20
Now Recruiting
At the beginning of September 1966, the excitement over a triumphant conclusion for England in the football World Cup had died down, although Paul took little notice of it. He needed to take Project OOBE to the next level. Twenty people, a mixture of men and women arrived at The Establishment. They’d been selected by Max for Paul to interview and recruit, although Paul had asked two of his favourite people to sit in on the interviews to give a second opinion. He needed to know Tahra would be able to work with them, and he’d asked Emilie to sit in to pick up any false pretences and hidden agendas that would be harmful to the project. He failed to note the tense partnership between the two women though, as Emilie had never really taken to Tahra but she thought highly of Paul and if he trusted Tahra, then she needed to as well.
He met them in the ostentatious hallway and the potential recruits marvelled at the high ceiling, the grand staircase, and the oak panelling which gave The Establishment that stately home feel. As they stood around in awe, Paul quickly surveyed them: a black man and woman with the most outrageous afros, a petite copper haired girl, a Spanish looking woman, a fat man who looked grumpy, and the rest looked like the average male or female from suburbia.
“This is really neat,” said the black woman in between chewing gum, her accent revealing her American origin.
Paul ushered them to the communal sitting room, where Tahra and Emilie were waiting. Again, the potential recruits marvelled at the luxurious surroundings: the beautiful green leather sofas to sit on, a magnificent inglenook fireplace, and William Morris wallpaper adorning the walls. They looked Tahra and Emilie over, curious about their role, and sat on the sofas when Paul asked them. He shushed the room of its excited chatter and introduced himself.
“Welcome to The Establishment,” he began. “My name is Dr. Paul Eldridge and this is Tahra Mamoun, my associate, and Emilie Charron, an advisor.”
He gestured to them and they gazed at twenty pairs of curious eyes.
“You are here because you’ve been short listed to take part in a project which will take you to the outer limits of your imagination. It will test your sense of reality and your nerve, so it’s not for the fainthearted. You will need to be open minded and psychologically stable so I stress to you now, if this is not for you, then I highly recommend you stand up and exit the room now.”
Eyes widened in response to his honest and direct introduction, it provoked some chatter amongst the potential recruits but there was no way to ease them in gently, he needed to know they had the mental tenacity to handle it. He sensed an awkward moment, some shuffling of feet but thankfully, no one left the room.
“Well,” piped up a Black American man with a well sculpted afro, “that’s why we’re all here! I don’t dig reality anyway.”
“Good. That means you’re all motivated. Before I explain the project, we’re going to get to know each other first, as the six of you who are selected will need to be able to work together. It will give us an impression of your personality, your strengths and qualities, and it will help you relax into the day.”
He paused for breath before continuing.
“Our schedule today involves mingling for the first forty five minutes, we’ll participate in some icebreakers and then go into a coffee break. After that, we’ll administer some personality tests and questionnaires, take lunch, which will be provided and the afternoon will focus on one to interviews. I’ve decided to interview ten of you, so you’ll know after lunch whether you’ve been short listed or not. We’ll make our decision tonight and you’ll be notified by telephone tomorrow, with details of the dates and remuneration. Any questions about today’s activities?”
Everyone thought the instructions were clear. Paul set up some simple games that enabled everyone to get to know each other. Tahra got involved while Emilie acted as the objective observer, picking up on the undercurrents. She sensed the relationship between Paul and Tahra, it stood out a mile, and she guessed the great secrecy surrounding this, so for his sake, she’d respect that. The two Americans were conspicuous in terms of their honesty and transparency, coming here for reasons of personal development. Others attended for purely financial reasons, while some were inquisitive and keen to be involved to satisfy their curiosity. The Spanish lady was hiding something, while the fat grumpy man felt as if he would rather be elsewhere and didn’t have the social skills to mix with the others. She didn’t like the way he eyed her up either.
They continued to mingle into the coffee break, then Paul took them upstairs in small groups of four to a research room, where he administered some personality tests. While he did this, Tahra and Emilie kept the others occupied by asking each person to give a short presentation about a favourite topic of theirs. Subjects ranged from The State of Tennessee, Spanish Cuisine, The Lost Library of Alexandria, Music of the 1960s, English Literature Classics, The Future of Robots, Renaissance Art, and Films of the 1920s. It provided insight about what made these people tick.
The morning passed quickly and lunch time gave everyone a breather. The presentation topics stimulated discussion over the delicious buffet that Max had ordered for them. Emilie gave Paul some initial feedback regarding who she believed were the most suitable candidates, and Tahra fed into that too. So, by the end of lunch, he gathered everyone together, shushed the chatter and announced the lucky candidates.
“As you know, only ten of you will be interviewed this afternoon and we’ve come to a decision who these individuals will be.”
He paused for effect.
“We’ll interview Angelina, Tyrone, Nicholas, Kevin, Samantha, Sonya, Curtis, Jane, Dominique, and Sally. Those who didn’t make it to interview, thank you very much for your time and effort, and safe journey home. Transport has been arranged to take you back to the centre of London.”
Half of the people in the room stood up, gathered their belongings and made their way to the gravelled driveway, where three taxis awaited them. The lucky ones still remaining in the sitting room now wondered exactly what they’d let themselves in for.
Paul continued with the selection process.
“You’ll be asked ten questions in the interview, some of them may seem strange and irrelevant to you, but I ask you to answer them as honestly as possible, no matter how odd they may seem. You may be tempted to lie about some of these, believing I’m trying to catch you out, but the questions you think will eliminate you from the project will turn out to be the ones that will help me select you above the others. Best of luck with the afternoon.”
Paul took them upstairs for interview one at a time. There were three crucial questions that would ultimately assist his decision, he needed to know how open minded they were. He’d already established that the ten remaining candidates were psychologically stable, with a strong mental constitution. Now he wanted to know about their core beliefs and what past experiences modelled them. Six people clearly stood out.
The Black American, Angelina Cortez, had quite a flamboyant personality, honest manner, and beautifully sculpted afro, making her a front runner. Paul asked his final three questions in the interview.
“Have you ever taken hallucinogenic drugs or used marijuana?”
Angelina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure how to answer then she remembered what he’d told them all.
“What the hell,” she began, “I ain’t gonna lie about myself. Yeah, I’ve taken hallucinogenic drugs and I smoke dope too.”
“Do you enjoy them on a regular basis?” he added, secretly smiling at her response.
“I smoke dope every day, a few joints and I take acid about once a month, hey, I ain’t the only one.”
He continued with the next question.
“What’s the most profound religious or spiritual experience you’ve ever had?”
Angelina took a moment to consider then answered with conviction, “My first trip.”
“Why?” Paul probed.
She didn’t hesitate with the response.
“It blew my mind,” she replied. Then, out of sheer curiosity she added, “So, you tried it too?”
Paul admired her directness.
