The Blueprint Read Online Free PDF Page B

glass doors. Not having any beliefs of his own
allows Charlie to pick and choose where he finds it convenient to
agree with Freddy and where he doesn’t.
     
    ‘What are you
doing?’ I ask him. He pushed forward in the queue and got his
beverage before I did, and, true to form, went upstairs to look for
a seat without hanging around for me afterward. I eventually
followed, hot chocolate in hand, and found him hidden over in the
corner. He’s not drinking his coffee; instead he’s got the cup on
the table in front of him and he’s sitting, motionless, staring at
it. Apparently he hasn’t heard my question.
    I pull out the
chair opposite and ease down onto it. Charlie doesn’t look up. He
hasn’t moved since I came up here, actually.
    ‘Are you
having a stroke?’ I ask. ‘And, if so, can I have your coffee?’
    He still
doesn’t react, so I reach forward to grab his mug.
    ‘No, no, wait.
I think I’ve almost done it,’ he murmurs.
    ‘Done
what?’
    ‘I’m trying to
turn my coffee into wine.’
    ‘We’ve been
through this before, Charlie. You’re not Jesus. He was less of an
arsehole than you are.’
    ‘I don’t think
I’m Jesus. Well, not when I’m sober, anyway. I don’t need God to do
this; I’ve got it all worked out.’
    ‘You have been a fountain of great ideas lately, I’ll give you
that.’
    He flicks his
eyes up and shoots me his idea gaze.
    ‘Do you
believe in free will?’
    ‘Can’t we just
we just have a normal conversation for once?’
    Charlie cranes
his neck around and looks out of the window.
    ‘Nice weather
we’re having. Do you believe in free will?’
    I lean back
and try to give an exasperated sigh, but it comes out as a laugh
instead.
    ‘Yes, Charlie,
like everyone else on the planet, I believe in free will.’
    ‘Me too. See?
Like this, me and you.’ He waggles his finger in the space
between our foreheads. ‘Now, do you believe that human beings are
built out of the same atoms as everything else?’
    ‘Ye-’
    I haven’t even
finished the syllable when he slams his fist against the table and
exclaims:
    ‘Me too ! And, last of all, do you think that atoms have free
will? Of course you don’t!’
    He puts his
chin on his hand and stares at me in the same way he was staring at
his cup of coffee.
    ‘You figured
out the implication yet?’
    I stay silent,
because I know he’s planning on answering his own question.
    ‘If we’re
built out of brainless, helpless matter, then one of two things
must be true. Either we’re the same as all the dead, stupid atoms
in my coffee, being kicked towards the heat death of the universe
by the laws of physics, or free will exists, and the laws of
physics are my bitch. If it’s the second one then I should be able
to turn this coffee into wine, or at the very least into some
questionable vodka.’
    Finally, he
picks up his cup and takes a sip.
    ‘Taste like
alcohol?’ I ask.
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘Must be the
first one, then.’
    ‘Looks that
way. Hey, do you reckon pleading determinism will hold up in
court?’
    ‘When you’re
caught doing what?’
    ‘This bank
heist, you idiot.’ He doesn’t hold back on the decibels as he says
it. My eyes dart involuntarily from side to side.
    ‘If you could,
like, not announce that in public, that would be great,’ I
mutter.
    ‘If you’re
this jittery about even talking about it, what’re you gonna be like
when we’re doing it?’ he laughs. I’m slightly concerned, from the
tone of his voice, that he’s no longer residing in the world of
fantasy, that he’s really expecting me to join him in an even lower
budget remake of Reservoir Dogs . Beware the dreamers of the
day, and all that.
    ‘Isn’t the
point of planning a heist that you don’t get caught?’ I contend.
‘It tends to make the police’s job a lot easier when their suspect
goes around telling everyone within ten miles what crimes he’s
planning on committing.’
    ‘Never
underestimate just how little of a fuck the