Authors: Alexander Hammond
PROOF
The interview hadn’t been going as planned, in fact she was nowhere near to making the progress she’d hoped or expected. People relied on her to probe and get the facts, a task that normally came to her with the ease of breathing, but not today. She didn’t consider herself cruel or unfeeling but she was prepared to be brutal in her search for the truth. She’d made heads of state take moments of pause under the onslaught of her interrogations. At the relatively youthful age of twenty-nine she had not only a huge and devoted readership but also a Pulitzer Prize in her pocket, confirmation that she knew what she was doing.
She hadn’t wanted the assignment. She was more used to crossing swords with the likes of Obama or Putin as opposed to this smiling new age charlatan sat in front of her. Despite her protestations, her paper had insisted; this man had acquired millions of devotees in recent years and was clearly a social phenomenon that demanded investigation, and as she was the best, she’d been chosen. She considered this as she toyed with her ‘lucky’ pendant underneath her blouse as Bob answered one of her more acerbic questions.
“This suite?” laughed the man gesturing around. “Actually your paper booked and paid for it. It’s rather nice isn’t it? A bit gauche for my taste but, I’ve got to admit…the room service is rather good. Can I get you anything?”
She regarded him bleakly, aware that another of her questions designed to expose this man had failed. The paper could have told her, she thought bitterly. Still, as the true professional that she was, she pressed on. “You don’t look very much like a guru to me,” she snapped.
“I never said I was,” her subject responded.
“You’ve sold several million books telling people how they should live their lives and how they should think,” she snapped. “How can you know what’s best for people?”
Bobs smile didn’t move. “Have you read my books?” he asked quietly. As quick as a flash she responded. “Of course, I do my research.”
“Then you’ll know,” Bob continued, “I don’t ‘tell’ anyone anything; I merely make suggestions that people are free to acknowledge or ignore. It’s all about free will you see. My objective is to help people to achieve what they really want, and I know what that is.”
“Isn’t that arrogant presumption?” she pressed.
“Not really,” he responded. “It’s a very easy thing to know. For example, I know exactly what you want in your life.” He let the comment hang in the air. She was too professional to be drawn but Bob was unintimidated by her silence.
“It’s so easy,” he said, “You want what everyone wants. Happiness.”
The simplicity and the truth of his answer momentarily fazed her. Before she had a chance to say anything Bob pressed on. “You see Charlotte…you don’t mind if I call you Charlotte do you? You think I’m a fake and I con people out of money. That’s why you’re here today. You don’t care about my work, and that’s just fine, but I can’t be a fake because I’ve never claimed to be anything. I’ve no organisation behind me, no fawning assistants or poorly produced cable TV telethons. I earn my income from the sale of my books, and most of that goes to those with less than me; I just keep enough to live on.”
Unimpressed by his well-delivered monologue, she continued her questioning. “That’s all very well but your book makes it out to be so easy. You’re giving people false hopes about achieving happiness and by trivialising real life. There are no easy fixes, and you’re conning money out of the people who buy your books to believe that there are.” This time she knew she’d get a reaction and she was right.
Bob burst out laughing. “My God Charlotte, you are angry aren’t you? To you life is a very serious business and that’s just great. You believe all this crap you see around you is real. You know, the only reality is emotion; the rest of it’s just made up. We let it influence the way we feel about stuff. What was it you just said? ‘There are no quick fixes.’ You seem very sure. I happen to disagree with you.”
“You’re an act,” Charlotte offered unkindly. “You say you’re not a guru, which is simply reverse psychology. You may dress in Gap pants and have a ten buck haircut but there’s no difference between you and those overweight Indian swamis with their flowing hair and orange robes. You’ve created a cult around your lightweight philosophical psychobabble to extract money from the very people who need to keep hold of it.”
“Wow, that’s quite a speech,” He chuckled. “Let’s see if I understand this properly. I don’t look or dress like a guru…therefore I must be one. OK, that’s a novel way of looking at things. I also take money from people who need to keep hold of it. I take it by this you mean that the more money they have the happier they’ll be. Am I right?” She nodded her affirmation. “My books cost around twenty bucks,” he continued. “Hardly a life or death amount. Money does not and never will bring happiness, and you are most certainly intelligent enough to know that. I admit it can help to ease the way, but it’s only a tool as are all things in this place you call reality.”