“Yes, I have,” he answered, “but I’ve discovered something more mind blowing than acid.”
Her eyes widened.
“Please tell me that you’re gonna reveal all.”
“I think you’re going to find out,” he reassured her.
He posed the final question.
“Why do you want to join this project?”
She sat back in her chair, feeling more relaxed and confident.
“I wanna open my mind,” she responded, “nothing else to say really, my aim in life is to experiment, see everything there is to see, know everything there is to know, feel everything there is to feel. That’s my goal.”
Paul had already decided, Angelina had made the team.
Tyrone Simpson, Angelina’s Black American partner, sat in the interview seat next. His afro equalled hers, although he had a more mellow side to his personality. Tyrone gave almost identical answers to Angelina, and Paul soon realised he couldn’t have one without the other. It would be a pleasure to work with them.
He interviewed Nicholas Blair next, a tall man with fair, curly hair and piercing blue eyes. His reserved manner belied his eloquence, yet he seemed perceptive and knowledgeable. He’d given the presentation on the Lost Library of Alexandria.
On being asked if he’d ever taken hallucinogenic drugs or marijuana, he answered, “Once or twice, I wondered what I could learn from it.”
“And did you learn anything from it?”
“I’m not sure… I mean, I didn’t learn anything factual, I analysed the experience although it’s sometimes hard for my scientific brain to switch off. More than anything it opened my mind, made me aware that possibly there is something more to life.”
Another solid contender, Paul questioned him further.
“Would you take LSD again?”
Nicholas considered the question carefully.
“Maybe another type of hallucinogen, I want a different experience.”
When Paul queried his most profound moment, the answer took him by surprise.
“When I first read about the lost library of Alexandria, the idea of a vast collection of knowledge that has vanished forever… It inspired and saddened me at the same time. I always wonder what books it contained, what information…”
“And what are your reasons for wanting to join the project?”
“The potential for knowledge,” he answered. “I want to learn something few people will get the chance to experience.”
It seemed a reasonable motivation, and Paul decided he liked Nicholas, so he remained a strong contender.
Kevin Whitehouse, a balding man in his forties, failed to inspire Paul even though he’d travelled around the world. He appeared to be fascinated with the physical world, and had an anti-drugs stance, therefore didn’t seem open minded enough to withstand the very surreal nature of the journeys.
Samantha Thane impressed Paul in the psychometric testing but like Kevin, didn’t reflect the out-of-the-box thinking he sought.
However, Sonya Marsh warmed Paul’s heart with her musical appreciation. A petite woman with copper hair and freckles, she wanted to join the project as her experiences would hopefully inspire her to write beautiful music. Paul highlighted her as another strong contender.
Curtis Jacobs also managed to impress Paul. Although still an engineering student, he hoped to build a robot in the future. Averagely attractive, he had shoulder length brown hair and a slim build. Like many young people coming of age in the sixties, he’d dabbled with hallucinogenic drugs and rated it as his most profound experience to date. His reasons for joining the team were spiritual ones, inspired by his drug experiences. Paul wanted him on the project.
Jane Berry and Sally Harper had traditional concepts of the world around them, which left Dominique Benitez to potentially fill the last vacancy. Something about her reminded him of Tahra, although she had huge brown eyes instead, and the fiery intensity expected from a Spanish woman. However, she concealed a personal tragedy. It transpired she sought sanctuary from an abusive boyfriend and for that reason, he wanted to rule her out but Tahra stepped in.
“It will empower her, she’s a strong woman and she can take the demands of the project.”
“She’ll be a wild card,” Paul protested. “Although her psychometric tests were sound, I’m worried about her.”
“I’ll look after her,” Tahra insisted.
Out of the remaining available candidates, she seemed the better choice. Dominique therefore joined the team, along with Angelina, Tyrone, Nicholas, Sonya, and Curtis. Now he had a complete crew.
***
On the morning of September the 21st 1966, the autumn equinox, Tahra mentally prepared herself to begin guiding the residents of The Institute. She listened to the new Beatles L.P, ‘Revolver’, over a cup of tea and several slices of toast, wishing ‘Eleanor Rigby’ was a more cheerful tune. Shortly after, the six residents of The Institute arrived at the farmhouse ready to begin phase one of their involvement in the project. Oscar and George had already had a trip in the machine but the others hadn’t, so Paul decided to minimise their exposure while they orientated themselves.
Emilie, Sakie, Beth, and Peter had a brief out of body experience courtesy of the machine. They responded positively and Paul sent them for a medical with Dr. Harrow, who was contracted to Max’s facilities on a part-time basis.
During that time, the residents of The Institute enjoyed staying with Paul and Tahra. The residents quickly understood they were in a relationship, which Tahra felt a little uneasy about but they promised to keep it a secret. If anything, it felt good to be part of their lives again, since Tahra had been absent frequently and Paul had hardly seen them since 1962. They laughed and joked like old times, sharing good food and fine wine while discussing the project.
Before long, they received another orientation in the machine, had a medical, and all four confirmed they were ready for the next step. Tahra led two separate excursions into the serpent realm, due to its beauty and lack of hostile beings. All four agreed they’d experienced something profound, that it felt realer than real, and that it radically altered their view of reality and the universe.
“You know,” Beth said, “I get the feeling we’ll never be the same after this project.”
Paul agreed. “It is life changing, and you can’t fail to be touched by the experience. It takes away the loneliness of existence.”
He took statements from them individually, finding their reports remarkably consistent, demonstrating impressive reliability. It became clear that the frequencies didn’t give random results, but that each combination correlated with a different world, or dimension.
Over the next two weeks, they made a follow up visit to the serpent realm and a subsequent visit to the emotion world, again with Tahra guiding them two at a time. By the middle of October, they were addicted to the journeys in the machine and were ready to explore a new world. Paul warned them of the uncharted territory, and they understood the risks, realising the field would power down after twenty minutes, bringing them home to their bodies.
Paul expressed a desire to go back in the machine so taught Oscar how to oversee the process, clearly instructing him on the sequence in which the frequencies and field needed to boot up. The hatch closed, the field powered up to the sound of ‘New World Symphony’ and Paul, Tahra and Sakie were hurled out of their bodies.
***
Tahra, Sakie, and I emerged in a world vastly different to anything we’d seen before. A deafening noise, or electronic screech pierced my ‘eardrums’ and disturbed me due to being so relentless. I couldn’t pinpoint the source, in fact, it seemed to be generated by the very medium of space we found ourselves in. The screech changed pitch and modulation, but it never let up.
I looked over to find a likeness of Tahra and Sakie beside me, equally horrified by the horrendous noise. It felt as if it were trying to invade our brains, attempting to penetrate the grey matter and communicate with the electrical impulses travelling along the neurons and across the synapses. After a while, we began to adjust to the intense environment and tried to focus on the visual aspects of this world.
