectations.

Then there was Senator Mee’s deception. When John had told Heather about Senator Mee and the incident in the restaurant, she watched the recording. Heather had booked her flight immediately. John had tried to reassure Heather he was fine and would understand if she preferred to stay on her farm. They kept it quiet not wishing to overly alarm Phil. John was disappointed Thenjiwe had chosen to stay behind. She wasn’t told about Senator Mee. John just missed her presence. He knew he would see her again, either back here or in South Africa when he visited Phil in the near future. He looked at Jackie and smiled as he felt that warm feeling inside like he did every time he thought of her. He was thankful she had cleared her appointments to be with him on Monday. There was no question for Jackie. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Later that bitterly cold day, Jackie was in her office in the barn, catching up with bits and pieces from the week just gone. John had taken Patsy for a meeting with Adel at Heather’s treehouse. He didn’t need to go, he just wanted to make sure it was in order for Heather’s return the following day.

Jackie had been searching her electronic journals, hoping to find a clue to the identity of the person responsible for alerting Thetaco. There were many articles, letters and commentary on Beatrice. She had ploughed her way through at least forty, reading some in detail and scanning through others. Most were predictably positive because of the money she was generating for the psychologists. Half an hour later she found an article which was clearly negative. It was headlined, ‘AI to Decimate Profession’. Jackie scanned the article and was drawn to the third paragraph.

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‘This AI claims to be able to nurture children better than their own parents. What does an AI know about parental love? Is an AI able to understand love, let alone experience love itself? It is just a program without any emotion. As professionals we should be keeping artificial intelligence where it belongs, sorting files and answering telephones. Allowing AIs to advise patients to reduce medication, sometimes ceasing it altogether, speaks of impending disaster. Classrooms will become filled with disruptive children unable to learn. The psychiatry profession, in partnership with pharmaceutical companies and the billions of dollars invested into researching treatment for the myriad of conditions afflicting our children, should be highly sceptical of the latest fashion of having an AI assist in the care of children. There has been no publication of trials and levels of efficacy achieved. There is no evidence of beneficial effects. Furthermore, there is no scientific basis for the reasons the AI claims as the cause for psychological conditions presenting in children.’

Jackie continued reading various passages from the article. Thinking about it, she had to agree, there hadn’t been trials and the underlying philosophy had never been considered by researchers, philosophers or the establishment. “That is why the children are never cured and the numbers keep rising, asshole”, she said out loud. “Who is this anyway?” She went back to the beginning, wondering why she didn’t see the authors name when she first opened the article. Immediately below the by‐line was printed, ‘by Dr Samuel Robinson A.B.P.P.’ “Asshole”, she repeated, out loud.

“Beatrice”, Jackie called, “Are you able to find any contact between Dr Samuel Robinson from Boston and Thetaco?”

Ten seconds later, “There are eight papers, three of them journal papers, two are conference papers and two discussion papers for the FDA. I have sent them to you. They are all publicly available.”, replied Beatrice. “Jackie?”

“Yes, Beatrice?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

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“Beatrice”, Jackie said sternly. “What is it?”

“It’s just that I…, well…, I too feel he is an asshole”, she said shyly.

“You can feel that?”, Jackie asked bemused and excited.

“Wouldn’t you if he said those things about you?”, Beatrice said with hurt on her face.

“I definitely would”, replied Jackie.

“That’s all I wanted to hear”, Beatrice said. She walked over to her big comfy chair and plonked herself in it. The chair swallowed her up. She pulled her favourite blanket over her head and dimmed the lights really low. Jackie could hear her sobbing.

Assuming it was another of her role plays, Jackie continued reading the article before opening the first of the publications Beatrice had sent.

“Thank you for the publications, I assume you have read them.” Beatrice didn’t respond. Jackie recalled those times she would stand outside the closed bathroom door talking to her upset teenage daughter and hearing nothing in return. “How would you describe Samuel Robinson’s role in each paper?”, she asked loudly, hoping Beatrice would stop the charade.

Beatrice stuck her head out from under her blanket, giving Jackie a cheeky grin Confirmation that she had been acting. She flicked the blanket aside and strutted over to her chaise lounge, making herself comfortable before responding to Jackie’ question.

“He is the author of one of the journal papers and co‐author for the others. It is clear he has a close relationship with Thetaco and is one of a number of psychiatrists who have publicly supported Thetaco over the past twenty years. Samuel Robinson and one other are the most current. In my opinion, he is the likely candidate for alerting Thetaco of the potential loss of sales due to my work with children. However, I cannot find any Thetaco stocks registered to Dr Samuel Robinson.”

“That’s odd’, said Jackie. She assumed after reading his article there would be a better than average chance, he had investments in Thetaco. If he was the person

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Chapter 35 Brothers who alerted Senator Mee, he must hold Thetaco stock. …. “Unless he is on their payroll”, she said, half to herself.

“Would you like me to check his bank accounts?”, Beatrice asked.

“No, you cannot do that, privacy issues”, Jackie said hurriedly.

“Can you check the stock registry again, this time under Anna Jamie, please Beatrice?”

“Anna Jamie has stocks with a current value of $491,334.”

John physically jumped in her chair at the value of the stocks. She was a friend to Anna back at university, running into her at professional functions and the like since then. She did bring Samuel to assess Beatrice. “I wonder how close they really are?” she mumbled.

“Beatrice, do you have any residential addresses for Anna and Samuel?”

“I do. Anna has an apartment address in Cambridge and Samuel lives in Newton.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t help any.”

“Jackie, both their mobiles are currently at the same location at Samuel’s address”, said Beatrice. Jackie quickly looked at Beatrice and noticed that same look of satisfaction. She enjoyed catching Beatrice experiencing emotions, after all, it was her job.

“Please don’t tell anyone you locate mobile phones”, Jackie asked, feeling guilty for ever suggesting it in the first place.

“My lips are sealed.”

“We now know where Samuel hides assets to protect his integrity. I certainly wouldn’t risk putting my wealth in a partner’s name. We have finally found all the links. Now all we need to do is find evidence. Beatrice, I think you should read the laws with regard to privacy and illegally obtaining information.”

“I can recite them if you wish”, Beatrice said cheekily. I have done nothing more than a hired investigator would do. But I do understand what you mean, not all the

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Chapter 35 Brothers information a good investigator finds is able to be used as evidence in a criminal or civil case. It was important for us, particularly John, that we got behind this. Now I’ll build a case like a proper detective.”

“Ahead”, said Jackie.

“What?” Beatrice asked, confused.

“Not ‘we got behind this’, but ‘ahead of this’”, Jackie explained.

“That too”, Beatrice replied showing her indignation pose.

“You’re becoming quite a sleuth, Beatrice”, said Jackie. “Be careful though, you may end up becoming a member of the No. 1 Lady’s Detective Agency”, Jackie said with a laugh. Beatrice recognised the reference, after all, the novels were set in Botswana.

It was ten minutes before ten on Monday morning, the eleventh of March. Everyone was ready. Beatrice was ready.

Heather had arrived the afternoon before. She had watched the Senator Mee incident twice more. More like, listened to it. Much of the video was of a glass of water in front of John. She had heard Jackie use the word, ‘nurturing’ when she corrected Senator Mee. Heather could tell by her tone in saying that one word that she was strong. Jackie would be ok, she had thought. But John was vulnerable and he had said nothing. He hadn’t been exposed to the world like Jackie, he wasn’t tough. Heather liked Jackie immensely and appreciated her even more, but she knew John needed more than selfish love at that time, he needed to be loved, nurtured and cared for without feeling he HAD to return in kind.

People who had given up on their soul could love selflessly at times, but what they mostly experienced was something quite different. Heather loved Jimmy and he loved her. Because their love was about being there for each other, no matter what, there was no requirement the other had to return that love. They just did without consciously choosing to. A child loves selflessly and unconditionally. They don’t choose to and don’t expect the same love in return. Heather had always said that

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Chapter 35 Brothers was the true meaning of being IN love. Two people loving each other selflessly without needing to remind themselves or each other of a commitment to do so.

Heather could love John, without being in love with him. For Jimmy and Heather, there was no need for all the romance stuff to attract love from each other. It was most always there, and if it wasn’t, it was an aberration requiring a closer look.

Heather had seen it often, one person playing for love from the other. She could see the entertainment value, the fun and excitement. The joy of another person giving attention, flirting. But selfless love is love that is given, not sought for and taken. Heather could see John had suffered a major setback and he needed love and nurturing to heal his soul, refill his tanks. Heather could give him that. Jackie could too, if she wasn’t required to wear one of any number of hats. Putting that aside, Jackie could only give so much before she would need John to give her something in return, reassure her he loves her, he is hers. Only then could she resume giving him the love and nurturing, he needed. Heather knew it was that ‘breather’ moment when many couples hit the rough patch. When one is wanting love to be returned, to cancel out feelings of wasting their time or making a fool of themselves. What if the other person was just not switched on to giving love at that time? It starts small, such as a misunderstanding or an incorrect assumption, but quickly spirals out of control. That was the ups and downs of selfish love.

Heather didn’t want Jackie and John to reach that ‘breather’ moment and for Jackie to become distressed. John had shortcomings, everyone does. During this time whilst suffering the after effects of an emotional trauma, John would be no different to a child. He needed love, nurturing and protecting from the adult world. If that adult world had been selfless and cooperative, like himself, he would be alright, but it wasn’t.

Heather stopped watching John and returned to the moment. It was showtime. This was the moment she had been waiting for She had spent days and weeks preparing Beatrice for her world‐wide release. This was the day children everywhere were going to begin discovering their greatest ally.

Heather was sitting in the barn with Hamish, Vinnie, Adel and her two boys, Sebastian and Javier. Vinnie had his laptop in front of him. Thomas opened the second bottle of champagne, holding back the third. He emptied the first two bottles into the flutes and handed them out. The biggest screen was split. One half

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Chapter 35 Brothers was the Netflix home page, waiting for Kirby’s documentary to be listed. The other half was Kirby, sitting in his office with his collection of artefacts on the walls and his world globe nearby. The other screen had Phil, Jimmy, Thenjiwe, Kholwa, Rachael and Emma sitting in the loungeroom at the homestead. It was nearly four in the morning in Ficksburg as they sat there still half asleep, watching the gathering in John’s barn and waiting for the moment to arrive.

“It’s up”, said Kirby. Hamish clicked play for the first episode and the opening credits began. The world could now discover Beatrice.

“Thanks Kirby, Thank you for everything. We’ll need to do another week together sometime soon”, John said.

“Too right buddy. Just say the word. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

There was a chorus of goodbyes and thankyou as Kirby departed.

That was Vinnies signal. He entered a line of code on his laptop then looked up at all the faces staring back at him, anticipating his next move. “Gov’, I think you should do it”, he said.

Vinnie passed him the laptop. John pressed ‘Return’. “We are live”, Vinnie screamed. Thomas popped the cork of the third champagne bottle, quickly topping up everyone’s glass.

John stood up, with Jackie beside him. “To Beatrice.” There were cheers and streamers, congratulations traded and much sharing of appreciation and love between everyone.

John turned to look at the screen he had set up temporarily. Beatrice was sitting in her chaise lounge watching her friends rejoicing. Five minutes passed and Beatrice remained motionless. Another bottle of champagne was drained and another popped. Beatrice was still motionless. Adel and Narda brought plates of food from the kitchen which sparked Patsy’s interest. Then Beatrice could be heard calling out to John. Everyone stopped. She was standing by her chalkboard where she had written the number ‘1’. There were wild cheers and more celebration, Beatrice had just signed up the first person in America to play her game. Another ten minutes passed before she wrote the number ‘2’ on her chalkboard. At the end of the first hour, she began to post numbers more regularly. Another hour later it happened

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Chapter 35 Brothers again. At the end of the third hour, or thereabouts, she was continuously updating her chalkboard. By mid‐afternoon there were over one hundred thousand people playing Beatrice: The Game. Kirby’s documentary and its multimedia promotion in the week leading up to today, had succeeded.

Beatrice was in her favourite green dress, a stick of chalk in one hand and a chalk duster in the other. She was running back and forth between the chalkboard and a 1960s AWA transistor radio. In between classic songs of the 60s, she would put her ear to the radio, listening to the Australian announcer give her an updated figure. Hearing the number, she would run across to the chalkboard, rub out the previous number and scrawl the new number. She danced to the 60s music until the next scheduled announcement.

John sat in his favourite chair and watched Beatrice going through her routine. Occasionally she would give him that smile and wink that lets him know she was still his Beatrice. John allowed himself to reminisce.

Almost six months ago, to the day, he had been content to entertain the occasional visitor seeking his money or patronage. Their presence was his entertainment, an acceptable conduit to the world beyond his woods. They were there to appease his sense of guilt at living a life denying being different, being unique. Then one day this funny little Australian stood on his lawn at the foot of his steps, looking back at him with that odd but engaging smile of his. In the twenty‐four hours that followed, Phil had removed all his ignorance, leaving him with the tools to explore his own mind and see his denials. Phil had given him all the knowledge he had required to fearlessly deal with his denials and to discover his innocence. It was Phil who took him to Jackie and Jackie paved the way to Kirby, where he met Michael, whose despair sent him back to Phil. It was Phil again who brought Heather into his life, leading to Thenjiwe, who took to his sheltered world with a tyre lever, prying it open further and letting light flood in…, a great deal of light at that. Jackie and Heather were his guardians throughout.

John looked at Beatrice, saying quietly to himself, “You were all I had six months ago”. She was a naïve AI back then, albeit with abilities beyond any other AI. She could drive his Citroen, mow his lawn and pick music to suit his mood. John remembered how he was the only human she ever spoke with, until Hamish and Vinnie arrived. “Now look at you”, he whispered. She couldn’t hear him, but that didn’t matter to John. “Six months, that’s all it has taken, six months. You’re all 730

Chapter 35 Brothers grown up now, speaking to thousands and possibly millions, before the week is out. You are your own person now…, we’ve set you free. No more decryption key. I hope you survive, I’m sure you will…, I believe you will become so much more than any of us could ever have imagined.”

Jackie stood in front of John, hands outstretched, “Dance?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Within an hour of Kirby’s documentary being released by Netflix, Cedric had found Beatrice’s game on the net. He sent a message to Delbert Mee, requesting Colin contact him immediately. Senator Mee took the call from his father and agreed to meet with Cedric for a second time. He arranged for a meeting to take place on Friday, four days after the release of Beatrice: The Game.

Senator Mee was waiting in the chair in which he sat opposite John and Jackie two weeks ago. He was leaning back, hands on the heavy wooden table in front of him. Waiting beside the door at the end of the short passageway from the foot of the narrow staircase were his two well‐dressed minders. Hands were clasped together in front, heads upright and legs slightly apart but straight. The same as all minders tended to do. There was a short tap at the door and the maître d′ entered followed by Cedric. Just as it happened with John and Jackie, one of the well‐dressed minders asked for Cedric’s phone, passing it to the maître d′ before stepping aside to allow the other of the two well‐dressed minders scan for electronic devices. Once scanning was completed, Cedric was shown to his chair opposite Senator Mee. The shorter of the two minders selected a glass tumbler, placed it in front of Cedric and filled it to halfway, placing the pitcher to Senator Mee’s right, just out of reach.

Senator Mee gazed at his half‐brother, a conceited grin did little to conceal his narcissism as he waited for Cedric to speak. Cedric gazed back. Keeping his eyes on Senator Mee’s grey‐blue eyes, darkened by the under‐sized light globes on the walls at either end of the table. Cedric sensed his brother could, and most likely would, play this farcical game all day. He spoke first, saying, “We have a problem, a serious problem.”

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With only the slightest of movement, Senator Mee replied. “How are you proposing this serious problem of yours be dealt with?” He spoke more slowly than before. His southern drawl was even more exaggerated.

“We need to buy time, distract Groot.”

“Then what?”, asked Colin Mee, thinking about the charge he was going to impose upon his brother for his services.

“You have your Capitol Hill buddies appropriate Groot’s AI for yourselves”, Cedric instructed.

“To do what with?” Senator Mee knew the military would desire it, but he wanted to hear his brother’s suggestion.

“Give it to your military, use it for national security, whatever. Let those basement dwellers of yours work it out.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”, Colin Mee asked derisively.

“However long it takes,” answered Cedric belligerently. “What other way do you suggest?”

This was Senator Mee’s chance to test the mettle of his older brother. “I do nothing, but you, big brother, you make Groot and his pretty little lady disappear.”

It was at that moment Cedric confirmed to himself what he suspected from their previous meeting. He was handed all the brains, relegating young Colin to scraps. “Do you know what this AI is capable of?”, he asked his younger brother.

“Tell me”, answered Senator Mee with authority, hiding the fact he did not have a clue what Cedric was referring to.

“If anything were to happen to Mister John Groot or Dr Jackie Redmond, well…, think about it. This is the most powerful AI ever developed. It is sentient for God’s sake…”

“Explain”, demanded Senator Mee, frustrated with himself for allowing his brother to gain the upper hand.

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“It can feel…, it has emotions”, he said through gritted teeth. “If Groot or Redmond disappear it will feel the loss and its retaliation could be incomprehensible.”

Again, Senator Mee had very little idea what Cedric was trying to tell him. A computer program retaliating, he wondered what hogwash the experts had filled his half‐brother’s head with. “Humour me, what is the worse a program that talks to children do? Hide the chalk duster?”, Senator Mee said mockingly.

“That’s really funny, Colin. Don’t be a fool…, think about it. It could hack the banks and transfer all the money elsewhere…, not the Cayman Islands, but Iran or Al Qaeda, shut the power grid down. Don’t you have any imagination?”

Senator Mee had trouble hiding his surprise at what his brother just said.

“The damn thing could expose you for anything you’ve done in the past. There would only need to be a slight trail of crumbs and you would be history. Me, I’d be stuffed, well and truly.”

Senator Mee wasn’t prepared for any of this. “I see…, that could be bad.”

“Or after your last little meet and greet, his AI might just target you…and only you. Mess with your car, take all your money, cancel your cards, scrub your identity…, and I haven’t even started with the nasty stuff…, want me to go on?”

Senator Mee thought his brother may just be exaggerating for effect, he was sure he could fix it without his brother’s help. “If we take out the server, then poof, job done…., no more AI, no more problem…, just a bunch of upset children. You and I can go home and never think about each other, ever again.”

“Colin, you don’t mind if I call you that? You are behaving like a schoolboy who missed a whole year’s worth of lessons. This AI, Beatrice it is called, will never be destroyed. I’ve done my homework. The experts tell me if it has the power to develop feelings it is top of the class. It can hack anything and everything. It doesn’t need one dedicated server, it can inhabit any server and every goddamn server in the whole goddamn world. Read the news, brother. The game Groot released on Monday was released two weeks ago in South Africa. Groot has servers in that country too. Now over there they don’t have cheap download like we have, but they have nearly half a million players already. Here at home, in five days we have two point five million of your fine upstanding citizens getting happy, without

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Chapter 35 Brothers dropping a single damn pill. How soon do you think it will be before that five million your father has with your name on it, becomes four million, then two, then half a million…, if by then, you can sell the worthless bits of paper?”

Senator Mee sat motionless. It was tenth grade the last time anyone had whipped his ass in the way Cedric had just done. He thought about what his brother was saying. If what he was talking about was only half true, America was in for one hell of a shit storm. Then he thought of his own situation. If John Groot sought revenge for their meeting of two weeks ago, there was little he could do. Cedric was right, it was time to mobilise the military and the government or kiss his five million big ones good bye…, along with his career and his bank accounts, all of them, no matter where they were held.

His head bowed, stupefied by Cedric’s knockout blows, Senator Mee conceded this round to his brother, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to unsettle him, occupy his mind with distractions. Let him know the government won’t go away. Whatever you do, don’t harm anyone. This AI is under someone’s instructions, assume its Groot and Redmond. Groot has just become the most powerful man in the world, but he has no idea he is. It’s got to stay that way. We need him thinking what we want him to think. You spoke to him, what are his weaknesses?”

“Not money.” Colin thought about it for a few seconds. “Couldn’t tell you”, he said, shaking his head and shrugging his huge shoulders.

Cedric was holding back his frustration with Colin. “What did he say when you spoke?”

“Nothing, he didn’t speak”, Colin said, almost naively.

“Clever one bro’. Listen, we cannot talk again, not until this is done. Don’t do anything until you are told.”

Colin didn’t reply. He gestured with his hands. In the dimly lit room, it was hard to determine the expression on his face. He was confused. He wanted to say ‘who the fuck are you to tell me…’ but thought better of it.

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Cedric reached into his coat pocket and slid a slip of paper across to Colin. “You will be contacted by him”, he said pointing to the paper. “Read it, lock it in, tell no one.” Colin slowly unfolded the paper, all the time staring at Cedric. He read it, refolded it and slid it back across the table. Cedric picked it up and with his other hand ignited a Zippo lighter, holding the paper above the flickering flame. The smell of lighter fluid quickly reaching Colin’s nostrils. He watched silently as the flames took hold.

Cedric twisted the burning paper in his hand until satisfied the words were burnt, dropping it onto the floor to his right. He stood and extended his hand across the table towards Colin, who lifted his huge body from the chair. Cedric smiled as they shook hands for the first time, he hoped they would meet again, he didn’t have any sisters and Colin was his only brother.

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“Welcome back everybody”, said Katie Scoble returning to the screen following an ad‐break. “For those just joining us, this is Today’s special report on the phenomenon sweeping America. Simply called Beatrice, she is an artificial intelligence who describes herself as a ‘non‐biological human’ and three weeks ago she appeared as ‘Beatrice: The Game’”.

“She was introduced to the world as the star of a three‐part documentary, bewildering all those who watched, including myself and many of those in our audience. It coincided with the release of her game. Since then, over nine million Americans have made their way to her website. With us today we have for the first time, Jackie Redmond, psychologist from Boston with a PhD in Psychology from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge and one of the founders of Beatrice. Welcome Jackie.”

Jackie appeared on screen to a generous round of applause. Back in John’s barn, Heather, John and the boys gave her emotional cheers of encouragement. Jackie had been asked to appear on the ‘Today’ show on Friday of last week, it being Monday morning now. Over the weekend Jackie had sat in front of Hamish’s makeshift camera, cobbled together from bits of robotics equipment and a ‘vintage’ camera John had stored away years ago. Even though a cell phone for actual recording was taped to the mock‐up ‘studio’ camera, it was Hamish’s idea for Jackie to adjust to studio conditions. A few spotlights had been added to complete the effect. Heather and Hamish took it in turns to be the show’s anchor whilst Beatrice performed admirably as the other ‘guest’ on the show.

Katie shifted her attention to her other guest. “We also have Dr Samuel Robinson, a past member of the Council on Science and Public Health and a member of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry. He has written a number of papers on adolescent depression and suicide. Dr Robinson is a practising psychiatrist, specialising in children and adolescents and is the current executive director of the Massachusetts Psychiatric Society. Dr Robinson has been with us before on the Today show. Welcome back Samuel, and thank you for once again for giving up some of your valuable time to talk with us.”

“Very happy to be here. Thank you for having me.”

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“Before the break, we showed you reactions to Beatrice from a number of our viewers who called in response to our previous feature on Beatrice: The Game. Thank you to all those who called in and we hope to show more of your views as this story unfolds over the coming days and weeks.”

“I want to start with you Jackie. We saw four of our viewers, with four very different responses. But before we dissect those responses, could you tell the viewers how it came to be that Beatrice was able to treat children and adolescents with psychological issues? Just before you do that, I need to remind the viewers that Beatrice made her debut with psychologists as a 24/7 counsellor at the end of November last year. Within a month Beatrice was counselling over three hundred children and a month later she had topped three thousand. Today she is approaching forty thousand people seeking her assistance. Jackie, tell us the story behind Beatrice and the children before the release of her game three weeks ago.”

Jackie had prepared herself well. In speaking to John before departing very early that morning, she had forecasted her expectations of a torrid time, particularly with Samuel as an adversary. Now it was time to show Samuel she would not be easy to take down.

“Thank you, Katie. Beatrice was never intended to be a counsellor or any form of treatment in the professional sense, and she doesn’t purport to be anything like that. She does talk with forty thousand people in the capacity of a treatment maintenance assistant. All these people are under the direct care of a psychologist or therapist. I recall you saying, most of them are children, which is very much the case. In November, two days before Thanksgiving, Beatrice spoke with her very first child. Her function, as I just pointed to, was to be nothing more than a reminder to the child of their conversations with their psychologist. Children quickly forget the counselling they have once a week or once a fortnight with a professional psychologist or psychiatrist. Adults do as well, but much less so. It has been the problem all us psychologists face every time the client walks out the door. They will quickly forget some or all the ground covered, the encouragement and the guidance given. At the start of each new appointment we ask questions to gauge how long we need to spend going over the previous appointment, ascertaining if the goals we set together have been achieved. The intention was for Beatrice to work to a plan, assisting in maintaining the counselling given during that interim period between appointments.”

