CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
1. FATE CHOOSES AN EMISSARY
2. LOOKING FOR MS. GOODBAR
3. NOT YET AWARE
4. THE MARGOT KIDDER DREAM
PART TWO
5. DEATH ROW’S CHILD
6. IT MUST BE FATE
7. CALLING DAVID MALCOM
8. THE DREAM GAME
PART THREE
9. THE DAMNED
10. THE BLACK HOLE
11. OUT OF CONTROL
12. THE BAD SEED
13. THE GREAT PRACTITIONER
14. THE MAZE OF LIFE
15. BAD TIMING
16. THE INHERITANCE
PART FOUR
17. PHOENIX CALLS
18. THE ILLUSION
19. LOVE CHOOSES
20. MURDER BY THE STATE
21. THE BRIDGE TO SAN QUENTIN
PART FIVE
22. THE DOMINO DREAM
23. THE DEPTHS OF DETERMINISM
24. A NEW PARADIGM
25. THE PREDISPOSED FOUNDATION
26. THE LAST APPEAL
27. THE GHOSTS OF DEATH ROW
28. THE LAST HOPE
PROLOGUE: 13,000,000,000 B.C.
There was no light, and no wind to blow and swirl, nor were there any mortal beings, but in a state of tremendously high temperature and density, the greatest mind ever to exist visualized everlasting principles.
Then an explosion beyond all explosions occurred. Moving in all directions this big bang caused something to rapidly materialize, an entity that billions of years afterward would be called “the universe”. As infinitely envisioned, the gravitational interaction of all matter began in less than a nanosecond. Energies required to crush particles came forth in a time equivalent to the Planck length divided by the speed of light. The ascendancy of matter over antimatter occurred, and elementary particles were established.
There would be no human beings to discover quasars, brown dwarfs, and quantum black holes until an epoch far in the future. Many eras, ages and periods would pass before a small planet called Earth would form from the dust of the cosmic explosion, and then orbit around a minor star in the Milky Way.
Yet by a gradual process evolution would bring to this budding planet a staggering variety of species. Animals and plants numbering in the millions would evolve, and every form, type, and manner of life would develop.
The first scientific principle that man would experience—one of few known in everyday life—would be hearing a loud noise and wondering what caused it. After that first time, everyone in the world would always recognize such an occurrence as an example of cause and effect.
The big bang began the endless chain of cause and effect. However, nothing was left to chance, for planted in that creative explosion were the seeds of all the events that would ever occur. Beginning at creation the unbroken thread of causes was the work of an ageless mind, and man cannot alter this fascinating causal string. Every effect has a cause, and every cause is an effect of a previous cause.
There has never been a human action in the history of the universe. God initiated the big bang, and all events thereafter were reactions, divine effects of divine causes.
Thus, the scientific community recognized that first cause was responsible for everything.
January 1973 A.D.
David Malcom’s breakup with his wife had been painful, and he would’ve been astonished to know that their divorce would forever be a link in evolution’s chain of causes, and that the effect thereof would be a valiant struggle to save an innocent man from the gas chamber.
PART ONE
MEN ARE LIKE TREES: EACH ONE MUST PUT FORTH THE LEAF THAT IS CREATED IN HIM . . .
HENRY WARD BEECHER, Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit (1887)
Chapter 1. FATE CHOOSES AN EMISSARY
David Malcom’s breakup with his wife had been painful, and he would have been astonished to know that their divorce had started a movement to save an innocent man from the gas chamber.
Located just north of San Francisco Bay, San Quentin State Prison was an imposing maximum-security penitentiary. With its grim gun towers and concrete walls it physically and psychologically overwhelmed its inmates.
Inside, a sweaty, groaning no-man’s-land existed, where unnecessary movement was forbidden; where rudeness could be fatal; where an insignificant word could cause a riot; where privacy didn’t exist, yet intimacy did; and where the word “life” was both a prison term and a misnomer.
If this savage institution failed to slay the slowly deteriorating body, it would soon destroy the swiftly flagging spirit, for its eventual dehumanization could not be evaded.
San Quentin’s death row, the largest in the Western hemisphere, was in the North Block, six floors above the infamous gas chamber. A prison within a prison, the condemned men stayed alive in this self-contained unit. The only way up was by an elevator, which rang a bell to let the guards know that someone was coming up. And it was much better to be on the way up than on the way down.
June 1973.
On Sunday afternoon David stepped into his new apartment in Detroit and left the door open. He looked at a business envelope lying on the green carpet. It had fallen off the glass-topped coffee table. Cathy’s attorney had mailed a copy of the decree.
That piece of paper ended sixteen years of marriage, he thought. No, the paper didn’t do it.
Growth in conflicting paths had caused their parting, but David and Cathy still had feelings for each other, and he hadn’t gotten over the numbing heartache. He struggled daily to survive the emotional fallout from losing Cathy, a lovely woman inside and out.
Steve came in carrying a portable stereo. “Where do you want this, Dad?” He would be fourteen in August.
David glanced at his shelves. “Set it on the middle shelf, Son.”
Steve set the stereo down, and began hooking up two small speakers.
The Malcom family had lived in Detroit because of David’s job at Benchmark Steel Tube, but one year ago, David and Cathy broke up. Cathy had taken Steve and Robby and moved to Flint, seventy miles north.
“Can I turn it on, Dad?”
David hesitated. “Yeah, but don’t play it too loud.” Steve started searching FM stations.
“Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - -”
David had been a family man. He had suddenly found himself in a silent new world, enclosed by four bleak walls, hearing nothing but the accusation of his anguished thoughts. His self–esteem had suffered a severe onslaught and the strength of his heart had been tested. This had caused his first bout with chronic depression since David, Jr.
“There’s Pepsi in the fridge, Steve.”
David had leased a two-bedroom apartment because of his desk and files. He took a box into his bedroom, and then he began emptying his briefcase. When he took out a five-by-seven of Cathy, a lump filled his throat. He started to stand her picture on the dresser, but he hesitated, and stood there deciding. He swallowed the lump, went over to the closet, and placed the picture face down on the shelf.
Cathy left last year, and David rented an apartment in Flint to be near his sons, but he had tired of the long commute to work. Today, Steve and Robby helped him move back to Detroit.
David went back into the living room. Robby came in with a box and set it in a corner. He picked up the envelope.
“Dad, is this important?” He looked at David. “It was on the floor.”
David smiled at Robby. “Yeah, it is important, Son. Put it on the coffee table.” He patted Robby on the shoulder. “Thanks.” Robby turned twelve three months ago.
Maybe our divorce was just fate, David thought. Maybe, but I don’t believe in that. No, we were too different, but I didn’t realize that until everything fell apart. Cathy is an outgoing person, and I’m too reticent. Then too, there were some heated arguments about not going out enough.
“Was that the last box?” David asked Robby.
Robby smiled with relief. “Yeah, that’s it, Dad.”
“There’s pop in the fridge,” David shut the door.
Robby went into the kitchen and came back with his soda. He sat down on the black leather sofa with Steve.
“Go Away Little Girl - -”
“Can’t you get a better station?” Robby asked Steve. He took a swig of his Pepsi.
Steve said, “I don’t wanta listen to The Jackson Five all the time, Robby.”
“Well, I don’t wanta listen to Donny Osmond either. There must be something- -”
“Don’t argue about it,” David said. “Robby, you can switch to something else for a while.” Robby got up and switched stations.
In addition to the pain of his lingering love for Cathy, it cut David deeply that he would no longer be around for his sons on a daily basis. They needed a father’s influence at their age, but their mother had gotten custody.
David was so distressed during the divorce proceedings that he hadn’t considered custody. He wouldn’t have gotten the boys anyway. Cathy was a good mother.
“The First Time- - Ever I Saw- - Your Face”
David winced, looked at the stereo, and said, “Could we turn it off for now, you guys?”
Steve started to protest, but he got up and turned off the stereo.
David sighed, and took another box into his bedroom. He came back and put on a smile for Steve and Robby.
“I’m really glad you guys helped me move.” He gave each of the boys a ten-dollar bill.
Their smiles christened the apartment.
* * * *
David took the boys back to Flint and had just returned. Standing in the living room, he unbuttoned his shirt and lit a cigarette. A picture of his three sons sat on the end table.
David, Jr., had come into the world with tuberous sclerosis, a genetic condition that caused tumors to grow on his vital organs. The insidious disease also caused seizures. It had disabled Davey physically, mentally, and emotionally. As his self-destructive behavior increased, David and Cathy had been forced to put Davey in an institution.
David’s mind wandered to fate. Going over to the coffee table he picked up a book, Metaphysics. What was it that Richard Taylor said? he thought.
He flipped through the pages and stopped at chapter six, reading a line. “Determinism, it will be recalled, is the theory that all events are rendered unavoidable by their causes.”
He read another description. “Fatalism is the belief that whatever happens is unavoidable.” He kept reading, looking for something.
No examples, he mused. Why didn’t Taylor give some examples? I don’t see one illustration. Couldn’t he have taken something out of history?
David tried to think of an event that clearly demonstrated cause and effect in history, and also revealed that the individual was not free to make any other choice.
He began searching through his books and files. After a while he found an account of a momentous meeting between Franklin D. Roosevelt and Cordell Hull.
* * * *
December 7, 1941.
President Roosevelt was in the Oval Office. As he lunched on Sunday afternoon the secretary of state rushed in.
“Mister President, the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor!” Cordell Hull said.
Roosevelt’s face turned grim. “General Tojo, that bastard. He’s joined Hitler’s mission for world conquest.” The President paused. “Do you have a report on the casualties yet?”
The attack was not unexpected, but no one knew where it would happen.
“No, sir. There are only skimpy reports at this time, but I think it’s going to be bad. I’ll set up a briefing as soon as possible.”
“Yes, and call everyone in,” the President said, “but my decision is already clear.”
“What are you going to say?”
“Well, it’s unavoidable, Cordell. I really don’t have a choice. The Japanese have left me no alternative.”
“I know,” the secretary said.
“Because of Pearl Harbor,” Roosevelt said, “I must declare war.”
* * * *
This is a good example of cause and effect in human affairs, David thought. The bombing of Pearl Harbor was the cause, and the effect was Roosevelt declaring war. And it doesn’t look like he could do anything other than what he did. It seems that fate decided for him, and if so, there wasn’t any free will here. And since cause and effect is an endless chain from the time of the big bang, does that mean that everything happens like this? I don’t know.
David had left the kitchen light on. He stepped around the shadowy boxes on the living room floor and went into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he dropped his shirt into the wicker clothes hamper. He didn’t care for undershirts.
He remembered when Davey was nine, and he had improved enough to move into a group home. Davey always looked forward to Sunday dinner, at home with his family.
On more than one visit, he had said, “I love my family.”
Davey had enjoyed his newfound freedom, and he spent much time with Steve and Robby. He found great pleasure in going to a football game, and he loved to sit on the sofa and laugh with his younger brothers.
It had been sheer joy to David and Cathy to hear Davey laugh, and they tried to believe that this change would last.
As David looked in the mirror, he fingered the gold Aquarian pendant that hung from his neck. He was a sensitive, reserved man, yet he made a striking appearance.
At five-foot-ten and 160 pounds, he looked slim. His face was tanned, and sculpted with high cheekbones that enhanced a distinctive look. Below arching eyebrows, his blue eyes were usually intense, but not now.
A male model would envy his dark luxuriant hair. It hung over his forehead, touched his collar in the back, and partly covered his ears. David had always looked younger than his age, but tonight he felt older than forty-two.
He flushed his cigarette down the toilet, and then brushed his teeth. His dinner had been a lukewarm cheeseburger during the drive back.
My first night here, he thought, and I’m only five miles from work. I can stay up late. I can get up later, and I can- -.
Sure, I can, but I’d trade all of that and the whole damned world for Cathy. Funny, you don’t know how much you really care until you lose your wife, but then it’s too late. I’ve got to put her out of my mind. It’s final and that’s that.
Generally up until midnight, David went to bed. He wanted to stop thinking.
Sunday night had fallen hard.
Wednesday night, April 1974.
David turned on the television. He went over to the end table and turned on the yellow globe at the bottom of the lamp. It created a dim light, which he needed whenever he meditated.
He poured a shot of bourbon in the kitchen, on the rocks. He came back and sat on the sofa. A news report continued the talk of impeaching President Nixon, but he seemed to be standing firm.
David turned off the television and leaned back, sipping his drink. In the year since he moved back to Detroit, his social life had been a disaster. His sex life was worse. In spite of his good looks, he was not a lady’s man. As a young boy, he had been too shy to talk to a pretty girl.
When he was twelve he met Jim at Oak Street School. Jim was a popular school kid. Jim’s dad was the Malcoms’ landlord. The Malcoms had lived in a small house behind Jim’s large house.
Jim was attracted to a thirteen-year-old girl named Shirley who lived next door to the school. David liked her too, but he hadn’t told Jim.
One time Jim said, “David, would you ride my bike to Shirley’s house and give this note to her?”
Shirley asked David, “Why do you bring a note from Jim and not from you, David?”
David’s tongue hadn’t found words and he’d rode away on Jim’s bike.
This shyness never fully went away, and later it became a quiet reserve. Now, David did not approach people easily. A would-be friend would have to approach him in the beginning. In unfamiliar surroundings, it would be a lengthy time before David made new friends.
As a result, he often drove to Flint for the weekend and stayed with his widowed mother. And driving through the dark streets of his hometown late on Saturday night, he always wondered where Cathy was.
He would also muse about Davey, and some dreadful Christmas Eves visiting him at the children’s hospital.
Davey was the only child there on one visit. The interns had put him in a straitjacket, and locked him in a padded cell. Tired from trying to hurt himself, he had fallen into a fitful slumber.
Stirring out of his sleep, he dazedly looked up at David and Cathy, hands tied behind his back.
“Daddy,” he said, “I want to go home, with you and Mommy.”
David and Cathy wept, then David took Davey in his arms and held him close for over an hour. Leaving him that day was unbearable.
All men are created equal? David had thought. No, that’s a damn myth.
He went over to the picture window and gazed at the beige apartment buildings. Neatly clipped green lawns lazily stretched throughout the darkened complex. Tall lampposts stood watch—guiding sentinels—their luminous globes dotting the night like miniature full moons.
Far across the way, he saw a man and a woman strolling the meandering sidewalks while holding hands. Watching them grow smaller, he wondered what the future held for them.
Then their dim figures merged into one. Given his barren love life, a romantic scene made him feel lonelier. A tear trickled down his face as he thought of never holding Cathy’s hand again.
