Seven Point Eight The First Chronicle

17

The First Time

The word made little sense to Tahra, perhaps it could even be some ancient cosmic language and as Paul wasn’t much of a linguist, she decided to investigate in case it bore some similarities to an Earth based language. When Tahra returned to The Institute, she perused a few foreign language dictionaries, and eventually found the etymology and meaning of the word. It was actually Latin and meant ‘origin’ or ‘seed’, an appropriate word as they were embarking on a new adventure.

“Is that what you mean, dear Jove, this is the beginning of something? The beginning of what?”

A beginning implied a middle and an end, like a story. To what end did they aspire to? More importantly, why had Jupiter chosen a Latin word?

She wrote the key word ‘satus’ in big letters on a piece of paper and scribbled the translations around it, then stuck it to the mirror with tape. Although its real significance eluded her at that moment, it would all make sense eventually. Nothing remained a mystery forever.

There came a point in May of 1965 where Tahra reached the edge of the solar system. She’d visited Uranus, an electric blue, luminous giant which spun on its side, just to rebel against the rest of the solar system. Who said a planet had to revolve upright? Rules were for squares. She’d graced the giant Neptune with her presence, a planet as blue as the sea, complete with a dark spot and skittish white clouds. It had a mystical energy, although wanted to veil its message just to confuse everyone. Finally, she’d perused tiny Pluto, a rocky, icy and brown body accompanied by its twin. On the periphery of the solar system, it felt like the gate to the Underworld, possibly representing what lay beyond the orbits of the planets.

The trips had been documented through her verbal accounts, recorded by Paul, who’d passed these notes to an artist. Therefore, a selection of sketches accompanied the journal, awaiting verification from the future probes of NASA and the USSR. Paul knew that repeat journeys should be made to validate the previous descriptions and show some sort of reliability, yet he felt compelled to find some inhabited world to explore. The final planet, Pluto, had served as an anti-climax to the tour of the solar system.

He sat in his study, reflecting on what had been achieved so far and where he could possibly take the project from this point onward. Idly, he listened to the radio and after reading through his notes, he closed his journal, feeling dissatisfied. Despite the journeys he’d documented, he didn’t feel a sense of achievement, he felt empty. After deliberating, Paul decided to share his desires with Tahra on the phone. She sounded delighted to hear from him, but wondered why he’d called out of the blue.

“Is everything all right?” she asked him.

“No disasters,” he said, with a flat tone of voice.

“Well, what do you want to talk to me about?” she asked, with a note of hope.

He paused, unsure how to begin.

“Tahra, do you think that the OOBE project isn’t… fulfilling its potential?”

“Are you not happy with my work?” she replied, genuine concern underlying her question.

“Oh, yes of course, that’s not the problem,” he answered quickly. “No, you’re wonderful, absolutely wonderful.”

“Then you’re not satisfied with the project itself,” she concluded.

“I’m not,” he admitted. “I need more, I need…other worlds with alien beings, an undiscovered civilisation…contact with some other race in the cosmos, something outstanding.”

She fell silent for a long moment then spoke, quite humbly.

“I don’t know if I’m powerful enough.”

Paul sighed, as if in disbelief.

“You’ve already exceeded my expectations. This project would be nothing without you, and I’m indebted to you for taking it so far already. It’s just me, I never feel…satisfied. I don’t know if you understand where I’m coming from.”

Tahra sighed and answered, “You’ve spoken the thoughts that have rattled around in my brain for most of my life. There is always more, and I know Allah, or God put me here on Earth to accomplish something important. Maybe we’re both meant to accomplish that…together.”

A huge surge of relief welled up inside him.

“This is the most important project I’ve ever been involved with, well, the most meaningful one to me anyway. I’m honoured that you’ve shared this journey with me and given it meaning. In fact, you have given my life meaning. We did this together.”

“You know I’d do anything to make this project successful,” she said, with both affection and ambition.

Paul valued her commitment. God had indeed deposited great fortune into his lap.

“I take it you’re willing to push the boundaries further.”

“I want to know what’s out there as much as you do. I remember as a child listening to ‘Journey into Space’ on the radio, wishing I could have adventures on the Moon, and no one took me seriously when I wanted to be an astronaut. Now I can realise those aspirations.”

“Then we’ll take this a stage further. I couldn’t do this without your encouragement… I couldn’t do this without you.”

“And you have given my life meaning too,” she told him. “You believe in me, and push me to develop my capabilities to their full potential.”

“I’ll see you on the twenty-first then,” he said. “I can’t wait.”

“Looking forward to it,” she reassured him.

Paul hung up and allowed his fingers to linger on the receiver, as if maintaining that thread of connection with Tahra. Was striving for the stars a dream that could be realised? How far could Tahra really venture, and what would they find out there? Deep down, he’d wanted this all along, and it had been a huge release to share that desire with her. In addition to being the instrument of exploration, she offered him true friendship, and he valued her unshakeable belief in the project. If only she believed in her own abilities the way he did, those unique gifts, like a blessing from the gods themselves. Had she found her true purpose in life?