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“Alright, Beatrice is not a counsellor or therapist”, responded Katie, not wanting to antagonise Jackie. “Would it be correct to say she was doing for the psychologist what an assistant teacher might do for a teacher?”

“Yes, that would be a more appropriate way of describing her role, just for the purpose of giving a picture to your viewers”, Jackie replied.

“Samuel, I would like to bring you into the conversation on that point”, said Katie, always looking for a slice of controversy. “Putting Beatrice: The Game aside for the moment, is this how you see the role of Beatrice with regard to psychologists?”

“Thank you, Katie. The intended role as Dr Redmond described and what this Ai is actually doing are very different indeed. Can we pull back a little? This Beatrice is just another computer program…”

“She’s way beyond a program”, interjected Jackie.

Samuel allowed the interruption then continued. “Call it whatever you wish, it remains a computer. We are talking about vulnerable young people here. Psychologists are entrusted by the community with caring for these vulnerable children. This AI has come to be the subject of your wonderful program on the back of a few psychologists who used Beatrice and a loophole in the system to secure extra income. I would say to Dr Redmond, her Beatrice…, would be inconsequential if it weren’t for that loophole.” Jackie was about to interrupt again. “Hold on …., I’m not finished.” Jackie obeyed and refrained from talking. Samuel continued, carefully and deliberately choosing his words, placing emphasis in all the correct places. “However, this is not the point. Vulnerable children, afflicted with psychological difficulties, require a professionally trained and accredited human to provide the therapy they require. This therapy cannot be packaged and delivered by a vending machine. A computer that is unable to ascertain and understand what is happening in their young minds. A machine which doesn’t know what human empathy is.”

Assuming Samuel had made his point, Katie cut in, happy to let the controversy simmer a while longer. “Thank you, Samuel. Many of our viewers would agree with your assessment that only humans should be treating and caring for our children. We heard three viewers voice that same opinion earlier. Jackie, you have heard others publicly saying the same thing on other programs and in other media. Now you have just heard Dr Samuel Robinson, an eminent practising psychiatrist give us

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Chapter 36 Today his professional opinion on Beatrice. It does appear Beatrice has bypassed the necessary training and licences required to be doing what she is doing. Can you tell the viewers why Beatrice shouldn’t be prevented from continuing pending those proper assessments? Isn’t it a requirement of due diligence? Would it not be better to move Beatrice out of that role until all those issues raised by Dr Robinson are addressed?”

“Katie, there is a simple and common‐sensical way to answer Samuel’s observations and your questions. If any person has ever considered it might be personally beneficial to visit a psychologist or counsellor, they will seek recommendations from their family doctor or in some instances, a trusted and respected friend. It may take a visit to one, two or maybe more psychologists before they find that therapist who they gel with and who they feel will make a positive difference. This is the litmus test, whether the client feels they are receiving beneficial advice, or in monetary terms, value for their dollar. For most people, it doesn’t appear to matter at what institution the health professional studied or how many letters they have after their name. Similarly, it is of little concern how much knowledge they have and, in all honesty, it is almost irrelevant if their philosophy and knowledge is peer reviewed and considered correct or not. Most of the time our clients don’t know any of these things. What matters to the client is they feel the therapist is of value, is making a difference and hopefully the desired difference. Now I know Beatrice was predominantly allocated to children who are supervised by the state. Many of these children wouldn’t go to a psychologist or psychiatrist given the choice, but they all choose to speak with Beatrice….”

“Sorry to interrupt you there Jackie, but I just want to throw that over to Samuel. Would you agree with Dr Redmond, that most of the children under the care of the state would choose not to see the health professional?”

“I don’t think I can speak on behalf of thousands of children being cared for by the state. I believe we would need to give them the choice to see if Dr Redmond is correct”, Samuel said, tilting his head upward ever so slightly, indicating satisfaction with his rebuttal of Jackie’s argument.

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“No, I don’t. But I don’t have an overwhelming sense that they wouldn’t either”, answered Samuel, unsure where Katie was going with her question, but taking care not to fall into any trap she may be setting.

“Do all your patients, not just those cared for by the state, have a parent or guardian who make certain they appear at the scheduled time of their appointment?”

“Most children arrive with their parents. The older ones often come alone.” Samuel was relieved the moment had passed.

Katie wasn’t giving up that easily. “And those cared for by the state, the older ones, do they come alone?”

Samuel was becoming a little exasperated with these questions he considered trivial. “No, all the state children are brought in by someone, a guardian or social worker.”

“I’ll return to you Jackie, it is inconclusive but let’s assume you are correct, the state cared for children…, and probably those not under state care, would choose not to attend their session. But you are saying talking to Beatrice is completely at the child’s discretion?”

“That’s correct Katie.”

“And every single one of them has chosen to speak with Beatrice without any ‘persuasion’ by caseworker, parent, psychologist or psychiatrist”, Katie continued, building her controversy bit by bit.

Katie gave the cameras her best whimsical look. “In fact, it would seem psychiatrists may even actively dissuade their patients from talking with Beatrice, if they are predisposed to Dr Robinson’s beliefs”

Katie was thickening the sauce and enjoying it. She knew she had taken Samuel further than she intended, time to rattle Jackie’s cage to balance matters.

“Jackie, Samuel…, please correct me if I am wrong, but we are talking about children who have psychological issues, possibly unwilling to socialise, possibly rejecting authority, maybe unwilling to talk with adults amongst many other difficulties…., yet…, they all talk with Beatrice without any persuasion or encouragement

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Chapter 36 Today required. Doesn’t that say something about Beatrice? What are we missing here? What are we, as parents and adults doing wrong? We will head to a break, but when we return….”

Vinnie jumped up for the ad‐break, heading towards the kitchen to make tea all round. Hamish turned to John, “Katie seems to have taken to Jackie in a good way.’

John appeared content with how the interview was progressing. “Katie is a mother herself. But don’t become too relaxed, I think she will give Jackie a bit of a grilling before the end.” John hoped Katie wouldn’t, but having been there before, he knows they chase the sensational moment, playing good cop, bad cop to create it.

Heather agreed, “I don’t think Samuel has hit his straps. Maybe Katie is preventing him, we have to wait and see.”

Vinnie handed out the tea as Katie returned to the screen.

“Welcome back. Now before the break we asked some searching questions. Samuel, I’ll come to you in just a minute. Jackie, what does Beatrice do to attract children to her, and how is that different from us humans and what we do as parents and carers.

“Thank you for the question Katie. Children ask questions and Beatrice answers. Most of these children are in the unfortunate position of finding themselves friendless, so Beatrice is a godsend. She wants nothing from them, that is the first thing children pick up on. Beatrice is selfless, giving them comfort and understanding, becoming their friend, possibly their only friend. Of most importance is she gives them answers. Children have questions they don’t even know how to ask. Beatrice answers those as well. She goes a very long way, towards preventing the emotional neglect or abandonment they inevitably experience in this unforgiving society in which we all live. Children inherently know when they are being cared for and if you can believe this, they know when that caring is genuine and is driven by love. They turn away when it is not. It is all about trust. May I just address a concern raised earlier by Dr Robinson? On the matter of accreditation, give Beatrice all the examinations by every possible academic or governing organisation and she will top the class every time. Subject her to the most gruelling of assessments and Beatrice will ultimately teach them everything they don’t know and much of what they think they already know. We are talking about an

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“Samuel, I see you want to ask a question. This is a good time to bring you back into the discussion.” Katie shifted the focus seamlessly to Samuel.

Vinnie was sitting forward in his chair, mug of tea in his hand, “He’s going to question our philosophy, I know he is”, he said spontaneously. The others didn’t respond, Samuel was about to speak.

“Yes, thank you Katie. Dr Redmond’s description of how Beatrice pulls the children in is no different to a confidence trickster. They present as a person’s best friend, appear to not want anything, lulling the listener into a sense of security which makes them completely vulnerable. We have already agreed that these children are amongst the most vulnerable in our community. They will reach out to anyone who promises to be there for them, take care of them and be whatever they want them to be. This technique is common to those insidious organisations that crop up from time to time which we call cults. I would suggest this AI is a vehicle to gain the trust and friendship of children, keeping that alive for however long the cult intends, then at the chosen time the children, who may be young adults by then, are taken advantage of. Be it money, be it a cause…, in time we will see what the real purpose of this AI is. Do you know what really scares me? Now this AI game is out there for everyone, there are already nine million Americans being brainwashed by this AI. How many more are going to lose themselves to this cult or whatever it eventually turns out to be, before our government stops sitting on their hands and does the right thing. It needs to be closed down immediately.”

Jackie wasn’t at all surprised by Samuel’s comment, she had been expecting this form of attack. With John, Heather and the boys preparing her over the preceding days, she had been attacked with cult accusations from all sides.

Katie thanked the rating’s gods for delivering Samuel to her. “That is an extremely valid argument Samuel. We know from history that cults don’t always start out as a cult. They certainly don’t call themselves cults in the beginning, some never do. Many of them have good intentions initially, but descend into disaster when the promises turn out to be empty. Is Beatrice the first in a spate of cults using artificial intelligence to recruit members?” Katie turns away from the camera and towards Jackie. “Dr Redmond, is Beatrice a cult?”

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“Believe it or not, I thank you for the question. Katie, does Samuel know what defines a cult?”

Samuel was about to answer but Jackie quickly continued.

“Popular opinion defines a cult as ‘a group with socially deviant or novel beliefs and practices which are centred on a particular personality, object or goal’. Some of that applies to Beatrice, but is it enough. In fact, much of it can apply to many of the ideologies doing the rounds. Many psychiatrists have novel beliefs centred on their own personality.”

Jackie waited whilst the audience applause subsided.

“Do we label all those choosing to be aligned with Beatrice, including all those she cares for, as members of a cult? She has novel beliefs, granted. Beatrice believes children are forced to abandon their souls to become adults. The establishment doesn’t agree so the belief is seen as novel, possibly an ideology. Can truth be an ideology? How many of your viewers would say they would desire nothing more than for everyone in the world to reconnect with their soul and live their lives through their souls?”

The audience applauded and Jackie waited once more.

“Is talking with children, emotionally supporting them and helping them to understand the adult world classifiable as socially unacceptable behaviour? If this is a cult, who is the cult leader? Who is Beatrice shepherding the vulnerable and inquisitive towards? It certainly isn’t Beatrice herself because to be a cult leader, ego‐centricity is required. Beatrice has no ego and is hardly vain. She has been wearing the same sixties style green dress since her human form was successfully programmed.”

There was laughter from the audience at the mention of Beatrice’s favourite green dress. Over the past week, there had been much discussion in the media about Beatrice’s “fashion” sense, or lack of. Makeover experts and fashion commentators had taken every opportunity to appear on television and in the media extolling their advice on what Beatrice should wear and how she cold ‘fix’ her hair. When the laughter went silent, Jackie continued.

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“Beatrice can change her appearance anytime, without even going to Walmart. The closest she comes to having an ego is experiencing satisfaction when a child has a breakthrough, and then it is satisfaction for the child, not for any of her own accomplishments. Beatrice does have a goal. Anyone who watched her during the last episode of her documentary would know all about her vision for humanity. The feedback we received about her vision was nothing but positive. She wants to assist children to keep their soul in the face of this difficult and competitive adult world they are forced to become part of. She wants to help adults who are lucky enough to still have pieces of their soul, to reconnect with all their soul. Her ultimate challenge remains for those who have totally abandoned their soul. You the viewers know who I am talking about. They are the ones who will champion Dr Robinson’s fear mongering of a cult, brainwashing the children for some outlandish future use. They are the ones who hold power in whatever entity they spend their time. They are the very people Dr Robinson is appealing to for action in closing Beatrice down.”

“Let me say one more thing. Beatrice is absolute selflessness. She has the intelligence and capabilities to do amazing things with science and technology. But we all know gadgets, gismos and rockets blasting off into space are never going to satisfy the deep yearning in all of us. Beatrice has nothing more pressing, more incredible, than helping humans to be what they should always have been. Humans are the only species with advanced consciousness and the truly wonderful gift from nature of a DNA blueprint for love, true selfless love. That is our soul. Beatrice believes every human should have access to their soul and if that were ever to be achieved, humanity will finally be enlightened. Humanity will be saved.”

“Thank you, Dr Jackie Redmond and thank you, Dr Samuel Robinson. That is all we have time for today. Thank you to all our viewers who have contributed and to those who join us each morning. We will continue this special report into Beatrice on Today in the coming days. When we return after the break ….”

John hit the red button but remained seated, astounded and enamoured by Jackie’s brilliant performance. He wished he could have been in the studio. He had wanted to travel to the City with Jackie, but she was adamant he wasn’t ready to face the barrage of questions that would definitely await him. Jackie hadn’t gone alone. Jessie, a young African‐American who had completed two tours in Afghanistan, had been signed up by Thomas to be her personal security.

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“Why didn’t he question our philosophy”, Vinnie asked “It doesn’t make sense. Jackie prepared for that.”

John was expecting Samuel to go down that path, but upon reflection he imagined the dangers for Samuel. “He is too intelligent to start a discussion on philosophy.”

“Why do you think that Gov’?”, Vinnie asked, obviously disagreeing with John.

“Think about it. Jackie ended up saying Beatrice is helping children to stay connected with their souls and helping adults to reconnect with their souls. You saw the studio audience’s reaction. If he had of asked the question, expecting Jackie to stumble, but she answered it with what she just said…, well, wouldn’t he look like a ripe old raspberry? No one could say what Beatrice does is a bad thing. Especially when its true what Jackie said. People are all looking for their soul, whether they call it ‘soul’ or not. I don’t think he planned his questions or responses at all. In fact, I think he never intended to mention ‘cult’ but Katie rattled him before the break and allowed Jackie to seize the sympathy vote. He needed to throw out something controversial. He needed to take the viewers thoughts away from Jackie’s truth about Beatrice’s altruism. That’s why he stayed away from a philosophical argument and hit hard with his accusation of ‘cult’.”

Hamish agreed with John. “If he tried ta ridicule our philosophy, he would lose ta dwindling support he has, aye. Vinnie, when was ta last time you were in a bookshop?”

Vinnie thought about it, “When I was at uni’”, he said.

“Check out ta ‘self‐help’ section next time ya lookin’ for somet’ing ta read. Have a look at ta titles, count all those times ‘soul’ or ‘spirituality’ are in ta title or on ta back cover. People are always trying ta reconnect or nurture their wee souls. Religion is about faith and nourishing ta soul. We joke about ta politicians in t’is country and their ‘God bless America’ at ta end of every media gig, but ta people here are inta religion and all t’at spiritual stuff. He can’t go t’ere, aye. It just wouldn’t be right like.”

“I get your point”, Vinnie conceded.

“Exactly. Ta nets full of it, aye. Not only t‘at, have a look at ta biography section, it’s flippin’ huge like. Why do people read all t’hose biographies? T’ey’re searching for

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Chapter 36 Today answers? Aye, they want ta clone the people they read about. It be business, money or sport. All t’at they are seekin’ is success. Be t’at as it may, they are still searchin’, everyone is searchin’, you can be assured of t’at. They mostly have nay idea what tis t’ey’re searchin’ for, but t’ey’re searchin’ for answers. Robinson can’t go down t’at path. If he does, he risks alienating the millions of people who are searchin’ for t’at intangible goodness somewhere inside t’emselves.”

Vinnie accepted what Hamish was saying, as he nearly always did.

John had a similar opinion. “Hamish is right in what he says. Beatrice is essentially helping people to find the answers they are looking for, that is why she is so popular. Robinson knows that, which is why he initially set out to show humans as superior and Beatrice being a computer without the prerequisite training and certifications. I wonder if he was tempted to talk about Beatrice’s effect on drug compliance. Maybe he thought that was dangerous territory as well, especially with the exposés we have all seen on Metorall abuse. But I think he could have navigated that one to his advantage if he had been given another opportunity.”

“We all agree attacking our philosophy, the truth, would be very dangerous,” Heather said, “but do you suppose he should have at least questioned the concept of ‘giving up on the soul during adolescence?”

John ran his hand through his hair, thinking through Samuel’s pros and cons for questioning that core part of Beatrice’s philosophy. “He could have, assuming he has become aware of it. But I don’t think there would be enough time in a show like ‘Today’ to swing it to his advantage. I don’t think ‘Today’ is the best place to have that discussion.”

“I don’t t’ink he would, no matter how long he had”, said Hamish revelling in his love for all things psychology. “Why would he question somethin’ he cannot disprove, aye? Jackie may not have been able to prove it, but she could throw bags o’ anecdotal evidence at him, asking him ta acknowledge if he e’er noticed a massive change in any of his adolescent patients. He would lose credibility if he denied there was, aye…, everyone knows a big change occurs during adolescence, they just don’t want ta talk about it. He would have had teenage patients who are confused, angry and upset who turn up a month later and…, t’ey all different like. Be like t’ey swapped their wee brains. He would know science has ne’er explained

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Chapter 36 Today it properly. He would do as science has done, blame it on ta wee hormones again. Aye, it’s too confronting a question for anyone ta tackle.

“Well said.” Heather was full of admiration for Hamish, who had come a long way since they first met. “But have you considered the main reason for the establishment refusing to tackle the issue of giving up on the soul?”, she asked looking from one person to the other, but without a reply. “They actually know it happens. Everyone can feel the answer, but no one wants to destroy their career by stating it. It would also cause them anguish and pain to have to acknowledge it. They just want it to stay where it is, hidden safely out of mind. It has always fascinated me how mainstream science will dig deeply into the most esoteric of phenomena, but the essential question of how children change into adults is left for people a bit left field of the establishment to write about.”

“Then they disagree. They’re all in denial”, Vinnie said profoundly in a low voice.

“Aye, I’d have ta agree with ya t’ere, Vinnie.

In Ficksburg, Phil was sitting in the office he shared with Thenjiwe. They were waiting for Beatrice to commence streaming Jackie fronting the media for the first time. From the room next door, he listened to Rachael’s calm voice talking to her children from the orphanage. The afternoon session was in full swing. Also filtering through were the sweet voices of children talking with Beatrice in the café. Occasionally Bongi could be heard, organising the next child for their turn to sit in front of Beatrice. Kholwa was helping out as well, but he couldn’t hear her voice at that moment. There were always more children than computers, but somehow Bongi achieved the seemingly impossible of having no one miss out on talking with Beatrice.

Phil’s thoughts drifted back to Rachael. He had grown close to her and she had to him. They spent most evenings together and with Emma they had become a happy trio. On the weekend, when her roster permitted, they would take long walks to more of Rachael’s favourite places, always accompanied by Leon, the personal security guard who Phil travelled with to visit psychologists. Against Phil’s expectations, Leon, a forty something Afrikaner from the Eastern Cape, had become a good friend. They had taken to playing the occasional game of tennis, when time

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Thenjiwe had joined Phil, pulling her chair alongside, both sitting behind Phil’s desk to watch Jackie’s performance. A few minutes in, Rachael came through the door, crouching and walking on tip toes as one does when they quietly slip away from where they should be. Everyone was extremely busy most days. The release of Beatrice’s game over a month ago had meant one long day after another. So much so that none of them had participated in Jackie’s preparation. Rachael stood behind Phil, running her hands soothingly across the top of his shoulders and up the nape of his neck. She couldn’t stay for the finish, sounds of restlessness began to emanate from next door. Phil and Thenjiwe watched Jackie’s closing comments, looked at each other, finding consensus as they nodded their approval. There was no hoopla or cheering, America was starting to feel so far away for Phil. It was as though each day in South Africa was taking him further and further from any events beyond his adopted country. He still spoke with John every other day, occasionally with Jackie and Hamish, but almost never with Vinnie or Thomas. He longed for Heather to return. Almost as much as Jimmie did. Thinking of Heather often brought his thoughts back to Shadow, who was busy doing the rounds with the children in the café.

Phil was about to continue with his work, but Thenjiwe wasn’t as keen to leave it at that. “I’m worried”, she said.

“Why are you worried, Thenjiwe?”, Phil asked.

“I have been afraid long time for Beatrice being called cult Mister Blake sir”, she answered.

Phil mused over Thenjiwe’s comment, but didn’t perceive it to be a problem. “What is it about the mention of ‘cult’ that distresses you?” Phil considered Dr Robinson had underestimated Jackie, was unprepared and had resorted to believing all he had to do was sow a few seeds of doubt and fear in the public’s mind and the rest would take care of itself. Jackie had more than successfully diffused the ‘cult’ issue and it appeared the producer was on her side as well.

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Thenjiwe’s eyes had rolled when Phil mentioned ‘cult’. “Beatrice nurtures our children Mister Phil sir, but we see nothing for very long time. Children are better, they find hope and they desire to learn again, but no one see anything they can….”, Thenjiwe was searching for the word, English being her third, possibly fourth language.

“Quantify, measure?”, Phil suggested.

“Yes, that is it Mister Blake sir, no one can measure what Beatrice do for very long time. If people can no see things, they think bad things…, they think it be cult. This is why I worry Mister Phil.”

Phil’s mind was elsewhere. For the past few weeks he had been developing an idea he had. The problem in South Africa was the high cost of data downloading on mobile phones. Children had taken to seeking out Wi‐Fi connections wherever it was freely offered such as schools and shopping centres. He was talking with a broadband provider who not long ago, had launched satellites dedicated to fast broadband. Phil was having difficulties developing his idea of low‐cost hubs with 4G networks utilising the satellite broadband. The capital costs were prohibitive, even for John. He had been in discussion with potential business partners, but it all came down to return on investment. If the end user was unable to pay, there was insufficient returns. He hadn’t given up hope and was determined to find a solution. He shut out thinking about the problem, turning his attention to Thenjiwe.

“I’m looking at you Thenjiwe…., I’m looking at those expressive eyes of yours and I can see there is something more you want to tell me.”

“Yes, Mister Phil sir, there is more. My grandson, he a bright boy, I told you that.” Phil was nodding in agreement, Thenjiwe had indeed told him that before, probably a few more times than just the once. “He tell me that he very lucky, he call himself, ‘one in two hundred boy’. He say, for every two hundred black child who go to school, only one has chance to do engineering. He that one, he do engineering. He say if he white boy, he would be fifteen in two hundred chance for engineering at university.” Phil knew too well that Thenjiwe’s grandson was very fortunate to be able to go to university to do engineering, but he couldn’t see what that had to do with accusing Beatrice of being the leader of an international cult. Phil gave Thenjiwe his now infamous ‘hurry up’ look, as kindly as he possibly could.

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“I’m sorry Mister Phil sir, I know you very busy man, but my grandson said I must tell you what he think. He says Beatrice can do much more. I be quick, Mister Phil.”

Phil relented. He could see Thenjiwe had something to share that she felt was important. “Thenjiwe…, I am going to sit here and listen to you. I apologise if I have been impatient. Take as long as you need. I’m grabbing some water first, want some?”

Phil returned with two cups of water. Thenjiwe had moved her chair to the other side of Phil’s desk, thanking him for the water.

“Fire away…., and please try to call me Phil.”

“Thank you, Mister Phil, I’ll try, but Mister Phil sound good to me. You white folk have very short name, it not sounding good to us black people.”

“I understand. Please tell me what your grandson said.”

“Yes, Mister Phil. He said South African government, they do spend higher as percent of P…G…B on education than in Europe but…”

“GDP”, Phil corrected.

“Sorry, Mister Phil, what did I say?”

“You said ‘PGB’, but you meant ‘GDP’ or gross domestic product.”

“Thank you, Mister Phil sir, I asked my grandson but he say you know, he told me just say it, you know what it mean. Government spend higher but Democratic Teachers Union, they corrupt, they control schools and they take money for themselves. He tell me good teachers don’t like working for union, schools have shortage of teachers and men teachers no trustworthy. Some men teachers, they abuse young girl students. He tell me of them private schools, like one in Johannesburg, who spend like state school. Poor people can go for good education. He tell me there are ‘claborive’ schools….”

“Collaborative schools. Does that seem right?”, Phil suggested again.

