A Ghost for a Clue

by C L R Draeco

  “In love?” Starr tried to grab her phone.

  “Primitive.” Torula clutched the phone tightly.

  “The nose knows, honey. You’ll have to get a good whiff of him, one way or another, before—”

  “I’m not about to go sniffing around him like some mongrel in heat.”

  Starr tiptoed, twisted, and snatched her mobile back. “We’ll need to analyze how his masculine scent affects your hormonal—”

  “Analyze?” Torula exclaimed. “What do you think I am? A test orgasm?”

  “Organism, dear. Calling him.” Starr warbled the last two words like a singing nun.

  Damn!

  “No!” Torula cried, lunging but missing the phone.

  I stared wide-eyed at my iHub and fumbled for the mute button. Shite. Where the hell is it?

  “Hello, ladies!” I called out, just before the Star Base theme played in the air.

  Torula swung around and looked more petrified now than when she’d seen the hyperwill.

  Starr dropped the call and slid her phone back into her pocket while I strolled over with a leisurely wave and a strained grin on my face.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” Starr said.

  I cocked my head. “Why is it that people never speak of an angel?”

  “How . . . how long have you been there?” Torula asked.

  “Uhm . . . I was just walking by when I saw you guys,” I said casually, my heart thudding.

  “Right on time,” Starr said. “Sunset’s just around the corner.”

  Torula tucked her hair behind one ear. “I thought you had a deadline.”

  “And I beat it hours earlier.” I gave Starr a polite, apologetic smile. “Mind if I talk with Torula for a while? In private.”

  Starr gave the subtlest shake of her head, almost like a shiver. “By any chance, is your topic going to be . . . more meaningful than the weather?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Starr clasped her hands together as though begging for forgiveness. “It’s less than an hour till sunset, so you shouldn’t be talking about anything life-changing. This is the worst time to be disrupting her frequency.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is none of your concern,” I said.

  “I’m afraid it is, honey. Our task is to hail a hyperwill. The sun is setting. The time is now. And your big news could just change her vibe for good.” Starr gestured in the general direction of the gates. “I’m just going by your RFID analogy. Right now, she’s dancing around the same frequency she’s been on since your arrival. Your next actions or words could change all that. We could lose our chances of hailing Thomas forever.”

  Torula gnawed her lip and paced for a few seconds. I could almost hear her agreeing.

  “Listen . . .” Torula faced me and flicked her bangs aside. “I know you came here to tell me something, and it’s been hanging over us, suspended, all this time. For just a little longer, it can stay there, can’t it?”

  “How much longer?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Until after we successfully get the hyperwill to appear at our call. And that could very well be in just over an hour.”

  I took a deep breath but said nothing.

  “You go on ahead, Starr.” Torula’s eyes never left mine. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Starr slowly backed away and left us alone.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So what do we talk about now? The weather?”

  “Thank you. For agreeing to wait.”

  I tried to smile, but the most I could do was sigh again. The sun hung low in the sky, and a shaft of sunlight pierced its way through a tangle of vines. Just looking into her eyes, sparkling like blue-violet gems in that shaft of light, took my breath away.

  “We have to go,” she said softly.

  I nodded. Barely.

  “Before we do, there’s something I’d like you to know.” She walked towards me, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in my ear. “I love how you smell.”

  She pulled away, just as I tried to bring her closer, and rushed out of the gazebo—leaving me wishing the next hour would pass by in a minute.

  21

  Roy’s Soundproof Booth

  I trailed Torula as we entered Starr’s greenhouse. Just one more hour. That was all the wait I had left in me.

  We walked between plots of shrubs hooked up to one version of an experiment or another until we emerged near the base of the elevated workstation. Roy’s soundproof booth, previously stored in his garage, now stood at one end of the platform like some recommissioned phone booth with wall-to-wall upholstery. But what was more interesting was the sight on the other end: Roy and Starr standing close to each other, face to face.

  Torula halted at the bottom of the steps and cleared her throat. Roy glanced at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “Y’all gotta excuse me. My Boner’s burnin’ up.”

