E2K: a journal for the new literary paradigm

Fiction

What If

by G. L. Rockey

Ed looks miserable. Come to think of it, Ed always looks miserable. Even when he smiles, once in a while, his round face contorts in a miserable little smile.

For example, on a sunny day, if you say, nice day, huh Ed? He half-smiles and says, "Yeah, guess so, but it's suppose to rain tomorrow." If you say, good hamburger, huh Ed?, he frowns and reminds you of the fat content, cholesterol, goes on for half an hour about plugged up arteries, stroke, all that stuff. Same with French fries, onion rings. Ice cream bloats him. Cheese binds him. If you want to watch TV, Ed tells you about eye strain, retinas, brain cells, cost of glasses. If you want to play computer games, he reminds you about the need to exercise, society going to the dogs. On top of the doom and gloom, everything is a 'what if' with Ed. What if this, what if that, what if what?

For example, a baseball game, if you went: What if the stadium roof falls in? Elevators, sky scrapers, what if there is an electric outage, even worse, an earthquake, or worse yet . . . you know. Airplanes. He wouldn't even discuss airplanes. If we were meant to fly, he'd say . . . you know that line. Then there was sex. What if it wasn't? No AIDS, unwanted pregnancies.

Anyway, it is a week before Easter and, dressed in his purple sweats and black BOSS baseball hat, Ed looks especially miserable. We are having lunch, spinach salads at Applebees (not my first choice, I like Kentucky Fried Chicken), and Ed says, "Chad, what if science is wrong?"

Munching a spinach leaf, I look at him, wondering what the catch is, then remember, it's Ed. I say: "Science can't be wrong. Science is a process. A theory, hypothesis, tests, prove or disprove the null. Science can't be wrong."

He points his fork toward the ceiling and holds it like he's receiving thought. "Oh, so the process can't be wrong but the proofs that come out of it may be wrong, right?"

"Give me an example." I munch a pine nut.

"I read the other day that somebody at Yale did a study and found that people who watch Road Runner cartoons are prone to violence."

"So."

"I watch Road Runner cartoons and I've never even pulled a carrot out of the ground."

"What's that got to do with violence?"

"The earth . . . pain . . . the carrot's feelings . . ."

"Oh, okay, so what kind of . . . did they say what kind of study it was . . . the violence thing?"

"Psychology something."

"That's social science, not hard science."

"What's hard science?"

"Law of gravity, Einstein, E=MC2, energy equals mass times the speed of light squared, mathematics, numbers, H2O, chemistry, physics."

He takes a sip of water. "The proofs that come out of that can be wrong too."

I pick a piece of spinach stuck between my front teeth. "Give me an example."

"Okay, three lights on a match is bad luck."

"Come on Ed, that's not science, that's black magic, superstition."

"How come every time I light three on a match, I get bad luck?"

"You can't prove that?"

Ed smirks. "If it happens nine out of ten times is that proof?"

"Not in hard science. Has to be a hundred percent, law of gravity, stuff like that."

"What about soft science?"

"Whata you mean?"

"Nine out of ten times . . . the match thing."

"You mean like 90 percent of the time, you light three on a much, you got bad luck . . . sure, IF it happened, social sciences would say that's proof. Margin of error is small."

"How about five out of ten?"

"That's stretching it . . . chance."

"Luck?"

"Yeah."

"If I flip a coin 100 times and it comes up heads 50 times, that's chance?"

"It won't."

"How about a billion times."

"Probably will."

He looks at me for a second. "So it's not the flipping, it's just the number of times you flip?"

"Something like that."

"And if I flip a billion times and it comes up heads 90 percent of the time, that's science?"

"Wouldn't you say that's pretty convincing evidence?"

"Of what, flipping?"

"Can we change the subject?"

"What if science--hard and soft, the process--is wrong and black magic is right?" Ed wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"Magic is magic, it can't be real." I shake my head.

"What about the sun?"

"The sun?"

"It comes up every day, same place, every day, for as long as we know."

"That's real science, hard. One hundred percent."

He points his fork at me. "What about the rooster?"

"Rooster?"

"Every time the rooster crows, the sun comes up."

"So?"

"What if they kill all the roosters?"

"Sun still will come up."

"What about chicks, Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

By way of Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, G.L. graduated from Michigan State University and pursued a career in the television industry. He produced/directed news and entertainment programs and wrote sundry television scripts and proposals. He created "Southern Artisans," a series seen on the Southern Educational Communication Association (SECA) Network. While Program Manager at KTSP-TV, Phoenix, the station won three National Association of Television and Program Executives' (NATPE) program awards. Additionally, he represented NATPE to Hamburg, Germany. Awarded a Master of Applied Communication Theory and Methodology degree, he taught at a local university. Most recently London Circle published his romance suspense thriller, Time & Chance. His first novel, The Journalist, received a five star ("outstanding, engrossing, a classic") rating from Inscriptions Magazine. G.L. resides in Ohio with wife Connie.