“There you go again,” she challenged. “Psychobabble!
‘In this place you call reality?’
You’re making hot air sound like hard sense.”
“Only because you don’t understand what I’m saying,” he snapped back equally sharply. His tone surprised her. At first she thought she’d pierced his well presented façade, but there was something in his eyes that told her his response was less obviously motivated. He immediately grinned at her. “Didn’t expect me to get grouchy did you? Not very guru like is it? Or maybe it’s just a double bluff…you know…that reverse psychology you were talking about.”
She fingered her lucky pendant again as she considered her response. As she began to formulate her next question, her subject reached over to a table next to him, selected a beer and took a long slug from it. “Yes I drink alcohol but you’ll be glad to know I’ve given up smoking and I do occasionally have sex, though generally I feel it’s something best left to experts, don’t you?” She couldn’t suppress a childish giggle. “You’ve got a great smile,” he said expansively. “With the reputation you’ve got I thought my balls would be on the carpet by now. I must be fighting my corner quite well.”
Unable to resist she smiled back at him. “You’re nothing like I expected,” she admitted. “But I still think you talk crap.”
“I know you do,” he replied gently. “But are you open to a few concepts?”
“Why not?” she said. “My readers will be curious.”
“And you’re not?” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Right,” he continued. “Where shall I start? Oh yes...reality…that old hot potato. You look at the Earth and the universe as reality. I don’t. My experience is that our emotions are reality and the rest of it is just self-created details. A tableau if you like, to play out our games on, games that have got to seem real for them to have any purpose, i.e. to experience the emotions that make us what we are. We’ve done a very good job of this, there’s balance everywhere. For every up there’s a down and for every hot there’s a cold. You do believe in balance don’t you?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she responded carefully.
“For all this to appear real, it has to be balanced. Without hot, cold wouldn’t mean anything. Without poor, rich wouldn’t mean anything…do you see what I mean? She nodded. “It’s even the same with language,” he continued. “After all language is just a way of vocalising this manifestation of what you call reality. Every statement someone makes has an opposite…do you agree?”
“Well…I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” she replied.
“Let me give you an example,” he continued. “If I said, ‘The cat is black’ the opposite is ‘The cat is not black,’ with me so far?” She gave him a withering look.
“Just testing,” he said with a grin. “OK, let’s take the comment
Nothing Unreal Exists
. First of all, do you believe this to be a true and accurate statement?
She thought for a moment and replied “Of course.”
“Good.” he said. “Now give me the opposite.
“In that case,” she said, “It would be
Everything unreal exists
.”
He laughed at her. “That can’t be right. My comment is a truism, but yours isn’t, is it? To make it the exact opposite. i.e. to really balance it, it’s got to be not only the opposite of what I say but also be a truism, you see?”
“Oh I see,” she said. “Err let me think for a moment. OK, then it would be ‘
Everything real doesn’t exist’
. Oh…now…wait a minute…that doesn’t make sense. That’s not a truism either. Hold on…let me think about this. Hold on, it’s got to be just
Nothing Real Exists.
No that’s doesn’t work either.”
“It’s an interesting conundrum, isn’t it? It doesn’t make sense, unless you look at what the definition of ‘real’ actually is. If you look at both statements they’re saying nothing real
or
unreal actually exists. It’s a paradox or what I call a signpost,” He said with satisfaction.
“A signpost?” she said with some confusion.
“Yes,” he continued. “I know that at another level we actually know we’ve created all this and we’ve left ourselves little signposts along the way to show us that it can’t be real and to show ourselves the way home. Look at pi for example. It recurs indefinitely so it’s an infinitely big number at yet in terms of size it’s quantifiable. It shouldn’t happen but it does. Another paradox. The universe is replete with examples; I could go on all afternoon.”
“Look, this is fascinating dinner table conversation but where does it take us?” Charlotte blurted out with some frustration, “Because of a linguistic quirk and a mathematical anomaly I’m supposed to believe in your stories?”