While Paul remained lost in thought, Eleanor moved away from the door to his study at home. She felt sick to her stomach, but she’d known the truth all along, Paul had feelings for someone else. The way he spoke to the person on the other end of the line implied the sort of affection normally only expressed to a love interest. She wondered if it was the young woman he spoke to at the New Year party, as ever since then, Paul had become emotionally distant. Their relationship scarcely involved any interaction now, and quite a few months had passed since he’d shown any interest in sex. This OOBE project he’d mentioned in passing consumed his time and his passion, and Eleanor knew she could never compete with this, or share this with him. Obviously, the other person at the end of the line could. Eleanor knew what to do now.

In the background, ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling’ drifted over the airwaves, unnoticed by Paul, but Eleanor didn’t miss its significance.

***

The study door remained open, as Paul became engrossed in star charts. Potential destinations filled his mind, and there were a number of stars relatively close by in astronomical terms. For example, Alpha Centauri lay only four light years away, and Sirius neighboured their solar system too. It occurred to him that even light took several years to reach them, but consciousness appeared to possess a quality that superseded light, as Tahra seemed to travel almost instantaneously to the planets she’d recently visited. An explanation of this expediency eluded him at the moment, but the mechanics of it were not a matter of urgency, only the practicalities.

At 3:00am, he sat in his armchair, chin nodded to his chest and star maps on his lap. The lamp still cast its low level illumination into the room, and the radio had stopped broadcasting for the night. He never noticed the activity going on upstairs, and didn’t wake until late in the morning. By the time he opened his eyes, the sun had already risen, although the heavy curtains blotted out the full intensity of its rays. However, the sound of the door closing woke him. A strange silence filled the house and he sat for several minutes before moving the map, with the intention of making a cup of tea.

As he walked through the sitting room, he realised something seemed awry. Paul wandered into the kitchen and proceeded up the stairs. Entering the bedroom, he was surprised, albeit not disappointed to see Eleanor absent from the bed. However, she wasn’t in the bathroom either. None of her clothes were draped over the back of the chair, and she’d emptied the wardrobe of her things.

Paul sat on the bed, trying to absorb what had happened. He admitted he’d practically ignored her since New Year. If anything, he almost felt relieved she’d gone. However, now he had no reason to turn down Tahra’s amorous requests, and he was free to choose with no restrictions. If he revealed Eleanor had left him, she’d make her move and he’d succumb. They had to keep their relationship professional, in line with researcher and subject ethics. Paul decided to keep his new status quiet, for his and her sake.

***

Tahra arrived on the 21st of May, buzzing with nervous energy. Synonymous with the new impetus the project had taken, Paul had also adopted a new look. He asked her opinion on the sideburns he’d begun to cultivate and the length of his hair, which started to curl past the collar of his shirt. She reassured him it was acceptably fashionable, although she didn’t add ‘for his age’.

They exchanged glances, communicating a ‘we’re about to do something really important here’ with their eyes. Paul sensed her apprehension, and she looked less confident than usual.

Taking the hot seat now became taking a step into the unknown. Paul showed her the star map and pinpointed the location of Sirius, not the nearest star to Earth, but certainly the brightest. It had connections to ancient Egypt and out of the many potential stars, he deemed it the most worthy of a visit. On carrying out a little research on the importance of Sirius, he found that the first night it became visible in the sky, or its rising, marked the New Year which coincided with the flooding of the Nile. Therefore, its marking of a new cycle seemed highly appropriate in terms of the next step taken in the OOBE project.

Sensing her trepidation and without thinking, Paul gave her hand a squeeze and she reciprocated with a nervous smile. Briefly, she detected a subtle change in the way he looked at her, but now wasn’t the time to ponder on its significance. She simply studied the star map, pictured the desired location in her mind, and allowed her consciousness to work its magic.

The initial process flowed as smoothly as normal. Tahra hovered above the Earth instantaneously, but the objective of the mission lay so far away she found it difficult to visualise Sirius. Usually, she could picture the terminus of the journey and ‘snap’ to it with relative ease, but for some reason, it didn’t happen this time. Previously, she’d conquered her doubts and used pure determination, however, the sheer distance made the target more elusive.

“I just can’t do it. I’m not powerful enough, and no remote viewer has ever done this before,” she said, exasperated.

“It’s all a matter of self belief,” he reassured. “Remember, you’ve had doubts like this previously, and you pushed beyond your fears.”

Nodding and taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and he focused intensely, pinpointing the target from the stellar background. All she thought about was the distance, and she questioned the ability of her consciousness to detach so far from her body. She felt too weak psychically, her concerns regarding her abilities not unfounded.

“I don’t have a clear enough frame of reference,” she explained. “Maybe we were never meant to travel so far out of body.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Paul insisted. “What difference does it make if your target is five hundred million miles away, or eight light years? To your consciousness, there is no more of a separation.”

“I’d have to train my mind on a daily basis for months, possibly even years,” she complained, in resignation.

