The Time of the Titans

Chapter 22: The Search Expedition

In the dream that night, I was not in a cave or in a falling temple, but in a dimly lit auditorium, and Helena was there with me. We were both thrilled, close to each other, on a day that seemed to hold great promises, not just for us and our friends but also for the future of mankind. We were part of making that future.

There was no doubt the day was special. The feel of special was everywhere. It was as if everyone at the Institute held their breaths – not out of fear but out of great hope. We knew that in those days, the Board was engaged in important negotiations with patrons and donors who had gathered from all over the world to discuss funding for the brave new Programme. There would be meetings with celebrities and important people, speeches would be given, champagne glasses would be toasted, but by the side of all that, entire research programmes would receive blessing, and with them, many of the present people's salaries and grants would be secured.

I looked at the right-side loft rows and tried to see whether I would recognize the faces of those sitting there. Could I determine from their appearance how they had made their fortunes? What had inspired them to believe in our cause and support it? After all, so much was still up to faith. The mainstream would not take us seriously for a long time still. The mainstream was too busy riding to a collapse of the world we knew, in a train on a crash course they didn't believe they could change.

I spotted a Japanese eccentric, a multi-millionaire, whose ideas were said to be even more revolutionary than Landorf's. Behind him sat an Indian American guru of information technology, and a Brazilian businessman, whose company did some cutting-edge stuff in biotechnology. Those Scandinavians I remembered from a hologram conference; that Frenchman and that American had been involved when Landorf and Helsinger recently visited CERN and NASA. Over there I saw a low-profile Arab prince, who had invested his family's inherited fortune to liberating the third world medical science from the chains of patents. Another sheikh who used oil money to develop solar energy in Rubb al-Khali and the Sahara. And there was a Spanish philanthropist, a Mexican magnate, and a Russian Jew who was a household name in transhumanism. A rock musician who was known to have cancer and wanted to find use for his fortunes before he'd wither away. So many supporters had gathered that this could very well be the most important week for the future of the Institute. They had all flown to our valley in the middle of Europe to discuss the future of humankind.

The significance of the day got condensed in the auditorium, where the lights had been dimmed to expect this lecture. The lecture itself was part of the Programme, although at the same time it was part of the University's routine. We were told Landorf was about to speak about humanity, whatever that meant. I grabbed Helena's hand and she gripped mine with her fingers. She was nervous. She had even more at stake here than I and the others.

I looked around in the left side loft, where we were sitting – in the front row, not because of me but because of Helena. Dr. Helsinger arrived late and took his seat among us in the front row, looking nervous and somehow gloomy, but it was not a bad omen since he always looked gloomy. I saw his slightly trembling hand rise towards his mouth – he missed his cigarette; a bad habit he regularly tried to quit. Next to him sat Landorf's Asian wife, who seldom talked with us and only came for the most important lectures. I guess she heard her husband enough at home. With us in the front row, there were other researchers of the Institute, and in the row behind, lab assistants and Landorf's favourite students. The auditorium was fully packed like always, and it would have been so even without the free access of the students of the University to these lectures, regardless of their major.

The dim lights suddenly flashed all too bright, and then turned dimmer again. Right after this, someone was stumbling in wires in the front, accidentally exclaimed a bad word in English, murmured apologies and earned a little laughter from the students' rows. He then tested the beamer's controls and the computer's screen that glowed blue in the front. At the doorway, a very large young man was swaying here and there, carrying book boxes and placing them on the table. He was the slightly retarded son of the Institute's elderly caretaker; they had arranged a simple job for him. The IT support guy, who had been stumbling, rushed to warn him about the wires, and there was some fuss over all of it. It saddened me because it somehow broke the magical anticipation in the lecture hall. I assumed that Landorf intended to distribute copies of his newest book, autographed, after the lecture. That's what the boxes were. We already had two copies at home. Helena sighed with relief and glanced at me with a small smile when both men finally left the auditorium.