Three to one, p.21
Three To One, page 21
October 5
“John, that was the strangest interaction. What is the story with that young homeless man?” Sister Mary Frances was looking toward the blue dumpsters where Perry had disappeared around the corner.
“He’s a young man who wondered in off the street last Saturday when I was waiting to hear confessions. He was baptized a Catholic as a child, but his mother died, so he was not brought up in the faith.”
“Why didn’t his father bring him to church?”
John shrugged. “Why do people do the things they do? I believe in this case, the father was suffering grief and depression. He lost his ability to function. I think he was self-medicating with alcohol, and as a result, Perry has lived on the streets his whole life. He is rough around the edges, but he is a good kid. He is sincerely seeking understanding about God, and the Church. He is an interesting young man. What was that business about you being his teacher?”
“I have no idea. I never taught second grade, and he does not look familiar to me. I guess it was simple mistaken identity.”
“Poor kid is starved for friends, I think. He’s lived his life alone.”
“That is heart-wrenching. I’ll be sure to pray for him.”
“Please do. I fear he lives in constant danger.”
Deuce stared through the observation glass. The shades over the outside windows were drawn, no light in the room other than a small fluorescent light fixture at the head of the hospital bed, and the displays of the various medical machines. Patty was asleep in the chair, arms hugging herself. Next to her, Mac looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Somebody building an android out of used parts. He seemed half metal, half human. Both his legs were encircled by bulky frameworks, rows of heavy staples holding his flesh together, steel pins penetrating his skin, holding his bones in place. Below a turban of bandages, his face looked gaunt, like he had aged ten years since Deuce saw him a little over a week ago. He had an oxygen tube in his nose, two I.V. bags hanging on a stand next to the bed, tubes going into some kind of port in his upper chest. He had a catheter bag hanging on his bed rail, a tube coming out from under the blanket, draining dark brown fluid out of him.
At the Rocky Mountain Regional Trauma Center, the doctor was deadpan, stating facts, no acknowledgement that the living organism in there being held together by steel pins and medical tape was Deuce’s close friend.
“His hydration levels are dangerously low, and his hemoglobin count is still only 10.4. He’s lost a lot of blood, some externally, due to the compound fractures in his legs, and also some internally. We’re still watching closely to determine if we have any active bleeders inside. We’re hoping we don’t have to do any more surgery right away.”
“Is he going to make it?”
“Make it?” the doctor asked. “With all that he’s been through, 99% of the population would be dead already. He’s tough. He must have a strong will to live. When Life Flight brought him in, he was delirious, talking about demons in the forest hacking at his legs, and a white elk that flew down and saved his life.”
“Hallucinations? Is that from the head trauma?”
“Probably from dehydration. We have him heavily sedated, to give his body a chance to heal. He is not in good condition. Having those open wounds exposed outdoors for over a week, it’s a miracle he’s not septic already. So far he hasn’t developed gangrene. That’s a positive. Our priority is to save first his life, then his legs, and some degree of mobility if possible. We’re flooding him with antibiotics, but it is too soon to know the outcome.”
“What are the bandages on his hands for?”
“With both legs broken, bones protruding, he dragged himself with his fingers almost a quarter mile across the forest floor to find a little trickle of water. His hands are shredded, half his fingernails are gone. If he hadn’t found that water, he would have definitely been DOA. He said the white elk led him to the spring.”
“What?”
“Whatever motivated him, he put up a helluva fight. The orderlies were cleaning half-chewed beetle fragments out of his teeth and esophagus.”
“He had to participate in his own rescue,” Deuce said.
“Excuse me?” asked the doctor.
“Nothing. Just something we used to say.”
“We’ll update the family as we know more,” the doc said. He walked away, looking at his tablet.
Seeing Mac like that, Deuce felt a burning anger. Cops said the steering mechanism was cut half way through with a hack saw.
“If I ever catch the maggot that did this, I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” Deuce said.
“Excuse me, did you say something?” a young nurse asked.
Deuce shook his head and turned to walk down the hallway.
October 6
Deuce felt like he was going to be sick. All through Saturday night, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mac with all those tubes coming out of him, metal cages around his legs, head and hands covered in bandages. The whole world had become a dark and sinister place. Who would intentionally sabotage a machine, knowing it would do something like that to another human being? He took a sip of coffee and opened his phone to read the morning paper. The headline jumped off the page and slapped him in the face. “Import Executive Marco Manzo’s Private Plane Missing over the Caribbean Sea”
“That sounds like a contradiction, Father. Can you unpack that for me?”
“Much of genetics, how genetics works, is shrouded in mystery, correct?” John said.
“Yes, genetics, and every other discipline I’ve ever encountered.”
“And yet there are many things that you do understand.”
“Yes, of course.”
“The teachings of the Church are much the same. Many things are shrouded in mystery, but that does not mean we don’t understand anything. The Church has a tremendous body of knowledge about the Creator, and our relationship with him. We refer to that knowledge as Divine Revelation.”
