Headaches are common when trying to get your head around the idea of a black hole or even a supermassive black hole, for that matter. There is actually a supermassive black hole located near the constellation Sagittarius A, which is in the Milky Way galaxy and just near my star sign, Sagittarius. That had to be a bad omen. I missed that one.
So what happens if you enter a black hole? Are you simply trapped inside, looking out as if you’re in a giant bubble? No, that would just be an inconvenience. You could fold out a deckchair and watch the pretty lights of space blink at you. No, a human would fall into the black hole and be crushed to an infinite density, joining its region of gravitational singularity. That is a wonderful place where the spacetime curvature becomes infinite.
When you die, I wonder if you’re granted an opportunity to look back and hypothesise where your own event horizon might have been. That invisible moment when you crossed a line from which you couldn’t return. And if you do pinpoint it, are you free from the shackles of regret? This idea is something I’ve considered before and I’m sitting here considering it again. I consider it a third time when I find a section in this private library on religion and theology. I pick up a dusty, time-stained old book called Believe It Or Not: The History of Religion.
My interest is gripped rather savagely when I read the opening line. “At no point will this book argue that the idea of Earth is not wonderful.”
Chapter Thirteen
After I’ve paced back and forth across my living room for about ten minutes, Rose starts to stress.
“Is everything ok?” she asks. “Did I offend you somehow?”
“No, no, not at all. Don’t be silly,” I say.
“Ok,” says Rose. She looks up at me with her lost eyes. I suddenly feel very cruel, as if it really is me that’s responsible for these missing girls. They’re out there somewhere under some false impression. A lie spun from my own web of deceit.
I return to the couch, sitting close to Rose. “I need to be honest with you,” I say, “and I need you to accept everything I say as the truth. Ok?”
“Yes, of course,” she says.
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise. I swear,” she says, solemnly.
A word is half way up my throat when something stops it. A sharp, earnest knock at my apartment door. Rose and I freeze, both turning to stare. We’re silent. I don’t dare move. Then we hear it again. This time it’s a slow little rhythm, five knocks playing out in either jest or calculated menace.
I leave Rose’s side and move across to the door. Peering through the spyhole, I see someone standing there that I completely did not expect to show up at such an inappropriate time.
“Don’t pretend to be asleep, Jack,” calls Jennifer Fox, in a singsong voice. “We both know you don’t sleep.”
I swing open the door, feigning casual surprise. “Jennifer, wow, what are you doing here? This is like… so… unexpected, but great.”
“Nice haircut,” she says. “You look hot.”
“Thanks,” I say, running a head over my shaved head. “What brings you here?”
“I was in the neighbourhood,” she smiles. Jennifer is wearing make-up, her hair hangs long and jet-black and her famous body, tacked to millions of teenager’s walls around the world, is hidden beneath a pair of black, skin-tight leggings and an equally black, tattered rock t-shirt. I think it’s a Known Associates design, but I try not to stare at her chest area. Her tanned midriff is showing too. Jennifer Fox. On my doorstep. In the flesh.
“In the neighbourhood?” I ask.
“Well, I was in the building. I was actually on the twenty-first floor. At a twenty-first birthday. How about that?”
“How about that,” I reply.
“The party was kind of fun, but when I realised they weren’t going to get all that drunk, I skipped out of there.”
“What were you doing at a twenty-first?”
“She’s my publicist’s sister.”
“And she knows I live here?”
“My agent mentioned you live on the top floor of this building. It wouldn’t let me come up in the elevator, so I politely asked one of the guards in the foyer to grant me access.”
“Well… that was very polite of you.”
Jennifer smiles and reveals her pearly whites. Her blue eyes glimmer. I realise at this point that I’m not going to be able to tell her she can’t come in. I can smell an expensive perfume, but there’s also the faint punch of spirits on her breath. Maybe vodkai. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asks.
“Sure…” I say, smiling. “It’s just a little awkward.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“I’ve actually got company.”
“Oh, right. I see.” Jennifer tries to glance over my shoulder. “Is she pretty?”
“Uh, yes. She’s very pretty.”
“Is she open-minded?”
The irony of the question moulds my cheeks into a smile. “You have no idea.”
“Good,” she smiles, and pushes past me into the apartment.
In the living room, Rose’s eyes fall on Jennifer and they widen at the sight of my celebrity acquaintance.
“Hi, I’m Jen,” says Jennifer. She offers a small wave.
“Yes, I know,” smiles Rose.
“Jen, this is Rose,” I say. “She works at a café I frequent.”
“Nice,” says Jennifer. To Rose she asks, “I bet he’s your favourite customer.”
“Very much,” nods Rose, with a slight laugh.
I realise that this conversation could get very weird. It’s been less than an hour since I saved Rose from the hands of what I can only assume is a cult. A cult that takes girls under pretense. It’s not something you can explain in an off-the-cuff manner.
“Rose, could you excuse us for a moment? Sorry to leave you alone, but I have to show Jennifer something,” I say. “Won’t take more than a minute.”
“Oh, ok,” says Rose, with a smile.
