A Ghost for a Clue

by C L R Draeco

  Roy groaned and ended the call.

  I let out a puff of a laugh and stared at my coffee.

  Is this what people could mistake for god? An omnipresent third element? Present in everything and yet was one of those factors we still couldn’t see?

  Omniscient because it knew all the successful patterns the world must constantly repeat—allowing water to boil only at a specific temperature, constraining radioactive material to decay at a certain rate, and a chicken egg to predictably respond to a cook’s mental calculation of “heat times minutes” equals a raw, soft, or hard-cooked egg.

  From my memory bank, I culled evidence that that “something” did exist. It came in different forms and was observed in different sciences. But it had no common name.

  In physics, it was the potential barrier. In nuclear physics, the Gamow barrier. Chemistry called it activation energy. Quantum mechanics talked of a potential hill. In atomic fission, it was that point of criticality. In nuclear fusion, the Coulomb barrier. Then there was the Schottky barrier in electrical conduction and many other energy barriers. It was a wall everybody was climbing over, a given that no one even saw.

  It was an omnipotent entity that set limits, put up blockades, and determined when conditions had been met for a bit to flip from one to zero. To accomplish this, it had to have control over every particle and wave.

  Omnipresent. Omniscient. Omnipotent.

  And because science had never given this element a proper name, it became known as God.

  A cool sensation spread from my head to my shoulders, as though pent up steam had suddenly been released. I smiled, pleased at myself, then took a sip of coffee. It reminded me of the unassuming apple that had fallen from a tree to hint at gravity—Newton’s immense concept that was just as pervasive yet elusive.

  The irony made me chuckle: How it had slipped my mind to ask how the universe managed to remember.

  With a curt nod, I decided it was worth the time to send out that email. Glancing at my inbox, I spotted an old message from Virtual Nexus which I’d left unopened all this time. It was probably the link to that voice recording Franco had made.

  I skipped it and quickly composed my answer to the riddle.

  To Deltoton:

  E=mc2 says that energy and matter are one and the same. But that c in the equation—the speed of light—hints at a third element in our universe. Because the faster an object moves, it appears as though part of its energy transforms into mass. Why? I propose it’s because something yet undetected envelopes it. Pervades it. And stops it from going any faster than it should. It’s an unidentified force that imposes not only the speed limit of light but all fundamental physical constants so that nothing decays, attracts, reacts, behaves outside of the law.

  It, whatever “it” is, is a building block that is all-pervading, all-knowing, almighty, and is beyond the influence of time. It is what enables the universe to have order, predictability, and symmetry. It is what upholds the true commandments that the universe must obey for it to exist as we know it.

  I clicked Send, leaned back, and let out a sigh of satisfaction. If this “third element” had always been in control of the rules obeyed by the inanimate—long before the inception of life—then, most likely, it was also in control of data left behind when life came to an end.

  I cracked my knuckles, rubbed my hands together, and smiled. Finally, my mind was clear enough to get back to work on Husserl.

  27

  Waiting For Her Answer

  Lavender.

  I found a small vase of it sitting on my desk when I got to Schwarzwald the next morning. It was a quaint office custom of the Green Manor’s, but these particular flowers only reminded me of someone I’d been trying not to think about.

  It was the toughest challenge in the world, waiting for her answer. How long could a guy hold his breath?

  I put the vase on an adjacent table, then leaned back into my chair and rubbed the space between my eyes, hoping to quiet my mind.

  “Hey! Just the man I was lookin’ for.”

  So much for getting some peace and quiet. “Morning, mate.”

  “Tell me somethin’. How do you suppose we can feed a ghost?” Roy loped over as casually as if he had just asked me what I’d had for breakfast.

  “Why would we even have to?”

  “Best be ready for it. Jackson thinks it’s alive. Benedict wants to look for ’er husband. And I’m sure Brighton wants to have tea with a bunch of ’em. The least we could do is give ’em somethin’ to eat.”