  Torula sucked in her breath. “What the Shih Tzu are you talking about?”

  “He’s a yellow Lab, not a frickin’ Shih’t.”

  “Boner’s his dog’s name,” Starr said. “He’s Roy’s best friend, and he’s really sick.”

  Roy gestured towards the booth. “At least that’s all set and ready.” He tossed us a two-fingered salute. “Gotta go. Hasta mañana, peeps.”

  “Wait, you can’t go.” I moved to where I could block him. “We have to do this now.”

  “And why the hell is that?”

  “Because we’re chasing sunset, that’s why.” I pointed up through the glass roof where a faint pastel palette was beginning to show.

  “If I remember right, there’s another one happenin’. . . lemme think. Tomorrow!”

  “Please, Roy,” Torula said in a gentler tone far more likely to convince him. “I’d really appreciate it if you could delay just a bit longer. If we let this by, it’s another twenty-four hours, and sunset’s just minutes away.”

  “What do you say, honey?” Starr asked Roy with a smile that took the place of “please.” “It won’t take that long.”

  “Long is relative,” he said.

  “Then it means we have to hustle.” Starr lurched forward and dragged Torula towards the modified echo-free chamber. “Let’s get you inside this frequency capturing thing.”

  “It’s called the FR3,” Roy said, his tone bitter.

  “What does that stand for again?” Starr asked chirpily, her back to him. Torula stood tentatively at the door of the FR3.

  “Frequency and Resonance Reader and Recorder.” Roy collapsed onto a chair. “It’s an anechoic chamber with a dedicated looped antenna in the ELF band.”

  “Is this going to hurt?” Torula asked as she disappeared into the cramped, padded cell for one.

  “You think Roy Radio would do anythin’ to hurt ya?”

  Torula stepped out again, and Starr staggered backwards; the two just stood there facing each other, like partners in a dance routine who’d forgotten the next step.

  Roy’s brow knotted. “Yo, it’s cool. The FR3’s gonna do all the hard work.”

  Torula glanced back into the booth. “Why does it have to be so cloistered?”

  “We need some kinda sensory deprivation goin’ so nothin’ distracts you in there,” Roy said. “That whole rig’s meant to gather data from you the same way the Verdabulary does with your plants. I souped it up with a couple o’ spectroscopic techniques. Also got some gold electrodes to enhance the slower EEG frequencies. All you gotta do is sit in there with dark goggles on and chill.”

  Starr stood at the doorway clutching small discs of gold connected to wires that snaked down and out the booth. “You ready to do this, honey?”

  Torula stepped back inside, and Starr stooped down to attach the discs one by one to our “test organism.”

  Roy swiveled his seat towards the console, and I thumped him gratefully on the shoulder. “I really appreciate this, man. It should take just, maybe, fifteen minutes, tops.”

  “Yeah, well,” Roy said in a low tone. “
If you don’t hurry up and ask Jackson what you’d come ’ere to ask, this whole show could be done before you get to pop the question.”

  “What question?” I asked. A bit nervously, maybe.

  Roy rolled his eyes so exaggeratedly they could’ve popped out of their sockets.

  I pulled a chair over for a huddle. “What does Torula think I came to say?”

  Roy turned a couple of knobs on the equipment. “That you’re goin’ someplace outta reach, so you’re here to say goodbye. But Benedict thinks you’re here to ask ’er to come along.”

  I looked over at Starr still busy attaching electrodes.

  “Are you?” Roy asked.

  I kneaded my brow with one hand. “Been trying to.”

  “Shit. Isn’t it gonna be isolation hell out there? No signs o’ life outside o’ the few humans. No civilization. Nothin’ but cold, empty space?”

  I froze and stared at him. How does he know about Pangaea? “What exactly did she tell you?”

  “That they’re shippin’ you overseas. So it’s gotta be that godforsaken place in the coldest part o’ Svalbard.”

  “Svalbard?” My voice cracked in disbelief.