The fabric of this world looked like the white noise you see on your television screen when it isn’t tuned into a station. The individual points of light jiggled and danced in a kind of cosmic waltz, spinning each other around giddily. I found it necessary to focus hard here, because at first glance you couldn’t see anything but once you accustomed your consciousness to its wavelength, you realised how busy it was.
In between the dancing points of light, I noticed other points of light that flashed on and off in miniature explosions. They weren’t dancing though, they were jumping. These points of light were, perhaps, travelling through this fabric of white noise. I wondered if these points of light were some kind of craft or vehicle, and if so, were there any forms of life inside them?
“We need to find the entities that inhabit this place,” I said, aware that the field would power down before long.
Tahra and Sakie agreed, although we didn’t have a clue how to enter the craft, or contact potential entities.
“I think we need to focus on a point of light and jump onto it before it pops up somewhere else,” Tahra suggested.
“It would need to be the same point of light, we don’t want to lose each other,” I said.
“But we are too big,” Sakie protested.
“Size has no relevance when in non-physical form,” I reassured her.
“I’ll choose a point and tow you,” Tahra decided.
A moment later, Sakie and I felt ourselves being pulled, or more accurately, being dragged at high speed. We hurtled towards a point of light and I felt as if we suddenly converted to quick time. Everything exploded across my field of vision so fast that I couldn’t take it in, and I had to re-focus my consciousness to adjust to this flow of time.
When I’d done this, I began to realise a standard flow of time didn’t exist here. Inside the point of light, I saw a very small, whitish-grey person with black beady eyes and no discernable sexual features. It appeared to jump through the fabric of time, like watching a reel of film not as a continuous movie, but sampling a bit here and there from different points in the reel. It seemed truly weird, for one moment it faced us, ready to communicate, then within the blink of an eye, it carried out something randomly different, like checking the controls on its ship of light. Was the entity subject to the bizarre rule of time here, or was it manipulating time as a means to an end?
“How do we communicate with it?” Tahra said.
“With great difficulty,” I answered.
The entity acknowledged our presence and pondered our bewilderment. Maybe we could attempt to initiate a conversation.
“Why does time flow in no logical order here?” I asked.
The entity continued to appear at different points in the craft, but it inputted a sequence at the control panel and some semblance of logic seemed to appear in the interior of the craft.
“Time is not what it seems,” the little being responded. “It does not flow in one direction, in fact, it has no direction at all. I have merely created an illusion inside this craft that time flows, so that you can have this conversation with me.”
“Is there any meaning to the flow of time, or is it an illusion’?” I enquired, realising that he’d done us a favour creating an artificial arrow of time.
“The future exists simultaneously with the past, and simultaneously with the present. All is one. The difference between past, present and future is an illusion.”
“But why do we have time if it has no real meaning?” Tahra questioned.
“Time is what prevents everything from happening at once,” it answered. “It is a construction of human artifice, a concept that belongs to the world of matter only.”
“But why do we have time, and clocks, and seasons?” Sakie asked in disbelief, finding the whole concept too mind boggling.
“You invented it, to tell you when to plant your crops and harvest them, when the sun will rise and set so that it will make your crops grow. You invented time to tell you to awaken and sleep, so that you may consume these crops to make your body of physical matter live and breathe and grow. Time only has meaning to you as you have constructed it; you require it to function in your world, because you require a limited view of reality to survive. In the realm of energy alone, time has no meaning. There is no time, there are only cycles: a waveform of light and dark, of growth and decay, sunrise and sunset, winter and summer.”
“Wait…if everything happens at once…” Tahra began to protest. I think maybe she began to see the significance of the concept it tried to explain.
“This conversation happens at once, with no beginning or end…” I realised. “Everything we do happens at once…”
“Are you human beings ready to see past, present, and future as one?” the being asked us. “To understand the nature of time is to participate in it and direct it, to be at one with the Monad.”
““Yes,” I insisted. “I want to see the true nature of time.”
“Then see,” it said.
With that, it picked up what appeared to be a sword like the ones used in fencing, but it was more like a needle-thin laser. It moved towards us, holding it like a weapon, and aimed straight for our eyes. We all flinched, yet felt powerless to move but luckily at that point, the field powered down and the white noise realm faded from sight. I looked over at Tahra and Sakie, who seemed quite bewildered. We moved over to the cine camera and described the world.
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Tahra said, head in hands.
“I’m crazy too,” Sakie agreed.
I commented, “We never got to see the true nature of time though, did we?”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready,” Tahra admitted. “I feel as if I don’t know what reality is anymore.”
I considered what she said.
“You’ll feel different in a few days time,” I reassured her. “You need a chance to digest what you’re seeing, that’s all.”
For once, I detected she didn’t quite believe me and that upset me. Was I right? I convinced myself that nothing ventured, nothing gained. Anything worth having did not come without difficulty. This project was so groundbreaking, so profound…we were dealing with realities so radically different from our own that it was going to shake our belief systems to the core. With that, we re-grouped with the rest of the team to relax and wind down. I’d take their statements after a well-earned tea break.
***
On the 21st of October 1966, Angelina, Tyrone, Nicholas, Curtis, Sonya, and Dominique arrived at the farmhouse looking enthusiastic and cheerful. Paul offered to make a pot of tea and guided them into the kitchen, where Beth sat at the table, finishing her breakfast. However, she seemed to drift into a trance, and spontaneously burst into tears, announcing between sobs that she’d heard the voices of over a hundred dead children. Tahra tried to console her, while the new recruits didn’t know how to respond. Did this place normally make people cry?
Only later, they heard the news broadcast on the radio, which added clarity to the psychic distress she’d witnessed. It transpired that in a Welsh village called Aberfan, a slag heap had slithered onto a junior school, killing a hundred and fifty people who were mainly children. It had happened at 9:30 that morning, precisely the moment Beth had burst into tears. She wished she’d been clairvoyant enough to prevent it, but Paul and Tahra reminded her of all the people she’d helped.
Although it didn’t offer a perfect portent for the next stage of the OOBE project, everyone mingled in the living room after a thirst quenching pot of tea. Paul laid on a buffet with sandwiches, sausage rolls, and cakes, thrown together at the last minute as they didn’t have the culinary organisation of Max this time. Tahra posed as a temporary waitress and put the radio on in the background, to encourage a less formal atmosphere.
Once the mingling had begun, Paul stood back as an objective observer to analyse the psychodynamics of this new group. Angelina and Tyrone became dominant in the group, although it didn’t cause any resentment, they were naturally effervescent characters who had a particular rapport with Oscar, probably due to Caribbean ancestry. Nicholas became the erudite connoisseur of knowledge and at first, Paul felt worried he wouldn’t cohere with the group but then he seemed to latch onto Emilie and become deeply involved in a discussion about something. There appeared to be a spark of attraction between the two.
“I see a romance brewing,” Tahra sing-songed as she brushed by Paul.