Jennifer gives me an odd glance as I grab her hand and lead her up the hallway to my bedroom, closing the door behind us.
“So what’s going on here, Jack? Is Rose, like, your next victim or something?”
“Not funny,” I reply.
“Why haven’t you kidnapped me yet? I’m a little offended.”
“Listen, I’m going to try to make this quick, but I need you to believe every single word I say, without hesitation.”
Jennifer nods. “I’m listening.”
“Rose thinks I’m… the Messiah.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“She literally thinks I’m the Messiah. She thinks I’m… the son of God. Well... I'm not sure if she thinks that, specifically. But, at the very least, Rose thinks I am a Messiah… of some description.”
“Wow, that’s quite a pedestal,” smiles Jennifer. “So she’s a groupie?”
“Not just a groupie, Jen. Someone has convinced her that I’m the freakin’ Messiah. The same people that are taking these girls. I rescued Rose tonight from a group of men.”
Jennifer’s expression indicates that she believes me. “Serious?”
“Serious.”
“If you’re joking with me, Jack, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
“I swear to… I swear I’m not joking.”
“So men tried to kidnap Rose?”
“Yeah, but she was going willingly. She thought that I had sent someone to collect her.”
“Jack, you have to go to the police.”
“How can I? Rose thinks I’m the one that’s choosing these girls. All the girls think that I’m somehow involved. It doesn’t look very good.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have to tell her the truth.”
“That seems fair.”
“I’m hoping she can tell me something that might explain where these disciples are.”
“Disciples?” asks Jennifer. “Fuck, it’s bad enough having fans
.”
“Whatever they’ve been telling Rose, it has brain-washed her. Maybe you can help me convince her that she’s been tricked.”
“Jack… seriously, I think you need to go to the police. When they hear her story, it might help them out. They might know stuff that you don’t know.”
“I’ve read the papers and they clearly have no idea what’s going on.”
Jennifer shakes her head. She seems a little worried. “We shouldn’t fuck around with this poor girl.”
“But if you’re backing me up, she’ll believe us. We’re celebrities. People only listen to celebrities.”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “I’ve been hired to convince people to buy acne medication, cotton panties, soft drink and dietary supplements. I’ve never tried to tell someone to alter their spiritual beliefs.”
“Think of it as your first serious acting role.”
“Fuck off,” says Jennifer, connecting her fist with my shoulder. “You can be such an arsehole.”
“Seriously, Jen. Please do me this favour. I will owe you. I will owe you two favours.”
Jennifer stares at me contemplatively, then says, “Five favours.”
“Five favours? For one favour?”
“Yep, that seems fair to me.”
I don’t have much choice. “Deal. Five favours. No fine print.”
Jennifer smiles with smug satisfaction. There are uglier people I could be indebted to. That is a small comfort. “I own you now, Jack.”
“Only if you help me convince Rose.”
“Trust me, I’ll have no trouble convincing someone not to like you,” she says. When I turn to open the bedroom doors, she adds, “This party is already much better than the twenty-first.”
When we return to the living room, Rose is flicking through one of the magazines on my coffee table. It’s an issue of Infamy with their fifty most attractive people of the year. I beat Jennifer Fox to the number one spot for a second consecutive year. Dylan was third, which he was not too happy about. It’s a great position to get. Third place shouldn’t be scoffed at. But the woman journalist did make the fairly backhanded remark, “Dylan is an amazing guitarist, but he plays second fiddle when his lead singer is around. We’d still take him home in a heartbeat.”
Jennifer sits next to Rose on the couch and I sit in an adjacent single-seater.
“Rose, there’s something I need to tell you… what you’ve been told in regard to me being… the Messiah… it’s not entirely true,” I say.
“It’s entirely untrue,” adds Jennifer.
Rose looks at Jennifer, then back at me, then back to Jennifer again. She gives a nervous smile. “What do you mean?”
“Someone has been tricking you. It’s the same people who have been taking the other girls.”
“But…” says Rose, looking perplexed, “you’ve been choosing us… is this a test?”
“No,” I reply. “It’s not a test.”
“Are you testing my faith?” she asks.
“No, definitely not. This is not a test, trust me,” I say.
“Have you ever had direct contact with Jack? When receiving messages from these people?” asks Jennifer.
“No…” replies Rose, “just letters. Videos. Messages from some of the other girls.”
“They weren’t sent with my permission or knowledge,” I say.
“But the men who were picking me up tonight knew you,” says Rose, insistently. “They were scared of you. You stabbed one of them and they didn’t even retaliate.”
“They recognised me because I’m famous!” I say.
“You stabbed one of them?” Jennifer asks me.
I groan. “Barely. It was just in the back.”
Jennifer raises her immaculately waxed eyebrows. “You stabbed someone in the back?”
“I didn’t stab anyone! It was a jab. A light jab.”
“What’s the difference between a stab and a jab?” probes Jennifer.
“Fuck, I don’t know. A few inches?” I reply. “I’m not a fucking forensic pathologist.”
Jennifer looks at me with concern, then turns to Rose. “What videos are you talking about?”
