Chapter 49
Rodney
Rodney Reynolds was a mathematics phenomenon and the most intellectually gifted student at the Institute. With an IQ higher than Einstein, Rodney developed the complex equations required for the Institute’s advanced technology, but his insatiable search for answers made him perpetually miserable. He had a knack for spreading discontent and became a pariah among the students. He enjoyed making provocative statements to see how people would react. His favorite target was Chris.
“Face it Chris. Technology is our Christ, the savior of mankind. Steve is using genome tech to make humans stronger and smarter. Brian will soon be using bio-tech and renewable energy to create a sustainable environment. Matt is applying computer algorithms to perform previously impossible calculations for a resource-based economy, and your little buddy Dan is utilizing the Internet to sell the whole package. So why do we need God?”
Chris sighed and hung his head. There was some truth to Rodney’s argument. The Institute’s focus was primarily on technology, Chris’s main concern when he enrolled.
“You think you’re clever Rodney, but I’m not buying it. Despite your protests, I know you believe in God.”
“I don’t deny it. I was raised as a Christian, but what I don’t accept is Biblical inerrancy, or the supernatural interpretation of most of the events in the Bible. My faith in God is based on rational observation. I don’t need some religious authority figure in a pointed hat or holy text book to tell me that God is real. I’m a Deist.”
“So why are you angry with Christians?” Chris asked.
“I’m not angry, I just don’t understand them. Many Christians who claim to worship God are in fact worshiping the Bible, a book so full of errors and contradictions that any rational person should reject it.”
“O.K., I’ll bite. Why is the Bible inconsistent?” Chris asked.
“Well to begin with, it was commissioned by the pagan Constantine as a way to unify the Roman Empire.”
“So what makes you think God wasn’t using Constantine to spread Christianity?”
“Because Constantine said Christ commanded him to design the cross out of gold and precious stones and have it inscribed ‘By this symbol you will conquer.’ That’s in direct conflict with the twentieth chapter of Exodus, verses four and five: ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.’”
“I’m impressed with your knowledge of scriptures Rodney, but the Bible isn’t a tech manual. You can’t use mathematical reasoning to critique it. It’s a living document. There are plenty of things we don’t understand, like why the first two verses of Ezra are a verbatim recopy of the last two verses of Second Chronicles. The Bible is still inerrant,” Chris said with a confident smile.
Rodney rolled his eyes, “What? How can you insist the Bible is inerrant? It’s full of errors and you know it. For many the Bible itself has become a graven image. Most Christians worship the Bible, not God.”
“It’s a matter of faith.” Chris insisted. “The Bible is the word of a perfect God written by imperfect men. God uses human inadequacies to teach us to have faith. Everything in the Bible is there for a reason, even those things that seem like errors to an unbelieving world.”
Rodney threw his hands in the air, “I give up. You drank the Kool-Aid.” He was mocking Chris, but understood the argument. He secretly admired Chris and wanted to share his unshakable faith.
By the end of the fifth year, Dan had completed his thesis in computer science and was awarded a Master’s degree. That may sound impressive, but Haley and Dan’s other friends were receiving PhDs. Graduates gathered for a celebration trip to Bok Tower Gardens in Lake Wales.
Even though the gardens at the Institute contained the most impressive collection of plants on the planet, the Bok Tower Gardens had a warm and familiar appeal. Maybe it was the native plants or perhaps the unobstructed views from the 298-foot hill known as Iron Mountain. Whatever it was, students from ORION spent more time there than any other place off campus.
Mr. Weston made special arrangements as usual. He was the highest level member of the gardens and used his considerable influence to convince the non-profit organization to provide on-site housing for fifteen students (including Rodney) for a three-day weekend. The entire 12,900 square foot estate they called Pinewood was reserved. Claude accompanied the group.
The bus arrived a little before 10 a.m. It was a sunny Friday morning and a pleasant woman named Mary McDermott greeted the bus. She seemed genuinely excited to have lodgers. The estate was open at times for tours and formal parties, but it was rare to have overnight guests.
The large Mediterranean-style home was decorated for Christmas, but the public holiday tours hadn’t commenced. Claude was on a first name basis with the staff which wasn’t a surprise since he had been there many times. It was one of the first places he visited when he came to America.