“Don’t give up on me,” he said. “I know you can do this.”

“Everyone has their limits, even me.”

He sighed, frustrated she’d had a crisis of confidence.

“I can’t force you…maybe we could try another day.”

“I don’t want to spend months training the hard way. You’re a scientist, you build machines.” She pointed to the camera he’d used to observe electromagnetic fields. “Create something that will help me and speed up the process.”

He ran his hands through his hair, mentally masticating what she’d just suggested. Could he build a machine to push Tahra’s consciousness to the stars?

“It’s certainly something I could think about.”

It was definitely something he should think about.

“Fantastic! Call me when you’ve got an idea, then we can make progress.”

Paul surrendered the day to move onto a bigger concept, although he perceived no loss. She demonstrated her enthusiasm for moving the boundaries and extending out of the comfort zone. Like Tahra, he’d do whatever necessary to make his project a success, and after she’d left, he dragged all his previous research from the filing cabinets of his office.

***

The new direction Tahra had instigated for the OOBE project definitely gave me something to think about. While I made no promises to her that I’d be able to construct something, I had a few ideas worth exploring, based on my research from the fifties conducted at The Establishment. In fact, it tied in to the project Max had assigned me concerning blocking remote viewing, the project that I’d stalled in favour of OOBE, one which Max would soon expect a progress report.

My previous work had revolved around the effects of electromagnetic fields on people, both targeting their physiology and mental state. I’d attempt to adapt the methodology and equipment to affect the electromagnetic field of Tahra’s body. While she’d already demonstrated the strength of her abilities and electromagnetic field, I wanted to use technology to assist the projection of her consciousness.

For the more advanced task of stellar travel, I’d amplify this field to give her a boost. Resonant frequency looked like another aspect of my research that was worth investigation. During my prior assignments here at The Establishment, I’d highlighted some destructive frequencies with mild to powerful effects upon the physiology of people. There had to be a frequency which would enhance the out of body experience.

Consequently, there also had to be a frequency that would disrupt the electromagnetic field and hinder remote viewing. I banked on finding both. I didn’t want to risk permanently inhibiting Tahra’s capabilities, but it was a double edged sword so I’d need to consider other test subjects for this.

By early June, I’d played around with the equipment and became ready to start testing a few resonant frequencies on Tahra. I knew which ones were harmful to the body, physically and mentally, so had already gone through the process of elimination.

On the 3rd of June, however, something strange and quite surreal transpired. I sat in my office at The Establishment that evening, reviewing the old research data. A small black and white television flickered in the background, and the evening news came on. One particular news item made me smile. American astronaut, Ed White, had performed a space walk, floating free of his capsule, Gemini IV, for twenty one minutes. If only he knew, Tahra had achieved Earth orbit with her consciousness long before.

This wasn’t the reason that evening affected me. I had an unexpected visit from Tahra. There appeared to be something about her I couldn’t put my finger on, an odd intensity she exuded. I looked at her, not displeased, just surprised.

“How are you today?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer my question and actually appeared to be concerned, so in a way she’d responded, albeit non-verbally.

“What’s troubling you?”

Finally, after what seemed a long moment, she replied, “Do you realise what you’re doing?”

This wasn’t the Tahra I knew.

“Of course,” I answered. “Have you got…cold feet?”

“You need to think of the consequences,” she stated, keeping her distance from me.

She puzzled me. The new direction of the OOBE project had been her own idea, she wanted to push it further than I dared, so why would she question the outcome?

“This is something you want too,” I pointed out. “The consequences can only be positive, we’ll achieve our objective.”

She shook her head, almost frustrated, as if in a hurry.

“No, no,” she insisted. “You must think about the repercussions of pushing the boundaries too quickly. What happened when Pandora opened the box?”

“But if we stay in the comfort zone,” I countered, “we’ll never learn anything, or evolve.”

Tahra breathed deeply to stay calm.

“It’ll change everything,” she said, sadly.

“Isn’t that what we want? Don’t worry,” I reassured her, “don’t forget that Pandora shut the box just before Hope escaped. It’ll all be worth it.”

She realised my mind couldn’t be swayed and changed her tactic.

“Don’t go beyond sixty five,” she cautioned. “Sixty-five is safe, but seventy- five isn’t. Remember this.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Tahra.”

I hadn’t allayed her fears, but rather than explain herself, she simply turned and left me sat there, still mystified. I didn’t hear a door slam but when I chased after her, she’d already left the building.

What a bizarre visit, so unlike her, yet it clearly was Tahra. I did have fleeting second thoughts about the next experiment, but decided to plough on regardless. Today was a blip. She’d realise the haste in her anxiety.

***

Summer solstice provided a beautiful sunny backdrop for the next mission. Paul sat in the back garden at The Establishment, cup of tea in his hand and the newspaper on his lap. He perused it, skimming over reports of the US using B52 bombers to attack guerrilla fighters in South Vietnam. Reading it in disdain, he wondered why humanity persisted in war and destruction. Why couldn’t they focus on peace, and exploring the cosmos? After skipping the fashion section on Mary Quant and Vidal Sassoon’s latest styles, he noticed Tahra, relieved she’d found him.

