Chapter 26

Reginald Pauling felt horrible. His stomach was in knots, his head pounded, and his favorite scotch tasted like week-old bilge water. He replaced his pipe in the ashtray and leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk. His office was draped in shadows as the setting sun had long since dipped into the ocean. The university’s business was done for the day, and only an occasional student could be seen strolling across campus.

His recent meetings with Chloe Rawlings and Alistair Forester left him mentally and physically drained. Forester’s objections to Harry’s continued employment mattered little to Pauling as the man was a pompous ass. But Dr. Rawling’s complaint was a different story. It wasn’t just that she was right about being able to find work elsewhere and take her grant with her. Deep in his heart, Pauling knew she was right about Harry’s termination. That it had not been the correct thing to do. It was all politics. Pauling tried to assuage his conscience by telling himself it was all dirty academic politics, and he had been compelled to comply with the board of trustees. Either that or lose his job.

Facing the truth about himself wasn’t easy for him to do. He hadn’t the guts to stand up to the man when a friend’s career was on the line. Not so with Chloe Rawlings. The woman marched in and gave him an ultimatum, just like that. She had guts, he had to admit. The one thing he lacked, a beautiful woman possessed in spades. It seemed he had been given everything--a high-paying position, a beautiful office, a great career, fine clothes, vintage scotch--everything except guts. His self-esteem couldn’t get much lower.

Pauling massaged his temples, hoping to relieve the pain between his eyes. He was exhausted and needed a long rest. The dimness of his office matched his mood, and, as the shadows settled around him, his depression deepened. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Maybe it was time to move on.

He picked up the phone and dialed Miles Radner’s cell phone. The man’s somber tone matched his own.

“Miles, this is Reginald Pauling. Am I calling at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” was Radner’s curt reply. “How can I help you?”

“Needed to chat with you for a while, Miles. About this Harbaum affair. That is if you can spare the time.”

“Look, Dr. Pauling, if you are calling to give me my walking papers, out with it. God knows I feel bad enough about it as is. It’s probably what I deserve.”

Pauling was taken aback by Radner’s sharp abrasive tone but decided to let it pass, given all that had happened at his facility.

“No, Miles, that’s not why I called. To tell you the truth, I just needed to hear a friendly voice. I’m not well thought of by my faculty at this moment. How about you? You taking Harry’s side in this?”

Pauling sensed a hesitation in Radner’s voice, which became more conciliatory.

“Somewhat,” Radner said. “But I understand why you acted as you did.”

“But you feel I acted hastily? Bowed under pressure from the trustees?”

“Sir, I believe I have told you this before. Originally, when Harry was named our departmental chairman, I was puzzled and angry. I believed the appointment should have gone to myself. Not only was I disappointed, but I was envious as well. I hoped he would fail. When the Yetis escaped from my facility, Harry did not berate, criticize, or recommend my dismissal. When I volunteered my resignation, he refused to accept it. In fact, he tore it up. With that, my opinion of the man changed, and I have been a supporter of him ever since. So you see, Dr. Pauling, I’m not the most objective person where Harry is concerned.”

“I understand.”

“However, I have been in academic circles long enough to realize that politics can make or break a career. Not scientific achievement or publications, but dirty old politics. Envy, jealousy, and fear raise their ugly heads and careers are ruined. If you are asking my opinion, the board of trustees is a group of spineless men who are fearful of public opinion that has not even formed as yet. They are running from something that hasn’t happened. And they are ruining a couple of good people’s careers for the sake of nonexistent publicity. I find that reprehensible.”

“Well, Miles. Thanks for your honest opinion.”

“Finally, Dr. Pauling, I do not envy your position. I would hate to sit where you do. It’s bad enough from where I sit. In the end, I must believe you have made your decision in the best interests of the university. That’s what you get paid to do.”

Pauling noted the sincerity in Radner’s comments. “The crazy thing, Miles, is that I feel exactly as you do. I guess it’s why I feel horrible about everything. I honestly felt sorry for Harry. I did not relish terminating him, and I want you to know that.”

“Hell, I know that. You’ve always been fair and square with us faculty. But in this, Dr. Pauling, I want you to know that I think you’re wrong. You’ve made a mistake, and the university will suffer for it.”

“Dr. Rawlings said basically the same thing. I’m not very well liked by the faculty right now.”

“Chloe Rawlings? Yes, I know her. She speaks her mind, for sure. I’m actually surprised I had the courage to speak to you this way. I hope you didn’t take offense.”