Haley thought it was amusing when Claude was repeatedly greeted with “You look great Claude, you never get any older.” She wondered what they would say if the staff knew he attended President Calvin Coolidge’s dedication of the tower and sanctuary in 1929.
Pinewood Estate offered a welcome change from the high-tech efficiency of the Institute. In spite of its bold and awe-inspiring futuristic architecture, the school’s lodging lacked the warmth and earthiness of a home. For that reason, Claude and Noreen remained in the house originally built on the property despite the convenience afforded in the Institute’s staff lodging.
Upon entering Pinewood Estate, one room instantly became the students’ favorite. It contained an intimate seating area in front of a giant marble fireplace. They gathered in front of the enormous hearth, soaking up the ambience, talking for hours. The high ceilings were lined with exposed beams and lighting fixtures were ornate wrought iron. The room glowed from sunlight flowing through huge glass-paned arched doors. Spectacular wood carvings extended two feet beyond the doors to the ceiling.
A small courtyard was visible outside. The brilliant green of the tropical plants created a stunning contrast against the orange stone walls. Scattered red and blue flowers dotted the garden revealing the character of an elegant home.
Dan was the only one of the Prophies who would be continuing classwork in school, but the others were remaining at the Institute to conduct research. This was a major milestone for everyone.
By the end of the afternoon, Steve was kneeling on one knee at the tower reflecting pond proposing to Tammy. She said yes.
Chris and Haley announced their upcoming wedding at dinner, but the greatest surprise came when Rodney said he would be attending divinity school.
“Congratulations Rodney, I knew you were a true believer,” Chris said as he shook Rodney’s hand.
“What is a true believer?” Rodney asked without waiting for a reply. “Don’t lump me in with everyone else preacher man. I’m still searching.”
Claude had arranged a private tour of Bok Tower in the evening. It was dark when the troop of eight departed for the tour. As they approached the building, massive tile grilles near the top glowed like a stained-glass beacon. There was no moon or city lights to obscure the thousands of stars twinkling in the clear black sky.
The group entered through the great brass door into the Founders Room. The interior resembled a palace with delicate pink and gray granite walls, an ornate ceramic tile floor, and a large fireplace. The high domed ceiling looked like it belonged in a grand cathedral. Steve joked, “Where’s the Pope?”
Claude led the way up a wrought-iron staircase. The second level held historical items including important documents, antique furniture, and photographs. As he inspected a picture taken when the gardens opened, Steve discovered a familiar face in the shadows behind President Coolidge. It was Claude. He looked a little more youthful, but it was still hard to comprehend the picture was taken more than seventy years earlier.
“Man, you must live under that tree!” Steve joked, referring to the Tree of Life.
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“I do most of my reading there in the screened gazebo,” Claude replied. “And Noreen and I dance a waltz beneath the limbs twice each week. You guys are welcome to stop by and breathe the air anytime.”
The troop passed a mechanical room and a maintenance workshop on the third and fourth levels before stopping at the library on the fifth. The Tower custodian was happy to point out library contents, the largest collection of carillon history and music in the world.
The sixth level was a comfortable office and studio with recording equipment. They rested until Claude reluctantly allowed them to climb the spiral staircase to the level with the bells. The massive carillons created an appearance of a scene from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
“There’s nothing up there but machinery and lightning rods,” Claude insisted, knowing some of the students would want to climb the catwalk ladder to the roof.
Suddenly from behind one of the largest bells, a man bounded off the catwalk toward Haley. Rodney jumped in front of her and took the full force of the man’s weight crashing down.
He was a member of the Qabalah. Rodney grimaced as the point of the man’s cane pierced his leg. Haley turned and was face to face with the attacker before the others could react. The man took one step toward her, prepared to stab her with his cane, but turned into dust. His cane, clothes, hat and glasses were left in a heap on the floor.
“What happened? Did your Indian Chief do that?” Dan asked Matt.
“No,” he replied. “Haley did it.”
“Please remind me not to piss her off,” Dan joked before he realized Rodney wasn’t getting up. He laid motionless, without breathing and without a pulse.
Claude pulled out a small case containing a vile of Wyeth anti-venom and a syringe. He carried a small supply on field trips ever since he confirmed Coral Snake venom was the original poison used by the Qabalah to kill John Weston.
He injected Rodney and started CPR, but Rodney had already turned pale and cold.