The Search for Truth

The Search for Truth

LAWRENCE KONN

iUniverse LLC

Bloomington

The Search for Truth

Copyright © 2013 by Lawrence Konn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Snippets of a song lyric are used in the creation of a new work of art.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-9635-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-9636-4 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911425

iUniverse rev. date: 08/01/2013

Contents

Acknowledgments

– 1 –

– 2 –

– 3 –

– 4 –

– 5 –

– 6 –

– 7 –

– 8 –

– 9 –

– 10 –

– 11 –

– 12 –

– 13 –

– 14 –

– 15 –

– 16 –

– 17 –

– 18 –

– 19 –

– 20 –

– 21 –

Afterword

For Giordano Bruno

Dominican friar, astrophilosopher, Inquisition casualty

Acknowledgments

Several sources of help and information contributed to this second book. I thank iUniverse for making this book a practicable reality, and the keen eyes and ears of Scribblers’ members Ilene Goldman and Alice Voith. Thanks also to Ilene who undertook a more detailed critique and my wife, Pat, who appraised every word. Michelle Nichols-Yehling, Master Educator for the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, kindly critiqued a section on science output. For research, I relied heavily on the Internet with its usual search and reference suspects, and to PBS for its extensive scientific, historical, and religious fare, and with heartfelt appreciation for free recorded books and magazines from the federal reading program for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (BPH), and the Illinois Talking Books program. Finally, one book I found essential in (almost) understanding some of the particle physics presented within this book is The Particle at the End of the Universe by Sean Carroll, Dutton (Penguin Group), 2012. Of course, any errors are mine.

Some Truth Quotes

"My task is to bear witness to the truth . . ."

Pilate said, What is truth?

Pontius Pilatus questions Jesus (John 18:37-8)

Provando eri provando.

Try and try again. (to find the truth)

Galileo Galilei

Believe those who are seeking truth.

Doubt those who find it.

André Gide

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—

Emily Dickinson

It is hard to tell the truth,

for although there is one,

it is alive and constantly changes its face.

Franz Kafka

Facts and truth really don’t have much to do with each other.

William Faulkner

Truth, like gold, is to be obtained

not by its growth, but by washing

away from it all that is not gold.

Leo Tolstoy

Nothing is too wonderful to be true

if it be consistent with the laws of nature.

Michael Farraday

Truth is beauty and beauty is truth.

John Keats

God doesn’t play dice with the universe. Albert Einstein

Stop telling God what to do. Niels Bohr

Regarding particle physics, especially quantum entanglement

Time is the father of truth, its mother is our mind.

Giordano Bruno

The truth stalks us like bad credit.

Ta-Nehisi Coates

There are truths and there is reality.

Book Two

2007-2008

– 1 –

The white bassinet glowed in the muted bedroom light upstairs at Fig Tree Goods. After the trials and tragedies of the past fifteen months in the lives of baby Olivia’s parents, Marlene and Chris Larson, no one would have predicted this tranquil scene on an August Sunday morning in Port Jefferson, Wisconsin. Yet here it was.

Prominent in the small bookcase is a large picture with five smiling people. Marlene and Chris stand the tallest at center, flanked by their honor attendants, Julia Wesley and Yuri Muhammad, respectively. Chris, with his toothy, trusting grin that belies his worldly blue eyes, stands behind Marlene with his arms around her protruding belly. Marlene is wearing a simple mist-blue gown and white straw hat. A shorter, pulled back hairstyle highlights her face and large green eyes. Her arms straddle her husband’s. A gold band glints on the ring finger of her left hand, which clutches a white nosegay. Their right hands are bound together with ribbon after the Wiccan handfasting that was part of their wedding ceremony. The presiding priestess in black robe, Fay Connolly, smiles above Julia’s left shoulder.

A whimper issued from the bassinet. Marlene slid out from the covers, lifted the tiny infant in her arms and carried her to the changing table nearby. Cider, their Irish setter, raised his head and then set it down.

A few minutes later, Chris slowly opened his eyes, spotted his family in the overstuffed rocker, and propped his head on a fist. His tall, reddish-blond wife had a striking yet vulnerable beauty that still melted his heart. Now they had Olivia, a miraculous miniature of the two of them–or mostly her, he hoped. Thanks, dear. I figure you beat me by about five minutes and fifty decibels, and not in that order.