I’d give anything to go back five years, he thought, and see as clearly as I do now. Nineteen sixty-nine. Steve was ten, Robby was eight, and Davey. Oh, God! Steve was in little league baseball, but I didn’t spend enough time with him. And Robby, I can’t remember sitting him on my knee and gently talking to him. Jesus, I can’t live with these memories tearing my heart out. I had so much back then, a wonderful woman and wonderful sons, and I let it all slip away.
He sipped his drink.
David was too distant to make the acquaintance of a lovely woman without a fortunate circumstance. Public speaking was an outlet for expression, a way to try to overcome his reticence.
He met Cathy at a fund-raiser, but only because he had been up front as the speaker and she later spoke to him at the refreshments table.
* * * *
1957.
David poured a cup of coffee after the speech, and Cathy came over. He had seen her in the audience when he was speaking and had admired her pale blonde hair.
She poured her coffee, and looked at David. “Hi, I’m Cathy.”
When she stood before him, he saw that there was much more to her physical beauty.
“I enjoyed your speech.” She was about five-foot-seven and pleasingly slender.
David thought, Hi, I’m lucky. But he said, “Thanks, Cathy, nice to meet you.”
It was difficult to resist staring at her sensuous mouth, which he immediately wanted to taste.
“You have a gift for making your points clear,” Cathy said. Her gorgeous green eyes glistened with anticipation, reflecting a love of life.
“Thanks again, Cathy, but if you can point out any booboos, feel free to do so.” He sensed an inner beauty of kindness that matched her attractiveness.
“Well, I didn’t notice any.” She smiled. “You were very good.”
She had on a green velvet dress and she looked good, but it was her eyes that held David’s attention.
Later, she said, “Would you like to meet for coffee sometime, David?”
They fell in love soon after, and she became the mother of his children.
* * * *
A few months before David returned to Detroit, the boys told their mother of his plans to move.
Cathy had said, “Tell your dad maybe we should talk before he moves.”
David had counted on Steve and Robby telling her, thinking that it might cause some positive reaction.
I remember how good I felt about that, he mused, hoping Cathy might stop the divorce. But I still can’t understand why we never had that talk.
That caused David to think about fate again. He wondered how a hope so strongly desired could be so easily overlooked, unless some unknown force worked against it.
No, I don’t believe that. But I read somewhere that just as there is a history of the past, so there is a history of the future. I don’t know, but wouldn’t that indicate that the future was already decided?
He lit a cigarette and turned away from the window. Sitting down on the sofa, he tried to relax, but he wasn’t interested in television. That would interfere with his inquisitive mind, which was forever searching for answers in the stillness of the nighttime.
I’ll never go anywhere in the business world, he thought. I’m too much of a metaphysician to concentrate on money. And I guess I’ll always be a loner. Cathy’s doubts about us probably grew stronger because of my ambitions about writing, and the solitude it calls for.
1971, Friday night, 7:45 p.m.
David was in the den and the door was closed. He spent a lot time in there, reading books and trying his hand at writing.
Cathy opened the door. “Honey, are you going to watch TV with me and the boys? I made some cookies.”
David looked up from his desk. “That sounds nice, Cathy, but I’ve got something I need to finish here.”
“Well, can’t it wait, David? You’re always in here.”
“If I don’t finish it now, I might not get it right later.”
Cathy was disappointed and it showed. “I wish you would divide your time a little better with me and the boys.”
“I’m sorry, Honey. I’ll try to be done in about a half hour.”
Cathy bit her lip, but said nothing, then she left.
He got up and shut the door.
* * * *
David went to the window again, as though some soothing magic reigned there, a mysterious power that would make everything right if only he looked through the enchanting pane long enough.
Drawing on his cigarette, he was momentarily mesmerized by the reflection of the red ash. Enjoying the comforting silence at day’s end, he began to feel a little better. That healing retreat usually brought a temporary purge of his hidden fears.
He remembered how his sons liked his new apartment, and how they enjoyed the pool last summer.
The boys are seventy miles north, he thought, and there’s sadness about that. If I lived in Flint, whether I saw them often or not, there would be the comfort of being just a few minutes away. But here in Detroit they seem so far away.
A painful memory of Davey flashed through his mind. He had seen him lying in the hospital bed with his hands tied down. Davey had an IV in each arm.
Too sick to speak, his eyes had pleaded with David. Take me home, Daddy.
During those heart-storming days, David had never felt more helpless.
Recalling an inspirational passage, he went over to the coffee table and butted his cigarette. He picked up a book, The Magic in Your Mind. Turning through the pages, he found the highlighted verses.
“We obey our own destiny best when we listen to our heart. No amount of conscious reasoning can prevail against this intuition, and only by following its dictates can we discover our true selves.”
He put the book down. Destiny, he thought, is there really such a thing? And if fate does rule, what does that do to free will?
All at once, memories flooded his mind. - - ‘C’mon, Dad, throw us the ball!’ Robby yelled. A wave of nostalgia saturated David’s soul. - -
‘Look at them, David,’ Cathy said, ‘they’re our boys, part of you and part of me, and they’re beautiful.’
He again thought of Davey, remembering one agonizing visit when Davey said, “I just want to be good, Dad, and I want to”—Davey had looked at the straps on his wrists—“I want to hug you.”
David finished his drink and set the glass on the coffee table. Remembering the times that he had broken down, he tried to push the distressing thoughts out of his mind.
He walked to the window once more, gripped by the night. Arms folded across his chest, he gazed into the unknown.
Where is my heart? Isn’t it in Flint with Steve and Robby? God, how I miss those guys, and the family life I had. I had good reason to move here, but my heart is still in Flint, no matter how far the drive to work. But why should I move back?
The riveting words came alive—“No amount of conscious reasoning can prevail against this intuition.” Shivering from a powerful swell of melancholy, David made his decision.
I know it’s not logical, but I’m going to obey my heart. I’m moving back to Flint as soon as I can.
He went over and got his drink. Contemplating the move began to take over his mind, and he felt momentary relief as he started planning.
He flinched as the ring of the telephone jarred him back to reality.
Wonder who that is? At the end table, he picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Dad. I know it’s late, but Mom said I could call you. Did I wake you?”
“No, it’s not late, Steve.” It’s so good to hear his voice, David thought.
He pictured Steve’s slender face and blue eyes, his generous smile and long brown hair. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, Dad, nothin’s wrong,” Steve replied. He was slim and growing taller every day. “Uh, Dad, Robby and me have been talkin’, I mean serious. Robby’s on the extension.”
“Hi, Dad,” Robby said, “I love you.” Robby was slender and a little shorter than Steve, but he had the same brown hair and blue eyes.
“I love you too, Robby, very much.” David could see Robby, with a shy smile like his own.
“Mom’s getting married, Dad,” Steve said, “and we, uh, we thought that if you- -” Steve hesitated. “You knew about Mom, didn’t you, Dad?”
David swallowed hard. “No, I didn’t, Steve, but tell her- -” Stand up man, he thought, you brought it on yourself.
He glanced out the window, and sat down at the dinette. His sons would never know the awful loss he felt in his leaden heart.
Now I know Cathy’s destiny, he thought, even if I don’t know my own. “Tell her I wish her the best,” he said.
He recalled Davey’s patient acceptance, while tuberous sclerosis mercilessly wrecked his body and mind. David and Cathy had drawn strength from Davey’s loving attitude.
Now, David tried to do that all on his own.
“Well, Mom will be livin’ on the other side of town,” Steve said, “and Robby and me don’t wanta leave our friends in Carman School District.” He paused. “Uh, we thought that- - that if you’d come back to Flint- -”
“And live in the Carman district,” Robby cut in.
“We’d live with you,” Steve finished. The boys anxiously waited.
David was taken aback. “Well I- - that sounds very- -”
“Mom don’t like the idea and she cried,” Steve said, “but- -”
“And so did we,” Robby said.
“But Mom said she understood,” Steve continued, “and she said she’d leave it up to us.”
This is great, David thought. Tears formed in his eyes. “Just a minute, guys”--his voice cracked--“hang on.” Putting the phone down, he reached for a Kleenex.
Wiping his eyes, he fleetingly thought about fate. I’ve got to get deeper into that. I’ve got to study it more.
He picked up the phone. “Okay, I’m here.” He felt better. “Yeah, I think it’s a great idea, and it really makes me feel good. It’s a done deal for sure.”
Steve and Robby exploded with enthusiastic shouts. David could see Steve giving Robby a high sign.
“Great, Dad,” Robby said.
“That’s cool, Dad,” Steve said. "When can we do it?”
Robby said, “Yeah, Dad?”
“Well, my lease is up this month,” David replied, “and you guys have a couple more weeks of school. The timing couldn’t be better, so we’ll do it right after school’s out.”
“Great,” Robby said. He paused. “And, Dad, can you take us to the cemetery to see Davey’s grave this weekend?”
The tumors inside Davey’s body had multiplied.
David remembered the last day of Davey’s life, when he told the doctor—“I’m having a good day.” But during a violent and painful seizure, he died in David’s arms when he was only eleven.
“Yes, we’ll do that for sure, Robby, on Sunday.”
After David hung up, he marveled at the coincidence of the boys’ call, right after he made a decision to return to Flint. He had experience in psychic happenings and prophetic dreams, and he kept a dream diary.
Almost eleven years ago, David dreamed not of Kennedy’s murder but of Lyndon Johnson’s rise to the presidency. The Johnson dream was five days before President Kennedy’s assassination, and it was in color.
That early Monday morning, November 18, 1963, David stirred in his sleep and mumbled, “Where am I?”
A voice said, “Dallas!”
Thousands of animated people lined both sides of the street, expectantly waiting.
It’s a parade, David thought. No, I think it’s a motorcade.
Then a name appeared in huge, blood red letters, exalting itself high above the entire scene.
JOHNSON!
In the dream, David felt that this name was the most important name in the world, but he hadn’t understood the nocturnal vision until President Kennedy was assassinated.
* * * *
As David continued to ponder the boys’ call, he was unaware that the solitary journey he was destined to undertake had now begun.
Chapter 2. LOOKING FOR MS. GOODBAR
May 1974.
Three weeks before Cathy was to get married David went by to see the boys about the move.
Cathy opened the door, and smiled. “Hi, David.”
She let him in. She had on white shorts and a red halter, and she seemed friendlier than usual.
“Are the boys here?” He glanced at her full lips, and looked toward the hallway.
“No, they’re visiting their friends,” she said. “Did you call them yesterday?”
“I thought they’d be here, but I can come back in a couple of hours.”
Cathy smiled again, and toyed with her hair. “I just made coffee, if you want some.” Her green eyes glistened.
Her friendly attitude surprised David, but he quickly recovered. “Sure, that sounds good.”
He headed for the coffee pot and she followed, but he wasn’t interested in coffee.
He turned and took her in his arms, and when she didn’t resist, he kissed her long and hard.
Then, without any words, she took his hand and led him into her bedroom.
Once there, he looked at her and frowned. “What’s this about, Cathy?”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Do you need an explanation, David?”
“It’s not that, Cathy. I just can’t figure you out.”
“You’re always analyzing things,” she said. She untied her halter and let it drop to the floor.
He didn’t respond, so she began unbuttoning his shirt.
After that, she slipped off her shorts, and he saw that she wasn’t wearing panties.
She unzipped his jeans.
She needed one last hour with him, and he decided to give her what she wanted. He got her thoroughly wet, massaging between her legs, then he reclined on the bed and let her get on top.
After her first orgasm, he rolled her over, and continued to renew her remembrance of the fiery nights of yesteryear.
It had been over two years since they made love. When David left, he was confused and beginning to hurt.
She’s getting married in less than a month, he thought, and yet she needed this? Something to remember, I guess—and for me too. Driving away, he recalled that Cathy cried at the signing of the divorce papers.
I guess she really meant it when she told me she was going to go by reason, and not by her heart.
Today’s memory of making love with Cathy would not be a good one for David. It would only increase his heartache. It would make him wonder how she could forsake the fire that once fused them together, making them passionate lovers.
I don’t know why, but fate keeps popping into my mind. I wonder if Cathy and I were not only destined to meet, but also, destined to part.
* * * *
June.
David searched for a place in Flint and found a two-bedroom apartment in River Valley Apartments. Off Beecher Road, it was four blocks back from the busy thoroughfare. The lane leading from River Valley snaked up a grassy knoll to Beecher Road.
Utley Junior High was two miles away for Robby, and Carman High almost the same for Steve.
They shared the master bedroom, and the room was large enough with bunk beds. They were happy, and excited about the large blue pool behind the clubhouse.
David set a curfew for them, weeknights and weekends. He put an extension phone in their bedroom and made a list of their household chores.
That reminded him of Davey and how he had wished that he knew how to do chores.
He remembered the first time Davey cried because he wasn’t able to help Steve and Robby. “I’m the ‘big brother’,” he had said, “and I can’t help my little brothers.”
At forty-three, David needed his sons as much as they needed him.
He bought a new compact car to economize his drive to work in Detroit. It would be a 140-mile round trip daily, but mostly on the freeway.
He was happy for now, and the return of a normal family life rejuvenated him, but his personal life would never again be normal.
* * * *
September.
David awoke from a dream and rolled over to the side of the bed. He looked at his digital alarm clock. The red numbers peered back at him, 3:01 a.m.
He groped for the lamp on the nightstand, and blinked at the sudden light. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. God, do I want to do this? he groggily thought.
He picked up his dream diary from the nightstand and scribbled down the dream. He also noted how he felt when he awoke, good, bad, or nothing.
Not much to the dream, he mused, only an odd question.
TO WHAT DEGREE? 3:01 a.m., Thursday, September 12, 1974
To what degree is a man responsible for his actions?
David tried to recall more of the short dream, but he didn’t realize the magnitude of the question, so powerful that it stood alone.
Well, this couldn’t be prophetic, he thought. There’s nothing predicted. He would go over the question that night after work. He put down the diary and fell asleep.
* * * *
Friday night, November.
The boys were staying with their mother for the weekend. David sat on the sofa relaxing in the quietness.
Funny, he thought, I just realized that Cathy never needed quiet moments. He glanced at his watch. I wish I could make myself go out and improve my social life, but I don’t know if I feel like it tonight. Besides, I rarely see a woman who attracts me like Cathy does.
As he wondered what else he never knew about her, he decided that he should get out of the apartment and go somewhere.
While waiting in line in the Embers’ lobby for ten minutes, David heard the cocktail lounge rocking with dance music.