The professor looked uncomfortable. “That terminology. It sounds pretty ethereal.”
“The teachings of the Church will stand up to the most rigorous rational analysis. There are thirty-five recognized doctors of the Church. Wade into the body of writing they have provided, and I promise you, it will be a challenging intellectual exercise, even for you. But few people want to dig that deep. Most people tend to reject anything they cannot understand.”
“But wait,” Peregrine protested, “As a scientist, I embrace things I don’t understand. I seek out those things. I’ve spent my whole life working to expand my frames of reference.”
“Good. Keep it up. To make certain we aren’t just talking past each other, allow me to ask you, what do you mean when you say ‘God?’”
“Hmm. I don’t know. The greatest being in the universe?”
“How can He be contained in the universe, if He created the universe from nothing?”
Professor Faulk furrowed his brow. “How would you define God then?”
“When Catholic Christians talk about God, we are referring to something that is outside of the known universe. Not the greatest of all beings, but rather, something wholly ‘other,’ unlike any other being.”
“So, if God is not like other beings, what is God like?
“God isn’t like anything. And nothing is like God. God is wholly other. This is why an elementary understanding is inadequate. Any attempt to describe God necessarily pulls us into advanced concepts.”
“Okay, such as?”
“The universe is made up of a complex system of dependent contingencies. In other words, everything in the universe is contingent upon something else, either in the present, or the past. Everything requires something else in order to exist. Does that make sense?”
“I would have to give that some thought, but it sounds workable,” The Professor said.
“Let’s break it down, from the complex to the simple,” John said. “Animals on our planet need many things to survive, among them nutrients which come from plants, so we could say that their survival is contingent upon the planet’s ability to sustain plant growth. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Plant life’s ability to grow and thrive is contingent upon a careful balance of atmospheric gases, proper soils, nutrients, water and the right amount of sunshine, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Those contingent relationships exist in the present. These things are dependent on each other for their day to day survival. We could also go backward in time and see contingent relationships. The very emergence of life on our planet was contingent upon specific environmental conditions existing on primordial earth.”
Peregrine nodded.
“Those conditions were contingent upon other things, such as the formation and precise arrangement of bodies in the solar system. The formation of the solar system was contingent upon the solar nebula collapsing into a flat disc.
“I have to say, I’m a little surprised to hear you talking about the solar nebula.”
Father John chuckled. “Since I was a kid, I’ve always been fascinated by the night sky, and as a result, my undergrad work was in astronomy. But I didn’t come up with these ideas we’re discussing now.”
“No, I realize that. This is mainstream science.”
John nodded. “The collapse of the nebula was contingent upon a huge shockwave of energy to start the cloud’s collapse, probably produced by the explosion of a nearby star. A supernova.”
“Yes," the professor said, "and prior to the explosion, there had to be a huge cloud of interstellar dust, made up of exactly the right ratios of various elements, primarily hydrogen and helium, and those elements had to be not only just the right ratios, they had to be of a quantity sufficient to produce a tremendous amount of gravitational force.”
“Right,” Father John said. “Had those conditions not existed, the cloud would not have formed into a nebula, and the nebula would not have collapsed into a flat disc, and our solar system would not have formed. Alter any one of those factors slightly, and you and I are not sitting here. Would you agree with that?”
“I do agree.”
“And what was the cloud of interstellar dust contingent upon?” John asked.
“So, continuing backward, the cloud’s formation was contingent upon stars throwing off minute bits of debris, and other factors, such as solar winds, to move the debris, and form a cloud.”
“Right. And if you keep following those contingency linkages, it goes on and on, all the way back to the big bang.”
“Okay, I am with you,” Peregrine said. “You find a long line of dominoes which have fallen. If you trace it back, one domino at a time, you eventually find the first domino that fell, and started the whole chain reaction.”
“Correct.”
“And that first domino is the big bang.”
“Is it?” Fr. John asked.
“Well, that is the prevailing theory.”
“It is. But there’s the plot twist. What was the big bang contingent upon?”
The professor looked at him, waiting.
“See, this is the problem,” Father John said. “The notable works of modern-day atheists all begin right there, at the big bang. But the big bang itself was contingent upon the laws of physics. Had the laws of physics not already been in force, the big bang would not have occurred, and you and I would not be sitting here.”
“Okay. So, what are the laws of physics contingent upon?” the Professor asked.
“You tell me.”
The professor’s forehead crinkled a little. "Professor, if there is a law, there must be a law giver, correct?"
The professor's brow furrowed more deeply, and he looked up toward the ceiling.
“The laws of physics, in all their elegance” John said, “are contingent upon the creative impetus of an astounding intelligence. That intelligence is what which we refer to as God. You see, everything that exists is contingent upon something else, either in the past, or in the present, with only one exception. God is the non-contingent force which created the universe.”
