Entanglement

ENTANGLEMENT

ALSO BY GREGG BRADEN

BOOKS

Deep Truth
The Divine Matrix
Fractal Time
The God Code
The Isaiah Effect
^*
Secrets of the Lost Mode of Prayer
The Spontaneous Healing of Belief

CD PROGRAMS

An Ancient Magical Prayer
(with Deepak Chopra)
Awakening the Power of a Modern God
Deep Truth
(abridged audio book)
The Divine Matrix
(abridged audio book)
The Divine Name
(with Jonathan Goldman)
Fractal Time
(abridged audio book)
The Gregg Braden Audio Collection
^*
Speaking the Lost Language of God
The Spontaneous Healing of Belief
(abridged audio book)
Unleashing the Power of the God Code

*All the above are available from Hay House
except items marked with an asterisk.

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Copyright © 2012 by Gregg Braden

Published and distributed in the United States by:
Hay House, Inc.:
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Cover design:
Mario San Miguel •
Interior design:
Julie Davison

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use—other than for “fair use” as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews—without prior written permission of the publisher.

The authors of this book do not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the authors is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the authors and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or deceased, is strictly coincidental.

Library of Congress Control Number:
2012937084

Tradepaper ISBN:
978-1-4019-3783-6
Digital ISBN:
978-1-4019-3784-3

15  14  13  12    4  3  2  1
1st edition, June 2012

Printed in the United States of America

“Science cannot
solve the ultimate
mystery of nature.
And that is because,
in the last analysis,
we ourselves are a part
of the mystery …”

— M
AX
P
LANCK

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

CHAPTER 1

Whistling, a janitor wielded an old-fashioned string mop in front of him as he worked his way down a silent high school hallway. He was slender and in his 60s, grateful to have a steady job, unlike so many others in his family. He came from western Jamaica, where work was scarce. As he worked, he daydreamed about the mists of the Blue Mountains near where he was born.

Out the windows bloomed another San Francisco April—cloudless, mild, the trees a tender green. The janitor passed the administrative offices, busy with the soft clicking of computer keyboards, then the empty lobby—a long, silent stretch of glass cases. These were filled with trophies from the school's students that had accumulated over the 50 years of its existence; basketball and football awards were the most common.

The rest of the cases held photographs of students and faculty now gone. They began with the bright Kodachromes of the early '60s—yellow-haired cheerleaders with pink lips and red outfits—and ended with digital photos, printed on streaked paper. Along the way, every style of the last half century seemed to be represented—country western, hippie, punk rock, goth, and every variant in between.

Several faces stood out from the hundreds showcased. One female graduate from 1969 had an Afro so massive that it exceeded the photograph's frame. A blond boy from the '70s was a dead ringer for John Denver, with a moptop haircut and granny glasses. A more recent photo was of a fresh-faced boy with high cheekbones, a pierced nose, and a face both handsome and sensitive, his flowing tresses tucked behind his ears. Beside this was a photo with the same face, unpierced, with shorter hair and a more intense expression. These images had stopped many visitors who did double takes of these young men—the only identical twins in the 2005 graduating class.

As the janitor moved on, he passed by the science classrooms on the first floor. In the first, Mr. Hadley, a dinosaur of a teacher with thick black-framed glasses and a droning voice, was putting another class to sleep with his explanation of the Pleistocene epoch. Most of the students had their heads down on their desks; others sent texts from their laps.

In the next room, a new teacher in her 20s, prim and Southern, tried to control a class of boisterous older students as she discussed the intricacies of cross-pollination. A diagram of a stamen and pistil were on the front board, but no one was paying attention. Several students near the doorway were occupied with fast-food breakfasts; one poured syrup over a stack of pancakes in a Styrofoam container. Cell phones buzzed and beeped.

The last classroom in the hallway was different; it seemed to be stopped in time. A Bunsen burner flamed in a corner. A diagram of an atom hung on the wall; a chart of the solar system covered the ceiling. The chalkboard was covered with a long, complex formula. The only items that revealed the current era were a row of personal computers lined up against the wall, but no one was using them today.

