The Kaleidoscope (33 page)

Rhashan and Leesa were behind him, and those seated scooted to make room for more chairs. Harold filled them in on how the hearing had gone.

“We’re delighted to know the courts smiled upon you.” Rhashan’s split-toothed smile bathed Walter in genuine warmth. “And thank you for including us in this celebration. If I could also add, my lovely wife has just learned her thesis was accepted, and she will be receiving her master’s degree.”

They clapped, and congratulated Leesa. Harold ordered a bottle of champagne.

“What is your degree in?” Father asked when the waiter had left.

Leesa’s brow furrowed. “As a man of the cloth, you may not approve.”

“Please.” He spread out a palm. “Tell me. I find all areas of academic study intriguing.”

“I specialize in crystal mythologies.” Leesa snapped apart her chopsticks. “Specifically how cultures manifest their religious beliefs on naturally occurring minerals.”

The priest nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been an armchair mineralogist for years. I’ve long been intrigued by how our natural beings blend with the Lord’s creation in all aspects.” His long fingers described a sphere over a heap of egg foo yung. “Inseparable, and mysteriously connected.”

Pepper indicated the ’scope. “Leesa helped Harry figure out what Walter put in the Kaleidoscope. The diamond, the computer chip.”

All heads turned as one.

“May I?” Father Tucker wiped his hands on a napkin, and gingerly picked it up.

“Your ’scope is now a key piece of evidence, Father,” Stan told him. “Sorry, but you may never get it back.”

“Of course I’ll make you another.” Walter glanced at the clergyman, who nodded. “I’ll need some more of the glass pieces. And of course it will be simply a looking device. No computer chips.”

The priest aimed at the plate glass window to the street. The morning’s marine layer had rolled back and the light was brilliant. Shoppers flowed past, waves of cars a riptide toward the city’s center of commerce. Father twirled and stopped, then spun the dial again. “Breathtaking. The colors are gorgeous.” He lowered it enough to catch Walter’s eye. “It will be a cherished memento, especially after the church is torn down.”

His comment twinged sadness deep inside Harold.

Walter nodded, filled in the others. “We’d experienced hail damage from a freaky pop-up storm. Several of the panes were shattered, so Father allowed me to use some of the glass in the ’scopes.”

Pepper reached for Harold’s hand and squeezed. He knew what her urgency meant. “The Good Shepherd panel?” Harold squeaked. From his pew at the back, he’d admired the image of Jesus leading his sheep during Mass. The stunning art prodded a corner of his soul he’d long suppressed.

“That’s right.” Father lifted the ’scope and studied the images again. “It’s like a bit of the holiness has been captured in here, alive and eternal.” He handed the treasure back.

All sound receded; the papered walls wavered and wobbled in Harold’s frame of vision.

Pepper’s eyes met his. “Is it possible?” she whispered.

“Dad.” The name caught in Harold’s throat. The first time he’d called Walter the name. He coughed, embarrassed at using the unfamiliar term, but Walter only smiled at him. Harold sipped his water, began again. “Dad, is it possible that the powers…”

Pepper finished for him. “Is it possible that the glass from the window provides the extra boost of powers you couldn’t identify?”

Her choice of words embarrassed Harold, but Walter didn’t flinch.

“What I still don’t understand is how the parts work together to make the whole,” Pepper wanted to know. “What do all the pieces do to work together…how?”

“If I may? I did some more research.” Leesa leaned forward so she could see Walter. “Isn’t it possible that the process of preparing the glass for the window suffused minerals into the glass?”

“Stained glass isn’t just normal glass dyed different colors.” Father Tucker spread his hands wide. “The process has been developed over thousands of years. You can’t just put any old dye in and expect it to remain vibrant and true, so artists fuse in metallic salts.”

“Silica?” Harold readied to hear their “ahas.” He leaned back, satisfied. “Of course, that explains it. A scientific explanation.”

“Listen to what they’re saying though.” Pepper tapped his temple. “Open your mind.”

Father Tucker went on. “There are many accounts attributing supernatural powers to gems, glass, minerals.”

“Not so fast. You’re in the business of miracles, Father.” Harold threw down his napkin. “The definition of a miracle is that it’s rare. And we all know that silica is used for everyday things. Not supernatural at all.”

