“I’m sorry,” I said, “the door was open.”
“Well, technically, the door was unlocked, but it was closed.” The man was middle-aged or maybe a bit older, Caucasian, with long, wavy gray hair. He wore thick-framed black glasses, a long-sleeve white cotton shirt, and plain blue jeans. He didn’t seem angry that I’d entered without permission. More like…amused.
“This album is called Song of Innocence by a man named David Axelrod,” he said. “It should have been far more popular than it was.”
“It’s interesting music,” I said.
“It certainly is.” The man nodded. His hawkish face was well-lined and clearly life-worn, but his eyes, which were two slightly different shades of blue, held a bright youthful sparkle.
We stood facing each other for a moment, before something changed in the man’s expression. The smile slowly faded from his lips, and a kind of recognition passed over his face.
“Hello, K,” he said.
“How do you know my name?”
“I knew your parents.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
He laughed. “Well, that’s a complicated question. But everyone just calls me Crow.”
“Crow?”
“That’s right,” he said.
“What is this place?”
“Well, that’s an even more complicated question, I’m afraid, but I’ll do my best to answer it in as satisfactory a manner as possible.”
He smiled again, wider this time, as if he’d just remembered something amusing.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that you remind me of your mother.”
“How did you know my parents?”
“We did some work together, a long time ago.”
I took another look around the place. This was some serious Bruce Wayne–level shit. What the hell was this guy doing working with my parents?
“What is this place? Do you…live here?”
“My living quarters are located on the floor below us,” he said. “This is where I spend most of my time, however. We call it The Terminal.” He pulled out his phone, hit a few virtual buttons, and the giant video screen lit up.
After a few seconds, the screen became a giant map of the world.
The man called Crow made a series of short waving motions with his hands, and that movement caused the image to zoom in closer to North America. He was manipulating the screen using some kind of advanced kinetic control system. It was extremely cool, but it felt like something out of a near-future sci-fi movie, not technology that was currently available.
“There are facts, lines, patterns, and laws beneath the world you recognize, K.”
That sounded more like the beginning of a speech than a statement requiring some kind of response, so I waited for him to continue.
“Numbers are significant,” Crow continued. “For example, there is a number representing all of the women in the entire world who have given birth within the past hour.”
The camera’s slow zoom continued into the United States.
“There is an exact number of people who were married this week, and a number who have dropped out of high school over that same period. These are specific numbers, precise numbers. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure that I do.”
He smiled, motioned again, and the camera continued its zoom into the West Coast of the United States.
“There’s one number representing the amount of people who currently hold a winning national lottery ticket, and another for the number of unfortunate folks currently locked in the trunk of a car while being transported to another location.”
“Jesus,” I said. That took a bit of a dark turn.
Whatever app was manipulating the images on Crow’s giant screen zoomed toward the city of Seattle, as he turned away from the screen to face me.
“All of these numbers exist. They are exact, and they are knowable.”
“That’s obvious—logically speaking,” I said. “But the fact that those numbers are knowable in theory doesn’t mean they’re at all knowable in practice.”
“Ah, but with respect, K, that is exactly what it means.”
“Again, conceptually, I understand everything you’re saying,” I said, “but it still feels a lot more like a thought experiment than an actual possibility.”
“Why?”
“Although I’m willing to concede those numbers exist, they would be essentially impossible to know, and certainly impossible to check for accuracy.”