Instead a dozen students of various shapes and sizes were listening raptly to their teacher, Peter Keller. At 42, his salt-and-pepper hair was tousled, his eyes were a light blue-green, and his white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. There was a rumpled, weary look to his face that did not diminish his vitality. He seemed lit by some passionate inner glow, as he held forth with the grace and nimbleness of an actor.

Keller's students listened to him intently as he measured two ounces of water and poured them into an empty soda can. Using tongs, he carefully lowered the can into place over a heated Bunsen burner. Year after year, his introductory physics class was the school's most popular, often with a waiting list in case someone dropped out, though that rarely happened. He had a reputation for kindling in students a new respect for and interest in science. Perhaps because of this, many of them developed long-term secret crushes on him, though he barely noticed and never encouraged them. In fact, outside the classroom, Keller was quiet, shy, and somewhat mysterious.

Standing behind a lab table, he now turned to his students.

“Let me ask you a question. Why does a man float when you throw him into the water, but a book sinks?”

A husky boy named Eddie Campos, who sported a blond mohawk and was the class clown, said, “I don't float. I tried swimming once. I'm telling you, I sank like a stone.”

The students laughed.

“Mr. Campos, let me put it this way, then: why does everybody except you float, while a book sinks?”

“Density,” Eddie answered.

“Thank you. Clearly you're not so dense. So I have no idea why you don't float.”

The students chuckled again. There was an intimate, congenial feeling in the classroom.

Eddie asked, “Isn't density also why fancy drinks with layers work?”

“Yes. But unfortunately, fancy drinks with layers won't be on the final. Any other random questions while we wait?”

A slight, green-eyed boy wearing a hooded sweatshirt raised his hand.

“Yes, Colin?”

“When do we get to quantum physics?”

“After we finish with standard physics . . . which, at the rate we're going, should be sometime around 2017.”

“I hear that quantum physics makes time travel possible. I'd be into that.”

Peter smiled. “Right, so did you want to go to the future or the past?”

“I think the past—when things were more simple.”

“Really?” Keller said. “So you'd like to read by candlelight; warm yourself by a fire, assuming you had enough wood or coal; and travel by foot or horse, so you'd essentially remain in the same area all your life. Oh, also hunt for your own food—in other words, shoot it or fish for it—or go hungry. You're pining for that?”

Colin smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “Not when you put it that way.”

“Well, that, my friend, isn't the way
I'd
put it; that's the way life has been in most places until the last hundred years or so, and some places even now.” The teacher looked out the window for a moment, in contemplation. “Actually, Einstein's theories do suggest that time travel is possible; however, there are a few glitches to work out, so not anytime soon. Next question?”

Colin continued, “But isn't it true that there's so much space inside an atom that we should be able to walk through walls?”

“Theoretically, yes. But the probability is so absurdly infinitesimal that you'd have to try for an extremely long time. You're welcome to give it a shot. There's a wall right back there, Mr. Morley.”

Peter gestured to a wall at the back of the room, inviting Colin to try.

Colin smiled and shook his head.

Monica Bennett, a nervous, soft-voiced brunette, raised her hand. Mr. Keller pointed to her.

“What happened before the Big Bang?”

The alpha girl in class—the tall, angular, dark-haired Jane Sinclair—snickered. “That's a stupid question,” she scoffed.

Keller gave her a narrow look. “Is it a question you know the answer to, Ms. Sinclair?”

“Well …” She blushed to the roots of her hair and lowered her eyes, indicating that she didn't.

“Well, neither do I,” Keller said. “If anyone figures it out, they win the Nobel Prize, and the winner has to take me to Stockholm.”

John Segal, a jock with an impish face, leaned back in his chair.

“My older brother had you, and he said that you used to work for the government building bombs or something. Is that true?”

“Who's your brother?”

“David Segal.”

“
The
David Segal who got caught smoking pot behind the portables?”

“Uh, yeah.”

There was general laughter.

“I think your brother confused the building of bongs with the building of bombs, somehow,” Peter mused, widening his eyes for effect. The students chuckled.

“Next question.”

Monica Bennett raised her hand.

“Yes?” Peter asked.

“I think the water's boiling.”