An Ecology of MInd (25 page)

The pavement that Kim was standing on suddenly seemed to liquefy and Kim dropped into the ground. The pavement solidified and returned to normal above her,
once she was gone. Nobody in the area noticed a thing.

She was underground and moving rapidly. She had perfected a process of holding the ground a little farther out from her body rigid and then making the
ground closer to her flow so that it projected her quickly through the ground. Since she held the ground a few feet away from her rigidly in place, there
was no vibration that could travel to things like seismic measuring devices. She could quickly get around the planet without being detected. Flying usually
did not have that stealth feature.

Kim had perfected this method of underground travel, to the extent that she could travel at well beyond supersonic speeds. She had thought about sending a
drone, but she did not want to send the one she had parked below Washington because it was busy monitoring a great many things there. Among them, it
eavesdropped on the NSA supercomputer that monitored almost all electronic communications on the planet. Whatever it could pick up; she was aware of as
well.

Kim was the closest except for others that were busy with things she did not want to stop at present. Some of their tasks had just become potentially more
important with this new development.

She sped very rapidly towards her destination. She should arrive a little way north of Detroit in about eight minutes.

DR. MICHAEL PEARSON RODE IN THE FRONT passenger seat. The window was rolled down, and his arm was hanging out the window on his side. Professor Wales was
driving. It was beautiful warm fall day outside, and the leaves were at their peak fall coloring. Michael was enjoying the ride, and felt calm and relaxed.

"I liked your lecture today Michael. You always come up with new material or with different ways of looking at information I already know. I find them as
educational for me as they are for the students. It has been an amazing collection of lectures over the past few years. I wish we thought to start filming
them sooner. We have the three on file, but I wish we had them all. You’ve definitely got enough material with all the different lectures combined to
create an entire course if you wanted."

"Thanks Chris, but I have no interest in teaching a full course. I keep telling you that the only reason I do the seminars is for you." Michael laughed,
"I’m glad that the students enjoy them though. I think it is all very useful material, but you can have vitally important information and still end up
seeming like you are alone in the wilderness talking to scorpions and lizards. I worry when I put the seminars together that I am pushing them too much.
The emotional barriers to much of what I try to get across can sometimes be very intense."

"I know it is sometimes difficult for them," said Michael. "Nevertheless, taking them from the rut their thinking is in and getting them to a point where
they at least start to question some of their soft cushy understandings about the world around them is my whole point. Whether its history, science or
politics, the subject doesn't matter, it's taking a fresh look at things and questioning some of your basic assumptions from time to time that's
important."

"When you were a kid, you were always precocious, but I never saw you as turning into such a molder and manipulator of young minds," noted Chris.

"Like I said, I do it for you. You really should pay attention more. I heard old guys like you start losing their mental capacity. Seriously, though, we've
known each other a long time so don't feel you have to sugar coat it. Was the lecture what you hoped or would you prefer a different approach or
direction?"

“No, the level of things you present is good,” Laughed Chris, “I’m old and my mind is not as adaptable. You are probably at the right spot between
comfortable and unfathomable for younger more flexible minds like theirs.”

“Give me a break, I was just giving you a hard time. You have one of the most flexible minds I know of. “

“Thanks, but time and age take its toll on all of us whether we like it or not. Seriously, all kidding aside though, I think your lectures are great and
extremely useful for the students. I get a lot out of them myself, and I hope you will keep returning to do them. I really appreciate it. I know you are
extremely busy.”

“Thanks. I’m happy to do it. To change the topic, what’s new with the family? Is everyone doing well?”

Chris smiled, “Yes, Margaret, Nora and Cody are all good. Margaret’s mother is not doing well, and Margaret has had to go visit her more and more to help
out the last while. She has been alternating visits to her mom with her sister but her mother has been getting worse, and we would not be surprised if
things go downhill fairly fast for her mother in the next while. Nora is well. Her work seems to be keeping her busy and Cody is growing like a weed. I
know they are both looking forward to seeing you.”

“Great, it’s been a while, and I always love seeing them.”

Chris and Michael had a long history. Chris' mother was close friends with Michael’s parents. Chris actually grew up in a cottage on the estate of
Michael's parents. Chris had never been sure exactly what the link between his mother and Michael's parents had been, but he was not aware of anything
sordid. Chris' mother had been older than Michael's parents, but she had been extremely close friends with both. After Chris' mother had died from
pancreatic cancer when Chris was twenty-two, they had both continued the relationship with him. Michael's father was a great mentor to Chris.

A couple of years after Chris' mother had died Michael had been born. Chris still remembered visiting Michael's mother in the hospital after he had been
born and thinking what an ugly prune faced baby he was. Later when Michael had been fifteen, his mother had been killed by a drunk driver in a car
accident. Michael’s father had never fully recovered emotionally from this and had passed away from a heart attack when Michael was seventeen. Chris had
been able to return the favor of the kind treatment they had shown him when his mother had died by acting as foster father to Michael until he had turned,
twenty-one.

It was not a normal foster parenting. Michael had been living in residence at Harvard, having started taking university courses a few years earlier. Chris
had already been a professor in the history department at Harvard, so he had likely seen Michael more than his real father would have.

Michael was more than just a close friend. He was really family in many ways.

