From there, I had no trouble thinking of consciousness as an inscription in spacetime or imagining how those inscriptions could directly affect consciousness.
For me, this begged a connection to the Hindu concept of maya, which says we are a grand illusion of God, and which, to my way of thinking, squares with Genesis, which tells us the world was without form, then God created the heavens and the earth. So, if we live in a world created by God out of nothing, there's no reason we shouldn't view our lives and everything in the world as "real," just as God intended. But I don't think we should be surprised when we dig down deep enough into the fundamentals of existence to find God created it all out of the infinite everything of nothing.
I fell asleep thinking about this. I didn't dream about whether love endured, but recognized it as one of those unknowable things the soul did.
CHAPTER 74
The country roads of Sonoma Valley still slept soundly at four thirty in the morning when Dan Gabriel steered his rental car to a halt on the westbound shoulder of Highway 116 to look at Harper's directions he had jotted down. The setting moon backlit the vineyards and pastures with a halo surrounding the highway and a ragged ridge of hills to the west.
Gabriel turned away from the scene, then flicked on the overhead dome light to decipher his sleepy scrawl. Frank Harper had called him less than two hours before and dragged Dan from his nightmares haunted by undead soldiers.
"I'm sorry to call you at this hour," Harper had apologized. "But I am concerned and can't sleep."
"Makes two of us."
"We could talk privately at the campaign meeting this afternoon at the General's retreat," Harper had said. "But this should offer a better opportunity."
Gabriel looked at his writing, then up at the road. Straight ahead he followed the westward curve of the highway, then spotted the distant traffic light, precisely as Harper had described it. A little closer, faintly as lighter black on black, a road led off to the right.
Putting the car in gear, Dan pressed ahead, nearly running off the road at the poorly marked transition onto Arnold Drive. Two traffic lights down and a left turn later, he drove streets lined with neatly landscaped houses. Gabriel got lost twice on the winding streets, before spotting Harper at the end of the correct cul-de-sac, leaning against a cane by his mailbox.
"Thanks for coming," Harper said as Gabriel stepped out of the white rental car and shook the offered hand. Harper's grip was strong despite the underlying Parkinson's tremor.
"Come on inside. I have a fresh pot of coffee on."
Gabriel walked patiently behind Harper, past trimmed juniper bushes and blooming agapanthas lit up by the front-porch lights. As he followed the old man, Gabriel thought again of how he had let events of his life sweep him along and how this meeting marked an irrevocable break.
He had long considered his Navy enlistment as evidence he was captain of his own ship. But the years-and especially the past six months-had made him realize his act of extreme adolescent rebellion was a reaction, not a real choice. He knew now he had to seize the tiller and steer his own course regardless of the consequences.
"My hearts heavy," Harper said as he directed Gabriel to a chair in the fluorescentlit breakfast nook off the kitchen. "Heavy."
Harper sloshed his coffee as he set it down on the table and painfully eased himself into a chair.
"Clark Braxton is a creation of mine." His eyes were bright and strong and searched Gabriel's. "I'm the last man who knows the whole story. By the time you leave today, you'll know it as well."
"Why me? Why now?"
Harper's direct gaze searched Gabriel's eyes, then turned inward. After a moment, Harper said, "Because you are a good, honest man. A capable man with the ability to act on what I will tell you."
"Thank you."
And now's the time because I feel more mortal than ever before. I have a cardiac pacemaker, electronics to control my Parkinson's, and electronics to deal with chronic back pain." His hand shook as he sipped at the coffee.
"It's time because Clark Braxton's slipping away. I monitor the man continuously via a remote Internet monitoring system. And in the end, I guess it boils down to something Clark told me not long ago up there at that damned Masada fortress, palace of his, over in Napa Valley. Clark looked at me and said, ‘The problem with old men is that time and guilt loosens their lips. When consequences disappear, people do things that we can't tolerate.' Well, at the time, I assumed he was talking about Darryl Talmadge."
Shaking his head, Harper looked down at his hands, which trembled with a life of their own. "I firmly believe now he was talking about me, not Talmadge."
"Wow," Gabriel exhaled.
"Yes. And knowing what I am about to tell you is a dangerous burden. You can leave now. I'll understand. You have many years left."
The two men looked at each other silently. An old pendulum clock ticked loudly from the hallway. We cross many of the great divides in our lives without recognizing them as such until many years later, if at all. But Gabriel saw this one clearly. Dan Gabriel visualized himself thanking the frail old man and walking out right then. As his thoughts followed the future of that decision, he felt a lifetime of regret gathering in his heart. So he said, "Please tell me."
Harper smiled. "I knew you were the right man." He took a long draft from his coffee mug.
"One thing Laura LaHaye and Greg McGovern and the others neglected to tell you at your briefing at the General's retreat the last time has to do with a long history of secret, and often unethical, medical experiments performed by the U.S. military and intelligence communities on members of the armed forces and the general public.
"A tiny bit has leaked out: Project 112, Project SHAD, and a couple of others, which affected tens of thousands of unsuspecting people who were unwilling and unwitting guinea pigs in the testing of potentially dangerous chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons."
Harper closed his eyes and gave Dan a faint sigh as he shook his head. "But what I have done with the General's support and urging is far, far worse, farther ranging, and has the potential for altering the very nature of what it means to be human. Unless we do something within the next week, we will unleash a monster which will bring global bloodshed like never seen before."
CHAPTER 75
Early dawn caught us driving along County Line Road. All peach, pastel, and bright, the sun shimmered off the lazy waters of the Ross Barnett Reservoir as we crested the top of the levee west of the main spillway gates. The vast thirty-three-thousand acre man-made lake created by damming the Pearl River north of Jackson was constructed as a flood-control project but turned out to be a major recreational attraction for boater waterskiers, anglers, and duck hunters.
The brilliant morning sun helped chase the fuzziness from my head. Rex stopped at the sign atop the levee and turned left.
"We're headed up in the trees northeast of the Yacht Club," Rex said as he accelerated past a waterside restaurant. "The house owner's a rich guy from Meridian who throws wild parties for legislators and bureaucrats when he needs a vote or some quick action. It's off a private road and out of sight and earshot of neighbors.
"They beat the place up pretty badly during the last party and I got the contract to redo the drywall. I don't reckon we'll see anybody there for a while."
It seemed that no matter what needed doing, Rex had discreet ways to accomplish it. He was the ultimate good-hearted bad boy, and I was thankful to call him friend.*****