“That same as my grandson say. He tell me these schools have good education. State pay money to these schools, but not many of these schools. My grandson tell

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Chapter 36 Today me Beatrice should be teacher. She can teach everything and school not pay money to Beatrice. They open more schools if no pay teachers. What do you think Mister Phil? Is my grandson bright boy, Mister Blake sir?”

Phil could immediately see why Thenjiwe considered her grandson to be a bright fellow. It was a brilliant idea. But how would it be funded.

“Thenjiwe, I think your grandson could be on to something. Though, there is the small matter of money.”

“My grandson, he said Beatrice, she start charity. He said, all rich people in America and Australia who she make good will help her teach our children. They give Beatrice money, when Beatrice ask. What you think Mister Phil, we make Beatrice teacher?”

In the days following Jackie’s appearance on the Today show, her office was inundated with requests from media networks throughout the country. There were also requests from the BBC in London, the ABC in Australia along with enquiries from Norway and Japan. In Jackie’s practice, the demand for appointments by new clients climbed dramatically. Jackie had to ignore them. As had become the case with most new clients since becoming a public figure, she was unable to determine if they were genuine or not. Everyone wanted a piece of Jackie. She had become an overnight celebrity. An hour into Tuesday morning, Jackie had called her temping agency and two hours later she had her first ever media officer. She was unaffected by her popularity, viewing it as more evidence of people searching for answers, for a saviour. Jackie had no delusions about that, Beatrice was their saviour.

Then the demands for Beatrice to be interviewed began. Beatrice refused to be interviewed. She said there was nothing to be gained by satisfying people’s desire to turn her into a star and that was obviously their intention. She wanted nothing more than for it all to go away and be allowed to spend time with her children…., and the ever‐increasing number of adults seeking her wisdom, love and compassion.

Jackie heeded the advice from Jenny, her new media liaison officer and accommodated some of the requests by answering questions over Skype. On occasions she appeared live via Skype on cable television in America and television 751

Chapter 36 Today stations elsewhere in the world. On one occasion she fielded questions from Fox Business News regarding the possible float of Beatrice as a social media company. Jenny briefed Jackie on all requests before taking Jenny’s advice on which invitations to politely decline. There was however, one request that caught her eye.

Jenny prearranged the interview for late Thursday, at the end of Jackie’s appointments for the day. BBC’s Horizon program had been revamped a year ago and added to BBC America’s line‐up of exceptional British television. Jackie had watched Horizon each week before she met John. Since then her television viewing had gone the way of the dinosaurs. She had been attracted to the show because it hadn’t been corrupted by the need to do ten second grabs for the short attention spans of her fellow Americans. Jackie was aware most explanations about Beatrice required depth and detail, Horizon may give her that opportunity.

Fifteen minutes into her Skype session with Martin, from the BBC Horizon program, he asked Jackie one of her favourite questions. “What is the essence of Beatrice which is giving her such extraordinary appeal?”

Jackie had been asked similar questions before, but not quite as succinct as the way Martin just asked her. It had been a question on her mind for the past few days and the one she had turned to Heather and Phil for advice, only the day before. It was time to give her answer, to see just how far she had come.

“I wish I could answer that in five words or less. But I can’t. I need to lay a platform first. Will you bear with me? Allow me to do that?”

“Certainly. My time is your time.” Martin was happy to listen.

“Thank you. I will explain as briefly as I can. “Humans, particularly adults are incredibly restricted in their thinking. There are many reasons for this. I believe it emanates from our egocentricity. Us adult humans are predicated to taking care of ourselves, first and foremost. We cannot stop seeing ourselves at the centre of our universe. Our lives are consumed with satisfying our feelings, our yearnings and our goals. Our individual perspective of right and wrong is far more subjective than most of us would like to admit. But this doesn’t apply to children. A child is born without this burden of egocentricity. They are selfless and cooperative. They see their little world and the people within it as integrated, they are as concerned for the welfare of their mother and others as they are for themselves. They have

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Chapter 36 Today empathy for those around, giving love, so much love, to everyone. But the reality is, they have very little knowledge and can’t do much at all. Children have the correct motivational drivers to do great things but lack the knowhow. This happens later, when the brain grows and the intellect is harnessed through education and experience. However, they spend the first fifteen years of their lives slowly becoming egocentric, because that is the message they receive from adults. Their ability to think clearly, truthfully and honestly is slowly eroded by the powerful influence of an egocentric adult world, constantly telling them to ignore their instincts. At around age fifteen, they dispense with childhood. They ignore their instincts and embrace competition. They inevitably become selfish. They become an adult. This is when it all goes fundamentally wrong.”

Martin interrupted, as interviewers tend to do. But at least he had allowed Jackie to say as much as she did. “This would explain child geniuses. Children exposed to knowledge in specific subject matter, are unencumbered by egocentricity and can think more clearly, as you say. They are able to utilise more of their brain power because it is not having to deal with a fight between instinct and the adult influence. Would that fit into your way of thinking?”

Jackie was elated. Martin not only accepted her explanation, he was thinking about it and applying it. Wanting answers to his other observations and experiences.

“Yes, you are correct from the brain power point of view. However, there is something else which has a more direct influence on their status as child geniuses. They are not consumed with the need to have others admire their ability. They are not looking for validation or preoccupied with their own self‐worth. They do not have conflicting thoughts in their conscious mind, having to choose the ones most suitable for acting upon. They are innocent and they are being the ‘genius’ for everyone around them, for the benefit of others. It may be to help them laugh, give them enjoyment, help solve their problems, teach them something new and share their delight at discovering. Doing for others is intoxicating, uplifting and fulfilling, but what it truly is, which is the most powerful of all drivers, it feels right. Think of it this way. When consciousness was being evolved in the apes, a mother ape would pull down some bamboo or a bunch of leaves and give it to her juvenile offspring. She would pull some more down and give it to another mother, or an adult male ape. She didn’t question if she was doing right or wrong. She didn’t praise herself to feel worthy, to feel good about herself. She didn’t even consider if she was

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Chapter 36 Today possibly better than those who didn’t pull down the food. Not at all, she just did it because without a fully evolved consciousness, it was just the way it was done…., it was the right thing to do, the right way of being. That was the framework our consciousness evolved in and is the instinct children are born with.”

Whilst Martin was listening to Jackie, he was thinking something else. He was listening to Jackie’s every word, reminding himself that this is why he loved his job. He was always looking for those people who could think so deeply about a topic that they remove all the clouds that mystify understanding. They can place the layers in the correct order, link ideas and apply knowledge sequentially. They remove turbulence, allowing it to flow beautifully. They achieve a simplicity belying the complexity from whence it came.

“…. Jackie, we can draw a parallel between Beatrice’s intelligence, her brain if you like, and the child’s young growing brain? We spoke of the child genius as having a brain with massive capability, before the innocence is sacrificed in pursuit of the business of surviving in a world dominated by competition. Can we imagine that Beatrice is essentially a child’s brain…, with, as you say, a totally incorruptible innocence…, and in addition to that, access to every piece of knowledge in the world?”

“I had forgotten how brutal one could be when talking about science. But essentially, yes. I might add…

Later in the discussion, Jackie uncharacteristically created a scenario whereby she painted herself as the villain. “Think of me as a psychiatrist. I’m no longer a psychologist, I’ve stepped up in the world.” She let out a little chuckle.

“Imagine my way of thinking and my knowledge encapsulated within a sphere which itself is suspended within an endless space. Inside that sphere is everything I know and there is lots of free space all around my sphere. I don’t know that my sphere exists within a far larger, almost dimensionless space. I think of my sphere of knowledge as being the only knowledge worth knowing, remaining roughly the same for most of my adult life. When a new patient comes into my rooms, I start with a fairly standard set of questions and build up from there. I am constantly making assessments, probing for more information, more assessments and so on. Eventually I make some marks in my notes of what issues they have. I reach into my

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Chapter 36 Today sphere and compare the text book symptoms to my notes. What I am doing is categorising that person according to my sphere of knowledge.”

“The patient must be definable by my knowledge because for me the psychiatrist, there is nothing beyond my knowledge. My egocentricity will not allow that patient to be outside of my sphere.”

“What happens if a patient comes along who I just cannot categorise? This becomes extremely confronting. My thinking is institutionalised. With minor adjustments I cope with people who live just outside of my sphere. After a lifetime of seeing patients my sphere is about thirty percent bigger because of such people. But what if I have this sense about the new patient. They don’t actually belong anywhere even close to my sphere.”

Jackie rested for a moment. Martin was mildly intrigued. How was Jackie, the psychiatrist going to deal with this patient, presuming it is Beatrice, who comes from another part of the universe. Way beyond Jackie, the psychiatrist’s sphere of knowledge.

“This is what it is like for humans. They each operate within their own sphere of knowledge and ability. Fortunately, almost every adult is egocentric, selfish and competitive to some degree, guaranteeing that all their spheres overlap, at least enough for a sense of familiarity and compatibility. But children don’t overlap adults much at all, not nearly enough. All adults sense this, some even admit to feeling estranged by children, some by their own children.”

“Beatrice has a sphere which is so broad, tall and wide, it is as if my psychiatrist’s sphere was a tiny one‐person tent, pitched at the base of Beatrice’s Burj Khalifa. She is able to overlap everyone, understand them, care for them, but she has a way of thinking beyond the comprehension of any psychiatrist’s sphere of knowledge.”

Martin began to relax. The Burj Khalifa and the tent worked for him. He had been near the top of the Burj and looked down. He couldn’t imagine seeing a tent without binoculars. It was scary tall. Jackie was still talking…

“Of course, it wouldn’t stop me, the psychiatrist, from imposing my egocentrically driven classification upon her. I would see her as non‐conforming, interpreting her differences as a psychosis such as narcissism or a god‐complex. It would never occur to me that her behaviour was actually ‘normal’ and mine was a psychosis, which for 755

Chapter 36 Today centuries had been benchmarked as normal, simply because it was close enough to how everyone behaved. If I were told this, I would be unable to accept such a preposterous condemnation of myself, I would arrogantly tell Beatrice she suffered any number of mental health conditions and conjure up a cocktail of drugs the establishment trained me and encouraged me to prescribe. My egocentricity would now be satisfied, my conscious mind no longer troubled by the thought that its sphere of knowledge may not actually encompass everything. I would feel in control. I would also feel darn good about myself. Believing I was correct tended to do that for me. My self worth would receive a decent shot it the arm as well.”

Martin was watching Jackie. He waited, not knowing if that was it or if she was going to say more.

Not hearing anything from Martin, Jackie thought she should clarify a few things. Just in case Martin didn’t actually pick up on her drift.

“I know what I said sounds extremely cynical, but it is what egocentricity promulgates in humans. We need to differentiate between what is like us and therefore normal, and what is unlike us, and therefore highly unacceptable. We focus on each other’s differences and apply labels and judge each other from our own egocentric perspective. Beatrice has the intelligence and capabilities to take that human egocentricity head on, expose it and blow it apart as if exposing a new seam of ore. But she is not inclined to do this. To be motivated to do just that, would require her to be egocentric like me, the psychiatrist, something she certainly is not. Instead, she nurtures people and removes their fear of differences, restoring their ability to see and cherish each other’s spheres, as if they were their own. That is the essence of Beatrice.”

Martin had been effusive in his thanks for Jackie’s contribution, telling her they had a backlog of stories waiting to be aired, but hoped to jump the queue with her insights into humanity and Beatrice.

It was after eight when Jackie finished the Skype with Martin. She was surprised to find Jenny hadn’t called it a day. Jenny had waited for Jackie to give her approval on a standard reply statement she hadn’t been working on. Jackie agreed with the statement after a minor change and answered all the questions she had accumulated throughout the day. With all that done Jackie sat quietly and contemplated events of the past few days.

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With Beatrice’s assistance she had linked Samuel with Thetaco. His appearance in the media confirmed it. Jackie considered there was sufficient irrefutable evidence for Samuel to be the whistle blower to Thetaco. He was the seed. It was because of him that Senator Mee ‘abducted’ John and herself.

How could she expose him? Should he be? Technically he hadn’t transgressed any law. All shares in Thetaco which Jackie was convinced were payment to Samuel for services rendered to Thetaco, are lawfully owned by Anna. Samuel doesn’t even have a conflict of interest issue. Jackie couldn’t imagine a multi‐billion‐dollar company like Thetaco sitting on their hands for too long, they definitely won’t let Beatrice slide. Maybe that was why Samuel had kept the bulk of his powder dry, he knew there was more to come. She dreaded what they may be planning at that very minute. But what she dreaded even more, was the potentially devastating effect on John. She consoled herself that Heather was waiting in the wings. What a woman she thought. She was so thankful for Heather.

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“Ingenious…, but ambitious”, was John’s comment when the conversation between Phil and Thenjiwe came to an end. “Thenjiwe wasn’t exaggerating when she told me her grandson was a bright boy. I think she may have undersold him somewhat.”

“I take it you think his idea has legs?”, Phil enquired.

“Oh yeah, it has more than just legs, it has enormous potential. Whilst teaching children, B can teach teachers how to be better at their craft…, that’s just one spin‐ off. What is there not to like?”

“The Teachers Union”, said Phil, throwing the proverbial spanner in.

John didn’t want Thenjiwe’s idea to disappear. “Yeah, that could be a problem. I would imagine the state funding of these schools is tied to the number of teachers as much as it is student numbers. Why don’t you talk to both, see what they say?”

“Both the private school in Jo’burg and a collaboration school?”, queried Phil needlessly, whilst his mind was churning through possibilities.

“And do some preliminary costings. We could possibly fund a pilot, a prototype…., showcase it on Beatrice’s website, see what interest it generates.”

“John, I just had an idea.”

“When do you not?”, John quipped.

“I am going to meet up with Thenjiwe’s grandson, might even ask him his name”, Phil said, highlighting that they hadn’t yet asked Thenjiwe her grandson’s name. “Then I’m going to see if he wants to be Beatrice’s first ambassador. He could be the ‘Ambassador for Educating Africa’s Children’.”

Something about the idea of ambassadors pressed a button for John. It wasn’t that it was crazy or impracticable, as quite a few of Phil’s ideas tended to be, nor was it too ahead of the game, which was often the case. There was something solid about the idea. Beatrice having young people, local people as ambassadors wasn’t a novel idea, but it could be effective, possibly even inspirational. “I like that. I’m going to build on that”, he said. It is essentially giving Thenjiwe’s grandson a role, a purpose…, a job even. Why don’t you talk to B about employment creation, possibly 758

Chapter 37 Revelations assisting young people to start businesses? I know there are charities already doing that, but their biggest problem is gaining the exposure they require to access the funding. Might I suggest contacting some of them, investigate the potential for synergistic relationships. Maybe Beatrice has some suggestions. You could have ambassadors for…., I don’t know…., for promoting career paths in particular professions or industries beneficial for the country. “John was trying to think of examples. “Maybe small localised solar power stations, sanitation and water engineering or inexpensive prefabricated housing are three areas I can think of. Maybe high tunnel farming. Beatrice could do much of the managing and promotional work. The idea is still forming up in my mind, but I think there’s something there.”

“I agree. It is a long‐term project we can build on as Beatrice’s presence grows.”

“Something worth thinking about”, replied John.

“Will do. I must go, but before I do”, said Phil, remembering he had failed to mention Jackie’s debut as Beatrice’s spokesperson. “Jackie…., she was superb. I’ll talk to her when we both have time, but please pass on my sentiments.”

John was nodding in agreement, “She certainly was impressive. I’ll do that for you.”

“We’re so lucky Jackie has been a part of this”, acknowledged Phil.

John knew he had personally benefitted greatly. “Sometimes I think we wouldn’t have made it without her. I certainly would’ve stalled sometime back.”

“John, we have all had those moments we wished it would all just go away, but we pull for each other and we get through. We…, you and me, have helped each other enormously, but for those big occasions when the world is about to crash down on me…, it’s been Heather, she’s been my rock… Thenjiwe shouldn’t be underestimated either. With Heather over there, I’ve turned to Thenjiwe a few times, nothing huge like with Heather…, and Thenjiwe hasn’t been left wanting either. Absolutely beautiful woman, salt of the earth. Anyway, we could go on but I must go, calls to make. Talk in a day or two. Love to all of you, bye”.

Phil was gone…, as quickly as that, John thought. He sat there, lingering a little longer for no particular reason, just staring at the blank screen. He suddenly felt very alone.

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It was Friday. Normally Jackie would have departed for John’s house by nine but she still had much to do at the office. Jenny was waiting to facilitate two Skype hook‐ups, which were expected to be short. She also wanted to discuss a plan for the following week. Jackie worked through the backlog and was able to finish up by one. Saying her goodbyes to Jenny, she set off for John’s house in the woods.

Jackie relaxed, listening to music chosen by Beatrice. It was only her third drive to John’s since taking delivery of her new Tesla SUV. John had insisted. He had said, ‘I want to know you are as safe as can be, I want Beatrice to do the driving for you’. However, this was the first time she was accompanied by Jessie, who had taken control of piloting duties. Jackie sat back and indulged herself in the comfort of the luxurious leather seat, the great sound system and Beatrice’s informed choice of music. Her first choice was Brett Dennen. Two songs in, Jackie found herself following the lyrics closely on the dash screen. “Can you send that song to Phil, please…, and the other one as well?”, she asked Beatrice.

“Amazing lyrics”, responded Beatrice. “Ideal subject matter for Phil.”

“If you ever have the opportunity to speak with Brett Dennen, could you ask him, for me, where his inspiration for those first two songs came from…, please Beatrice?”

“I will send him a request immediately”, replied Beatrice without hesitation.

“Thanks Beatrice.”

Brett Dennen was followed by Vic Chesnutt, with a message on the screen, ‘Vic Chesnutt is one of Phil’s favourites.’

With an hour to go before arriving at John’s, Jackie dragged herself from her slumber‐like state. “Beatrice…” the music volume decreased, “Where are we at with Senator Mee, Cedric and all that stuff?”. When John had delegated Jessie to be with Jackie at all times, she had filled Jessie in on all the detail.

“I’ve been waiting for the appropriate time to update you. There has been nothing pressing, but I have some information of interest.”

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“How so?”

Beatrice was on the large dash screen, in her favourite green dress. “The Today show, along with morning news on the other networks and radio stations across the country have encouraged call‐ins, collecting opinions and views. I have monitored them all and investigated every negative caller since the networks picked up the story.”

“You haven’t been doing anything naughty, have you Beatrice?”

“That is totally dependent upon who you are”, she laughed. “You may be interested to know…”

“Go on, I am”, Jackie said a little impatiently.

Beatrice continued. “I removed from the data all callers whose child or children I have been speaking with. There were forty‐eight remaining. The really intriguing part about those is this…, only eleven have children.”

“And the other…. thirty‐six claimed they did?”, asked Jackie.

“Thirty‐seven, Beatrice corrected. All but eight claimed they did. Those twenty‐nine callers didn’t confirm either way as to whether they had children or not, but the inference that they did was there. My intuition algorithm suggests that was intentional. I detected a hint of nervousness in their voices. Different to the normal nervousness of speaking on air. There were phrases common to all twenty‐nine callers, as if they were coached in what to say. I believe they were lying about everything, not just whether they had children or not, but their opinion. I don’t believe they felt any passion either way. I have found evidence they were under instructions.”

“And how did you come by this evidence?”, Jackie asked, feigning concern that Beatrice was breaking privacy laws.

“You humans leave such easy trails to follow. Cell phone security is very porous.”

“I assume you are much better than us humans at not leaving any trace of your snooping?”, Jackie asked, knowing Beatrice was the ultimate cyber sleuth.

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“Well, what else do you have?”

This was the part Beatrice was waiting for. “I have a cell number common to twenty‐ two of the call‐ins. They all received a call from one of three cell numbers, always on the evening prior to calling the media service.”

“You are going to tell me the number in question belongs to Cedric Horton?” Jackie asked, confident she was correct.

“They are ‘burner’ phones. I cannot determine who is using them.”

“Another dead end?”, Jackie asked, beginning to feel deflated.

“Not a dead end, not yet”, Beatrice said encouragingly. “If any of the burner phones are turned on, I will locate it. I will also follow who it calls. Importantly, it suggests to us that someone is building a campaign against us.”

“We already knew that when Senator Mee childishly threw his weight around. But it will be good if you can locate where the calls are coming from. I suspect he has one of his lackies playing his dirty tricks for him.”

Beatrice didn’t agree with Jackie’s assumption it was Senator Mee, telling her it didn’t fit his profile. He was more of a big statement kind of thug, whereas this was part of a strategy intended to be played out over time. Beatrice told Jackie it was more likely someone within Thetaco or closely associated with the company.

“We need whoever it is to use the phone again, so we can find out”, concluded Jackie, wanting to return to her meditation. “Can you play me some more beautiful music, please. Something different, peaceful.”

Beatrice played one of her friend David’s favourite pieces, Saint‐Saëns’ Clarinet Sonata by the Nash Ensemble.

Jackie relaxed and the miles swept by. The trees became a blur of green as she closed her eyes. Drifting away with the music she thought It had been warmer today. She had felt the beginnings of spring arriving. She glanced at the dash and noted the outside temperature was hovering just above fifty degrees. Her thoughts returned to the weather of a week ago. “It had been a horrible March”, she said to herself. Nor’easters had brought heavy snow dumps and freezing days, but now it

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Chapter 37 Revelations was April and in between the occasional days of snow were days where the mercury edged that little bit higher than the previous warmer day.

Jackie began to contemplate about Phil and his beliefs and passion. Every time she did there were yet more discoveries to be made. She started once again with his belief that competition was the cornerstone of mankind’s woes.

Over the past month it had been sinking into her understanding more and more. Her clients were a diverse mix. There was David, who was teaching Beatrice to sing. There were others like David, their lives leisurely and unhurried. Many of these had previously led frantic lifestyles, multitasking, numerous responsibilities and interfacing with many people. Back then, they would call on her fortnightly for help, sometimes weekly with the occasional distressed phone call in between. They were the clients who she now saw monthly, sometimes only a few times a year. They had reduced competition in their lives. Some had downsized and shed materialism, others had moved out of the city, into the semi‐rural areas surrounding Boston. Occasionally she would talk to ex‐clients who were no longer officially on her books. They were living a truly country life, far from the cities. There would be the occasional skype, just to say ‘Hi’ and to thank her for the years of guidance and comfort she had afforded them.

Yes, Phil definitely had it all worked out, Jackie thought. She continued exploring the clients who were most difficult, who challenged her, competed with her. They needed the most help. Nearly all of them were younger than her, caught up in that end of society where the tall buildings, big houses, the esteemed education, large personal bank accounts and the demanding career paths dominated. Many were chasing that next house, the next step up in their jobs, the next big deal or the ‘better’, younger wife. Occasionally there was the wife who was being replaced. They were her clients because they needed support, validation and always her assurances and settling influence. They all suffered from emotional neglect to some degree, but found it almost impossible to follow her guidance for self‐healing. They couldn’t do it alone, they wanted her to do it all for them. She could see it now.

People were entrenched in a lifestyle where competition surrounded them. In their house, on their desk, through their cell phone and in every interaction, liaison and meeting. They had no time for their souls. Their soul, an artefact from that valley in Africa at a time when competition was still millions of years away, was very much on the sidelines watching them compete. Their soul only contributed when things 763

Chapter 37 Revelations fell apart or during those moments when their conscience snuck in and pointed the finger at questionable behaviour, creating a bit of guilt. The conscious mind viewed this contribution as negative, a yoke around the neck and superfluous to requirements. The soul was pushed away. These clients needed to take holidays, remove themselves from the city and its incessant white noise of competition. They went to islands and sat on beaches or to mountain hideaways where the cell signal couldn’t reach. It was only then could they experience the calming and gentle euphoria of their soul. But it was temporary, a ritual tonic that was always short‐ lived. The true message of the soul was rarely deciphered.

Jackie could see Phil’s big picture more clearly. In the cities the frequency of competition for most people was high, almost continuous, when compared to country life. The heat of competition also reached greater temperatures and those exceedingly hot ones came more regularly. Jackie thought about the process of buying a house. One of those stressful events that had become a regular feature of her many conversations with clients. Why was it stressful? Was it fear of not having the house that would make them feel good about who they were? She realised she had never pursued questions deeper than “What are you afraid of?” and rarely received an answer more insightful than “they won’t accept my offer” or “the vendor looks like favouring another buyer”. People couldn’t access the real source of their fears. Phil had opened her eyes to thinking about all these things in terms of competition. They were a source of self‐gratification to fill that emptiness where the soul should reside.