He had on black dress jeans and a blue shirt, open at the collar to display his gold Aquarian pendant. He wore a light gray, medium-length leather coat, unbuttoned. He had a gold ring with an amethyst birthstone on his ring finger.
David sometimes felt out of place in the bar scene. He didn’t like single life, but he had accepted it.
Once he got inside, he saw scores of people claiming every square foot of the classy lounge.
“I Can See Clearly Now -- The Rain is Gone”
The loud music made it hard to hear anything else, and it seemed impossible to move. David shouldered his way into the main aisle, which separated the bar from the tables. He merged with the singles, who were bumping into each other while looking for someone else.
As he slowly walked on the plush carpet, some of the people sitting at the bar took notice of him. He often received compliments on his “beautiful” hair.
It was too difficult to get a seat at the bar, but David would rather stand anyway. He liked to walk around, even though it wasn’t easy for him to approach an attractive woman.
When he first became single, he had gone out night after night, trying to mend his broken heart. He learned to cope with his new life eventually, and settled into a stable routine. He felt better now that the boys lived with him.
The Embers had sufficient light to scout around, and was not overly dark like some bars. It had an age range from twenty-five to sixty. P
assing by the large dance floor, David gradually moved deeper into the spacious room. Cathy had begged him to learn to dance, but he hadn’t given it much thought. As a single man, necessity urged him to become a good dancer.
David and Cathy had seldom gone out to the bars. They had never been in a rock bar and rarely gone to a country bar. As he thought of that, he realized that she liked partying but he didn’t.
Since he had become single, he avoided country bars. The whining music depressed him, and he had enough problems with depression. Rock music was upbeat, and it never made him feel blue.
“JOY --- To The World! JOY --- To The World!”
A cute young woman made her way through an open spot in the crowded aisle before it closed.
“Hey, Baby,” a chubby young man said to her. “I just gotta be the guy you’re lookin’ for.”
David watched with amusement as the guy stood in her way, hands out with palms up, lustfully grinning at the prey of his roving eyes. She slinkily brushed by, totally ignoring him.
Undaunted, he poked his buddy and said, “She likes me.” As they watched her hurry on, he said, “Do you smell cunt hair burning, man?” They snickered like two kids raiding an Oreo cookie jar.
After that, they continued on their never-ending search.
David chuckled and moved on, heading to the rear to complete his first survey. While passing the accessory bar, someone slapped his arm.
He turned and saw Jack Rankin, smiling broadly and leaning against the bar. He had a bottle of Bud in hand.
“David, my man,” he said, “as always, you do look sharp.” A stocky guy about five-ten, he was David’s height but bigger, ruggedly appealing and in his late thirties.
Jack’s bushy mustache enhanced a pleasant smile. He had brown eyes, and curly brown hair set over a broad forehead.
David smiled and said, “How you doin’, Jack?”
“Doin’ good, David.”
They had become single at the same time and met at the Embers. Now they were good friends. Unlike David, Jack accepted his divorce with a carefree attitude. He had made many single friends, mostly female.
Lighting a cigarette, David stepped closer to Jack so people could slide by. He tried to catch the barmaid’s eye. In her scanty black-lace outfit, she had already caught his eye.
“Yeah, David, you’re lookin’ cool.” Jack took a swig of his beer and carefully watched where the leggy redhead was going.
David’s teenage shyness was now cloaked in a reserve that came off as “cool.” He always looked self-assured, confident and in control, even while fighting depression.
Cool, he thought, if that mistaken tag didn’t hurt so much it would be funny. There are times when I’m so damned depressed I don’t think I’m going to make it, but nobody knows but me.
“And you could make out more, David,” Jack said, “but you hang back.” He glanced at the site where the redhead had vanished. “You gotta be more aggressive, man.”
David uneasily chuckled and drew on his cigarette, looking around the bar. Given his detachment, it would be difficult for him to meet someone new.
“Let ‘em see that pussy look in your eye,” Jack said. A couple of his friends walked by and waved.
David knew that Jack was right. Because of his appearance, no one considered David an introvert, but it was hard for him to make a romantic beginning. He regretted his youthful shyness, yet his inability to take advantage of a romantic situation had in some measure continued into adult life.
Still, when a woman attracted him he sometimes overcame his restrained manner. The initial contact usually held him back, but a lucky situation would prevail over that. And once a friendly atmosphere developed, he felt free.
The barmaid glanced David’s way. “A Perfect Manhattan,” he yelled. He looked at Jack. “Want anything, Jack?”
Jack held out his half-full beer bottle. “I’m okay, David.”
I’m glad he doesn’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman in my bed, David thought.
In the two and a half years since David became single, he’d only had one relationship, and it hadn’t been with a woman that he was strongly attracted to. On account of his sexual needs, he dated her for a couple of months.
The rest of his dating had been hit and miss, waiting for a woman to fall into his lap.
The barmaid brought David’s drink, and he took a sip. A few minutes later he said, “I’m gonna look around, Jack. See you later?”
“Sure thing. If we don’t make out, how about pizza at Trevi’s?”
“If we don’t make, out,” David replied, “sure, right.” He patted Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll be there by myself.” He moved into the clogged aisle. “Later, Jack.”
Jack’s always happy-go-lucky, he thought. I wish I could be like that. The only time I’ve ever seen him real serious was when he told me that a car killed his dog when he was a kid.
On the bandstand the lead singer came up to the mike and softly said, “It’s belly rubbin’ time.” The lights dimmed. Several couples left their tables and hurried toward the dance floor.
David approached the edge of the floor and watched the shadowy people. The dancers drew closer to each other, and some hoped to find love, at least for the night.
“How Can You Mend - - -A Broken Heart”
“Hey, David!” someone yelled, from the other side of the dance floor.
David had barely heard the call over the sound of the band, but now he saw a hand waving. The bobbing heads of the dancers cut off his view.
“Over here, David!”
Looking for a way to get over there, David wondered who it was. To avoid the choked aisle, he made his way around the border of the dance floor. He held his glass high, and was careful not to burn the swaying dancers with his cigarette.
After he got to the other side and saw Eddy standing by a table, he was disappointed. But when he got to the table, he changed his mind.
“How’s it going, Eddy,” David said. He discreetly checked out the two women sitting at the table, especially the brunette with shoulder-length hair. She’s looking fine, he thought.
Eddy sat down. A tall, slim guy and near forty, he had curly reddish hair. He and David ordinarily just greeted each other and passed on.
“Girls,” Eddy said, “this is David, a- -a- -”
“Malcom,” David said, smiling at the brunette.
She was about thirty, and she had smooth unblemished skin with a touch of rouge on her cheeks. Her lips were glazed with burgundy lipstick and matched her glossy nails. Gray eye shadow veiled her hazel eyes. She had on a white blouse and a blue denim skirt.
Eddy nodded at the empty chair next to the brunette. “Sit down, David.”
“Thanks,” David said. He sat down in the upholstered chair and set his drink on the table.
Eddy glanced at the bubbly brown-eyed brunette sitting close to him. “This is Brenda.” She was well endowed and amply filled her sweater and slacks. Eddy patted her on the leg and she giggled.
He looked at the foxy brunette. “And this is my sister, Janine. They’re both from Lansing.”
Janine smiled. “Hi, David.” She sipped her martini.
“Hi, Janine,” David said.
Eddy eyed David and grinned. “You can dance with her”—he chuckled—“but that’s all.”
“Eddy!” Janine protested. She stirred her drink with a swizzle stick. David smiled.
“Her husband’s a homicide detective,” Eddy continued, “one of Lansing’s finest, only fifty miles away.”
Janine frowned, and looked at David, shaking her head.
David was reminded why he and Eddy hadn’t become fast friends.
He probably wanted me to keep his sister busy so he could romance Brenda, he thought.
He glanced at Janine. And that’s all right with me.
He glanced at the congested dance floor. “Would you like to dance, Janine?” Eddy had made it easy for him.
“I’d love to.”
Janine finished her drink. David put out his cigarette and followed her to the dance floor. About five-foot-six, she had a tantalizing figure that her clothes couldn’t disguise.
Eddy and Brenda remained at the table, talking and smooching.
Janine enjoyed the fast dance, which helped David feel at ease. As they continued dancing, she reached out and held his pendant. “What is it?”
“My zodiac sign, Aquarius,” he answered.
The band began a slow set.
“Me and --- Missis -- Jones --- We Got a Thinggg--- Goin’ On-----”
David drew Janine into his arms, careful not to hold her too close. Her tempting scent floated into his erotic thoughts. For a while, they quietly danced on the packed floor.
Without moving her face from his shoulder, Janine said, “How long have you known my brother?”
“What did you say?”
She repeated the question in his ear.
He smiled. “We just say hello here at the Embers. What’s your last name, Janine?”
“Me and --- Missis -- Jones-------”
Janine laughed, and leaned back to look at him.
David looked puzzled.
“Oh, it’s not you, David, but it’s so funny.”
“What’s so funny?”
She smiled. “Jones, my last name is Jones.”
David chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief.
“It is,” she said, “really.”
David grinned. “Hello, Missis Jones.” She smiled again. “How often do you come to Flint, Janine?” He felt more relaxed.
“My mother lives here, and I get over here three or four times a year with my sons. Brenda’s wild about Eddy, so she comes with me.”
She glanced across the lounge and looked at David. “Is this your hangout, David?” Strobe lights flashed a spectrum of color across her satiny cheeks. “You are single, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m divorced. I get out here once or twice a week.”
The band began another slow number and they continued quietly dancing. Janine didn’t resist when David held her closer, enjoying her perfume and feeling her warm body against his.
“Why didn’t your husband come with you, Janine?” He was beginning to feel attracted to her.
Janine hesitated. “We don’t do much together anymore.”
“Oh, how long have you been married?”
“It’s been fourteen years,” she said. “I got married when I was eighteen, starry-eyed and full of dreams.”
David fleetingly thought of his dream diary.
Janine leaned back and looked at him. “How about you, David? How long were you married?”
“Sixteen years, and I have two sons who live with me.”
He could never mention the boys without thinking of Davey—“Don’t leave me here, Daddy!”—but he forced the padded cell out of his mind.
“They live with you, that’s nice.”
David realized that the only way to cure a broken heart was to fall in love again, and on that rare occasion when a woman as nice-looking as Janine came his way, his heart felt at ease.
They danced until the band took a break. After that, they pushed their way back to the table and sat down.
“David,” Eddy said, “we’re goin’ to Trevi’s when we leave. Ya wanta come with us?”
“Sure, I can do with some pizza.” David lit Janine’s cigarette, and she finished her drink.
The waitress approached their table. Eddy said no, and so did David, but Janine ordered another martini.
“Haven’t you had enough?” Eddy said. Janine didn’t reply.
After chatting for ten minutes, David and Janine danced again.
Midnight.
David and Eddy took Janine and Brenda to Trevi’s Pizzeria. An hour passed while they all ate pizza and continued drinking coffee.
Eddy and Brenda cozied up, which left David and Janine to themselves.
Jack came in with a pretty brunette, and they sat on the other side of the crowded restaurant. Some of Jack’s friends stopped by his table.
Jack waved when he saw David. David waved, and continued talking to Janine, feeling renewed in her closeness.
“Our life is so dull, and I can’t get him to go anywhere,” Janine said.
The martinis had gotten her high, but David was glad that it made her talk freely about her unhappy marriage.
“He says he doesn’t have time,” she said, “and I think he’s more attached to his buddies at the station than to me.”
She looked around the restaurant and sighed. “Our sex- - a, I mean love life, is non-existent, and I no longer care.”
“How long have you felt like this?”
“Too long. My mother and Eddy don’t know how serious it is, and I don’t know where it’s going.” She paused. “I talk with Brenda, but it doesn’t help much.”
David had grown more attracted to her, and he believed that she was feeling the same. “How long will you be in Flint, Janine?” Maybe I can see her tomorrow, he thought, without Eddy.
“I usually stay the weekend, but I can’t this time, we’re going back in the morning.”
David set his coffee down, hiding his disappointment. He looked into her eyes, searching for a place in her heart, longing to find a haven for his lonely soul.
“When will you be back, Janine?”
She felt the hunger in his eyes, and she blushed. “I don't know, David, maybe soon.”
David glanced at Eddy and Brenda, and leaned toward Janine.
“I want you to take my number, Janine, and when you come back, call me. Okay?”
Janine folded her arms on the table. She looked at David, and glanced at his dark hair. Attracted to him, she sighed and looked away. She looked at him again, her eyes playing around his face.
“I don’t know, David, I- - I really shouldn’t.”
David placed a small card in front of her. “Take it, Janine, and make up your mind later.” He glanced at the card, and looked at her. “Go ahead, take it.”
She hesitated, and he wistfully smiled at her.
“I want to see you again, Janine.”
Janine was touched by his sincerity. She glanced at Eddy, then she quickly put the card in her purse.
“I can’t make any promises, David.” She pensively smiled. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about my marriage.” She hesitated. “I do like you.”
* * * *
2:00 a.m.
They all decided to leave. Eddy and Brenda went out to the car first.
David helped Janine put on her fur coat, and they stepped into the cold November night. He quickly walked her to the car.
“Call me when you come back to Flint, Janine.”
He opened the door and she and got in. After he shut the door, she intently watched him as he walked away.
At his car, David turned and waved. Then he got in and drove off.
With all the single women around, he thought, why am I so attracted to a married woman? I said I’d never do that, but there’s something about her. And it’s been too damn long since I’ve had this kind of feeling. But anyway, it’s out of my hands.
Chapter 4. THE MARGOT KIDDER DREAM
Late May.
David sat up in bed. He turned on the lamp and rubbed his eyes.
Margot Kidder, he thought, who’s Margot Kidder? Damn, I’ve got to be up at five. Is this dream important?
Rubbing his eyes again, he wondered how many zillions of dreams were forgotten. I’ll bet very few are recalled, he mused, and even fewer recorded.
He reached for his diary on the nightstand and wrote down the dream.
A TELEGRAM FROM MARGOT KIDDER, 3:34 a.m., Thursday, May 22, 1975.
I saw a sheet of paper, like a telegram, but I can’t read the words of the message because they’re blurred.
Yet, I clearly see a name at the bottom, in big block letters- - MARGOT KIDDER. Doesn’t seem like much, David thought.
He turned out the light and went back to sleep.
* * * *
The next day.
During the lengthy drive to Detroit, David mulled over the name Margot Kidder. I never heard of her, he thought, and what good is a dream with a message that you can’t read?
