Chapter
7.
By the time Frank sat down to drink his
morning coffee, Jack had already done
six newscasts. Jack's voice poured out of the kitchen radio as Frank took
his first sip.
"This is WEGO news. I'm Jack Plantir,
good morning.
"The murder toll in Carthage continues
to mount with the grisly discovery
this morning of the body of another beheaded woman - the sixth such
beheading death and the valley's 58th homicide this year...."
Jack had lucked into the radio news job.
He'd actually begun as a part-time
board operator and the host of an overnight blues program while a graduate
student. One morning the newscaster had not shown up. After repeated
phone calls to the newscaster's home, Jack threw together and delivered
a newscast.
The station manager heard the newscast,
called, and found out what happened. The manager fired the newscaster and Jack
had a new duty attached to his job description.
Three months later, Jack gave notice
because he was graduating. The manager,
however, said he was impressed by what he'd done when he did the news,
and asked if he wanted the morning newscaster's job.
Jack had always imagined he would have to
begin his radio career at a small
town station reading the hog prices. So he jumped at the chance.
Three years - and several awards - later, he
was the assistant news director.
And with the news director scheduled to leave in six months for National
Public Radio, Jack was in line to take over his duties.
After showering, Frank headed down to the
university. He flipped on
the radio as he drove.
A loud and rough-edged rock tune filled the
car. He checked the dial. Yes,
it was the public radio frequency. Must be an arts segment, he thought.
The reporter announced the name of the band
- Coven 13 - and began interviewing the lead singer.
"Only three of us are wicca," the singer said in a voice edged with boredom.
"Wicca?" the interviewer asked.
"Yeah, you know, witches.”
"Hence the band's name and some of the
occult symbols you use in your show."
"Yeah, we use some, like 666, upside
down crosses. But we don't try to cast spells or anything, You don't mess with
that. The magic can come back on you, and, you know, that can be bad..."
Frank flipped off the radio, snorting as he
did so.
Back in college, they'd had a sorority that
got into witchcraft, more as an alternative to what they called "patriarchal
religions" than any serious attempt to learn what witchcraft was really
about. Mostly, they had fooled around with Ouija boards, held a couple of
seances, played with tarot cards and astrology, and gave great Halloween
parties.
Frank recalled one friend who'd joined the
sorority. She'd been into numerology - an occult art that relied on numbers. It
included a complicated formula to figure out the number value of a person's
name, address, birthday and so on.
"You are a nine," the friend had
informed him.
"What's that mean?"
"Nine is a number of great spiritual
achievement," she'd said, consulting a book. "It is a number of
initiation because it marks the end of one spiritual development and the
beginning of another. Nines are concerned with serving humanity, and, um, it's
also associated with casting out ghosts.
"Hey, it's also an amorous number,
associated with male sexuality," she'd added, smiling. That had ended the
explanation.
The memory brought back, as it always did,
an old Beatles song.
"Number nine. Number nine. Number
nine...."
Suddenly, the car in front of Frank's
swerved. His eye was drawn to the pedestrian bridge above the road where a man
had begun urinating on the cars passing below. Frank swerved in time to avoid getting
sprayed.
Stupid kid, Frank muttered under his
breath. He thought of some choicer words, but then laughed. Such words didn't
quite fit in with great spiritual achievement.
Frank found a parking space next to the
student life center, which housed the radio station on its top floor.
Frank made the rounds of administrative
offices, paying bills, making sure he was registered, and buying books. By the
time he stopped back at his car to dump off books, it was close to 11.
He headed up to the station to meet Jack.
Frank was surprised at how cluttered the
station offices were. There were piles of paper on desks, computers and floors.
There were also piles of CDs, DATs, dirty dishes, and just about everything else.
A young woman chewing gum sat at one desk
staring into a computer screen. Over her shoulder, Jack read a news story she
was working on.
"Um," he said, "can you tell
me where Jack Plantir is?"
She looked at him and snapped her gum.
"He's in doing the talk show,"
she said in a bored voice, pointing vaguely down the hall.
Frank headed in the direction she'd indicated.
He spotted Jack behind a huge plate glass window. He was sitting at a table
that had several microphones jutting up - one of them aimed at Jack.
Opposite Jack was a man facing another
microphone.
"And that is where the misunderstanding
comes in," the man said in a deep
voice that sounded smooth and rational. But there was also something cold and
metallic about it.
Frank craned his neck to see the man.
"People make assumptions without
reading the actual description of the research," the man continued. His
face was narrow, angular, with planes and shadows beneath black, neatly combed
hair and deep-set eyes whose color eluded Jack. He was dressed in a dark blue
suit, a white shirt, a dark blue tie.
