The Unhappy Medium 3: Wretched Things: A Supernatural Comedy, page 47
‘Eric?’
‘Well,’ answered Sagan, ‘a bit higher up the chain than that. Eric, bless him. Lovely guy and all that, but he’s hardly the man to talk to about the deeper stuff. Very emotional soul, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
‘I might have spotted that, yes,’ replied Newton. ‘So, who …?’
‘Can’t tell you that,’ said Hitchens. ‘Sorry. There are some things you’re just not ready for. Let’s do this by the book, eh?’
‘If you insist,’ nodded Newton reluctantly. ‘So, what can you tell me?’
‘Well,’ continued Hitchens, ‘after some of the most drawn out and circular discussions any of us have ever experienced, it was agreed, finally, that you’d do your job infinitely better if we filled in a few of the bigger blanks.’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling them!’ exclaimed Newton.
‘Quite,’ said Sagan. ‘So, what do you want to know then?’
‘Er …,’ replied Newton, thinking for a second. ‘Give me … everything!’
‘Ha!’ laughed Randi. ‘We can’t do that!’
‘But I don’t know which bits I want to know,’ protested Newton. ‘Because … I don’t know them.’
‘Ech! Don’t play vith poor Dr Barlow,’ chided the suddenly manifesting form of Albert Einstein, waving his finger reproachfully. ‘I think he has had more than enough of the Purgatorian vaffle. Get on vith it, tell him about the Beta issue.’
‘The Beta?’ asked Newton. ‘And hello, Albert. Love your work.’
‘Danke,’ replied the physicist, morphing back into Carl Sagan. ‘Danke.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Sagan, ‘the Beta. Well, if we’re to explain that, we need to clarify a few issues first. Reality, for instance – this reality you are experiencing, Dr Barlow – is real. It’s not a dream, or a hallucination or the fevered imaginings of a mental illness. No, all this crazy, spooky nonsense … it’s as real as anything ever is. Now, I realise there are times when it can feel like a dream, a pretty bad dream at that, but sadly, it really is one hundred percent … real. Now I realise that, like us, you’d have preferred a much less demon-haunted world, but this is what you actually get. It’s not going to be particle accelerators and quantum entanglements anymore, Dr Barlow; it’s going to be this. This new abnormal … is the new normal. Lord only knows how much time and effort we’ve all spent trying to unpick this abnormal since we died, but in the end, the truth is, we all gave up.’
‘But … but … you were Carl Sagan!’ wailed Newton, ‘One of the most logical, questioning men to have ever lived. How can you, of all people, just … give up?
‘I still am Carl Sagan,’ insisted Carl Sagan. ‘I’m still all those things deep down. And Mr Randi, here, he is still Mr Randi. The same goes for Hitch, Albert and all the rest. Even your namesake, the great Sir Isaac Newton … he’s still his old enquiring self.’
‘That’s correct, good sir,’ said Sir Isaac, making a fleeting appearance.
‘What has changed,’ continued Carl Sagan, ‘is that we have all had to adapt our beliefs to this bizarre but observable “reality”.’
‘And how the hell did you do that?’ demanded Newton.
‘Well, … let me ask you,’ asked Sagan. ‘Why has science been so very important to humanity?’
‘Blimey …,’ gasped Newton. ‘BIG question. How long have you got?’
‘Summarise,’ suggested Sagan.
‘Well … ok,’ answered Newton. ‘It’s a light … in the darkness.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, all the fear, horror, doubt … the sheer confusion of existence. Science removes all that.’
‘Some,’ corrected Sagan. ‘But some might say religion can also offer that.’
‘Yeah, well, they would say that,’ snorted Newton. ‘The difference is that religion soothes by pretending to know, science cures using dispassionate observable facts, learning and acting upon what is actually seen and measured in the world around us. Give me medicine over faith healing any day.’
‘Right,’ said Sagan. ‘A noble enough paradigm, of course. But what if that accumulated learning turns out to be way off track? What happens then to such noble aims?’
‘Well, then they weren’t noble enough,’ answered Newton. ‘Obviously.’
‘Reality can only be what it is, Dr Barlow,’ sighed Sagan. ‘No amount of effort on our part would have changed that. Our aims were as noble as they could be. The truth is, we were very, very wrong.’
