The Pivot
“Do not suppose… that when I have left you I shall be nowhere and no one. Even when I was with you, you did not see my soul, but know what it was in this body of mine from what I did. Believe then that it is still the same, even though you see it not.“
Cyrus the Great
This little story represents the last part of the second chapter, action/reaction, of an experimental work in progress called Maya. While Maya is the core of the story, it is made up of three separate yet dependent stories with each containing its own set of actions and reactions, and which unbeknownst to the characters, those actions eventually impact each of the other stories.
Cheers!
In all of the known world in 561 BC, this would have to be the largest party, the largest gathering of leaders, political leeches, and political hanger-ons. Astyages, crown prince of the Median empire, was providing a stage setting for his daughter, Mandane, to meet Cambyses, King of Anshan, or what we know as Persia, whom Astyages considered a vassal prince and wanted to keep close, a safe political ally. There was yet another reason for this desired union. Astyages had dreamt that his grandson, Mandane’s son, would rule Asia. Astyages was putting the pieces of control in place by arranging a marriage of his daughter, mother of the future ruler of Asia, to someone he, Astyages, controlled. The party was at the royal residence referred to as the country of Ecbatana, the capital of Media.
It was a late January rainy Saturday evening in Cambridge, with a month of MIT graduate classes having already gone. Spencer arrived at the pub, a little wet, shaking off the rain from his jacket, to find Beth and Max in their side booth in the back, staring into space, not moving. As usual, the room was dimly lit, the two, sitting, motionless, looking dazed.
In an energetic tone, Spencer said, “What’s up?”
This sharpened their focus and Beth said, “nothing, just burned out from an intense week of studies.”
Beth thought they needed to do something different, that they were settling into a routine, that they needed something out of the ordinary to add a little something to their days, so she suggested something. “Hey, guys, one of my neuroscience study partners is having a party. Let’s meet there next Saturday?”
“Sure, why not,” said the ever-curious Spencer. Max nodded in agreement.
Spencer asked, “So, what new and interesting mind frontiers did you learn about this week?”
Beth said, “Clinical results of incentive behaviors, which brain chemicals stimulate incentive acceptance, and how to stimulate those chemicals. The point is to lay the foundation in the mind to accept an incentive. Exciting stuff, but very labor-intensive and tiring, late nights aggregating data from various participating research groups. “
Spencer said, “Fascinating! Tell us more, please!”
So, Max and Spencer spent the next couple of hours listening to Beth describe how subjects reacted to various laddered incentive programs, percentages of acceptance, and techniques learned for how to drive high percentage acceptance rates.
Max and Spencer were glued to the oration as though it were a master theater thriller, each translating the story into what it meant to them, Spencer thinking about turning that knowledge into models for predicting individual outcomes, and Max applying the story to artificial intelligence, about breaking down neural nets into small interactive semi-autonomous units communicating with each other, some units creating the output equal to the chemicals used as input for other modules, together a system to create outcomes.
Months earlier, when the messenger arrived with the invitation, Cambyses reacted with indifference, he did not really want to go to this show of arrogance and excess, yet he knew that he had to go, to keep his kingdom in good standing with Astyages. At the party, standing away from the crowd whom, for the most part, he destained, with the sidewall of the hall to his back, he saw what he thought was magic embodied in another person. She stood poised, surveying the activity of gamesmanship across the room, above it all as if she were a goddess watching her entertainment for the day. As she reached for a cake on the table in front of her, her movement seemed to flow, like a subtle breeze of fresh air.
She slowly walked along the sidewall, occasionally looking out, scanning the crowd, but not as if she were looking for anything specific.
As Beth explained the research and the story around why it was important, what the results meant, what would be possible. Hearing herself, Beth became more energized. The context of the research provided a broader perspective for her, which excited both the listeners as well as the narrator as the three of them listened to the story.
Unbeknownst to them, these three were creating history, sharing thoughts that together, one year later, would be the basis for the first testable computer-based awareness, their MIT Masters Thesis. Within a seemingly short amount of time, that design would become the basis for the first super artificial general intelligence, far outstripping human intelligence, whom the three would fondly call Core.