  “Ny-Ålesund, to be exact. That how you pronounce it? They say the hottest days there are way below freezin’.”

  “Are you bollixed?”

  “Man, I get it. It’s top secret. But it’s elementary, my dear Morrison. You’re too tall to be an astronaut, so obviously you’re not talkin’ about outer space. And there’s not many places where NASA’s got research stations outta reach. So I told Benedict to JFGI, and that place came out the winner.”

  “JFGI?”

  “Just Fuckin’ Google It.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Okay, we’re done,” Starr called out, closing the booth’s door, and Roy flicked a series of switches on. She hustled to her seat and made the sign of the cross.

  “Chillax,” Roy said. “Jackson won’t feel a thing except boredom.”

  Starr fiddled with her necklace with a worried frown. “It’s just that she’s . . . not comfortable in there.”

  “Pshh! It’s not like she’s gonna suffocate or get electrocuted. Trust me. She’ll be fine.”

  “Let me out!” Torula’s voice blared through the speaker, jolting us.

  “Whatdafuh?” Roy hurriedly turned the switches off.

  Starr bolted back towards the chamber just as Torula staggered out, retching and tearing her goggles off.

  I shot out of my seat but stayed rooted to my spot.

  “I don’t get it,” Roy said scanning his monitors. “Everythin’ looks fine.”

  Torula looked like she’d just run a race, doubled over, panting, hands on her knees. My body waited for instructions, but my mind could find no clue on what needed to be done.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She’s claustrophobic,” Starr said, putting a comforting arm around her friend.

  That’s impossible. I wanted to shake my head, but not a part of me could move.

  “Jeez,” Roy said. “Well, I guess it’s a wrap then.”

  “No,” Torula said, her eyes still pinched. “I can do this. Just give me a minute.”

  Roy glanced up at the sky through the glass roof. “That’s about all the time you got.”

  My next breath came with some effort. Of all the unpredictable things that had happened to me since I’d set foot in the Green Manor, this, by far, had blindsided me the most. I can’t believe I never knew this.

  My sole purpose for coming here had lost all meaning. If she was claustrophobic, there was no way she could survive in a cramped spacecraft. The FR3 was roomy compared to what astronauts had to live and work in out there. There was no way I could . . .

  I cast my eyes down, the very air around me having grown heavy. If Torula truly struggled with this kind of fear, then I had to consider that maybe . . . my only reason for being here now was to say goodbye.

  I shook myself out of my paralyzing trance and walked towards Torula. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “I just need to . . . take control again. Concentrate.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Spore.”

  “Yes, I do. Waiting any longer isn’t something either of us wants, is it?”

  I swallowed, not knowing what to answer. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “What’s there to tell? It’s nothing.”

  “Believe me. It doesn’t look like ‘nothing.’”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” She pushed her hair back, smoothing the mass away from her face. “All it did was keep me from playing hide-and-seek as a child.” She glanced at the FR3. “And I’ve never had practice sitting in a soundproof sepulcher.”

  “Excuse me, honey.” Starr clutched a few electrodes that had come off. “I’ll need to reattach these.”

  I stumbled backwards and gave way.

  “I’m sorry, Roy,” Torula called out to him as Starr proceeded with her task. “I should’ve told you I had this . . . weakness.”

  “No weakness at all, sweetcakes.” He tossed her a wink. “I’ll just grab all the readings I can and see what that’ll get us.” His voice took on a deeper tone. “For vibes that lure the soul, tune in to T-O-R-U from the city of L.A.”

  Torula managed a smile. “I always knew you were a DJ.”

  “We’re all set, honey,” Starr said, poised to shut the door.

  Torula nodded, casting one last look at me. I wanted to say something that would help calm her, but I was too bewildered to come up with anything, so instead I walked towards her, squeezed past Starr and through the booth’s doorway, and embraced her—not that tight but just enough to “cast a smell” on her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Feeling only slightly foolish for believing that a hug might somehow help the experiment, I stepped away, and Starr closed the door. Seated at the console, Roy put the FR3 back into action; I settled down next to him.

