14
OOBE’s Birth
Since Paul made a passionate presentation to Max at the end of July 1964, he’d been on tenterhooks. The possibilities of space exploration via remote viewing overflowed his everyday thoughts, and he couldn’t concentrate on writing his book about the soul as an electromagnetic field. Ironically, maybe this electromagnetic body would allow humans to explore space.
Could he have envisioned something that would revolutionise space travel, even though it was just in its infancy? The current impetus sought to expend so much fuel and dollars, and subject the human body to such an extreme environment, that to only take the vital part of a person, their consciousness, the entire core of their sentiency seemed an obvious solution. In the future, remote viewing could scout possible worlds for exploration first, before exploring physically. The scope of it excited him, for maybe human consciousness could, indeed, know no boundaries.
One September evening, Paul listened to the radio while attempting to type out his most recent thoughts and conjectures. Bob Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’’ played in the background, and a copy of a recent physics paper sat folded up beside him on the table. In it, he’d read an interesting article about Peter Higgs, who proposed that a massive quantum particle called a boson potentially gave atoms the invisible mass that equated with all that empty space, a topic discussed in one of his early lectures.
The phone rang and Paul stopped typing. For some reason, he sensed its significance and taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone, hearing Max’s voice on the other end of the line. Greetings were brief, as he wanted to get to the point.
“I’ve reached a decision on your proposal,” Max began.
The moment of truth had arrived. Paul needed Max to gain access to remote viewers of high calibre and provide the funding.
“What you propose is radical, challenging yet progressive. It has the capacity to stretch frontiers and expand our knowledge of the cosmos, yet, the results will be difficult to prove and substantiate.”
Was this positive or negative feedback?
“It’s unlikely conventional science will ever touch this, however, as we both know, the government uses reports by remote viewers for a variety of different purposes, many of which are of interest to national security.”
Okay, it looked 50/50 now.
“I’ve decided to proceed with this project on a trial basis, which will be a year in duration.”
Paul wanted to punch the air. Although Max had only offered him a trial, it would prove whether the project had longevity or not.
“How does that appeal?” Max asked, on not receiving a verbal response.
“It sounds fantastic.”
That was an understatement.
“Of course, you’ll need a remote viewer who is capable of this kind of advanced work.”
That had been the only barrier, aside from persuading Max.
“I have someone here at The Institute who’ll be perfect for this project. She’s shown astounding potential so far and I believe if anyone can pull this off, she can. However, she does have study commitments and duties here at The Institute, so I can only lease her to you once a week at the most, hence, the twelve month long trial. Is that a reasonable acceptance of your proposal?”
It was all falling into place quite nicely.
“I’m happy with that,” Paul replied.
“Don’t forget you have my project to work on too, we need a method of protection against other remote viewers. I’m depending on you for this.”
“Don’t worry,” Paul reassured him. “When can I meet this new remote viewer?”
“I’ll send her over in a few weeks time. Her name is Tahra.”
Max hung up and Paul breathed a sigh of relief. Success! All he had to do was meet this remote viewer and see what she could do. He wondered what she was like, and why nobody had mentioned her before.
***
As Tahra stood outside Max’s office at The Institute, tumultuous feelings churned around inside her. She had to face him again, something she wished to avoid after her behaviour at the birthday meal. So far, they’d evaded each other and now that stalemate had to be addressed. She wondered what he wanted from her.
After knocking, she heard Max say ‘come in’ and she fumbled with the handle as she opened the door. Feeling awkward and humble for a change, she entered and found Max, sat at the desk with a pen in his hand. For a brief moment, she thought she saw something other than indifference on his face, but his cool demeanour soon returned. She took a deep breath and decided to hold her head high.
“You can sit down,” he said, with a vague hint of weariness in his voice.
Silence impregnated the air for a few minutes, both people in the room trying to push aside everything that had happened in the States earlier that year. Regrets weren’t expressed, remorse gestated but any kind of reconciliation was certainly not on the cards.
“There’s been an unexpected addition to the programme,” Max began. “I know you’re very busy at the moment with your study and the projects at The Institute, but there’s something I can offer you that will be an amazing opportunity, the perfect challenge for you. In fact, I believe you’re the only one who can do it.”
Tahra felt bolstered by his show of faith.
“In a few days, you’ll be dropped off at a sister facility called The Establishment, where you’ll meet a long time colleague of mine whose name is Dr. Paul Eldridge. When you convene, he’ll explain the project and what he wants from you.”
She wondered if Dr. Eldridge was the person she saw leaving Oscar and George a few months ago, the man with shoulder length, fair hair. At the time, instincts had alerted her to the possibility that this man was significant in her future. Maybe her instincts were correct. What was the project, and why could only she pull it off?
Max tapped his pen on the table, and looked as if he wanted to say something. Tahra opened her mouth, feeling like something wished to escape her lips but neither of them said a word. Max changed his mind and resumed scribbling while Tahra sighed inwardly, the stalemate would resume.
She returned to her room, realising she held onto hope of a relationship that deep down, she knew was toxic. Meanwhile, in his office, Max scribbled without focus. Although she still occupied his thoughts on a daily basis, it also occurred to him they were both poison for each other. However, should they choose further intoxication, or the path of sanity?
***
I finally started my course of study at university in the latter part of September 1964, cementing part of the agreement between Max and my father. Psychology really interests me, as I love to delve into what makes people tick. Maybe it will enable me to understand men, Max in particular.
He dropped another assignment on me, and it felt strange confronting him again. Deep down, I hoped it would be possible to resolve the issues that hung around like a stale stench, but that didn’t happen. Anyway, it turned out he enlisted me on a project that seemed tailor made for me, working alongside someone called Dr. Paul Eldridge. I believe this new project is highly significant in my life’s purpose, something I sought vociferously.
I arrived at another facility called The Establishment, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through my nervous system as Max’s Daimler pulled into the gravelled driveway. His driver directed me to Dr Eldridge’s office, although he hadn’t arrived yet. Sitting in a very comfortable armchair, I twiddled my thumbs, aware of how nervous I felt.
Pacing the room, I tried to imagine what he’d be like. Would he be the stereotypical eccentric scientist, all weird and difficult to converse with? Maybe he’d be quite human, although intelligent and professional. While waiting, I flicked through some of his books, although they were about quantum physics and religion, so may as well have been written in Chinese. Why was he taking so long?