Chris slowed the car and turned left into an older subdivision. It was a nice area with many mature trees. The homes were situated on larger lots and set
back from the road. You could see your neighbors and even chat with them if you were outside, but you were not right on top of them like most new
subdivisions, and the houses were individual instead of being cookie cutter constructs. Chris had moved to the area thirty-five years ago, shortly after
marrying Margaret, and before they had Nora. Chris was not a billionaire like Michael and his family, but his mother had left him very comfortable
financially.

Two turns later, they pulled into the driveway. There were two other cars already there, Margaret’s and Nora’s, but there was a still more than enough room
for Chris to park behind them. Nora and Cody were staying the night, so he did not have to worry about blocking them in for now. When the car was parked
Michael got out and opened the rear door to retrieve his carry-on.

“I keep telling you that you don’t have to do that you know.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions with inadequate facts. Just because I usually bring several bottles of wine when I come to visit does not mean that is
what’s in the bag this time.”

“Is it?”

“Yes and no,'' smiled Michael "You said last time I was here that you were starting to enjoy scotches more, so I also added a bottle of scotch. The wine is
for Margaret, and the scotch is for you.”

“Thank you, but again, you don’t have to do that. I do enjoy what you bring though. I can never seem to find them at the store.”

“That’s because I take them out of the wine cellar at home to make room. You don’t think I’d waste good store bought stuff on you do you?”

“My god, the stuff is probably worth a fortune. Your father had one of the best wine cellars in the country.”

“What good is the stuff if you don’t drink it, and I can’t think of any people I’d rather drink it with or give it to more.”

“Margaret’s been using some of it for cooking, we didn’t realize.”

“Do you like her cooking?”

“Of course but to use rare wines like that is a waste.”

“I like her cooking too and don’t consider it a waste. Don’t tell her. Just keep on like you’ve been doing. I’m serious Chris, don’t tell her. It will only
fluster her and like I said, I can’t think of a better use for it than drinking and using in excellent cooking. If you need any for a party or anything,
just let me know, and I’ll have some cases delivered.”

Chris looked at him to see if he was joking, but he didn’t seem to be. “Okay,''” he smiled “we'll just keep enjoying and thank you very much.” He knew
Michael well, and he had learned from Michael’s father that the super rich often valued experiences, relationships and true friendship above expensive
things which were frequently trivial expenses to them. Not all rich people were that way, but money did get so that it was almost meaningless to them.
Questioning the gift or protesting too much would merely sour the joy Michael got out of giving it.

They got to the front door, and Chris held it open. When Michael entered, there were two cats over by the stairway to the basement. One was a dark grey and
white color, and the other was a caramel and white color. The caramel colored cat looked at Michael and gave him a big hiss then ran down the stairs to the
basement. "Hi Bing, bye Bing," called Michael after the fleeing cat. The grey cat watched the other run away then turned back and glided over to Michael to
greet him.

Michael crouched down. "How's my buddy, Bubba today?" he asked as he petted the cat and rubbed under its chin while the cat looked as if he was enjoying
the attention.

"Don't mind Bing, and don't take it personally, he doesn't seem to like men. He even hisses at me when I bring his food to him. He seems much better with
Margaret, Nora and other women," said Chris apologetically.

"I don't mind. That's just the way Bing has always been with me. Now Bubba, he's friendly and always seems happy to see me, don't you Bubba?" Michael gave
Bubba a quick more couple pats and then stood up.

"Yeah" laughed Chris "Bubba is friendly with everybody."

Chris' wife, Margaret came out of the kitchen with a welcoming smile on her face.

“Michael, good to see you.”

Michael placed the bag with the wine and scotch and a few clothes as he was staying overnight, down on the hardwood floor and gave Margaret a big hug.
“Good to see you too Margaret. When are you going to leave this old fuddy duddy and run off with me?”

“I still have hope I can train him someday so I think I'll keep him for now. Besides I couldn’t keep up with you.”

“What are you making for dinner?”

Margaret laughed, “Now your real interest comes out, and it only took about ten seconds. To answer your question though, chateaubriand.”

“Mmmmm, I can hardly wait. I’ve got a wine in here for you that will go really nicely with that.”

“Great, you are always so good at wine selection. We try to find things like you do, but we are just not huge wine people and don’t really know what we are
doing when it comes to selection. We pretty much only know two choices, red and white.”

“Well, if you find any, in particular, that you like among the ones I bring let me know, and I will send you a couple of cases over. I already offered to
Chris but just bypass him. He will never remember to do it. I hear Nora and Cody will be here, and I saw her car out front.”

“Yes. Cody is watching television down in the basement, and I think Nora was upstairs freshening up.”

“Great, it's been even longer since I saw them last than when I saw you two. Do you need a hand with anything in the kitchen?”

“Thanks, but I think I have it under control for now. I'll get back to it, and you relax and have a drink with Chris.”

“Okay, but don’t hesitate if you need help or just want company in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Michael, you’re a sweetheart, but I’m fine, go have a drink, and we will chat at dinner.”

“Okay, Chris, if you take the wine into the kitchen I can go into the study and pour us a couple of glasses of that scotch I brought you.”

“Sounds good to me, I’ll be right with you. You know the way and where the glasses are.”

Michael opened up the carry on and handed Chris four bottles of wine, and then he took out a bottle of scotch in an odd-shaped bottle and left the bag by
the door. He went past the living room and down the hall to Chris’ study. He went straight to the small bar in an armoire type of cabinet and placed the
bottle of scotch on the shelf. He took out two glasses and after opening the bottle he poured about a third of a glass of scotch into each. He did not add
any water or ice. That was the only way to enjoy the scotch as far as he was concerned.