As She Climbed Across the Table Read Free Page B

their plates, forking up unknown quantities to meet trembling lips. Peas and rice tumbled back to the table.
    Alice began to talk. “In physics we have an observer problem,” she said. “Suppose we take a spinning electron and observe which direction its spin axis lies along. We find, oddly enough, that it lies along whatever direction we choose to observe from.”
    “An observer problem, huh,” said Garth, with disturbing emphasis.
    “This chicken is very good,” said Evan.
    “We rarely have chicken,” said Garth.
    We were eating fish. I said nothing.
    “Some people think the observer’s consciousness determines the spin or even the existence of the electron.”
    “I believe the salt is three, maybe four inches to the right of your plate.”
    “More like five.”
    “That’s probably closer to my plate, then.”
    “It’s a problem of subjectivity, really. How can the observer make an objective observation? It’s impossible.”
    “A problem of subjectivity. Huh.”
    I wanted to interrupt. Alice’s effort seemed hopeless. I hadn’t learned yet that Evan and Garth were listening.
    “We spoke about this before, didn’t we?” said Garth. “In her office, last Friday.”
    “Yes, that’s right,” said Evan. A grain of rice clung to his upper lip. “In her office.”
    “About what time?”
    “About three in the afternoon.”
    “Roughly ninety-six hours ago. Is that what you’re saying?”
    “That’s about right.”
    “Huh.” Garth raised his head, aimed his eyes at the ceiling. Alice and I looked at him.
    “Well,” he said, “we got a book.”
    “From the library,” said Evan.
    “We read about it. The observer problem.”
    “That’s wonderful,” said Alice.
    “She says it’s wonderful,” said Evan, as if Garth couldn’t hear anyone but him.
    “I think I understand,” said Garth. “It’s a problem of subjectivity, knowing. Thinking. Observing is like thinking.”
    “Yes.”
    “Except for me. I can see without thinking. That’s what they mean by blindsight. Not that it’s doing me any good. Huh.”
    “Yes,” said Alice again. The white man and the black man smiled. Some kind of understanding had been reached. I was alone in my confusion.
    “What’s blindsight?” I said.
    “He wants to know what blindsight is.” They snorted over private ironies. “Do you want to tell him?”
    “I’ll tell him. What time is it?”
    “Five-fifty-seven. What time is the last bus?”
    “Eleven. I’ve got five-fifty-eight.”
    They reset and corroborated the bulky braille watches. Garth leaned back in his chair and fixed his ungaze on a point a foot or so to the left of my face. “Evan and I are blind in different ways,” he said. “Evan has eyes that don’t work. There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”
    “I’m amaurotic,” said Evan, with a hint of pride.
    “My eyes work fine,” said Garth. “But I have an atrophy of a part of my brain associated with visual awareness.” He was quoting some text, I could tell. “My eyes work fine. I can see. I just don’t know I can see.”
    “He can’t know.”
    “My brain doesn’t understand sight.”
    “Blindsight,” said Alice excitedly, “is when you trick Garth into forgetting he doesn’t know he can see. The doctor commands him to reach for an object. He grabs it without hesitation. When the doctors trace the vectors of his hands, arms, fingers, and the movement of his eyes, they’re all precise. He still doesn’t experience sight, but he’s unquestionably seeing. Making an observation.”
    “Not that it does me any good. Huh.”
    It slowly sank in. “Observation without consciousness,” I said.
    “Observation without subjective judgment,” said Alice.
    “The spin of a particle,” I said.
    “Physics,” said Alice.
    “Your office is in the physics building,” said Evan.
    “We were there,” said Garth. “It’s about five blocks from the bus stop.”

Alice and I had sex that night. For a long time afterward we