I sleep lightly now. That allows a certain person to continue sleeping like a hibernating bear with his mouth open.

"Spoiled bear is more like it. Was I snoring?"

No, not today.

Chris repositioned himself on his pillow. I want to change her, but you always get there before I’m awake and able to move.

You can become the diaper expert when I no longer nurse her. One day she’ll be mostly yours when you’ll be coaching her on the finer points of free throws. After piano practice, of course.

Chris didn’t reply; his mouth was open. Marlene returned Olivia to the bassinet after feeding her, slipped into robe and slippers, and went downstairs. Cider rose and followed.

Within a quarter-hour the smells of coffee and breakfast in the making wafted upstairs, and Chris opened one eye. He turned onto his stomach and curled up for his kowtow, spine-stretching routine of head down, knees under his chest. He arched his back inward and outward several times. He then relaxed with a deep sigh and plopped onto his back for a minute, stretching his feet forward for several seconds. He rose to his knees and folded the comforter and sheet back to the foot of the bed. Then he slid his legs over the side, put on his slippers, and cradled the bassinet with his three month-old daughter.

Chow time, Livy. Let’s go visit Mom.

Because of the shorter store hours, they slept later on Sundays. Marlene prepared their typical brunchfast for the day, which was Chris’ amusing label for a hearty breakfast. The over-easy eggs, frozen breakfast potatoes and toast were easy enough, and the leftover fish from Friday had only to be reheated in the microwave.

Cider now rested nearby after his meal. Chris set Olivia near Marlene’s chair and took up his wine glass of orange juice. Mmm, no mimosa today? Are we out of champagne?

No, I didn’t open one. I’ve decided to start saving for Wharton or Princeton, she said.

"Think scho-lar-ship, Chris said slowly for emphasis. Or, in-state will work too. Wisconsin has plenty of quality colleges."

"You’re right. It’s better if the school suits her needs and she’s not simply at a college for the prestigious name."

Exactly. That plus a good women’s basketball program.

Marlene looked back from the stove and frowned. Chris, is her life only going to be hoops? What about our discoverer of safe and practical fusion energy? Our economic advisor to the President?

If she takes after you, she can do that in her spare time. He stared at the bassinet for a long moment. Amazing, isn’t it? All that marvelous potential lying in that little bassinet.

Marlene handed Chris his plate of food, sat down with her own and raised her arms skyward. Chris bowed his head. We thank Mother Earth for her bounty and especially the dear living creatures that gave their lives so we may eat.

Blessed be, Chris added.

Marlene then raised her own wineglass of juice. To Olivia and her marvelous potential.

Our future Hall of Famer, said Chris. And also to our good health, now that we’ve reproduced.

Marlene eyed him with curiosity. Oh? Do you think we’re going to fall apart tomorrow?

Chris ate a few bites. No, but I recall that Mother Nature hasn’t invested as much effort in the survival of post-reproductive bodies.

I’ll ask the Goddess to keep you in her heart and not let anything bad happen to you until you’re too old to care.

Yeah, not until I become a great great-grandfather, minimum.

Or, why not build Fay a temple on the warehouse property and our entire coven can perform rituals to your continued good health.

At least Fay wouldn’t have to talk in a loud whisper for her backyard services.

While you’re at it, throw in a resort for the women to stay at while they learn about Wicca. And maybe have something for the kids. You know, to keep them occupied.

Chris stopped chewing for a moment. He swallowed. Where did all this come from? You’ve been thinking and planning again, instead of clearing your mind of all thoughts while meditating. You want to expand your Wicca, eh?

Marlene chuckled briefly. Our Wicca, dear. You could think of it as expanding your Fig Tree Goods franchise. After a moment, she added, I’m just wishing upon a star, daydreaming on this beautiful day.

Chris shook his head. Those are pretty big wishes and dreams. I’ll have to watch what I say. What was that dangerous topic anyway?

"Maintaining good health now that we have Olivia. So, allow me another wish. Give me your plate. I recall a longevity theory that proposes we consume about a third less calories per day."

Interesting, but we may want to consider that carefully. Chris held up his left index finger while he finished off most of the food on his plate. Perhaps I should do more research on that subject and get back to you. Maybe a new miracle rejuvenation pill has been developed. He ran his jelly-smeared butter knife between his lips.