“Gem lore is an entire branch of study.” Leesa went on, undeterred. “Diamonds, for an example, can drive away madness, protect against ghosts, chimeras, enchantments, and sorcery.”

Harold sighed loudly. “Your woo-woo theories don’t hold water. Besides, the glass isn’t naturally occurring, they’re manufactured.”

“By people.” Pepper turned when Harold squeezed her hand. He was proud of her for showing some sense in a discussion taking an absurd trail.

“Yes, but the minerals inside
are
naturally occurring. Fusing them into the glass doesn’t change their properties,” Father Tucker argued.

Walter eyed Harold. “Father, did you ever see anything unusual with your ’scope?”

Father Tucker tipped his head to the side, thoughtful. “Not that I recall. But I only had it a few days before you borrowed it for your sting operation.”

“Even if it did”—Harold was growing impatient—“I don’t concur that all this hocus-pocus has foundation. What some people call mysterious, scientists call unproven theories—”

“So what you’re saying is, the elements are there, but how they are able to perform, say by revealing our soul’s hidden mysteries, is unexplainable in scientific terms.” Pepper squirmed, first facing Leesa, then the pastor.

Traitor!
Harold shot a cautionary glance at her. “What you’re all suggesting is that by some divine process, the hand of God, so to speak, the glass and chip technology have supernatural powers. I believe, no, I insist that everything inside this”—he held up the Kaleidoscope—“is explainable by scientific means.”

Walter had grown quiet.

“What do you say?” Harold said. “What were you going for? What was your intention in inventing such an object?”

“When I began my research years ago, I was merely working on advances in artificial intelligence.” Walter paused. “Perfecting a machine that could learn from its environment. We were all trying to define what AI was going to be. And arguing over how it would affect the world.”

“How did it become this prophetic tool then?” Father leaned forward.

“It started as a device to deliver the chip, and then the other pieces became integral.” Walter lifted a shoulder, dropped it. “I’m still figuring it out myself. They became the perfect storm of scientific discoveries—”

“Aha!” Harold’s retort sounded too loud, even to him.

“And something I still can’t quite explain,” Walter went on, gaze leveled at his son.

Energized, Harold persisted in his quest to uncover the truth. “You said yourself it’s to monitor evoked brainwaves, as they’re using in neurosurgical procedures.”

“But how does it reveal the image?” Walter challenged. “Something that only God would know about the viewer. How?”

“You just going to throw it all away, and claim a deus ex machina-type miracle?”

“God as part of the machine,” Father Tucker translated Harold’s Latin.

“And nothing anyone has said explains how it shows the future.” Everyone turned to Pepper, who shrugged her slim shoulders.

“How, you say? How exactly does it work?” Walter matched Harold’s challenging gaze with his own. “Sometimes we just have to accept that science can’t explain everything, son.”

Pepper interjected, “And why would we want to?”

Harold’s brain ached. His father grew silent as the others discussed ideas and philosophies until his head spun from trying to keep up arguments against their naiveté. Even Pepper had betrayed him.

“Dad.” Harold finally had enough. It was time to ground everyone in reality. “As a man of science, you have to be the first to admit it. The others, I get their need for something out there. But not you.”

Walter reached out and took the Kaleidoscope from his son. “I can explain ninety-nine percent of what makes it work. But I can’t explain how the final pieces came to me. How exactly they work together.” He nodded at Pepper. “How it reveals our future.”

“Magic glass?” Pepper whispered.

Walter stopped running a finger up and down his creation. “From the window.”

“But you added the glass,” Harold insisted. “That can hardly be called a miracle. Just because a scientist acts on a hunch doesn’t necessarily mean it’s from God. You were in the right place. It was your thought processes that came up with the idea.”

“Explain where thought processes come from,” Father Tucker challenged.

“They’re just electric currents firing—”

“There’s something else, though,” Walter interrupted him. “Harold may have a point. I didn’t intend to design something that could reach into a person’s soul. I designed the technology that potentially could harness brain waves in a human being. By learning from induced human brainwave potential, it is possible to take AI beyond all current technology, beyond just learning from its environment. The brain mapping, the artificial intelligence, those were just an inroad to developing the next machine.”