Sonya flirted around the whole group like a clever little chameleon, becoming all things to all people. She enjoyed the attention as everyone was keen to hear about her fledgling musical career. Curtis seemed to prefer male company, and Tahra made him nervous, although she tried not to intimidate him. However, Dominique clearly preferred the company of women and spent most of her time talking to Beth and Sakie. Paul hoped the wild card would turn up trumps in the end.
Tahra sidled up to him.
“I think we have a problem,” she said.
“I thought things were too perfect,” Paul responded.
Tahra held up an empty milk bottle.
“And there’s no more in the refrigerator,” she revealed.
No great disaster, it was a minor irritation.
“Keep them occupied while I drive into the village,” he said, quietly. “I’ll be back before they know it.”
He sloped off, picking up a bunch of keys from a hook near the front door. The communal Ford Popular borrowed from The Establishment sat parked in the courtyard outside, so he took that and drove the few miles to the nearest village. He pulled up outside a small grocery store then dashed in, relieved it was still open.
“Good afternoon,” said Albert, the middle aged shop keeper.
“Afternoon,” Paul mirrored. “I desperately need two pints of milk.”
Albert obliged and put bottles on the counter, telling him the price. Paul dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of shillings, thrupenny bits, and farthings. He counted out the correct amount and handed it over to Albert, giving the shop keeper a pleasant smile as he did so. Then he paused, still holding the collection of spare coins in his hand.
Without warning, a series of vibrations pulsed through Paul’s body, as if he were in the machine. He felt his body become semi-paralysed and, for a brief moment, his perception shifted to the other side of the counter, just behind the shop keeper. Surrounding Albert he saw a most peculiar rainbow effect, the bulk of which blazed around the crown of his head. Beyond that, he saw himself standing as if captured on photographic film, still and motionless. It disturbed him, viewing himself not in the mirror, but in the flesh. After a jolt, he looked at the shop keeper through his own eyes again.
“Are you all right?” Albert asked him, in a kindly and concerned way.
Paul nodded, quite shaken, and put the spare coins back in his pocket. He looked back and thankfully, the rainbow had disappeared and his consciousness remained anchored in his body. Grabbing the milk, he made a fast exit, calling out a quick farewell as he left. It disturbed him so much that he hurried back, dashed into the sitting room and headed straight to Tahra. She took the milk from him, finished a few cups of tea then noticed the strange expression on his face. He pulled her to one side.
“Has anything weird happened to you just recently…while trying to carry out normal day to day activities?” he asked her.
“Actually, yes,” she replied, “sorry I didn’t mention it.”
“What happened?” Paul continued.
“Well, I was undergoing a standard remote viewing test at The Institute, but it was more real, like I was actually there,” her voice got quieter. “All of a sudden I travelled somewhere else. I saw a therianthrope.”
Paul digested what she’d just said.
“So, it was like you were in the machine?” he queried.
“I guess so.”
“Well, I just had a vivid and disturbing out of body experience in the local shop,” Paul revealed. “I also observed a rainbow halo effect around the shop keeper. Don’t ask me how or why this happened.”
Tahra looked thoughtful now.
“Using the machine has side effects,” she said.
Paul wasn’t fazed though, in fact, his eyes lit up.
“This is exciting. It’s changing us, taking us way beyond what we are!”
“What if we can’t control it?” Tahra asked.
“Don’t be afraid,” he reassured her, “this is a gift!”
He re-integrated with the recruits, leaving Tahra to top up the milk jug. As she did this, a song drifted over from the radio, one she’d not heard before because it was a new release by the Beach Boys. She stopped to listen to it and once she heard the chorus, inspiration struck and she dragged Paul over. He listened and realised its significance.
“I think we’ve just found the signature tune for our journeys in the machine,” he declared.
“What is that spooky musical instrument they’re using?” she asked.
“I believe it’s called a Theremin,” Sonya interjected.
“I’m going to find a record shop tomorrow,” Paul decided. “We are indeed going to dig some ‘Good Vibrations’.”
He walked off towards the front of the room and tapped a spoon on the side of a cup to gain their attention. The group stopped chattering and gave him their undivided attention.
“Welcome back, my new friends. Now that you’ve all met each other, I’m going to explain the reason you’ve been recruited, I’m going to reveal to you what the project is all about, what will fill your life for the next sixteen weeks.”
Paul looked over at Tahra and winked, consumed by the fervour and forward momentum of his experiment. She bit her lip, unable to quash the impending feeling of trepidation in her stomach.
***
The next morning, after the six new recruits had settled into their quarters, Paul called them through two at a time to receive their first orientation in the machine. Angelina and Tyrone stepped up first. He showed them the machine, explained what would happen, and reassured them he’d support them throughout. They responded well to the out of body sensation and were keen to go ahead with the project. Nicholas and Curtis followed, they also had a positive experience inside the machine then lastly, Sonya and Dominique took up the rear with the final slot inside the machine for the day. They had the greatest problems adjusting to the out of body concept, but by no means were incapable of meeting the demands placed on them.
The basic orientations continued for another two weeks, with short duration sessions run at forty eight hour intervals but by the end of that time, some were itching to move onto the next stage. Angelina and Tyrone were the first candidates, and Tahra took them on their first excursion to the serpent world, a trusted initial destination. The machine proved just as reliable for non-psychics and the medical report didn’t identify any problems.
In the subsequent report for the journal, they described the same landscape, the feeling of the whole experience being ‘super real’ and expressed a desire to repeat the experience. They were a couple of people after Paul’s heart, keen to break boundaries, no remonstrations. He couldn’t believe Tahra began to get cold feet, of all the people contemplating problems, she seemed the most unlikely.
Nicholas and Curtis were next, leaving their body to the sound of ‘Good Vibrations’, an appropriate signature tune with an otherworldly feel to it and Tahra towed them to the serpent realm again. Paul felt satisfied with the follow up reports, and the fact that the two men had experienced a positive outcome. They appeared to remain mentally stable after their encounters with the serpents, and looked forward to another journey.
Sonya and Dominique fared better than Paul had envisioned. In fact, these two women seemed most eager for more. He realised it wouldn’t be long before they were ready to explore new worlds too.
However, he wanted to give Emilie, Beth, and Peter an opportunity to accompany Tahra opening up another world, to add to their repertoire. He’d been so focused on the new recruits and their initiation into the machines rites that he’d almost forgotten The Institute’s residents. They were still contracted at their normal research abode, so he needed to ring Max to request their services. Paul outlined the next objective to Tahra that evening as they relaxed on the sofa. She’d just finished reading a chapter of a text book for the last year of study although she was, at times, distracted by the television.
“In forty eight hours we’ll scout out a new world,” he announced. “You can take Emilie with you.”
Tahra looked at him, not wishing to scupper his enthusiasm.
