‘An abyss …’ Saul repeated. ‘God, this stuff is really good … Where was I? Oh, yeah, I mean, experience accuses science of being reductionist and authoritarian, while science dismisses experience as subjective, anecdotal and self-deceived. We have an absurd situation where the first-person narrative of experience and the third-person narrative of experiment shout insults at each other from either side of an explanatory gap, that huge, huge explanatory gap.’

He threw his arms apart to give Hunter some idea of just how huge this explanatory gap was, and then sank back into his creaking wicker chair, puffed out his cheeks and stared from the rosewood deck at the interlocking golden hills of Apocalypse Now, Hunter’s ranch in Big Sur, sloping steeply down to the silent Pacific. Out at sea a fog bank drifted towards the shore, swallowing the lazy glitter of the swell, but however thick the fog grew, Hunter knew that it would never reach the house, only generate a sea of hoary mist beneath his feet.

‘Looking at this view,’ said Hunter, ‘I’m having a complex experience of perceptions, reflections and memories. What I’m not experiencing is neurons firing, even though none of this could take place without firing neurons—’

‘It’s a tormenting question,’ Saul interrupted. ‘I mean, what is the matrix that transforms one into the other? I’m a materialist, don’t get me wrong—’

‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ said Hunter. ‘Maybe developing Brainwaves can help reduce your torment.’

‘Sure,’ said Saul, ‘but materialism still has a lot of explaining to do, not just about consciousness but about a ton of other things as well …’ He trailed off, overwhelmed by pleasure. ‘God, I feel so high without being wired. Can I buy some of this off you? Sorry, maybe that was inappropriate.’

‘It was,’ Hunter confirmed.

‘Are we cool?’ said Saul nervously.

‘Well, one of us is cool and the other isn’t,’ said Hunter, with a guffaw.