Failing Upward

Chapter 7 (part 3): The Universe is a Computer

When Mary climbed out of the car at the auditorium, her breasts almost fell out. Sherlock's eyes lingered for an instant then looked away. Mary's breasts have that effect--kinda like a bad car accident. You don't want to look, but you can't look away. Mary talks animatedly about her day, and Sherlock filled her in on the subject of Dr. Lestrade's lecture tonight, which we could both tell, bored Mary. She was a bright person, but her interests didn't include computers. Period. She hates them. But hand her a Wall Street Journal , and she was in heaven.

"You know," she said, "it was nice of Mrs. Hudson to get these tickets."

"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "John is very interested in this, aren't you John?" I nodded. "It's so important to have common interests in a relationship."

"Common interests are overrated," said Mary. "Look at Phil and I, flower delivery boy by day and alcoholic by night hitches up with a hot LPN." Sherlock smirked, and I patted his ass.

He liked it.

We sat in the center of the third row, and the auditorium filled quickly. From the buzz we heard around us, Dr. Gregory Lestrade was an excellent speaker. Sherlock sat reading the promo info on Lestrade they'd handed out at the door while I gazed up at the ceiling tiles with John Lennon singing... "I had to count them all, now I know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall..." I looked over a Sherlock, who was still engrossed. Hmm, " I'd love to turn you on ." I sighed.

Hmm, maybe if I put my hand on his knee? There, that got his attention.

Ahh, he scratched his nose. Handsome nose. Then he pressed a finger to his even more attractive lips. So hot. Right now I wanted him more than anything in the whole wide, micro-processing universe.

The good Dean Withers waddled out to introduce the speaker. Sherlock laid his hand over the top of mine, lightly brushing my knuckles with his index finger.

I hardly recognized Dr. Lestrade when he walked out: wide steps, shoulders back, arms relaxed. He commanded the auditorium, or maybe conducted was a better word. The audience sat up in their seats like an orchestra coming to attention as the baton raises. Even Mary sat alert.

The lecture was fascinating. He conveyed the theory in layman's terms using both anecdotes and analogies. I understood most of what he said--still, there were moments that I was a little lost. I could tell that Sherlock was getting it, and by the way Mary kept shifting around that she didn't. I wasn't sure about Anderson since he wore his usual vacant stare.

I made direct eye contact with Lestrade exactly three times during the lecture. And I'm pretty sure he was looking and speaking directly at Sherlock often.

The question and answer session at the end was the most interesting and confusing. They discussed some basic science, and Mary perked up--

Sherlock raised his hand, asking the last question.

"If the universe is unfolding reality as it makes its computations, then aren't you in essence stating that man has no control over his destiny? That it is unfolded for him?"

"Yes, in a sense I am. And no I am not." He answered. "Quantum theory contains many paradoxes."

"That sounds more like a politician answering than a scientist," I whispered to Sherlock, covering my mouth with my hand. Lestrade stared at me. I didn't know how, but his eyes seemed to indicate that he knew what I'd said.

We sat talking a few moments, waiting for the crowd to thin when a well-dressed little man with green tennis shoes limped up to us.

"Professor Lestrade would like to meet you. Would you mind following me back stage?" he asked.