“I’d like to take a break from the machine,” she said, tentatively.
Paul looked disappointed.
“But I thought you wanted to push the boundaries…” he began.
She took hold of his hand.
“We’ve already done that, we’ve achieved so much already. I just think there comes a time to consolidate before we move on.”
His expression almost pleaded with her.
“We’re so close here. I’m focused on an expedition with all twelve recruits in February, with you as the guide. I need everyone to be an old hand at this by then.”
Tahra squeezed his hand.
“It will happen, there’s no hurry. We don’t have to do everything so fast,” she persuaded.
Paul sighed, realising he couldn’t persuade her easily.
“I’m…just aware of the project’s timescale, I need to show clear and definitive results. I’ve waited all my life to create a project like this, it could be the success of me…papers published and seminars all round the world, a whole new movement. I can’t lose it now.”
Tahra looked at the hunger in his eyes. This project had become the culmination of his life’s work so he’d never let up, he’d push it to its conclusion for better or worse.
“I love you,” he said. “I’d never do anything to harm you, you know that. Trust me.”
“Okay,” she said, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “For you, anything.”
She turned her attention to the television so that she didn’t have to think about the concession she’d just made. An episode of ‘The Twilight Zone’ came on, and she looked at the opening sequence of a spinning door in space, wondering if it was trying to tell her something.
She had to concur, beyond this world lay another dimension of sight and sound, a land of shadow and substance, one of things and ideas. If only the writers of the programme knew. Tahra agreed that she’d just crossed over into the twilight zone.
***
At the end of November 1966, I acted as extra-dimensional guide for Emilie. Nicholas gave her a kiss for good luck and stayed outside to watch. We sat inside the machine, getting familiar with ‘Good Vibrations’ as Paul played it in the main house too, and we wondered what to expect this time. At this stage in the project, Paul was curious to see what results would be produced by shifting the harmonics to the higher end of the range, so it was difficult to predict what kind of world we’d be presented with.
I took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. She still seemed wary of me, but I sensed she started to regard me as someone who can be trusted. Often I wondered why she’d previously disliked me but this day, we put on a professional show and our differences aside, whatever they were.
We soon materialised in yet another world, but one that we soon regretted visiting. This world felt heavy, something like the ‘pea soup’ smogs of London in the fifties. It felt as if your consciousness weighed more, if that makes any sense and it depressed me on arrival. It had a bleak and angry look about it. Pointed towers and large, stark trees of twisted metal punctuated the dark landscape, like a dimension based around an old junkyard. Large birds like vultures with huge wingspans dominated the sky, and swooped down frequently to feed.
I gazed at Emilie and noticed that she already looked horrified at the awful place we found ourselves in.
“Well, I guess we should explore now we’re here,” I said.
“I’m not sure if I want to,” she responded.
“I wonder if anyone lives in this world.”
Emilie looked fearful.
“I think there are people here, I can hear their voices inside my head,” she said.
“What are they saying?”
“You don’t want to know,” she answered, “but they know we’re here.”
It took some courage but we focused on one of the towers, zooming our consciousnesses there instantly. Moving inside, we found some of the entities who resided in this world. I saw foul beings that were disfigured and grotesque, covered in pustules and wizened with age. They brutalised other quite amorphous creatures, who were passive participants in the sick torturous practices we witnessed.
We watched as the disfigured creatures took one of the passive participators, who prostrated themselves on the floor, willingly I may add. Then the foul beings pressed a foot into their back for leverage, took hold of their arms and ripped them out of their sockets, listening to their wail of pain with a sense of sheer and utter delight. I heard their bones crunch and split, which made me feel distinctly nauseous. Looking over at Emilie, I saw how equally repulsed she felt. They repeated the action with the legs, and proceeded to mutilate what was left with a huge machete. There was no artistry involved; it was sheer butchery.
I pulled Emilie out of there, and I didn’t want to see it either. We withdrew to a point on the bleak landscape and found a huge bonfire, which we thought may offer some kind of sanctuary but it was just another form of torture. Beings of different kinds were piled on the fire, still alive and they writhed in agony as they burned. For some reason, I empathised with their pain.
Before we knew it, we lost control of our will. We appeared beside one of the twisted metal trees, where we found some creatures bound to it in the most contorted way. Each were suspended by a branch of a tree, which projected through their torso but their limbs had been forced into a series of unnatural positions, and we saw broken bones protruding through their skin. The vulture-like birds swooped down and picked the flesh from their grotesque wounds.
“I want to be sick,” Emilie said.
I grimaced and answered, “I don’t know if extra-dimensional vomit exists, but I think we’re going to invent it soon.”
Near the twisted tree, we saw a metal edifice that stood tall and it had a wheel placed on top, which was slowly rotated. Contorted bodies were woven into the spokes of the wheel, bones protruding through their skin, faces speared with the spokes of the wheel.
Something pulled us away again against our will to see another despicable sight. Inside other towers were scenes of a more sexual nature. Creatures were tied down with what looked like barbed wire while the disfigured, wizened creatures mutilated their genitals with broken pieces of glass. Other creatures bent over while large, hideous objects with jagged edges were inserted into various orifices.
“I can’t take any more,” Emilie said, clearly distressed.
One of the disfigured creatures shuffled over to us. He seemed to be a prominent figure in this world as he wore some kind of robe. He surveyed us intently, but this time I wasn’t the focal point, Emilie was.
“Do you sense the pleasure?” it said.
She shook her head, and I sensed how terrified she felt.
“Pain is pleasure, torture is ecstasy, and the ripping of flesh is the ultimate euphoria. We know your world and its liking for the pleasure of pain.”
It had a horrible, rasping voice and leered at Emilie.
“Our world is nothing like yours,” I interjected.
The creature sneered at me.
“Do your people not murder each other in the most hideously pleasurable ways? Do you not torture your own children with discipline and degrading sexual acts? Do leaders not find ways to exterminate the undesired populations of your country, and enjoy the sense of power that genocide brings? Does your church not rule with an iron rod of guilt and martyrdom, while it bleeds the population for money to feed its own power and gratifies its insatiable need for the sexual domination of young innocents?” It snarled with lust. “Our worlds are closer than you can imagine.”
It refocused its attention on Emilie.
“The people of your world hear us, we’re in their hearts. Some of you are sensitive enough to hear our voices and we can initiate them into the pleasure of pain. They think they’re receiving instructions from God.” it scoffed vehemently. “Our emissaries are increasing in number every day, and there’s always room for one more.” It stared lustfully at Emilie when speaking these words.
Emilie didn’t like what he inferred, because she heard the voices of others. She looked genuinely frightened and I’d been forced out of my comfort zone too. I had no control here, and we were being bounced around as if we were attached to a piece of elastic. It felt like an eternity waiting for the field to power down but finally it did, and this monstrosity of a world faded from view.
“You’ll return,” we heard the rasping voice seethe.