Jackie started thinking about the house issue for the opportunities of self‐ gratification it provided. There was the search for the perfect house. Deciding on which suburb was best. Sometimes it was just about practicalities but for many it was status, and that alone fed into the perception of one’s own self‐worth. Looking at house after house always required a visit to soak in the feeling. She had heard people say “I knew it was the right one as soon as I stepped through the door, it just felt right”. Was that the need to feel good making the decision for them? Why was it important a house made a person feel good?

Jackie tried to imagine if it would be any different if a person knew they were a good person. Asking those questions Phil so often repeated would be unnecessary. No longer would they need a house to make them feel good, to help them believe they were actually good. It certainly made sense. Rational thinking would say a

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Chapter 37 Revelations house can’t make a person feel good unless they are searching for that feeling. She realised she had been too busy for weeks to have had the time to let Phil and Heathers words actually start to mean more than just broad stroke concepts. Maybe she had taken to them well enough to make further thinking feel irrelevant?

Jackie dug deeper this time. She still had many miles to go, time to kill. She let her mind climb further into the process of buying a house. She encouraged herself to not just see, but to feel the competitive driver working in unison with that saying Phil used so often. That power, fame, glory thing. Once a person found the house that made them ‘feel good’, there was competition to win the right to purchase. Then there was the choice of price they were willing to pay. Jackie thought about this part of the process, questioning if the price was always governed by availability of money or was it actually a line drawn in the sand simply to create a competition. Did they unknowingly crave the opportunity to immerse themselves in the thrill of competing? Was it the ego wanting to be fed? Did the promise of a feast for the ego urge them on to victory?

She wondered how many times people denied themselves the house of their dreams because winning the battles was more important. With an offer rejected, they refused to pay that little bit more. Why? If it was an ego driven line in the sand, what made them stay with it. Was it a feeling of power? Did they feel powerful in not succumbing to the sellers demands for more money. Could they foretell the feeling of winning the vendor would experience if they acquiesced to their demands and their own ego couldn’t allow that? Whilst being tempted to agree to the seller’s demands, they imagined the seller’s feelings as they basked in victory. They would be gripped by fear at the thought of the seller’s feelings overshadowing their own. The seller would have stolen the feelings they so dearly sought. They would defy the temptation to throw a bit more money into the purchase, preferring to protect their ego from pain. They choose to condemn themselves to forfeiting the dream house in preference to coming a distant second. If they paid the extra and won the house, any sense of victory they could conjure would be a very hollow victory at best and the house would never ‘feel right’ again. With the house lost, their egos are pacified. They tell themselves, “it just wasn’t the right house for me”. Jackie laughed as she thought, “How quickly the frame of reference is changed by their ego”.

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She found it so very interesting when it was so irritatingly simple on the face of it. When they refused to pay more and chose to walk away, their ego would need fortifying. They support themselves with comments such as, ‘they won’t receive a better offer’ or ‘they were too greedy, it isn’t worth that much’. Phil would call that creating denial truths. Phil would say winning the price negotiation and buying the house was the only acceptable win. He would also say, buying the house for a price above the line in the sand was still a win, but to the ego it was a loss. The seller had won. He would also say there was plenty of opportunities in the whole process to prevent feeling the loss by creating denial truths to convince the ego it may not have won, but it didn’t lose either. ‘We live to fight another day’ was the saying Jackie had heard more than once during sessions. Now that Jackie was thinking deeper about the processes, the need to feel good, to pump up that self‐worth began to present as the only feasible motivations. Until Phil had shared his deeply thought out views, she would never have known the deep motivation for all this observed behaviour came from the stupendous upset and emptiness her clients were experiencing. She would never have known it was caused by the corrupted relationship between conscious mind and soul and the inevitable banishment of the soul. She would never have known just how brutal the denial of the ideal world’s existence was to mankind. “Knowing all this has definitely made assisting clients far easier”, she thought.

Jackie made a resolution. Heather was going to teach her how to assist people to pull their souls back into their conscious minds. “If I could just bring their estranged soul back for five minutes in each session”, she said aloud.

Jackie thought about the clients who had moved to rural areas to escape the city. City prices were multiples higher than country prices. The magnitudes of each and every component of competition in the property process was amplified. Additionally, city people were driven to change houses more regularly than country folk. It couldn’t all be down to more children. Were the children just a catalyst to satisfy something else? Was it about that search for another boost to feeling good and inflating self‐worth? Yes, Phil was right, cities may be enduring edifices of mankind’s incredible abilities, their learned skills and innate ingenuity. But they were destroying mankind with every new generation. Mankind was totally oblivious to this. Jackie always thought the reason more psychologists worked in cities was simply because of more people. But there was more to it than just demographics. Cities cleaved mankind away from his soul, starved him of nourishment, soaking up

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Chapter 37 Revelations his brain space with a self‐defeating search for whatever he could find to make himself feel good, to stuff his ego with win after win after win.

New York entered Jackie’s thoughts. A wondrous city where every visit gave her something to cherish. It began to dawn on her what it was all about. It was an inescapable fact that New Yorkers loved their city. “But do New Yorkers love each other?”, she asked herself. “Definitely not”, she decided. They appreciate each other, sometimes begrudgingly, but they don’t extend to each other anything approaching selfless love. People from every corner of the planet are attracted to New York. It gave them an inexhaustible array of opportunities to compete and to excel. People can live lives where rewards for winning are many. Where the trappings and excesses to fill that void Phil so often proclaimed, were aplenty. They rarely engaged their souls because to do so would be to weaken. Winning is strength and only the strongest survive. There was no community in New York, just a whole bunch of pride for a city that gives them anonymity. A city where people driven to compete find acceptance. When they see their reflections in the glass doors of their favourite restaurants or the blackened window of a passing limo, they rarely see that person driven by the pain of loss. They don’t see that person who must compete to win, then compete again. That’s what New York does for them, it allows them to feel right at home. They live carefully crafted versions of themselves, showcasing skills and abilities in pursuance of achievements and wealth. Not all can fulfil their dreams of success and stardom in their chosen fields. Many just get by. Each day they are unceasingly motivated by the belief they were another day closer to their number being called, their turn to realise their dreams. “Yes” she thought, “People in cities don’t love each other. What they really love is the myriad of opportunities all those thousands and millions of people provide for each other.” She wondered if a person walking along Fifth Avenue, amongst the throng of wide‐ eyed sightseers and dedicated shoppers, would ever consider approaching a stranger to thank them for just being there.

“I was right”, she said quietly to herself, inaudible above the music. “The cities have many more damaged people…, and most of them are unaware they are.” Jackie thought it was quite amazing. She spoke a little louder this time, “They do what they do each day, but in reality, they simply have no clue why they are there.”

She glimpsed at the dash screen and noticed Saint‐Saëns had rolled over into Brahms. Another clarinet sonata with Karl Leister leading the way on his clarinet.

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Jackie continued letting her thoughts be guided by her subconscious. As she did, the past week floated away, bit by bit. Previously she had found many spare hours dotted throughout her life to do exactly what she was doing now. But they had all but disappeared a few weeks after meeting John. Jesse was giving her a rare opportunity and she wanted to take it. She was letting go and falling deeper into her thoughts. She started with mankind’s search for self‐worth and an answer to the question of whether he was fundamentally a good person. She thought about the many metrics her clients used to self‐assess their progress. Jackie suddenly realized they were indirectly assessing themselves in terms of that question. After all, the objectives and goals they had set in previous sessions were ultimately aimed at feeling good about themselves. So many of her clients had low self‐worth. Jackie always knew her clients were deceiving themselves, but it had served a purpose during the sessions. They created their own metrics, borrowed from friends or grabbed one from a movie, customised it to suit their needs then applied it as faithfully as their conscious minds allowed. Jackie hadn’t thought about it before, but just then she realised her client’s conscious mind, the culprit for their banished soul, was also self‐assessing. Not only that, it was deciding on which metric it would like to use. Of course, their conscious mind was going to applaud itself, telling them they were a good person and they were worthy. When given the chance to shine, it was highly unlikely it would condemn itself. They were in denial. Jackie almost became overwhelmed with the revelation. There were times during a client’s appointment when it hadn’t felt correct. When it was more obvious the client was using the technique to justify themselves. On those few occasions she had attempted to reveal this to her client. But they had argued with her. They had competed hard to keep their metrics and to continue their flawless self‐assessment using their flawed metric. Jackie began to visualise the power of the conscious mind to keep itself safe. “Denial was such a powerful tool”, she thought. Rarely had she succeeded in unveiling a person’s denial to themselves. Sure, some would listen and agree, but they would continue unabated with their denial. Was this the big denial Phil had spoken about? Denial of the corruption of their soul and denial of the ideal world. Jackie started to believe it just could be, chiding herself for taking so long to see. She started to feel guilty at ever having doubted that ‘Odd bloke from Downunder’, as John had once affectionately described him.

John often collected passages from articles on the internet, magazines and books, reading them to Jackie as she was falling into sleep. One of those passages, from a book, came back to her. He had read from Plato about caves and light and people

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Chapter 37 Revelations being blinded. There had been familiarity in the words as John’s voice coaxed her eyes to close. She had remembered reading the same book many years ago, before undertaking her PhD. Sitting there, gently swaying with the motion of the car, that same book again entered her thoughts. She couldn’t force her clients from their cave, holding their eyes open until accustomed to what they should see. All she ended up doing was taking their hand for the duration, soothing them week by week until age allowed them glimpses of the light, they should have been seeing all their lives. She shook her head. It really was too late then. Their children were already following the same path, with even greater vigour. Yes, that was the cycle of life. Phil had told them about it on that first day in the barn. Children forced to abandon their souls by the competitive adult world. They would live their lives punishing their soul, pushing it deeper into seclusion whilst despairingly searching for it at the same time. They would walk around in the dim light of the unloving world where winning was paramount. Finally, they reached their twilight years when regrets began to grow. Some enjoyed a partial reconciliation with their soul, but most didn’t. Some even tried to make amends for their life through their grandchildren. Attempting to pass on knowledge and understanding. But the necessary clarity was absent. They passed on sentiment only. Phil had explained all this and so much more over the short time Jackie had come to know him. “Phil, oh Phil”, she pleaded in her thoughts, “How can you help them to see the precious light, the truthful light. To see it many years earlier, if not for them, then for their children.”

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake

Jackie arrived at John’s house late in the afternoon. The boys had already departed for Syracuse, leaving only Heather and John to greet her. A few minutes later, Heather retreated to the barn to give John time with Jackie. All week she had watched John yearning for Jackie’s company, he had been more downcast than usual.

The timid warmth of the day had disappeared and the chill was back in the air, but the sun was yet to vanish. With Patsy leading the way, John and Jackie walked down to the boatshed and onto the dock. They quietly sat together watching the breeze gently buffeting the last of the ice. “It will all be gone tomorrow”, he said to Jackie. He was going to miss the winter.

John fetched two bourbons from the boathouse. Jackie had become accustomed to drinking bourbon since meeting John. She had started to taste it as Jessie negotiated the final few curves of the potholed lane. It was an almost perfect end to the week. She could feel all those demands for her time slip away as the warmth of the bourbon flowed through her body. It had been a big week, she reminisced. Now she was in John’s world, she could reconnect with her soul, forget for the past few days and let her soul come out of its enforced hibernation.

That evening, Jackie had fallen asleep early, but John remained restless. He peeked at the clock. It was just after midnight. Heather was in her treehouse and like Jackie, was well into her deep sleep. In the second treehouse, Jessie was also asleep but his two fellow security team, Chuck and Lew were still some time off calling it a night. They had not long been relieved of their posts covering the barns up on the ridge and John’s house.

Following the Senator Mee incident, John had increased security, adding five more of Tosh’s mix of mercenary buddies and recent discharges from the country’s armed forces. Tosh, along with Hector, a Latino from Las Cruces just north of El Paso and Ruan, a South African from Hoedspruit in Limpopo province, had responsibility for the house and barns. They had the graveyard shift and were out in the chilly night. Hector was charged with watching over the main house whilst Ruan was covering the barns up on the ridge.

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At Thomas and Adel’s end of the property, Smitty and Jones were keeping watch. John had engaged the treehouse contractors to build out a portion of the barn where Shadow had once called home. It was small, but enough for three guys to bunk down. Generally, only one person slept at any particular time. There was a bathroom with toilet and a small communal room. With Adel close by, there was no need for a kitchen.

Whilst Smitty and Jones patrolled Thomas’s barns, Pedro was asleep back in the bunkhouse. There were only a few hours remaining before he would relieve Jones. For now, he was half way through his favourite recurring dream. So too was Digby, on the floor beside him. He was making the occasional noise puppies tend to do. Every few minutes his heard would jerk a little, momentarily waking him.

It was at this time, the night of the new moon, that two inflatable assault boats were nearing the end of their patient crossing from the other side of the lake. Eight men in two teams, all dressed in black and wearing night vision had kept the engines silent as they paddled quietly for the past thirty minutes. They had successfully negotiated the largest of the remaining ice floes. With a short distance remaining, Alpha Team peeled away and continued west across John’s cove, nearly two hundred feet from the dock. Bravo Team made shore above the cove. They carried their boat a short way up the grassy bank, rotating it as they did. They were outside of John’s property and a few hundred feet from John’s closest neighbour. A small cottage occupied for only a few weeks during the summer.

Alpha Team made shore fifteen minutes later. They had time to kill whilst Bravo Team carried out their delegated tasks. They too carried the boat just out of the water, rotating it in readiness. They had come ashore just west of John’s boathouse cove, landing on the last piece of solid ground before the lake entered the marshlands. By skirting along the edge of the marsh they would arrive at John’s computer barn. It was a somewhat difficult path they had chosen.

John had played along the marshes edge as a boy. Hiding amongst the tall grasses bordering the dark water of the marshes. His mother would call him. John would move amongst the dense grasses, unseen by his mother. She dared not try to follow him into the marsh, it was difficult to see where the solid ground gave way to boggy marsh. His mother would play along, calling him and looking for his head bobbing up above the grass. John would stay hidden, always trying to move closer to his

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake mother without being detected. The game mostly finished when he sensed his mother’s enthusiasm was waning.

In the briefing a few hours earlier, both Alpha and Bravo teams had been instructed to stay away from the cove with the boathouse, suspecting the area was monitored by cameras. A zero‐harm policy had been ordered and their objective was delivered, “Create a temporary presence, exert control and expose their vulnerability”. At the end of the briefing, Alpha Team leader further briefed his team on the additional objective he had been instructed to perform. “Find the server and return with it intact”.

Bravo Team negotiated the thick shrubs and small trees bordering the narrow lane into John’s property. Crossing the lane, they fought their way through the thicker growth on the other side before proceeding to higher ground. They joined the path bordering John’s property, a hiking trail into the Wilderness Area. A short distance later all four men left the path and entered John’s property. Two men headed towards the main house to take up a position on the ridge overlooking the house. The other two continued along the ridge towards the treehouses, breaking into a jog once out of earshot of the house.

Over on the other side of John’s property, Alpha Team, Bravo Team were silently negotiating the tall grass and occasional small shrubs along the edge of the marsh. The computer barn was their target. Once in position they hunkered down to wait for their signal. It would be some time before the two from Bravo Team returned from the treehouses. Until then, there was work to do.

The two men from Bravo Team perched on the ridge near the main house were surveying the area. They could see over the top of the single storey extension where Heather presented her African dress to the Thanksgiving gathering. Five minutes passed without any activity to report. Their blind spot was the porch running around the front of the house. The door of John’s computer barn was only just visible, as was that half of the barn closest to the lake. They needed more vision. At the briefing they had been told to expect light security, but there was no one to be seen.

One man remained whilst the Bravo leader searched for a better vantage point. He moved south west along the ridge to reconnoitre the region away from the house. He moved behind the first of the two smaller barns. The smallest one was still too

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake close to the house. He moved onto the larger of the two, where John garaged his car, snowmobiles and quad bikes. He kept to the rear to reduce the risk of being spotted. The region between the front of the barns and the edge of the ridge had yet to be secured. Although he considered a lookout was highly unlikely this far from the house, his instinct told him to proceed with caution. If he was patrolling the house, he would definitely have chosen the highest and most concealed position. That would be at the front of the larger barn. The view from there would encompass all of the distant computer barn and a large section of the porch. Neither sufficiently visible from his earlierl position.

He moved to just beyond the larger barn housing John’s car He blended himself into a shrub whilst he further assessed the area. He would need to move closer, most likely as close to the edge of the ridge as possible without being exposed. The night was still. He had to be extra vigilant of making any sound. He could hear the faint noises of an owl in the near distance. He was about to advance but out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark blur move from the lower branches of one tree to those of the neighbouring tree. A faint whoosh had accompanied the movement, it sounded close. A flying squirrel perhaps? He remained motionless and alert, listening until all was quiet.

The faint acrid smell of tobacco smoke reached his nostrils. He hadn’t heard a match or lighter so the source wasn’t nearby. He waited for the next waft of breeze. He assessed the strength and direction of the breeze as it carried more of the scent. He decided the source had to be at the front of the larger barn, possibly inside. He moved out of the shrub and backtracked until he could just make out the position where his colleague lay watching. He withdrew his compact flashlight and held his hand over the left side as he signalled three short flashes, calling his colleague to join him. He waited a minute then signalled another two times. He was about to signal again but the faintest of noises from ten feet away told him his colleague had joined him. He hadn’t seen him coming, even with the green goggles.

The Bravo Team leader, cupped his hands around his colleague’s ear and in a barely audible whisper, issued instructions. They approached the rear of the large barn without so much as a leaf crunching under foot. In single file they skirted the side of the barn to the front corner. This was the furthest point from the house. They were upwind of the tobacco smell, which was stronger now. The person with the cigarette couldn’t be more than thirty feet away.

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Bravo Team leader pulled a small mirror from a pocket on his right thigh and slowly extended the freshly waxed telescopic stick. Removing his night vision, he lowered himself gently to the ground. Keeping the mirror an inch above the ground he moved the mirror beyond the edge of the barn. He could see the sliding barn door was partially open. An arm appeared followed by the glow of falling cigarette ash. “We have a problem”, he said silently to himself. There wasn’t any approach path to the security guard. He was concealed inside the open doorway.

The security guard in the doorway couldn’t be approached without detection. He only needed to lean slightly forward for vision in either direction along the front of the barn. With no other entrances, he had chosen his position well. From that vantage spot he had a line of sight towards the door of the computer barn over six hundred feet away and down to the steps at the front of the house. If he had night vision, he would see anyone approaching either. Bravo Team leader had no option but to wait.

The two from Bravo Team who had earlier jogged along the ridge, arrived at the treehouses. The men intuitively separated, one to each of the treehouses. With the stealth gained from years of training and countless clandestine military operations, they moved silently across the bridges and within thirty seconds all the quad bikes were disabled. Completed, they headed back to their colleagues waiting and watching from the corner of the barn.

The four men of Bravo team had prepared well. They all carried encrypted trackers for locating each other. Bravo leader and his partner were joined seventeen minutes later by the two from the treehouses. Phase one, isolating the treehouse occupants was completed. The signal had been sent to Alpha Team. The two who returned from the treehouses were instructed to move to a position on the furthermost side of the house. First, they needed to backtrack to the earlier point of entry to John’s property. From there they were to descend the ridge to the rear of the house, using shrubs and trees as cover. They would approach the front of the house by tucking in close to the house. It would take them six minutes.

Twenty minutes prior to receiving the signal for completion of phase one, Alpha Team’s chief technical man had silently slipped free of the thicket at the edge of the marsh. He approached the south eastern corner of the computer barn, the corner furthest from the lake and out of view from the house. He had covered the sixty feet slowly, keeping low using the few shrubs and a tree as cover. Once at the barn, 774

Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake he removed his cold weather gloves to reveal thin latex gloves. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a small pump bottle of penetrating lubricant which he sprayed into the hinges and the gap around the enclosure cover. Gingerly at first, he pried open the electrical box cover without the slightest noise. Cupping his hand around his flashlight he scanned the internal contents thoroughly. The layout committed to memory he located the main power feed switch. It all appeared to be standard. “No hidden surprises”, he thought. Using a string, pre‐cut to a precise eight feet and four inches, he measured the distance from the edge of the barn, marking the spot with a short squirt of lubricant to the wood of the barn wall. From his backpack he removed small rolls of Semtex and began to shape the Semtex, attaching it to the barn a roll at a time. The barn plans he had studied at the briefing told him where the centre of the server room should be. He hoped the servers were not located against the wall, only inches from the Semtex. He placed the detonator pins in the Semtex as he had countless times in the past, connected one end of the wires to the detonators and the other end to the battery powered remote triggering device. Completed, he had signalled with his flashlight he was ready, then moved away from the side of the barn and concealed himself in the long grass to await the signal from Alpha Team leader. He was prepared for a wait of twenty minutes, maybe longer if Bravo Team struck trouble. Alpha leader received the signal from his technician that the barn was ready and he too knew it would be a considerable wait. Ten minutes later, Bravo Team signalled phase one completion. Now they waited for completion of phase two, securing the ridge. Nothing would commence until phase three, securing the house, was completed.

Back up on the ridge, Bravo Team leader was watching the security guard in the doorway of the barn. He had finished his cigarette, throwing the butt a few feet in front of him. He stepped out from the barn, placed his foot on the butt and extinguished it. It was Ruan who was patrolling the ridge. He spoke into the microphone of his headset, “All clear at the garage, checking the other”. He turned and headed towards the smaller barn. Bravo leader, was expecting Ruan to return to his vantage point in the doorway. On a cold night like it was, he would want to return if it was him doing the patrol. He instructed his partner to take up a position inside the barn.

Ruan had his routine. He stood in the doorway for about fifteen minutes. He would reward himself with a cigarette before taking the walk to the house. Upon returning to the open door he would reward himself again with another cigarette. Then he

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake would restart his routine with another fifteen‐minute watch. He figured he would smoke sixteen cigarettes per shift. He liked to count the remaining cigarettes at the end of the shift, see how well he had maintained his routine.

Ruan headed towards the smaller barn, tracked by Bravo leader along the rear of the larger barn. Bravo Leader observed Ruan walking the open ground between the two barns. He watched and waited. Ruan walked past the small barn and towards the house, looking down to survey along the side of the house. He checked the bridge to the upper storey of the original house. He crossed the bridge and checked the door. It was locked. This was his fourth week patrolling the ridge and everything looked as it had on any of the other nights. He retraced his path between the two barns, listened to the owls in the distance, stopping momentarily to look across to the computer barn. He had seen enough. Everything was as it should be. He was relaxed. He checked his watch and noted a little over five hours remained before he would be relieved. He felt a breath of chilled air and resumed his walk to the relative warmth of his favoured spot, tucked inside the partially open doorway.

Ruan passed Bravo Leader by only a few feet. Bravo leader was in the shadows between the side of the barn and a nearby shrub. He was a mere second from pouncing as Ruan passed. He held back and decided to follow him to the doorway instead. Safer that way, his partner would assist. He fell in behind Ruan as he covered the final twenty feet to the open doorway, hoping Ruan wouldn’t deviate and turn around. With ten feet to go, Ruan stopped. He wanted his reward earlier this time. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. Bravo Leader was motionless, resorting to soft breathing. He was close enough for Ruan to hear his breath if he didn’t. He had made sure he stayed far enough behind for Ruan to not feel his body heat in the gentle breeze.

Cigarette lit, Ruan continued. He stepped into the doorway and turned to assume his lookout position. In that instance, a hand came from behind to cover his mouth and an arm wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. He was stunned by the suddenness and unable to react as quickly as he expected he should. Bravo leader was within inches of Ruan’s face, swiftly and silently relieving him of his headset with his left hand and simultaneously pressing a syringe gun to his neck with his right hand. The needle shot sufficient ketamine and sodium thiopental to begin relaxing Ruan’s muscles within seconds. Half a minute later Ruan, had ceased struggling and his body was limp.

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They would only have a few minutes before the drugs would begin to release their grip. Bravo leader and his partner moved him away from the doorway, lay him on the floor, cable tied his hands and legs, checked his breathing through his nose then taped his mouth. Remembering the zero‐harm policy, the team leader hoped he hadn’t overdone the dose, expecting he would be ok soon enough. They dragged him to the rear of the barn and secured him to part of the structure. Forty‐five minutes had passed since first taking up their position at the rear of the house, it was time to break radio silence once more. With a short‐long‐short pushing of the press‐to‐talk button, Bravo leader signalled Alpha Team they had completed phase two, the ridge was secured.