It figured I really should make a lasting impression. Throwing caution to the wind, I sat in Dr Eldridge’s office swivel chair and tried to arrange myself in a manner that would stop him dead in his tracks. Should I look elegant and cross my legs? Should I be leaning forward on his desk, ready for action? I decided that was all too tame and put my feet up on his desk, with a book in my hand. Was this going to be too outrageous? Well, I was going to find out.
***
Paul burst through his office door at The Establishment, slightly befuddled due to running late. On entering the room, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the new remote viewer sitting in his chair. He became tongue tied, and his eyes swept her from head to feet, trying to evaluate this provocative and exotic creature who now stared at him in awe.
Finally, he spoke.
“You must be Tahra,” he said, a little unsettled.
“Yes, my name is Tahra Mamoun. I’m a remote viewer and a very good one at that.”
“I’ve never seen you at The Institute before,” he said, still studying her.
“I came to England in September 1962, to study and work at The Institute,” she explained replied, putting down the book she’d been pretending to read. When she realised she’d picked up a book on Quantum Electro-Dynamics, she looked quite embarrassed.
“Oh,” he said, “I completed some research there not long before you arrived.”
He sat down in the guest chair, their roles reversed.
“Well,” he began, “tell me about yourself.”
She altered her pose and placed her feet on the floor, arms relaxing more casually on his desk.
“Max rescued me from a tough life in Tehran, although I lived in England prior to that. I got bullied a lot as a child, which led me to discovering my abilities. Since living at The Institute, I’ve been involved with a number of remote viewing assignments that support Britain and the United States in The Cold War.”
“Well, my name’s Paul, I studied physics and Max drew me into research after he’d attended one of my lectures. Originally, I tried to measure the soul and although I never proved it conclusively, I discovered an electromagnetic field which appears to be part of being human. Psychic people appear to have a more vibrant field. At the moment, I’m trying to type it all up so I can get it published.”
They appraised each other in silence for a minute. He found her intriguing, quite mystical and noticed how fascinated she appeared to be by him.
“So,” Tahra continued, “what is this project you wish me to participate in?”
“I’ve been told you’re a particularly excellent remote viewer. Can I ask you, what’s the furthest you’ve projected your consciousness?”
She pondered the question and replied, “I’ve travelled all around the world with my consciousness.”
“Have you ever left Earth?”
She didn’t expect that question, and gave a little smile at the surprise.
“Well…I’ve never tried. I mean, it’s not that I’m not interested in what’s out there, I just…never thought of projecting my consciousness that far.”
“Out there,” Paul began to propose, “I believe there are many worlds waiting for us to explore, when we can escape the confines of Earth’s gravity.”
She seemed to have a good inkling of what the project entailed, but allowed him to continue nevertheless.
“Instead of spending millions of dollars on powerful rockets, and to avoid the necessity of spacesuits, does it not seem reasonable to use remote viewing as a method of space exploration?”
“Now that you ask that question, I think it would be very worthwhile.”
“Can you project your consciousness that far?”
Tahra considered his question carefully, leaning further forward in Paul’s chair.
“Possibly, I don’t know until I try, but I’m not afraid to try. Maybe I’ve found my purpose in life.”
She spoke with passion now, ignited by the spark of his vision.
“Would you like me to give you a little taster of my ability?” she asked.
Tahra stood up, moved closer to him and sat on the edge of the desk. He watched her intently as she closed her eyes and it seemed almost erotic as her breathing became slightly heavier. Paul watched her intently.
“Where do you live?” she said.
He gave her the address, along with some details of the location and she fell silent for a moment. As she concentrated, Paul waited with baited breath and listened as she began to report back.
“It’s a cottage,” she described, “with ivy around the front door. There are boots in the hallway…riding crops, and pictures of horses… In the sitting room I see books placed by your favourite armchair, the one on the top is by Ian Fleming. There’s a writers’ desk in the corner…and newspaper clippings strewn all over it. I see a small dining room off the lounge with rows and rows of books. The walls are red and there’s a large open fire.”
“Anything else?” he enquired.
After a short period of silence, she opened her eyes with a look of embarrassment, or was it disappointment?
“Sorry,” she said, “I…didn’t realise you had a lady friend there.”
Paul noted her expression. Did he imagine it, or did he perceive not mere embarrassment, but some kind of emotional reaction? Surely this striking girl wasn’t interested in him, was she?
“What does she look like?” Paul questioned, trying to maintain his professionalism.
“Long chestnut hair, a few freckles on her nose… She’s wearing jeans, a yellow and brown jumper, and slippers on her feet.”
Tahra remained factual, although faltered a little in her speech.
“What do you think of my talent?” she asked.
“I’m impressed,” Paul replied, feeling a surprising wave of positivity towards her. “You’ve given a really accurate description of my home and my girlfriend, Eleanor. In fact, I’d like to get started as soon as possible, say, in a few weeks?”
“I’ll have to clear it with Max, but I would like that,” she confirmed, a little disconcerted by what he’d just revealed.
Paul stood up and shook her hand, and she reciprocated with a sweet smile.
“Welcome to my new, as yet unnamed project. To the moon and beyond!”
***
I’ve found my purpose in life, I thought as Max’s Daimler pulled away from The Establishment.
Excitement filled my body from the top of my skull to the tips of my toes, and I buzzed with thoughts and visions of the project I’d been assigned. I recalled the radio programme I’d listened to as a child called ‘Journey into Space’, in which man conquered the moon. In the near future, I’d follow in their footsteps, using my remote viewing capabilities! I’d dreamt of exploring as a child, and my fantasy would actually be fulfilled.
My preconceptions of Paul had been exceeded, however. I appreciated his easy going nature, his warmth, and his intelligence. When I looked into his eyes, I saw wisdom and humanity. Where Max was materialistic, Paul was idealistic. Where Max was cool and thoughtful, Paul was courageous and passionate. Where Max was calculating and shrewd, Paul was spontaneous, or so I believed.
I think he liked me, but I don’t believe he felt attracted to me. Did this faze me? No, it excited me. He seemed down to earth enough to have sustained a stable relationship, where for some odd and undefined reason, Max hadn’t. Paul offered a safe bet, while still being warm and interesting. Max possessed power, oozing charm and sex appeal, but deep down I thought he had problems relating to women. Would I end up making a choice between two very different men? That would all depend on being able to win Paul’s heart.
