Factoring Humanity

“Of course we could; Cheetah uses several speech-processing routines that aren’t based on any human models but rather are simple brute-force engineering solutions.”

“Oh, sure, if there’s some minor variation that makes no gross difference, meaning can still be conveyed. But on a subtle level, you and I both agree, even if Cheetah might not, that ‘big yellow ball’ is a proper construction, while ‘yellow big ball’ is, if not out-and-out improper, certainly not normal — and yet neither of us were ever taught in school that size is more important than color. We — all people speaking the same language — agree on very minute points of syntax and structure, without ever having been taught those things. And Chomsky says that every one of the five thousand different languages currently spoken, plus all the languages that existed in the past, follow essentially the same rules. He’s probably right — we do acquire and use language with extraordinary ease, so much so that it must be innate. But it can’t be genetically innate — as Lieberman points out, that would violate basic biology, which allows for, and indeed is driven evolutionarily by, the concept of individual variation. Besides, the Human Genome Project failed to find any gene or combination of genes that coded for Chomsky’s supposed language organ. Which begs the question: if it’s innate, and it’s not genetic, where does it come from?”

“And you think it’s from your proposed overmind?”

Heather spread her arms. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? And it’s not just language that seems to be hardwired. Symbols are shared, too, across individuals and across cultures. It’s what Jung called ‘the collective unconscious.’ ”

“Surely Jung meant that as a metaphor.”

Heather nodded. “At the outset, yes. But it does seem that we do share a rich background of symbols and ideas. You know Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces? I use it in one of my courses. Mythologies are the same even across cultures that have been isolated from one another. How do you explain that? Coincidence? If not coincidence, then what?”

“The overmind again, you think. But, geez, that’s such a big leap.”

“Is it? Is it really? Occam’s razor says you should prefer the solution that has the fewest elements. Positing one thing — the overmind — solves all sorts of problems in linguistics, comparative mythology, psychology, and even parapsychology. It is a simple solution, and — ”

The clock on the mantle made its quarter-hour chime.

“Oh!” said Heather. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on so long, and — Damn, look there’s no time to explain it all now. We’ve got a visitor coming.”

“Who?”

“Becky.”

Kyle visibly stiffened. “I’m not sure I want to see her.” He paused. “Damn it, why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

Heather spread her arms. “Because I wanted to be sure you would come over. Look, it’s going to be okay and — ”

The sound of the door bolt disengaging; Becky was operating the lock herself, instead of ringing the bell.

The front door swung open. Becky stood in the entryway, stark against the darkness.

Kyle, now standing by the living-room window, held his breath.

Becky came up into the living room. She was quiet for a moment. Through the open window, Kyle could hear a skimmer whizzing by and the sound of a group of boys yakking away as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Dad,” Becky said.

It was the first time in over a year that Kyle had heard that word from her. He didn’t know what to do. He stood frozen.

“Dad,” she said again. “I am so sorry.”

Kyle’s heart was pounding. “I would never hurt you,” he said.

“I know that,” said Becky. She closed some of the distance between them. “I’m so very sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Kyle didn’t trust his voice. There was still so much anger and resentment in him.

“What changed your mind?” he asked.

Becky looked at her mother, then down at the ground. “I — I realized you couldn’t possibly do anything like that.”

“You were sure enough before.” The words, harsh, were out before Kyle could stop himself.

Becky nodded slightly “I know. I know. But… but I’ve looked into what my therapist did, at the techniques she used.……ever knew memories could be manufactured.” She briefly met her father’s gaze, then looked back at the carpet.

“That bitch,” said Kyle. “The trouble she’s caused.”

Becky looked at her mother again; something was passing between the two of them, but Kyle couldn’t tell what.

“Let’s not worry about her now,” said Becky. “Please. The important thing is that this is over… or at least it is if you’ll forgive me.”

She looked up at her father again, with her large brown eyes. Kyle knew that his face was impassive; he didn’t know how to react. He’d been torn apart, reviled, shunned — and now it was all supposed to be over, just like that?

Surely there should be more than just an apology. Surely the wounds would take years — decades — to heal.

And yet -