Nondescript. That was the word that came to
Jack's mind. Yet there was something about that face, that voice.
"We are not grave robbers - as someone
fancifully put it," the man said. "Nor do we try to promote evil,
Satanism, witchcraft, whatever else some fundamentalist types choose to say
about us.
"We are simply interested in
discovering the little known, the unknown, in the human mind. It's a basic part
of human nature to want to know more, to explore. But instead of roving through
jungles, we try to tap into the brain."
"I'm Jack Plantir," Jack said.
"And you're listening to `Free Speech,' WEGO's forum where you, the
listener, get to hear and speak with people in the news. Our guest this hour,
Dr. Eric Soehner, director of the Institute for Numenal Studies at the
University of Carthage. And we have a caller on line one."
"I think what you are doing is
wrong," began the wavering voice of an older woman. "You're fooling
around with powers, with witchcraft."
Dr. Soehner gave Jack a look that suggested,
"Here we go again."
But he spoke calmly.
"Our research is not intended to fool
around with powers," Dr. Soehner said. "It is, rather, simply to
understand what lies in the depths of the mind. But if there are indeed powers
there, where is the evil in tapping the gifts God or nature or whatever gave
us?"
"Isn't it true that you sent out word
for psychics to be part of this? And witches?" the woman persisted.
"Yes, we did invite people who claim
to have paranormal abilities," Soehner said. "But that only makes
sense in that if there are powers, and if these people are honest about their
abilities, they would provide a good starting point. Through them, we could
potentially discover what, if any, areas of the brain are involved, and why
they seem to manifest these abilities while other people do not. If we could
discover what allows them to do the things they claim to be able to do, then
perhaps we can discover if other people might tap the same resources."
"You are messing with things you don't
understand. That's the way the devil works," the woman snapped, then hung
up.
"Actually, that caller did raise some
issues that have troubled some people in our community," Jack said without
a beat. "There have been several letters to the editor about the
institute."
"Again, our focus is on
psychologically and perhaps physically-based abilities, not the
spiritual," Soehner said.
"But doesn't the institute's name
itself open you to questions about the spiritual? After all, numenal refers to
the soul or spirit. Why not the Institute for Para-normal or Psychic
Studies?"
"Simply because those names are
already being used by other organizations," Soehner said. "And when
we use `numenal' we mean soul not in the spiritual sense, but in the
psychiatric sense. The `animus,' as Jung referred to it, or perhaps simply the
non-physical. There's nothing religious about what we are doing.
"I was also wondering," Jack
continued. "In your response to that woman, and indeed in all of your answers,
you have carefully qualified your remarks. Everything is `if.' Have you found
any evidence to support the existence of any of the abilities you are searching
for?"
"An interesting question,"
Soehner said. "Evidence? Perhaps `suggestions' would be a better word. We
have in some people found suggestions of something there. For example, in
simple tests of subjects guessing cards being held up unseen by researchers in
other rooms, we have found a few individuals who guess at a rate above the rate
we would expect by chance. But what does that mean? That they might be people
you wouldn't want to play cards against? The results are not such that they
would indicate anything that could be studied in a scientific way."
"And," Jack said, "we have a
caller on line three."
"I was one of the test subjects,"
said the voice of a young woman. "You did more than just test cards - and
I was one of the people who guessed at a rate above normal.
"There were others tests involving
monitoring dreams, sleep deprivation, transmission of messages, projecting
emotions...." the woman continued.
"All standard paranormal tests,"
Soehner interjected.
"Yes, but what about the attempts to
contact the dead?" the woman said.
"I am aware of no such attempts,"
Soehner said. As he spoke he closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate. Maybe
he's trying to remember if there were any such attempts, Frank wondered.
"Then why was I put in contact with
objects belonging to dead people?"
Soehner suddenly opened his eyes and
smiled. The look in his eyes gave lie to his smile. A chill passed through
Frank.
"Ah, those studies," Soehner said
calmly. "They were simply objects that belonged to other people, to see if
the test subject could receive any sense of the owner. It's also a standard
test."
"Then why was I given mostly objects
belonging to dead people?"
"There may have been some objects
belonging to dead people, but certainly the overall test did not focus on such
objects," Soehner said. "Moreover, the owner's identities were never
revealed, and any assumption on your part that they belonged to dead people is
pure conjecture."
"Fact, not conjecture," the woman
said. "I didn't tell your researcher at the time, and I could sense his
visible disappointment when I didn't say anything. And you know what I mean by
sense. I knew the direction the tests were taking, and I wanted nothing more to
do with them. Why do you want to contact the dead?"