  I gave a sleepy grin. Maybe it was good that Roy was giving me something else to think about. “I heard some doctors arguing about it.”

  Roy raised his brow. “Doctors? Were talkin’ about what ghosts eat?”

  “Long story. But their discussion got me thinking how radiation—with sufficient energy—can produce an ion pair which can interact with surrounding matter. The reactions can be highly endothermic.” I shrugged. Don’t ask me why the equipment didn’t catch the temperature change.

  Roy cocked his head as he studied schematics only he could see in his head and, surprisingly, didn’t chuck it in the bin. “I think Jackson can muster enough energy for that. I mean, a dog can generate an electric field of 45,000 millivolts per meter—give or take.”

  My mouth fell open. “Who the hell walks around knowing the millivolts of a dog?”

  “My vet told me.”

  “And why would you talk about . . .” This guy sure had one strange vet. “Never mind. How’s your dog, by the way?”

  Roy’s smile faded away, as though the sun had suddenly set around him. “Man, he isn’t doin’ so good. His age isn’t helpin’ in any way.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I swallowed, relating in some emotional tangent. My best friend was a robot, and just the thought of losing Diddit was something I couldn’t imagine.

  “Quince, my vet, says I ought to be happy that I’m the only guy who could say I’ve had a Boner for twelve years. He’s a fool to think that’s long enough.”

  It was funny and sad at the same time.

  The doors of the elevator parted, and Starr breezed in with a swaying of hips and a tinkling of jewelry. “Good morning, boys. I’ve got bad news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

  “Whatever rings your bell, sweetcakes,” Roy said, flicking a tiny chime on her bracelet.

  “Eldritch has seen the video of us hailing Thomas. He’s flying over to join us when we try it again.”

  “And what’s the other bad news?” I asked.

  “Tor’s brother isn’t getting any better, so she’s taking a couple of days off to stay at the hospital. Which is good because it delays any further testing for now.” Starr picked up the small vase of lavenders and gave it a whiff. “She said she also needs some time away to deal with something else that’s on her mind.” She then laid the vase right back on my desk.

  I stared at the feather-shaped leaves and spike-like flowers that teased me with their haunting scent, and I gave up on waiting. “Do you think you could ask her to pass by—just for a short while tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to . . . surprise her with something.”

  Starr’s eyes sparkled like precious gems fit for a ring, and she flashed a glossy smile. “Consider it done,” she said and sashayed away.

  “Got a minute?” I asked Roy.

  “Sure.”

  “The hyperwill. Can you figure out a way to block it?”

  Roy scratched his head. “Man, you stood right in its path and it walked right through you. Hell, I wouldn’t even wanna—”

  “I’m talking about blocking its effects. It’s for Torula’s kid brother. She’s worried it might be what’s causing his illness.”

  “Hell, no.” A worried frown took over Roy’s face. “That’s why those doctors were talkin’ about ghosts, huh?”

  “Yeah. What if she’s right? That the hyperwill’s energy demand is affecting her brother’s neural network or electrochemical func
tions or something.”

  Roy nodded as he squinted at me. “So what do you wanna do?”

  “Jam it.”

  Roy’s gaze drifted to the side and defocused as he studied his invisible diagrams floating in thin air. “We can disrupt ’er brother’s signal so Thomas can’t use ’im as a transmitter.” He snickered. “Yo, it’s gonna be like puttin’ a dead zone in the dead zone. Let’s do it.”

  28

  The Surprise

  I tapped a hand against my chest to check on the secret tucked away in my pocket, right over my heart. I could only hope this gesture would demonstrate my promise to look after Torula and all that was dear to her—something I was desperate to make her see, now that she was deciding on our future together.

  Thirty-nine hours. That didn’t seem like such a long wait. But that was how long I’d been holding my breath—ever since our talk in the chapel.

  When I glanced up, there she was, striding towards me from behind a row of tall shrubs in Starr’s workstation. Wearing a tank top and lowriders, with her long black hair flowing over her shoulders, the mere sight of her gave me a fresh lungful of much-needed air.

