by Marie Harbon
In another room, Paul found two men, again seated at different tables.
“This is Oscar and George,” Miss Tynedale introduced.
Oscar was a stocky Afro-Caribbean man with a pleasant smile, mellow brown eyes, and a huge shock of curly hair. In his early twenties, he exhibited a typical laid-back Barbados demeanour whereas George, his companion, looked quite the typical English gentleman in his hat, which almost entirely covered his salt and pepper hair. He had the aristocratic nose of a lord and a slim frame, and appeared to be anywhere between late thirties and mid-fifties.
They each sat a table and in front of them lay a map, plus paper and pen. Miss Tynedale pointed out that each map had a location highlighted in contrasting ink, and when she indicated, both men seemed to drift off into some sort of trance. After a short while, they began sketching and scribbling notes, which Paul found intriguing. Finally, Miss Tynedale began to clarify what they were doing.
“This is a form of psychic reconnaissance we use on a regular basis, to uncover what is hidden in secret locations and to check on the movements of enemies.”
She passed him George’s scribbles and he saw that they’d drawn buildings and equipment reflecting, he guessed, what was actually at the location indicated on the map.
“How does this work?” Paul enquired.
Oscar described the process.
“It’s like my eyes and mind travel to another place, but my body is still here. I see distant places.”
Paul mused upon this explanation for a moment.
“Hmmm, it’s like a particular kind of distance vision… remote viewing.”
Miss Tynedale smiled, as all the demonstrations appeared to have aroused Paul’s curiosity.
“That’s all for today,” she concluded. “There is another resident who’s currently in hospital. She’ll see you as soon as she returns. Mr Richardson would like to speak to you though.”
They transferred downstairs to the office and Paul expected to find Max in there. Instead, Miss Tynedale picked up the telephone and dialled out. After a pause, Paul could just hear Max’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes, he’s here,” she said, “I’ve made the introductions.”
She handed the receiver to Paul and before he could say anything, Max outlined his objectives.
“Now that you’ve met my residents, I’ll let you in on the reason I moved you to The Institute. There are technicians at The Institute to assist with and monitor a series of tests, this isn’t your role. Your objective is to use your background in physics and quantum theory to explain the workings, or the source of their abilities.”
This certainly took Paul by surprise.
“Okay. Will this be purely theoretical, or will evidence be required?”
“I’m looking for a hypothesis initially,” Max stated, with focus. “Eventually, I’d like an in depth analysis of their abilities, with a report on each individual.”
Paul indicated he understood and the phone call ended. Miss Tynedale looked at him with expectation.
“Wow,” was all he could say.
***
In the morning, Miss Tynedale surprised him further at breakfast with an invitation. At that moment, he’d actually drifted off into some parallel reality, looking philosophically out of the window. After she cleared her throat, he gave her the full attention she required.
“Some of the residents have the day off and they’re going to visit the Natural History Museum. They’d like you to accompany them.”
Now, that was a pleasant surprise.
“Well, tell them I’d be honoured,” he responded.
He wondered which residents were going. When Emilie, Oscar, and Beth entered the room, they answered his silent query. Sitting down at the adjacent table, they took breakfast together. The three psychics appraised the eminent physicist who’d come to work with them, a little shy of making conversation. Before long, they’d all put their coats and scarves on, and were on their way.
They took the underground and alighted at South Kensington, then proceeded along Exhibition Road to the museum. Two women walked by, pushing perambulators and almost ran them over, but they managed to dodge them at the last minute. A telegram boy in his navy blue uniform with red piping and pillbox cap passed by, bring news of a birth, marriage, or death to some family on a nearby street.
The museum came into view. Paul was impressed at the architectural splendour of the building, although the others didn’t pay as much attention. Emilie watched an old man with a flat cap on his head, who was deep in thought whilst smoking a cigarette.
“Penny for his thoughts?” Paul queried.
“He is just worrying about his family, his son is sick.”
They entered the museum, sorted out the admission and tried to orientate themselves in the reception area. Paul steered them over to the first area and proceeded to view the dinosaurs and animals, which Emilie gazed at thoughtfully. It seemed like a good opportunity to get to know her better, and he sidled over to her.