‘Amen,’ added James Randi, sadly.
‘It’s hard, I know,’ continued Sagan. ‘It will take you time to digest the horrible truth that the effort to learn, to reach for reason, even if there is no point whatsoever, … is the point.’
‘It …. is?’ asked the pained Newton.
‘It really is,’ replied Hitchens. ‘Newton, old boy, look at the world right now. Religious and racial intolerance, superstitious gaslighting, crime, murder, Love Island … there’s a war going on, a war between logic and the most basic of human instincts.’
‘But you’re also telling me that the very fundamentals of reason are dead ends … a cul de sac,’ wailed Newton. ‘A lie!’
‘Yes …, and no,’ explained Sagan.
‘Well, that’s cleared that up,’ said Newton, rolling his eyes.
‘It’s a bit hard to grasp,’ admitted Sagan. ‘Especially for a man of science such as yourself, but it turns out that humanity, such as it is, needs to demonstrate its validity. It needs to prove its worth by striving for a scientific, rational universe when there isn’t one, because only through that effort can there ever be a real rational scientific universe.’
‘Nope.’ Newton shook his head. ‘That’s actually made it harder. Demonstrate its validity? Demonstrate to who?’
‘Um …. Er…,’ replied Hitchens, blushing with professional shame. ‘Higher powers.’
‘GOD?’ asked Newton. ‘Did history’s most rabid atheist just tell me that there is … a God?’
‘I didn’t say “God”,’ corrected Hitchens. ‘I said “higher powers”. And no, I don’t know the details. None of us does. As far as we know, it could just be another whole wing of the Purgatorians.’
‘All we can tell you,’ added Sagan, ‘is that this iteration of existence is utterly dependent upon humanity improving through the growth of reason; reason, critical thinking and sceptical enquiry.’
‘Er … but ….’
‘I know … I know,’ said Sagan, holding up his hands. ‘It’s a bit of a contradiction. But that’s the idea, you see. To make people better, by making them think.’
‘But think about what?’ exclaimed Newton. ‘You’re telling me that physics, biology – reality, the maths and physics behind everything – none of it is actually … real. Well, if that’s the case, then why is there science … at all?’
‘Oh, that stuff does exist,’ continued Sagan. ‘All of it. There IS gravity, there ARE quantum strings, there IS DNA. But it’s been put there. Put there for us to find.’
‘Put there?’
‘That’s correct,’ replied Sagan. ‘It was put there.’
‘To make us smarter,’ added Hitchens. ‘Like crossword puzzles in a newspaper. Brain teasers to sharpen the mind. That kind of thing.’
‘But you don’t know who put them there?’ asked Newton.
‘Nope,’ answered James Randi. ‘At least, not yet. Not in this iteration.’
‘Iterations? You mean like dimensions? Is this one of many multiple dimensions?’
‘Iterations … not dimensions. Iterations as in tests … experiments … versions,’ explained Sagan.
‘There are others?’
‘There have indeed been others,’ said Hitchens. ‘And they failed.’
‘Failed?’ asked Newton. ‘Failed how?’
‘Because they … we … we didn’t get smarter,’ replied Hitchens. ‘That’s why.’
‘Humanity, heaven help us,’ lamented Sagan, shaking his head in despair, ‘is its own worst enemy.’
‘Not gonna argue that one,’ agreed Newton.
‘Each iteration,’ continued Sagan, ‘each Beta … ended in failure. All dragged into an entropic heat death through the failure of our species to rise above its baser instincts.’
‘Just how many “Betas” are we talking about?’ asked Newton.
‘Six hundred and five,’ answered Sagan. ‘So I am told. This is the six hundred and sixth.’
‘And … the last,’ added Einstein.
‘The last!?’ exclaimed Newton. ‘What do you mean this is the last?’
‘Literally that,’ replied Sagan. ‘If we don’t get it right this time, there will never be another.’
‘Blimey,’ gasped Newton.
‘Which is why,’ Hitchens went on, ‘we have to go all out in defeating stupidity, expanding consciousness, and lifting humanity into reason.’
‘The Purgatorians?’ asked Newton.