David mentioned the name to a couple of salesmen in the office, one at a time.
Neither man had heard of her. He didn’t press it further because he didn’t want anyone to question him about it. Though everyone at Benchmark respected his work, they had labeled him an eccentric.
The telegram might be a symbol for emergency, he thought, driving home. And a telegram’s often about death. So, is this an emergency message from Margot Kidder?
But I don’t even know if she exists, he thought. Not knowing the identity of Margot Kidder vexed David.
He told Steve and Robby about the dream over the weekend, but they never heard of Margot Kidder. As the days went by, David tried to comprehend the dream. Finally, he let it rest.
If it’s important, he thought, I’ll get it eventually.
* * * *
David and Janine met several times in May.
Sunday, June 8.
David drove to Lansing to see Janine. They spent an hour at a park, and a couple of hours in their motel. It was mostly a joyous time, except for one incident. After they made love, they were lying on the bed and David mentioned to Janine that she drank too much.
This aggravated Janine.
“Damn you, David,” she said. Excessive drinking had addicted Janine during the continual stress of her lonely marriage.
“Honey, I don’t mean to hurt you,” David said as he stroked her hair. “I’m just saying that maybe you should cut down on drinking.”
They made up, and made plans to be together again. It would be next Saturday in Flint.
* * * *
Janine called on Thursday.
“I’m sorry, David, but I can’t get away. Some people are visiting” They were both disappointed.
“God, I miss you,” David said.
“I miss you too. I was looking forward to this weekend so much.”
“It’s okay, Janine. We’ll make up for it.”
* * * *
Sunday morning, June 15.
David always got up early on Sunday, but the boys were still asleep. He sat down at the dinette with a cup of coffee, and began reading The Flint Journal.
A short time later he came upon a review of a new movie, The Reincarnation of Peter Proud. He hadn’t heard of the film, so he began to browse through the article.
Not long after, he abruptly stopped, eyes riveted to the paper. He was stunned.
I’ll be damned, he thought. She’s an actress!
For the first time, David saw the name Margot Kidder. He read the whole column, but he saw nothing unusual. Reading the review once more, he slowly studied it, then lit a cigarette.
My dream might mean that there’s a message to me from Margot Kidder, he reasoned, but there’s nothing here. Damn, an actress I never heard of, a dream with a blurred message from her, and a movie about reincarnation. What the hell’s going on?
Not only was it still unsolved, the exotic enigma was even more mysterious.
Confused, David took a drag on his cigarette. He wished he could quit smoking, a tenacious addiction that first captured his father and later snared him.
When Steve and Robby got up, David said, “Now I know who Margot Kidder is, boys. She’s an actress.” He told them about the movie.
Steve said, “Well, I never heard of her, Dad. What’d you say the movie was?”
“The Reincarnation of Peter Proud.”
“Me neither,” Robby said. “I don’t know, maybe she just started.”
After thinking about the dream all day, David decided that he would see the film the next night.
Maybe there’s something in the movie for me, he thought. Something in the movie for me? Jesus, that’s fantastic, but what else can I do?
* * * *
Right after David got home from Detroit on Monday evening, Jack Rankin called. “Wanta get some pizza, David?”
Though eager to see the movie, David didn’t want to turn down Jack. He decided that he would see the film the next night.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Meet you at Trevi’s in about a half hour.”
* * * *
Tuesday evening. David left for the theater early so he could stop by the Flint Public Library. He was studying the theory of fatalism, and speculating about President Kennedy’s assassination.
He wanted to read the news articles about that dark day, November 22, 1963.
A woman directed him to the microfilm section where he could search for reports on the murder. She instructed David how to use the equipment because he had never scanned microfilm.
After looking at many of the articles on the assassination, he left for the theater. He didn’t want to miss the beginning of The Reincarnation of Peter Proud.
The picture was playing at The Flint Cinema, across the street from the Embers. It starred Jennifer O’Neill, Michael Sarrazin, and Margot Kidder.
David took a seat in the back of the theater. Shortly afterward, the film began. At that moment, David realized that this eerie adventure might be the wildest psychic encounter that he had ever experienced. He took a deep breath.
Here I am sitting in the dark alone, he thought, to see a movie for the strangest of reasons—an incredible dream has sent for me. And through the newspaper, the dream told me where to go to receive a message from someone, or something. And if there is a message for me, does that mean that the film was made for that purpose? If so, it must’ve been made maybe a year ago. What does that say about time and free will, and about fatalism? Fatalism says that “whatever happens is unavoidable,” and determinism adds to that by saying, “all events are made unavoidable by their causes.”
Michael Sarrazin played the role of a man in California having alarming dreams about his unsolved murder in another life. The first clue that the movie might have a message for David came in a scene where Sarrazin awoke from a dream.
He reached for his diary on the nightstand and wrote down the dream.
David caught his breath. This is spooky, he thought, like right from my own bedroom. And that could be a connection, but it’s probably not strong enough by itself.
The dream was always in New England, but Sarrazin’s character couldn’t identify the town. He began trying to find the place. Finally, he located the town and decided to go there at once.
After he arrived, he went to the local newspaper office to read about his mysterious murder in the past.
A woman directed him to the microfilm section where he could search for reports on the murder.
Goose bumps rose on David’s arms. Jesus, this is a second clue, and what an astounding confirmation. I did the same thing only a half hour before I came to the movie, and it was the first time I’d ever used the equipment. What’s going on? Sarrazin’s character must represent me. And man, does this mock free will.
But David had no time now to marvel at the power of a predestined event, and the breathtaking implications of determinism and fatalism. That would come later.
Breathing fast, he paid even more attention to the story. Since Margot Kidder was the mainstay of his dream, he watched her closely.
She was Sarrazin’s wife in his previous life, he thought, and she murdered him. And there’s something about her that bothers me.
In one flashback, Kidder and her doomed husband were lying on the bed. She said to him, “Damn you, Jeff!”
Oh God! David thought. Janine’s exact words to me on the bed in the motel. “Damn you, David!” He took a deep breath, because he now realized why Kidder’s character bothered him so.
Janine, he mused, she reminds me of Janine. Not that they look alike, it’s their mannerisms and problems. In later years, Kidder’s character is without sex, and she becomes an alcoholic. And Janine has no sex life in her marriage, and she drinks too much.
But most of the movie’s unimportant. The important point is that Kidder and Sarrazin represent Janine and me.
In the course of the movie, Sarrazin’s character finally realized who Margot Kidder was.
The story ended on a moonless night in a lake with Kidder waiting in a rowboat. She too had realized something, that Sarrazin was her reincarnated husband, and she prepared to murder him again as he swam up to her boat.
He tried to climb in, but she shot him, and he sank to the bottom of the lake. Dead again.
This astonished David. She killed him, he thought, and maybe my dream is an emergency death message. That brought a sinking feeling in his gut.
* * * *
David left the theater and drove home in a trance.
When he got there, he was thankful that the boys were visiting their neighborhood buddies. He had to be alone. It was 9:20 p.m. and they would be home in forty minutes. They left the lights on, but for soft illumination, David turned off all except one.
“Hello Darkness - My Old Friend, I’ve Come to Talk with You Again
Because A Vision Softly Creeping, Left its Seeds While I Was Sleeping”
He lit a cigarette and began pacing in the shadows, going over the revelations of the evening. Though hurting from a growing awareness of what he might be losing, his latest psychic experience still amazed him.
What is this awesome power? he silently prayed. Is it God, or is it the power of the subconscious? What the hell is it?
The “awesome power” had designed a clever path to an ingeniously planned goal, involving a dream, a newspaper review, a movie, and human deliberation.
Now I know why the message in the telegram was blurred, he mused. The dream was meant to lead me to the movie for the message, and the message is clear. My relationship with Janine will destroy me if I go on with it, just as Kidder destroyed Sarrazin. But why? Dammit, the message doesn’t say why. It’s weird; I never connected my prophetic dreams with fatalism until now.
Coupled with the power of the present event, and his practical experience with precognitive dreams, David couldn’t cast the dream away.
It seemed clear what he must do, but he didn’t want to admit it. Yet, he couldn’t ignore an obvious psychic warning. Still, he turned the message over and over, seeking a way out.
What should I do? The dream is less than four weeks old, yet it’s ripping my world apart. I wish I’d never heard of Margot Kidder. I wish I hadn’t remembered the dream. God, I can’t do this! Don’t ask this God, please! I love Janine.
“And The Vision -- That was Planted in My Brain, Still Remains
Within the Sound -- of Silence”
The next morning David called in sick. After a sleepless night, he couldn’t face a day at the office.
Steve and Robby got ready to leave for school. David sat at the dinette, shirtless, with a cup of coffee. He hadn’t told them about last night. He still had to deal with it himself.
“Dad,” Steve said, “are you gonna be okay?”
“Oh sure, Son. It’s nothing.” David sipped his coffee. “I just don’t feel up to par. Don’t worry, guys, I’ll be okay.”
As soon as the boys were gone, David knelt at the sofa to pray. Soon, pangs of sorrow from the depths of his soul caused heavy groans to rack his body. After a while, he stifled the groans, but he continued praying.
Later, he put on a shirt and poured more coffee. He went outside and walked around the complex for over an hour, until he began to feel temporary relief from his agony.
* * * *
One day later. David called Janine and arranged to see her. He didn’t want to tell her on the phone about his psychic experience.
He hadn’t eaten all day. Under great stress, he drove to Lansing and met her at their motel.
They had barely entered the room. David said, “Janine, we- - we can’t see each other again.” No pleasant way to tell her existed.
A shocked Janine said, “What do you mean, David, I don’t understand?"
“I know,” he weakly said. “It’s hard for me to grasp too.”
Janine tossed her purse on the bed and took hold of his hands. “What do you mean?”
She had on the same clothes that she had taken off the night they first made love, a white, long-sleeved blouse; a dark blue skirt; light blue meshed hose; and blue, patent leather high-heels.
“What’s happened to you, David?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve been trying to answer that myself.”
Janine looked into his eyes. “But what’s changed so suddenly?” She had a touch of rouge on her cheeks. Her lips were covered with burgundy lipstick that matched her glossy nails. Gray eye shadow veiled her hazel eyes. “I just don’t understand you, David.”
“I know; and it’s difficult for me too.”
”Honey - - please, I’m hurting - - oh God!”
“I’m hurting too, Janine, and I’ve been trying hard to figure out what’s happened to me.”
“We can’t stop now, David.” She covered her face with her hands and started to cry. “Oh God!”
He took his handkerchief and tried to dab at her eyes, then he gave it to her. “Don’t cry, Honey.” But his eyes were moist too.
She sat down on the side of the bed. “I thought you- - you loved me. How- - how can things change so”—she sobbed—“so quickly?”
David couldn’t stand to see her in such pain. “I do love you, Janine.”
Swallowing hard, he sat down and put his arm around her. “This is killing me too.” He glanced at the wall, and turned to her. “It’s not something I want, Janine. I’m just as hurt as you are.”
“Oh, David, I love you so much, but what’s happened to you?”
He shook his head, at a loss. “Something did happen, but I don’t think you’ll appreciate it.” He paused. “And I didn’t want to get it either.”
Janine took his hands once more. “But please tell me, David?” She tried to stop crying, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ve got to- - tell me why this is happening.”
I hate to tell her, David thought, but I’ve got to. “Janine, I know this sounds crazy, but I had a- - a psychic experience, ah- - involving a dream- - and a movie.”
Janine sat up and looked at him. “But what’s that got to do with us, David?”
He glanced away, then looked at her. “It was about us, and it was too much to be a coincidence.” Finally, he gently relayed the winding mystical incident, getting it out as quickly as possible. He was even gentler about the excessive drinking part.
After he finished, Janine was stunned. She had listened quietly, and a brief silence followed.
Then she said, “Are you sure about this, David?” She wrung her hands. “Why would God do such a cruel thing?”
“Honey, it’s not anything against you,” he softly said. “It must be a flaw in my own character, or something in the two of us that won’t mix in the future.”
She just stared at him.
“It’s probably something that only God knows,” he said. He wondered how he could be so philosophical when his heart was broken.
“I can’t believe this is happening, David.” She started to cry again. “But it can’t be right. It just can’t be!”
“I know, Janine, I feel like that too, but I- -”
“Kiss me, David.” Janine’s eyes pleaded with him. “Please kiss me, Darling.” It was her last hope.
“Janine, please- - please don’t make it worse.” How the hell could it be any worse? he thought.
He kissed her on the cheek. He wanted to hold her in his arms, but he knew that it would only prolong the agony. Afraid that he couldn’t control himself, he stood up and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Janine, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed that this would happen to us.”
Janine looked up with reddened eyes. “You’re breaking my heart, David, and I hope you really can’t do this.”
“My heart is already broken, and I don’t want to quit seeing you.” Oh God, I want to hold her forever, he thought, but I’ve got to be strong.
Janine felt a tinge of hope, and she dabbed her eyes with David’s handkerchief, then she put it in her purse. But when she saw him glance at the door, her heart raced.
David went to the door and turned around, then he braced himself. “Goodbye, Janine.”
“NO!” Janine screamed. She got up and ran to David, and she almost fell, but he caught her.
Then she took hold of his hands. “No, David, please don’t do this to us!”
“I can’t help it, Janine.”
“Oh, my God,! Please don’t go!” She shook with despair. “Please love me, David.”
David freed his hands and opened the door. I need to get out of here, he thought. I’m afraid I’m going to give in.
“Just another five minutes,” Janine begged. Her legs were weak and she could barely stand up. “Please don’t leave me. Let’s- - let’s talk more.”
Tears welled up in David’s eyes, but he didn’t try to stop them. He couldn’t speak, then he got it out.
“It won’t get- - it won’t get any better, Janine. And this is hurting me too, but I’ve- - got to go through with it.”
Janine said, “We can- - we can talk, and- - and- -” She was flustered, and couldn’t finish.
He started to leave, but she grabbed his arm with both hands. “David, wait, just wait another minute and- -”
“I hate to leave you like this,” he said, “but I can’t fight fate.”
He pulled his arm from her hands, and caressed her face. “I wish you good luck, Janine.”
Then he forced his body out the door, and didn’t look back.
He shut the door, and Janine fell across the bed.
She sobbed deeply, and said, “Oh God- - why- - why?”
Chapter 3. NOT YET AWARE
Saturday night, December 1974.
Steve and Robby were at their mother’s home for the night. Sitting in the living room in jeans and shirt, David watched the evening news.