I looked over at Emilie. She’d clasped her head, clearly distressed so I grasped at her.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I can still hear them, they won’t stop!” she responded, beginning to claw at her ears.
I held her in my arms, realising we shouldn’t have gone to that world.
“Shut them out,” I suggested, panicking.
“They’re in my head!” she almost screamed. “Make them stop!”
Nicholas rushed in and took hold of her hands, then made her look him in the eye. Once he did this, she began to calm down.
“You can make them stop,” he said, calm and loving. “Imagine a door closing.”
“The voices…” she began.
“Are under your control,” he added.
That day, he saved Emilie, he became her rock. Once I realised she was going to be all right, I moved over to the cine camera so that the journey could be evidenced.
“I think we just found Hell,” I summarised.
***
I began to feel like I was reaching my limits, although my concerns fell on deaf ears. Paul saw Emilie’s predicament as a glitch, and didn’t realise how close she had come to pulling out of the project. He insisted I take Beth and Peter to a new world, as we needed to catalogue as many different realms as we could.
“I couldn’t cope with finding another place like the one we just visited,” I informed him.
“Yes, it sounds really sadistic and masochistic,” he responded.
“Let’s make that the last,” I insisted. “Stick with what we know. There are plenty of worlds worth exploring in more depth.”
Paul considered my request.
“One more new world,” he persuaded, “and I swear no more after that. For me?”
He kissed me on the lips and reluctantly, I agreed.
So a week later, I sat in the machine, holding hands with Beth and Peter. ‘Good Vibrations’ gave us a send off, and I hoped for a more positive experience.
I swept up Beth and Peter’s consciousnesses, and we emerged in a dark and formidable world. The light quality seemed artificial, created by an odd luminous orb in the sky. It looked like a sun in some ways, but it emitted an eerie light that seemed manufactured. I saw a host of machines around it, although I couldn’t figure out what they were doing.
Looking over, I found Beth and Peter had taken a familiar form and they appeared to be bewildered by this world.
“Do you want to view the artificial star?” I asked them.
“Will we be safe up there?” Beth asked.
“Don’t worry, you’re with me. We need to give a good report on our return,” I replied.
I scooped them up, focusing my consciousness on the manufactured sun and within a moment, we floated close to one of the machines. A distraction tried to divert my attention when I realised entities piloted the machines, but I decided to focus on the activities at the artificial star first.
The machines penetrated the surface of the sun, a kind of silvery liquid that gave off the eerie iridescent light. Inside the sun, explosions erupted frequently, the sound waves of which were low and booming, reverberating across the deep grey sky. Peter had an idea what they might be doing.
“They could be mining it,” he said, although not a hundred percent certain.
For a split second, I pushed my consciousness inside it to take a look and found an amazing spectacle. At the centre, I saw a huge metallic globe with serpents of electricity running across it. It wasn’t solid metal, it was liquid like the element inside a thermometer and when I looked closely, I noticed it spun on itself like a tornado, or vortex. It began to swell and the electric serpents began to pulse faster and faster. It built up to an explosion and then it contracted again. I understood the process and returned to Beth and Peter, who were relieved to see me again.
“We thought you’d left us, got kidnapped or something,” Beth said.
“I just wanted to confirm what they’re doing,” I explained. “They’re not mining it, they’re feeding it, they’re operating the star.”
Peter looked fascinated.
“Such amazing technology!” he said with utter admiration in his voice. “What our governments would do to get their hands on this!”
A worrying thought flickered across my mind, but I quelled it so it didn’t spoil the visit.
“Let’s scout the rest of this world before the field powers down,” I suggested.
We turned away from the artificial sun to survey the mechanised world itself. Beneath us lay a world so completely artifice, it was stunningly beautiful as well as being so utterly alien and inorganic. We saw a vast plain of metal skyscrapers and towers, each swarming with machines. At the top of some of the towers, vast spindles projected outwards in a spiral and the machines landed and took off from the ends of these. Vast mechanical spiders crawled over the exterior of the buildings, but I couldn’t tell if they were the entities that lived here or some form of transport.
Meanwhile, at ground level, we saw signs of life. The street plan, for want of a better word, looked like the circuit boards that you might find if you took apart a radio, and small machines whizzed along the connecting lines between the different elements that stood proud.
However, something stood out in the distance, a huge elevator. It rose majestically from the ground and projected quite a distance upwards, terminating at some kind of station where machines parked and departed. The shaft of the elevator was thick, and contained about four separate lifts, or capsules.
“Let’s take a look,” I suggested, “see if we can find out what beings live here.”
Beth and Peter agreed, feeling more comfortable in this world now.
We moved towards the station and observed some small people moving from the machines to the lift capsules. They were pale skinned, like a whitish grey and about the size of a seven year old child. These beings wore no clothes, but had nothing to cover up because they had no discernable sexual organs. I indicated to Beth and Peter that we should follow, so I focused on two particular individuals and latched onto them.
The doors of the capsule sealed themselves shut, creating a seamless join and we found ourselves standing in the lift with the entities. We saw them more clearly now. They had huge black eyes, small slits for the nose and barely perceivable ears, which had a sharp tip. Their head was quite broad at the crown, and tapered to a point at the chin.
“They look like elves!” Beth exclaimed, in a whisper.
“Ugly ones too,” Peter added.
I thought for a moment they were aware of our presence, as one of the elves, for want of a better name, looked at us out of the corner of an eye. Neither of them turned their head so I assumed we hadn’t been detected. We watched as they interacted with a small console set into the wall of the lift capsule. A thick beam of whitish-blue light shot out of it and met a point on the entity’s forehead, between where its eyebrows should be. After a few moments, the light beam retracted, and the two entities looked at each other as if in silent communication.
Again, I thought one of them looked at us surreptitiously. At that point, I felt an intense pain in my head. I’d never known such agony and it consumed me totally, so I didn’t notice whether Beth and Peter were affected too. I felt my consciousness sink, as if I were collapsing to the floor and the headache got worse. Accompanying it, I heard an awful roaring sound building to a crescendo.
“Please stop,” I heard myself beg, not knowing whom to address..
I felt as if my head were about to explode and I couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing myself scream, I clutched my head, feeling the roaring, the pounding, and the pain threaten to destroy me mentally.
These elves were trying to kill me.
They sought to destroy my mind.
They wished to annihilate my soul.
As I reached breaking point, this world began to fade. The interior of the machine came into view, and I found myself holding my head in my hands. Paul must have noticed on the monitoring screen as he came rushing in, looking worried. I realised that Beth and Peter were staring at me, but for some reason, they felt no excruciating pain.
“Tahra!” Paul said, urgently.
Slowly, I removed my hands from my head. Despite how scared I felt, the pain no longer existed, although the memory of it did. I looked at Paul and saw the concern in his eyes, but I didn’t want to worry him so I put on a brave smile.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, I just met the machine elves,” I responded, “and they’re not very friendly.”