  She climbed up the wooden steps, took her aviators off, and surveyed the console table and its row of monitors. “So what’s the surprise?”

  I stood up, walked solemnly towards her, and dug two fingers into my shirt pocket.

  “Oh, my Lordy me!” Starr cried, squeezing Roy’s arm and jiggling like a giddy adolescent. “This is what I’ve been waiting for!”

  I plucked the small metallic object from my shirt pocket.

  Starr grimaced, looking at my offering the size of a double A battery. “What’s that? Lipstick?”

  “It’s something for Truth,” I said. “We call it a hyperjammer.”

  “A toy?” Starr’s face crumpled like a love letter gone to waste. She sank into a chair, all her sparkle gone. “I should’ve expected this from a geek.”

  Torula gingerly took the prototype from my fingers and examined it.

  “It’s gonna send out a low frequency signal,” Roy said. “It’ll mask ’im so Thomas can’t find your brother and use ’im as a transmitter.”

  Torula gazed up at me with an expression I couldn’t quite make out. She seemed either impressed or incredulous. Or maybe both. “You’re saying this tiny contraption can render Truth ‘invisible’ to Thomas?”

  “I guess you can say that, yeah. Just turn this . . .” I twisted the device at its base. A sliver of bluish light appeared and circled its girth. “When you see that light, it means it’s sending out a signal that will keep Truth from triggering the hyperwill’s transmission.”

  “Will it affect Truth?”

  I shrugged. “It involves ELF waves. Possible side effects would be the same stuff they say you can get from electronic gadgets any given day.”

  “But can it do more harm than good?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Not unless it also jams ’is guardian angel,” Roy said.

  “What did you say?” Starr asked like a decommissioned satellite suddenly blinking back onto the grid.

  “We wanna make the kid invisible just to the entities harmin’ the boy, not the good ones helpin’ him.”

  I frowned at him. “It’s a signal jammer, Roy, not a digital exorcism.”

  “In a manner o’ speakin’, it actually is. And I don’t wanna cut off anythin’ more than it should, so just turn it on when the boy needs it.”

  Torula twisted it off.

  Starr got up and stood fist-on-hip to address me and Roy. “Are you saying the jammer could affect other souls?”

  Roy and I answered simultaneously. “No.” “Yes.”

  “Possibly harm them?” she asked.

  We answered the same time again. “No.” “I dunno.”

  “Then we shouldn’t use it,” Starr said.

  “What are you saying?” Torula asked, her voice suddenly harsh. “Are you favoring the conceptual rights of the dead over my brother’s health?”

  “We’re not sure Thomas is harming anyone,” Starr said. “And why is he suddenly ‘dead?’ Only yesterday, you were convinced Thomas was alive.”

  Torula tossed aside the comment with a flick of her hand. “I’ve reclassified him as among the indeterminates science and religion are still playing tug-of-war over.”

  “What indeterminates?” Starr asked.

  “Embryos, stem cells, the brain dead, the undead. That gray area of a list where life is a big question mark.”

  I smirked. I guess that’s a step in the right direction.

  Starr opened her mouth, but Roy spoke before she could. “Yo, listen.” He eased closer towards her. “It only works at a three-foot diameter around the person holdin’ it. It’s meant to keep Jackson’s brother safe.”

  “But what will it do to Thomas?”

  Torula sighed. “I’m sorry, Starr. I have to take this to the hospital.”

  “Wait.” Starr reached out to stop her. “You can’t just go ahead like this. It’s irresponsible. Shouldn’t we at least . . . consult an authority?”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “About violating sacred ground. You need to slow down and consider this gadget you’ve made. Do you think it’s moral? Or even ethical?”

  I wanted to say she was overreacting, but I stopped myself. This was Starr; she was only doing what she probably felt a good soldier of God would do. I sighed. “Hyperwills are accidentally preserved data, Starr. They don’t have rights or feelings.”

  She aimed her Kryptonite eyes at me, and my breath caught.