He laughed again that wonderful rich deep laugh of his, “Of course not, but I wanted to see if you’d take the bait.”
“What bait? She asked.
“If you need to ask that then this conversation has been a waste of time,” he replied with mock solemness.
“OK OK,” she came back, “I’m intrigued…but what now? I…I mean my readers, need more to even start believing.”
“Believing?” he said distractedly. “Oh no, that would never do. You’ve got to ‘know’ not just to ‘believe’. The very word ‘belief’ implies the possibility of whatever it is not being true. You’ve got to ‘know’ before you’re able to convince other people.”
“But to know what Bob?” she responded, agitated. “What is it you’re trying to tell people?”
“That they are capable of anything,” he replied. “That they control their world and not the other way around. That they have the solutions to the life events they call problems. That their happiness depends not on the events and circumstances of their life but the way they relate to those self created phantoms.”
“And this is your fundamental belief is it?” Charlotte replied, trying to keep an edge of sarcasm out of her voice.
“No, not at all, it’s not belief,” he chuckled, “I know; I’ve seen it; I talk with empirical knowledge. I wouldn’t be this arrogant otherwise. To do what I do you’ve got to ‘know’ not just ‘believe.’”
“So what do you know? What have you experienced that we haven’t?” pressed the Pulitzer Prize winner, aware that there was a real story now developing. “How can you prove it?”
Bob took a deep breath. “You want proof? Proof that all that we see is an illusion? The Earth, the universe, time and space?”
“It would make a hell of an article,” she admitted. “Are you going to show me a miracle?”
“I’m going to show you something that you would call a miracle, but once you understand it you’ll see it’s not a miracle but a completely natural event. Do you want me to do this? He murmured. She was surprised at the depth of his sincerity.
“Of course,” she replied. “I’m a journalist. I seek out the truth. Do your worst”
“Actually,” he said brightly. “I’ll try to do my best. Show me that pendant you’ve been fiddling around with.” Surprised that he’d noticed, she reached behind her neck, unclipped it and pulled it from beneath her blouse and handed it to him.
He held it in the palm of his hand and considered it intensely for almost a full minute. “You know I gave this to you,” he said finally.
“What?” she replied. “What are you talking about?”
“I gave this to you. It was your eighth birthday and you were in Disney World in Florida with your parents. You tripped and grazed your knee. You were crying and your parents were trying to console you, when a man came over dressed in an orange robe. You thought he looked really strange because he had long black hair but a white bushy beard. He asked your parents if everything was all right and when they told him it was, he reached into his robe and pulled out this pendant and told you. “This is a special pendant for birthday girls who are brave enough to stop crying when they’ve hurt themselves. If you keep it with you it will bring you luck”
She went white and her jaw dropped. “How the hell did you know that? I’ve never told anyone that.”
With great ceremony Bob got up and went to one of the drawers in the locker next to his bed. He slid the drawer open and pulled out the only three things inside. An orange robe, a longhaired black wig and a false white beard.
Charlotte suddenly felt unwell. “That isn’t funny. I don’t like being made a fool out of and this is really sick. It couldn’t have been you anyway, because you’re nowhere near old enough.”
“Feel your neck,” Bob urged. She did so. The pendant was back there. She felt faint.
Suddenly he was right besides her. “Don’t worry Charlotte, it’s OK, really it is. This isn’t a trick, and deep down inside you know that. You’ve never told that story to anyone, have you? You parents are both dead so they couldn’t have told me. When I took the pendant from you a moment ago I just popped back to Disney World and gave it to you. You were standing close to
Pirates of the Caribbean
at the time weren’t you? Of course it’s easier for me to remember because I was only just there.”
She felt the room spinning. This had to be a huge pre planned trick. Bob couldn’t know these things. “How did you get changed so quickly?” she said quietly. He smiled at her. “Time is not how you believe it to be. I changed before I left and changed when I got back in the time you thought you saw me looking at the pendant. It doesn’t matter how right now, what does matter is that you’ve seen a demonstration of what I’ve been talking about.”