***
Paul gave the project a code name ‘OOBE’, which stood for Out of Body Experiment. It entered reality on the 7th of October 1964, when he typed up the first document outlining its aims and objectives of the project and his conjecture so far on the phenomenon of remote viewing.
Tahra arrived at The Establishment a few weeks later, full of enthusiasm and curiosity. Initially, he wanted to test her aerial capabilities and had arranged some stones on a hillside into a word. Before they commenced the remote viewing experiment, he wished to take a measurement of her electromagnetic field, so he set up his Kirlian-inspired camera and asked her to take a seat.
“Okay, I just want you to relax while I record your electromagnetic field.”
She looked directly into his camera lens, totally at ease in Paul’s company. As her electromagnetic field registered through the complex series of lens and prisms he’d created, he saw what amounted to an egg-shaped halo around her body, its colours intensified in the vicinity of her head. Her multi-coloured field radiated hues of blue, purple, indigo and violet.
“It’s beautiful,” Paul commented.
“I wonder if it changes when I alter my emotions, or move my consciousness.”
With no prompt from Paul, she began to conduct her own experiment. She thought about something that made her angry or miserable, Max namely, and focused on making her field darker and redder. She gave no clues to Paul indicating the mood she attempted to muster, or the colour she aimed to produce.
“Is anything happening?” she asked him.
“Why, yes…your field is pulsing, or cycling through a range of colours…crimson, with flashes of scarlet and blue. How are you doing that?”
He’d never seen this happen before. He’d also never asked anyone to change their emotional state whilst being measured.
“I’m concentrating my feelings into short bursts,” she answered.
Paul watched a kaleidoscopic display, rather psychedelic yet infinitely beautiful. Then something truly amazing happened. Without warning, a brilliant flash of white light appeared in front of her forehead and disappeared, causing Tahra’s field to expand.
“What did you just do?” he asked her.
As she remained for a moment, he continued to view the spectacle through his camera. Finally, she responded.
“Why? What did you see?” she enquired. “I projected my consciousness.”
Paul wondered if he’d just witnessed something quite spectacular.
“I think I just saw it....”
Tahra sensed her first sense of accomplishment with him.
“And this is our first experiment,” she stated, with a burning ambition. “Just think what we can achieve together.”
Paul realised he’d found the perfect partner. She matched his curiosity and passion, plus his willingness to push the boundaries. Where had she been all his life?
“No wonder you came so highly recommended,” he said.
Tahra felt alive, awakened from a stupor of repetitive and inane experiments. She bathed in the light at the end of the tunnel, spiritual light, and she couldn’t wait to stretch herself beyond the limits.
“What’s next?” she asked, hungry for success.
She was indeed the perfect research subject.
“I have a little aerial test, got to get you flying and reporting back accurately,” he said. “You feel up to it?”
“I certainly do,” she affirmed.
“I’m going to give you a map with a marked location. There’s something in a field that I created with stones. I want you to tell me what it is.” It sounded like the experiments at The Institute. “However, I want you to focus on the journey as much as the outcome. Concentrate on the experience of travelling out of body, survey the landscape, be able to describe it and feel it.”
Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief, as for a moment, she thought it would be too identical to her current remote viewing assignments. This experiment seemed more qualitative, experiential, and ground-breaking.
“Okay,” she said, “I understand.”
In her own time, she disembodied her consciousness and instead of homing in on the target immediately, she allowed her non-physical eyes to drift. She envisioned herself as a bird, in particular an eagle, and enjoyed the feeling of travel, flying to the location on the map.
The journey took her across the Surrey countryside and she saw it all clearly, rushing beneath her ‘body’. Tahra viewed fields separated by hedges, country roads, and clusters of small towns and villages. She had a clear sense of speed and expediency but felt aware of her surroundings: the crisp autumn sunshine, the russet tones of the leaves, the rise and fall of the South Downs, and the roads winding through the greenery.
This is what it must be like to be an eagle.
I’m flying, with no breath of wind, or wings on my body.
My mind is an aeroplane, a bird, a breath of wind.
Soaking up every aspect of the beautiful landscape from her aerial view, she soon reached the coastline, where the land seemed to end abruptly in chalky cliffs, with the waves breaking below on a small, pebbly beach.
She realised she’d overshot and swung round like a bird, turning in flight and heading back inland. The undulating cliffs looked spectacular and she wished she could remain here, out of body, inhaling and exhaling every aspect of this exhilarating experience.
Heading inland, she found the field where Paul had arranged some stones. At first, she saw what appeared to be a random pattern but as she circled her consciousness overhead, she realised the stones spelt out a word. The word wasn’t clear. To pick up accurate detail she needed to narrow her centre of attention and tune out the landscape to some extent. Finally, the word came into focus.
“Cosmos,” she said, still concentrating on the stones.
Paul sat back in his chair. After running his hands through his hair, he laughed. Tahra jolted back into her body, none too pleased.
“I‘d appreciate it if you didn’t make sudden noises!”
Paul was too elated to consider his actions.
“You did it!”
Tahra’s annoyance diffused quickly, infected with his delight.
“Well, I guess I did,” she conceded. “But in future, let me ease back into my head. The sudden snap back is a bit like falling out of bed during a really good dream!”
Paul became more apologetic.
“Okay, I’ll remember that for next time.” Then he added, “I’m impressed you were able to speak while still out of body. That will prove very useful.”
“Yes, Max said this is something I need to develop.”
Tahra had proved her remote viewing capabilities. In fact, he almost felt jealous of her ability to travel like that out of body, so he asked her how it felt.
“Hmmm… liberating,” she replied, a contented smile spreading across her face.
“Ready to progress to the next step?” he prompted.
“Oh, most definitely. Most definitely indeed.”
***
Paul woke early on a crisp November morning with an intense feeling of enthusiasm. Despite the impending wintry weather, his new project made his life feel like the first buds of spring, and the thought of Tahra’s imminent arrival that day spurred him from the bedroom to the kitchen. He filled the kettle, lit the flame on the hob and switched on the radio. Herman’s Hermits sang ‘Something tells me I’m into something good’ and he let loose a chuckle.