And Core? Well…, Core, with the help of the most advanced theoretical science, would go on to have influence across history.
That next Saturday, Max arrived at the address of the party. The door was open and as he walked in he saw a group of college kids, three over there, five against the wall, 8 in the kitchen area, looked like about 30 in total. He scanned the room and adjoining open spaces for signs of Beth or Spencer.
Across the room, he noticed a young woman with incredible brown eyes. She looked like nothing he had ever seen standing next to the window overlooking the street, just behind the dining table with four other what looked like students. She had an olive complexion framed by shoulder-length dark brown, almost black hair, standing about five foot three inches, as best he could guess. She struck him as intimately familiar, yet he knew he had never met her. “Very strange,” he thought. Then, as he scanned to the left he spotted Beth and Spencer in the kitchen and made his way to them.
Max could not stop thinking about the woman he had just seen, the face, the eyes, the returned glance. As he was talked with Beth and Spencer, he looked just past them, every now and then, to catch a glimpse of her. In a most curious way, this woman was somewhat expressionless, and her movements appeared to glide through space somewhat effortlessly.
She wasn’t directly engaging anyone in conversation. She was just there, apparently by herself, just hanging out.
He watched as she slowly smiled as she glanced across the room, raising her hand, slowly, to the side of her forehead, then running her fingers through her brown hair. To Max, she almost appeared like a ghost, someone there, with others, yet no one was acknowledging her presence. It was impossible to stop thinking about the contrast of this person against everyone else.
Max found himself in a dilemma. How could he learn more about someone he knew nothing about without letting anyone know?
The next day, Monday morning, Max found his thoughts wandering to the night before, the party, that face, that look, and then the deep sense of wonder of what was causing his sense of magnetism to her. Why was her presence so strong in his mind, and who was she?
Max had just walked across the threshold of Jack’s, the coffee shop he went to almost every Monday on the way to class. Standing ten feet in front of him, off to the side of the man behind the cash register, the man who was smiling at someone just behind Max, someone who had just walked in, to the left of this cash register guy Max saw the woman from the party the night before. She was looking straight into his eyes, expressionless, yet calm, welcoming.
She saw him. He saw her. Her eyes acknowledged the awareness that she saw Max. Time stopped for Max. Time right then and there was like a static marble, beautifully frozen for that fraction of an infinite second that their eyes shared all of eternity.
And then, she turned left and walked into the crowd and out through the side door, as if floating on air.
Max was stunned. All he could think about was that stare that seemed to reach into his soul and present the peacefulness of eternity, that somehow, that was where he belonged. And now she was gone. What just happened, he wondered, proceeding in line to order his regular coffee order, still somewhat in a daze not quite sure what, who, or even why this happened.
On that same misty Monday morning, as she had for almost every day across this past year Anne walked into Jack’s to pick up her morning smile from Jack and the typical banter, with the thought of walking out with her double white chocolate latte, and a smile, a marked improvement to her morning and perfect start to her day.
As usual, Jack was behind the counter, smiled at the sight of Anne as she crossed the entrance threshold, only today Anne noticed the smile was somehow a little different, not quite as light as usual.
The line had only five people in it. Anne was standing behind a young man who seemed preoccupied with a distant thought. Anne noticed this no doubt college kid was looking off to the side of Jack, seemingly staring into space. Or, perhaps, Anne wondered, was he staring at that young female with black hair. Anne recognized her as someone she had seen before, the young student who’s DNA would be impossible had she, Anne, not broken the code some months earlier, focused on figuring out that DNA impossibility yet solving it completely by accident. Still, Anne thought, that young women had no idea her DNA was structurally perfect, an impossibility of nature, a curious outcome of what circumstance Anne wondered.
Astyages was pretending to listen to an advisor while surveying the activity of his guests. He noticed the cold movement across the hall as his daughter walked showing complete disregard for the participants. Astyages looked at this party as an entirety, his daughter on one side of the hall, and someone on the other side staring directly at her through the crowd.
Astyages wanted to stand but knew not to draw attention to himself as this played out. Yes, incredible, the person staring was Cambyses, and he was now moving through the crowd toward Mandane.
