“Exactly. But without a theory of consciousness we can’t even decide what to ethically eat. Barbarians at the gate.”

“That’s why I stick to vegetarian. Playing it safe.”

“Plants can form associative memories.” He points at her rolls in a mimicry of her. “And they can communicate with each other. How sure are you? Even bacteria colonies trade electric signals.”

“Alright, wise guy,” Carmen says, laughing as she chews. When she finishes—“So anyways how close were you to completion of your PhD when you left?”

“Extremely close. But I’d rather be a lens grinder, and confront real problems, than sit pompously and comfortably among fools and partisans.”

“Your problem is academia, or the way that it’s run, or what? I mean, I have my days, believe me.”

“Fuck the publication-and-grant game most of these people are playing. All that shit is just repetition, just banquet and vomitorium all at the same time. All minor ideas, the majority of them wrong. What I want is a theory of consciousness. That’s it. And after I get it, I’m done. That’s enough for a lifetime. I could live in peace.”

“So you want to be a scientific one-hit wonder. You’d really just publish and . . . leave it?”

“Testing it can be someone else’s job. We need firm theoretical foundations to start it off, and there’s only a handful of people in the world doing that seriously.”

“And you’re one of them.”

Kierk coughs, and Carmen notices he’s already wolfed down half his sushi. “Honestly, yes,” he says, finishing his bite.

“See, I don’t think it’ll even be in my lifetime. If it is, I suspect it won’t come from anyone I’ve ever heard of.”

“If it is in our lifetimes it won’t be anyone we’ve heard of yet because of Occam’s broom.”

“Not the Occam’s household item I am familiar with.”

“It’s when smart people unconsciously sweep inconvenient facts under the rug to support their own pet theories. That’s why advances are usually made by the young. Not because they’re more intellectually agile but because they have less accumulated self-deception.”

Carmen realizes that she is grinning at Kierk. Talking to him feels novel, refreshing, weird.

“Well, whoever makes noticeable progress goes down in history as the next Einstein. Is that what you want?” Carmen had put too much wasabi on her sushi and her eyes begin to water so she dabs at them with her napkin.

“I don’t know. I want that insight, you know? I mean, if I had some inkling, something to go on, some idea for which I could live and die.”

“But by working with Moretti you’ve already contributed. What was that like, anyways? Alex was telling me you basically disproved the very thing you were working on. He must have been so interesting to have as your mentor.”