After that, he turned off the television. He used television for escapism, but whenever he finished a stirring documentary, or an insightful drama, he would turn it off. He wouldn’t let an obnoxious commercial about hemorrhoids destroy the quality of the moment.
He had finally realized, too late, that in his wife and children, he had a beautiful rose garden, but he didn’t cultivate it. He wished that someone had told him how much he was neglecting his wife, and as all men do, he wished for a second chance.
The pain had gotten worse when he at last admitted that it was over. When he had to look for someone else, he realized that Cathy’s radiant charm and beauty had spoiled him.
David tried to conceal it, but two months after their separation, depression had a death grip on him, and the grip had tightened.
* * * *
April 1972.
Deep in thought, David approached the green traffic light at Hill Road and South Saginaw. His driver-side window was down. Though familiar with the crossing, his mind was engrossed with his pending divorce.
The light changed, but David was oblivious to the change and kept going, straight into the intersection.
“Hey, you idiot!” He faintly heard the cry from the man he almost hit. “The light’s red!” The second cry jarred him out of his trance.
Glancing at the passenger-side window, David saw a Kenworth eighteen-wheeler bearing down on him.
The horrified truck driver saw David directly in his path, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. He fleetingly thought that he had run the light.
Before David could feel fear, the huge truck slammed into the side of his car and shoved it all the way across the road. David’s seat belt had prevented serious injury, but it didn’t do anything for his shaky nerves.
“Oh, my God,” he said. He got out and leaned against the car. “What have I done?”
The trucker jumped out of his cab and ran around to David. “Jesus, I stood straight up on my brake pedal.” He shook his head. “What the hell were you doing?”
* * * *
Some time after that, David read an article that said people in the midst of a divorce were more inclined to accidents.
Now they tell me, he had thought.
He stood up and stretched. I was too obsessed with wanting to write, he mused, instead of enjoying life with Cathy. Why do we always learn too late? Never mind the we shit. Everyone doesn’t screw up.
He glanced around the room. Jesus, I’ve got to get out of here. I need to go somewhere, and get rid of these heavy thoughts. He went into the bedroom to get dressed.
* * * *
Sunday afternoon, January 12, 1975.
Sitting in the living room, David contemplated single life.
There must be tens of thousands of singles in any large city, he thought, going out every week in search of love. But most aren’t attracted to each other, and spend years looking for someone else, never connecting with that special someone. Then one day a lonely divorced man meets an unsatisfied married woman. She doesn’t go out of her way to find him, and he doesn’t barhop the night away seeking her. They’re just there, at the appointed time, perhaps fated lovers in the night. It seems that nature doesn’t heed the mores of society, and ignores pretensions of morality.
Nietzsche said, ‘Our destiny rules over us, even when we are not yet aware of it.’
But I don’t know about that, and I’ll probably never see Janine again.
Steve and Robby came into the living room.
Steve’s slender face broke into a smile. “Dad, isn’t it about time to order the pizza?” He brushed his long brown hair with his hand, and his blue eyes glistened.
He was still slim, like David. In August, he would be sixteen, and in a few years, he would be taller than David.
“It’s been a long time since we had pizza,” Robby said. “I can’t even remember.”
David stretched his arms and yawned, acting unconcerned. He put on a sober face. “Aw, c`mon, Robby. You’re not trying to con me, are you?”
Robby stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and revealed a shy smile. His eyes were blue, and his long brown hair was slightly curly like his mother’s, but he wasn’t as tall as Steve. Robby would be fourteen in two months.
“Robby’s right, Dad,” Steve said. “I’ll bet you can’t even remember.”
Robby glanced at Steve, and looked at David. “And we want it in time for the Super Bowl, don’t we, Dad?”
“We sure do, Robby,” David said. He slipped on his shoes and stood up. “I’ll call Little Caesar’s.” He went into the kitchen and returned shortly.
“Dad,” Steve said, “is it okay if Johnny Stone comes over to watch the Super Bowl with us?”
“Sure.” David reflected. “Isn’t he the kid that comes home from school with you sometimes?”
“Yeah,” Robby replied. “He’s in Steve’s grade.”
David put on his coat and turned toward the door. “You said his dad was dead, didn’t you, Steve?”
“Yeah, he was, a- - he was executed in California.”
David immediately turned around. “Executed?”
“Johnny don’t talk about it much,” Robby said, “but his dad killed a man in a convenience store, like a Seven-Eleven.”
“Jesus,” David said, “what a hell of a thing.” He stood by the door. “When did it happen, I mean the execution?”
“I think it was in nineteen sixty-nine,” Steve said.
Robby said, “They let Johnny and Missis Stone see him before the execution.”
“Poor kid,” David said. “Isn’t he your age, Steve?”
“Yeah. Johnny was just ten years old then.”
“That’s an awful experience for anyone, much less a child that age. What kind of a kid is Johnny?”
“He’s okay,” Steve replied.
“Sometimes he gets a little too excited,” Robby added.
“What’s his mother like?” David asked. A ten-year-old kid, he thought. What a fate, and he had no choice.
“Missis Stone’s real nice,” Robby answered.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “She had a drinking problem when Johnny was a baby, but now she’s an AA member.” He paused. “I think she goes once a week.”
“Well, be a friend to Johnny,” David said, “and call him and tell him to get over here right away.”
Steve smiled. “Okay, Dad.”
David looked at Robby. “Clear the coffee table, Robby, and get the napkins. I’ll be back in a jiffy, and then it’s the- - Super Bowl!”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“YEAH,” Robby shouted.
David opened the door, recalling the last time Davey was home, shortly before he died. Davey had been totally thrilled that he could watch a football game with his brothers.
Many parents don’t know how fortunate they are, David thought. A healthy kid is a sacred stroke of luck.
He went to get the pizza.
* * * *
March, Friday night coming fast.
David was sitting on the sofa. He sometimes sat for hours in a philosophical mood, soaring higher than the solar system. He had usually been into creativity rather than his family. Instead of going to bed with Cathy, in the final years of their marriage he was always up late, ruminating about life.
I wonder if the anxiety I often feel is an evolutionary hangover, he mused, from the time when the first cave-guy peered outside his hole in the rock, wondering if he would be clobbered. And why am I always restless, with a feeling that I’m missing something? Maybe some people are born with a powerful sense of destiny, and in their endless wanderings, maybe they seek a way to the top of the mountain. Maybe they believe that if they follow their yearning, they’ll do whatever’s destined for them. And maybe the hunger they were born with will be satisfied then.
He shook his head. Hell, I don’t know.
But so many have longed to paint, to act, to dance, or write, and they didn’t follow up on it. And they all wound up with the same dismal feeling—a lost enthusiasm for life, a dull emptiness. They wished that they had followed their star while they could still see it shimmering.
Now, they’re like withered flowers and dead dreams, because they existed without knowing life’s fullness. They probably all wish they could have one last shot, one more chance to be what they were born to be, instead of settling for second best. I pray to God I’ll never wind up a bitter ghost of the man I was meant to be, but it does make me wonder if following the star was what destroyed my life with Cathy.
Steve answered the telephone in his bedroom. “Dad,” he yelled, “it’s for you.” He waited for David to get the phone. “Robby,” Steve said, “get ready, Mom’ll be here soon.”
David picked up the phone and glanced out the kitchen window. He wondered if Cathy would come to the door.
“Hello,” he said as he glanced out the window again. “Janine? Oh, Janine. Are you in town?” He smiled and listened. “Tonight, at the Embers?”
They talked for a few minutes.
“Okay, Janine, I’ll be there.”
After the boys left with their mother, David got ready to leave.
When David arrived at the Embers, he didn’t check his topcoat. The doorman knew him and let him in ahead of the line.
David saw Janine with Eddy and Brenda because their table sat just inside the door. He walked over.
“Hello,” he said, looking at Janine. She was just as appealing as he remembered.
Janine acted surprised to see him. “Hi David.”
She still had her fur coat on. Her smooth cheeks had a touch of rouge, and pink lipstick adorned her lips. She had on a white, long-sleeved blouse, a dark blue skirt, light blue meshed hose, and blue, patent leather high-heels.
“Hey, David,” Eddy said, “fancy meetin’ you here.” Brenda giggled. Eddy gestured at an empty chair. “We just got here.”
David sat down and looked directly into Janine’s hazel eyes. “It’s been three months, hasn’t it?”
“I think it has,” she replied.
Eddy chuckled. “I betcha didn’t think you’d run into the three of us again.” After some idle chatter, he and Brenda began talking with each other.
David wanted to get Janine out of the Embers as soon as he could. “Are you hungry, Janine?” he softly asked.
“Not really, why?”
David glanced at the lovebirds, and leaned toward Janine. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, emboldened by her phone call.
Before she could say anything, he took her hand and she instinctively grabbed her purse. He had towed her to the lobby entrance when a surprised Eddy looked up.
“Hey,” Eddy yelled, “where you guys goin’?”
“We’ll see you later,” David shouted. He rushed Janine into the lobby. As they hurried by the line of people, they were laughing.
They stepped into the winter night. “Be careful,” he said, the vapor of his breath floating away. “There’s a patch of ice just ahead.” He put his arm around her waist and they walked toward the car.
God, does this feel good, he thought.
When they got in the car, she said, “Where are we going?”
He drove out of the parking lot. “It’s a surprise,” he replied. Then he headed for home.
* * * *
The only lights on were the bottom globe of the lamp on the marble-topped end table, the light on the kitchen range, and a night-light in the bathroom.
David said, “Let me have your coat, Janine.” He helped her take it off, and then she glanced around the apartment.
“Sit down,” he said. As he put her coat in the coat closet, he could smell her perfume. Her coat looks good in my closet, he thought.
Janine sat down at the end of the sofa, and with a toss of her head, flung back her dark brown hair.
“Hungry?” she said, smiling. “I didn’t know you meant home cooking.”
He laughed.
She put her purse on the coffee table and placed her cigarettes beside it.
David took off his sport jacket and draped it on a nearby chair. As he loosened another button at the top of his shirt, Janine watched him
“Do you always keep the lights so low?” she asked.
He chuckled. “No, not when I’m reading.”
Janine nervously smiled. “I can’t believe that I came here.” She carefully crossed her legs, tugged at her skirt, and placed her arm on the armrest.
“I’m glad you came,” David said. He turned the stereo on low and stood by the coffee table.
“Everything is Beau - ti - Ful --- In its Own Waa - aay-------”
“You look lovely, Janine.” It had been some time since a woman was in his apartment, and never one like Janine.
She lightly blushed. “Thank you.” She glanced at his ring. “Is that your birthstone, David?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Amethyst, isn’t that February?”
“Yeah. Can I fix you a drink?”
“Yes, I think I need a drink.” She took a cigarette from the pack.
He walked over and lit it for her.
She blew a cloud of smoke away from David. “Can you make me a martini?”
“Sure thing, only be a minute.” He went into the kitchen.
Janine glanced around the living room. Her eyes fell upon a woodcut picture on the wall. It depicted two lovers walking in the park. She smiled.
“I like your place, David.” She looked down the dark hallway toward the bedrooms. “Where are your boys?”
“They’re gone for the weekend, at their mother’s.”
David returned with two drinks, handing her one. He hadn’t told her about Davey yet.
“Thank you,” Janine said and sipped her drink. “Ummm, it’s very good.”
David lit a cigarette and stood there, sipping his drink. He sat down on the sofa, a prudent distance from her.
“It was a pleasant surprise when you called, Janine.” He wondered how he could be so patient when he was so hungry for her.
Janine nervously laughed. “It was a surprise for me too.” She took a drag from her cigarette and uneasily smiled. Sipping her drink, she looked at him over the rim. “So, how do you and the boys get along in this arrangement? I mean without a wom- - a mother, that is.” She played with strands of her long hair.
“We get along fine. Not that there’s never an argument, but we’re making it work.” He drew on his cigarette, and sipped his drink.
“That’s great, David. Some fathers would never do this for their kids.” She took a drink. “And your drive to work, oh God, I don’t know any man who would do that.”
“I don’t like it, but right now I’m putting up with it.” He brushed his hair back. “I’ve got to make a job change soon, back here in Flint.”
They continued talking, and he told her about Steve and Robby and their call about living with him. She told him how well her boys were doing in school. They chatted for an hour and Janine grew more at ease.
Later, David set his drink down, and gently took her glass from her hand, setting it beside his.
“Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You”
Suddenly quiet, she put her hand to the hollow of her neck and gazed at him.
He eased next to her and began to caress the side of her face.
“David, I- - I don’t know about this- - I do like you, but I- -” He took her in his arms, and she closed her eyes.
* * * *
About an hour later. After their second round of lovemaking, they lay naked on the bed, flushed but beginning to breath easier. There had been no struggling, no protesting, only an overpowering desire that surged from both of them.
When their aroused bodies had come together, they had instantly ignited, erupting hundreds of fleeting sparks and lighting up a moment of heaven, two flames blazing as one. Now they were cooling off, their intense craving momentarily satisfied.
Janine stared at the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend who’s married,” she said, “and she’s been having an affair for a year. And I judged her, asking how she could do it and- -” She sighed and looked at David. “And now look at me.”
David laughed. “I am looking at you, and I love it.” He rubbed her firm belly. “Do you regret tonight?”
Janine snuggled into his arms, and he pulled the blue satin sheet over her. “You know the answer to that,” she whispered in his ear. She kissed his neck.
He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “It’s been a wonderful night, Janine.”
“Yes, David, it has.” She hesitated. “And I hate to bring it up, but I have to go.”
“Now?”
“It’s late, and Eddy and my mother will be wondering.” She caressed his face. “I really should, David.”
“I know; I’ll take you to your mother’s house.” He sat up on the side of the bed. “What’re you going to tell her?”
Janine crawled over, and sat beside him. “I’ll tell her we were having coffee in some all night place.”
David put his arm around her and squeezed her. He cupped her breasts in his hands and leaned over, gently sucking them. Her nipples hardened.
“Oh, God,” she said. She ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re going to get me started, and it’ll be hard to leave.”
He let go of her breasts and grinned. “If it gets hard again, I won’t let you leave.”
She laughed and playfully slapped his face.
“Are you sure you’ve got to leave?”
“I’m sorry, David.” She rubbed his chest. “Are we going to see each other again?”
“I want to, Janine.”
“Can you come to Lansing? I can call and let you know when I can get free.”
“Good, and don’t make it too long.”
One week later Janine called David.
They met at a motel in Lansing, and they were happy to be together. Her husband was working late hours on a murder case, and the oldest boy watched his younger brother. She stayed as long as she could, and they made love until the last minute.
