by Greg Krojac
“I suppose so… but it’s a big step to take.”
“We’re on the cusp of something big here Aaron, something world-changing. And you have a chance to be part of it. Actually, you’re already part of it.”
Aaron felt secretly proud that he was at the fore of such an important discovery.
“So what now?”
“We chose a media presenter, a highly respected media journalist in his own right and offered him the same opportunity that we offered you. The main difference between you and the journalist is that his experience is all on film. We’re going to show the world the truth. We will allow, nay request, that authorities verify the film’s authenticity, that no editing or trick photography has been used. We’ll offer ourselves to the highest scrutiny by lie-detector or whatever the FBI, MI5, or whatever the security agencies are using now, on the written understanding that if they find nothing untoward, criminally negligent, or dangerous to the state or nation where we are, they allow us to leave their premises unhindered and as free men or women”
“What then?”
“Then the world can keep on turning, people will continue to be born and to die, but this time with a new scientific fact to consider when living their lives. The world didn’t end because Christopher Columbus didn’t sail off the edge of the world. We want you to appear on a TV show with us, to lend a sense of gravitas as it were. You do believe what we’ve shown you don’t you?”
“I tried not to believe it – I am a scientist after all – but, I have to admit that the evidence is pretty compelling.”
“So, get your glad rags out, have a haircut if you feel the need and I’ll see you at the TV studios tomorrow evening. I’ll email you the details. And don’t worry. Just tell the truth. We’re not trying to hide anything. Far from it. See you tomorrow.”
The line went dead. Aaron felt strange. For decades he’d been researching reincarnation and, at last, he’d been shown compelling proof of its existence. He should have felt elated. His belief that we don’t just die and disappear into nothingness was being vindicated. But his pleasure was diminished by a slight disappointment that it wasn’t he who had proved reincarnation. All the hours that he’d put into his research, all his effort had come to nothing. He could only take refuge in the fact that he was at least involved in this revelation. He decided to take the rest of the day off - he needed time to reflect.
CHAPTER FIVE
18:00 FRIDAY 22 MAY 2015
Aaron’s emerald green Ford Focus pulled up at the black and yellow striped barrier the guarding the entrance to the television studios. He handed the security guard a copy of the email of invitation that had been sent to him, which the guard opened, read, and handed back to the scientist.
“Thank you, sir. Please park over in area H. You’ll see the entrance to the main studio building a little to the right. It’s all well-signposted. Good day, sir.”
Aaron thanked him and drove slowly over to where the security official had indicated. He parked the car, got out, straightened his tie, and closed the car door. The car chirruped at him as he pressed the lock button on his key-fob.
Pushing the smoked glass door, he entered the building and saw a modern reception desk on the right, at which was seated an attractive young woman with long red hair, designer spectacles perched on her nose. She looked up from a book she was reading. Her nose twitched almost unperceivably as she smiled at the visitor.
“May I help you, sir?”
Aaron was captivated for a moment by her sparkling green eyes.
“Erm, yes, please. Thank you.”
He peered at the name badge that was attached to the lapel of her navy blue jacket.
“Yes, Annabel. My name is Aaron. Aaron Hunt. I’m here to meet with Thomas McCall. We’re being interviewed by Brendan Ford for his Friday night show.”
“Just one minute please.”
Annabel checked the schedule on the computer monitor.
“Certainly, sir. Just attach this lapel-badge to your jacket and enter lift number two. You want floor 6, room 602. There you’ll meet Mr Ford for a few minutes before going to make-up and then the green room. You don’t need to knock. They’re expecting you.”
Aaron found the idea of having to wear make-up unusual but knew that it was necessary to reduce glare under the studio lights. He went up to the sixth floor, found the room, and knocked on the door, not so much expecting a response but more as an act of politeness. Opening the door he saw Tom McCall sitting on a two-seater leather sofa opposite Brendan Ford, on a similar sofa. Brendan stood up and held out both hands to greet Aaron.
“Hello, Aaron. I’ve only just got here myself. Here, have a drink. Anything you like. It’s on me. Well, it’s on the production company actually.”
“Just water will be fine, thanks.”
“Fair enough. Carla. A glass of water for Aaron, please. I may call you Aaron, may I?”
“Of course.”
Aaron had never been on television in his life and didn’t want to risk making a fool of himself by drinking alcohol before the interview. He knew of Brendan Ford of course. Everybody knew who Brendan Ford was. He was one of the top TV talk show hosts and had a reputation for being a pretty tough interviewer when required. He could also turn on the charm in the blink of an eye. Proud of the fact that he could think on his feet and didn’t need a team of writers behind him to create his jokes, he was naturally funny, good-natured and felt equally at ease whether interviewing a high-ranking politician, a Hollywood superstar, or an old woman who ran a cat refuge. Aaron took his place alongside Tom on the sofa, as Tom took a sip from a half-full whisky glass. Brendan nodded his approval.
“Lovely. You can’t beat a shot or two of Jack Daniels before going on stage. Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger, Aaron? It’ll ease any nerves.”
Aaron shook his head.
“I’m fine thanks. Honestly.”
Brendan continued his briefing.