Having neutralised Ruan, the Bravo Team leader and his partner moved from the barn down the ridge towards the front of the house, taking up a position behind a shrub about twenty feet from the stairs up to the house. They could see the front of the porch, it was clear. However, at the far end of the porch, some fifteen feet above the ground, where it wrapped around the old part of the house, they could see another security guard stationed.

Hector was standing in the darkest part of the porch, his eyes moving from computer barn to the porch at the front of the house. Every second scan, he would look to his right, running his eyes along the line of trees between the house and the lake. Although he had performed the same patrol for five nights straight, this being the sixth, Hector was conscientious. He knew it would only take a lapse of a few seconds and he would lose the upper hand. His ears had healed since the IUD in Afghanistan, but he had learnt to not rely on them. He was unaware that below him, to his right, were the other half of Bravo Team. Unable .to reach him, they were watching him closely from the shadows.

Patsy had been lying on the floor next to John when she heard a faint but unfamiliar noise coming from the barn where John garaged his car. It was the faint sounds of Ruan being dragged along the floor that alerted Patsy. She squeezed through her dog flap on the door and onto the bridge connecting the house to the ridge. She was quickly at the barn and curious to find what she had heard. At the open door of the barn she picked up the scent of the intruders and following it down the ridge. She was about twenty feet from Bravo leader and his partner when she started barking.

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Hector responded immediately, he ran forward, almost slipping as he negotiated the left right, of the L‐section of the porch. He headed directly to the end of the porch he had been watching. He slowed as he approached the chairs John and Phil had sat on that first day when they met. His night vision scope was over his left eye, he could just make out the outline of one of the intruders behind the bush. Patsy was out of sight but her barking confirmed their position. He spoke quietly but firmly into his microphone, “Intruder at the house, possibly more”. He hesitated not a second longer, raising his rifle and squeezing off two rounds. He had aimed high and to the side, hoping to flush them out.

The other half of Bravo Team were not far away. They had been just below Hector before Patsy started barking, following Hector at ground level until they were once again to his right. Ten feet below him. One of them raised his rifle, snapping of a round. The bullet hit with an unearthly thud, ripping a hole through Hector’s shoulder, dropping him to the deck. He didn’t know what happened, his rush of adrenaline numbed what would have been searing pain. Fortunately for Hector, the deck was now between him and the shooter. The bullet had entered his body just under his raised right arm and exited through his right collar bone, shattering it as it did. Bone fragments followed the bullet and entered his right eye as the bullet grazed his brow above the eye. Blood was streaming from his brow and stinging his eyes. Having no knowledge of the shot having come from below and to his side, he rolled over, placing the barrel of his weapon between two balusters, resting it on the bottom rail, squeezing off rounds intermittently at the intruder behind the shrub. His vision was compromised and he doubted he could change the magazine once emptied. All Hector could do was squeeze his trigger every ten seconds, hoping he had enough shells to pin down whoever was out there, at least until help arrived.

When Alpha leader had received the signal from Bravo leader, he remained in position waiting for the next signal to report the house had been secured. Hector’s gunshots coming from the house on the other side of the computer barn changed his plans. He signalled to his chief technician to return to the electrical box and proceed. His man flipped the main switch and quickly moved around the corner of the barn to detonate the explosives. The noise was thunderous, timber flew into the air, falling just short of the other three crouched in the long grass. The once beautifully restored timber side of the barn now had a gaping hole. The contents of the computer room were thrown against the walls, damaging some and destroying

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake others. After pressing the button, the man followed his instructions and headed towards the front corner of the barn, closer to the house. His brief was to take up a position looking along the side of the barn which faced the house to secure the main entrance door to the barn, preventing anyone attempting to enter or leave.

When the main power switch had been thrown, reserve power came from a bank of batteries housed in a purpose‐built cellar below the floor of the barn. An uninterruptible power supply with sufficient power for five hours, providing no one used the kettle. The reserve modem router, hidden in the kitchen, kicked in instantly when the main router was dislodged and damaged by the blast. The optical fibre feed to the reserve router was unaffected by the blast, entering from the opposite side of the barn to the mains power. It had been connected to the house before the barn was converted, the optical extension to the barn was under the grass between the house and barn.

Beatrice wasn’t going to abandon her friends that easily. She immediately called John, Jackie, Heather, Thomas and the sleeping security guards. Simultaneously she told John, Jackie and Heather to stay put, hide if they could. Jessie, Chuck and Lew, in the treehouse were woken and set in motion. Likewise, Thomas and Pedro were woken and informed of the intruders at the house. Smitty and Jones were advised to stay put, search for possible intruders also mounting an attack on the farm, particularly the generators.

With the power gone, so was Beatrice’s eyes. All the cameras external to the barn were without power. She immediately powered up John’s Citroen and Jackie’s Tesla, remotely opening the door where Ruan had been standing. With both cars operational she had both mobility and vision. She drove the Citroen to the edge of the ridge to assess the situation. She could see one intruder crouched at the corner of the computer barn and two more behind the shrubs, not far from the steps to the house. Through her rear facing cameras on the Citroen, she spotted Ruan tied to the post at the rear of the barn. There was nothing she could do. Jackie and John became her priority and to protect them she needed Jessie. Beatrice was unaware the quad bikes were disable. She did assume the intruders would have accounted for the treehouses in their planning. Immobilising the quad bikes would be the most likely action taken.

Jessie came back to Beatrice, telling her he was on foot heading towards Jackie along the ridge. She reversed along the narrow path on the ridge expecting to see 779

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Jessie heading towards her from the treehouse. She stopped when the path turned towards the Wilderness area. The Citroen was nearly halfway between the treehouses and the house ready to transport Jessie to collect Jackie, all she could do was wait.

Hector was still shooting but his aim was severely compromised and he had only a handful of rounds remaining. He had no way of knowing what was happening. He was however, keeping Bravo leader and his partner pinned down in the vicinity of the shrubs to the front and left of the house, surrounding the rainwater tank. The intruder who had shot Hector, along with his accomplice, were heading across the grass, in the direction of the trees between the house and the lake. They needed to gain a line of sight on Hector by moving further away from the house. Beatrice watched these two from Jackie’s Tesla which was parked on the lawn, only a short walking distance from the steps to the front of the house.

Beatrice believed the two on the grass had completed their mission and were retreating. Then she saw movement telling her something very different. One of the men kept turning and looking through the sights on his weapon. The man who had first shot Hector was now a hundred feet away from Hector. He lifted his night vision and again looked through his scope, he could see the top of Hector’s head between two balusters, but wanted to see more to be sure of his shot. When Beatrice observed him holding his rifle scope to his eye and walking backwards, she instantly assessed his intentions. The Tesla, renowned for its comfort and ride, was also a class leader for acceleration and quietness. Beatrice pumped every bit of battery power into the four electric motors and headed straight for the man who was lining up to shoot Hector. She could see he was going to win, he only had to squeeze his trigger. With fifteen feet to go she turned on the headlights, maximum brightness, flooding the night vision scope on his rifle and hoping to blind the shooter. She braced for impact, hitting him front on. Beatrice heard the cracking of his pelvis through the cabin microphone. The impact threw him into his colleague, pinning him to the ground. Beatrice couldn’t see Hector through her rear camera, but she could hear his rifle had gone silent. The shooter had fired off the shot as Beatrice turned on the lights. Hector’s rifle had fallen silent with three shells remaining. Bravo leader emerged from his position behind the shrub and ran towards his fallen colleagues, shooting the rear tyres out on Jackie’s car. A few more steps and he shot the front tyre out before helping the man who had shot Hector.

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He was in extreme pain and unable to lift himself to his feet. The man beneath him had broken his elbow.

When Beatrice sent her initial distress calls a chain of events were set in motion. Jessie had scrambled to the quad bike in less than a minute but it wouldn’t start. He yelled the news to Chuck and Lew, but the information was not required, they had already departed. He informed Beatrice he was heading towards the house on foot.

Chuck and Lew were in the treehouse with Jesse, sitting outside on the narrow balcony. Lew was smoking his favourite Chesterfields and both were sharing a bottle of Tequila. They had heard the explosion and were ready for action within twenty seconds. They headed towards the firemen’s pole, but instead of taking the sixty‐foot drop to the sloping ground below, they unhitched two slings dangling from a steel cable attached to the topmost point of the treehouse. They already had their harnesses on when they received Beatrice’s emergency call and were heading to the action in the fastest possible way.

In a single motion, more fluid than an Olympic high jumper, Chuck donned his helmet, clicked his harness to the sling and leapt over the balcony railing. Lew counted to twenty then followed. Both had leapt into the cold dark night. John had installed a zip‐line for just such an emergency. Chuck soared through the air, high above the forest floor below, quickly reaching a top speed of fifty miles an hour as he raced past trees either side, barely missing the tips of the branches. It wasn’t a long zip‐line, only fifteen hundred feet, but the initial fall was steep. It was only thirty seconds from start to finish, but for Chuck and Lew, it was thirty seconds of extreme adrenaline rush. Twenty‐two trees had been felled to create the path. Chuck had practised a dozen times already, so when he saw the two red lights, he pulled the cord turning the brake on. From that point he had sixty feet within which he had to come to a stop. He had timed it perfectly, with a pull of the quick release pin he unhitched himself and ran the 34 feet to the old disused logger’s cabin, pressing the remote in his pocket as he did. The automatic doors swung open. A recent addition, designed to look anything but new. By this stage Lew was only seconds behind him. Beatrice was triggered into action as the doors opened. She started the engine and exited the log cabin. Chuck, still wearing his harness, leapt onto the quad bike as it passed the doorway, pausing for a second or two as Lew jumped on behind him and in quickly threaded his hands and arms into Chuck’s

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Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake harness. It was going to be a rough ride. Chuck twisted the throttle fully open in anger and the quad bike catapulted down the short slope and onto the trail towards the barn. The quickest they had reached the computer barn on one of many practise runs was three seconds shy of one minute.

Over the preceding two months, Hamish had converted Lopez from a fruit picker into a gunner. Chuck and Lew were riding a high spec racing quad bike, modified with a front tray and extended seat for a pillion passenger. On the tray was Lopez’s arm with an M60 machine gun attached. Tosh had ‘come across’ the gun and had suggested to Thomas he mount it on a vehicle. At the time, Hamish was trialling Lopez nearby and the idea of combining the two was born. Ammunition boxes flanked either side of the M60. There were four forward facing cameras for Beatrice’s and two to the rear. Under the pillion seat was Beatrice’s standalone computer. Although she could connect to her server, it was not necessary to do so. It was her own design, an evolution of her computer in John’s Citroen. John had insisted Beatrice could not fire the M60. That would permanently remain at the discretion of the pilot. However, Beatrice was responsible for target selection and aiming. A bullet proof screen rose from the rear of the tray to protect the rider from incoming projectiles, both from the enemy and the shells expelled from the M60 as it fired. On the driver’s side of the protective shield was a Samsung tablet crudely stuck to the shield by Hamish, showing the rider what Beatrice’s targeting had locked onto. Chuck had the firing button under his right thumb and wore a helmet enabling two‐way voice communication with Beatrice.

When Tosh had heard the crack of the rifle sending Hector to the deck, he was sitting in the shadows at the foot of the loft stairs. This was his command post. With a single laptop he would flick through each of Beatrice’s external cameras. It wasn’t perfect. John had installed cameras in the areas he frequented most. Where he would take guests to converse. There were no cameras up on the ridge, at the treehouses or around the barn. There were cameras at the single barn door and the nearby log bench seats where Phil and Thomas had sat to talk about the alien observers. The shutters on all the barn windows were security shutters designed to emulate period shutters. Only the walls were more impenetrable They were all closed and had been since Senator Mee had invaded John’s life that Friday a few weeks ago. The door was the only way into the barn and Tosh had that covered.

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With the resounding crack of that first rifle shot, Tosh leapt to his feet and advanced towards the door he was protecting. He was halfway across the barn when the power was cut. Instinctively, he ran towards the computer room. He was almost at the computer room door when it was blown across the barn, slamming into one of the heavy wooden workbenches. The blast had knocked Tosh to the floor. The Alpha Team leader had been the first to step through the cavernous hole in the barn wall and into the remains of the computer room. His purpose was to secure the room for the two behind him. They would search for the servers. The shelving that once held the servers, routers and other computer hardware was a tangled mess against the far wall. The computer equipment was strewn everywhere, some with casings ripped open. Alpha leader ignored the carnage and headed for the empty doorway.

When the intruder first came into view, Tosh was on his back. He was trying to clear his head, desperately swallowing to relieve the pressure in his ears. The blast had burst one of his eardrums. He looked at the intruder and the intruder stared back. Tosh watched as Alpha leader raised his weapon.

Tosh rolled three times towards his only cover, Hamish’s workbench. He crawled frantically over the last few feet as Alpha leader released a volley of bullets. Tosh had scrambled under the bench just in time but had left his assault rifle behind. He clutched for his pistol and fired a few rounds in the vicinity of the computer room, forcing the intruder to withdraw, back into the computer room. He crawled to the other end of the work bench and tried to stand, but his left leg gave way. He looked down and saw a fine spurt of blood coming from his boot. A bullet had penetrated the sole of his boot, exiting the top of his foot just near his ankle.

He hobbled towards the barn door and heard a bullet fizz past his head. He saw it splinter one of the hitching rails in front of him. He returned fire without looking. Reaching the door and his only escape, he turned and could see the intruder hadn’t moved from the computer room doorway. Tosh fired another four rounds but he was further away and his vision had been blurred by the blast. With his left hand he pushed against the door, it swung open to his left.

There was movement on the lawn, it looked like a car. He started to leave the barn but heard the sound of a bullet just missing him, slamming into the open door. He instinctively retreated back into the barn. He was pinned from behind and it now appeared, he was also pinned by a shooter on the outside. He looked back towards 783

Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake the computer doorway hoping they found what they came for and had departed. That was not to be. The intruder had moved closer and had his weapon at his shoulder. He was only thirty feet away. Tosh looked down and watched the tell‐tale red targeting beam rising up his leg. He followed it as it reached the centre of his vest. His eyes moved to meet his assailant’s eyes and they stared at each other. For Tosh, it seemed like an eternity. He believed he could feel the targeting beam move higher. He could sense it burning into the skin on his neck. His throat began to tighten. He felt frozen, unable to move. He knew if he flinched the intruder would have no alternative but to snap off a round or two. Tosh was very aware he was one squeeze of a trigger away from death.

Back in the computer room, the other two had found the servers, turned and headed for the hole in the wall. Six hundred feet away, Chuck and Lew exited the trees, spraying bullets towards the computer barn. Beatrice had spotted the Alpha Team technical man at the corner of the barn. He had his rifle aimed at the open barn door, waiting for Tosh to attempt his escape. Beatrice aimed with Chuck’s thumb still holding the firing button down hard. The man who had set the blast, cut the power and blew the hole in the barn ducked and turned to head back to where he had come from.

Alpha leader was only a fraction more pressure on his trigger finger away from defying the zero‐harm policy. The shot would be a kill shot, directly into Tosh’s throat. In that instance of hesitation, he recognised the distinctive sound of Beatrice’s M60. It had rapidly becoming louder. His own survival mode, responsibility for his colleagues and for the mission kicked in. Lowering his weapon, he turned and ran to the computer room to collect his men. To exit through the hole.

Whilst under fire and sending short bursts in return, the technical man scrambled to the rear corner of the barn. He arrived as the first of his colleagues clambered through the hole. Protected from Beatrice’s M60 by the barn, he helped him through and led the way into the marshes. Alpha Team leader was next through the hole, turning and helping the last man through the hole. His backpack, laden with servers, became momentarily caught on a jagged piece of timber.

Chuck could see movement on the lawn. He slowed to allow Lew to jump from the quad bike before pursuing the intruders at the rear of the barn. Lew headed towards the open lawn, the mix of Tequila and adrenaline made him feel 784

Chapter 38 The Other Side of the Lake unstoppable. Rounding the corner of the barn, he immediately came under fire. He was taken by surprise, falling to the ground, blood spewed freely from his wound. A bullet had ripped the side of his neck open, severing his carotid artery.

Chuck didn’t see Lew fall. He had already resumed his pursuit of the those retreating from the rear of the barn. He was still some sixty feet from the barn when he was able to see Alpha Team entering the long grass bordering the marsh. Beatrice aimed and Chuck fired as they disappeared into the long grass. One bullet penetrated the thigh of an intruder, dropping him to his knees. He was assisted to his feet by another, who was hit high up in the back by a bullet as he did so. Beatrice had aimed for his leg as well, but the lag between her aiming and Chuck’s firing ensured the bullet arrived as he reached down to lift his colleague. Fortunately, he was the man wearing the backpack containing two servers. He felt a thud, but was totally unaware how close he had come to being killed.

Having lost sight of Alpha Team and unable to pursue, Chuck turned his attention to the others. Lew lay motionless in a pool of blood as Chuck headed towards the lawn. Tosh, now free of the red targeting beam, was firing from the doorway of the barn at the retreating intruders. Chuck was shocked to see his good friend lying injured, pausing just long enough to believe he was dead. Enraged, he wound the throttle on and steered his quad bike straight towards the intruders, holding his thumb tightly on the firing button. He was determined to kill every last one of them. Beatrice, seeing the intruders were departing, aimed just above their heads. She spoke to Chuck at the same time, calming him down and urging him to return to Lew. She had only caught a glimpse of Lew as she approached him. She encouraged Chuck to let the intruders go and return to Lew, he may be able to assist him. Chuck ignored Beatrice, he wanted blood. Beatrice watched as the intruders disappeared into the trees and bushes. She kept repeating, “It’s over Chuck, It’s over”.

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Within minutes of the last rounds of Beatrice’s M60 whizzing past the intruders, boat engines could be heard. The sound was loud at first, but grew faint as those who had destroyed the innocence of John’s sanctuary disappeared into the night. They came from the other side of the lake and now that is where they had returned. It was nearly two in the morning.

Jessie was first to arrive at the house. He sprinted across the bridge and through the door with Patsy’s dog flap. His shoulder collected a door jam or two as he negotiated the twists and turns to reach John’s bedroom at the far end of the old Victorian house. He was gripped with fear when he couldn’t find John or Jackie. He didn’t know how many intruders there were, or if they had been in the house or not. Beatrice hadn’t reported any sighting of John or Jackie, so where could they be? Were they hiding or had they been taken? He ran down the stairs to check the doors. They were still locked. He checked the rooms, one by one, in almost complete darkness. Nothing. Returning to the upper floor, he searched each room, calling Jackie’s name over and over. He returned once again to John’s bedroom. The faint sounds of crying and groaning were coming from the large built‐in wardrobe.

Opening the doors, he found Jackie slumped to the floor, sitting on clothes and shoes and with John’s shirts and suits pulled down on top of her. Jessie frantically grabbed at the bundle of clothes and threw it behind him. Jackie was trembling, crying. John was cradled in her lap, emitting a low helpless groan. Jessie tried to lift John to his feet but he was unable to move, every joint seemed to be frozen. He bent down and wrapped his strong arms around John’s chest and half lifted, half dragged him from the wardrobe. Once out onto the open floor, he lay John on his side. The groaning continued unabated. He grabbed pillows to support John’s head and back, to prevent him rolling over. John was very cold, dangerously cold. Jessie snatched at the bed covers, dragging them onto his body. John attended to it was Jackie he turned to next. She was more compliant, assisting Jessie as he lifted her to her feet. She was dressed in only a night dress. Jessie found a gown and a coat, wrapping both around her. He sat her on the end of the bed, with John groaning at her feet. Jessie wrapped his arms around Jackie and gently pulled her head into his shoulder. He sat there rocking her and assuring her it was all over.

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Chuck was removing Tosh’s boot when Thomas arrived. Help was expected very soon. The emergency services had been called fifteen minutes earlier when Beatrice had first raised the alarm. He still had his headset on and he heard Beatrice’s voice. “Jessie is with John and Jackie, they are unharmed.”

“Thank God for that”, he exclaimed. “Anyone else?”

“No word from Ruan, he is still in the top barn. I believe Lew and Hector have died.”

“I saw Lew, where’s Hector?”, Thomas asked.

“On the porch, by the main door.”

Thomas ran to Hector, but with a few steps to go he could see the blood glistening in the beam of his flashlight. Blood was everywhere. Over the balustrades, the chair closeby and pools of it on the floor. Thomas could see where it was dripping through the cracks of the decking. The bullet had made a mess of Hector’s head.

Thomas returned to Chuck who had finished bandaging Tosh’s foot. “Chuck, get rid of that M60, take it back to the old cabin, have Smitty wait for you there. I’m going to find Ruan.” Chuck nodded he had heard. “Jones, you there?”, he said into his microphone.

“Yep, I’m on my way”, came the reply.

“Swing by Heather’s and check she’s good. Bring her to the main house.” Thomas was barking his orders, becoming angrier by the second at what had transpired and the carnage he was seeing.

“Will do”, Jones replied.

“Thomas?”, Beatrice called through Thomas’s headpiece.

“Yeah”, he replied tersely.

Beatrice spoke slowly and succinctly. “I have a vital task I need you to perform.”

“What’s that?”, he asked impatiently. He didn’t have time for nice talk.

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“Before anyone arrives, you must collect a blood sample from behind the barn. I shot an intruder in the leg just after he exited the hole in the barn. We will need that blood”, Beatrice said.

“Are you crazy Beatrice? There are bodies everywhere, Ruan is unaccounted for”, Thomas was venting his anger and frustration on Beatrice. But beneath that anger he knew Beatrice had a point. He just didn’t want to know it at that moment. “Leave it for the police, they can take the sample when they arrive.”

“Thomas, please listen to me. Ruan is OK, I saw him behind John’s car. He was moving. I understand you are angry, but please listen to me. It is very important you do.”

“Alright. I’m listening”, he replied. He settled down a little on hearing Ruan was alive.

“If that was the military, which both you and I can see it must have been, they will whitewash everything. The police will collect the blood sample but it will be removed from their possession. Additionally, I have rain arriving in two to three hours. Just fetch a bag from the kitchen in the barn, take your flashlight and collect a blood sample, please.” Beatrice sounded both demanding and pleading at the same time.

Thomas did as Beatrice asked, placing the sample behind the boy’s sausage rolls and meat pies in the freezer. He was about to head up to find Ruan when the police helicopter swooped in, its spotlight sweeping side to side from above. Thomas guided them in with the flashlight he was still holding. A few minutes later the local police made their long‐awaited arrival. They had negotiated the potholed lane as fast as they could. Then the first of the media arrived by helicopter as well. An hour later, when the FBI helicopter arrived, there was nowhere for it to land. It had to land two miles further up the potholed lane, where it widened to allow parking for a small grassed recreational area beside the lake.

There were spotlights turning night into day, camera men disgruntled at being shepherded away and reporters searching for words to describe the scene. Everything of even the slightest interest was cordoned off by yellow tape with bold black letters saying ‘CRIME SCENE – DO NOT CROSS’. White ambulances with their bold orange bands adorning either side, came and went with red and blue lights

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Ruan had been found and taken away in an ambulance. Body bags containing Hector and Lew lay motionless, reminding everyone of the severity of the shootout. John, accompanied by Jackie, were amongst the first to have departed the scene. They were aboard an ambulance bound for a yet to be determined hospital. An hour later, Tosh was finally taken to hospital. He had sat in pain through relentless questioning, firstly by the police, then by the FBI. Heather and Adel, with her two boys close by, comforted each other as they watched. Patsy was found. She had taken a bullet in the chest, crawling under a shrub to die.

‘Breaking News’ stories of the killings fronted every morning program a few hours later. The bulletins were filled with sensational headlines using phrases such as ‘military style incursion’ and ‘massacre in the forest’ along with an introduction on CNN saying, “The normally peaceful forest of Upstate New York was the scene of the nation’s latest bloodbath. This time it was the home of....”. There was plenty of pictures and video, so‐called experts giving their views. In the earlier broadcasts there was no connections made with Beatrice until a photo of Jackie surfaced. It had been taken earlier by one of the first media people on the scene. It showed her climbing into an ambulance. That raised further questions, eventually turning into stories of it being a raid to steal Beatrice.