“Father,” the Professor said, “I have to say, I am surprised. I did not expect to hear so much science and logic in a discussion about religion. Where are you getting all of this?”
“Well, it isn’t coming out of my small mind, I can tell you that. I am merely relating what I’ve learned from reading the masters, like Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Von Balthasar, and many others.”
“So, not the rantings of primitive cave dwellers cowering in fear because of thunderstorms.”
“Hardly,” Father John said. “Now that I think of it, you can include St. Nicholas in that list.”
“St. Nicholas? Are you serious?”
“St. Nicholas was a pretty intense figure. When you read about his life, you’ll be surprised. These were people with astounding intellect, and carefully cultivated reason. If you choose to read their works, you will find them to be firmly grounded in logic, and reason. The God they describe is not a hocus-pocus magician, or the figment of uneducated imaginations. The God they describe is not something you can prove or disprove by deploying an advanced deep space telescope.”
“That’s fascinating,” the professor said.
“The Holy Scriptures are the core of Catholic theology, explained and illuminated by the life works of many brilliant people.”
John realized he was getting over being freaked out by this young man. It was actually a joy to speak with him. “Having established who God is, we can begin to talk about the major tenets of the Church. But I think we should save that for our next meeting.”
“I’ve enjoyed this, Father. But I don’t think this new insight into the Church’s teaching is going to resolve the problems I am having at my job.”
“Hardly. If anything, it will cause you even more trouble.”
October 7
Perry took a second to get up his nerve, then he pushed his way past the door, into one of them expensive coffee shops. First thing in the morning, the old man was sittin' at a booth, drinking a cup of coffee prob'ly cost ten bucks. He had on that thousand-dollar coat, and his hundred-dollar haircut. He was swiping his finger across one of them big smart phones, like all suits use.
“I wanna know the hell kinda game yer playin,” Perry said.
The old man looked up at him, surprised, then his eyes narrowed. “Good morning. Sit down. Let me buy you a cup a coffee.”
“Now you gonna offer me coffee?”
“Only if you want it,” the old man said. Perfect trimmed beard, lookin at Perry like he was trying to figure out what was going on.
“If I want it? How bout you just give me the ten bucks?”
“What?”
“You know what I gotta do to get ten bucks?”
The old man kinda frowned at him, then shook his head. “Honestly, no, I don’t.”
“How much that coat cost?” asked Perry.
“Hang on a second. What are you getting at? I offered a cup of coffee. Don’t push it.”
“What am I getting at?” asked Perry. “That’s what I’m asking. What’re you getting at. The hell kinda game yer playin here?”
The old man was speechless. He did seem a little irritated, but by now, his other old man, the real one, woulda been swinging haymakers at him. This guy was so different. Perry couldn’t help but stare at him. The old man was starin' back. Seemed like it was freaking him out. Like the longer he stared, the more scared he got. Good. Perry was sick of being the only one scared. The old man was starin', blinkin', like he couldn’t decide what to say. Then he goes, “What do you know about what happened to Mac?” Changing the subject.
“Who the hell is Mac?”
“Do you know anything about what happened to my car?”
“Yer Car? Hell no, I don’t know nothin about your stinkin’ car. Why are you trying to change the subject?”
The old man stared at him some more. “Listen,” he says. “I want to help you. But you’ve got to tell me what’s going on here. I can’t make any sense of it. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Ha!” Perry belted. “I ain’t never been in nothin’ else. And neither have you, till now. And now, when everything’s all great and wonderful for you, all of a sudden you can’t think of my name.”
“Well, what is your name?”
“Look,” Perry said. “I took care a you all yer sorry life. Wiping puke off of you, carrying you back home when you was too drunk to walk. How bout now, when I need help, you do something fer me?”
The old man was just starin' and blinkin', mouth half open. Perry felt disgusted.
“Fergit it,” he said. He got up and stomped away. “As usual, nobody watchin’ out for Perry, but Perry hisself.” He shoved the door open.
Deuce was at a loss. This kid, so sassy, so sarcastic. Disrespectful, in a way, but that wasn’t exactly it. It was more like he was angry at Deuce, at him personally. Was it really a coincidence that this angry kid was lurking around when somebody sabotaged his roadster? What in hades is going on? As he left the coffee shop, he pulled out his phone and called Peregrine.
“Hello, Dad?”
“Hey, Peregrine, how are you today?”
“I’m good, Dad, hurrying across campus to get to my morning survey class. What’s up?”
“Not much. I was wondering if there was any chance of meeting for lunch. It can be somewhere close to campus. I can come to you.”
“Uh… yeah, I think that can work. My class gets out at 11:30. Is everything alright, Dad?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, Son. I’d just like to see you, hang out a little. That be okay?”
“Sure, Dad. Sounds Great. Let’s meet at the sub shop.”
“Sounds good. Noon?”
“Perfect.”
“Okay, see you then.”
