Miss Buddha (44 page)

“One minute,” said the producer. Federico
looked over at Ruth again, who in turn looked back at him, still as
anything. Ready indeed.

Here came the production assistant holding
up five fingers: “Five.” Four fingers: “Four.” Then just the
fingers: three, two, one, and that one now firing at him with the
meaning: Go.

Which he did.

“Unless you’ve just returned from a long
trip to the South Pole, or Mars, you will have heard, or seen, or
read about the recent Cal Tech EPROM experiment,” he said,
addressing both the camera and the audience, which laughed
obligingly, and just the right amount.

“And,” he continued, “at the center of this
storm, this divine revelation, is a young—and let me add,
beautiful—girl, Ruth Marten.”

Applause.

He now turned toward her. “Seventeen, and by
all accounts a genius. Have I got that right?”

“By what accounts?” said Ruth. Right away,
and without a shiver. She seemed genuinely curious, though.

“By what accounts?” He was surprised into
repeating.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Federico glanced down at his notes.
“You transferred from Pasadena Polytechnic to Cal Tech at fourteen.
That’s a bit precocious, don’t you think? Or don’t you agree?”

“I have a knack for physics,” said Ruth.

“So they say.”

“Who’s they?” As right away, and as
commanding of an answer.

For the briefest of moments Federico looked
like he had been bitten. Then said, again consulting his notes,
“Kristina Medina, for one.”

“Is she here?” asked Ruth, again shielding
her eyes from the lights with her hand and peeking into the
audience, which laughed at the gesture.

“I don’t know,” said Federico.

But Ruth had spotted her in the front row,
and now waved. Kristina waved back. The audience laughed again,
enjoying the exchange.

Federico smiled, he had to. Then asked, “You
asked that the particle physics department at MIT replicate the
test, is that right?”

“That is right.”

“But isn’t it true that MIT had to do the
experiment twice, why was that?”

Before Ruth could answer, Federico added,
“Was it because the first set of tests were a complete
failure?”

“Yes,” said Ruth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it was because their first set of
tests was a complete failure.”

“Because it did not verify your
findings?”

“That’s correct.”

“So you told them to do it again?”

“That’s what we did.”

“Asking MIT to do the test again just
because it didn’t verify your findings isn’t very scientific, is
it?”

“Do you know the difference between EPROM
and Flash Memory?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the difference?”

Her question, again, demanded an answer, and
he virtually heard himself say, “Flash Memory is the newer of the
two technologies.”

“True. What else?”

“Flash has a much higher density?” He was
guessing here.

“True. What else?”

“That’s about it.”

“No, that’s not about it. The singular—and,
as far as our experiment is concerned, crucial—difference between
EPROM and Flash is that EPROM requires ultraviolet light for
erasure, while Flash only requires additional electricity.”

Federico again consulted his notes. “Right
you are.”

“Right I am.”

This got another cheerful laugh from the
audience, and Ruth again looked in Kristin Medina’s direction, and
also spotted some other people she knew, her mom among them. She
waved at them, too. Then she turned back to Federico, and
continued, before he could ask the next question:

“MIT were using Flash memory in their first
set of tests. There was some mix-up with their EPROM supply. Our
EPROM experiment was called an ‘EPROM experience’ for a fairly
obvious reason.”

Another brief audience
giggle cut her off, but she soon picked up the thread, “We did the
experiment using EPROMs, that’s the only kind of memory that nature
cannot revise after the fact. That is why we asked MIT to do their
tests again, using EPROMs this time. They did, and as soon as they
actually ran our experiment
as
done
—as we had described it and requested
it be run—they verified our findings.”

“Or so you say.”

“Or so MIT says.”

Federico took a long look at this seemingly
unflappable girl. He had underestimated her, gravely. Those
incredibly blue eyes met his, and did not waver. A challenge. No,
more like curiosity. And laughing. Or, if not laughing, at least
mocking. She smiled and shifted in the chair, waiting for the next
question, which he had to come up with fast.