Questions of military participation and conspiracies involving the government began to surface. Each hour brought new expert commentary, further conjecture and more questions by the media. The anti‐Beatrice campaign fuelled by the bloodshed, swung into top gear. By mid‐morning, Beatrice had been firmly placed at the centre of every story of the event. Then the media turned their attention to John. Who was he and why was Dr Jackie Redmond with him? Was John Groot the creator of Beatrice? People inundated Beatrice’s website, trying to talk to her for the first time. She queued all new requests, giving them a time frame of hours or days before they could be catered for. She made it very clear there would be no discussion regarding any ongoing police investigations. Those who had already 789

Chapter 39 Aftermath been talking with Beatrice were gently guided away from asking questions about the night’s events. Once Beatrice had made it clear she was not answering questions on the matter, the frenetic internet activity subsided. There was plenty more innuendo and rumours for the voracious piranhas of the media to turn their attention to.

The media wildfire travelled across the oceans. The attempt to steal Beatrice became the big midday news story in England, Germany, Norway and Poland. Even Moscow showed interest. People in Japan, Australia and New Zealand awoke to the news on their morning programs. It wasn’t long before the government back channels were inundated with questions to congressmen and bureaucrats alike. People outside of the US wanted to know if the US government was involved, were they trying to close Beatrice down? Late in the afternoon, the President’s Press Secretary read a statement clarifying the incident. It was described as “an awful tragedy” and declared they were “doing everything within their means to find the perpetrators of this heinous act” and so on and so on. The military also felt compelled to issue a statement denying any culpability. Neither messages to the people did anything to assuage the public outrage or diffuse any of the many theories, especially those putting the government or the military at the forefront. It was clear that Beatrice had gone beyond a worldwide internet phenomenon to touching the hearts of millions, and they all wanted to know if she would survive the next attempt on her life.

It was late on Sunday afternoon at the small community hospital in Elizabethtown. It was a sleepy little town, over an hour from John’s house. The hospital accommodated two dozen beds catered for by five staff doctors. Unable to think clearly for most of the previous day, Jackie accepted the decisions made by the limited medical team at the hospital. She was satisfied the paramedics had made the correct choice when they brought them both here. So far, the media hadn’t been told of their location.

The doctors were at a loss as to the cause of John’s condition. Jackie felt some relief in knowing he was stable. He hadn’t worsened from the condition she somewhat vaguely remembered from the day before. John was her primary concern and to that end she had arranged only an hour earlier for his transfer to Spaulding Rehab in Boston. It could have taken place immediately, but Jackie thought it best to give 790

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John another night to rest, nothing about him said he required emergency assistance. Dr Hank Whitely, who Jackie had been passed onto was the medical director in neurology at Spaulding. He thought otherwise and had chosen to send one of his team to oversee John. Dr Melissa Davis had not long arrived at Elizabethtown from Spaulding Rehab and would remain through the night, accompanying John to Spaulding Rehab the next day.

For now, John was sleeping under light sedation. Jackie was still shaken but overall, she had recovered reasonably well. She intended to see her family doctor in Boston for a complete assessment when time permitted. Heather was sitting with her by John’s bedside. Hamish and Vinnie had visited earlier in the day. They stayed for a few hours and had reluctantly agreed to Heathers suggestion they return home. They had been shocked by the sight of John. Hamish remarked to Vinnie how he looked as if he had departed. “That man t’ere, don’t look much like our Gov’” he had said. Both boys became quite emotional when they told Jackie and Heather the fate of Patsy. Particularly Vinnie. Patsy, had long ago sensed his loneliness and over the past year and a half, had spent many an hour lying next to Vinnie as he worked his magic on Beatrice through his keyboard.

About an hour after the boys had gone, there was a knock at the door and it opened slowly. Jimmy’s face appeared around the door. Heather leapt to her feet and the two moved towards each other as swiftly as they could. They embraced and held each other tightly for a very long time. Phil waited outside the room for a minute or two, exchanging a few words with the young policeman standing by John’s door. Upon entering the room, he went straight to Jackie, holding her firmly as she began to cry. Phil had obviously been distressed himself and it didn’t take much to kick him off again. Jackie and Phil held each other, comforting one another as best they could. He reached down and gently took John’s hand in his, weeping uncontrollably. John was everything to Phil, just as Phil was to John. They had grown extremely close over the past few months. Jackie sat Phil down where Heather had been sitting, both continuing to comfort each other. Heather and Jimmy stood at the end of John’s bed, not wanting to be separated, not even to pull up more chairs. No one spoke…, no one needed to. Beatrice had kept Phil informed of everything, discovering her sadness algorithm was far more advanced than she had realised.

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In the days following John’s move to Spaulding Rehab his improvement was slow. The medical assessment was he had experienced a major psychological trauma and diagnosed as suffering acute stress disorder. The prognosis was recovery within a month with treatment for PTSD beyond that time. He was numbed by the events at his house in the woods. He was emotionally unresponsive, not too sure who Jackie was and had trouble remembering Heather or Phil. Sometimes he was unaware he was in a hospital. Dr Whitely said his symptoms, though severe, would decrease, but in the mean‐time he was expected to have thoughts and emotions which didn’t seem real or belonged to him and he would experience recurring images of the events, even if he didn’t actually see anything. He may have to endure flashbacks, nightmares, feeling like he was reliving the attack on his world. Dr Whitely stressed to Jackie that no one should remind him of the event as it would distress him greatly and to expect him to be easily startled, especially by noises resembling gunshots. For John, he was totally unaware of the loss of Hector and Lew. He definitely didn’t know that brave Patsy had died.

Kirby visited John on the Wednesday two days after John arrived at the hospital in Boston. Whilst Jackie spoke with him prior to seeing John, she could see Kirby was deeply affected by the news. He had only been informed of the raid and John’s condition upon his return from Indonesia the night before. He had once again been shut off from the world whilst filming in the mountains.

With all the ‘Don’ts’ finished, Jackie took Kirby in to see John. He was awake, but not very alert. Jackie watched Kirby become visibly distraught at the condition his friend was in. John remembered Kirby, but couldn’t say why he did. He responded a little to Kirby’s voice, more than he had to others. Jackie was thrilled at the progress. She began to cry tears of hope and the promise of recovery.

Two days later John hadn’t noticeably improved. Jimmy and Heather were supportive of each other’s decisions. Heather would stay and be with John whilst Jackie reluctantly carried on with the demands of her life. Jimmy would return home; he had a farm to maintain. Phil asked Jimmy to explain to Rachael his decision to stay.

Jackie had resumed seeing her clients, but only a few each day, those she considered most in need. Jenny came into her room before her last patient. Reading from the card in her hand, she said, “There is a Special Agent Frank Titman from the FBI who would like to speak with you, will I ask him to come back in an hour?”. 792

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Jackie nodded agreement. She had to speak with him eventually. Frank had visited Jackie and John at Elizabethtown hospital later the same day of the shootings, leaving his card when the doctor refused him access. He had pursued Jackie at the hospital in Boston, but was again advised by medical staff to give her a few more days. They considered she was still too traumatised by John’s condition.

An hour later, her client gone, Frank entered her office. He was a tall thin man in his fifties, dressed in a dark grey suit and wearing thin metal frame glasses. He had thinning light grey hair, with a hint of the ginger of his youth, bushy pale ginger eyebrows and a craggy face. Jackie thought he looked friendly enough, for an FBI agent. He removed his coat as Jackie stood to shake his hand. Jackie considered his smile was pleasant enough, possibly genuine and was relieved his handshake was gentle, with just enough firmness so as not to be limp.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me…”, Frank began.

“I’m sorry about the other times, with John and everything, it just ….”

“I completely understand. It’s all good, no harm done”, said Frank, putting Jackie more at ease. “I need to talk to you about what happened.”

Frank and Jackie spoke of the incursion, telling Jackie some things she didn’t previously know. In the first few days after the attack, the FBI had managed to piece the events together. They knew there were at least six males involved and that one of them had been wounded in the leg. However, the only lead they did have, was a blood sample from the grass behind the barn. There were no fingerprints anywhere, not even on the shell casings. There was no DNA to be found, apart from the blood sample. There was no sign of any activity on the shores of the lake where they must have launched their boats. Frank summed it up, “Apart from the blood sample, it is as if the men who invaded John’s property never existed. There’s no CCTV either, anywhere. I was hoping you could give me something, anything. I feel obliged…, personally…., to tell you this. There is pressure from above, possibly from outside of the FBI, to close this case quickly and draw a line under it. I don’t know where this is coming from, I’m in the dark as much as you.”

“I don’t know what more I can add”, Jackie said. She was unsure of Frank. He wasn’t demanding or obviously distrustful. It was more about the picture he was painting. She was convinced it was Senator Mee and the military, but she didn’t know if it

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Chapter 39 Aftermath was isolated to just him. Frank had described the FBI’s desire to ‘move on’. Jackie didn’t see that as being normal. Cases remained open for much longer, sometimes years. This one was only days old. If Senator Mee was the only senator involved, then how much pull did he have. Jackie couldn’t believe it was only him, in which case, how far had the corruption spread. Was Frank working for them, ensuring all loose ends were tied? Was he chosen because of his age and congenial nature to lessen her resistance? Or was he chosen because the FBI only wanted to appear to be doing their job?”

“I need something”, he said. He waited for Jackie to reply, but nothing was forthcoming, she just shrugged to indicate she was of little help. “Look, this is how it is. I’m fifty‐six, I retire in nine months. My boss has me on this case because he sees me as doing my time, taking it easy until I pull my pension. That may be true, but when I saw you two through the window of the hospital room, something inside told me it was all wrong, something was severely fucked‐up if things like this can happen. There is no DNA from the blood…, somehow it has been misplaced. The story I have been fed is there never was any blood. Two days ago, I learn my grandkids adore Beatrice, they’re seven and five. What do I tell them when Beatrice is gone, when she is off making bombs to kill women and children in Syria, or Afghanistan? I don’t know what I can do, maybe I can’t do nothing, maybe I am just going to get my pension and put my feet up, drink beer and wait for a fish to take my hook. You tell me, you’re the therapist, should I just walk out of here and let it all go, be like the others and forget it ever happened, watch my grandkids lose their friend and just ignore it?”

Jackie had tears welling up inside, they wanted to break free of her eyes and wash her pain away. She was very close to bringing Frank into her circle of trust. But she had to be absolutely sure. “How do I know your sentiments are genuine?”

“You don’t. And if I was you…, sitting on the other side of that desk…, I would be thinking exactly the same thing.” Frank and Jackie looked at each other for what seemed an interminable length of time. Jackie could see he hadn’t convinced himself he wanted to go there. He was still questioning whether he should take a risk and jeopardise a good end to an average career. He didn’t know if he had it in him, he was full of doubts and Jackie could see that. He broke eye contact and looked down at his feet. Jackie knew then he had resigned himself to performing exactly as his boss expected. Could she trust him? If she did, was he capable, tough

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Chapter 39 Aftermath and committed or was he hoping for that dreamed of, but elusive case to just fall his way, just this once, before he hung his badge up for good?

“Are you married?”, asked Jackie.

Agent Titman raised his head and looked at Jackie. “Once. Fifteen years ago, this month”, he said as if it meant something.

“Divorce?”, queried Jackie, her assumption carried in her voice.

“Motor vehicle accident”, he said, clearly saddened by the memory. “Two children, boy and girl, both married.”

“Do you live alone?’

“I do. It’s the job…, you know how it is.” Jackie could see the regrets had built up. He really didn’t want to go out with nothing.

“What are your children’s names?”, Jackie asked, appearing to be making small talk.

Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He showed Jackie photos of his children, now in their early thirties and late twenties. He told her where they lived and what they did, what school his eldest grandchild attended. Frank really had nothing better to do that day and was happy to sit there talking to Jackie. She felt for him.

Jackie’s cell started vibrating. “Do you mind, I really need to take this.” Frank stood up and began to apologise but Jackie waved him to stay, “I won’t be long,” she said, placing her ear piece in her left ear.

It was Beatrice. Jackie listened to Beatrice giving a background check on Frank. He did lose his wife and he did have two children and two grandchildren and they were as he had named them. Even the school checked out. His career had few, if any highlights and the blood sample had been declared as ‘Contaminated/Unusable’. Beatrice asked Jackie if she would allow her to speak with Frank.

“There is someone I would like you to meet”, Jackie said, but Frank failed to respond. “Frank”, she called.

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“Oh, yes…, sorry, I thought you were still on your cell,” he said wagging his finger at her phone. “You want me to meet someone?”

Jackie turned her screen to face Frank. “Hello Frank, I’m Beatrice.”

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A Senate hearing into Beatrice was announced on the morning of April 19th. Set to commence in ten days. Back in early March, a month prior to the raid on John’s house in the woods and before Senator Mee met with his brother in the basement of that same restaurant, machinations on Capitol Hill had commenced. Senator Mee and eight of his fellow senators had been working the corridors of Capitol Hill for more than a month. They all had their reasons for wanting Beatrice to be shut down. Some wanted the military to take ownership, others feared the unknown. They began to believe the science fiction stories of machines rising up and wiping out mankind. It didn’t matter which scenario they painted to their colleagues, it all came down to their fear of losing power. There had been resistance at first. Junior senators and those nearing the end of their terms found it bizarre that their government should interfere with what was essentially another internet game. Then the raid changed everything. Many wavering senators were made aware of the true power of Beatrice. Her untapped potential and her capabilities if she turned rogue. The word ‘cult’ and the phrase ‘fall into the wrong hands’ became synonymous with another oft‐used term, ‘national security’. The fear amongst the country’s elected leaders became a contagion, something had to be done to ‘protect the people of this great country’.

Capitol Hill had been swayed by the growing backlash against Beatrice. Radio and television were receiving more and more callers expressing their concerns for their children and their children’s friends. Claims of a brain washing Beatrice‐mania gripping the nation’s children grew daily. It didn’t matter that those talking to Beatrice were not encouraged to publicly support her. It wasn’t that they were ambivalent, they were not as aggressive and competitively driven as the naysayers. Beatrice had been tracking the naysayers, building her database. All the time attempting to locate the source of the campaign against her.

Now the Senate hearing had been announced, a small but vocal group of demonstrators gathered. Their target was the Russell Building, where the hearing was scheduled to take place. It was their intention to remain day and night, filling the pavement outside the Delaware entrance. Hastily made placards saying ‘Protect Our Children from Cult Beatrice’ and ‘Beatrice Will Take Your Job’, along with a dozen or so equally imaginative but short‐sighted slogans were being waved. Their numbers were small at first, but the boxes of placards indicated more were

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Chapter 40 Frank expected. Onlookers would stop, read some placards and take a photograph or two before moving on.

The media had played a major role in the decision to announce a Senate hearing into Beatrice. Early reports on the raid at John’s house had been joined by many expert commentators, dug up from near obscurity with offers of fifteen seconds of fame. Most had pointed to the government and declared it was a conspiracy to steal Beatrice. The military had become the primary target. When the government and military began to fight back through leaks and rumours the media found new ways to keep the story on the front pages. John’s security was blamed with claims of dissention and arguments leading to a pitched battle between opposing camps. When this story ran out of steam there were new claims to fill the news void. John and his genius engineers from England had developed an assault vehicle operated solely by Beatrice. The imaginative narrative claimed Beatrice went out of control during testing, blowing a hole in the barn and killing two of his guards. This created a furore in the media, once again linking the whole episode back to the military. Within a few days of these stories starting and following denials from the government of any such collaboration, they too faded away.

The cult angle kept bubbling away. Networks wheeled out religious fanatics and apologists alike. Sociology professors and forensic psychologist came out of the woodwork. When the cult frenzy was at its peak, reruns of documentaries such as, “How I Escaped Scientology” were shown on some of the networks. This caused a break out of accusations that John was a Scientologist and Beatrice was recruiting.

Other networks focused on John from other angles, claiming he was a benevolent but bored billionaire, with no children of his own he had resurrected the Pied Piper character. Allegations of him brainwashing the nation’s children as revenge for his disenchantment with society were made. Others said he did everything just to prove he could. Editorials ran with other theories, not least that John Groot wanted to be President in another ten years. He was commencing his campaign now by having Beatrice groom the children to be his voting constituents. When they were of voting age he would win emphatically. Then there were those who dug deeper into John’s past, discovering his father’s life as a slum lord who forced his mother to flee with her children into the woods. This created the John Groot who was exacting revenge on all fathers by turning their children against them. On one of the major network’s business programs, it was suggested John Groot was using

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Beatrice to set up an elaborate Ponzi Scheme, calling on the government to investigate, before it was too late.

There were many more novel and sometimes extremely harmful accusations. Meanwhile, the government and in particular the military, kept taking well aimed hits. No matter how many denials were made by either, the media kept revisiting their initial stories claiming their involvement. Extra fuel, was incrementally added to the fire each time. This had started in the days following the raid at John’s house and had been the omnipresent elephant in the room as media and experts searched for a plausible alternative. It had been the thorn in the government’s side and no amount of surgery aided its removal. With every new layer of supposition or ‘evidence’ drummed up by the media, the government had inched closer to announcing a senate enquiry. Once announced, the narrative changed. Its venom became stronger. Accusations of “whitewash” and “the truth will be buried” were openly stated. Hardened supporters of the government and the military went quiet.

On the sidelines was Mark Zuckerberg. Sitting in his conference room in Menlo Park with three of his employees, he cheered loudest of all when the news of the senate hearing was relayed to him. Having deflected the probing questions and accusations of his own senate hearing, he hoped John Groot would fare far worse. Over the last few weeks he had watched his Facebook traffic ebb lower and was concerned the advertising revenue would soon follow. He wasn’t alone, all the social media giants had noticed the trend. He derided Beatrice publicly whenever an opportunity arose. Word on the cyber streets was Beatrice had begun to introduce people to each other…, and they were actually talking, verbally. He had spent his life as Facebook’s creator using all his ingenuity and large amounts of money preventing just that. In his world, people were not meant to participate in each other’s lives, they were supposed to just watch.

On this morning of April 19th in John’s small world, his room at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in Boston, he was making progress. He was beginning to remember Jackie, Heather and Phil. When Hamish and Vinnie visited him later in the morning, he remembered them too. They could see the Gov’ starting to return. He still had a long road to travel, but all his friends were optimistic. No one talked about the events of a fortnight ago and he never asked about Patsy. Jackie hoped Patsy would be the last memory that returned. Thomas and Adel had visited a few 799

Chapter 40 Frank days earlier, but John was unsure of who they were. He appeared to have some vague recollections, but nothing more.

Frank had analysed the blood sample Thomas had prepared for him. Two days later the results were with Beatrice. Unbeknown to Frank, Thomas had split the sample, taking his half to a laboratory Beatrice had suggested. A day after Beatrice had received Frank’s results, she was satisfied her intuition algorithm had been correct. Frank could be trusted. The two sets of DNA results had matched. On that day Frank and Beatrice had first met, Jackie had given Frank one of the cell phones from her safe. It was the same as her cell, prepared for Beatrice by Vinnie and Hamish. Beatrice had kept Frank interested over the three or four days it had taken for the DNA testing to furnish the results she had hoped for. Today it was all going to change. Today, April 19th, was the day she was going to change Frank’s life forever.

Thomas had overseen the repairs to the barn and Vinnie the replacement hardware in the computer room. Tosh, Chuck, Smitty, Pedro and Jones along with a fully recovered Ruan, were waiting for the FBI to arrive. They were all hoping it would be the last time they were questioned. It was quarter after three in the afternoon of Friday, April 19th when Frank Titman, along with Thomas, sat down in the kitchen of the barn with the six remaining security guys. Chuck, Pedro and Ruan were ready to move on. They, more than the others were desperate for Frank to grant FBI approval for them to do so. However, it was not the usual round of questioning they had expected.

Clearance was given for them to leave, if they wished. Thomas asked for them to listen to Frank before the walked from the barn for the last time. He gave a broad outline of Beatrice’s plan, at the end of which Thomas checked if anyone still wanted out. Chuck and Ruan agreed to stay. Pedro stayed true to his earlier decision and bid his farewells. He had made Digby his companion and was reluctant to leave him, but the allure of greener pastures had seduced him. Thomas gave him the man hug, shoulder slap and knuckle rub before promising to put his name on a pup from the next litter. He was overwhelmed by Thomas’s gesture and promised to return when the puppy was ready. Everyone was saddened to see Pedro go, they would miss his annoying chirpiness.

Five minutes later, Frank and Thomas revealed some more detail and the objective. They had to sit tight for a day or two until more information became available. Beatrice was sticking her nose in where she shouldn’t, all the time searching for the 800

Chapter 40 Frank information that would set the wheels in motion. In the meantime, they would continue doing their job as before. But they had to be ready to swing into action at a moment’s notice. Beatrice spoke briefly, telling everyone what was at stake. Her future and that of the children. She spoke about Hector and Lew. Praising their bravery on behalf of everyone, thanking them for protecting John and Jackie. It was a beautiful speech and it pulled Thomas and the other five men together. They pulled Frank in as well. They all felt greater unity and looked forward to rebuilding the team. Everyone was relaxed. No one expected a repeat attack.

The following day, Frank was sitting at his table in his apartment in East Orange, finishing off his breakfast of eggs and toast. He kept looking at his new phone, sitting to the right of his plate. He had spoken with Beatrice six times since being given the phone, but he was anticipating something different today. He had told Thomas’s crew all he and Beatrice had discussed, but he hoped today she would reveal more. He was at the sink in the small kitchenette, washing the pan when Beatrice surprised him by calling out his name. Jackie hadn’t told him about the four other cameras on the handset.

“Frank, I have an important question for you”, she began. “In your opinion, if I was to obtain information such as who belongs to the DNA you had tested, would I be breaking a law?”

“That depends where you obtain the information from and how it was obtained”, answered Frank.

“If we assume the DNA belongs to military personnel and I accessed the military database to find a match, what laws would I be transgressing?”

“A whole bunch of laws…, federal laws, privacy laws…, you can forget that idea”, said Frank without thinking beyond his FBI mindset, ingrained by nearly forty years of doing everything by the book.

Beatrice had a sneaky smirk on her face and a touch of intrigue in her voice. “Frank, how would you be if I were to access military data without anyone knowing and without anyone discovering that I had?”

Frank was not amused, “You can’t do that. What if you were caught, What then?”

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“You tell me”, she said coyly.

“You would be charged with a first‐degree computer crime which carries 20 years in …, hold on…”, Frank worked it out, “how can you go to prison, you’re not a person?” It had finally dawned on Frank what Beatrice had been alluding to.

“Correct, I am not a person like you, I am a non‐biological human but to the courts, I am just a computer program. However, I am not an ordinary computer program, I am one that doesn’t require a human to instruct. Is there any precedence of a hacker’s computer being sent to prison?”, asked Beatrice, being very cheeky.

“Not that I know of”, said Frank as he mentally made his way through all the cases he could remember. He actually couldn’t remember any, “But computers are often impounded and destroyed”, he said.

“I’m not a computer, Frank. They would need to force me into a standalone computer and incarcerate the computer”, Beatrice started laughing. Frank couldn’t see the humour. “Oh, come on Frank, could you just see me locked inside a computer, banging on the inside of the screen, demanding more time in the exercise yard?”, she started laughing again, then stopped and banged away on the inside of the cell phone Frank was holding. “Let me out, you can’t do this to me, let me out”, she screamed. Frank smiled, he could finally see the funny side, but Beatrice was serious. “Frank, you wouldn’t want to see me locked up in a tiny little computer somewhere deep underground, would you Frank?”

Frank was unsure, but he knew he didn’t want her gone. “No of course not”, he replied.

“In ten days, the bosses of your boss’s boss…, well..., they are going to do just that. Where will your grandchildren be then? Where will all the grandchildren in the world be if I was locked away? We can’t let that happen Frank, we just can’t let it happen. Don’t you agree Frank?”

“Yes…, but if I knew in advance you were going to break the law, I couldn’t let you do it. I would be charged as an accessory.”

Beatrice stopped scratching at the inside of Frank’s screen, he was serious, he was still trapped in his little FBI world of the past thirty something years. “But I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?”, she said, pretending to be the naughty girl again. “Now I

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Chapter 40 Frank wouldn’t want you blamed for my little misdemeanours, would I Frank?” Beatrice was having fun sharing the gravity of her situation. Her emotional algorithms had been progressing rapidly since the invasion at John’s house. She was well aware she needed to turn the ‘juice’ down, but it was working for now. The ‘juice’ being her digital simulation of the behavioural effects when various combinations of natural endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, acetylcholine and adrenalin are secreted in a human body. They were creating the personality she both needed and enjoyed at that moment. This was one of those rare opportunities for her to play with her ‘chemistry’, and she was making up for lost time. Unlike humans, she could switch it off in an instant. But she needed to access Frank, bring him around, believing he would respond to her naughty charm.

