Raymond sat back and thought a minute. He wanted to give her an honest answer. Not fire something off the top of his head. She seemed to be offering him a real conversation. He wanted to take her up on that.
“Kind of yes and no. A few things I had to read four or five times. Sometimes I could just sort of turn off my imagination, my reactions to things, and take it at face value. But some of the stuff . . . like the part about how when you’re not looking it’s a wave, and then when you are looking it’s a particle. Like it’s not actual matter till you look at it. And the thing about quantum superpositioning? How one thing can be in more than one place at the same time but still have the same reaction to some kind of stimulus even if the two things are miles part, because it’s not two things, it’s one thing in two places? If I try to think about that too hard, it feels like it wants to break my brain.”
“Good,” she said. “Then you understand it.”
“It almost sounds . . . like it’s saying reality is only real when we make it real.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“So, this is the truth? This is, like, actual science?”
“Hard to say. It’s new science. It’s controversial science. Then again, new science is usually controversial. I mean it’s not new new, but . . . compared to Galileo . . .”
They sat quietly for what might only have been a second or two. Raymond was looking at the book, which he had placed on her desk—at its cover illustration that looked like a flexible surface of light waves bending.
“Can I ask you a question that has nothing to do with books?”
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?” She swept her arms wide to indicate the empty room. “I can fit you into my busy schedule.”
“What would you do if you had a friend who had just fallen into total despair about the world?”
“Hmm,” she said. And sat back. “Interesting question. So, this friend. Does the despair have to do with the world being a place where people do terrible things?”
“Right. That.”
“I figured. That’s usually what it is. Well, then I’d say you have to do wonderful things.”
Raymond felt his eyes go wide. “Me?”
“Somebody has to. And you’re the one asking the question.”
“So if I do wonderful things . . .” He stalled there.
“The world will still be a place where people do terrible things. But here’s the thing about despair. We fall into despair when the terrible gangs up on us and we forget the world can also be wonderful. We just see terrible everywhere we look. So what you do for your friend is you bring up the wonderful, so both are side by side. The world is terrible and wonderful at the same time. One doesn’t negate the other, but the wonderful keeps us in the game. It keeps us moving forward. And, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Raymond, but that’s as good as the world is going to get.”
Raymond didn’t answer. He just sat thinking.
“Is that a bad answer?” she asked after a time.
“No. Actually, I’ve asked a couple of people, and that’s the best one I’ve gotten so far.”
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
Flames in the Darkness
Raymond opened the door and stepped into the upscale outer office of Luis Javier Velez, Esquire. The receptionist was a pretty, middle-aged black-haired woman with flashing eyes. Not in a good way. She turned those eyes on Raymond, and he froze.
There was no one else in the outer office. But someone was in with Mr. Velez. Raymond could hear the dull murmur of voices and make out vague shapes through a tinted glass window.
“Can I help you?” she asked. It was clear by her tone that she did not want to help him, and assumed she could not.
“I was hoping to get just a minute to talk to Mr. Velez.”
“But you don’t have an appointment?”
“Well. No.”
“He doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”
“Okay. I get that. I almost called. But I know him. I’ve met him. I’ve been to his apartment, actually, and I know his wife. But it was a while ago now, and I thought if I called on the phone, he might not remember me. I wanted him to see my face.”
“Regardless—” she began.
But Raymond simply kept talking.
“See, he gave me his card.” He held the card out for her to see, but her eyes just bounced across it and came up to his. He kept his gaze averted as he spoke. “He told me if there was ever anything he could do to help . . .”
The receptionist sighed. Raymond braved a glance at her face as she lifted the receiver of her telephone. She was disappointed, he thought. Because she had to deal with him now. She couldn’t just turn him away.
“Mr. Velez,” she said. “Sorry to disturb you while you’re with a client, but you didn’t tell me to hold calls. There’s a young man here to see you, but he doesn’t have an appointment. But he says you gave him your business card and told him to get in touch if there was anything you could do to help him.”
A pause as she listened.
“Right,” she said, and hung up the phone.
Raymond’s heart raced, waiting to hear what she would do.
“He says that doesn’t narrow it down much. But if you want to sit and wait, if he has a couple of minutes between clients, he’ll talk to you.”
Mr. Velez did not turn his eyes to Raymond until he had walked his client to the outer door, said his goodbyes, then closed the door behind the man.
Then he gave Raymond his full attention.
“Oh,” he said. “Uh-huh. I do remember you, yes. I came home one day to find you in my kitchen having breakfast with my wife.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t remember your name, though.”
“Raymond.”
“Well, Raymond, I’ve got exactly three minutes until my next client, unless she shows up late. So come on in and tell me what you hope I can do. And talk fast.”
Raymond followed him into his expensively decorated office. It was modern and sleek, all black leather and gleaming stainless steel. He sat in an uncomfortable chair facing Mr. Velez. The attorney sat behind his massive desk, leaning his chair back, steepling his fingers in front of his chin and staring at Raymond. Waiting for him to speak.