“So this actually proves the difference between man and machine.” Harold folded his arms and leaned back in triumph.

“But how do you explain its awareness of death?” Rhashan looked at his wife, who shrugged.

“I have no idea, but it’s really more than that.” Father Tucker’s eyes were alight. “It’s really revealing a person’s innermost fears.” He faced Harold. “Brain mapping to the innermost awareness of mortality.”

“He’s right. I was afraid of death, but after the ’scope made me face it, I’m no longer afraid.” Pepper turned to Harold. “Don’t you see?”

“And I was paralyzed, afraid I’d disappoint my family once again,” Rhashan said. “Until de t’ing, it set me free.”

“I couldn’t face rejection.” It was Keith’s turn. “I was afraid I’d lose my parents’ love.”

Stan shifted to face his son, eyes brimming. They embraced, an awkward moment for Harold. He couldn’t remember ever hugging his own father.

“I stumbled upon the idea for using stimulation of the brain and knew there must be a way to access complex human thought patterns.”

“Which makes my point,” Harold argued, interrupting Walter. “The entire—”

“Wait, hold on!” Pepper palmed outstretched fingers in a time-out signal. “Us laypeople can’t follow, use words we can understand.”

Walter nodded, raised a hand before his own face. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how this is happening. I think I know. Imagine you’re looking into a mirror that not only reflects your image back at you, but can travel deep inside your brain. What if this process zeroes in on the very deepest thought that holds you back, whatever impedes you from enjoying life to the fullest?”

“Something holds everyone back.” Father Tucker nodded sagely.

“So then, when you peer into the ’scope”—Walter held it up, the copper and gold glinting in the light—“it probes your fears and reveals back to you the proof of your own existence and—”

“And makes you face your fears,” Rhashan finished for him.

“ ‘If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed,’ ” Father Tucker recited, his gaze into the middle distance.

“It
is
about faith,” Pepper whispered.

“Scientifically,” Harold insisted once again. He’d never give up on intellect over blind faith.

“Who created science?” Father Tucker challenged. “ ‘Where were you when I formed the earth?’ ” A gnarled finger pointed to the stained ceiling.

Struggling to figure out a way to convince them, to argue against the possibility they could be right, Harold picked up the ’scope. Yet he was silenced by a growing knot in his gut. What if they were right?

“So how exactly does it work, Smarty?” Pepper watched Harold weigh the object as if it in fact held all the answers. “If we’re all so wrong about it?”

“It is important to understand that. She’s correct,” Stan agreed. “Because in the wrong hands…”

“In the wrong hands, someone could be convinced of lies. They would be easily turned against truth if they were shown false images,” Walter said. “It could be contaminated with a virus, and then copied into other devices…if the images reveal repressed memories—”

“Or suggest a latent false memory, or crime committed, or that you need to take revenge,” Stan surmised. “Entire armies could be brainwashed.”

Walter nodded. “That’s why we need to guard it.”

That remark resonated with Harold. “So if it’s possible to be duplicated, then how is this device miraculous? You said it could be copied and corrupted.”

“Everything in creation has been corrupted by sin,” Father Tucker said. “That’s why we need a savior.”

A waiter refilled their glasses. No one spoke again until the server was out of hearing range.

“Can I say something?” Stan spoke more softly than usual. “Much of this is over my head, but I do know for certain that whatever happened to cause this, this Kaleidoscope, to show us things we needed to see, I’m glad it did.” He regarded his own son. “Like Pepper said, maybe sometimes the universe, or God, or whatever you choose to believe in, knows what’s better for us than we do.” Then he turned to Harold. “Whether you choose to believe in the faith part of how it works is up to you, but I think I speak for the rest of us. I believe, and I’m glad God chose Walter to create this…” He frowned, searching for the words.

“This conduit into the soul.” The priest finished. “Revealing the fears that only One can free us from.”

****

Glenda pulled on the leash toward the park. The summer evening was still warm, and Harold followed the two women in his life across the street. While the dog did her business in the grassy verge, Pepper ran her warm fingers up Harold’s shirt and playfully tugged his collar. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Harry. You still processing everything that’s happened? I know I am.”