Arriving at The Establishment bright and breezy, he set up for Tahra’s arrival and she turned up punctually, just as eager. Life at The Institute had become rather staid and although university study broke up the monotony, she preferred to be at The Establishment with Paul.
“What are we doing today?” she asked him, “Or, should I say, where are we going?”
“I’ve planned some more aerial work,” Paul replied, “but a little higher in altitude.”
She settled into the ‘hot seat’ and he encouraged her to relax. Leaning forward in his chair, he gave her clear objectives.
“Today, we go up, above the clouds, to the edge of space. I want you to survey the coastline of Italy, and describe it in avid detail.”
Instead of using map coordinates, she had to project as if she were an aeroplane taking off and climbing to cruising altitude. Her previous work at The Institute had conditioned her into a standardised method of remote viewing, and for this project she needed to break that habit.
Closing her eyes, she focused on a vertical movement of her consciousness, exploding through the crown of her head as opposed to a point between her brows. As she left her body, she felt a rush like a discharge of energy, or a prisoner being released from an eternal cage. She sensed a life without boundaries, and a lucid stillness that filled her with calm.
Tahra pushed through the clouds and towards the blue, unblemished sky of the stratosphere. They parted like mist disintegrating on a sunny day, like the driveway leading to heaven. Gravity didn’t exist, as if she’d left it battered and bruised on the floor of a physics lab.
Freedom.
Total freedom.
The sky turned electric blue, and she realised her altitude may be too high so she creased pushing her consciousness any further. As she looked below, she wanted to exclaim out loud. How could she describe this to Paul?
“This is…so beautiful, but you need a writer or a poet to do this justice. I see…the crystal clarity of the coastline, as if Allah himself is an artist. Looking around…I also see a myriad of GreekIslands, scattered throughout a turquoise sea. Up here, like this, I shouldn’t be able to breathe, yet I can, unhindered by physical limitations. I am blessed…truly blessed.”
Tahra allowed her consciousness to snap back into her body, and she opened her eyes. Paul noted the elation apparent in her eyes.
“You may not be a writer or a poet, but you described that exceptionally well.”
“Thank you for making me part of your vision,” she said, briefly overwhelmed with the experience.
Paul acknowledged her with a nod and asked, “So, do you fancy a flight to the moon?”
***
Between Project OOBE experiments, Tahra made better use of her spare time at The Institute. Instead of listening to the latest hits on Radio Caroline, she relaxed in bed and allowed her consciousness to drift skyward. Up was the only direction now. She loved the sensation of clearing the clouds, as it felt truly inspirational, very spiritual and extremely addictive. It became harder to focus on the factual, reconnaissance tasks required of her at The Institute though.
In her own experiments, she gained sufficient altitude to look down upon a whole country and marvel at its landscape: the mountains that looked like textured bumps, crisp outlines of the coast, and clusters of lights where that country sat cloaked in darkness. She discovered she could experience real time too, as the further west she journeyed, she found daylight. However, she also managed a whole circuit of the Earth almost instantaneously, if she pushed herself. Was time distorted, or did she travel as a body of light, a cosmic ray?
Tahra’s twentieth birthday arrived and for some reason, The Institute felt like a ghost town. Had Max done it on purpose, or had he simply given her birthday no thought at all? He remained elusive, which aggrieved her more, although out of sight also equalled out of mind. Tahra began to give more thought to the experiments with Paul.
On thinking of Paul, she realised he’d given her a contact number, in case she experienced a problem. She contemplated ringing him due to her loneliness, as there was nothing worse than being on your lonesome when you should be celebrating. Would he mind? Did he regard her as merely a test subject? Or did he genuinely enjoy her company?
Only one way to find out.
The phone rang several times and just as she admitted defeat, Paul answered. Fortunately, Eleanor hadn’t picked up the phone.
“Tahra?” he said. “Well, this is a surprise. How are you?”
“I’ve been practising my aerial skills,” she answered, a hint of melancholia in her voice.
Paul paused then asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m…feeling quite lonely. It’s my birthday today…”
“Oh, you should have mentioned it when we last met. How old, or should I not ask a woman that?”
“I’m twenty,” she replied, feeling a little tearful.
“Aren’t you doing anything special? A young woman shouldn’t be all alone on her birthday.”
“No, there’s no one around.”
“Hey, look, I’m not doing anything today and it’s only early afternoon. Can you get here?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, get on the train and I’ll meet you at Croydon. That okay?”
“Yes, yes,” she replied, ecstatic.
“I hope you like horse riding,” he said.
“I haven’t been on a horse for about ten years or so,” she answered, with a slight nervous laugh.
“Oh, I’ll sort you out a suitable horse. We can just take it easy.”
Tahra replaced the receiver and allowed herself to explode into a smile. There must be a God, he cared! It all seemed so natural, his invitation and the warmth of his gesture.
After a quick train ride, Paul picked her up in his car just outside the station. He drove a Triumph Spitfire, another two seated sports convertible, although he‘d purchased and fitted a hard top for the winter months.
She felt truly grateful that he’d granted her this excursion, and he appeared to appreciate her companionship. Eleanor didn’t punctuate the conversation and Tahra didn’t ask. He took her to his local stables and saddled up his own horse, then asked for one to be prepared for Tahra as well. She looked a little nervous, but he helped her onto her horse and they set off at walking pace.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“In a riding hat and jodhpurs?” he assumed. “Like a beautiful lady of the countryside.”
His answer took her by surprise and she replied, “I meant, do I look confident or awkward in the saddle?” She felt more like the latter.
Paul didn’t seem unhinged at his unexpected flattery.
“More confident than awkward,” he answered. “Shall we pick up the pace?”
They progressed to a trot and Tahra couldn’t grasp the rhythm at first, but Paul coached her through it and encouraged her to relax. After a short while, she discovered her coordination and began to enjoy the ride. They laughed and joked like old friends and didn’t discuss the experiments, instead they talked about friends at The Institute, the countryside, music, and their dreams. To talk openly with him and develop their rapport felt such a release, and the intellectual interchange not only stimulated but deepened their connection with each other.
Two dreamers with huge life expectations.
Two twin flames with vision.
