The first time Harry met the curious engineers was in a penthouse suite at a casino resort.
“Tell me, Mister Wilson,” asked Max, “do you
believe in ghosts?”
What an
odd question, thought Harry. “It would
depend on what you mean by believe. Is
belief assured knowledge? Or do you mean
belief as a hoped-for situation? I know
people who believe in the Tooth Fairy.”
“I
admire precision,” nodded Max. “The
continuity of the soul, the essence of self-awareness continuing in time. Yes?”
Harry
rose and went to the bar. He found, and
poured, a single malt scotch, neat. If
nothing else, Snead knew how to stock a bar.
“I would defer to the conservation of energy. Energy can change form, be used, but can’t be
destroyed. The life force, energy, must
continue. Perhaps altered, but existing
none-the-less.”
“I
believe Max means consciousness, self-awareness,” added Junior. “Does consciousness follow the law of energy
conservation, in your opinion?”
“I don’t
know enough to have an opinion since you put it like that,” confessed
Harry. “I’ve studied consciousness, but
consciousness is considered a product of chemical processes in the brain. I don’t think that’s what you mean.”
“The
brain is a machine,” stated Max. “Tell
me, Mister Wilson, are you an honorable man?”
Another
curious question, noted Harry. “Am I
honest with myself and others? Yes. When I’m wrong, I change my mind, rather than
attempt to change everything else to suit me.”
Max and
Junior finished their vodka, exchanged expressions, and stepped towards another
room. “Excuse us, please,” said Junior
as they entered the other room and closed the door. Harry finished his scotch and returned the
glass to the bar. He went to the window.
Snead
had a point. What better place to hold a
discreet meeting than the top floor of a controlled environment? Everyone else is busy and casino security
tracks everyone, at least in the gaming areas.
Throw in a partnership with a discreet organization or perhaps the
government and - voila – an accessible luxury safe house.
Suppose
he was standing in such a place right now.
What did it mean? What was Harry
Wilson doing here? Why was he here? Well, that much he knew. When Snead called the second time he reminded
Harry of the activation clause in his contract.
The government could, under circumstances, invoke his service ad
hoc. Translation: Go voluntarily or go in handcuffs, but to the
meeting ye shall go! Harry recalled that
clause.