Looking first at Ruth, and then into the
camera, he said, “Several renowned physicists have gone on record
calling your experiment a spoof, a stunt.”

Ruth did not rise to the bait of the
insinuated question, and was obviously waiting for more to come—so
he had to state it.

“Why on earth would you pull a stunt like
this? What’s in it for you, or your mother?”

Federico noted that she flinched ever so
slightly on the mention of her mother. A chink in the armor?

“Is that the question?” She said.

“Yes, that’s the question.”

“Why on earth would I pull a stunt like
this? And what’s in it for me, or my mother?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Ruth shifted again, then swept back her hair
with her hand. “You are right, Mr. Alvarez, several renowned
physicists and institutions have expressed disbelief. Among them
research teams at Fermilab in Illinois and at CERN in
Switzerland—primarily, I guess, for political rather than
scientific reasons. Some questions have been raised by those who
have not had the chance to fully familiarize themselves with the
facts and details. Others still, I’d venture to assume, have been
paid very well to fuel controversy, which I assume is good for
ratings. Isn’t it?”

And before Federico could respond, Ruth went
on, “And as to what’s in it for me, or for my mom: The truth.
That’s all. The goal of all science, and the goal of both
philosophy and religion as well. The truth.”

Federico’s strategy had been to first cast
his famous doubt upon the experiment itself, and upon the quote
verifications unquote, which he would frame by index and long
fingers slashing the air, enlisting the many articles and reports
that questioned—some politely, some mockingly, some
outrageously—the veracity of the EPROM experiment findings.

Then, with the young girl reeling from this
onslaught, he would move in for the kill and expose the ludicrous
claim that she was the Buddha, for that is what she claimed
wrapping up her paper: “Those who have woken up to this fact are
called Buddhas.” And, “Those who have notions of this fact are
called artists. Those who see none of these facts are called
humans. I am awake.”

And “I am awake,” meaning precisely that: I
am the Buddha. Ridiculous, of course, and an invitation to
exposure.

But the girl wasn’t reeling. Not in the
least. Calm as anything, and those too-blue, mocking eyes, as if
asking whether that was the best he could do. Well, it wasn’t. Far
from it. He had done his homework, lots of it.

And so the fighter in him stirred more fully
awake, smiled, and said, “It’s a big word that: the truth.”

“Yes, it is.”

“About once a year,” he said. “Sometimes
more often, we hear the clamor from some part or other of the
country—or the world, for that matter—that Jesus has returned. We
hear that the end is near, and that the savior has come back in the
flesh to lead his flock back home. And every time this happens we
pull the string only find some lunatic at the end of it, fit for
the spin bin.”

Ruth drew breath to answer or comment, but
Federico held up his hand. “Now, you’ve gone one better in your
paper.”

“What do you mean?”

The he laughed, “I mean seriously: the
Buddha?”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps I’m reading
between the lines, but I don’t think so. That’s what you say at the
end of the paper. That
you
are awake. And that those who are awake are
Buddhas. That’s how you end your paper: ‘I am awake.’ A point
you’re stressing.

Ruth shifted again, and again swung her hair
back with her splayed fingers. “What if it were true?”

“What? That you’re Jesus? That you’re a
lunatic?”

“That I’m a Buddha.”

Federico looked up and out over the
audience, “Is there a doctor in the house?”

Some laughed outright—small explosions, some
laughed politely, some laughed with embarrassment because they were
expected to, or felt they were, some laughed not at all.

Finally, Federico thought, finally I’ve made
a dent in her. And pressed his advantage. “We’ve already
established that you’re a smart girl. So, by definition, you’re not
stupid. But, apparently, that doesn’t disqualify you as a lunatic.
I mean, come on Ruth, the Buddha?”

“A Buddha,” she said.

“The Buddha. A Buddha. What’s the
difference? The Jesus, a Jesus. The lunatic, a lunatic. It escapes
me.”