If only he didn’t love Eleanor…
As she seemed confident in the saddle, Paul suggested a canter through the woods and she agreed. It felt exhilarating, like projecting her consciousness while remaining in her body. Paul’s horse shot ahead and she watched him, the experienced rider that he was, but a creature darted out of the undergrowth and startled her horse.
The next thing she knew, the world turned upside down and she hit the ground. Her exclamation of shock and pain alerted Paul and he pulled up, turned his horse and rode to the spot where she lay on the ground. Her horse was distressed but he made Tahra the priority, as she didn’t appear to be moving.
“Oh my God,” he said, turning her over, thinking he’d killed the star remote viewer.
Checking her vital signs, he breathed a sigh relief to discover she remained conscious. The hat had obviously protected her from head injury, but he checked her all over for fractures.
“Nice to receive such prompt attention,” she mused, “and to be frisked so sensually.”
Paul looked a little embarrassed but glad she didn’t complain of pain. He offered his hand and she gripped it tightly, however, she winced as he assisted her to her feet. On examination, he found her wrist to be slightly swollen, so he asked the staff at the stables to check it over. It looked like a sprain, so they bandaged it and told her to go to the hospital if it worsened.
Rather than end the day on such a note, Paul offered to take her to his local pub, where fine ales and an open fire awaited them. It made a change from the fine restaurants she’d frequented with Max, so she accepted his offer.
Heads turned as they entered the traditional country pub, for they’d never seen the likes of such an exotic looking woman in their establishment, and they were used to Paul in partnership with Eleanor. Paul shrugged off the stares and introduced her as his friend, announcing her birthday so the pub landlord granted her a free drink. She had a glass of red wine while Paul stuck with his favourite, a pint of ale. They sat near the open fire, free of riding gear.
“Well,” he began, “I hope you’ve enjoyed it, despite the fall.”
“Of course I have, despite the fall.”
Spotting a smear of mud on her face, he reached over and gently wiped it away with his fingers. Tahra looked thoughtful at his touch, and realised she genuinely liked everything about him. He had warmth and spontaneity, intelligence and humour, ambition and wisdom. His invitation had been unconditional, fuelled by a desire to alleviate her loneliness. Paul was a rare find.
“Thank you for the wonderful day,” she said. “I’ll always remember it.”
Tahra reached over and kissed him softly on the cheek, quite close to his lips. He seemed receptive, but didn’t attempt to draw her further into a more passionate kiss.
“Don’t mention it, it was my pleasure,” he said.
She had to remind herself he was already in a committed relationship, and the locals were staring enough as it was. Wishing things were different, she accepted the situation as she didn’t want to spoil a mellow evening, the companionship, and a crackling fire. At the close of the evening, she bid him farewell at the station, dismayed he’d return home to Eleanor. Why were all the finest men already taken?
***
The night before the next OOBE experiment, Tahra parted the drapes in her bedroom and gazed up at the full moon. She wondered what it would be like to view the Earth from a new vantage point, and perhaps more importantly, she wrestled with the likelihood of her success.
After arrival at The Establishment, Paul laid out some biscuits and brewed a pot of tea, eager to create a more congenial atmosphere for their excursions. After some initial light conversation, Tahra plumped for the ‘hot seat’ and geared herself up for the next adventure.
Okay moon, I’m coming.
“You ready?” Paul asked.
“I’m always ready,” she enthused.
“Well,” he began, “there’s a capsule in orbit at the moment. Do you fancy paying it a visit on route to the moon?”
“I’ll peep through the window,” she declared.
Her consciousness drifted in an instant, like going through the motions of a finely tuned musical warm up. Slicing through the clouds like Moses had parted the Red Sea, she skimmed the stratosphere with her consciousness. Tahra caught up with the capsule, feeling as if she were travelling faster than it. Revelling in her freedom from gravity and the need for oxygen, she focused and swooped round, circling the capsule. It looked so fragile, more vulnerable than her robust and unbreakable consciousness.
She couldn’t resist peeping through the window. When operating in real time, Tahra needed to create a narrow beam of concentration to observe details of things, something she’d become more adept at during her research at The Institute. The interior of the capsule came into focus and she saw one of the astronauts inside, taking measurements.
Tahra watched him, his body protected by a spacesuit and the capsule shielding him from the hostile environment of space. She pitied him and his powerlessness against the icy vacuum of space. Without warning, the astronaut’s helmeted face loomed at the window and he surveyed the Earth below, its turquoise, white, green and brown canvas painted by Mother Nature herself. However, something distracted him, drawing his attention away from the home planet.
For a moment, Tahra felt as if he were looking right at her, not through her but at her directly. That was impossible, wasn’t it? Nevertheless, in a confused state, she withdrew her consciousness.
Paul noted the puzzled expression on her face.
“Everything okay? Did you see the capsule?”
She nodded, albeit in a distracted manner.
“Yes, I saw it but the capsule saw me too.”
Paul adopted a pose of curiosity, hand rising to chin.
“You must be mistaken, consciousness simply isn’t visible.”
“No, really, the astronaut looked right at me.”
“Tahra, there’s nothing there for him to see. If consciousness were visible, remote viewers would have been spotted years ago. I can’t see how he could have sighted you.”
“I can’t explain it,” she said, “and it’s never happened before but for some reason, he did see me.”
For a moment, he digested what she’d disclosed and arrived at a decision.
“I’ll contact Max and see if we can corroborate your statement. Anyway, let’s press onto the moon. Ready?”
Tahra nodded, took a deep breath and clasped her hands lightly. Time to visit the great moon goddess, Earth’s satellite and trusty companion. With the moon in her sights, she focused on the luminescent orb and tried to snap straight to it. A thought crossed her mind: could her consciousness remain connected to her body over such a vast distance? As she attempted to push her remote viewing abilities to their limits, she became aware of something deterring her. Was it the doubts in the back of her mind, or the mind and body connection simply being over-stretched? Tahra opened her eyes.
“I failed,” she admitted, fighting the overwhelming sense of frustration she felt. “I’m sorry.”
“You can do it,” Paul urged, “try again.”
His positivity encouraged her and once more, she focused her mind through the clouds and towards the moon. It appeared larger, with visible craters and she realised she’d travelled further than any astronaut, just using her consciousness.