"Moderation is still the best advice. And don’t think I didn’t notice your little delaying tactic. Still hungry? I can give you a piece of my fish."

Chris shook his head. I’m sure I’ve eaten enough. Speaking of new developments, how is your Internet therapy business doing?

Marlene made a sour expression.

Chris studied her, then grinned. Do you realize your glasses are spattered from cooking?

Marlene removed them to the table and cradled her forehead. Darn! I forgot to take them off after reading a package label. She sighed. I hope you’re prescient on that rejuvenation pill. What will I do when I am actually old?

Become grouchy. It beats the alternative, hands down. Would you consider those laser eye treatments often advertised? asked Chris.

Actually, I have. There’s a place in Madison. I want to run it by my ophthalmologist first. My annual visit is in two months.

Chris nodded. The procedure seems effective, if one can believe the ads. I haven’t come across any government agency warnings with the procedure, have you?

I’ve seen a few negative consumer comments on the Internet, such as dry eyes and halos around street lights. I realize such comments are subjective, yet it’s enough to make me want to proceed cautiously.

Chris gently rubbed and patted her arm. I hope those are rare complaints. Your eyes are too pretty to hide behind spattered glasses.

She sipped her coffee and he returned to his Sunday sports section, squinting at the print.

Speaking of glasses, Marlene said. "When was your last thorough eye exam?"

Later, while Chris clerked downstairs in the store, Marlene sat at her small writing desk in the bedroom and put on a black baseball cap. Chris had joked that the single gold P stood for psychotherapist and not Pirates when he placed it on her head. Her advice blogsite, Here For You by Dr. Martindale Larson, had its first inquiry. She clicked on the query with eager anticipation.

dear dr. martindale larson,

my husband has been getting adventurous in the bedroom, only his latest adventure seems weird and distasteful to me. he wants to employ something called a butt plug. it goes in his rear and he says it will stimulate his prostate during sex and heighten his pleasure. quite frankly, this is all new and strange to me. what should i do?

mary not merry in madison

Marlene investigated various subjects on the Internet for nearly an hour before stopping to work on her reply.

Dear Mary in Madison,

Apparently this is a new twist on an old idea. Butt plugs were used back in the days of crucifixions, for obvious reasons. Perhaps your husband is testing your limits. Perhaps he’ll try it and decide it’s not all he expected. Or, it may turn out to be that special item in your arsenal (pun intended) of bedroom options.

One of those adult stores or home parties may provide you with valuable information that can make his request less distasteful, only try not to get on any mailing lists. Do indulge him once, then discuss his and your feelings, and whether it’s worth using again.

If I may expand upon Mrs. Patrick Campbell’s advice of a century ago that what two loving people do doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t do it in the street and frighten the horses, I believe that it’s important to keep things honest, open, and interesting in the bedroom. My feeling is that what he’ll appreciate most is your being a good sport.

Here for you,

Dr. Martindale Larson

She processed her modest fee through the online payment intermediary, then checked her other emails. After this, she tossed off her cap, took up Olivia and plopped into the large, pillowy rocker Chris had purchased for mother and nursing baby.

An hour’s work on my first and only client. I’m pleased, but that won’t go very far at Wharton, she thought.

As Olivia nursed, Marlene reached down and lifted one of Chris’ Discover science magazines from her basket of reading material and flipped through its pages. One article caught her attention so that Olivia had to be propped up twice while feeding as Marlene perused the article. The article described how a California clinical psychologist was using a battle action video game to treat war veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD.

That’s it! she thought, heralding her initial idea to develop a similar UFO therapy program. If successful, it might revive a significant part of her former psychotherapy practice in Chicago. She even thought of a pleasing name for her idea: Virtual Encounter.

– 2 –

Melissa Avery clerked downstairs at Fig Tree Goods on Monday afternoons. Store manager Jackie Babson, who worked in the upstairs office, had the afternoon off. Marlene left her bedroom door open, and Melissa’s lively banter with a man suggested that Chris had entered the store like a customer, as he sometimes did. She felt certain of her hunch when footsteps approached her room. Then Chris’ smiling face appeared in the doorway.

Hi! Calling it quits early today? I don’t see Cider, she said.