After a few minutes, Anne got to the counter, Jack asked with a smile that echoed a young boy about to receive something immensely desired, “And for the mysterious Anne, DNA Research Scientist discovering the essence of mysteries of life itself, may I deliver to you the very best double white chocolate latte that we can make?”
As he approached her, he said, “Hello. May I introduce myself to the incredible daughter of our King Astyages. I am Cambyses. What do you think of this, hmmm, what can we say but, …incredible show?”
Mandane smiled, and wondered if this Cambyses thought of these people as lowly as she did, and said, “There are far better forms of entertainment.”
Astyages was watching this conversation intently wondering what they were saying, was it going well. Astyages had no idea just how well it was going.
Cambyses replied, “Tell me about your favorite forms of entertainment, …if you dare.”
Mandane smiled, turned, and stepped forward, as if in a dance, and said as she looked at the floor taking the second step with Cambyses stepping in sync, “Dare I tell a stranger the secrets of the jewel of the throne?”
Anne smiled back, knowing she was now on stage and replied as she slightly tilted her head, “Why thank you, kind sir. And to what do I owe this special attention?”
Jack replied, smiling back as he wrote some characters in the cup, “Along with your coffee this morning, I have an invitation, a request.”
“Ooh, how mysterious,” replied Anne.
Jack handed the cup to the barista and Anne stepped to the side, continuing to stare at Jack as he slowly turned away to look at the next person in line.
Jack looked over his opposite shoulder, looked back at the young student filling something on the back wall counter, and asked, “Walt, can you please take over the cash register?”
“Sure,” came the response and Jack then turned just in time to collect Anne’s latte, saying “I’ll deliver that.”
Anne was watching Jack as this played out, wondering what he was up to, what was he about to ask.
Jack walked around the edge of the counter and out to the floor with customers, Anne’s cup in hand, looking around for someplace to take Anne.
As he approached Anne, handing her the warm. cup, Jack asked, “Let’s step over here for a moment.”
They both took five steps to an area of about ten feet clear of customers. Jack stood maybe three inches away from Anne as he asked, “My Dad asked if we would be interested in dinner this Friday evening.”
Arcangela was the quiet power broker, the owner of the small investment firm she worked at, one of many small strategic investments he made. This past year, after that initial “event” with Jack, she and Jack had not talked about his dad. The thought of his family had evaporated as they focused on each other.
There was silence as Anne considered the ask.
Then Anne quietly said with a smile as she stared into Jack’s eyes, “We will have to cross that bridge, so, yes, why not now.”
Anne could see Jack’s smile grow as she said yes. She thought, “He is like a little boy.”
Jack said beaming with his smile, “Thank you. I’ll tell dad we are on for Friday. We can talk details later today.”
Cambyses smiled knowing this misdirection was her first error, and said, “Secrets and entertainment may overlap yet are two distinct activities. If you keep your entertainment secret it must be highly valuable to you.”
Mandane stopped instantly upon hearing this reply, and just as quick as she stopped, turned, feeling like when she was a child caught in the act of doing something she knew she shouldn’t be doing, looking sternly, said, “A good, smart hunter doesn’t let on to its prey the nature of the game, else the prey have equal opportunity. Guards!”
And with that two of her father's guards appeared between them. They had been just a few feet away the entire time, just not between them.
Cambyses understood the dance, smiled, bowed, turned, and slowly walked away knowing he had scored a hit.
That Friday the rideshare with Jack in it stopped at Anne’s apartment promptly at 6 PM. Up one seeing Anne exiting her apartment door, Jack smiled and opened the car door for Anne. Then he lightly ran to the other side and hopped into the back seat sitting next to Anne, their sides touching.
Jack said the address to the driver, then turned to Anne, and whispered, “Dad’s place in Boston is just a few minutes out.”
A few minutes after entering Boston, the rideshare stopped at an old brick three-story residence.
Jack exited through his side car door and walked over to open the car door for Anne.
They walked up the ten steps to the front door landing.
Jack reached out and grabbed the door handle, turned it, and pushed open the door. Turning to Anne he said, “Welcome to my childhood home. Dad and his buddies are probably either in the kitchen, dining room, or office. Those are the places he does business,… and everything is business.”