  Jesus. Did I just say that to a widow?

  “Yo, man,” Roy said. “That’s what they said about dogs ’til the SPCA came along. Even dogs have souls, y’know.”

  Torula hefted the hyperjammer towards Starr. “What do you want me to do? Throw this away? What if Thomas starts sucking the life out of your children? What would you do? Call a priest? Isn’t that something you do only when someone’s about to die?” She turned to leave but paused and looked at me, holding up the gadget. “Thank you for this.”

  I shrugged. “Roy helped me with it.”

  “Thank you too, Roy Radio.”

  He gave her a wink; she smiled warmly, then hurried out.

  The second Torula was out of earshot, Starr stood akimbo in front of me. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A surprise. That’s all you said about what you had for Torula. You had me fooled.”

  “Starr,” I said, “I know you have concerns about your husband, but—”

  “This is more than just my husband. This is about protecting every lost soul out there who deserves to rest in peace, protected from human-inflicted injury.” She pointed a bloodred fingertip at my jugular. “You knew I’d object, didn’t you?”

  “Hey, nobody’s tryin’ to dupe anyone around here, ayt? Morrison was just thinkin’ about Jackson. That’s all it is. It’s all for her. So don’t take it bad, missy.”

  “Stop calling me ‘missy.’ I’m a missus.” She held up her left hand and brandished the golden wedding band still on it. “I may be a widow, but in my heart, I’m still very much somebody’s wife, and I will do what I must to protect what is dear to me. So help me God.” With one last angry glare at me, she turned and stormed out of the nursery.

  29

  A Surrogate Channel

  I stood on the curb next to Schwarzwald and stared down the rocky path leading to Greenhouse 3C. Torula was due back at the Green Manor today, and even if she tried to dodge the topic all day, she was bound to give clues to her thoughts about Pangaea. The morning was sunny, but it seemed cloudy. Cool and breezy, yet it felt stifling. That about summed up what lay ahead today as I hoped for the best and braced for the worst.

  A car drove by, and the solitary passenger—a man wearing a black shirt with a clerical collar—looked at me with a stranger’s scowl, as though he had glimpsed my soul and
didn’t approve. I thought of only one person who would have had such a guest.

  I hurried to Starr’s nursery. Nearing the workstation, I heard Starr and Torula’s voices raised in a tense argument.

  “What were you thinking?” Torula asked. “We signed an NDA, then you turn around and tell a bishop?”

  She bloody what?

  “He won’t say a word,” Starr said. “Trust me. He’s family.”

  I strode around a plot of tall shrubs, and the platform came into view. “Did Eldritch authorize it?” I asked, looking straight at Starr.

  She left a long, uncomfortable silence in the air before answering. “We need outside guidance. We’re all too close to this to see the bigger picture.”

  “Bram,” Torula said, the anxiety easing from her brow as I approached the platform. “Truth’s doing much better. His condition has improved remarkably.”

  Now that was good news I wanted to hear. Unfortunately, there was no time to relish it.

  “That’s not reason enough for us to be reckless,” Starr said. “You’d be risking two lives by agreeing to hold this test. Your brother’s and Thomas’s.”

  “Oh, please,” Torula said. “It’s just a signal jammer. It’s a cloak, not a weapon of mass destruction.”

  Suddenly, I got a whack on the shoulder blade. “Yo, Morrison. You ready to rock n’ roll?”

  “Hang on, mate.” I thrust my hand out and stopped Roy from going past me. “Can the hyperjammer stand up against the Verdabulary during this test?”

  “O’ course.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Roy shrugged. “Isn’t that why it’s called a test? ’Cause we aren’t sure about anythin’ yet.” He strode on by then trotted up the platform steps.

  “Mornin’, ladies! I’m stoked. You’re hot. And this is gonna be one helluva day.” He stood at the top of the steps, chest out, shoulders back, proud as a superhero, and said, “Let’s show the world how to ghost-hunt in broad daylight.”