She saw a dry, dusty ball of rock, totally devoid of life yet amazing…amazing because it was alien to Earth. Once she’d cleared the home planet, the pull back towards her body seemed to diminish, and she started to believe that consciousness could, indeed, know no bounds.
Tahra hovered her consciousness a short distance from the moon in astronomical terms, to contemplate what she’d done, ventured where no man or woman had ever gone before. Looking back at the Earth, it looked like a technicolour beach ball, suspended peacefully in the sky.
If only humans could witness what my mind is experiencing.
Up here, there are no countries, no borders, no storms, and no wars.
If only humans understood how precious this beautiful planet is.
This detachment from the ground on which we walk removes me from everyday life.
The peace and silence is overwhelming, my dear humans, and I swear I hear a little voice trying to break through.
Oh dear Allah, I’m so far away from home…
This is what it’s like to be truly alone.
I’m scared…I’m actually frightened.
I can’t do this, I can’t leave my home.
A sense of panic overtook her and Tahra found herself yanked back into her body. When she opened her eyes, she found Paul watching her intently.
“I did it,” she whispered, eyes feeling wet with tears. “I almost touched the moon.”
For some reason, Paul wanted to share her emotional reaction to the experience. Something amazing was happening…they were destroying frontiers, all due to a project he’d believed in and initiated. However, it would have been nothing without Tahra. She was an amazing woman.
After wiping the moisture from her eyes, she enquired, “Where do we go next?”
Paul reclined in his chair, feeling his vision take shape.
“We start to check out our space neighbours.”
Tahra took a deep breath, still aware of her profound experience in space.
“For you, anything.”
He reached over and kissed her on the forehead.
“What would I do without you?” he wondered aloud.
***
Later that night, after Tahra had returned to The Institute, Paul rang Max. He seemed delighted to receive an update concerning this new venture.
“You have results so soon? Or do you just like the sound of my voice?”
“I know she’s good, but not that good.”
Max seemed amused, in a good mood.
“How’s it working out with her anyway?”
Paul considered the answer then replied, “Well, she’s not shy is she?”
To Paul’s surprise, Max fell strangely silent on the other end of the line.
“Tahra is confident of her abilities,” he responded after a pause.
“Certainly,” Paul agreed, “she’s also positive someone saw her while in an out of body state.”
Again Max paused. Paul wasn’t sure if he disbelieved her statement, or whether he was worrying about the ramifications.
“That’s impossible,” Max replied.
“Well, she’s adamant. She doesn’t understand it herself but she claims an astronaut saw her through the window of his capsule.”
“This is certainly an unforeseen development, isn’t it?”
“It occurred to me that you have a lot of contacts in various research departments. Is there any way you can verify or counter her claim? Identify any reported anomalies from the flight?”
“Yes, I can do that. I’d like an answer too.”
“Thanks, just let me know when you hear something.”
“I will. Oh,” Max added as an afterthought, “I’m having a party for New Year, a masquerade ball. You’re invited.”
Paul expressed his reticence.
“I’m strictly faithful to Eleanor, I don’t want to get involved in…”
“It’s just a fancy dress party. I can suggest a good costume shop for nightly hire. You can bring Eleanor.”
“I will,” Paul said. However, he paused and made a further request. “Would you allow Tahra to go too?”
Max replied after another period of silence.
“Yes, I don’t see why not.”
“Great. See you New Year’s Eve.”
After putting the phone down, it occurred to Paul that he’d just invited the two central women in his life to the same party. Why had he done that? In the end he shrugged. Tahra had the right to party, and she couldn’t miss out on the celebrations. What was the problem?
***
New Year’s Eve arrived, and Tahra had the jitters as she changed into her ball gown, a cream and gold dress that had a tight bodice and full skirt, framed with lace. It pushed her breasts upward and flattered her milk chocolate skin. A gold mask added the final touch, almost Egyptian in its design, and she viewed her reflection in the mirror.
It occurred to her that she’d be attending a party with the two central men in her life, one she still resented although he provided a magnetic allure, and the other who she admired and respected. Would this present a precarious situation tonight?
Max’s Daimler and driver dropped her off at his coach house, and she found it difficult to exit the vehicle with such an enormous costume, but managed to push the hooped part of the skirt through the door of the car.
For a long moment, she stared at the exterior of the house: its general size, the pretty symmetry of it, and the large garage. Approaching the imposing, oak front door, she heard the guests and music already.
A door attendant greeted her, she gave her name and he stepped aside to allow her entry. Tahra received her first view of Max’s home. It wasn’t as ostentatious as she’d pictured it, in fact, it seemed quite traditional with oak furniture and antique pictures on the walls. So this could have been her home too if they’d married as planned. She felt a tinge of regret, but a relationship revolved around more than just luxurious surroundings.
She wandered into the living room through the large archway. The sight of numerous unrecognisable people confronted her, wearing an array of flamboyant costumes, finery, and elegant masks. It felt like stepping back in time to the French courts or Venetian balls of the 16th century. Some people had masks with towering headdresses, comprised of feathers and glitters, which made her own costume pale in comparison. One man wore a jester’s outfit, and proceeded to provide the comedic entertainment. She heard boisterous laughter over the medieval themed music, and watched the guests consume copious amounts of champagne.
However, Tahra couldn’t mistake Max. Resplendent in a green brocade costume, he wore a dragon’s mask and stopped his conversation briefly when he noticed her. She felt a sensation in her stomach like being disembowelled with a medieval implement of torture. All that hurt, all that yearning, and the image of him servicing that woman from behind imprinted onto her memory… Tahra turned away to seek Paul.
After a brief meander, she located him, engaged in conversation with some anonymous male. Paul wore red brocade, complete with the mask of a lizard or salamander. When he spotted Tahra, he beckoned her over and introduced her to his associate.
“Ralph, this is Tahra, a truly gifted friend.”
She almost winced as he said ‘friend’, although he placed no specific emphasis on it. After some polite conversation, he split off to accompany Eleanor for a while, and Tahra glanced over in their direction. A pang of jealousy washed over her and she tried to swallow it the best she could, hoping no one witnessed her staring.
Not wishing to appear the shy wallflower, Tahra circulated amongst these strangers, asking men to dance with her. Throughout the evening, she became aware of Max watching her discreetly from behind his dragon mask and she met his gaze, disturbed to find her heart skipped a beat.