She appeared breezy and enthusiastic, eager to see the equipment he’d designed and the methods he’d use. Paul felt baffled by the swing in her mood yet again, and she noticed his confused expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“I thought you wanted to be cautious with the OOBE project,” he replied.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, you came to see me, remember? You requested I think more about the consequences.”

A perplexed expression replaced the bright and breezy air she’d carried in with her.

“I haven’t seen you since the last experiment,” she said.

Paul’s expression now reflected her confusion.

“No, honestly, you paid me a visit a few weeks ago,” he insisted. “You were adamant about the potential repercussions of what we’re doing.”

Tahra just looked at him blankly, so he gave up.

“You must have been dreaming,” she concluded. “They seem so real sometimes. Maybe it’s your subconscious mind expressing your fears about the project.”

Paul shrugged. Tahra’s visit seemed as convincing as her argument though. Her behaviour on arrival totally contradicted her demeanour today, so perhaps he had been dreaming and the image of her had indeed simply been his unconscious mind trying to express some repressed fear about the project. What other explanation could there be?

“What have you created for me?” she asked, brushing off the blip in the conversation.

“Well,” Paul began, “I’ve been looking at harmonic frequencies using an oscillator.”

Tahra laughed.

“In English, please.”

“Vibration,” he explained. “Everything vibrates at a certain frequency: buildings, bridges, bodies…consciousness. Acoustic resonance brought down the walls of Jericho, and its effects are underestimated. If I find the harmonic, or resonant frequency of consciousness, I believe I can stimulate it and amplify it, but not destroy it.”

“Will it make me more powerful?” she queried.

Paul shrugged, putting his tea and paper aside.

“It’s just a hypothesis, I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Will it be harmful?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I’m aware of previous research highlighting destructive resonant frequencies, but I haven’t yet found the precise vibration for consciousness.”

“Would it permanently…affect my remote viewing?” she asked, nervously.

Paul shook his head. “All of my experience with resonant frequencies shows that once the oscillator is turned off, the effect ceases. To bring down walls, the resonance needs to be persistent. However, I think consciousness is more durable, like light.”

“Your experience with resonant frequencies?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Paul winced and looked regretful.

“Something I’m not proud of,” he declared.

“Did you hurt anyone?” she enquired, sitting on the grass beside him, ready to listen.

He lowered his eyes and paused, as if not wishing to re-live his time at The Establishment.

“Yes. At first, I just tested for the existence of a field because I sought proof of the soul, but then it became a project to test the effects of electromagnetic fields on people, both their physiology and psychology. The testing gave way to an investigation into psychological warfare… We used electromagnetic fields and resonance on people to induce anxiety, mental illness, psychosis…you name it. We tried to wipe memories, and gave people hallucinogenic drugs…pretty insidious stuff really. In retrospect, it was a low point of my life, although Max finally relocated me to The Institute.”

“You worked at The Institute?”

“Yes, the most rewarding experience I’ve had until now. I studied all the residents there. It made me feel closer to my goal.”

“Your goal?”

“To find out the truth of our existence, as more than anything, I wonder why we’re here. What is the purpose of life, the universe…everything? Is there a God, or are we truly alone?”

Tahra looked as if his words had touched not only her heart, but her soul, and she continued to listen.

“You’ll play a major part in that discovery. Science believes it has the answers regarding creation, what with the Big Bang Theory and the Theory of Relativity, but it can’t answer the most fundamental and crucial question…why? We search for the how, but never the purpose. There’s a reason for everything. Biology tells us we are physical bodies with the sole purpose of reproducing, yet through my research, I know humanity goes way beyond the physical body. Why maintain a species just simply to reproduce? It makes no sense.”

“We all have a real purpose in life,” she agreed.

“I think you’re fulfilling that purpose right now,” Paul answered. “You were made for this project.”

Tahra became aware of the rush of emotion flooding her body. Those words he spoke…so full of meaning… Unlike Max, he’d shared the less than stellar aspects of his life, his failings as well as his successes. He bolstered her confidence, and she realised how much she missed the attention of a man, a good man.

Reaching out with her fingertips, she touched Paul’s arm and lightly stroked it, closing her eyes and visualising a wave of pleasure curling up his spine. She heard him gasp slightly, so she sent another wave of pleasure. Yes, Paul had the capacity to share his life, and she had the ability to share the dividends of her power.

Opening her eyes, she noted his expression of pleasure, and he didn’t respond with fear or apprehension, he enjoyed her manipulation of the fire within. This time, he wouldn’t push her away, his heart had been stolen. In a way, life had stacked the odds in her favour, because she possessed the ability to affect the emotions and energy of others. Through using her remote viewing capabilities, she learned that Paul now lived alone. No woman stood in her way, and she could move in for the kill.