They were feeling more comfortable together. During the rest of March, and in April, they saw each other over a half dozen times. They began to talk of the future. Once when Janine was at David’s place, Robby met her.
He said to Steve later, “She’s a fox, Steve.”
Janine wanted David’s advice before asking her husband for a divorce.
“It won’t hurt him,” she said, “in view of our dreary marriage. But if he does make a fuss, he may try to get custody of the boys.” She hesitated. “And if he found out about us, he’d try to use it against me in court.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” David said, trying to reassure her.
Determined to make this a new start in life, David had a talk with Steve and Robby.
They were happy for him, but he wasn’t sure they understood the part about Janine being a married woman.
* * * *
May. David and Janine met at their motel. Then they went to lunch at a restaurant that Janine thought was safe. They enjoyed being out in the open, but they were uneasy. It wasn’t like being free to be seen.
Returning to the motel, they lay in bed and talked about their future.
“David, you’ve made me so happy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this wonderful.” She wiped away a tear and kissed him on the cheek.
He sat up and caressed the side of her face. “Janine, I’ve been thinking about your boys. I don’t think we should go out in public again, not until you’re separated.”
“I don’t think he’d ever see us where we went today.”
“Maybe, but it’s taking a big chance on you losing custody of your boys.”
“It could be joint custody,” she said, “because at their age the boys need to be with their father.”
“But if your husband knew about us, you might not even get that.” He smiled. “I love you, Janine, and I want you to be happy. So let’s be careful.”
He reclined on the bed and she slid into his arms. He kissed her hard on the mouth, and they made love again.
When he had to leave, she clung to him until he reluctantly opened the motel door. He got in his car and rolled down the window.
Janine leaned in and they kissed. “I’ll call you tomorrow, David.” He waited until she got in her car, then he waved goodbye and drove away.
On the hour’s ride home, David mulled over the night, thinking through every wonderful moment.
I haven’t felt this way since Cathy. And I had almost forgotten how incredible it is to be loved by the one you love. I want to take Janine out when she gets free. I want to be with her in the open. I didn’t think I’d ever get involved with a married woman, but life’s so short. Three years have gone by without any relationship, and I’m going to make this happen.
New Thought magazine published two of my essays: The Missing Link of Quantum Mechanics and Citizen of The Universe.
TWO WORDS YOUR CHILD WILL NEVER FORGET
Copyright 2000 Lee Herald
MAYBE LATER
THE ALBERT EINSTEIN DEFENSE
Copyright 2004 Lee Herald
August 13, 2007
Super Agency, Inc.
100 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10003
Dear Ms. Super Agent:
Albert Einstein would’ve been a brilliant defense attorney. Why? Because he believed in determinism—which would be The Albert Einstein Defense.
A breathless gallery would excitedly wait, then the great scientist would open with the following statement:
A God who rewards and punishes is inconceivable . . . for the simple reason that a man’s actions are determined by necessity, external and internal, so that in God’s eyes he cannot be responsible, any more than an inanimate object is responsible for the motions it undergoes.
ALBERT EINSTEIN Religion and Science. New York Times Magazine, November 9, 1930. The Great Quotations, Compiled by George Seldes, Published by Pocket Books, New York, A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
What caused Einstein to say this?
The principle of cause and effect prompted him. It is the most well-known scientific principle in the world and it is recognized by scientists and global citizens alike.
This universal principle doesn’t just rule the birds and the bees, the mountains and the rivers, and the stars and the planets. It is in firm control of all life, including human beings. This is why Einstein said—“he cannot be responsible.”
The Colorado Springs Gazette . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . B1
CRIMINALS COULD SOON PLEAD ‘MY GENES MADE ME DO IT.’ (From The Toledo Blade, Bar Harbor, Maine)
Growing evidence that a person’s genes influence behavior may create serious dilemmas for law enforcement . . . a noted geneticist said . . . “Genes do appear to influence behavior,” said Dr. Leroy Hood, chairman of the department of molecular biotechnology at the University of Washington in Seattle.
“Since our system of law is based on free will and individual responsibility, could a future criminal argue extenuating circumstances because his genes made him commit the criminal act?”
If Albert lived in our time he would make use of my novel, Why Does The Lion. Roar
Attorney Einstein would’ve salivated over the link below. One article concerns people whose “unconscious minds had already caused them to push the button before they had consciously decided to do so”.
Dig right in, Professor Einstein, help yourself.
OFFEND GOD?
The Fundamentalists, and many others, often speak of the peril of offending God. For decades they have discussed this, built sermons around it, and tried to scare people with it.
Now imagine a supreme being that fills the entire universe, had no beginning, has no ending, and is creator of all.
Can we really believe that an all-powerful, incredible, supernatural, mind-boggling being could be offended by a mere mortal?
Psalm 119:165 - Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them.
If nothing can offend the followers of God, then how can God be offended?
Is She weaker than Her followers?
Lee Herald
Leave your comments at the bottom of this blog
WHAT IF NO ONE ON DEATH ROW WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS CRIME?
What if the scientific community finally admitted, that because of the principle of "cause and effect", it had never entertained the notion of free will . . . Some answers below
(C) 2000 LEE HERALD
March 23, 2007
Super Agency, Inc.
100 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10003
Dear Ms. Super Agent:
In my novel—Why Does The Lion Roar?—David Malcom examined the most widely understood scientific principle in the world. In a scene in Chapter One, he came upon an example of cause and effect working in human affairs, where choice was clearly not an option.
The first scientific principle that man ever experienced, David thought, was hearing a loud noise and looking around to see what caused it. After that first time, everyone in the world always agreed that it was a perfect example of cause and effect.
Later, David questioned free will and wrote The Heirs of Fate, a book espousing fatalism. In it, he said, “There is no scientific basis for free will.”
The book became the prevailing subject of heated debates. Protestors marched at bookstores. Traditionalists challenged David to debate. Some groups were against reforming the criminal justice system, and they persuaded a number of bookstores to ban the controversial book.
Then David joined a crusade to save two men from the gas chamber. By society’s standards, one was innocent and the other was guilty, but David was no longer sure of those standards.
As the day of the double execution drew near, David and two attorneys were constantly fighting for another stay. Asked about the death threats he had received, David declined to comment.
Now, what if there was no free will? Well, here are some possible outcomes:
For one thing, we would probably be more wary of untested, hand-me-down beliefs.
Another thing, the question “What made him do that?” would have a precise answer.
For another thing, we would no longer accept the idea of a “self-made man”.
Yet, the most devastating result of disproving free will would be a state of utter chaos in the criminal justice system, for—as Albert Einstein declared—no one is responsible for his actions.
If fighting against injustice is not on your “list”, please dispose of the material.
Sincerely,
Lee Herald
A GOD WHO REWARDS AND PUNISHES IS INCONCEIVABLE . . . FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT A MAN’S ACTIONS ARE DETERMINED BY NECESSITY, EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL, SO THAT IN GOD’S EYES HE CANNOT BE RESPONSIBLE, ANY MORE THAN AN INANIMATE OBJECT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MOTIONS IT UNDERGOES. ---ALBERT EINSTEIN -- Religion and Science. The New York Times Magazine, November 9, 1930.
The Great Quotations, Compiled by George Seldes, Published by Pocket Books, New York, A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
RELATED NEWS REPORTS
The following excerpts are from related news reports. I believe they presage the coming global “free will debate”, which will divide our world as never before.
Lee Herald
WASHINGTON, April 23 (UPI) --- The director of the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (Dr. Ernest P. Noble said) pregnant women . . . more than two drinks a day . . . of whisky, may harm their unborn children . . . lead to . . . behavioral abnormalities in offspring, . . . caused by heavy alcohol drinking . . . lower than average intelligence . . . Advice On Alcohol In Pregnancy, The New York Times, April 24, 1976
A team of psychologists--Harold Grotevant, Sandra Scarr and Richard Weinberg . . . children are born with predispositions . . . certain interests . . . what parents do . . . makes relatively little difference. . . “Some kids will never be forest rangers and some will never be doctors,” Dr. Weinberg said, “no matter what you do.” Parents/Children, Likes and Dislikes: A Genetic Explanation, By Richard Plaste, The New York Times, October 7, 1977
CAUSE OF MENTAL DISORDERS
Many . . . scientists believed that such legal and social problems could be eliminated if the biochemical basis of mental disorders could be discovered, and if drugs could . . . correct the molecular disturbances that result in disordered thought. Britannica Yearbook 1978, page 418 in the Health and Disease section, under “Mental Health.”
WARSAW, Poland -- AP -- Recent studies indicate inborn traits of body chemistry . . . make some people more prone . . . to alcoholism, an American scientist said here Tuesday . Dr. John A. Ewing . . . director of the University of North Carolina’s Center for Alcohol Studies. Experiments . . . Ewing said, point to a correlation between the effects of alcohol and the level of the enzyme dopamine beta-dydroxylase . . . people with higher DBH levels tend to drink more. Studies Indicate Alcoholism An Inborn Trait, The New York Times, September 6, 1978
A long-term study of nearly 15,000 adopted children in Denmark strongly suggests that a predisposition to chronic criminal behavior may be inherited, a California researcher reported today. . . (Dr. Sarnoff A. Mednick of the University of Southern California). . . he cited nervous system characteristics, low intelligence and predisposition to alcoholism. . . Dr. Mednick studied the life histories of 14,427 (adopted) Danish children . . . mostly middle-class, law-abiding families soon after birth . . . Among those whose biological fathers had criminal backgrounds, he found a “greatly increased likelihood” of . . . crimes. . . Study Says Criminal Tendencies May Be Inherited, By Robert Reinhold, The New York Times, January 8, 1982
Researchers have found the strongest evidence to date that a genetically transmitted abnormality of body chemistry predisposes people to suffer from mania or depression . . . The finding . . . is described in today’s issue of The New England Journal of Medicine. Genetic Marker May Reveal Manic-Depressive Disorder, By Walter Sullivan, The New York Times, July 26, 1984
The genetic makeup of a child is a stronger influence on personality than child rearing, according to the first study to examine identical twins reared in different families. . . more than half (of the traits measured) . . . due to heredity, . . . according to Dr. Lykken. Major Personality Study Finds That Traits Are Mostly Inherited, By Daniel Goleman, The New York Times, December 2, 1986
FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME (FAS) The American Medical Association’s Family Medical Guide, page 310, Random House, 1987.
A pregnant woman who is an alcoholic or a heavy drinker subjects her unborn baby to the risk of being physically or mentally retarded if she continues to drink alcohol throughout pregnancy. The association between maternal intake of alcohol and a variety of developmental abnormalities in the newborn has been firmly established and is termed “fetal alcohol syndrome” (FAS).
BALTIMORE – A man walking on a bridge sights another who is fly fishing. The first man goes into a rage and within moments the fisherman is murdered. Moments later, the killer is horrified and remorseful . . A woman talking in public about her husband and son being military officers is suddenly attacked and fatally stabbed. The killer immediately is distraught and shocked at his act . . .
. . . examples given by Anneliese Pontius (forensic psychiatrist) of Harvard Medical School . . . sudden brain seizures triggered by some innocuous sight or sound (having no) meaning to (anyone else) . . . The men made no plans to escape . . . victims were strangers. . . the acts were all triggered by . . . scenes that reopened deeply suppressed . . . memories. . .
(Killer of the fisherman) had argued . . . with his father just before the older man died. The father was an avid fly fisherman. . . The woman who talked about (family) military officers was killed by a man who . . . failed to become a military officer. Sudden Brain Seizures Tied To Some Murders, The Arizona Republic, Associated Press
Imagine a world in which expectant parents know not only a fetus’ sex, but his . . . predisposition to be a poet or murderer . . . Dennis Karjala can imagine this world and much more . . . Karjala, a law professor at Arizona State University, said these scenarios and more are envisioned in research conducted during the Human Genome Project. Study Probes Impact of Genetic Science, By Susan Keaton, the Mesa Tribune, March 1, 1993
The human genome is about to become the most incendiary scientific frontier since Charles Darwin’s heretical insights burst upon Victorian England . . . (it will unleash) a torrent of information for which this society is almost completely unprepared. The challenges it will pose to personal values, religious beliefs and public policy will make the current to-do over genetics, race and intelligence seem mild . . . Scary Frontier of Human Genome, By Jessica Matthews, The Arizona Republic, November 13, 1994 (Written for The Washington Post. Jessica Matthews is a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations.)
Growing evidence that a person’s genes influence behavior may create serious dilemmas for law enforcement . . . a noted geneticist said . . . “Genes do appear to influence behavior,” said Dr. Leroy Hood, chairman of the department of molecular biotechnology at the University of Washington in Seattle. “Since our system of law is based on free will and individual responsibility, could a future criminal argue extenuating circumstances because his genes made him commit the criminal act?” . . . Criminals could soon plead ‘my genes made me do it', The Gazette (Colorado Springs), July 24, 1997 (from the Toledo Blade, Bar Harbor, Maine)
The scientists at the National Institute of Mental Health believe that environmental factors combined with genetic predisposition lead to the development of schizophrenia. From NIMH, December 16, 2004
According to one analysis, there are 221 known human genetic defects that can cause mental impairment, some 10% of which reside on the X chromosome . . . From Nature.com, May 13, 2006
ULTIMATE RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANYTHING THAT EXISTS, AND HENCE FOR ANY MAN AND HIS DEEDS, CAN THUS ONLY REST WITH THE FIRST CAUSE OF ALL THINGS. ---RICHARD TAYLOR, Metaphysics, second edition (1963) Prentice-Hall Foundations of Philosophy Series, Elizabeth and Monroe Beardsley, editors
Today’s astonishing genetic discoveries have revived an age-old mystery: Is man free, or does the principle of “cause and effect” rule his life, determining his fate?
Why Does The Lion Roar offers an answer to this fascinating question. Lee Herald
From my novel
THE DEPTHS OF DETERMINISM
September 1987.
Colette had succeeded in scheduling a debate between David and Thomas A. Fielding, III.
The war of words would take place at Gammage Auditorium on the Arizona State University campus. It would be free will against determinism. With its balconies, Gammage seated 3000. This was needed because of Fielding’s popularity, and strong sales of Why Does The Lion Roar.
The Arizona Republic was promoting the event, as were other organizations. It was believed that several of The Republic’s editors were for Fielding.
The ninety-minute debate would be televised live on PBS stations across the country.
September 12, Saturday night.
Two thousand protesters were standing near the front of Gammage Auditorium, and hundreds had spilled into Apache Boulevard. Some were on the grounds on each side of the building. Many were carrying pickets.
