The Tree of Knowledge by Daniel Miller (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📕

coat, and said, “As I said, I’m only as good as the information I have. Eva knows about Ms. Koh’s involvement and told you to run. Then that is what we must do. If I know Eva Fix, the police will be here any minute, and she will ensure that all three of us are brought to account. Now is not the time for confrontation. Ying, I’m afraid you’re going with us for the time being. Grab my papers and come. I know of a place where we can go and gather ourselves.”

The sound of far-off sirens shattered the peace of Turner’s living room.

Albert and Ying locked eyes in disbelief. How was it that this morning they had been preparing for the first day of class and now they, along with their revered mentor, were running for their lives? It was surreal. It was tempting to just refuse to believe it. But logic was their default; what was happening was indeed happening; so, like Boy Scouts lost in the woods, they gathered their things and followed the leader.

Minutes later, Turner’s Buick rumbled out of the driveway and onto a side road, with Albert in the front and Ying perched in the middle of the back seat.

Two police cars, lights flickering and sirens blaring, raced by them in the opposite direction. Instinctively, the two passengers slid down in their seats.

“Where are we going?” screeched Ying.

“We are going to the country,” said the professor. “I have some friends who may be able to help us.”

The storm that had been crouching over Albert earlier in the day had now pounced, and a steady rain came tumbling down on the windshield of the aged automobile. He opened the window a crack and noticed how the soothing, warm air of this morning had morphed into a raw, wet, inhospitable world of gray. He smelled electricity in the air.

Albert’s body ached as though that same raw chill had penetrated every aspect of his life, and it made him ill. Ever since he was a kid, Albert had longed for a deeper sense of purpose. He loved comic book superheroes, mystery detectives, and thriller tough guys—not for the powers they possessed but for the fights they fought. He, too, wanted to battle evil and villainy, not grapple with ambiguous and complex problems. To him, it seemed that theirs was a life of purpose and passion, whereas his was a life of dry, abstract pursuits.

But now, as he stared out from the passenger seat of Turner’s sedan, he did not feel purpose. He felt terror. His stomach clenched as though it would never digest food again. His heart pumped at a furious pace. Waves of fear radiated from his temples and spread throughout his body, causing every limb and muscle group to curl inward. Instead of rising to the challenge, as he always hoped he would do, Albert wanted nothing more than to shrink from it. To go back to this morning in his office and decline the detective’s request for help. Or take the decision tree and burn it. To go on living a life of comfort without meaning. But as the car splashed down the highway through the growing downpour, Albert knew that his life would have purpose . . . and meaning . . . and fear . . . and perhaps . . . an early death.

Part II

An Education

Then the eyes of both of them were opened,

and they knew that they were naked.

—Genesis 3:7

Chapter 1

Eva sat on the sterile gray swoop-back chairs of the John F. Kennedy International Airport and reflected on what she had just seen.

She had finally reunited with Dilbert. Never in her life did she believe she would see him again, though she thought of him often and even dreamed of him. In her dreams, he was an idealization of himself, but reality disappointed. The man—and the experience of seeing him—seemed so much smaller, like touring the hallways of her former elementary school. But when she had finally spoken to him in that dreary parking lot outside of the police station and felt his earnestness and precision—saw the kindness in the modest wrinkles around his eyes—she was fourteen all over again. The hard exterior that she had so carefully constructed and maintained over the years began to groan under the warmth of his presence; at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to give up the path of ambition, calculation, and competition—shed the last ten years, all that she had done—and just share in an ordinary life with someone. Not for any facet of that life in particular, but for the feeling of sharing . . . something, anything.

She had hoped that Dilbert would feel the same way. That his feelings for her were strong enough . . . now that she wasn’t a girl anymore . . . that maybe he would see the longing in her eyes, her desire, the person she could be . . . and give her another chance. It pained her to lie to him, but she knew that the truth was not an option. Dilbert painted in black and white. She loved that about him then and now, and it sharpened her regret even more.

How did I get here?

For Eva, it began with a story and a moment. When Eva was a child, her mother often worked late into the evening. As children often do, Eva would burst into her mother’s home office and nag her to play a game or watch a movie. To stop the nagging and buy herself some additional time to finish her work, Eva’s mother would give her logic puzzles or riddles. Most of the puzzles Eva solved and discarded, but one puzzle resonated with the girl: the story of the lady and the tiger.

In the story, a beautiful princess falls in love with a commoner. The two of them court for months, but eventually, the king discovers the affair. He