Finally relinquishing, Paul leaned over and kissed her, and she stood up, their lips still locked together. Manoeuvring onto his lap, she allowed his hands to roam her body, enjoying the sensation of another man’s hands on her breasts. It felt intense, kissing him and she wondered if they’d both been waiting for this since New Year.

They mutually unbuttoned each other’s clothing, feeling the fresh morning air on their bodies. The sun’s rays invigorated them and felt conducive to nakedness. Realising they couldn’t continue on the rickety garden chair, Paul placed his hands under her buttocks and carried her over to a smooth area of grass, somewhere a little more private from prying eyes viewing the scene from a window. He suppressed her giggling with a rain of kisses, lying on top of her, and progressed to exploring her body with his lips and teeth, removing the rest of her clothing with care.

In many ways, it reminded Tahra of that moment in the States with Max: the anticipation, the pleasure of a man’s lips on the most intimate part of her body…except Paul didn’t allow her to climax. Instead, he laid on top of her and spoke to her softly.

“Is this really going to be your first time?”

She nodded, looking at him with a longing she’d suppressed for months.

He fully appreciated what she was giving him, and kissed her with a passion he’d not felt for months. For her first time, it offered her a gratifying experience and Paul maintained a steady rhythm, as he wanted to give her a perfect introduction to sex. Tahra coordinated her own body movements with his, and once she’d become accustomed to the feel of him inside of her, she focused on using her gift to send waves of energy coiling up his spine.

Unlike Max, he embraced it, his breathing deepened, and he opened himself to the experience. He wasn’t selfish and focused on her pleasure too, only allowing himself to climax once she’d obtained the maximum amount of pleasure from the experience. After his orgasm, he collapsed beside her, gazing at the sky. Tahra rolled onto her side, and trailed her fingers on his chest.

“I’ve decided I like sex,” she declared. “We must do this every time we meet.”

Paul laughed and hugged her.

“We’d never finish the project.”

“Then we must meet more often.”

Was that something he wanted? Lying next to her, he felt as content as she did, like he was the luckiest man in the world. Yes, it was something he wanted, but he wanted to complete the project too. He sat up, or otherwise he’d fall asleep.

“We have work to do,” he insisted.

She didn’t disagree and remembered what they were supposed to be doing, so they both got dressed. He kissed her to conclude the intimacy of the session, but then realised he didn’t feel ready to head to the research room. A wave of pleasure crept up his spine and he wanted to repeat the whole experience. In retrospect, it now seemed foolish refusing her, if only he’d known how good it could be.

***

I don’t know why that particular day I relinquished to her, but I had no regrets. As a forty four year old man, a young woman just turned twenty is indeed a prize to cherish, especially one so beautiful and talented. Why did I not give in previously, when it was clear that I didn’t love Eleanor, despite my moral integrity? Maybe I didn’t feel worthy, which is foolish. Maybe I felt guilty, assuming I’d be exploiting such a young woman. It’s hard not to become attached to someone you work closely with, when you know that the most significant piece of work you’ll produce in your life is directly related to their success or failure.

Any sense of guilt dissipated quickly, as she became the driving force behind this union. The age gap was difficult to get used to at first and she certainly saw the world with different eyes, but the project acted as common ground that connected us and transcended the generational difference. If anything, I needed that injection of young blood into my life.

I started to see more of her, and we socialised locally to get away from the intensity of the project, ironically frequenting the very pub I’d taken her to on her last birthday. She became proficient at horse riding, and we enjoyed outings to the cinema.

The sex was an entirely different experience. I don’t know whether it’s the close proximity of her electromagnetic field or whether it’s something she deliberately does, but my whole body surges with energy every time. The thought of sex with her had crossed my mind on numerous occasions prior to it happening, but making it reality is another thing. Maybe I’d believed the idea of it was more intriguing, and that the reality would spoil it. However, it was the other way round. Tahra was a naturally sexual being, and never let an opportunity slip by to enjoy her favourite activity. I always found it difficult to say no, but I felt comfortable with that.

The OOBE project acted as the cohesive force in our relationship. We fed each other’s enthusiasm, almost daring the other to break all boundaries, a very sixties thing really without the drugs. I felt no need to introduce her to LSD though, because what we were doing seemed more profound.

The project needed to move forward and for it to do that, I needed to understand more about the circumstances in which Tahra projected her consciousness. This was the key and at that point, I couldn’t have imagined the nature of the events that followed.

In all my work with resonant frequencies, I hadn’t found one in particular that equated with projection of consciousness, mainly because my prior research with resonant frequencies hadn’t focused on remote viewing. I hadn’t met Oscar, George, or Tahra. Before I felt willing to play around with an oscillator, I connected Tahra to an EEG to measure her brainwave activity during her sessions. The results were revealing.

Tahra has the ability to switch straight from beta wave activity, the normal level of alertness we experience during the day, to quickly enter theta wave state, at the lower end of the frequency range. Theta wave state is interesting: it’s equated with daydreaming and that time just after we wake, when the mind is at its most receptive and creative. When Tahra projected her consciousness, I observed her brainwave activity registered in the theta range. The precise frequency at which her consciousness left her body was 7.8 hertz, or cycles per second.