‘Purgatory is indeed an element in that,’ agreed Sagan. ‘Yes. It is how we can try to manage the worst of humanity, both alive and dead. It is where reputations and memory are managed, in an effort to filter out the poisonous, the mean, the narcissistic and the psychotic, to finally remove such things from what we laughingly call our “human condition”.’
‘Which,’ added Christopher Hitchens, reappearing, ‘is where you come in.’
‘It is?’
‘It is,’ confirmed Hitchens. ‘You’ve seen the Purgatorians in action. Well-meaning to a tee, of course, but bumbling, inefficient and utterly hopeless. Compared to most bad guys, they’re a walkover, aren’t they? Dammit, the average school bully could outthink Eric the Greek. Newton, they need us. They need great minds, like us, like you, even though we were, and are, completely wrong about almost everything.’
‘Not wrong, Hitch,’ added Sagan, reproachfully. ‘I’m not having that. We did what the higher powers wanted us to do; to grow sharp on the puzzles and challenges they’d had left for us in the wider cosmos. Every fossil, each complex molecule, free radical and chemical formula … we found them. We found them … because they wanted us to find them. We grew smart, and we grew wise, just as they knew we would. That’s not wrong. That’s right! Now the time has come to use the intellectual muscle that we have grown in this thinking person’s gymnasium, to employ our mental abilities in this ludicrous universe, and make the Beta work.’
‘Let me summarise,’ said Newton. ‘We scientists have grown intellectually fat on things that actually don’t really matter, so we can help save a Beta of the cosmos from the entropic march of evil?’
‘Exactly,’ exclaimed Hitchens. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, and I’m really smart.’
‘We’re all smart,’ declared Einstein. ‘Get over yourself.’
‘But … evil …,’ asked Newton, his mind a runaway milk float. ‘Is it really that bad? I mean, it’s just … banal, isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’ wondered James Randi. ‘Is it really? You think the death camps were banal? The Conquistadors in South America? The Stalin purges? You think these things were just a bit … banal?’
‘The guys I’ve fought have been laughable,’ insisted Newton. ‘Childish even. Most of them were pathetic.’
‘You’d rather your villains were a bit more … Darth Vadar?’ asked Hitchens. ‘Is that it?’
‘Yeah. You think an idiot can’t ruin a planet?’ added Randi. ‘Think again. Evil is simply a failure to think.’
‘Evil is an army of tricksters,’ explained Sagan, becoming passionate. ‘Disrupters and agitators who instinctively seek to unhinge the path towards enlightenment. Peace repels them. Love disgusts them. Honesty and truth they are wilfully blind to. These tricksters crave disaster, ruin and disappointment. For these things make them … happy!’
‘Yeah, and … the bastards are everywhere,’ added Hitchens. ‘Churches, schools, parliaments, publishing houses and universities. Oh, and families, there’s one in almost every family.’
‘They need to be stopped!’ exclaimed James Randi. ‘Before this Beta is ruined, and this world, and everything in it, ends!’
‘Steady, James,’ said Hitchens. ‘Think of your blood pressure.’
‘I don’t have blood pressure anymore,’ replied Randi. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Ah, yeah,’ laughed Hitchens. ‘Keep forgetting.’
‘Did these “tricksters” ruin the previous Betas?’ enquired Newton. ‘Is that what you’re suggesting?’
‘Yes. Sadly, they did,’ confirmed Sagan. ‘Tales of this ruination have come down to us through mythology and folklore, cautionary tales designed to warn us so that we may stop their wickedness from ever triumphing again. These myths are filled with accounts of their disruptive trickery: Loki, Isis and Kronos, again and again these miscreants have sought to wreck all that is good about existence.’
‘But the good guys are winning, right?’ asked Newton. ‘Aren’t we?’
‘Only just!’ replied Hitchens, his eyes aflame. ‘Switch on the news, Dr Barlow and you will see them. Populists and charlatans, wicked narcissists who can take the milk of human kindness and turn it into a rancid curd. Liars, cheats and conmen, hell bent on souring all that is good in this world, and the next. The forces of darkness are on the rise, evils that can ride the Internet directly into the hearts of the gullible, the scared and bitter, telling them just what they want to hear in exchange for their digital and immortal souls. This, Dr Barlow, is the most dangerous time since the Dark Ages, everything is in the balance as dark forces seek to tip this world of ours into the abyss.’