“They sent me videos on discs. The first was the video of Jack bringing the girl back to life. That’s what first made me realise his power.”
“What’s she talking about, Jack?” Jennifer asks.
“I have no idea,” I reply, even though I kind of do.
“I have the video here, I can show you,” says Rose. “Jack told me to bring everything with me. Everything I’d been sent.”
“That wasn’t me,” I say, shaking my head.
“So you have the videos here?” asks Jennifer, her voice tinged with excitement.
“Yes, they’re in my bag,” says Rose, gesturing at the hand luggage sitting on my kitchen counter.
“This is heavy,” says Jennifer. “We have to watch them.”
“Not a good idea,” I say.
“I thought we were figuring this out?” says Jennifer. “Investigating?”
“Sure… but...” I say. I don’t have any reason against it. I just feel very uncomfortable.
“Rose, sweetie,” says Jennifer, calmly. “Grab the videos and we’ll watch them.”
“We can’t,” I say. “My player is broken.”
“We can watch them on your computer then,” pushes Jennifer.
“Broken,” I shrug.
“You fucking liar! What are you so worried about?”
“I don’t know… the aging process, climate change, the stock market…”
“Fuck off,” laughs Jennifer. “We’re watching these damn videos.”
“Yes,” Rose chimes in. “I think it would demonstrate why I’m not wrong about Jack.”
“See?” Jennifer says to me, smugly. “We will be able to see where Rose is coming from here.”
“Jen,” I reply, trying to stem my anger. “It doesn’t matter what is on the damn video. I’m not a redeemer. I’m not anointed by God. Nor am I a saviour.”
“Are you sure?” asks Rose.
“Yes,” I nod, adamantly. “I haven’t been chilling out at God’s right hand, waiting to return. I’ve just been doing a lot of acid.”
“But I’ve seen what you can do,” says Rose, shaking her head. “You are here and your followers have been invited to spend eternity in your new world. The realm of your creation. You have descended in flesh and now dwell among us.”
I let out a laugh, which sounds more mocking than I intend. “That’s very flattering, but…”
“There’s proof in my bag,” adds Rose, defiantly.
“Let’s see the proof,” says Jennifer.
“You’re meant to be helping,” I say.
“I know, but I want to see what Rose is talking about. I might be making a fool of myself.”
“But I’m not the Messiah!” I yell.
“Well maybe you are, Jack! Rose seems pretty normal,” replies Jennifer.
“Yes, she is normal. She’s also deluded.”
Rose looks on edge, like a child in the same room as her parents’ argument. She says softly, “Why don’t I just go and get the evidence from my bag.”
“Marvellous,” I say, leaping from my chair and marching to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of scotch from the cupboard, open the lid and swig a mouthful. The burn descends my gullet and calms me slightly. I rest my hands on the counter and close my eyes, hanging my head. I take deep breaths. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea that Jennifer sees Rose’s evidence. It will thicken an already sludge-like plot.
“This is very exciting,” I hear Jennifer say behind me. I hear Rose unzip and rummage through her bag on the breakfast bar. Then Jennifer adds, “Actually, I really need to be high before I see this. I’m way too clear-headed. Jack, have you got anything? Pills? Cane?”
Without opening my eyes or lifting my head, I raise an arm and point across the kitchen to three ceramic pots that sit on the counter next to the hotplates, pushe
d back against the wall. “Cane,” I say. When I turn around Jennifer has already reached the pots. They have cork lids and are labelled “Salt”, “Sugar” and “Flour”. Each has about a three-litre capacity.
“Which one?” asks Jennifer.
“Flour,” I reply, looking up at her.
Jennifer picks up the ceramic receptacle and uses all her strength to pull the cork from its hole. She looks inside, confused. “There’s just flour in here,” she says. “Heaps of it.”
“No there’s not,” I say.
“Is it… buried?” she asks.
“Is what buried?” I reply.
“The cane? Is it hidden?”
“No,” I say. “You’re looking at it.”
Jennifer looks into the pot, her eyes widen. “Fuck off. Are you serious?” She reaches in a finger, dabs it in the white powder and licks it. She tastes for a moment. “Holy shit, my tongue just went numb. I’ve never seen so much cane in my life.”
“You never know when you’ll be in the mood to bake,” I shrug and return to my single-seater with the scotch bottle held firmly in my fist.
Rose returns to the couch and sits down, a number of pieces of paper on her lap. I can see she’s holding a few discs too. I swig the scotch, eyeing Rose’s potentially damning possessions, listening to the sound of Jennifer snorting fingertips of cane up her perfect nostrils. When Jennifer returns to the sofa she’s wiping her nose with the back of a finger. She then asks Rose to hand her the disc that she thinks we should watch first. When Jennifer ventures over to my entertainment unit, pushing the disc into the player, I’m almost too grumpy to inspect the toned curvature of her buttocks through the thin fabric of her leggings. Jennifer looks back at me with a wicked smile. She’s not oblivious to the acuteness of her current stance and the view it provides me. She’s also taking delight in making me squirm. Making us watch this damn video.
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