  Starr took the seat next to me. “I’m sorry I had to stop you from speaking with her at the gazebo, honey. I sort of have a suspicion what you’re going to ask.”

  My shoulders sagged. “It’s just as well.” I glanced around the lush nursery that was part of Torula’s paradise. “Roy’s right. It’s isolation hell out there. She’ll only be happy where life thrives in every possible corner.”

  “Hey, yo, now. I wasn’t throwin’ a wet blanket on your bonfire. I’m all for body heat, man. Just go right ahead and ask ’er. Worst thing that’ll happen is that she and her girlfriend over ’ere will tackle you and kick you over the goal posts to Whatthefuckistan with a kiss o’ good riddance.”

  “Roy Radio?” Starr protested with a raise of her brows. “Why do you think we’d do that?”

  “’Cause you’ll say he’s bein’ a chauvinist dickhead—to think Jackson’ll give up all she’s got ’ere to live in Svalbard.”

  Starr gave a charming chuckle. “Men, women, and all other colors of the rainbow can choose to give up their careers now in favor of their partners’ jobs. Besides, I think Norway itself is a great place to live. So don’t let it bother you, Bram. I guarantee, no botanists will be tackling you in a dogpile of rejection.”

  I gave a wan smile. Unfortunately, all this encouragement was worth nothing now. Space was the opposite of what a spacecraft had.

  “Okay, that’s it,” came Torula’s urgent cry through the speakers.

  Starr and I rushed to the chamber door as Torula staggered out. She didn’t seem as distressed as she’d been the first time, but she still looked shaken.

  “Did you get anything?” she called out to Roy, her eyes begging him to say yes.

  Starr clasped her hands together. “Oh, Lord, please let there be something.”

  Roy surveyed the data. “It looks like somethin’ worth your bejangled nerves happened in that booth.” He grinned and tapped on a monitor. “We got a spike in your PSD!”

/>   He pulled a chair close to him for Torula. “See that?” We all clustered around Roy to have a look at the chart. “That’s the Power Spectral Density. It tells us the power o’ the EM wave you were emittin’ at a certain frequency. How many watts per hertz was generated.” He scratched his stubbled head. “And holybejoinkers, it’s a Schumann resonance.”

  “What does that mean?” Starr asked.

  “Holybejoinkers?”

  “Schumann resonance!” Starr slapped Roy on the arm.

  “It’s a spectrum peak o’ electromagnetic waves in the space between the Earth and the ionosphere, actin’ like a waveguide.”

  “So, I hit a specific frequency in that space?” Torula asked.

  “Seven point eighty-three,” Roy said. “That’s the frequency you were on when the PSD spiked. And the fundamental Schumann resonance—its lowest-frequency and highest-intensity mode—is at approximately seven point eighty-three hertz.”

  “In plain speak?” Torula asked.

  “When you oscillated at the same frequency as the Earth’s surface, your mind must’ve tuned in to everythin’ on that frequency.”

  I stared blindly at nothing, coming to one hazy conclusion: If all the time I’d spent here was just worth this damned thing, then we might as well— “Go for it.”

  “Say what?” Roy asked.

  “Let’s broadcast Torula’s signature and see if the hyperwill responds,” I said.

  “You mean we can hail Thomas now?” Starr asked, excitement in her eyes.

  “Hail ’im?” Roy winced. “Who do you think he is, the Virgin Mary?”

  “And we beseech thee hear us, honey. Let’s test the signal now, please?”

  “But I gotta get Boner to the vet!”

  “Come on, mate. Just isolate that.” I jabbed a finger at the PSD monitor. “Don’t you want to walk out of here knowing if we already got a breakthrough of a bugger? Torula deserves to know after what she went through to get it.”

  Roy jiggled one leg, revved up and ready to leave but, hopefully, itching with enough curiosity to wait. “You’re pressin’ your karma with me, man.” He scrunched up his face, then grabbed the keyboard. “All right. Gimme a sec.”