He didn’t understand what I meant although Beth did. She got up from her seat and put her arm around me.
“I think our guide here needs a stiff drink,” she said, leading me away.
We moved into the main farmhouse and when we entered the lounge, I discovered Max seated on the sofa, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. He began to smile when he saw me, but when he noticed that Beth had her arm around me, his expression changed and he put his newspaper down, rising to his feet.
“Everything all right?” he enquired.
“She needs a few minutes,” Beth explained.
Max dismissed her with a little wave of his hand and we were both alone in the sitting room. Someone else tried to enter the room but Max insisted on my undivided attention for the next ten minutes. The room fell oddly quiet and he gazed at me with genuine concern, so I stood up straight, smiled politely and asked what he wanted to see me about.
He paused, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter.
“It was addressed to me,” he began, “but you need to read it.”
“Who’s it from?” I asked.
“Your parents,” he replied.
It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t written to them all year and I started to feel guilty, but when I read the letter, I realised I should have maintained contact.
“I failed to keep them updated too,” he apologised.
The contents of the letter were badly timed, asking why I hadn’t returned home because they believed I’d finished my course of study, and fulfilled the obligations of the agreement made between Max and my father. I held the letter, not knowing how to respond at first. I thought of how angry my father would be and without warning, I found myself standing before my parents.
“Why hasn’t Mr Richardson telephoned me?” I heard my father say, irately, “He will have received the letter by now!”
“He’s a busy man,” my mother remonstrated. “I’m sure he’ll contact you soon.”
“It is not right!” he complained. “I have a husband here, ready to marry her on return. If I don’t hear from Mr. Richardson in the next two days, we are flying out there!”
I jumped back into my body and found Max clicking his fingers in front of my face.
“Tahra!”
I focused on his face, noting the worried expression.
“You don’t look good,” he told me.
For some reason, tears began to roll down my cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away.
“You don’t have to go back,” he told her. “Just speak the words and I’ll sort this out.” Then he added, in a more subdued tone, “You’re my best asset, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Am I just a business asset to you?” I asked, although I don’t know why I said it.
He didn’t answer affirmative or contradict it, his face remained deadpan. Finally, he responded to my question.
“You don’t have to go back,” he repeated. “You’re too valuable.”
I gathered myself together and declared, “I don’t want to go back. I’m not my father’s little Persian princess any more, I’m my mother’s daughter, a free spirit; a free English spirit.”
Max smiled, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe away from tears.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up a legal and binding contract giving you indefinite stay in this country. Even though you were born here, you still need an income and a home to be independent of your family. Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I said with certainty, “this is my home now.”
However, the tears didn’t stop. Now he stepped up his concern.
“What’s wrong? I need to know, you’re my responsibility.”
Against my deepest principles, I couldn’t help but spill the beans.
“The experiments are…challenging,” I told him. “It’s getting harder to focus, our reality seems less real and the other realities seem more than real. Not all the dimensions are friendly, I was attacked today…and Beth and Peter weren’t…”
Max put his hand to my cheek, and it felt strange to feel something genuine from him again.
“I don’t like what I’m hearing, your safety and happiness are paramount. I’m giving you two weeks leave from the project, regardless of what Paul thinks. He’s pushing you too hard.”
“The project means too much to him…” I began to protest.
“Exactly. It means more to him than your safety. Grab your stuff, I’m taking you back to The Institute for some medical and psychological tests, and plenty of rest. I’ll inform him of my decision while you do that.”
I relented, because I knew he was right. After five minutes, Max whisked me into his car and I looked out the window to see a helpless Paul punch the door of the machine barn. Now the project would be stalled for two weeks. Without me, Project OOBE would sit in limbo, leaving Paul to consolidate the statements and finances, because he couldn’t do anything else. I waved, and he waved back with a sad look in his eyes but it didn’t console him. I began to wonder if this heralded the beginning of the collapse in respect of Paul and Max’s friendship.
As we drove away, I saw the face of the machine elf that had attacked me. I saw it in my mind’s eye very vividly, as if it were stood in front of me. It smiled in a smug kind of way, whilst looking deep into me with those huge, almond black eyes. Why was it so satisfied?
***
It felt strange being in the quiet of The Institute again, with an empty space next to me in bed. On my bedside table, my copy of The Qur’an sat feeling neglected, covered with a thick layer of dust and without any feelings of guilt, I picked it up and placed it in the drawer underneath. I felt more connected to the divine through the machine, and in many ways, I almost felt divine myself.
As I brushed my hair, I looked in the mirror, feeling that my reflection held a deeper truth than the flesh and body I was sometimes trapped in. My eyes were drawn to the slip of paper I’d taped there a while back. In large letters, I saw the word ‘satus’ plus its translation from Latin: seed, or origin. We’d certainly started something, but would we finish what we had begun?
I fell asleep thinking of Paul, worried because the project had stalled for two weeks, it must be so frustrating for him. However, just because I had two weeks to consolidate what I’d been through in the machine, that didn’t ensure a return to normality.
I opened my eyes in the morning to a strange and disturbing sight. At 6:00am. it was still twilight, giving the room an otherworldly feel and the silence created a stranger ambience. Through the cast iron pattern at the foot of my bed frame, I saw a greyish figure crouching, its huge almond black eyes staring at me with a glimmer of satisfaction. I froze in my bed, a cold chill running through my veins as I remembered my one and only encounter with these beings.
It didn’t remain at the foot of my bed. In its crouched position, it scuttled around the bed and began to move closer towards me, those huge black eyes bearing down on me, willing me to meet its gaze. I feared it was going to hurt me again and foolishly, I pulled the bedclothes over my head, as if it would offer some protection like a fabric force field. My heart pounded in my chest, and after what seemed like an eternity, I eventually pulled the bedclothes away from my face.
There was no sign of the machine elf, and I breathed a sigh of relief. These intrusions on my reality were not welcome; would this now be a regular thing? I wasn’t sure I could cope if that was the case.
I dressed in some casual clothes and went downstairs to the communal dining area for breakfast. Max sat at a table, with a newspaper and cup of coffee but other than his presence, I found the room empty. I helped myself to some toast and tea, and sat down at the table with him.
“How are you feeling today?” he enquired, folding his newspaper and placing it on the table.
“Okay, I guess.”
We sat drinking quietly, watching each other, unsure what to say. Max broke the silence.
“So, tell me about the last world that you visited,” he prompted.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, it was a machine world populated by small grey people with big, black eyes. They weren’t very friendly, I don’t know what they did but my head hurt so much it felt like it was going to explode.”
“A machine world?” Max questioned.
“A world of machines and technology, they made an artificial sun and were feeding it energy, or something. I saw a spinning orb at the centre of the sun which kept exploding. I’m not a scientist so I can’t explain it very well.”