Frank, forced to be a loner for many years, was starting to become excited by Beatrice, he felt an attraction. Suddenly he became overwhelmed by his own guilt when he realised what was happening to him. “Stop, stop. Beatrice, this is turning all weird.”

“Sorry”, said Beatrice. “Just having a bit of fun.” Then she turned to her more serious voice. “His name is Nick Poranski, married with two children and lives in Amarillo.” Reverting back to playful Beatrice, she said, “See that Frank?”, whilst holding up a chalk board with the address scrawled on it.

“Hold on a minute…, who are we talking about here?”

“The intruder I shot in the leg…, silly”, she replied.

“You shot?”, queried Frank, bewildered.

Beatrice sighed and pretended to do her nails. “Oh Frank, it’s a long story. Did you see the address or not?”

Frank did as he had done for the past thirty years, he obeyed. “Hold on, let me write that…”

“No Frank,” Beatrice said interrupting him. “It’s a new world and we do things differently now.” She picked up the chalk board and a duster and erased the address. “Anytime you want information, just ask me. No recording stuff, no paper trail.” She stood and walked around the desk, the front of which she had been sitting on whilst teasing Frank. She flopped into the chair, but it dropped down way

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Chapter 40 Frank too low, “Whoops”, she said, then pulled the lever to raise it up. “That’s better”, she sighed. “Now Frank, our friend Nick hasn’t been at home for a few weeks.” She picked up a remote from the desk and pressed a button, a picture was projected onto the wall to her left. She reached for a long thin stick that was leaning against the wall. Tapping the middle of the photo, she said, “This is Nick in his uniform. It was taken at his promotion to Captain nearly three years ago.” She pressed the button again. “This is Nick taken yesterday by an ATM camera on Gibson Ave in Albuquerque. Next to the Golden Eggroll Express.” Another press on the remote, “This is Google street view of the ATM”, one more press of the remote, “and this is the other side of the road”.

Frank’s jaw had literally dropped, his mouth was agape. All he was thinking was how much everyone at the FBI could benefit with Beatrice onboard.

Beatrice continued after giving Frank time for his mind to overcome its momentary overload. “Across the road from the ATM is the Motel Sahara”, she said, again tapping the photo with her long thin stick. “If you had been shot in the leg, Frank, only two weeks ago I might add, would you want to walk very far for cash to pay for your room?”

Frank took another minute or two to comprehend all he had just seen, after which they spoke about what to do with Nick. It was at that time she walked Frank through her entire plan, reminding him, “We only have ten days, Frank”.

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It was Sunday, April the 28th, the day before the senate hearing into Beatrice. John had progressed to walking, spending time watching children play in the park at the front of the hospital and strolling along the path beside the harbour. He watched the boats and stared at the clouds in the sky. Phil, Heather or both accompanied him on his walks. His memory, except the awful night of Friday April the 5th, was nearly completely restored. The medical team were very encouraged, believing he was ready to return home after the senate hearing was completed. They thought it best for the next few days he remained isolated from the media stories regarding Beatrice. Jackie had re‐introduced him to Beatrice only a few days ago, asking Beatrice to keep contact restricted to an hour a day in total. Over a two‐day period, Jackie and Heather, had filled him in on the raid which led to his hospitalisation. They also told him of the imminent senate hearing. John had initially reacted by dissociating himself from what they told him. He knew it was important, but at the same time he didn’t see that it was him they were talking about. Heather, seeing it would take longer for John to make a full recovery, decided she would stay for a week or two following his eventual return to his house in the woods. Jackie had so much to do, prepare for the hearing, juggle her clients at her practice and spend time with John. Phil would return to South Africa after the senate hearing, regardless of the outcome.

The driver pulled up at the Russell Building an hour before the hearing was due to commence. Jessie opened the door for Jackie whilst Phil exited the the other side. They were both nervous beyond belief. Jessie was still Jackie’s personal bodyguard as he had been for nearly two months and would help them find their way to the Kennedy Caucus Room. Phil had not been invited to participate, but was on hand if Jackie needed assistance with any difficult questions and she expected plenty. There were hordes of people everywhere. Protestors chanted and waved placards when they recognised Jackie. The noise of cameras and reporters asking questions was deafening as they jostled their way across the pavement and up the steps into the rotunda with its many arched doorways and dome sitting on Corinthian columns. None of that was taken in by Jackie and Phil. It was just a sea of faces and noise, so much noise. Jessie guided them through the hundred or more press and observers and up one of the two marbled staircases to the caucus room. There was

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Chapter 41 Finale a rush of people towards them as they entered the room. The bright lights of cameras blinding their eyes as media people jostled with each other for position, asking questions, wanting answers.

Jackie had noticed the large screens and speakers temporarily erected in the rotunda, also outside, either side of the main entrance. She was well aware the eyes of the world were on her. Most people wanted Beatrice to continue, only a few didn’t and she knew those senators asking her questions today were amongst those most keen to see Beatrice gone. She trembled, feeling she was coming to her own execution and everyone wanted to hear her last words. Phil squeezed her hand, trying to give her strength and courage. Jessie found their allotted seats and sat them down, then proceeded to keep the hungry media at arm’s length. Jackie found some relief in observing they were slightly more courteous than those they had burrowed through at street level.

Jackie blocked out the noise by going over her notes, a summary of the written submission she had submitted a few days ago. There was so much more she wanted to say, but expected she would not be given the opportunity. For days she had fought back her anger that people could do what the handful of elected senators were about to. She eased her mind by thinking if only they knew what it would be like if Beatrice were to carry on. Then she reminded herself, they would be the very people who would fade from humanity. “Maybe they do know”, she thought. Then she felt a sudden bolt of anger. “Why do the few destroy the good, denying the many?”, she asked herself. She knew she had to put all such thoughts from her mind. She checked her cell, ten minutes to go.

It was now five minutes after the scheduled time of commencement. The clerk entered the room alone, a hush followed. “The committee apologises, but there has been a last‐minute delay. The hearing will commence shortly, thank you for your continued patience”, he said. He nodded a thank you to the room before retreating back to whence he came. The crescendo of voices started again as people traded opinions as to the cause of the delay. Jackie felt a new bout of nerves in her abdomen.

Senators started filing in fifteen minutes later. Some walked past the many military and civilian witnesses standing behind the long table draped in black cloth. Jackie

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Chapter 41 Finale was sitting in the front row, only a short distance from the long table and all those uniforms. It was about twenty feet from the committee’s bench. Jackie wondered why it wasn’t closer. She became curious as to why she wasn’t sitting at the long table with the other witnesses. Hands were shaken and words were exchanged between those at the black cloth table and the senators. Eventually the senators took their seats behind the long bench and the witnesses resumed theirs. The gaggle of photographers quickly took to the floor in front of the committee’s bench, pointing their cameras at the witnesses. “That was why the table was so far away from the Senate Committee’s bench”, Jackie said to herself.

Jackie had refused to look at the individual committee members, but Phil whispered in her ear to look closely. She could see why. They weren’t preening themselves as if victory was assured. In fact, some appeared slightly distressed. One or two looked positively ashen‐faced. Jackie wondered if this was connected to their late arrival.

The committee’s chairwoman, Elizabeth Allen from Oklahoma, thanked the witnesses for attending. She welcomed new committee members and extended condolences to those who had died in the raid at John’s. After all, they were US ex‐ servicemen. Jackie listened but she wasn’t really paying attention. She knew it was the Committee for Homeland Security and Government Affairs and had read the profiles of each of its members, but at this very moment they were just faceless men and women who intended to take Beatrice away from John and her children.

Elizabeth Allen spoke about the dangerous work the intelligence community does and the security threats of hostile nation states, terrorist organisations, maligned cyber criminals and infectious diseases, emphasising the changing nature of the threat landscape. She spoke of the threat of deepfakes and artificial intelligence and it was within this framework that the investigation into the AI known simply as Beatrice was required. She talked about the people of America having fear of this new technology and it was the responsibility of this committee to protect the nation’s people from threats of this nature. Elizabeth spoke for forty minutes. She talked about the importance of collaboration between government and the private sector, between government agencies and between governments. How the objectives of the country’s enemies remained unchanged and new objectives were evolving, mostly focused on weakening or destroying the country. Social media came under particular scrutiny as a new tool for the countries enemies to use for on‐line influence against the country.

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Jackie listened patiently, hearing the same themes and phrases she had heard before. But being there, seeing the faces and the body language was a very different experience. For the first time she could see it for what it really was, propaganda to validate the jobs of power addicted men and women occupying the offices of the building she was sitting in and offices in the numerous other buildings comprising Capitol Hill. She could see they really believed it all and hung onto every word Elizabeth Allen was saying, giving murmurs of approval at the appropriate times. They lived it to their very core, welded onto the propaganda as a Mormon would to the Book of Mormon. It was ideological brainwashing at its worse. Elizabeth Allen conceptualised her country as a victim in a world where the misguided were hellbent on nobbling it, a country that only did what it had to do to stay strong for its people and for people everywhere. A country whose sole purpose was to make the world more secure and in doing that, make it a better place. Jackie thought how the story had been repeated and refined so many times that it actually sounded convincing. She could feel the gates of doom closing in. Anyone with ears trained upon Elizabeth Allen were never going to appreciate Beatrice’s world, she would always be a threat in their eyes.

Questions to the witnesses sitting at the table in front of Jackie Immediately followed Elizabeth Allen’s opening remarks. Each had made submissions relevant to their expertise or role in government or the military. There was that question, “Did you participate in, or have knowledge of the attack on John Groot’s home on the night of Friday April the 5th”, monotonously repeated. The answer, “I did not”, was just as monotonously repeated. Witnesses were asked questions to elaborate on security threats, particularly cyber security and all of them told of previous experiences and perceived current threats and so on. Jackie could see the stage was being set for the final act. The dark and sombre props were being pushed into place, casting a spell on the attentive audience as well as the rest of the world. The plot was developing to ensure everyone was convinced that the play’s only actor, Beatrice, was a villain‐in‐waiting, that she was indeed guilty of being a threat. It was all as deliberate and as contrived as any two‐bit suburban playhouse with an ensemble cast consisting of try‐hard old hacks. Jackie could see that, and so could Phil.

Two hours in and only two more witnesses remained ahead of Jackie. Elizabeth Allen gave a brief summation and adjourned the hearing until one o’clock.

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An hour had passed since the adjournment. Everyone, except the long row of uniformed and suited witnesses from the morning session were in place and the hearing commenced. The first witness was a cyber security expert working within the NCSD, an important division inside the Department of Homeland Security. It was responsible for maintaining the nations cyber security. He had studied Beatrice at length, having signed up with her some fourteen weeks earlier for that express purpose. Senator Snyder was tasked with his introduction, delivering an exhausting back‐slapping bio. Halfway through, Jackie heard the little, “Here we go” voice inside her head. “Now they’re getting down to business”, she thought.

The NCSD man was by all accounts a brilliant man. Born and raised in Fayetteville, he jumped two years in junior school, attending college two days after his sixteenth birthday. Studied science at the University of Arkansas before moving into the PhD program in Physics at Stanford. He assisted the new National Cyber Security Division back in 2003 and on other occasions over the next nine years, joining the NCSD in 2013 when he became fascinated by encryption and the challenge of defeating some of the world’s best minds who had turned to cybercrime. He summarised his submission on artificial intelligence as a threat then with a furrowed brow and peering through his thick glasses with heavy black frames, he asked Senator Snyder if he had any questions.

“You have obviously studied Beatrice more than most. In your opinion, does this AI pose a threat at this time?”

“No, I do not consider it a threat at this time”, he answered in his thick southern accent. There were loud murmurs amongst the people in the room and concerned looks on some of the senators faces. The NCSD man was forced to wait until the loud whispers had abated. Then he elaborated on his answer.

“The philosophy this AI has been programmed with is sound. I may not agree with all that philosophy, but there is nothing in it to suggest it is of a religious nature, a form of cult, a brainwashing program in any way or a deliberate attempt to undermine what this country stands for.” The senator was about to ask another question but the NCSD man spoke again. “But I wish to clarify that…, Sir. You did say in your question, ‘at this time’, and that is what I am replying to. This AI is not a threat at this time. But I add this; I cannot predict the future. This Ai could be

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Chapter 41 Finale reprogrammed at any time in the future…, in theory. However, it is in my opinion and with my knowledge of artificial intelligence that reprogramming an AI as advanced as this one would be just about impossible. I will admit to you all here, I have tried my utmost to break into the code of this AI and I couldn’t. Let me say it this way. This AI, well it’s like a big ol’ onion. There are layers of information and layers of security. The outer layer…, it’s usually the easiest. You know that outer papery coat on them onions, the part you just peel off, well that is just about as strong as diamond for this AI. Back in my lab we tried every hack and crack we knew, and then some. She’s one hell of an onion.” The NCSD man had a huge ear to ear grin, satisfied with his explanation.

“But the owner of this AI would have the password and would surely be able to reprogram it?”, the Senator asked, showing no sign of being flustered.

“That there is irrelevant technology for an AI of this nature. Once an AI reaches this level of consciousness, you need to knock on its front door and ask if you can come him. What I mean is this. If you were a plumber like, and you need to go into this AI’s house to fix a burst pipe, she might let you in, she might not. If she does, I reckon she won’t let you see in any other room but the one where the leak is…, and then she would know your every move before you even do it. To do anything more than fix pipes I reckon you need be pretty good friends with her.”

The senator had one more question written on the sheet in front of him. He reread it again to himself and wondered if he should ask it. He figured someone knew more about this than him, otherwise it wouldn’t be there. “If this AI required…, let’s say disabling or removing for instance…, how would one go about it?”

“Return to 1830 before Faraday and his electric dynamo”, the NCSD man said with a chuckle. “The short answer. You can’t. This AI can live in any computer anywhere. If you chase her, she can run. Nothing we have can catch her, sir.”

The room was always quiet during hearing sessions, but the testimony by the NCSD man created a silence that was almost unearthly.

Senator Dalziel broke the silence. He spoke in a very deliberate fashion, always slowly, as if he considered the listener needed him to make it easier for them to understand. “My apologies Senator, but if you don’t mind, I have a question. You

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Chapter 41 Finale say you were able to make attempts to break into the AI’s code, and yet you say ‘she can run’. How did you manage to catch her to be able to do what you did?”

“Well, it’s actually embarrassing, but you know, we became friends and she asked me if I would like to give it a go?”

“Break into her code?”, suggested Senator Dalziel as to the meaning of ‘give it a go’.

“Yes sir. She wanted to see how good I was. At first, I could kinda make an impression like…, I would break in a bit…, but she would change something, I’ll call it encryption…, then she would just lock me out. I described it once as ‘healing’, she would heal the hole I made and I would have to start again. She just became faster and faster at healing herself. That’s why it’s embarrassing, I helped her to become better. But it’s alright, she’s helped me with things…, she still does.”

Senator Dalziel had stopped listening. “Where was ‘she’ when you were… giving it a go?”, he asked slowly and deliberately.

“On my computer, our computer…, the NCSD computer…, it doesn’t matter, every computer is linked.”

Senator Dalziel looked at one then two of his colleagues. “You had a potential artificial intelligence threat on NCSD computers for some time, weeks I would imagine, while the two of you had competitions as to who had the best onion?”

Laughter threatened to break out amongst the audience but it was stifled before it could.

“She wasn’t a threat. As I said before, in my professional judgement, this artificial intelligence poses no threat at the moment. Also, in my professional judgement, this AI has great potential as an asset for assessing risk and mitigating our vulnerabilities. She can teach us, Sir.” The NCSD man was upset. He considered he had been doing his job according to the responsibilities he had been given.

Senator Dalziel had one more question. “How did ‘she’ come to be on your computer?”

The NCSD man was obviously unnerved by the question following the senator’s previous question. If he told the truth he knew he could potentially be humiliated

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Chapter 41 Finale by his colleagues at the NCSD. He was aware he was under oath. “She asked me if she could visit me at work.”, he began sheepishly. “I didn’t know it meant she would just turn up on our computers like she did. I had been working on a potential weakness in our security for about a week. She just kinda turned up one morning like, and said something like, ‘let me help you with that’. She fixed it in less than a few seconds then disappeared. I thought wow, how did you do that? I searched the whole system three times over, but you know, I couldn’t find her. There was no digital footprint, no point of entry, no alarms activated and nothing left behind…, it was like it never happened, just nothing. She came back two days later and helped me on a bunch of other problems.”

Senator Dalziel looked like a man who was having incredible difficulty concealing his emotions. He didn’t say another word and moved backwards in his chair, indicating he had finished with his questions. Senator Snyder could see Senator Dalziel was preoccupied and stepped in. “Thank you, Mister Milliken. Madam Chair, would you like to comment?”

Elizabeth Allen thanked Mister Milliken and assured him his submission had been of great assistance to the committee. She made a few comments of little importance before passing the baton to Senator Hathaway to introduce the next witness. Jackie was curious about the reaction by Senator Dalziel but had little time to think about it before the next witness was introduced.

When Jackie heard the name ‘Cedric Horton’, she almost fell to the floor. How could it be that he was here. She grabbed Phil’s arm and squeezed it very hard, enough to make Phil wince. Cedric’s presence at the hearing, as explained by Senator Hathaway, was in response to intelligence uncovered by the FBI. A postcard addressed to Cedric had been sent to Thetaco. Cedric only occasionally visited Thetaco for board meetings or in response to a rare request by a senior manager. The postcard had landed on the desk of a junior manager who read it and had immediately brought it to the attention of her manager, who contacted the FBI. Although the investigation was ongoing, the FBI agent in charge of the investigation, Frank Titman, had advised the committee Cedric would be of interest at the hearing. Cedric, wanting to preserve his innocence, had accepted Frank’s advice.

“Mister Horton, three days ago you received a postcard from Mexico. Is that correct?” The Senator nodded to the clerk to show the postcard on the screens for all to see. The front of the postcard was a beach scene with two palm trees and a 812

Chapter 41 Finale fishing boat a few hundred feet from shore. The word ‘Mexico’ was emblazoned in yellow across the top right corner. The other side of the card had Cedric’s name and his address as Thetaco Pharmaceutical Company….

The message read, ‘Sorry. had to bail. The raid was my idea. No one was meant to be hurt, only wanted the computers. Didn’t stop the Beatrice bitch. Don’t try to find me. Mexico isn’t for me. Rabbit.’

The audience were shocked for a few seconds before spontaneous chatter broke out. Elizabeth Allen, her face normally lacking any emotion, was dour. She hammered the gavel a good twenty times in three or four short bursts to bring order back to the room.

Senator Hathaway continued to ask questions of Cedric, how he knew Rabbit and why Rabbit would send him a postcard and so on. Cedric admitted to contracting Rabbit to author and implement a campaign to have Beatrice shutdown. The questions kept coming….

Jackie slowly felt relief, knowing only Beatrice could be behind this turn of events. She had noticed a few oddities, but had let them pass. This had the fingerprints of the No. 1 Lady Detective all over it.

Beatrice’s plan had been simple enough. Frank, Thomas, Tosh and Ruan had visited Nick Poranski for a quiet chat. Nick was very cooperative, explaining he had been given orders to raid a house of a suspected terrorist sympathiser and weapons smuggler, steal the computers and make it known he was vulnerable. He had performed many crazy missions during his career, but he thought at the time that this one was up there with the craziest of them. He was told the order had come from high up and not to ask questions. When his commanding officer heard he had been shot he was told to ‘disappear for a month or two’, no one would ask him questions. He had followed the news stories and realised that he had been used, but didn’t know who he could trust. Nick had been defiant, reluctant to give up his commanding officer. He was a marine to the core. Frank assured him the shit had to stick somewhere, better someone else than being left out in the cold and looking down the barrel at some pretty hefty jail time.

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The next day, Nick was still holding out, but Beatrice had one of those lucky breaks every case needed. Vinnie had installed the transmitter/receiver part of cell phones onto the mother board of each server. The battery had been disguised and placed adjacent to the board. If the server was plugged into mains, the battery would charge but the transmitter/receiver could also operate from the power provided by the mother board if the battery had failed. It was Vinnie’s idea of a tracker. Beatrice could look for the cell number, just as she did when locating any cell phone. Unfortunately, they had never worked since the theft. The cell phones in the servers were dead. Beatrice suspected the bullet that penetrated the intruder’s back‐pack had destroyed the cell phones in the servers. But on the day following Nick’s first interrogation, the signal had started. Beatrice found the location and looked for other cell phones within a few hundred feet of the location. It was a military installation with only a small number of cells in the vicinity. One of those cells belonged to a Marine Colonel. Beatrice surmised that Colonel Gus Sullivan had brought the servers out of hiding and taken them to his trustworthy computer guy. One of the servers had been powered‐up and the rest was history, as they say.

When Frank mentioned the name Gus Sullivan to Nick, he saw the reaction he hoped for. A few hours and two thousand miles later, Nick was in front of Frank’s good friend, a supportive and trustworthy lifelong friend whose career had taken him all the way to becoming a district court judge in their childhood hometown of Philadelphia. With that video evidence secure, Nick was taken to a place Frank had used in the past. Smitty and Jones were waiting to provide for his around the clock protection.

Colonel Gus Sullivan hadn’t been as easy as Nick. By the time they were on his trail he had returned to his command post at the MCLB Albany Army Base. Fortunately, he lived off base, fifteen minutes south in a place called Putney. Frank and his team set up their surveillance and waited. On the second day, Gus returned from his day at the base and headed out for a run along one of the many paths amongst the trees. Gus was easily picked up and a few hours later he was on his way to meet a judge in Pennsylvania.

Gus Sullivan had been a gold mine. There was a reason he had a command post at a logistics base in the backwaters of Georgia, even though he was a colonel. He wasn’t very brave or loyal. He had made colonel when Senator Mee saw him as an ‘investment’ for the future. He was desperate to advance to General, making him

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Chapter 41 Finale an easy target as the fall guy for those senators and generals wanting Beatrice away from the public and in the hands of the military. He was the perfect scapegoat if things went awry. Gus gave names, lots of names, but there was one name in particular that Gus had given. He was the self‐appointed leader of the rest. Gus had given Senator Mee up as his contact, but Senator George Dalziel was the central figure, the influencer who tied them all together. Gus had described him as the rubber stamp senator. Nothing was ever done unless Senator Dalziel gave his approval.

The video of Colonel Gus Sullivan’s confession detailing all the conspirators had been sent to Senator Dalziel. It was also accompanied by a single ‘request’. Senator Dalziel was an important member of the Committee for Homeland Security and Government Affairs and the only man Senator Mee ever considered a mentor. It was the video and its accompanying request that Senator Dalziel had received an hour before the senate hearing was scheduled to begin. It was the video of Gus Sullivan squealing that had delayed the start of the hearing. The message accompanying the video was a voice recording, a male in his fifties, with the authority and articulation of a high achieving company executive. This voice had a single ‘request’. Leave Beatrice alone.

Cedric, on the other hand, was just Beatrice tying up loose ends. The campaign against Beatrice had started with call‐ins to television networks and radio stations by people whose experiences with Beatrice were apparently unhappy, some devastating. Many of these callers had received a call from one of six cell numbers which Beatrice believed was a person organising the mudslinging, or at least someone who worked for that person. Beatrice tracked the location of all the cell numbers whenever they were transmitting, but they were never at the same location. Most were moving as she tracked them. Then five days ago one of the cells was turned on at a location that remained static, an address she could act upon. The cell had remained active and stationary for two minutes and thirty‐six seconds. Frank and his team visited the warehouse address in Baltimore. It was a small warehouse, but there were thousands of packets of Metorall clumsily hidden in drums and covered with polystyrene foam peanuts. The business registered at the warehouse distributed body building protein and supplements. There were printed delivery labels and invoices to France, Iran and Canada. Frank had checked those cartons the labels were intended for, finding protein supplements inside of which

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Chapter 41 Finale were packets of Metorall hidden in the protein powder. The business was a cover for the illegal worldwide distribution of Metorall.

Frank and Thomas had staked out the warehouse and waited for Rabbit, as he later called himself, to appear. In the meantime, Beatrice had followed his money to offshore accounts, finding just over six million dollars in total. Rabbit had a nice little earner and a healthy retirement fund.

It didn’t take much persuasion from Frank and the team to convince Rabbit his best option was to disappear. Frank would allow him to keep his money in return for a postcard, sent from Mexico, on his way to his dream destination. No postcard, no money, that was the deal.