"I have no desire to contact the
dead," Soehner said. "My focus is on extra-normal abilities. And I'm
sorry you were not honest in the tests, as that only makes it harder to come up
with accurate results."
"I think honesty is a commodity much
lacking in connection with this whole project," the woman said. "Oh,
and by the way, you should try to vary your color scheme more. Maybe a colored
shirt rather than that white one, or a brighter tie rather than dark
blue."
She hung up. Jack laughed.
"I'd like to point out to our
listeners that that caller accurately described what our guest is
wearing," Jack said. "Perhaps an example of the kinds of abilities
your researchers are exploring, Dr. Soehner?"
"More likely a comment from someone
who saw me earlier today, or who has seen me enough to know that I tend to dress
this way every day," Soehner said.
"Still," Jack continued,
"the caller did raise an interesting point. She is not the first to report
that the research takes in attempts to contact the dead."
"I suspect such claims come largely
from people who speculate about our research, and certainly not from those have
taken part in it," Soehner said.
"And what about reports from people
who claim to have seen INS personnel going into local graveyards with
equipment? And one witness said a test subject being led blindfolded into cemetery
and tests being conducted next to a new grave."
"I know of no such tests,"
Soehner said. "I would very much be interested in speaking with the
individuals making such claims."
"There is one claim I would like to
address before our time runs out," Jack continued. "INS' financial
report from last year indicates that some 60 percent of your budget comes from
the U.S. government, primarily from departments with ties to the Pentagon. Is
there potential military potential of your research?"
"Our intent is not to discover
military potential. But some military leaders believe that if, for example, we
can find ways to communicate with other people without needing radios or other
equipment, or if we can somehow affect enemy soldiers minds so that they don't
see reality accurately - say prevent them from seeing approaching troops, or
make them see troops that are not there, it might be of some value.
"Moreover, Soviet scientists - back
when the Soviet Union still existed - were conducting tests for the Soviet
military."
"So in a sense some of our military
leaders might have been afraid of a psychic gap," Jack quipped.
"Perhaps so," Soehner said.
"And on that note, we've run out of
time on today's edition of Free Speech. I'd like to thank our guest, Dr. Eric
Soehner of the Institute for Numenal Studies for being out guest, and I'd like
to thank all of you for listening. Be sure to tune in tomorrow when we have
Fred Toner back again to tell us more about antiques - and about the treasures
to be found at garage sales. Take care.”
The red light over the door clicked off as
the mikes in the room went dead. Jack stood up, shook Soehner's hand, and said
something, laughing as he did. Soehner smiled back sourly.
They came through the door into the hall
still talking.
"Oh, Frank, did you get a chance to
listen in?" Jack said. "This is Dr. Soehner of the Institute for
Numenal Studies."
"Yes, I did," Frank said,
extending his hand. "Nice to meet you."
As they shook, Frank felt an electric shock
flow up his arm. His heart seemed to leap. He involuntarily tried to pull his
hand back. But Soehner held tightly.
Soehner studied Frank's face and smiled.
Thinking about it later, Frank could only describe the smile as the kind he
imagined a spider might make as it approaches a fly caught in its web.
"A pleasure," Soehner said,
finally releasing Frank’s hand. "Perhaps you'd like to stop by the
institute some time. Will you be here long?"
"I'm just up for some summer
studies," Frank responded, discretely flexing his hand trying to get rid
of the tingling that lingered in it. "I don't know if I'll have time. But
thanks for asking."
"Think it over," Soehner said,
before abruptly turning to Jack. "And thank you for having me on your
show. I hope it cleared up some people's misconceptions."
"Thanks for being on," Jack said.
"I'm sure you've given people plenty to think over."
Soehner turned and headed down the hall,
disappearing around a corner.
Jack looked at Frank.
"What happened there when he shook
your hand?"
"I don't know. I've never felt
anything like it. He gives me the willies."
"He gives a lot of people "the
willies." Is that one of those quaint western New York sayings?"
"Is the Institute of Nume...."
"Numenal Studies," Jack finished.
"Yes, that's the place I told you about. Someday, I'm going to dig out
what really is going on in there."
"By the way, you said something to
him, and he gave you a sour look before you guys came out of the room. What was
that about.”
"Oh, I said considering the way the
murder rate was in town these days, that caller who challenged him about the
dead might come in even closer contact with them sooner than she thinks."
"He didn't appreciate that."
"No, and that makes me wonder.
"About what?"
"Nothing. Not yet, anyway. But now,
how about some lunch? I have someone I want you to meet."
"Who?"
"A secret. Off to the dining hall to
meet your fate."
"My fate?"
"You'll see," Jack said
mysteriously, and headed down the hall.
Frank flexed his hand again, and followed.
Pax et bonum
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