Uh, no. I’m here for a short visit. He came over and kissed Olivia on the cheek, then Marlene. He sat on the edge of the bed. Something seemed odd. It perked up her senses like a drooping plant given water.

Can we chat for a few minutes?

Of course. Are you getting a sore throat? I can’t believe you haven’t in that drafty warehouse. She thought she didn’t recognize the shirt and belt of Chris’ outfit.

Perhaps I am, and I kissed you both. I must be more careful. You can’t get sick on me. I need your help.

Sure. What is it? His speech seems . . . more formal?

I would like you to be my ambassador. To Nora.

Nora? I thought she was your favorite gal after me. And Olivia, of course.

He smiled slightly. Of course. I do think she’s out of this world. All joking aside, I thought it would be nice for you to get out and visit her for a change.

You’re right. Perhaps I should surprise her with a visit. Surprise visit to Nora’s community? That’s a change for Chris. Is there something you want me to tell her?

"Give her. It’s from that rogue group."

Rogue group? This shocked Marlene. Wait. She went and placed Olivia back into her new crib and then returned to her chair. Is this an elaborate prank? Should I be afraid? Okay. What do you have for Nora?

He pulled out a small media player. It’s all right here.

That’s easy enough, dear. Can you tell me what it’s about and how you got it?

He looked at his watch and made a contrite shrug. If you’ll forgive me, it would be best to let Nora decide what to reveal. He got up and handed Marlene the player. I have to get back now. Busy, as usual.

This can’t be legit. Yet, how can it not be? Yes, Cider will be glad you’re back. Isn’t Chris taller? See you around six. I’m making scallops and pasta for dinner.

A favorite. And perhaps some white wine? You choose. With an air kiss to his fingers and toward her, he left the room.

Marlene sat frozen a minute, and then called Chris at his warehouse office where he worked most days now, heading off at dawn, sometimes taking Cider with him. If she were wrong, she’d leave a sweet message for when he returned.

Chris Larson here, came the voice that Marlene knew so well.

Oh, Chris! Give me a moment. Marlene crumpled as if hit in the stomach. She snatched a tissue, dabbed her eyes and took up the remote phone again. Did you know you were just here and gave me a recorded message for Nora about the rogue group?

I’m on my way, Chris said after a brief silence, and he hung up.

Marlene still seemed shaken twenty minutes later, and did not even remember to offer Olivia to her favorite aunt, Nora. Chris stood behind the rocker and gently massaged Marlene’s shoulders as Nora listened to the message on the device. Chris had sent her an email just before leaving, and picked her up at her salvage yard entrance. She looked down as she listened, then removed the earbuds and approached Marlene and Chris.

That was Arthur, said Nora. He’s written what amounts to a manifesto, though he did explain several unanswered questions. He’s back, apparently.

I hope it’s not more trouble, said Chris.

"If you can tell us," Marlene added.

You can listen for yourselves. I feel I can share this with our ambassador, said Nora. She gave the device to Marlene, who handed one earbud to Chris and placed the other one in her ear.

"Nora, my dear Mother and Community Director,

"I wish to explain our continued separation and isolation from you and our Guest community. First of all, please recall how I never hesitated to help our injured charges, Jesse O’Rourke and Marlene Martindale Larson. Each posed a tremendous medical challenge, yet I labored ceaselessly to reverse their lethal and then life-degrading brain injuries.

"It was while treating Jesse that I became a different individual. I wanted to find a way to replace his lost childhood memories with my own, so I first experimented on myself, and received some of Jesse’s data as conclusive proof evidence. The change in me was so profound that I was both attracted and repulsed by my new consciousness. Yet in the end I did not restore my former data. It was terrifying at first to harbor hateful thoughts and blind rage. Decisions seemed very self-directed and opportunistic, and more vindictive. Perhaps more Darwinian, as I’ll explain shortly.

"After some months in this state, I came to oppose our mission on Earth and made plans. Perhaps you reasoned that I fled our community to avoid serving as part of the next skeleton crew on the mother ship. No, I left because I now saw the universe as amoral and governed by the laws of natural selection credited on Earth to the man named Darwin. I found satisfactory evidence in this very solar system where life has flourished on Earth yet not on Venus and Mars. Also, we know that stars can occasionally be cast out of their orbits, quite likely with their attendant planets. Such outcomes have caused me to see our mission differently.

"As you know, we believe our civilization survived