Quantum Night by Robert J. Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

have had enormous difficulty functioning. I was in your class then. Do you remember me behaving strangely?”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “Sure, but I also was one of your test subjects in that research project, right?”
    He frowned. “Which one?”
    “Something about . . . microphones?”
    “Oh, that one. Yeah, I guess you were.”
    “You had a cool name for it, um . . .”
    “Project Lucidity.”
    “Right! Anyway, I was helping you with that before the knifing, and—well, I don’t know: that’s the whole point. Maybe I was part of your study afterwards, too?”
    “I honestly don’t remember,” said Menno.
    “Of course. But could you check your files, see if you have stuff about me going that far back? I’m looking for anything that might jog my memory.”
    “Sure, I’ll have a look.”
    “I
must
have been laying down long-term memories during my . . . my ‘dark period.’ I mean, how else could I have functioned?”
    “I suppose, yeah.”
    “And I did a half-year course in science fiction then, one semester, January to April. It was required that I take an English course, and that seemed less painful than CanLit.”
    “Ha.”
    “Anyway, I found the reading list from it still online. Apparently, we all read this novel about a biomedical engineer who discovers scientific proof for the existence of the human soul—but I don’t remember ever reading it; I only know that’s what it’s about because I looked up the title on Amazon today.”
    “Well, there were more than a few assigned books I never got around to reading during my undergraduate days.”
    “Yeah, but I did an essay on this book. I found the WordPerfect file for it still on my hard drive.”
    “Could you, y’know, have bought the essay? From one of those services?”
    I raised my hand palm out to forestall any more of this. “Sure, sure, you can explain away any one of these examples. But
all
of them? Sixmonths with no new memories laid down and yet me apparently functioning normally? There’s no way to explain that.”
    “All right,” said Menno. “But, you know, Jim, if the barrier to your remembering that period is psychological rather than physical—well . . .”
    “What?”
    “If your subconscious is repressing something, maybe you’ll want to just accept that. You’re fine now, after all, aren’t you?”
    “I think so.”
    “The missing memories aren’t affecting your work or your personal life?”
    “Not until that D.A. tore me to shreds.”
    “So, just keep in mind that the cure might be worse than the disease.” Pax was still at Menno’s feet, but her eyes were now closed. “Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
    Pax did look at peace. But I shook my head as I rose. “No,” I said. “I can’t do that.”

6

    A S I looked out my living-room window at the Red River, I thought perhaps I’d been unfair back at the Atlanta airport. If Fox News was a thorn in the side of every Democrat unlucky enough to hold public office in the United States, it was perhaps fair to say that the CBC was equally vexatious to any hapless Conservative trying to do his or her job in this country. The irony was that the CBC was a public broadcaster owned and operated, albeit at arm’s length, by the federal government. There is little if anything Barack Obama could have done to deflect attacks from Fox News, but year after year of Conservative government in Ottawa had whittled the CBC down to a fraction of what it had once been, and even after Harper was finally given the heave-ho, tough economic times kept the CBC’s funding from getting fully reinstated.
    I had CBC Radio One on. The female announcer intoned:
“Although their attempt to blow up the Statue of Liberty was thwarted over the weekend, it’s been revealed that the two would-be bombers, both Libyan nationals, entered the United States from Canada, crossing over from Ontario into Minnesota near Lake of the Woods eleven days ago. This