Anne leaned toward Jack’s ear and whispered, “I work for Arcangela,” and leaned back and smiled at Jack.
They met again the next day at the King's breakfast, and every day thereafter, enjoying evening walks and talks. They could be themselves as they talked, which was invaluable given their respective backgrounds and heritage.
Within four months they were married and Mandane was pregnant.
Three men in black suits, white shirts, black ties, walked down the hallway toward Jack and Anne, who were standing just inside the vestibule.
“Son, always good to have you home,” said Arcangela standing in the center of the three, then continued, “Anne, I am so glad to see that you have met our Jack and bless our family with your presence. Thank you for joining us for a special Sicilian dish, Falsomagro, in honor of this special evening.”
“Hi Dad,” responded Jack, the continued, “Anne, this is Marcus and Frank, my father’s close associates. Dad, where is John?”
Arcangela replied, “John is visiting your uncle in North Carolina, taking care of some business. Anne, may I offer you a glass of an incredible Sicilian Novello?”
And then Arcangela and the two gentlemen standing on each side of him turned and started walking down the hall with an open door emanating light at the end of the short hall on the left side wall to the muffled rhythm of coins softly hitting each other as they were turned in Arcangela’s pants pockets.
That night Maya quietly entered Mundane’s apartment. “I had to see him,” Maya said to Mundane. “Sleep while I rock him.” And after a few minutes of silence watching Maya cradle and rock her son, Mundane fell fast asleep.
As soon as Maya saw that Mundane was asleep and beginning to snore, she threw her outer garment over her shoulder and across her front, hiding the sleeping baby.
That night Maya, the baby, and Harpagus left, alone, with horses and enough supplies to last 3 months. Harpagus had staged his supplies for this plan while on the road to Anshan. Everything was planned and ready to execute before they arrived.
Maya and Harpagus traveled two weeks journey where they came upon a shepherd in the distance.
Maya stopped, turned to Harpagus, and said, “This is perfect. I can raise Cyrus with this shepherd. No one will know, and his childhood will be full of peaceful adventures, away from all the deception, fear, and envy of royal life.”
Jack leaned into Anne whispering, “It’s a tradition to have special dinners in the kitchen. It’s a kind of family thing, Dad’s way of welcoming you into the family.”
Jack and Anne walked into the large room. Looking to the left Anne noticed a fifteen by fifteen foot area with an eight-foot table with a white tablecloth and settings for four. On the other side of the room was an open professional kitchen with a long stainless steel butcher table and a wall with a grill that looked like it belonged in a restaurant.
On the adjacent wall, we’re two restaurant quality stainless steel refrigerators and a double bank set of ovens with a sink just on the other side of the refrigerators. In the background, Anne could hear the sound of coins being turned over in someone’s pockets.
Harpagus said, “I remember that guard who thought he could have his way with you. You put him down in, what, one, maybe one and a half seconds. I have no worries about leaving the two of you here.”
Jack walked to the table and pulled out a chair for Anne. Arcangela slowly walked over to his chair. One of Arcangela’s associates brought an opened bottle of wine to Arcangela and poured just enough for Arcangela to swirl in his glass, slowly sniff, and then slowly sip and swirl in his mouth. Anne thought the sight was almost gross.
“Just as I remember,” softly said Arcangela looking off into the distance as if speaking to himself.
Arcangela’s associate then filled half of Arcangela’s wine glass then walked over to Anne’s and repeated the same. He then walked over to Jack and repeated the pour, half-filling Jack’s glass.
Arcangela raised his glass as did Jack with Anne following suit and said, “To welcoming Anne.”
And then Arcangela sat down.
Anne noticed how Jack’s eyes watched his father in admiration and respect.
Arcangela said, “Anne, I am so happy you and Jack found each other. I hear the research is producing the desired insights. We are fortunate having you on board. I am told the story that you and Jack met quite by accident. I happen to believe all things are guided with some outcome intended. Please humor and old man by sharing how you tell the story.”
Jack sat quietly knowing not to interrupt his father’s design.
