"I don't know. It kind of depends on whether you're through ridiculing my beliefs."
Gray rose and held out his hand. She emptied her glass and gave it to him. He continued his dissertation from the bar. "Philosophy, ideology, politics, religion — they're all interrelated. So are family, science, sex, power. Practically everything is connected to a greater or lesser extent. You've hit the right mark with all that. But where you go wrong is on page forty-two, third paragraph."
Laura quickly opened the paper and found the page. "You say there," Gray continued, "that 'A self is only a subject position in an infinite web of discourses.'"
She found the words, exactly as Gray had quoted them. "I know what you know about a myriad of things. From the definition of anosognosia to the words of the national anthem, we share a common knowledge domain. But your perspective on that shared, communal knowledge varies from mine because we occupy slightly different relative positions in the social web."
Her head was lowered, and the fire popped in the suddenly silent room. "Go on," she said.
"That's where you make your mistake. It's very subtle, but it's so fundamental as to render your conclusion invalid. You see people as 'mere' positions in the social web. What we know and believe are only components of the all-important society of which we're a part. We're just a link in the continuum that is modified subtly with each passing generation of an ever-evolving culture." He spoke rapidly — preaching with deeply felt conviction. "When one of us dies, the culture doesn't die, it lives on. When we discover or invent something, it's just the gradual accretion of knowledge by the culture. We've built up a cult of the individual. We've based everything from religion to capitalism on the mistaken belief that the individual really does exist, and that we're not all just ants in an ant bed."
Laura looked up at Gray's eyes. They glistened in the light from the fireplace.
"But I'm here to tell you that the myth is not that there are individuals. The myth is that there is a collective. The collective never dies because the collective was never alive in the first place! We are all just individuals motivated first and foremost by a desire for self-preservation. Not necessarily the preservation of our biological lives, but the protection of that thing within us that defines who we are. Parents will rush to their deaths into a burning building to save their child not because society evolved that trait to rationally perpetuate the existence of the collective. Better to let the child perish and save the productive adult! Parents will rush headlong into that burning building because their self has certain fundamental characteristics, one of which is to save the lives of their children. There's no alternative for that self. If it doesn't send its host into the fire, the self that saves its children from harm will perish forever just as surely as if it had been consumed in the fire with its host."
Gray fell silent, and Laura felt drained. She didn't know if it was the alcohol, or the lack of sleep, or emotional exhaustion from the force of Gray's thoughts.
"I came here to talk about the computer," she mumbled.
"It's late. We'll talk in the morning."
Laura started to object, but he rose to his feet and she joined him. For a moment, they stood face-to-face without speaking. Laura said good night and went up to her room. She was sound asleep in minutes.
20
Joseph kissed Dorothy's lips, then her neck, then her shoulder.
He moved lower.
Laura's eyes shot open. She was in her bed, suddenly wide-awake.
Though she knew it had been a dream, an unpleasant feeling lingered. The gray light of dawn glowed dimly around the curtains.
Laura rose and dressed for a run, hoping to cleanse herself of the poor start to her day. But a disturbing memory of the dream still remained, and Laura slowly came to doubt that the woman in Gray's bed had been Dorothy. The thought disturbed her anew, and she headed out for a jog with a frown on her face.
At the bottom of the stairs she met Janet, who was organizing the morning work for her staff. "Morning, Janet."
"Oh, good morning, Dr. Aldridge. Pardon me, but would you mind waiting here for a second." Janet sent the staff on their way and disappeared toward the back of the house. Laura loitered on the marble floors of the foyer, wondering at Janet's odd request. She took the opportunity to stretch, her running shoes squeaking on the polished marble floors.
"Good morning, Laura," Gray said as he emerged from between the twin staircases. He wore running shorts and shoes, and a T-shirt that read "I Shop, Therefore I Am." Laura burst out laughing.
"What?" Gray asked with a smile, and Laura pointed at the words on his shirt. "Oh," he said, burying his chin in his chest as he read. "It was a Christmas present from one of my employees." He clearly hadn't known anything was written on it. "Do you mind if I run with you this morning?"
"Outside? You mean where the temperature isn't exactly seventy-two degrees, and there are bugs and potholes and all manner of random variables?"
"I'll try anything once," he said with a grin.
They headed for the door. "Are you sure you don't want to wire yourself up to a machine and just imagine that you run?" Laura asked jokingly.
"'The most lively thought is still inferior to the dullest sensation,'" Gray replied with a quote.
"Would you cut that out!"
"What?"
"Testing me! Nobody told me this week was going to be some kind of pop quiz for geniuses."
Gray just shrugged. They began their run up the circular drive. "That was David Hume, right?" Laura asked. "The quote?" Gray nodded.
At the gate, Laura turned left toward the tunnel but Gray headed right. Laura caught up with him, and they jogged toward the guardhouse where she'd been confronted by the soldiers.
"I read your published paper last night after you went to bed," Gray said. "The one from the Artificial Intelligence Symposium in Houston." They continued their ascent of the ridge, and Laura waited for Gray to go on. "Let me see if I can summarize your ideas."
"Jeez," she groaned. "We're not gonna do this again, are we?"
"Do what?"
"Wrap my work up into a nice bundle, tie a bow around it, and then bash it into tiny little pieces!"
"I don't do that, do I?"
"Ye-e-es!"
"Oh, sorry. But that won't happen this time, because I agree completely with all your conclusions."
"Thanks!" Laura burst out, her reply dripping with sarcasm. It was the best way she knew to disguise how totally thrilled she felt.
It was a wonderful morning, and a smile lit Laura's face as she breathed the crisp air. They reached the top of the hill in silence and headed down the path through the thickening forest canopy.
"So… you were saying?" Laura fished.
"Okay," Gray began. "The mind creates a self out of nothing. If it can create one self, why can't it create two, or three, or fifteen. Your answer is that it does, only people normally call them 'moods.' You, however, call them personalities. You wake up in the morning with the grumpy personality. While in the shower, the optimistic personality seizes control of your mind. After a cup of coffee, the hardworking, euphoric personality takes over. When your boss falsely accuses you of screwing up, the angry, frustrated personality emerges. Each is present all the time, and they rise to the surface periodically — whenever the conditions exist in which that particular personality flourishes. Everyone is a finite collection of varying personalities, each assuming dominance after a certain triggering event or as a result of some process of mental politicking."
The guardhouse up ahead came into view. Two men with rifles stood by the side of the road. The gate rose to let them pass, and the men saluted Gray with a tap of their brims.
"It's only in the case of multiple personality disorder," Gray continued, "that we see what's really happening. In the healthy mind, the different personalities are very much alike. They vary only in general outlook — in 'mood.' In multiple personality disorders, however, the personalities have hardly anything in common other than the same host. But there's nothing fundamentally different between the healthy mind and the mind stricken with MPD other than the degree of fragmentation among the personalities."