I’m not going to ask you any relevant questions now. I’ll leave that until the cameras are running. You do know that this show goes out live, do you?”
He didn’t wait for a response.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes. When you hear the intro music to the show that means there’s about five minutes before you’ll be called onstage. I’ll introduce the show and have a little banter with the band. I’m sure you’ve seen the show before. It’s roughly the same format as the Jonathan Ross show, Graham Norton etc. Except that my audience figures are higher at the moment. And don’t forget that I experienced pretty much the same as you did twenty-five years or so ago. And this week my contact came back to visit me. I’m 99.9% on board. I saw things with my own eyes. When I introduce you - you’ll hear it via the speaker in the green room - that’s when you come onstage. Carla will direct you. And whatever you do, don’t trip over the cables. That new teen idol tripped over them a few weeks ago and broke his nose. Not such a pretty boy now.
“Anyway, I can’t tell you what questions I’ll be asking. I wing it you see. No script. More honest that way. But I’m not going to try to catch you out with any trick questions either. I’m on board, don’t forget that. Any questions before I get my nose etc. powdered? No? Good. See you in about 30 minutes.”
And with that, he slid out of the room. Tom looked at Aaron.
“Well. This is it, Aaron. Nervous?”
“A little. Never been on TV before.”
“Me neither. But it’s got to be better than going to the dentist.”
Two girls came into the room and went over to where two chairs were positioned in front of two large mirrors.
“Ready when you are, boys.”
***
Five minutes later the scientist and the Recarn were ready for the cameras. Aaron had been secretly worried that he might end up looking ridiculous but, in reality, he didn’t look very different at all - just not so shiny.
Carla led them to the green room where they settled down to watch Brendan s
tart the show on a large wall-mounted 80 inch TV monitor. A disembodied voice announced the arrival of the show’s host, and Brendan bounded on stage, sliding the last few feet as a child might slide on an icy pavement. He gave a large smile to the cameras.
“Hello, good evening, and welcome to Ford On Friday! That’s another ten quid in royalties to Sir David Frost’s estate.”
He started every show in the same way, with the same corny joke. He then put on his serious face.
“Tonight we have some very special guests, guests who are going to blow your minds. These guests are not magicians. But you’ll be absolutely amazed by what you are about to see.”
He turned to the house band.
“So, guys. What’s new?”
This part of the show was rehearsed and the to and fro of friendly banter was expected by both the studio audience and those watching at home. The first five minutes of Ford On Friday was an unchanging ritual. Neither Brendan nor the band let the viewers down; the laughter of the audience in the studio was genuine.
In the green room, Carla beckoned Aaron and Tom to follow her. They walked along a short corridor and were led into another room, being careful to avoid tripping over the cables. Soon they were standing in the wings of the Ford On Friday set. Onstage, Brendan had the audience in the palm of his hand.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen. I’m going to introduce you to two people who, as I said, are going to absolutely blow your minds. Have you ever wondered what happens to you when you die? I’m sure you have. We all do at some time in our lives. Well, these guys say that they have the answer. Please welcome Aaron Hunt, who works as a research scientist specialising in reincarnation, and Thomas McCall.”
The band played the song You Only Live Twice, and the studio audience clapped and cheered. Aaron and Tom walked on stage and sat down on a sofa alongside the podium behind which sat Brendan Ford.
“Aaron, Thomas, welcome to Ford On Friday.”
Brendan was well aware of the alliterative power of the name of the show and that if he repeated it regularly, ‘Ford On Friday’ would stick in his viewers’ minds. Tom was reminded of his own previous attachment to the Crackerjack catchphrase.
“Let me start with Thomas. May I call you Tom?”
“Of course, Brendan.”
“Tom. You claim that you are the reincarnation of several people.”
“Yes, Brendan, but it’s not a claim, it’s a fact. I have been reincarnated. Many, many times. But I only really remember well the dozen or so most recent.”
“That’s a lot of lives, Tom. And we thought cats had it good with nine.”
The audience laughed at Brendan’s little joke, and he waited a few seconds for effect before continuing.
“So, am I the reincarnation of lots of dead people too? And if so, why can’t I remember my past lives?”
“We don’t all remember our past lives. Maybe five percent of us do. Aaron here doesn’t remember any of his.”
Aaron cut in, thinking that if he didn’t say something he’d look like a stuffed dummy.
“Yes. That’s true. Absolutely nothing.”
Brendan continued his line of questioning.
“So all these people who claim to remember living as someone else in the past, are you telling me that they don’t have psychological problems?”
Tom leaned forward a little in his seat.
“Of course, some are mentally disturbed. The guy who sits in the corner of a room somewhere, telling everybody that he used to be Napoleon Bonaparte, he needs help. I’ve actually met Bonaparte’s latest incarnation, a butcher in Huddersfield, and a nicer former Emperor of France you couldn’t hope to meet. As I said, in reality, only about 5% of people are Recarns.”
“Tell the audience, Tom. What’s a Recarn?”
“A Recarn, Brendan, is what we call ourselves. We who remember our past lives are Recarns.”
“OK. So, tell me about some of your past lives, please.”