Maybe 7.8 would turn out to be a significant number.

***

Tahra felt ecstatic about relinquishing her virginity, and she couldn’t have chosen a more suitable candidate to relieve her of her chastity. Although she’d insisted on no sex before marriage during her strange relationship with Max, that hadn’t been an issue with Paul. She sensed she’d found a good man, someone she’d remain with for the rest of her life. He made her feel secure, appreciated, and loved. Max attracted her on an innately primitive and emotional level, but he didn’t share his life in the way that Paul did. In the conflict between opting for an open book or an enigma, Tahra gravitated to the path of least resistance.

They fitted together like a lock and key, an enzyme and its receptor, like body and soul. Because neither of them planned on bringing a child into this world, she took advantage of the birth control pill, allowing her to enjoy sex without concern.

Summer allowed them to take part in recreational activities, not only horse riding but cycling. She wobbled down the country lanes, while Paul snaked ahead, even letting go of the handlebars. It occurred to him, in that moment, that teaching her to drive would be a good idea.

Tahra wrinkled her nose at the thought of driving the old Ford Popular, which often sat parked outside The Establishment. Her eyes gazed in the direction of Paul’s beloved Triumph Spitfire, and he appeared reticent, so Tahra delivered a wave of positive energy.

“I promise to look after it,” she said, cocking her head on one side in a persuasive manner.

She further enticed him with a sweet kiss and a hug, and he relented, slipping into the passenger seat of this sleek and sporty vehicle.

At first, Tahra found it awkward operating the clutch, accelerator and brake while trying to steer and watch the road ahead. They stuck to country lanes, usually devoid of traffic and with determination, she grasped the basics. Paul remained patient, although he gripped the seat a little tighter than he cared to admit.

“Hey,” she said, as if inspired, “I could become a more competent driver by using my remote viewing capabilities to see further down the road ahead, or check that directions are correct. I’d never get lost!”

“Tahra, that’s cheating!” Paul objected.

“Why is that cheating? I’m not sitting an exam!”

“Because…that’s not the way you drive.”

“If everyone else could use remote viewing to assist driving a car, they would,” Tahra pointed out.

“You need to keep your physical eyes on the road at all times, and look in your centre mirror.”

“I’ll just remote view in short bursts, when a panoramic view is required,” she conceded.

To illustrate her point, she pushed her consciousness up above the car to get a bird’s eye view. She saw herself driving, and clearly noted the crossroads ahead with a car approaching it, so she switched back to a perspective inside her skull to make the right manoeuvres at the junction.

“This is where remote viewing is very useful,” she explained, “as I knew there was a car approaching the crossroads before I even got close to it.”

On subsequent days, she became more confident behind the wheel, causing her to take more risks with remote viewing and driving. Using a bird’s eye view, she surveyed a straight stretch of road and stabbed the accelerator, seeing what the Spitfire could do. Paul began to look nervous, and gripped the seat tightly.

Tahra approached a Morris Minor quite sharply, and got frustrated as the driver didn’t see the hurry. Because she practised on country roads, the Spitfire encountered a series of s-bends, making it difficult to overtake. She projected her consciousness far ahead, as if accelerating ahead of the car. Free of her body and the vehicle, she felt herself rushing at speed like a racing car, around a series of bends and she saw there were no other cars coming in the opposite direction. Tahra accelerated rapidly, pulled out and zipped past the Morris Minor, leaving Paul gobsmacked.

“Tahra, you can’t overtake on a bend, you need to see that the road ahead is clear.”

“But it is clear,” she insisted, “I used remote viewing to check a mile down the road.”

No matter, Paul gripped his seat tightly. She used a bird’s eye view to check the road beyond and behind, then opened the engine up fully. It was exhilarating, and the car just handled the corners but she had to fight with the steering wheel, which made Paul even more nervous. By the time she pulled into the drive back at The Establishment, he looked white.

Easing himself out of the passenger seat, looking shaken, he dramatically breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think I need a stiff drink,” he announced.

***

By July the 14th 1965, the OOBE project could move forwards. Paul set up an oscillator calibrated to resonate at a frequency of 7.8 hertz, or cycles per second. He enclosed Tahra in a specially designed booth, complete with a comfortable seat, EEG hook up, and visual monitor just to be on the safe side. From a small control station, he introduced her to a frequency of 10 hertz, in the alpha wave state, synonymous with general relaxation. No sense in throwing her in at the deep end, just yet.

She closed her eyes. The subliminal tone of the frequency was inaudible, yet it felt soothing. Paul noticed within a few minutes, Tahra’s brain wave pattern had synchronised with the output from the oscillator, so he changed the frequency to 7.8Hz after a short while. Within moments, her brain wave signature matched the new output signal.