Eventually, she found herself at a loss, feeling awkward due to standing alone. Max seized the opportunity, sidling up to her and placing an arm firmly around her waist.
“I’ve been waiting to dance with you all night,” he said.
She lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze, although didn’t refuse the company. They began to dance, and she found it strange to touch him once more.
“How’s my star remote viewer?” he asked. “You’ve been working on the OOBE project for a few months now. How are things progressing?”
“I’ve seen Italy from orbit, and the Earth from the shadow of the moon,” she responded, deciding to accept his attempts to befriend her again. We’re producing some pretty ground breaking results.”
“You mean, you’re producing some pretty ground breaking results. Make no bones about it, there’d be no project without you.”
Tahra blushed at his admiration.
“There’d also be no project without Paul’s initial vision,” she countered.
“Don’t denigrate yourself,” Max pointed out. “I know what you’re capable of. You get most of the work requests and actually have a waiting list. Don’t question your potential.”
“I appreciate your faith in me.”
He drew her a little closer, and she felt his grip around her waist tighten. She became aware of the alcohol on his breath, maybe the reason he’d plucked up the courage to face her.
“You believe in this project, don’t you?” she asked.
Max began to steer her towards the periphery of the crowd, which enabled them to hear each other easier.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know there’s more to life than this…material world in which we dwell. I’ve personally experienced an event…” he paused here and checked himself. “I see miracles all the time, as I’m surrounded by unimaginable talent on a daily basis, but you’re the star here, by a long shot. You’re truly unique.”
Tahra found it difficult to know how to respond to his compliments, and smiled awkwardly.
“Allah must have brought me into the world for this reason.”
“We all have a purpose, a secret vision,” he commented. “You seem to be working productively with Paul. It’s a coincidence, my two outstanding talents working on the same project…. “
She wondered whether he was fishing for information about a possible relationship with Paul, but then she told herself that was just paranoia. How could Max know of her intentions? However, she preferred to keep those a secret.
“Although I’m not a scientist, Tahra, my interests do lie in furthering understanding and breaking boundaries. However, unlike a scientist, I don’t believe that everything must be measured. I’m aware that to really prove something, some degree of measurement is required, but that should never obstruct the most fundamental cosmic truths, especially as amazing qualitative experiences can leave such a deep impression on our consciousness.”
She briefly stopped dancing, convinced that something pivotal had happened to Max that changed his whole perception of the world.
“You’ve had a spiritual experience,” she stated, longing to know more about it.
A strange expression came over Max’s face, as if he were remembering something that stimulated a yearning, a craving for that experience to happen again.
“Please,” Tahra continued, “tell me.”
He opened his mouth but no words flowed, then finally he said, “It’s in the past, there’s no point in discussing it.”
Tahra realised he’d never share the most significant experience of his life with her. Would he, in fact, share it with anyone? It frustrated her, as it probably held the key to everything.
“Your experience is the inspiration for The Establishment and The Institute,” she said, with certainty.
Her shrewd observation didn’t surprise him, and he removed his arm from around her waist. Taking her firmly by the hand, he led her to the hallway and placed a coat around her shoulders.
“Come,” he said.
Max took her outside into the garden and they began to walk together, away from the maddening crowd. She wondered why he’d removed her from the congregation, although she valued the opportunity to clear the air, despite her deep seated anger towards him. Maybe he’d reveal something, apologise for his despicable behaviour…
After a short silence, he picked up the thread of the conversation.
“I want to understand the secrets of the cosmos more than anyone, but I have my life as a businessman, which is a necessity. None of this,” he gestured to his estate, “would be here if it weren’t for that fact. Some things are a means to an end, things…I’m not proud of.”
Would he finally share his secrets with her?
“What things are you not proud of?” she asked.
At that point, he looked at her with a fleeting expression of terror.
“Things you should not concern yourself with,” he said, in a direct albeit not rude manner.
Tahra sighed, wishing this didn’t feel so much like fighting a losing battle.
“I’m just trying to protect you,” he responded.
“Protect me from what? I want to understand you,” she pushed.
Max stopped and now he began to look frustrated.
“Are you sure you want to understand me? Would you like what you found? Why can’t you be content with what you can see?”
Tahra looked at him intently.
“Because what I can see runs deep, I can see into the heart of a person and if I perceive darkness in a man’s soul, then I need to understand it before I can accept it. I need to find forgiveness.”
He exhaled with exasperation, and reached out with his fingers to touch her cheek.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked him.
The fear became apparent behind the mask, his plan beginning to fall apart.
“Why did you bring me out here?” she asked.
“To resurrect what we had,” he answered, moving closer to her. “To offer to share with you what I have in this world.” He looked for her response, although her expression exposed little of the nature of her thoughts. “This home…it could all be yours too,” he continued, “you’d never want for anything. I’m a rich man, but I’m also a rich, single man. Tonight has made me realise that I need you in my life again. Do you need me in your life again?”
Behind her gold mask, Tahra closed her eyes, aware of the residual attraction she’d been repressing. True, he had a lot to offer, but would it be a terrible mistake? Did she trust him?
He took advantage of her hesitation and moved in to kiss her. She reciprocated without persuasion and felt her body respond more intensely than before, like a drug addict succumbing to their worst vice. However, despite what her most primitive emotions told her, the image of Max servicing the woman from behind reared its ugly head. She couldn’t forget…she couldn’t forgive. This wasn’t a kiss to resurrect a relationship, it was a goodbye kiss.
Withdrawing his lips from hers, he looked for a reaction.
“So, what is it to be?”
The words of resentment, disgust and heartbreak jammed in her throat, and because she didn’t immediately accept his offer, Max began to feel frustrated. After a long silence, Tahra took a deep breath.
“Love cannot be bought, it has to be earned. You speak as if nothing terrible ever happened between us.”
Max’s stance altered to one that seemed more belligerent.
“Any other woman would have married me long ago,” he pointed out, clearly losing his patience.
Tahra narrowed her eyes.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not any woman.”
Max found it hard to remain tolerant.
“What more do you want, Tahra?” he asked, brow furrowing, words expressed with more vehemence.
“I want a man who respects me, who doesn’t hide things, who…doesn’t think with his penis! I want a man who isn’t afraid to show who he really is, who admits when he’s wrong, who…”
She choked back the tears, and began to move away from him.
