He returned to Beverly's side. He'd heard a lot about her over the last few weeks. Actually, he'd heard far too much. When it came to Beverly, Reed was like a broken record. Beverly did this. Beverly stole that. Damn, it was annoying.
At times, Reed had claimed to hate her. He'd even seemed to believe it. But of course, it was bullshit. Reed certainly felt strong emotions toward her.
But hate sure wasn't one of them.
Graham draped a blanket over her body. Carefully, he tucked it under her chin. He'd never actually met her. Hell, he'd never even seen her until they'd dug her out of the Sno-Cat. So, everything he knew about her was second-hand.
But he could see why Cy was so attracted to her. She wasn't all bones and straight lines like those so-called supermodels. Instead, she reminded him of a tightly toned athlete.
He studied her face. She was definitely pretty, maybe even beautiful. Still, she wasn't Liza Oliver. No sir.
There was just one Liza Oliver.
He checked Beverly's breathing. From all indications, she was fine. However, he was worried about how long she'd been unconscious. Wasn't that a bad sign?
Something creaked behind him.
His nerves tingled. He spun around.
A couple of feet away, a small section of floor started to quiver. It looked like some bizarre trick of the light.
Graham rubbed his eyes. But the floor continued to quiver. Then it lifted into the air, swinging noiselessly on a couple of hinges. A shadowy head appeared. It turned slowly, inspecting the surroundings.
Graham frowned. "Rupert?"
Rupert froze. "Dutch? What are you doing here?"
"You're popping out of the floor and you want to know what I'm doing here?"
"It's just a basement. We use it for storage." Rupert hoisted himself out of the hole. "Want to see it?"
Rupert's body language bothered Graham. He was tempted to edge toward the door. But he couldn't very well leave Beverly behind. "Tempting offer. But I'll pass."
"I insist."
"I've got to stay here." Graham nodded at Beverly. "Someone needs to keep an eye on her."
"Don't worry. She'll be fine."
"Maybe later."
Rupert reached to his belt. Then he swung his arm. Metal flashed.
A pistol slammed into Graham's forehead. He slumped to the ground.
"It might not seem like it." Rupert stepped over Graham's fallen form. "But this is for the best."
Chapter 66
"Do you believe in heaven?" The voice was soft, almost angelic.
Graham blinked. His eyes fluttered open. Everything looked blurry. "What … where …?"
He blinked again. Everything still looked blurry. It took him a few seconds to realize he was staring through some kind of thick acrylic glass. It took a few more seconds to realize the glass constituted one side of a giant vat.
A platform rested directly behind him. Holly sat on it. She dangled her legs just a few inches from his outstretched hand. "Where's Beverly? If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll—”
"Relax," Holly said. "She's fine. Now, please answer my question."
"Why the hell should I?"
"Indulge me."
He tried to stretch his arms but bindings held them tight. His legs were restrained as well. He looked down at his naked body. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble to see my birthday suit. You could've just asked."
"You're in good shape for your age. You'll make an excellent subject."
"Don't do anything stupid. Cy will look for me."
"Perhaps. But he won't find you, not down here." She smiled. "Scream. Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want. Fair warning though. This room is soundproof."
With some effort, Graham managed to lift his chin and peer over the glass. He saw a string of large metallic cylinders. Engraved brass plates were mounted on their surfaces. "Jim Peterson," he read aloud. "Say isn't that the maintenance guy?"
"Yes." Holly crossed her legs. "We cryopreserved his life."
"Cryopreserved? Wait, you froze him?"
"No, we put him into a state of suspended animation."
"What's the difference?"
"He might be legally dead, but he's still alive. Someday we'll be able to revive him."
Graham twisted his wrists and yanked. But the bindings held tight. "You can't possibly know that for certain."
Holly's gaze tightened by an almost imperceptible amount. "You still haven't answered my question. Do you believe in heaven?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because immaterial souls are a thing of fiction. They don't exist."
"You sound pretty damn sure of yourself."
"In order for an immaterial soul to exist, it has to satisfy two constraints. First, it has to exist separately from the physical body. Otherwise, it would perish upon death. And second, a soul must be the essence of a person. It must be the source of free will and decisions."
Graham gave up on the bindings.
"Here's the problem," she continued. "Once upon a time, the human mind seemed like a miraculous invention, only capable of a Higher Power. It was, in other words, the soul. But advances in neuroscience have changed that. Every emotion, thought, and memory can now be traced to brain activity or perhaps, brain structure. In other words, the brain is the true source of what theologians like to call the soul."
"That's a depressing way to look at life."
"But accurate. Intelligence, emotions, and everything that defines us are nothing more than computational processes. We aren't individuals with souls. We're boxes with wires."
"So, if there are no souls, that means Jim is gone for good."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Quite the opposite. Like I said, we cryopreserved him."
"You mean you turned him into an ice cube."
"He's not dead. But make no mistake about it. Death is the end. There's no coming back from it. It's truly eternal oblivion." Her face became soft, contemplative. "Throughout history, the idea of a soul served three purposes. It provided a pre-neuroscience explanation for the mind. It comforted people who feared death or who'd lost loved ones. And it civilized people. Without the threat of Judgment Day, society would collapse into chaos."
"You don't know death is the end."
She gave him a sad smile. "I know it's hard to hear."
"So, mental activity has a mechanical aspect to it. Big fuckin' deal. It's just an association, not a causation."
She cinched her eyes shut. "I don't follow."
"In other words, maybe brain activity doesn't cause thinking," Graham replied. "Maybe it's the other way around."
"That's ridiculous. That's …" Holly's face turned red. She quickly stood up. "This conversation is finished."
"Too bad. I was just getting started."
"Oh, you're still getting started. Just with something else."
She walked across the platform. He twisted his head in both directions, but he couldn't see what she was doing.
He heard a light splash. Then water touched his toes. He cringed as an icy feeling spread throughout his body.
"If you have anything to get off your chest, this is the time to do it. You won't get another chance for a long time." Holly smiled sweetly. "A very long time."
Chapter 67
"That's odd." Trotter released the right doorknob and tried the left one. "They're both locked."
"Don't worry. I asked Dutch to lock them." I knocked on one of the doors. "It's Cy. Open up."
A few seconds passed.
I knocked again, louder this time. "Dutch?"
Slowly, a frown worked its way across my face. I glanced at Trotter and Jenner. "He probably stepped out for a moment. Can you guys look for him? And get Pat too. He must still be sleeping."
They nodded in agreement. Then they walked quickly down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.