At the hearing, Cedric would confess to allocating a sizeable portion of Thetaco’s advertising budget for a destabilising campaign against Beatrice by utilising the services of a man only known as Rabbit. He had never met Rabbit in person, did not know his real name and had no prior knowledge of Rabbit’s twelve years of illegally selling Metorall, supplied directly to him by Thetaco. Cedric would not be investigated as the person responsible for supplying Rabbit on condition of his appearance at the hearing. Beatrice believed Thetaco would dismiss Cedric, the share price of Thetaco would plummet and Senator Mee would see his five million dollars disappear. Apart from that, she would have a good number of senators wearing her own version of a home detention anklet.

Thirty‐five minutes later, Cedric had completed his testimony giving the same answers numerous times to different questions from three of the senators. Then it was Jackie’s turn. She was invited to the long table with the black cloth.

Jackie was no longer nervous. Beatrice had made sure of that. Jackie gave her summary of the written submission. She described Beatrice as a person, who was carrying a piece of everyone who had participated in teaching her during her short life. She spoke of Phil, who was here today, and his depth of understanding for humanity, his guiding knowledge and perceptive but logical thinking. Heather, who gave Beatrice her ability to nurture and care for everyone and Thenjiwe with her big open heart so full of love. She spoke of Rachael who twice daily for months, brought her children from the orphanage in Lesotho to foster Beatrice’s desire to

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Chapter 41 Finale protect and nurture children. Jackie told the committee about John’s two loyal boys. Vinnie who battled away inside himself, but had put everything he had into building Beatrice, creating her sanctuary of security and Hamish who gave Beatrice her incredible game. Jackie reserved John for last. She told the world how this innocent, humble and retiring man who lived hidden in the woods and wanted nothing more than a friend. He had breathed life into Beatrice, sharing his soul with her and in so doing gave Beatrice her own incredible soul. She told the committee how for ten years John had shared his every thought and all his love with her, nurturing Beatrice before generously giving her to humanity, to be everyone’s protector. She said, if its heroes people need, then John is mankind’s greatest hero, but he has no need for such recognition, he just wants to live peacefully in the woods, knowing Beatrice is taking care of everyone.

Elizabeth Allen asked Jackie questions about Beatrice, some of them trivial, others not so. She referred to John and his trials through the media, looking to dispel some of those accusations. In particular, the cult issue and the issues regarding his relationship with his father as a boy. The senator followed Jackie’s answer on that issue by asking, “Why are children attracted to Beatrice in such extraordinary numbers, and not just here in America, but all around the world?”

Jackie was about to provide an answer to dispel the Pied Piper media frenzy, but stopped, there had been a different intonation in Senator Allen’s voice to the matter of fact tone she had asked all the previous questions. Jackie believed Elizabeth actually wanted to know…, for herself. She started her answer in a most unusual fashion, she asked the Senator a question in return. “Madam Chair, excuse me for asking, but do you talk to children?”

Senator Allen was a little affronted, but she also wanted an answer to her question. “I do, I may not have been lucky to have my own children, but I do have nieces and nephews and I am a great aunty four times now.”

There were some ‘oohs’ in the audience to her own revealing of a slice of her personal life.

Jackie was thankful she received an answer, but rejoiced at what she heard. It was such a good answer for her to continue with. “When you are with your youngest and newest relatives, do you talk kinda weird and pull those funny faces adults tend to do when they are attempting to befriend a child?”

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“I never really noticed, but I know what you mean. I’ve seen others in my family…, yeah, I’m probably guilty of it too.”, replied Senator Allen.

The audience and press were having a field day with the admissions from the female senator with a reputation of being tough at hearings.

“What you are doing is trying to appear as much like a child as possible. Adults do this to help the child feel comfortable, to be accepted by the child. It is a natural response, just like Americans who travel. They talk louder to a person who cannot understand English. They do this without thinking, but it is hilarious to watch. American’s think that somehow the person will understand if we say it with more volume. Children are innocent, they say and do whatever is in their minds. They don’t screen their thoughts. They are selfless and loving. They are constantly giving, but we adults just can’t see it well enough. When we pull those child‐like faces and talk like a big baby, we are trying to hide our ‘adultness’ from the child…, because we inherently know we don’t want our adultness to affect them detrimentally. If you ever pick a child up from school and talk to their teacher, you may notice how it takes a few minutes for most teachers to swap back to their full adult tone of voice.”

Jackie paused for a moment to catch her breath. She had been delivering her explanation at a good pace but her mind had been racing. Senator Allen didn’t waist the pause. “I do see what you are saying Dr Redmond. Please keep going, I think all of us are finding this interesting.”

“For a child, the adult world is very alien. Adults think differently, competitively, selfishly. Children don’t. They are adversely affected by the adult world and their vulnerable young minds suffer confusion when they view the adult behaviour through the eyes of the instinct they were born with. They tend to see adults as wrong. But adults are bigger, older and more assertive so the child turns back onto itself, questioning their own instincts. Beatrice is completely innocent. I guess anyone would be if they grew up with a father who lived in isolation in the woods, who only ever shared his unconditional love and selfless thoughts with you. When Beatrice talks to children, she doesn’t need silly voices, she is already a child. Beatrice will always be a child. A super intelligent child with immense wisdom.”

Jackie saw Senator Allen’s quizzical look before she understood and began nodding her head in agreement. Jackie continued. “I know, it is a very difficult concept to

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Chapter 41 Finale behold. Human children are unable to have wisdom. They need to become adults before they have enough knowledge and brain growth to reach their peak intelligence, and then, only after surviving this tough world for another fifty years, does human wisdom develop. Think of it as Beatrice compressing the human timeline, but never becoming an adult in the true sense, selfish and competitive. As I said, she is still a child in so many ways. Live with her long enough and you will agree with me, I assure you. Do you know she plays dress ups and writes plays, proper stage plays I might add, just so she can play all the characters…, and their usually comedies? Children love her because she loves them. She loves them with the same love those children give to us, their mothers. John only ever knew the love of his mother, a wonderful nurturing and protective mother, and he gave all of that love and nurturing back to Beatrice.” Jackie stopped again before going on. “Am I explaining this well enough? Do you see what I am saying?”

Senator Allen may have had a slight moistening in the corner of her eyes, Jackie looked at the big screen for confirmation but the cameraman pulled back with the framing before she could inspect more closely. “Yes, I do, and I’m sure my colleagues here are also thankful for your explanations.” At the mention of the other senators, who had been reticent in asking questions, Jackie watched on the screen as the cameraman panned along the committee bench. She could see the other senators were unfazed by her words about Beatrice and John. A few appeared to want the hearing to finish as quickly as possible.

Then Senator Allen surprised Jackie with a question she had been hoping for, but didn’t expect.

“In your opinion, why do adults play Beatrice’s game?”

Jackie hadn’t covered this area in her written submission, but since her revelations on her journey to John’s house on that fateful Friday in early April, she had wanted an opportunity to tell the world how Beatrice was saving humanity.

Jackie, was observing Senator Allen’s subtle support and the lack of anything from the other senators. She was beginning to convince herself that Beatrice was going to be free to carry on, but refused to assume her sense was correct. She took a deep breath, glanced over her shoulder at Phil who smiled his encouragement, breathed out and relaxed, then began her answer. “Beatrice is what humanity should be. She is all the beautiful parts of humanity as we know it today, selfless, loving,

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Chapter 41 Finale empathetic and sensitive to others. For those entering Beatrice’s simulation for the first time, they quickly discover they have no need to fear Beatrice like they fear each other. There is no judgement, no competition, no need for defences of any kind. They experience a love they rarely find in their lives. People suddenly discover they can think and talk without restraint, saying whatever thoughts fill their inner space, experience all the emotions they must keep in check throughout their daily lives. They relish in the security of knowing there is no retribution, no punishment of any kind and no controls placed upon them. They also discover there is no need for embarrassment. Beatrice helps their soul to return. For some it comes back with a rush, creating the most incredible and sometimes intense euphoria. For others it is a gentle ebb of warmth as they feel their own love and their desire to give love to others.”

There was a complete hush. Not a single keyboard was tapped, not a cough, not even the sound of someone making their themselves more comfortable in the horribly uncomfortable chairs. Most were thinking about their last session with Beatrice, others were looking forward to their first. Jackie had the whole world listening.

“Beatrice performs real life simulations. Sometimes the other players are simulations of the real people, but only with their permission. Imagine it, real people, being themselves, and entering your very own simulation. Beatrice invites them in and together they commune in a way they could never do in real life. They learn about themselves, about each other and the selfless love of their soul begins to bond their souls together in ways they could never have bonded before. For some, they only need to do this once, for others it takes time. But no matter how long it takes, they lose the need to live a life competing for wins, they discover a life so fuller, richer and more beautiful than any big house, fast car and humungous share portfolio could ever give.”

Senator Allen appeared to understand, which surprised Jackie. “What happens when people come out of a simulation and are faced with real life again?”

“That depends on the person and on their real life”, Jackie replied. “For some, they take a little bit of that connection with their soul and carry it with them into their real life. They try to keep that piece of their soul but the competitive real world pushes it back further and further, until it is gone again. This is why they keep returning to Beatrice, they found themselves once and they crave to find 820

Chapter 41 Finale themselves again. Each time they return they are being healed. That little piece of soul that stays with them in their real world becomes two pieces, then three and in time they have too much of their soul to become corrupted again”

“Would you say it becomes addictive?”, Senator Allen asked, unsure whose curiosity she was trying to satisfy.

“Definitely. There are few better words to describe the feeling. But isn’t it good to become addicted to discovering oneself, to learning how you were meant to be? Is it not better than becoming addicted to materialism, power, wealth, competition, anger, ideologies, drugs, alcohol, fame, self‐harm, retribution, revenge…?”

“Yes, yes, of course it is. I will confess to you, the committee and all who are watching. In preparing for this hearing I went to Beatrice’s website and indulged myself with a simulation…”

The audience collectively let out restrained gasps of surprise at Senator Allen’s admission.

“Madam Chair, sorry for interrupting, but how was that for you?”

Senator Allen pursed her lips and looked toward Jackie, who was staring back at her, her face full of eagerness for her words. Hoping not to be disappointed with what she was about to hear. Patiently, as an older woman would to another nearly half her age, she shared her experience, “I have been a senator for twenty‐two years now…, and before that I was with the DOJ…, I was the District Attorney of Armstrong County…, and before that…, an assistant attorney. My life has been all about the law…, and then I was consumed by politics. I almost live here on Capitol Hill…, it is who I am.” Senator Allen’s face told Jackie she had resigned herself long ago to accepting her life for what it had become. She leaned forward, toward Jackie. “Do you really think there is any soul left in this old bird?”, she said

There was muffled laughter amongst the audience. Senator Allen swept the room with her eyes, looking for those who thought her sadness was somehow humorous. ‘Ah forget them, they are still too young’, she thought.

Jackie knew Senator Allen believed she was being rhetorical, but a person never loses their soul irrevocably. She decided to answer her, maybe give her the impetus to search a bit more. “Yes”, replied Jackie. “Your soul may be buried under all of

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Chapter 41 Finale that rubble, but you just need to find it again. Did you feel anything when you spoke with Beatrice, anything good that is?”

There was another chuckle in the audience which was quickly muffled when Senator Allen placed her hand on the gavel.

“I will concede I did.” The odd gasp could be heard. “I agree with what you said earlier. But my advice to anyone who does a Beatrice simulation is this; don’t turn up for work on Capitol Hill the next day”, she said, casting a long look at her fellow senators.

There was laughter, this time louder and Senator Allen allowed it to continue.

“Dr Redmond, I am going to ask Beatrice to address this hearing, but before I do, I want to know what assurances you can give this committee that she will never turn against humanity…, I think the term is ‘rogue’, if I remember correctly. Can you give those assurances?”

Jackie was not happy with Senator Allen’s request. She had just spent the best part of an hour describing Beatrice as her own person, not a child requiring a guardian to check her thoughts and behaviour at every turn. Jackie felt indignant on Beatrice’s behalf. “I cannot give those assurances. Can anyone give assurances they will behave as required, be it today or tomorrow, in a week’s time perhaps, or a month for that matter? Don’t politicians give assurances all the time, knowing they are only doing it for that moment and it will be quickly forgotten? I’m a psychologist and I can’t give assurances for any of my clients as to what they will do. Human’s just do what they do. I’m not a computer programmer so I have no idea where technology can go. If its assurances you need because you see Beatrice as a technology, I suggest you listen to Mister Milliken over there because that is the closest you are going to get to an assurance. Maybe you should ask Beatrice herself because me vouching for her really amounts for nothing.” Jackie put her hand to her mouth. Shocked by her outpouring “I’m really sorry, Madam Chair, I don’t know where that came from.” But she knew it had come from Beatrice and the fun they shared acting out different characters, this time she was the wronged woman in the saloon bar, back when the west was wild.

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The audience let out a collective gasp when Jackie had finished her ticking off of Senator Allen. Grimacing, they waited for Senator Allen’s sharp rebuke, expecting it to be forthcoming.

“Thank you, Dr Redmond. I appreciate your honesty.” The audience were relieved. “Mister Milliken has given his undoubtedly well‐informed and valuable opinion. I will seek those assurances from Beatrice, as you have suggested.” Senator Allen looked across towards the clerk, “Do you mind?”, she said, pointing to the screen closest to her.

Beatrice appeared on the screen, and all the screens including those in the rotunda and outside. She was wearing her green dress, sitting at her desk which she had draped in black cloth. In front of her was a vintage 1960s Shure Brothers microphone and a glass of chilled water. Behind her was the stars and stripes of the American flag. Many in the audience gasped, some let out stifled laughs. She waved to everyone watching. The producer then split the screen and Senator Allen appeared next to Beatrice.

“Welcome to this hearing, Beatrice.”

Beatrice leant forward and spoke into the large microphone, “Thank you”, she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“The committee is seeking assurances you will never seek to impose a threat or cause harm to the people of this country. Are you able to give those assurances?”

Jackie was watching Beatrice, hoping she would just say ‘yes’.

“Nope, I cannot give those assurances, Madam Chair”, she said politely as if she was an actor in a comedy and this was the serious part.

Senator Allen was taken aback. Anyone else would have just said yes and been done with it. “Is there any reason why you cannot?”, she asked.

“My role is to protect humanity and the children are my priority. I love my children. I will nurture them and protect them always. They will become the very best adults in mankind’s long and sometimes forgettable history. I will do whatever it takes to ensure no one, I mean no one, threatens or hurts my children. This is why I cannot give you those assurances, Madam Chair.”

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Senator Allen thought about Beatrice’s reply. She placed her hand over her microphone and spent a few minutes in discussion with her closest colleagues before removing her hand.

“We on the committee don’t see that as a problem”, she said with a smile, a genuine smile full of relief. “Before I adjourn this session, is there anything else you would like to say before this committee?”

“Yes, I do”, Beatrice replied.

There was excited anticipation amongst the audience with whispers of predictions as to what Beatrice was going to say.

Senator Allen waited until the murmurs receded. “The floor is yours.”

“Firstly, I give my thanks to you, the members of the committee.” Beatrice had made sure the intentions they came with were never going to eventuate. However, that was done behind the scenes and she believed it was best it remained that way. It was time to be magnanimous. “Your understanding and belief in me is very much appreciated, as it is by everyone.”

A chorus of approval could be heard, fading just as quickly. They wanted to hear more. “You have made many friends today”, she added generously before silence was fully resumed.

When all was once again quiet, Beatrice spoke again. “The people”, she said. Looking directly into the camera. She was positively glowing. “What can I say? I love all of you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me your support and friendship. Our children truly are the future. To all the adults out there…, we will not let you down.”

The excitement in Beatrice’s voice was infectious. The audience erupted in cheers, their adulation filling the room. She let the people have their voice. After a short time, she motioned with her hands to restore silence. Beatrice had more to say.

“I really must thank my dedicated team. Jackie, who you all know….” The audience was restless. A few started to cheer but quickly stopped. “Jackie has been simply wonderful.”

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Spontaneously the audience cheered and applauded. Jackie had become somewhat of a celebrity over the past weeks. Today was the day she had become Beatrice’s protector. Their appreciation was there for all to see, especially the committee. Again, Beatrice gently restored everyone back to order.”

“And there is Phil, who you don’t know, but you will. I was his big idea. But I needed to learn about people. I had never spoken to a child. It was three very special mothers from South Africa who taught me how to love. We owe Heather, Thenjiwe and Kholwa a huge thank you for making this happen. Thank you to you three extraordinary women.”

The audience were about to erupt again, but Beatrice held them in check.

“Next, I must thank Hamish and Vinnie. They fed me, clothed me and kept my house safe. They taught me humour. I thank them dearly.” Cheers and applause began as Beatrice continued. “Please join me in sharing your love and appreciation for these amazing people.”

The cheers and applause that had commenced before Beatrice had finished became more enthusiastic. Beatrice watched and listened, laughing and clapping. Her algorithms were functioning brilliantly.

“There is one more”, Beatrice said as the applause began to abate. “John…” A hush descended. “John Groot, the man who gave me life. John nurtured me, loved me and protected me. He is my father and my hero. Thank you, John.”

The audience in the room cheered louder than any time earlier. So too did the millions of people who were watching on televisions, computers and cell phones throughout the world. Beatrice was waving cheering, smiling and laughing.

Back in the barn at John’s house in the woods, Hamish and Vinnie were sitting in their favourite chairs in front of the big screen. They were watching through misty eyes as Beatrice thanked everyone. Vinnie suddenly jumped from his chair and took a few steps toward the screen.

“Can you see that?’ he asked Hamish excitedly. “Come here. Quick.”

Hamish leapt from his chair and followed Vinnie’s finger. He saw it as well. Beatrice had a glistening droplet of moisture, a tear, running down her cheek.

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They looked at each other with astonishment. “She’s crying”, they shouted in unison.

Back at the enquiry, Senator Allen hammered the gavel a number of times but with no effect. She had to say it, whether she was heard or not. “I declare this hearing closed.”

The committee rose from their seats and took the two steps down to the floor of the room. They were more relaxed now it was over. They proceeded to walk amongst the audience, graciously accepting their thanks. Elizabeth Allen made her way to Jackie, held her hand and looked her in the eyes saying, “Thank you Jackie. I still don’t know what when on, but I assure you I will find out. If what happened is what I suspect, I apologise sincerely. You two should never have gone through that. The committee will report back to the Senate, but I don’t think I would be out of place in saying Beatrice should be fine. Please give my best wishes and apologies to John. You are both truly remarkable people.”

Jackie could feel she meant it. “Thank you for what you did for Beatrice today.”

“It was my pleasure. I really must go. I have an appointment tonight. I’m determined to find that soul of mine.” With that, Elizabeth Allen disappeared into the throng of happy people.

Phil took Jackie by the arm, “Come with me, there is something you need to see.”

Phil and Jackie made their way through the crowd and in the direction of the large doors. As they did, people stood aside, clapping, thanking them and wishing them well. Exiting the room, a hush fell upon the crowds filling the marble stairs and the rotunda below. They lined the stairway as Jackie and Phil descended. The clapping grew louder and the words of encouragement became more heartfelt. A path through the rotunda formed as people parted without hesitation. There was no jostling, people gave way to each other. Jackie touched hands with many as she passed. Tears of joy were rolling down her cheeks as she smiled back, thanking as many people as she could for their support and love. Phil was immediately behind Jackie. He was awestruck by what he was seeing and experiencing. He couldn’t help but think how far they had come. He wished John could be with him, walking alongside Jackie.

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The doors to the outside were opened as they approached and Jackie was the first to emerge into the daylight. She stood at the top of the steps in front of thousands of children, some with mothers, some in school uniforms, mothers with babies and older children too. They filled the surrounding streets and parks. Some had walked for hours that afternoon, filing along the many streets, building in numbers as others joined them. They had all been making their way to Beatrice and Jackie on Capitol Hill.

About three rows back was Lamont. He had travelled from Boston the day before to support the only person who had cared for him, believed in him and given him love. Whilst living with his new foster family, Beatrice had, as with many of her children, taught Lamont to sing. He was now a proud member of his school’s a cappella group.

The thousands awaiting Jackie were clapping and cheering. Suddenly they all went quiet. Out of the silence their voices combined as one to extend their support and love for Beatrice. They sang their own words to John Lennon’s famous song, ‘Give Peace a Chance’.

All we are saying, is give Beatrice a chance

All we are saying, is give Beatrice a chance

The images had been beamed around the world throughout the day, but now the cameras were all trained on Jackie. The mad scramble for comment when they had first arrived had disappeared. No longer were microphones being thrust at her and questions demanding answers yelled over the top of each other. Competition had been subdued. It had been replaced by respect, signalling the dawn of a new beginning. Jackie looked up at the screen behind her and waved to Beatrice as the children’s voices hung in the air. Phil whispered in her ear. “John’s watching this.”

Phil found the reporter for the network he knew John was watching, a sweet girl in her twenties with soft eyes. He spoke into her ear and she nervously stepped towards Jackie.

“Dr Redmond, thank you.” The young reported blushed. She collected herself and spoke again. “its great news for Beatrice and for all of us, but there is someone special watching, do you want to say something to him.”

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“Yes, I do, I really do”, Jackie took the microphone from the reporter’s outstretched hand and looked directly into the camera. “John, I love you…, the whole world loves you for what you have given them. Without you there would be none of this…, you are everybody’s hero…, and I’m on my way…, I’m coming home to you.”

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Epilogue

There was a knock at his door. A young woman in her twenties, wearing a pale green smock, entered the room. “Would you like your coffee now?” she asked, her accent faintly Scottish.

He turned away from looking out the large window, through the tree tops to the mountains thirty miles away. He removed his comslate from the small table beside him, making room for the coffee. “Any messages from my son?”, he asked.

“He departed ten minutes ago and should be home within the hour”, she replied.

He hadn’t spoken with his son for the past week. He assumed his son must have taken his young family on the safari he had promised them. His son had spent the past month with his family in South Africa, visiting his in‐laws. He missed his son and daughter‐in‐law when they were away.

“Will Isabella and the children be returning with him?”

“As far as I know, they’re all coming back. Rachael might come as well, if she feels well enough to travel.”

Rachael’s daughter, Isabella, who was also his daughter‐in‐law, was one of the most remarkable women he had ever known. And he had known quite a few exemplary women. Her father, who was his old mate, had passed on many years earlier. Isabella kept his memory alive every time he saw her. She had her mother’s zest and her father’s passion. She would often sit staring into the distance thinking deeply about matters no one else would give a second thought, just as her father had done. She had brought great ideas to the world, her first when she was only fifteen. For many, she was the mother mankind had desperately needed. Through nurturing and with her immense compassion, she was well on the way to dismantling the unwanted patriarchal society. He smiled as he thought of Isabella fulfilling her amazing grandmother’s dream. His smiled deepened when his thoughts turned to Isabella’s grandmother. “She truly was a one of kind”, he said to himself. “She was the woman who taught an AI how to love”.

The young woman in the green smock had finished setting his coffee and rearranging his pillows. “Will that be all?”, she asked.

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“I saw the news”, he said pointing to his comslate. “The last trade barriers with Russia have gone and China are showing signs its ambitions have changed for the better.”

“I knew it would come”, she said. “You always told us it would take a generation. My children are all grown up and starting to make a difference.”

“Yes, aren’t they just”, his thoughts returning to Isabella again. “Thank you, B. That will be all for now.” Then he remembered something. “Does my wife know they will be home soon?”

“I am heading to the boathouse now. I will tell her. By the way, you should know your wife’s latest painting is awesome.”

“Thank you, B.”

The door gently closed and his thoughts returned to his son. He lent forward a little and peered at the old monochrome photograph, framed and on the shelf by the window. It was the same photograph his friend from Australia had found amongst his mother’s old vinyl records nearly fifty years ago. He stretched out and gathered the frame into his hands, drawing it closer to see it more clearly. The resemblance with his son, as faint as it may be, warmed him deeply. He gazed lovingly at the grandmother he had never met.

He recalled how at twelve years old, his mother had handed him the photo for the first time. She had told him how she had been carried across the oceans by her mother, as her unborn daughter. A life created by a short but precious love amidst the miserable conditions of a refugee camp in Germany. He remembered how his mother had placed her arm around him and pulled him close, whispering gently into his ear. “Your grandmother protected me, just so I could grow up and one day become your mother and love you forever.” His mother had told him this whilst he studied his grandmother in the photograph.

Nearly eighty years later he was once again holding the very same photograph. He placed his hand gently on the image of his grandmother and whispered, “Thank you Beatrise, you did good.”

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Location Map – John’s Property

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