David also had supporters. The Tempe police warily stood by, keeping the two sides apart and watching for any signs of violence. The police closed off the street one block in each direction. They wanted to close it off farther, but they couldn’t because of people coming to the event.
With help from security, David and Colette avoided the correspondents awaiting his arrival. He would talk with the news media afterward, but he was too keyed up now.
7:15 p.m. Gammage was full, and a buzz of conversations flowed throughout the auditorium. Hundreds of Fielding’s supporters chatted about their champion. Free will had more advocates, but many liberals supported David.
After talking to KAUS’s cameramen, and the assistant program manager, Colette sat down in the second row with Steve, Robby, and their girlfriends. The first row was reserved for correspondents.
On the stage, two podiums sat about twenty feet apart, facing the audience. Fielding stood at one and David stood at the other. Both men had a legal pad, a pencil, and a glass of water. The moderator was James Rubek, the assistant program manager at KAUS. He sat at a table midway between the podiums, and about four feet back of them. All three men had a microphone.
Thomas A. Fielding, III, was sixty, six-foot tall, and 180 pounds. He had on a gray suit with a white shirt and blue tie. His graying brown hair was long in the back. Fielding was charming, with a pleasant bubbly smile. He loved the sound of his voice, and when talking his blue eyes sometimes grew the size of a half dollar. Never harried, Fielding had been in total command from puberty.
David had on a navy blue blazer, gray slacks, and a white shirt with a burgundy tie. He looked sharp, but he was nervous. Fielding was a formidable opponent. David respected him, but he didn’t agree with many of his views. David was appearing on talk shows, but he hadn’t gotten used to it.
I’ll probably always be nervous, he thought. Colette smiled at David and he felt better.
7:30 p.m. Cameras focused on the moderator as he spoke into his mike. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman, and all our viewers,” Mr. Rubek said. He was thirty-five, five-foot-ten, of medium build with blond hair. He wore slacks and a sport coat. He made a brief program introduction, and spoke of the purpose of the ninety-minute debate, introducing Fielding and David.
He smiled at David. “Tonight, Mister Malcom will present the theory of determinism, which denies free will.” Rubek smiled at Fielding who confidently returned the smile. “Mister Fielding states that the ideas that Mister Malcom supports have been repudiated many times in the past, and that he will do that again tonight. Each man has a three-minute opening statement.” He paused. “And Mister Fielding, you are first.”
Fielding nodded at Rubek. “Thank you,” he said, and looked at the audience.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” He broadly smiled. “It is a pleasure to be in greater Phoenix again, and on the campus of Arizona State with the good people of KAUS.” He held his pencil with both hands and absentmindedly rolled it with his fingers.
“I will make a short opening statement.” Many in the crowd laughed, and Fielding chuckled. He was not known for short statements. He glanced at David.
“I am happy to meet Mister Malcom, and I will take pleasure in tonight’s discourse.” He widely smiled again. “I commend him for his compassion for unfortunate people, but that sort of thing can be misguided and, of course, he is quite wrong about free will.”
He pointed out that free will had been accepted for centuries. He expounded on some great scholars who did not believe in fatalism.
“While I enjoyed reading Mister Malcom’s novel, I thought it to be a bit contrived. I will do my best to prove him wrong, and when he is ultimately persuaded, he will, of course, thank me.”
The audience laughed, and so did David.
“I know you didn’t think I could do it, but that is my short statement.” Loud applause followed his ending.
Rubek nodded at David. “Mister Malcom.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rubek,” David said. He nodded at Fielding and smiled at he audience. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and to all our viewers.” Glancing at his notes, he discreetly took a deep breath.
“It is a pleasure to be here tonight. I’ve enjoyed Mister Fielding’s television program for many years, and I’m honored to be his opponent. But unlike Mister Fielding, I intend to use the time given me.”
Some people chuckled and it made David feel better.
“As for Mister Fielding’s remarks about a number of great scholars believing in free will, truth is not affected by how many great scholars accept it. Centuries ago, only a few people believed that the earth was round, nevertheless, it was true.”
Fielding smiled.
“The debate about free will concerns the justice system, and the concept of personal responsibility. But justice is too important to be left only to those in the field of law, so we must review the legacy of thinkers in other fields.” David glanced at his notes. “There are various theories that disprove free will, not the least of which is the theory of determinism, which states that all events are made unavoidable by their causes. This is the theory that we will be discussing tonight.”
He was feeling freer.
“Weighing in favor of determinism is the scientific fact of cause and effect, which means that everything that happens has a cause. When we hear a noise, we don’t suppose that the noise was without cause. We look to see what caused it. And as we discuss tonight, please remember this key phrase—‘by their causes.’ Not only are events unavoidable, but they are made unavoidable by their causes.” He paused. “In recent times, more support of determinism has been uncovered. Powerful new facts have been discovered in the field of genetics. This science offers overwhelming evidence that if we do have freedom, it is certainly not total. Thank you.”
David received a respectable amount of applause.
Fielding looked at David and twirled his pencil. “Mister Malcom, you appear to believe that none of man’s actions are voluntary.”
“That’s right, I do. There is a cause for everything that we call an action, and when that cause is known, what we thought was action is seen to be reaction. We react to every circumstance like a halfback trying to break through the defensive line. He has no time to think, he just reacts.”
Fielding’s eyes opened wide. “But this is not football, Mister Malcom, we are talking about deliberation. Every man can deliberate and as such he is a free- -”
“And it is deliberation that fosters the illusion of free will,” David interjected, “but most of our actions are done without thinking. In his book, The Dreaming Universe, the science writer Fred Alan Wolf wrote, ‘we operate unconsciously most of the time.’ Anyone who has made a pot of coffee knows how true this- -”
“I’ve seen a few liberals like that,” Fielding said, and chuckled. The audience laughed.
David laughed and went on. “Anyone who looks back over a day at work, or at home, is familiar with this unconscious activity. We catch an unexpected ball before we realize it. We react to an insult without thinking. We lift our arms to stretch. We get up from the sofa and go into the kitchen. We switch the television to another channel, and another. We don’t think about most of these things. We just do them, and who’s in control at these times?” David was speaking with authority.
“But in the beginning we did think of each action,” Fielding replied, eyes widening, “and now, like a computer macro, we need only think of the first command, which produces the others. So this shouldn’t be looked upon as ‘unconscious activity’, but should be- -”
“And in the beginning, from the astronomer’s big bang until now, a cosmic macro has been in control,” David said, “and we react to its commands. The big bang is one of the clearest examples of the unbroken chain of cause and effect. From that gigantic explosion until now, everything in the universe has been flying into space in all directions. And these hurtling stars and planets are the effects of the big bang cause.”
David had set a small bucket of sand on the shelf below. He reached for it and sat it on top of the podium. Murmurs came from the audience.
“I see you brought a toy to play with,” Fielding said. The crowd roared.
David chuckled and waited for the laughter to die. He said, “I always try to take a break.” The crowd laughed. “But seriously, Mister Fielding, can you tell me how many grains of sand are in this bucket?”
Fielding walked over to David’s podium. He looked the bucket over, enjoying the moment. Many in the audience leaned forward to see better. “I saw you put it under there, Mister Malcom, and I wondered about your little red bucket.”
Studying the exalted bucket, he fiddled with his pencil. “Of course, I don’t know how many grains of sand are in the bucket, but I can say that it is an indeterminate number.” He smiled at David and returned to his podium.
“I’m surprised that you said that, Mister Fielding,” David said. An electrical signal raced down a nerve fiber in his brain, conveying a message that stimulated his consciousness. “For there is no such thing as an indeterminate number. There are a certain number of grains of sand in the bucket, an exact number, no more and no less, just as there are a certain number of fish in the ocean, no more and no less, a determinate number. The fact that we don’t know how many grains are in the bucket does not make the number indeterminate, it only reveals that our knowledge is incomplete.”
As usual, Fielding smiled. “I stand semantically corrected, Mister Malcom, and I’ll try to be more careful.” Titters came from the audience. “But I do appreciate your pointing this out.”
David smiled and returned the bucket to the shelf below. “I only make the point that any apparent vagueness in the universe resides in our knowledge of the universe, not in the universe itself. All things are accounted for, whether anyone knows the number or not. And all things are causally determined. Everything, including every cause, is the effect of another cause. It is a scientific truism that things do not- -”
“So we are all just effects of another cause,” Fielding interjected, “and tonight is a command performance for everyone here.”
“In the truest sense, yes, and it began when we came out of our mother’s womb. We were all the effect of another cause, our parents intercourse.”
“That’s rather simplistic,” Fielding said, “and one shouldn’t take- -”
“It is a scientific truism that events do not just happen,” David interrupted, “but occur only when caused by preceding conditions, so that a thing could not be other than it is.”
“Everything?” Rubek asked from his table.
David looked at Rubek. “Everything. We instinctively know this when we hear a strange noise and look to see what caused it.”
“And you include human beings?” Rubek asked.
David looked at the audience. “Yes, the phone rings—cause, and we answer it—effect. The voice asks for a phone number—cause, and we look for it—effect, continuing on and on. We are part of the universe, and like everything else, human behavior is causally determined, even our actions and thoughts.”
Fielding said, “Thoughts and actions, that is rather far fetched. I’ve never heard any respected scholar teach that.”
David glanced at Fielding.. “Well, if they were looking for respect instead of truth, Mr. Fielding, they wouldn’t have learned this.”
The audience laughed and applauded.
David went on. “We are all part of determinism’s infinite chain of cause and effect, and it is God, or first cause, that is responsible for everything. We were not responsible for being born, nor are we responsible for anything that follows our birth.”
“That is a dangerous concept, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said.
“Not if you fully understand it. Scientists state that from the big bang until now a causal chain has brought the universe to its present state. When astronomers peer into the heavens looking for that first cause, they are looking back at the eternal chain of cause and effect, which in the present time includes us.”
Rubek said, “If I get your position correctly, Mister Malcom, you believe that our faculties of consciousness and deliberation have deluded us into thinking that we are free.”
“Yes,” David responded, “exactly. Just because we are conscious and can deliberate, doesn’t mean that we have free will.”
“Determinism does appear to be true in some scientific ways,” Fielding said, “but denying personal responsibility is believed by very few.” He took a drink of water.
“Truth is not dependent on how many people believe it,” David said.
David asked Fielding where the unbroken chain of cause and effect could be broken and his free will inserted. Fielding said humans weren’t included in that chain. David replied that man was vain to believe that he wasn’t included, and he said that cause and effect influenced people everyday.
“You admitted that determinism appeared to be true,” David said, “so if determinism is true at all, it is true for all. Determinism is an ongoing reaction in everything in the universe.”
“But man is special,” Fielding retorted. “That’s why he is constantly analyzed about why he does this or that.”
David replied that no one questioned why the horse ran, why the tiger stalked its prey, or why the lion roared. Science taught that genetics dictated their reactions, but man couldn’t agree that this was true for him also.
“We are not lions, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said. "Man has his head up in the clouds.”
“I think too often man has his head up someplace else,” David said.
The audience roared.
When the laughter died, David continued. “No one asks why someone is a diabetic, that’s part of nature. But if a man is a schizophrenic, that’s also part of nature, yet we punish them.”
“I don’t think it is the same thing, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said. “One is physical and the other is mental.”
“But in the fields of science, diabetes and schizophrenia are both accepted as nature. It doesn’t matter that one is physical and the other is mental.”
Fielding said, “And I suppose you would include murder as nature too.”
“Well, when the lower animals kill each other, we know that as part of nature. Yet when a man kills another man we forget that he is also an animal, although of higher intelligence.”
“But we cannot tolerate that,” Fielding said.
“Of course not. We must incarcerate dangerous people as we would any dangerous animal. But if we blame people for their conditions, then to be consistent, we should also blame all animals.”
“But killers are different,” Fielding replied, “no matter your contention that we are inconsistent.”
David looked at the audience. “We must restrain killers, but we shouldn’t judge them. We should thank God that we’re not on the wrong side of the genetic fence. We with lucky lives must restrain the unlucky lawbreakers, but we shouldn’t punish them.”
“You have written of children doomed by their environment,” Fielding said, “but there are people known as transcenders, who in spite of their background become successful. They have not let their environment affect their- -”
“But that only goes to my point. It is the transcender’s genes that have programmed him to transcend his environment.”
“Then in your view we are but pawns of the universe, heirs of fate,” Fielding said, dramatically waving his pencil, “blown about by cosmic winds and petulant gods, and we only fantasize that we are free.” He looked at David. “Is that your pathetic view?”
Rubek said, “Do you believe that there is no free will at all, Mister Malcom?”
David glanced at Rubek, and looked at the audience. “I reserve a modicum of doubt for what I believe at the present time, and perhaps the purpose of evolution is to bring human beings to free will.”
“You do believe in the possibility of free will,” Fielding said.
“At the lowest level, man is totally controlled by nature, but at a higher level, perhaps he is working toward freedom. I continue to try to exert my will, but the bulk of evidence is against free will.”
“So you continue to act as though you’re free?” Rubek said.
“The fact that we don’t know the future creates a freedom-like attribute within determinism,” David replied, “for until we know we can’t do something, we can try anything.” He paused. “And because of this, we will continue to teach our children to succeed in life.”
“But the doctrine of determinism is harmful to the positive development of young children,” Fielding said.
“No it isn’t harmful,” David said, “because children don’t know what they can and cannot do. So they can try their skills at anything.” He glanced at Fielding. “But I’m going to put that false charge away right now.” He paused. “In ancient times, most people believed that their lives were controlled by the Gods,’ but this didn’t stop them from accomplishing their hopes. They continued to cultivate the land and to raise large families, to erect huge fortresses and to build great cities. Their belief in fatalism did not stop them from creating the great art that we look at in fascination today.”
“Not all of the ancients believed in fatalism,” Fielding said, “and these free men created great art too.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get across to you, Mister Fielding. Their beliefs about freedom made no difference in their creative actions. We don’t know what we can or can’t do, and in that sense, we are free. But in spite of that, it’s never been true that ‘you can do anything you want to do.’ The greatest hero who ever lived was limited in some degree. Yet we will still encourage our children to set their goals and to accomplish their desires, to give their all and to reach for the stars, and to never let determinism dim their dreams.”
This statement received applause.
“Hmmn,” Rubek mused.
David looked at Fielding. “But when does your free will start, Mister Fielding? Does it start at the age of twelve? Does it start at twenty-one, or at the age of fifty when it’s too late to matter?”