Focusing her attention on the outermost limits of the solar system, she felt a subtle thrust, as if her consciousness projection were guided more externally this time. She found herself gazing upon the bluish, ethereal planet of Neptune, a gas giant on the periphery of the solar system, and felt peaceful in its presence, in touch with the rhythm of the universe. However, she experienced no push to go further and when she tried to leave the confines of the solar system, she encountered an invisible barrier, frustrating her as it had done previously while trying to reach Sirius. She also discovered that, because of the oscillator, returning to her body became difficult. Paul sensed her distress and changed the frequency, returning it to the alpha wave state.

A little concerned, he opened the door of the booth, trying to remain hopeful of the result the project needed. Tahra regained her composure, relieved to be back in her body although irritated with the poor conclusion.

“Well,” he asked, “did it work?”

“I didn’t travel any further,” she stated, her tone of voice clearly communicating her disappointment. “Leaving my body was easier, although getting back was hard. It was like being locked out of the house. I’m experiencing some degree of paralysis in my body, which is unusual compared to my usual remote viewing sessions, although I think I can still speak.”

Paul smiled at her down to earth similes for spiritual experiences, they were an endearing touch.

“We need to arrange a signal, when it’s time to ‘unlock’ the door then,” he decided.

“Preferably not my expression of distress, eh?” she joked.

Paul acknowledged her humour.

“Perhaps you could just raise your hand,” he suggested.

“It’s not as easy as you think,” she responded. “This isn’t a normal remote viewing session. I could twitch a finger.”

“In that case, I can attach an electrode to your finger to pick up the signals relayed from the motor neurone. Seeing as you can’t lift a finger to help!”

Tahra laughed and kissed him.

“I love you, Mr. Paul Eldridge.”

It had been a while since a woman had spoken those words to him. It had been even longer since he himself had spoken those words, and meant it.

“I love you too, Tahra.”

How could he ever regret this?

***

At the end of the day, they unwound from the pressures of the project, relaxing in Paul’s old bedroom at The Establishment. He moved the small black and white television from the office and put it in a position where they could lie in bed together and watch it. Paul propped himself up on a pillow while Tahra rested her head on his chest.

There was nothing on the independent commercial channel but adverts, so they took a moment to kiss while the sound of Bach’s Air on a G-String accompanied the voice over comparing happiness to a cigar called Hamlet. He needed to change channel, although he felt too comfortable to get up and do the dirty deed.

“I don’t know about remote viewing,” he said, “but we need a remote channel changer.”

Tahra looked thoughtful, then picked up a shoe and threw it in the direction of the TV channel buttons. Surprisingly, it found its mark and they got BBC 2 instead.

“You could have broken the TV, you know,” Paul objected.

“I’m sure we could have found something else to do,” she mused, stroking his stomach lightly with her fingers.

With a choice between an episode of ‘The Likely Lads’, or make love, the sex won, with the sound of dialogue and canned laughter in the background.

Paul valued the romantic element of the OOBE project, for without it, he knew he’d lose heart. For a whole month, they tried using the resonant frequency of 7.8Hz as an accelerator, but to no avail. The ‘release’ system worked fine, yet the objective of leaving the solar system eluded them. Tahra remained supportive, although she felt just as frustrated as Paul and she couldn’t offer any suggestions to achieve their objective, even though she was the vehicle for his idea as much as the inspiration.

Tahra spent less time at The Institute, not problematic due to Max being absent on business for the past six months. Miss Tynedale believed that the extended periods of absence were due to the project with Paul. It didn’t occur to her that Tahra was in a relationship with Paul, and Max had made no efforts to intrude on the project, or enquire about her personal life before he’d left. Was it because he no longer cared and that he’d given up his pursuit? Did she care if he’d become indifferent? Max began to drift further and further from her thoughts, it was an episode in her life with closure.

Paul lost motivation for Max’s project, the remote viewing blocker, but he knew it wouldn’t be difficult pinpointing a resonant frequency to disrupt the movement of consciousness.

However, once August arrived, the project review lay only two months away. This analysis would determine whether or not OOBE had a future, and Paul began to feel the pressure. In many ways, it could be considered a success, as a number of experiments had been carried out and the results recorded. No matter, he still felt dissatisfied. He needed something profound, like a meeting with a being from another world. Ironically, the Rolling Stones sang ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’ on the radio, and Paul smiled sardonically. Tahra walked in from the kitchen, singing along, and she danced over to him.

“Don’t rub it in,” Paul said, his face showing the frustration at their lack of breakthrough.

“It will happen,” she insisted. “This is meant to be.”

She popped a piece of fruit in his mouth and looked at him intently. He wasn’t enthusiastic.

“I don’t like to fail at anything,” he begrudged.

Tahra gave him a stern look.

“You haven’t failed.”

He sighed. “I just want to find the answer, right this moment.”

“It will come,” she reassured him, “I know this project will succeed.”

Tahra swung her leg over his knees and sat on his lap, idly stroking his chest.

“I can make you feel better,” she declared.

