BOOK 3: DISCLOSURE / CH. 2:BOB'S FIRST REPORT
MONDAY, AUGUST 28TH, 9AM
As you approach the Institute for the Human Mind, you see a grand entrance, fit for royalty. Where a modern building might have a few well-defined bushes or perhaps some lights subtly marking the edge of a path, all suitable for automatic sweepers to do their tasks efficiently, the Institute has beautifully manicured gardens which seem to speak of care, reliability, solidity and civic pride.
It feels like stepping back in time to an earlier age. Indeed it was founded in an earlier age, before the restoration of our monarchy, and while there have been changes, the gardens have always been there.
There was, admittedly, a brief period when essential maintenance work a decade or so ago meant that they were moved aside. Not dug up and replanted, you must understand, but the sections of the garden were actually raised on hydraulic jacks and moved to one side to enable access below them. This would have been impossible, had it not been for the foresight and attention to detail of the original architects, who designed in jacking points for the slabs on which the garden sits, just in case. They designed the building to last, and the Institute has lasted. It has survived the ravages of the years of chaos, it has survived the turmoil during the change of the constitution, it has survived riots, bombs and assassination attempts. The Institute has continued, following the
pattern set by its founders all those years ago. Universities have grown and withered and closed down or disappeared in mergers, but the Institute remained and still continues its work today, helping to unravel the secrets of one of the most incomprehensible parts of all creation, the human mind. Such an institute, such an institution, must attract attention, but in the long history of the Institute, few reporters have passed its doors. It is therefore, I feel, an immense privilege for me that I have been granted permission to be here, to spend time among the people that work here, and to report about their work. There are reporting restrictions. Not set by the Institute, but by the United Nations in plenary session. One of the rare occurrences where total unanimity was reached. One of the vanishingly small occurrences where every country of the world has enshrined the UN decision into law. I must not report any specific details about the clients or the staff. I must not say anything that might identify people who work or visit here, where they come from or where they live. In short, I must not make it any more dangerous than it is already for the people for whom this place is work, clinic or assessment centre to come here. Perhaps the next person due through these doors after me is a child with an injured skull, or perhaps it is a businessman or head of state. I must not tell. I am informed that there have been times when senior generals from opposing sides in a war have been treated here at the same time. I don't know if they met, but the UN declaration is clear, our law is clear. This is neutral ground. Everyone here is protected, whether they work here or as they come or go. This is a place of safety where personal secrets can be uttered in the sure knowledge that they will not be repeated. This is a place of safety where damaged heads can be repaired and damaged minds helped to heal. I would not desire to interfere with that noble purpose in any way. But that is only one aspect of the Institute. In my coming reports I will be able to share some of the work that the experts, geniuses and dogged researchers who labour here are carrying out, talk about results that might surprise my listeners, challenge long held beliefs, or even cause new laws to be written. Devices that were, until only recently, thought to be theoretically impossible have been designed and built. Studies are being readied for journals which will clearly lay out incontrovertible evidence that will challenge established wisdom, and the world will listen and be changed. The Institute, however, shows every sign of continuing for another fifty, hundred or two hundred years. And so I invite you to come with me, where cameras do not come and reporters do not report. I invite you to come with me, into the Institute.
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“What do you think?” Bob asked Kate.
“Oooh, can I work there, please? It sounds like a fascinating place.”
“Silly, you do.”
“Hey, who are you calling silly?”
“I'm calling silly the newly-wed young woman I can see who's wearing a body which is much too mature for her real age.”
“Oh, flattery! Did you hear that, Pete? Learn!”
“I heard it, Kate my love. I don't need to flatter you, you can just look inside my skull and know how much I adore you. I'm not actually sure it was flattery though. If you turn it round then he's calling you emotionally immature or old and decrepit.”
“Oooh, you beast. I'll get you for that.”
“Later, love. Later.”
“OK, Pete, you're on. Bob, I think it'll do very very well. It certainly makes me want to watch the next report. And you'll be broadcasting them at mid-day?”
“Just after the lunchtime news slot on Mondays and Thursdays, with an evening repeat, yes. Albert didn't want there to be too much of a delay between the journal publications arriving first thing in the morning and my reports going out.”