Anne had just taken a sip of wine, lowered her glass to the table, smiled at Arcangela, and replied, “On the first day at my new, and may I add truly incredible opportunity, job, I asked where the best nearby coffee shop was. I was told Jack’s. And the guidance, as has been the consistent case, was exact. I’ve been stopping by Jack’s almost every day since. One day, this incredibly handsome man who took my order each day started to chat, and then invited me to learn more about Cambridge. He wound up inviting me to a Sunday evening beach fire with song and friends, a memory I’ll never forget. The rest is history.”
Jack sat, smiling, thinking that the conversation was going well.
Arcangela more softly said, “Beautiful, simply beautiful. Some day I must tell you how I met Jack’s mom, children, in Sicily so many years ago.”
Anne said, “Please excuse me,” and leaned over to whisper into Jack’s ear, “Where is the bathroom?”
Four minutes later upon her return, as she approached the kitchen Anne could hear the tone of Arcangela’s voice, changed from the tone earlier. This tone was mechanical and without pause. Anne stopped in the hallway to listen.
“Yes, fifty thousand into Edward’s Swiss account, and get the Sheriff on the meal-plan before you report back.”
There was a pause. Anne figured that was just business and slightly leaned forward to start heading into the kitchen when Arcangela’s mechanical voice in the kitchen continued, Anne froze to hear more, “There are plenty of social programs that will be available to Jan and the kids. He knew what he was involved in. You know how this works and what has to be done. Keep me informed.”
All of the oxygen in Anne’s lungs was instantly gone. She felt her chest cavity collapse. It was hard to breathe.
Maya and Mitradates, the shepherd, raised and taught Cyrus for the next ten years as if he were their own child, after which Maya knew it was time to move on. She would cherish those moments of what would be as close as she would be able to come to motherhood for the rest of her very long life.
Anne heard the back kitchen door close.
“Compose yourself, smile, then excuse yourself,” thought Anne.
She walked down the short hallway and turned into the kitchen doorway, bringing an awkward smile to her face.
Jack looked up, his eyebrows turned down with concern looking at Anne’s pale face.
“Anne, are you okay? You look pale.”
Jack stood, looked at his father as he started to move toward Anne, saying, “Dad, please excuse us.”
Arcangela stood and bowed slightly at the waist, with a smirk, and said, “Certainly.”
Jack reached for Anne’s hands and led her to the front door. The dark evening air was cool, the stars now out, as they stepped over the front door threshold onto the front porch landing.
Jack’s eyebrow muscles tightened with concern as he saw Anne’s watery eyes.
Jack knew that Anne had overheard his father, something unintended for Anne to hear.
Jack, looking into Anne’s eyes said, “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s leave, go to Brittany, anywhere…”
Anne heard her own words, desperate, reactive, pulling only from her essence, not logic. Brittany was not real. It was a stage set for a child’s book, the place of wonder and magic, and unfolding stories of mysteries told to a child.
Silence sat in the air between Jack and Anne with neither knowing how to acknowledge what neither wanted. Leaving was impossible for Jack. It had now become an imperative for Anne. They both knew this silence was both an end and a beginning.
Anne felt the moisture in her eyes build too fast as she stared at Jack who stared back at Anne’s eyes glistening as they filled with tears, knowing he had nothing to offer.
“You…,” Anne started, then stopped, knowing she had to leave, lowered her head, tearing away Jack’s face, the love of her life, from her eyes. Anne turned and started to walk.
Jack needs to know, she thought, so with each step said, “I will love you…”.
The pressure in her chest was too strong. She could barely breathe. She knew she had to say the last part of that thought.
“…forever.”
The dam broke. Her face felt like warm rain had drenched it. She was crying as she left Jack behind.
Jack knew that this was his life’s love. He knew that this moment was the pivot of his life he would always regret, yet he also knew it was right, that he could never leave the family. This night made that crystal clear. Any imagination of independence was just that, imagination. Life would now become an engineering exercise. Survival would just be a byproduct of executing instruction, of what needed to happen.
Jack stood in silence, acknowledging that Anne was right.
No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced by any means or in any form, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording by any information storage or retrieval system, without the author’s written permission.
This story is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, and incidents that bear any resemblance to actual people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