Leaning forward, she unbuttoned his shirt and he made no complaint as she delivered a little wave of pleasure up his spine, something he never protested against. She did indeed deliver on her promise, and they sat with contentment in that position for a while, eventually retiring to bed. He soon closed his eyes and drifted into, what was in effect, a lucid dream. For the first time in his life, he actually became aware of the fact that he’d entered a dream state, and it provided a turning point in the project.

***

I found myself on a partially fertile plain with a river nearby, on which boats full of people floated. I contemplated walking over to meet these people, as I believed they had something important to say. They disembarked from the boats and came towards me, however, they couldn’t see me. As they filed past, I decided to follow them and when I turned round, something amazing loomed into view. The pyramids filled my vision, but they weren’t the semi-ruins I expected, they were encased in polished limestone and reflected the light of the sun.

Watching the people enter the pyramid through a hitherto unknown entrance, I followed them in this lucid dream state. Some unidentifiable light source lit the corridors, and the people made their way to a chamber within the pyramid, where one person lay down. A brief ceremony ensued, which I didn’t understand, and everyone left except for the person on their back.

A few moments later, I became aware of a steady hum, some kind of ultra-low frequency which was inaudible, but it caused my bodyto tingle. The hum appeared to resonate throughout the chamber, and seemed to be channelled into the walls themselves. I sensed everything vibrating, as if the rock molecules jiggled and oscillated.

The tingling drew me away, although I didn’t travel anywhere, I sensed more of an adjustment in my vision. Shapes seemed to move around the room and ooze out of the walls, then they became more corporeal. Many of them seemed to resemble Egyptian Gods, for they had human bodies and animal heads, while some were simply serpents, both winged and wingless varieties.

It occurred to me that the pyramid, in this lucid dream, acted as some sort of resonator. I longed to know the workings of this, because of the relationship to my own research. Was this the reason for my dream? Although I spoke no words, the beings, or Gods heard my thoughts and one serpent turned towards me.

“You want to understand this machine,” it said.

I’d never considered the pyramid to be a machine before, but it wasn’t the main issue.

“Yes, I think this is the answer to my problem.”

“And what is your problem?” the serpent asked.

“I’m using a resonant frequency of 7.8 to push consciousness towards the stars, but it isn’t working.”

The serpent seemed amused.

“Yes, you have found the ancient number. But life does not resonate at one frequency alone.”

“I have to overlay another signal?” I proposed.

“Yes, you need to find the harmonics. 7.8 is always the foundation, but it is the harmonics that change the experience.”

“And that will have the desired result?”

The serpent pondered the question, but didn’t affirm or contradict him.

“Look at the machine you find yourself in, you must understand its fundamentals, and the results of these principles.”

“And the results are?”

The serpent remained patient.

“The use of the primeval number and the harmonics creates the field necessary to walk with us. You are looking at The First Time.”

“The First Time mankind walked with you, and spoke with you?”

“Yes, this was always meant to be.”

“What is the purpose of this contact?” I continued.

The serpent seemed glad I’d asked this.

“Mankind contacts us to learn, but there are many other beings in the cosmos besides us.”

“What did mankind learn from you?”

“Anything it desired. Each form of life has its own knowledge and secrets: of the workings of the universe, the purpose of their existence, or more practical matters such as medicine and technology. Mankind learned to a great extent in this way, although the consequences of the use of this knowledge are mankind’s only to experience. We do not discriminate, those who walk and speak with us are free to ask any question but mankind has free will, we do not control whether the knowledge is used for good or evil, it is not our nature to intervene. It has always has been, and always will be this way.”

“Was there ever a Second Time?”

The serpent moved closer to me.

“Not in your past, but in the life of the universe, there will be many cycles of progress and devolution.”

“I want to initiate the Second Time,” I declared, eager to access this knowledge.

“Then you must build a machine.”

“It’s as simple as that?”

“It is simple to start something, it is not so simple to continue and accept the outcome of your actions,” the serpent answered.

“I must do this,” I insisted.

“Then you must build a machine.”

“How?”

“Look at the machine that you stand inside. That is why you are here.”

The serpent turned away and diffused into the walls, leaving me alone, yet enthused. Although the serpent had gone, I realised that the answers were here, I just needed to find them myself.

Moving around the machine, I sought the source of the resonance and allowed my gut feeling to lead me there. I found an immensely tall gallery, which was stacked floor to ceiling with columns of bowls. These bowls were responsible for the resonance but in modern society, I knew an oscillator could generate the required frequencies. The resonance was channelled into a small ante-chamber, which I surmised filtered the acoustics and directed them into the main chamber, where the participant lay. I also realised that the walls were full of quartz crystal, and that crystal generated a magnetic field when stimulated by the resonance from the gallery and the ante-chamber. The magnetic field gave strength to the signal, it helped ‘tune’ the consciousness to a different cosmic frequency. It released consciousness from its binding with the brain matter, and allowed the mind to visit other worlds.

I knew what to do now.

Awakening with a fire in my heart, I reached for a pen and paper, and started to draw. I was going to build a machine.





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