Ruth straightened in her chair and asked,
“Have you actually read the paper, Mr. Alvarez?”

“Of course. Several times.”

“I take it you don’t give it much
credence.”

“I find bits of it hard to swallow, that’s
true.”

“What bits?”

“The nothing’s there bit. Unless we
look.”

“Hard to swallow or not, the results bore
out in four independent labs.”

“I don’t think that’s been impartially
verified.”

“You don’t trust MIT, or UCLA?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve been around long enough
to know that you can buy pretty much anything these days.”

“Meaning?”

Before Federico had a chance to reply the
producer cut in in his earpiece, “Fifteen seconds to commercial.
Segue, please.”

“Meaning,” said Federico, now facing the
camera. “Meaning that it’s time to offer up some more things to
buy. But stay right where you are, we’ll be right back after these
words from our sponsors.”

During the sixty seconds that followed,
Federico did not look at Ruth, but busied himself with his notes.
Ruth looked over at Kristina and Melissa, and also caught Julian’s
eye. He tried to tell her something, but she could not make it out.
Ananda was looking at Federico, slowly shaking his head. Not in an
I-told-you-so way, but sadly.

The producer returned to Federico’s
earpiece, “Ten seconds, nine, eight.”

Federico stacked his papers again his lap,
and looked into the camera, “And we’re back.” Then over to Ruth,
“You were saying?”

“You were actually saying,” said Ruth.

“I was saying what?”

“You were saying ‘Meaning’ and were about to
imply that we had bought the test results from MIT, UCLA, QUT, and
KTH?”

“Is it so far-fetched?”

“Of course it’s so far-fetched?”

“Research takes money,” said Federico.

“Yes it does.”

“And every little bit helps, no?”

“Have you ever heard of honesty, Mr.
Alvarez?”

“Of course…”

“None of these research facilities would
sell out, no matter what the enticement. None would violate the
researcher’s integrity.”

“That’s your opinion?”

“That’s my opinion. And I believe that if
you personally called the heads of these institutions, they would
gladly come on the show and state as much in person.”

Federico looked down at his notes again,
flipped to the second, then third page. “Johnston 1976. Frost 2011.
Blackburn 2012. Tindler 2021.”

Ruth shook her head. “Never heard of
them.”

“Each one investigated for, and found guilty
of, fraud. Each expelled from UCLA, MIT, QUT, and KTH respectively
for the very thing we’re discussing right now, for accepting money
to influence a result.”

“I have not,” began Ruth.

“So, it is not so absolutely unheard of as
you want us to believe, is it, Ms. Marten?”

“What were the circumstances?”

“My producer will be happy to supply you the
particulars after the show,” he said. “My point is that not only is
your experiment and the results you claim so far removed from
reason as to be ludicrous, but you also—and carefully, from what I
can make out—selected institutions known for fraudulent research to
verify your findings.”

“I’d like the particulars now,” said
Ruth.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Can you tell me what they were, in each
instance.”

“We don’t have the time for that.”

“That strikes me as rather convenient,” said
Ruth.

A few in the audience giggled.

“Trust me,” said Federico, “the particulars
bear out, and tend to support that you selected institutions you
could manipulate to verify your results.”

After a brief and pregnant silence, Ruth
said:

“I have a question.”

“All right.”

“I know that you are
aware—since this is very much by design—that you convey the
impression to the audience and to the viewer that these four
institutions are the only labs to ever, in the entire history of
research, have employed individuals who ended up selling out. Have
you investigated
any
other institutions so as to verify that each and every one of
those are utterly clean and free of such instances of fraud or
questionable behavior?”

“You have to understand, we did not have the
time.”

“Again, rather convenient. And, by the way,
one of the reasons I agreed to this interview was your—or your
station’s—very generous monetary offer. Frankly, we could do with
the money.”

“Because you had spent what you had on these
bribes?”

“Now, that’s truly ridiculous.”

“I agree. The whole thing is
ridiculous.”