“I…” he began, although didn’t continue.
Tahra lifted the skirt of her dress and strode away, humiliated by the tears that stung her eyes.
How dare he insult her by expecting her to drop everything and fall at his feet because he had riches!
How dare he gloss over what he’d done!
How dare he express indignation at her reaction when his own sordid deeds had broken her heart!
She stormed up the path, fighting back the heaving sobs that threatened to let all the hurt spill out. Passing a stone statue of a crouching gargoyle, she glared at it and without thinking, she pushed it hard and it fell over.
A minute later, she found herself amongst the congregation again, the warmth air hitting her skin after the interlude outside. She stood still, trying to regain her composure and in her bewilderment, someone came to the rescue.
“I’m sorry, I’ve barely paid you attention all night,” Paul said.
Tahra released all her hurt and broke into a relieved smile.
“It’s…okay.”
She hoped he didn’t notice how her voice faltered. Because she didn’t want to draw attention to her emotionally charged state, she made a decision.
“Dance with me,” she said.
Tahra steered him to a space, and he took up a stance neither too intimate nor too aloof. Glancing over, she noticed Max had re-entered the room and he stood like a deer caught in car headlights. Tahra shot him a look that projected daggers, and turned her attention back to Paul, trying to quell the internal conflict that raged within her.
As they danced and made polite conversation, it occurred to Tahra what she truly wanted in life. Two diametrically opposed men had entered her life, one an angel and one a demon. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of Paul holding her, and soaked up his warmth, wisdom, and kindness. After that brief moment of revelation, she opened her eyes and made a resolution. She had something important to tell Paul.
“Can I speak to you about something?” she said.
He stopped dancing, a little concerned and replied, “Of course, is there a problem with the project?”
Tahra took his hand and led him through the house, checking that Max hadn’t noticed. Thankfully, he’d become engrossed in conversation with someone in a purple tailcoat. She and Paul wandered onto the patio area at the back of the house and sat on a wall. Tahra removed her mask and without thinking, Paul did the same.
“What did you want to speak to me about?” he asked her.
She didn’t answer straightaway, and took a deep breath.
“Well, kind of,” she began. “It’s just that…”
Oh, what the hell…
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she said.
Paul didn’t respond. Rather than dismiss her declaration, he actually seemed to be genuinely touched by her words, as opposed to simply being flattered. She looked at him in expectation, but he didn’t know what to say.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
Paul opened his mouth to speak, but still nothing issued from his lips.
“I can’t pretend I don’t,” she added. “Please tell me you feel the same.”
Finally, he responded, still fighting to express what he truly felt.
“Tahra, I’m in a relationship with Eleanor, a happy one.”
She felt her heart sink at his response.
“So, you’re happy with her?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Do you love her?” she pressed.
The question caught him unawares, and he appeared to swallow hard.
“Do you love her?” Tahra repeated.
“What do you think?” he asked her, still unable to answer the question.
“I think that you’re comfortable with her and you like her company, but you don’t love her.”
Paul only responded with silence, as if someone wonderful had just unexpectedly punched him. Tahra noted her words had found the target and waited for his response. Unseen by both of them, Eleanor moved away from the doorway to the patio, shaken. Reaction hidden behind her mask, she abruptly left and returned to the dining room. Neither Paul nor Tahra noticed her.
“Tahra,” Paul said, “I can’t get involved with you, I can’t. We need to maintain a friendly but professional relationship. Besides, I’m twice your age. Wouldn’t you rather find a nice guy your own age?”
For the second time that night, she felt a sense of sheer and utter frustration.
“I’m sorry I said anything,” she said.
Tahra fled the scene, face flushing with humiliation and in a dazed state, she located Max’s driver.
“Please, take me back to The Institute.”
He relented and Tahra grabbed her coat, following the driver to the Daimler. From behind his mask, Max watched her depart, noting her clearly emotional state. Bitterly, he downed the remainder of his champagne and returned to the celebrations.
Meanwhile, in the Daimler, Tahra stared out of the window, allowing the tears to flow.
What a great start to the New Year.
Max had fired her anger, and Paul had disappointed her, albeit for sound moral reasons. However, she couldn’t deny her affection for Paul. She hoped one day, the tide would turn in her favour. However, as she watched the streets of London draw into view once more, she made a determined resolution.
Why wait for the tide to turn in her favour?
Why not command the tide, so it turned at her will?
Reflecting on her ability to move the emotions of others, Tahra decided to use her God given talents to attract what she needed in life. She’d win Paul’s heart, no matter.
***
A week into the New Year, Paul sat at his desk, perusing his NASA clippings with an absent mind. The excitement of Project OOBE seemed to pull everything into its gravity, awakening and challenging other facets of his life. Tahra’s admonition that night had left him unsettled.
Despite being in a settled relationship with Eleanor, that declaration of love had meant something to him. He’d developed a reverence and respect for Tahra through working alongside her, and he cared about her wellbeing. However, his response had been the correct one. He just couldn’t get romantically involved with her, even if he were single. She was such a young girl, and it would feel like taking advantage, exploiting her naivety. Perhaps, due to her age, this crush would eventually pass and they wouldn’t have to address the matter again.
No matter, Eleanor’s behaviour towards him had subtly altered.
The phone rang and Paul valued its intrusion into his poor concentration. On answering, he heard Max’s voice on the other end of the line and they went through the customary greetings. Max queried the OOBE project’s progress.
“Well, we haven’t found life on other planets yet,” Paul joked.
He heard a soft chuckle escape Max’s lips.
“It’s not the reason for my call,” Max explained. “I’ve just received some feedback from one of my contacts about that encounter with the orbital capsule.”
Paul had almost forgotten about that.
“It seems there may be something in Tahra’s belief that someone in the capsule saw her,” Max continued. “It’s in a top secret report, so we’ll never see it become official, but the astronaut claims to have seen an orb of light outside the capsule. It’s being regarded as a UFO encounter.”
After hanging up the phone, the significance of that statement hit Paul. Tahra’s consciousness had manifested in the physical realm, taking the form of light. That would mean consciousness itself could take the form of photons, and if that were the case, it had the potential to travel at the speed of light.
Travelling to the moon became just one mere step in the evolution of Project OOBE, for if consciousness were light, they really could be heading for the stars.