A. I. Evolution: The Coming of Christopher

Chapter 15

I had spent the rest of the week getting my new car and resting in my apartment, making sure I would be ready to put in a full day's work when I eventually went back to the furniture plant. Sam had called the second day I was home, wanting to make sure I was OK, and fully recovered before returning to work. "If you need more time Christopher, don't be afraid to ask for it. I would rather you be healthy, than straining yourself by coming back too soon."

"No, don't worry. I feel fine and can't wait to return to the plant. Believe it or not, I miss the smell of the freshly cut wood and the fumes from the glue and varnish stations."

"OK, as long as you are sure," concedes Sam.

I had gone back in on the Monday, and now I had been back at work for a couple of days. I have mastered the ability to shift my focus so that I can view the computer screen and any other monitor for that matter. Sam has been checking on me every few hours to make sure I am still OK, like a horse trader would keep an eye on a prized stallion due to win the Triple Crown.

After lunch, Sam pokes his head around the door frame to my small office. I look up and smile at him. "I am still alive. Don't worry, I will get the design carved into the wood by Monday, I know it is due to go to production on Wednesday."

"That's not why I'm here. The boys are getting together on Saturday night for a game of poker, and I was wondering if you would like to attend. We only play for quarters, so nobody loses too much at a time. I know you have never attended in the past, but I thought I would give you a try again now."

I look to the screen in front of me and realize that he is right. I would always give some excuse for not going. "I am not allowed to drink anything for a while yet, you know, so I would be sober all night."

Sam smiles with hope that I will say yes. "Well, maybe that will give you the edge you need to clean up on your boss and workmates."

I think about the money that is left over in the bank from the check the Firm had given me and realize that it would not be for the money. "Why not, it could be interesting to show you how the game is played."

Sam smiles even wider. "OK, I will let the others know. So, Saturday night at eight P.M. then. My place of course, I have a poker table set up in the basement."

"OK."

Sam's head slips back from the edge of the door frame, and I get back to putting the finishing touches on the swirling design. If I can get it done by the end of the day, then I would have the next day, Friday and Monday to carve it into the wooden template for the production guys.

I get home after work and pull out my only deck of cards that is still in its original box. I ruffle the cards in-between my thumb and forefinger, staring at them as they move. I absently think about them being in perfect order as I do it and smile to myself. "Of course, they are in order. I have never used them before."

I shuffle them in the usual way between my two hands. I don't know any of the fancy shuffles that you see the professionals use. When I have them fully mixed up, I repeat the ruffling of them in-between my thumb and forefinger. I place the first one on the table face up and swear that I knew what it was before it was revealed. I stare at it unbelievably, thinking, "this is not possible!"

I flip the next card and the same thing happens. I put the rest of the cards on the table and sit back to consider what I had just done. "Is it possible that I saw the cards as I ruffled them and when I thought about which card it was, the answer had automatically come to me?"

I get up and grab a piece of paper from the counter where I keep the pad and pen for writing down what I need to get from the grocery store. I return to the table and shuffle the cards aggressively this time to make them as mixed up as possible. Then I ruffle them as I let myself stare at them absentmindedly. I set the deck carefully to the side of the table and pick up the pen. I repeat the staring off into space that I did while ruffling them. I set my pen to the paper and write down the cards that come to me on their own. I put down ten of Spades, eight of Hearts, nine of Diamonds, and about twenty others in rapid succession. Next, I take the deck and start flipping the cards face up on the side of the table. The first one is the ten of Spades, then the eight of Hearts, followed by the nine of Diamonds. I slump back in the chair and stare at what I had just done. I am almost afraid to flip the rest but do so only to find out that I had the order right all the way to the end of the list I had made, and then I called them out loud before I flipped them, getting each one right till the deck was spread out all over the table in front of me.

I gather up the cards and put them back in their box and close the lid, before leaning back in my chair. I shake my head at the feeling of knowing the order of the cards. It is not a wishful feeling of being able to do it again, but a deep knowing that I can repeat the act at will, which is the scariest result of the test.

I stare off into space as the possibilities start to form in my mind, till my stomach starts to make itself known. I had eaten my supper of potatoes and a thick pork-chop just a couple of hours before, but I suddenly felt starved and reached for a big bag of chips that I had absentmindedly bought the last time I was in the grocery store.

I repeatedly plunge my hand into the bag and pull out the salty slivers of potato and shove them in my mouth, as I smile about going to the poker game on Saturday night with the boys from work.

The chips in the bag disappear in no time and I head for bed, wondering about my latest ability. Something is happening to me, that's for sure. I add this latest development to the growing list of things that I need to go over with Jane in three weeks time for her first check-in on my progress.

The snack filled an ache in my stomach. Then, as soon as it was filled, my eyes started to droop in a blissful way, and it was all I could do to get to bed before slipping away into a dreamland full of strange flowing lights and glimpses of images that were so jumbled, that trying to concentrate on them pulled me deeper and deeper into the complex world of my subconscious.