Pauling again noted the hesitation in Radner’s tone, and it made him smile to himself. Knowing Miles Radner as he did, Pauling didn’t doubt it took a great deal of courage.

“None taken, Miles. If we cannot be frank with other then--well, what are friends for. I count your counsel as invaluable. I won’t take any more of your time. We’ll talk again.”

After hanging up with Radner, Pauling took another gulp of scotch and noticed it tasted better. The chat had lightened his spirits.

***

Millie came home to find her apartment in shambles. Roku had apparently gone wild while she was at work and ransacked the place, ripping clothes from the dresser, spilling and scattering broken dishes and pans all over the small apartment. He had clawed a hole in one of the cushions from the sofa and strewn its stuffing throughout the room. He had never done anything like this before.

She was stunned.

She found him huddled in a corner of the tiny kitchen where he had opened the refrigerator, eaten all the food, and scattered the remainder of its contents on the floor. He stared at her with yellow-slitted eyes.

She approached him, intending to give him a scolding, but when she was close, he snarled at her.

His lips curled back and revealed his white fangs. He had never done that before.

She stopped for a second then walked toward him again.

He snarled.

She signed, “What’s the matter, Roku?”

The chimera just sat huddled in the corner, staring at her.

“Why have you done this?”

Roku shifted his body and looked about the apartment.

Millie continued to sign. “Roku, are you sick? Do you not feel well? What is the matter? Why did you do this?”

Roku tilted his head, hissed, and signed back. “Who am I?”

At first, Millie didn’t think she understood his signing. “What was that?” she signed.

This time Roku lowered his head. “Who am I?”

No, she thought, she had gotten it correct the first time. “Roku, I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“I am not like you. Why?”

Millie was confused. She couldn’t comprehend or account for Roku’s sudden change. He didn’t appear to be ill. Why this line of questions? He continued to sign.

“You taught me what mother is. But you do not look like me. You cannot be my mother. Why?”

She sat on the floor in front of Roku, and he seemed less stressed. Why these new questions, now? Roku had never acted this way before, and he had never asked these types of questions before. She reached out to take his hand, but he retreated farther into the corner. She signed to him.

“Roku, mother means many things.” Millie struggled with what to say. “I brought you into this world. I created you. Do you understand?”

The chimera sat with a blank expression, his gaze firmly fixed on Millie. “What am I?”

Millie sat transfixed by the question.

“Please, Mother. What am I? Where did I come from?”

Finally, it dawned on Millie what was happening. It was Roku’s first experience with self-awareness, and it was frightening. For the first time in his life, Roku was wondering about himself, who he was, what were his origins. How was she to answer him so he could understand? Oh, she wished they were back in the lab at the research facility where she could test his intelligence.

She knew that self-awareness was one of the first components of the self-concept to emerge. While self-awareness was something that was central to each and every one of us, it was not something that we were acutely aware of at every moment of every day. Instead, self-awareness became woven into the fabric of who we were and emerged at different points depending upon the situation and our personality. Humans were not born with self-awareness.

Researchers believed that an area of the brain known as the anterior cingulate, a region of the frontal lobe, played an important role in the development of self-awareness. Experiments indicated that self-awareness began to emerge in children around the age of eighteen months, an age that coincided with the rapid growth of spindle cells in the anterior cingulate. Researchers had also used brain imaging to show that this region became activated in adults who were self-aware.

Consciousness, most scientists would argue, was not a shared property of all matter in the universe. Rather, consciousness was restricted to a subset of animals with relatively complex brains. The more scientists studied animal behavior and brain anatomy, however, the more universal consciousness seemed to be. A brain as complex as a human’s was definitely not necessary for consciousness.

Humans were more than just conscious--they were also self-aware. Scientists differed on how they distinguished between consciousness and self-awareness, but here was one common distinction: consciousness was awareness of your body and your environment, self-awareness was recognition of that consciousness--not only understanding that you existed but further comprehending that you were aware of your existence.

Presumably, human infants were conscious. They perceived and responded to people and things around them, but they were not yet self-aware. In their first years of life, children developed a sense of self, learning to recognize themselves in the mirror and to distinguish between their own point of view and the perspectives of other people.

Could this be what Roku was struggling with? She signed again.

“You are part me and part animal. Part of you is human, like me. Part of you is not.”

Roku sat up straight, his yellow eyes now flashing red.

“Why? Why? Why?”