‘Blimey,’ gasped Newton.
‘Blimey, indeed, Dr Barlow,’ said Sagan. ‘Which is why in Purgatory and here on Earth, measures are underway to stop the rot. So much at stake; at any given moment, we are just days away from war, financial ruin, and social chaos. We need people; we need mediums; we need warriors, thinkers, believers … sceptics. We need you, Dr Barlow.’
‘Isn’t all that what I’m already doing, though?’ asked Newton. ‘A medium, fighting against these tricksters of yours?’
‘Yes,’ replied Christopher Hitchens. ‘And you’re acing it! Truly. But … you’re an unhappy medium, Dr Barlow. Lost. Lost as we were, unsure of how you fit into this titanic struggle.’
‘I am,’ admitted Newton. ‘I’m a miserable medium. Lamentable even.’
‘Well, here then, is how you fit in,’ began Sagan. ‘How you become the man you now need to be. This is your purpose, the meaning you have been seeking. Your previous life didn’t mean nothing; it meant everything. Your search for meaning prepared you … prepared you for this, your greatest test. Your finely-tuned, beautiful mind is what this new universe needs. The dangers are growing. As society becomes more complex … so too, do our enemies. Now, tricksters can destroy more than temples; they can obliterate cities, countries, and economies. Not only can they destroy billions upon billions of lives, they can destroy everything. Literally … everything. You, Dr Barlow … must stop them.’
‘No pressure, then?’ laughed Newton.
‘Oh, there’s no shortage of pressure,’ said Hitchens. ‘This Beta is hanging by a thread. Make no mistake, Dr Barlow, reality is on borrowed time. The planet is sick, wars are desperate to break out everywhere, the global economy is a trainwreck, and our politicians belong in a circus.’
‘Ve are failing,’ added Einstein disconsolately. ‘The forces of entropy … are vinning!’
‘Is it just me that gets this motivational nudge?’ wondered Newton. ‘Or does everyone have one? Please tell me there’s an army of us.’
‘There is an army,’ replied Sagan. ‘But it is pitifully small, given the scale of the task before us. Thankfully, the powers that be have now realised how vital the scientific and the rational are to this struggle. Newton, you have achieved so much in so very short a time. It has not gone unnoticed; your performance these past months has transformed attitudes in Purgatory. People are impressed’
‘They are?’ asked Newton, who had been rather thinking the opposite may be the case.
‘Very much so.’ agreed Randi. ‘And they are hoping you can be an example to others. We need more scientists, more sceptics; soon you will be less alone. We need them Dr Barlow. Heaven knows we need to get it right this time.’
‘You’re making it all sound a bit … desperate,’ observed Newton. ‘Are we really in that much trouble?’
‘I’m afraid we really are,’ sighed Sagan. ‘Reason, science, logic, honesty … all are in decline. Superstition is rampant. Truth is a dirty word. Politicians are skilled only at gaslighting. Autocracies are on the rise. Dr Barlow … time is not on our side.’
‘The people I’m fighting today, these Greek guys, are those the sort of people you’re talking about?’ asked Newton.
‘One hundred percent,’ replied Hitchens. ‘Pathetic, snivelling jokes … exactly the sort of scumbag tricksters that can destroy everything! Andronicus, Achilles, and Homer want destruction, death, and suffering. The banality of evil isn’t just an ugly phrase to them, Dr Barlow; it’s a lifestyle.’
‘Yeah? Well, they have my daughter,’ said Newton. ‘And my girlfriend.’
‘They do,’ agreed Sagan. ‘And they are capable of unspeakable deeds. You must rescue those you love, for sure. But these tricksters, like all tricksters … must be stopped, or all will be for nothing!’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ shrugged Newton. ‘However, right now, I’m in a burning transport plane, stuck in some kind of time distortion, on my way to what will be my first ever air crash.’
‘Oh, this will end soon,’ explained Sagan. ‘The time freeze was our doing. We needed the time to have a good talk with you. That’s wrapped up now, I reckon. Your crash will start as soon as we leave.’
‘Nice, I’m looking forward to that. How long have I got?’
‘That depends,’ said Sagan. ‘Do you feel we’ve explained things a little more clearly to you now? Do we need to go through it all again?’