“Well,” Fielding replied, “it is wonderful to know that we are free men even if we don’t know when we arrived.”
The audience laughed.
“But not so wonderful for the accused,” David said, “when standing before a judge who also doesn’t know the time of that arrival. And since we’re all unique, freedom couldn’t start at the same age for all, so how would the judge know about the accused?”
Fielding ignored the question. “And you did say freedom ‘within determinism.’ You seem to be retreating, Mister Malcom.”
David looked around the audience. “One thing is clear. Capital punishment is a tragedy by itself, but the injustice is increased by the fact that man isn’t responsible for his actions.”
“But you can’t blame the poor conservatives if they don’t agree,” Fielding said. “Can you, Mister Malcom?” The audience laughed.
David took a drink of water, and smiled at Fielding. “You’re right, Mister Fielding, they can’t help being ignorant of the facts.”
Fielding said, “But capital punishment is your real issue, isn’t it, Mister Malcom?”
“Part of it,” David replied.
“The death penalty is reserved for those who chose to kill,” Fielding said, “an eye for an eye, and a life for a life.”
“But no one makes choices uncoerced by the two factors that shape his life, environment and genetics. I quote from The New York Times, January 5, 1982, by Robert Reinhold.”
David looked at his notes. “‘Psychologists have long debated whether behavior is predominantly governed by environment or genetic heritage. Most agree that both factors play a role, but it is extremely difficult to disentangle them.’”
He looked at the audience.
“But there’s no need to disentangle environment and genetics to know that psychologists believe that we are governed by the two factors, and the most dyed-in-the-wool conservative would have to agree with this fact.”
Fielding broadly smiled and said, “But the most dyed-in-the-wool conservative doesn’t have to agree with anything that comes out of The New York Times.”
The audience cracked up.
David laughed. “I’m sure the article graced the pages of a few conservative rags too, Mister Fielding, perhaps your own.”
“I’m happy to say that it wasn’t in our magazine.” The audience laughed.
David continued. “But since geneticists are proving that we make no capital decisions, there should be no capital punishment. Capital punishment is total punishment for reactions that no one is totally responsible for. Thus, capital punishment is not only unjust, it is illogical.”
“No capital decisions,” Fielding admiringly said, “a nice turn of a phrase, Mister Malcom.”
“I realize that determinism is an ego-deflating trip for the conservative, Mister Fielding,” David said. “It’s tough to admit that- -”
“My ego is in control, Mister Malcom.”
“It’s tough to admit that he had nothing to do with reaching his pinnacle of power,” David went on, “that his parents did it all for him in a state of sexual bliss, that he’s just the lucky recipient of favored genes, passed on to accomplish exactly what they did accomplish. So much for the myth of ‘the self-made man’. Genetics has done away with that fable. After centuries of discussion of free will versus determinism, genetics has finally settled the issue.” He paused for effect. “There has never been a self-made man.”
“But we must punish criminals,” Fielding insisted. “We can’t let them- -”
“Incarcerate them to protect others, yes, rehabilitate them if possible, yes, but punish them--never. Criminals aren’t self-made either, and therefore they are not responsible for their evil deeds. Many other animals kill too, but we don’t exact vengeance on them. We just incarcerate them in a humane way.” He paused. “No animal, man or dog, should be put in a horrific dungeon like San Quentin. That is not a part of civilization.”
“But never punish criminals?”
“Of course not, Mister Fielding,” David replied. “Suppose you forced a man to go on a long journey to a distant land, and he knew nothing about the country, nor what the road signs meant, and he had no road map nor instruction manual. Quite naturally, along the way the man would make mistakes, and he might take the wrong turn a few times.”
He looked directly at Fielding. “Do you think it would be just to punish this man for mistakes he made on a journey that he was forced to take with no map or instruction manual?”
Rubek looked at Fielding, waiting. “I see what you’re getting at,” Fielding replied, “but I don’t think the analogy fits.”
“Then you don’t get it, Mister Fielding,” David said. “The point is, we’re all non-volunteers.”
“Non-volunteers?” Rubek said.
“Yes, man’s first non-choice was being born into the world bloody and crying, and he’s never had a choice since.”
Fielding broadly smiled. “Come now, Mister Malcom, I was told that I came into the world with a big smile on my clean face.”
Laughter erupted all over the auditorium.
David smiled, and waited until the laughter died. “Happy genes, no doubt, and a double dose of a dopamine neurotransmitter,” he said. “You were favored by the genetic gods.”
The audience laughed, and so did Fielding.
“No punishment in your brave new world?” Fielding said, still amazed.
David said that punishing people for mistakes was a vengeful concept of religion, to appease the gods, but it wasn’t logical to punish people who have no control. He said as time went by, punishment worked its way into secular government.
“But punishment isn’t practical,” David said. “It breeds hostility toward law, and in such an environment, the human animal will never become civilized.”
“Hmmn,” Rubek said, “that’s an interesting thought.”
“The people of Earth are like a dysfunctional family that needs help, not punishment,” David continued. “Only a perfect person has the authority to judge another, and in a world full of imperfect people, no one has that authority. We’re not capable of judging others. Most judgments are- -”
“I don’t think you speak for everyone, Mister Malcom, “Fielding interjected.
“Most judgments are based on outward observations, and don’t consider inherent characteristics,” David said, “yet the internal is much more complex than the outer. Because of the complexity of human nature, with tens of thousands of genetic variables, it is literally impossible to design a judicial system capable of administering fairness and justice for the human being. We need to have compassion for one another, for we are not adults. We are but the stumbling children of a deterministic evolution.” He paused. “And we were never created to be judged.”
“And that’s even more interesting,” Rubek said, looking at David. “That would also mean that we’re incapable of judging people in our everyday lives?”
David glanced at Rubek. “Yes, very incapable. We never know all the circumstances of a person’s life. Someone may already be in great pain within, yet we insensitively heap more pain on him.”
For the first time, Fielding seemed at loss for an answer.
David looked at the audience. “We need to examine all of the facts that we now have in genetics and environmental influences,” he passionately said. “We now have empirical evidence of the mechanical workings of determinism and fatalism. And while genetics- -”
“That is a rather large assumption,” Fielding interrupted.
“And while genetics may not be our permanent lot in life, we still must recognize the power of genetic influence to have any hope of modifying our behavior.”
“It sounds convincing, Mister Malcom,” Rubek said, “but what’s your point. Is there any hope?”
“Yes, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said, “does your theory offer hope?”
“Many things won’t change by acknowledging fatalism,” David replied. "We will still have to protect society from those whose genes have gone amiss. There will still be the unfortunate times when we will have to kill someone gone crazy, but we’ll do it in self-defense, and not because the poor soul is guilty of anything.”
“But what about hope?” Rubek asked again.
“Yes, there is hope,” David said, “but we will never understand our humanity, nor have any hope for the future, until we concede that we are not separate from nature. We must accept that we are nature, and thereby subject to its universal principles. Only then will we comprehend why we do what we do.”
“But how will we be better by accepting your view?” Fielding asked. “You haven’t addressed this at all.”
“Even if we accept determinism, it will take years for the power of logic to overcome our emotional reactions,” David replied. “It takes a long time to transform human nature, but our reactions will slowly change. For a long while we will still have the same reflexive emotions, in spite of our belief in fatalism. And we’ll probably always have revulsion for the murderer and the rapist, even though we know that their tragic condition isn’t their fault. We will still have the same desire for revenge when overwhelmed by life’s senseless tragedies, but until we fully realize the power of genetics over our lives, there is little hope for our world.”
He glanced at Fielding. “And there won’t be any better until man quits trying to separate himself from nature.”
“That’s absurd,” Fielding said. “Why would man want to separate himself from nature?”
“Because he could then claim free will,” David answered.
“How so?” Rubek said. “What do you mean?”
David said in modern times it was believed that two separate entities existed, man and nature, but this separation wasn’t fact. It was purely intellectual, for man couldn’t secede from that which he was.
Science taught that nature was instinctive, reactive, and cause and effect proved that reaction ruled, not action. Every animal instinctively did what evolution constructed it to do. The fingers of the guitarist unconsciously flew, and the boxer instinctively bobbed and weaved. It was evident that these were reactions, because human thought was too slow to think of swift actions.
David reminded the audience that man’s body and brain contained the same cosmic substance as the earth and the stars, and man was more than part of nature—he was nature. Yet, because no free will existed in nature, he had excluded himself from the principles of science that he held for the rest of the universe.
And because of deliberation, man confused his slower “actions” with free will, but fast or slow, all were reactions to the causes that affected him. The better, that Fielding asked about, would come when man saw his mistake about nature.
“I think the better has already come,” Fielding said, “and it came long before this so-called mistake about nature that you speak of.”
David looked at the audience. “We are in the universe and the universe is nature, therefore we are nature. There is not man and nature, only nature and its manifestations, and humanity is one of those manifestations. All animals live their lives through reactive instinct, and we are subject to nature’s principles as is everything in the universe. The only real question in the free will debate is—are we part of nature. And since we are nature, the argument is over.”
“No, the argument is not over,” Fielding replied, “but eloquent rhetoric can make anything sound true, and I think- -“
”There are dozens of influences in our lives everyday, of which we have no control at all,” David said. “And only man is vain enough to think that he is free, even when his daily reactions deny this. How many times have we reacted rudely in rush hour traffic, and in embarrassment swore that we would never do it again. How many times- -”
“But everyone doesn’t do that, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said.
“How many times have we tried to quit a tenacious habit and couldn’t do it,” David continued. “And though not in hurry, we sometimes dart into traffic instead of waiting. This is a reaction. Where is our control, our vaunted free will at these times?” He dramatically waved his hand. “There is no free will in all of nature, only the painfully clear, inherent results of eons of evolution.”
Many in the audience were mesmerized.
“All action is involuntary. What we call voluntary action only seems so because we’re aware of it, but all is reaction to circumstance. And the freest man of all is he who acknowledges his genetic character, his universal condition. Only after that reverential awakening can the possibility of freedom come, remote as it might be.”
“It emerges again, Mister Malcom,” Fielding said. “You do believe in the possibility of free will.”
David glanced at Fielding.
“Free will for all, for billions of people, would mean utter chaos in the universe. It would mean a universe gone berserk without singular guidance. Without one controlling mind at the helm, spinning planets and burning stars would madly careen out of orbit.” He paused. “There may be the possibility of free will someday, but that doesn’t do anything for Johnny Stone who’s sitting on death row with an appointment for the gas chamber.”
“Johnny Stone?” Fielding replied. “I’ve heard that you’re trying to get his sentence commuted.”
“Yes, I am. Johnny’s a victim of Huntington’s Chorea.”
“You see everyone as a victim, don’t you, Mister Malcom,” Fielding chided.
“Let’s deal with that conservative attitude once and for all, Mister Fielding,” David shot back. He looked at the audience, speaking slowly and
deliberately. “History reveals nothing more clearly than victimization. The strong against the weak is a simple, but accurate, five-word description of history. Everyday we see victimization in evolution’s jungles, where the lion is called the king of the beasts. This is called the survival of the fittest.” He paused. “We see this in human life too.”
“Evolution is the grand victimizer of all, always sending forth the next dominant species to victimize the current species. But even discounting evolution, millions of people on Earth are victims at any given time.” He paused. “And now that we know that so many are doomed by a deterministic victimization, we should not punish them but show them mercy instead.”
“But then,” Fielding said, “Johnny Stone shouldn’t have made a death row appointment.”
“Johnny never made the appointment to be in his mother’s womb when she was a victim of alcoholism,” David said, “but because of that, Johnny is a victim of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Yet, Johnny has never used alcohol. Johnny also didn’t ask for Huntington’s Chorea.”
He looked at Fielding. “Mister Fielding, would you execute someone for the crime of having diabetes?”
Fielding was dumbfounded. “Of course not.”
David said, “How about the crime of having cancer?” Fielding just shook his head.
“But you would condemn someone who inherited criminal tendencies from his father,” David said. “So of all the parts of the body you only condemn the brain, is that it? Every other part can be faulty without blame, but not thinking.”
“That’s correct, Mister Malcom,” said Fielding.
But Rubek was quiet and thoughtful. “Gentlemen, we only have a few more minutes,” he said.
David glanced at his watch and said, “Mister Fielding, before we part tonight, I want to commend you on your single greatest accomplishment, which was an excellent example of your belief in free will.”
Fielding broadly smiled, toying with his pencil. “Why do I sense deception here?”
Rubek and the audience laughed.
David smiled. “If Johnny made his appointment, you must’ve made yours.”
“I’ve made a few good choices,” Fielding replied.
“I admire the way you pulled it off, Mister Fielding.”
“And what was that?” Fielding asked.
Rubek smiled, crossed his arms, and leaned back to enjoy.
David shook his head, pretending admiration. “It was marvelous to behold, Mister Fielding, the way you avoided being born blind, or without arms. You chose to be born in America instead of a third world country, and you chose to have refined, wealthy parents who were wise enough to prepare you for the good life. And the oil fortune amassed by your grandfather, that was a good choice that you influenced your grandfather to make, even though you weren’t yet born. That enabled your father to raise you in comfortable circumstances in France, England, and the United States. And your early education by private tutors, then at an English boys’ school, and you attended a preparatory school in New York. Amazing choices you helped your father make, again before you were born.” David paused.
“And you spent a year at Arizona State University, and you entered Yale. And it was amazing the way you insisted—when you were only three years old—that your father set up a multimillion-dollar trust fund for you. That was an extremely good idea you had.”
David looked directly at Fielding. “But you didn’t stop there. Oh no, you capped it off by making yourself a member of the ruling race. You’re a six foot tall male with white skin and blue eyes, Mister Fielding, a brilliant choice. And giving yourself an IQ of one hundred and fifty, that was a masterpiece too.”
“I don’t know that it’s that high,” Fielding said, “perhaps a point or two off.” His eyes widened as he broadly smiled, but little laughter came from the audience.
David looked around the auditorium. “I can see why you defend free will, because your choices were amazing.” He looked at Fielding. “And then the greatest miracle of it all, the final touch. It’s worth repeating.” He looked directly at the audience. “You pulled off all of this before you were even born. You directed your own birth, your choice of parents, culture, nationality, and sex.” David dramatically paused, and spoke very deliberately. “And in spite of your amazing good fortune, Mr. Thomas A. Fielding, the third, you still believe that all men are created equal.”
Applause echoed throughout the building.
Shortly after, the debate ended. But the real battle, the war to save the lives of Johnny and Roy, was nearing the critical stage.
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