Tom described the life of Ruth, the slave, and Simon, the murderous little boy. He left out the more disturbing parts of Ruth’s story as he didn’t want the audience to lose focus of the main reason for his being there. Although it wasn’t recent history many of the studio audience gasped at the tale of Simon; many remembered or had been told about the strange case of the little boy who killed his mother and then himself.
“Okay. Let’s move onto Aaron. Aaron, you’re a research scientist who has spent his life trying to prove reincarnation. How have you gone about that exactly?”
Aaron explained how he interviewed people about their supposed past lives and tried to corroborate their stories through historical records.
“And has your research convinced you that reincarnation is a bona fide scientific fact, Aaron?”
“I have to confess that my research has not been overly successful in that respect.”
“So that would be a no, then. And do you believe that Tom is indeed the reincarnation of Ruth, Simon and many others?”
“I didn’t want to. I’m a scientist after all. But yes, I do believe him.”
“Tell us why, Aaron.”
Aaron told the tale of how he’d met Jake Griffiths, how Jake had led him to a buried safe with incredible security. He also modified the story a little, deciding to leave out the part about how his family would be in danger if he told anyone about his experience. His wife would be watching the show and he didn’t want to alarm her. He explained how Jake had put things in the safe before shooting himself. He explained how Tom had contacted him, led him to the very same safe, opened the safe without blowing both he and Aaron to kingdom come, how he’d recited what was on the documentation in the safe word for word. He described the experience with the dice.
Brendan rested his chin on his fist and looked directly into the lens of camera one.
“Sounds incredible, doesn’t it ladies and gentlemen?”
The studio audience murmured in agreement, as Brendan stood up and walked over to camera two, clasping his hands in front of him.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I haven’t been completely honest with you. This story sounds fantastical – I know – but twenty-five years ago I was approached by a balding, rather stout, middle-aged man who told me a very similar story. I was led to a hidden location and experienced exactly what happened to Aaron. The difference is that I have it all on film. I was told to bring the most trustworthy cameraman I knew. This was all at the particular behest of Albert Cummings, the stranger, who, like Jake Griffiths, shot himself in the head on that very same day all those years ago. Some may ask why neither I, nor Aaron informed the authorities of what had happened, but we had a very good reason not to.”
He unclasped his hands and turned slightly towards the giant screen that was located at the back of the set.
“What you are about to see may be disturbing for some, so when Albert shoots himself you’ll hear an audible warning before and can close your eyes for a few seconds. Let’s watch the video”
Aaron leaned over to Tom and whispered in his ear..
“Did you know about this?”
Tom nodded,
“Yes. Albert was one of Jake’s schoolteachers.”
A few people closed their eyes but most of the audience chose to watch the video uninterrupted. After showing Albert shooting himself in the head, the video screen went blank.
“Now, here’s video evidence of what happened when I met Charlize, last week. Charlize, take a bow.”
A beautiful, willowy Swedish girl, dressed in a shimmering silver evening dress, rose from her seat in the front row of the audience, turned, gave a graceful bow and sat down again.
All eyes returned to the giant TV monitor behind the host and his guests. They saw a visibly older Brendan, today’s Brendan, once again being led to the hidden safe. They saw it opened, they saw the documents removed and they saw Charlize confirm their contents. They saw Brendan recall the number and colour combinations of the dice and they saw those numbers confirmed
, just as they’d been for Aaron. They saw the Semtex defused and then the return to Brendan’s car.
“Now, Ladies and gentlemen. It may be hard to believe but this is totally genuine. I sincerely believe that Charlize is the reincarnation of Albert Cummings, crazy as it may seem. I’m confident enough in my belief to offer the film, myself, and – I have her permission to say this – Charlize to undergo any tests required to confirm the veracity of what we have seen. Aaron, Tom, are you both willing to do the same?”
Tom agreed immediately.
“Aaron?”
“Yes, of course. I just hope it won’t involve waterboarding. I have a phobia.”
A ripple of polite laughter swept through the audience.
“I hope so too, Aaron. OK people. Let’s go to a commercial break and when we come back I’ll be speaking to the finalists of Britain’s Got Talent.”
Aaron and Tom were ushered into another room, where they could have a relaxing drink and watch the rest of the show.
CHAPTER SIX
14:31 SUNDAY 13 JUNE 2038
Aarika Bhandari, BTV News reporter, was standing at the edge of a turbulent and sometimes violent demonstration in Parliament Square, microphone in hand, waiting for her cue to start speaking. A disembodied voice in her headphones counted down the seconds.
“Three, two, one, action.”
Aarika licked her lips and began her report.
“There is a tremendous surge forward as the crowd tries to make ground but they are being met with high-velocity jets of water from three water cannons placed before the Houses of Parliament. At least we won’t see a repetition of February’s Manchester riots when riot police felt threatened and a number of them turned their pulse gun settings from stun to kill. An eyewitness on that day claims to have heard a senior officer give the order to change settings, an order that thankfully was ignored by the vast majority of riot police on that fateful day, but it is believed that about half a dozen police officers did obey the order and consequently twenty-seven men, women, and children lost their lives on that tragic day. No police officers have been prosecuted yet and an official enquiry continues.