“Tell us about yours anyway, while we wait.”
“Well, I like to use the illustration of what happens when a caver or spelunker shines a bright light into an underground nest where hundreds of bats are roosting. The bats panic and lash out violently toward anything around them, including one another. The same dynamic can occur with the human animal, given the right set of circumstances. So the Dayfall Effect is really based on some simple primal psychological and social forces that are inherent to our nature. I call them ‘The Four Phobias.’”
“And they are?” Jon said.
“The first is metathesiophobia, or the fear of change. Many of the people in this city have known nothing or almost nothing but darkness for many years. To be exposed to full sunlight tomorrow, if they insist on being outside to welcome it, will by any definition be a trauma for at least most of them. They will respond emotionally in the various ways trauma victims do, and that will make human communication and conflict resolution problematic, to say the least.
“The second phobia is more subtle and controversial, but I’ve become convinced of it the more I study and observe. It’s a form of photophobia, or the fear of light. There’s something about light in particular, in contrast to darkness, that creates a feeling of exposure and guilt in humans. The major religions—Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam—all speak repeatedly of the dark as a place where people can hide what they don’t want others, or the gods, to know. For example, the Bible says people love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil, and they won’t come to the light for fear of being exposed by it. And you have many similar references in all the so-called ‘holy books.’ I’m not a religious person myself, but such a ubiquitous idea in the sacred records of so many cultures has to reflect something in reality.”
“Hmph,” Halladay grunted. “I personally like to leave the light on when I’m sinning.”
“But those religious references are metaphorical,” Jon said, ignoring his partner.
“Yes, you’re right,” Carter said, “But why did they choose that metaphor in the first place, instead of, say, the other way around? Because more crime clearly takes place at night, and the morning is when we have the hangovers, the walk of shame, et cetera.”
“Interesting. What’s the third?”
“Ochlophobia, the fear of mobs. The feelings of panic that will occur because of the traumatic psychological effects of the Dayfall are contagious, if you will—they will increase exponentially in crowds.”
“Maybe everyone will stay inside,” Jon interrupted, “and be careful to just venture out at intervals until they get used to it.”
“Do you really think most people will do that? If so, you’re ignoring some other basic and enduring elements of human nature, like how we stare at traffic accidents.”
“Point taken. But what about the fact that you’re saying these things so loudly, and they’ve been broadcast so widely? The guy from Harvard who criticizes you made this point—that it’s like the opposite of a self-fulfilling prophecy. What’s it called…?”
“A self-defeating prophecy.” She nodded.
“Right. People are talking about it so much that they’ll prevent it.”
“Let’s hope that happens,” Carter said.
“The more you say something’s gonna happen, the less chance of it happening, right?” This was from Halladay, slow on the uptake and even slower in his understanding of statistical probability. “Like me and Nina never talk about winning the Lotto, because then it won’t happen.”
“I don’t think it actually works like that,” Carter said with a condescending smile, and then responded when Jon brought the conversation back to the point by asking about the fourth phobia.
“The last one is thermophobia, fear of heat. This is the one that’s related to Dr. Gunther’s theories, though I’m more concerned with the psychological effects than the physiological causes, which are his bailiwick. The ionization in the atmosphere that occurs during Dayfall will raise air temperatures considerably—this is already starting to happen as the clouds are thinning—and it will raise body temperatures also. Any New Yorker will tell you what happens in this city when it’s really hot in the summer…. People’s irritation levels are way up and tempers flare so much faster. This will start to happen within hours, or maybe within minutes of full sunlight, depending on how fast it snowballs.”
“I think you just mixed your metaphors,” Jon said. “But seriously…. Could you be wrong about all this?”
“Anybody can be wrong about anything,” Carter said. “But if by some chance my theories don’t hold up, I think Dr. Gunther’s alone ensure that we’ll have at least a minor apocalypse.”
“You think his hard science is more reliable than your social psychology?”
“I trust Peter’s expertise,” she said confidently. “I fear that the physical effects of Dayfall combined with the psychological will make it even worse than anyone has imagined.”
Then, as if on cue, the slightly older and graying man appeared in the office door, carrying a beat-up briefcase that seemed out of place in the pristine modern space.
It didn’t take long for Jon to feel confirmed in his guess that the two professors had some kind of relationship with one another. They didn’t give overt clues or evidence, but they also didn’t seem to be going out of their way to act like they were merely coworkers. This contributed to the overall vibe he got that they were guilty about something, but in their minds it wasn’t that bad or they weren’t worried about any consequences.
To observe the dynamic between the two of them, and to build a bridge to what he really wanted to find out, Jon asked Gunther to summarize his theories as Carter had. His explanations were even further over Jon’s head than hers had been—so much so that he found it difficult to interact in any way with the man. And Halladay was even more lost in the barrage of scientific terms and ideas. The older cop’s only comment along the way was “In English, please,” and that didn’t help much, because Gunther’s way of simplifying was to point out that the term “neurological” came from a basic element of electricity called “neurons.” After that, Gunther steamrollered along in a lot of academese that amounted to incomprehensible gibberish in the ears of the two cops.
Jon did think he was able to decipher the basic idea, however, which was that the UV rays from the sun would mix with the otherwise harmless traces of radiation in the air, which had traveled there from the site of the flagger. This would produce an atmospheric ionization that would affect the way people’s brains worked (because they worked by electrical impulses involving the “neurons” he had mentioned). And the primary effects, as had been proven in the recent stretches of daylight, would be panic and aggression. So in one of his more lucid moments in the conversation, Jon asked if this effect would occur in anyone who breathed the air during the day, or only in those who were exposed to the sunlight. Gunther said the latter, because the ionization would dissipate quickly where there were no UV rays.
One of the reasons Jon didn’t follow the professor better might have been that he was distracted by the continuing sense that he’d seen the man somewhere since he’d come to Manhattan, which only increased the more time he spent in his presence. But Jon couldn’t place him, so he eventually gave up and moved on to the questions he really wanted to ask.
16
“I’d like to know more about the nature of your relationship with one another,” Jon said to both of them.