“This technology sounds fascinating,” Max said, looking very thoughtful.
“I guess. They certainly knew how to attack me without even touching me,” I added.
Max’s eyes registered how I’d piqued his curiosity.
“This world sounds worth another visit, doesn’t it?” he proposed. “After all, this technology could be very useful for our world.”
I looked at him, realising his business brain was working overtime.
“But they obviously don’t like us, or they wouldn’t have attacked me,” I countered.
“Well, hopefully we can find ways of sending others in without putting you at risk. You are most certainly not expendable.”
I smiled weakly, finished my toast and excused myself. His agenda made me feel uncomfortable. Max’s suggestions could potentially change the driving force of the whole project. Would greed poke its grubby finger in the works from now on?
***
The two weeks passed slowly, interspersed with encounters with The Institute’s residents, who were still required to fulfil contracts set up by Max. Each one I saw, I asked about Paul and how things were going in my absence. The responses were pretty much identical; ‘he’s frustrated’, ‘we’re stuck in limbo until you get back’ and ‘Paul’s not a happy man with the machine sitting idle’.
As I had too much time on my hands, I went shopping, spotting a fantastic twenties style cloche hat. I also found myself in Kensington that day and couldn’t resist popping into the Biba boutique. What an amazing place. It had blacked out windows, and a black and gold shop front. Inside it was dark and moody, very art nouveau and the clothes were so cheap. I walked away with two smocks and a skinny fit jumper.
However, the boredom drove me crazy. Max sensed my frustration so when Emilie stayed over, he gave us some money to go out, along with the use of a chauffeur for the night. Previously, we’d had our differences but since the OOBE project involved everyone at The Institute, the relationship between us had developed into one of trust and camaraderie. I enjoyed the experience of a night out with a woman, it felt liberating to laugh and joke about the shortcomings of men, and discuss the merits of finding a special one.
“So,” I began, tentatively, “is there something going on between you and Nicholas?”
She tried to keep her cool but then burst into a refreshingly child-like giggle.
“Maybe…” she inferred.
I lowered my voice so the chauffeur couldn’t hear.
“Have you had sex with him yet?” I asked, innately inquisitive.
She seemed a little embarrassed at my directness.
Finally she answered, “I think it’s on the cards soon.”
I nudged her and gave her a big smile, although a more protective consideration came to mind.
“Make sure you take precautions,” I whispered. “You can go on the pill now, you know. I don’t think Max would be very pleased if you got pregnant.”
At the sound of his name, she looked down at her lap and shifted awkwardly in her seat. Surely, there had to be history, which would explain why she’d initially disliked me.
“Was there ever anything between you and Max?” I enquired, surprised I’d never noticed this before.
Emilie looked pained but she answered, first with a nod.
“He…took me out to restaurants, bought me flowers just like a perfect gentleman, then I went to bed with him and after that…he ignored me,” she told me.
The story sounded familiar, and a tight sensation gripped my stomach. That had so nearly been my tale too. I felt angry at Max, and cross with myself for almost falling for it. Luckily, I’d not ended up as one of his conquests, like Emilie. Part of me wanted to ask for further details about her experience of sex with him. I must admit, I felt a pang of jealousy but it was overshadowed by the feeling of having had a lucky escape.
“It nearly happened to me too,” I revealed, “but I said no, I didn’t think he was a good man.”
I gave her a hug, and decided not to dwell on the subject as she’d obviously fallen for him at that time and was hurt by the fact that he’d used her, quite callously by the sound of it. Meeting Nicholas offered a positive step for her, he seemed quite genuine and she probably wouldn’t give herself so easily this time.
We went to the cinema, where we childishly flicked popcorn at the irritating people in front who couldn’t keep quiet. I instigated this retaliation. We saw ‘Alfie’, starring Michael Caine, a film about a man who had sex with lots of women. We compared the character to Max, recognising Alfie had redeeming qualities of innocence.
After this, we dined at a small and friendly restaurant, with copious amounts of wine to finish the night. Back at The Institute, we almost fell out of the car onto the street. I saw the curtain of the communal dining room twitch and we stumbled through the door, discovering Max had let us in.
“I take it you had a good evening, ladies,” he said, amused by the sight of two normally serious and focused women happily inebriated.
I gave Max a dirty look, which confused him. Did it not occur to him that women compare notes? I guided Emilie up the stairs to her room, due to her wobbly legs. Max watched us stumble upstairs, saying nothing and I think he retreated to another part of the house. Needless to say, I slept well.
In the morning, Max faced me in the dining room at breakfast while Emilie vomited upstairs. I felt guilty about that, having a higher alcohol tolerance. Max seemed offended after I‘d given him a dirty look last night, but he said nothing about it. In retrospect, I recognised that I hadn’t shown any appreciation for his good willed gesture.
“Thank you for the night out,” I said.
He smiled and looked relieved.
“My pleasure,” he responded.
I didn’t linger, as soon as I finished breakfast I returned to my room, via a knock on Emilie’s door to check she was okay. I spent most of my day reading or talking to Emilie, after she’d recovered. By the evening, the alcohol had been metabolised from my body and my head cleared.
Relaxing on my bed, I counted down my return to Paul. There were five days left and I missed him, I craved the excitement of the journeys in the machine. If anything, my two weeks leave made me realise the importance of Paul and the project.
Because I thought of him, I found my consciousness standing in the kitchen at the farmhouse. Paul was preparing his evening meal, alone, glass of wine at hand. I saw a newspaper on the table, showing a completed crossword. He looked disenchanted with the whole two week leave thing, I could tell by the expression on his face. I stood close to him and wished to hug him, so with my consciousness I reached out and touched his cheek.
He jumped and looked round, as if he expected someone to be there. Was this just a coincidence? To test the theory, I placed my ‘hand’ on his back, gently stroking it. Paul responded as if I’d done this with my physical body.
“Tahra?” he asked, softly.
If only I could answer, what a surprising development in my psychic capabilities. I’d already found the remote viewing experience more vivid and but this time, I’d touched someone and made them aware of my presence. An empowering feeling spread through my body.
Because I couldn’t vocalise my thoughts, I retreated, knowing we’d be reunited in just under a week. As I pulled back, I passed through a chair and the strangest thing happened. It moved as if I’d actually walked into it, making a scraping noise on the terracotta tiles. At this point, I stopped and looked at Paul’s reaction. He watched the chair intently.
Had I imagined it?
I passed through the chair again and it responded in the same way, scraping along the floor.
“Who’s there?” he called out. “Is that you, Tahra?”
I wanted to respond, although didn’t know how. Withdrawing my consciousness and returning to my bed, my eyes snapped open, a big smile on my face. I could remote view and affect the environment now. The side effects of the machine started to pay dividends. A sense of power and awe came over me, and I began to realise this was the beginning of something else.