“So… you can really read minds?”
She smiled in that coquettish manner.
“That is why I live at The Institute.”
Hmmm, that didn’t seem to get the conversation flowing, so he tried to probe further.
“Are you reading my mind now?”
A person could feel strangely exposed in her company. To what extent could she uncover someone’s secrets?
“I can close my mind if I wish,” she replied, “It’s just like shutting a door, because otherwise, there would be no surprises. If life is written in advance, the thrill disappears, and life becomes dull.”
He wondered if Emilie had ever pierced Max’s inner sanctum and pondered it quite intensely. She gave him a wry look.
“There are some things that we should not know,” she declared, “and I do not wish to probe.”
Okay, he’d potentially touched a raw nerve.
The four of them studied the bones of dinosaurs and then moved onto a different exhibition, based on Egypt. Oscar and Beth began looking at some reliefs of Egyptian Gods, lingering over the images depicting odd hybrid creatures: jackal, crocodile, ibis, and hawk headed people.
“The Egyptians believed in the afterlife and the ‘other world’,” Beth said. “They called it the Duat. Their gods inhabited that world.”
Paul pointed to one of the deities.
“I think this figure, here, with the dog-like head is Anubis. He presided over mummification and the afterlife.”
The scene portrayed Anubis weighing a heart with some scales and a feather. Oscar pointed to another character.
“Anyone remember this one, with the long beaked head?”
Paul studied it briefly and then answered, “I’m sure that’s Thoth, the knowledge keeper.”
“Their spirits are still there, in the Duat,” Beth said, “although I’ve never spoken with them.”
She closed her eyes, briefly drifting off into a trance and hanging onto a railing in case she became disorientated. Eventually, she opened her eyes and spoke to Paul.
“Madeleine told me that when the bomb hit, it was instantaneous. ‘I didn’t suffer…the light came for me quickly.’ She wanted you to know that.”
So that was what Beth wanted to impart yesterday.
Paul felt strangely moved and liberated. Logic told him Madeleine was gone but the memory of her still haunted him. He wanted Beth to truly be in contact with her, although his scientific voice insisted on evidence.
His rational mind spoke out, “How do I know it’s really her?”
“On the night of your engagement, you told her that she danced beautifully, like your mother.”
That statement brought back so many memories, of when life was simple… He wanted to believe there was an extension of life after death, however, belief and truth were often two separate entities.
“Does she often watch over me?” he questioned further, as if accepting her spirit did indeed communica
te with Beth.
“Sometimes, when the thread of connection between her world and ours is thin.”
“Her world?”
“She says it’s a place which is everywhere and nowhere…it can’t be located. You’d probably describe it as a different reality, in your quantum terms. She wishes you weren’t sceptical.”
Paul felt a little embarrassed, as if he were disrespecting Beth’s abilities.
“I’m not sceptical… this just wasn’t what I expected.”
“She understands,” Beth relayed. “But there is something that she wanted me to pass on.”
Paul looked to her in readiness to listen.
“’You don’t have to be loyal to my memory’, she’s telling me. It’s okay to move on and find happiness. When the opportunity presents itself, I know you’ll feel reluctant but it’s important to take the plunge. There is a woman who will show you great joy…and great sadness. Love is, as ever, a double-edged sword.”
Beth touched his arm then walked away, joining Emilie at the next exhibit and leaving Paul to be alone with his thoughts.
These people he’d met at The Institute, they really opened his eyes. It would be a pleasure to study them.
***
The first week at The Institute offered an easy ride, allowing Paul to settle in and become accustomed to the testing practices. He engaged with the technicians, and spent several days looking through the experiments and logs of all recorded tests. Overall, it gave him a good foundation to work from.
On the eighth day, the missing resident of The Institute returned. A taxi pulled up outside that morning, just as Paul was finishing his tea, and because he sat in the bay window area, he saw who climbed out. The taxi driver assisted an old lady to the door, with her hospital suitcase. Paul heard Miss Tynedale welcoming her back, some shuffling around and then the door opened.
“Someone is very eager to meet you,” she said.
Paul finished his tea and swung his body around to face the door.
“This is Grace,” Miss Tynedale introduced, gesturing to a sparkly eyed, old woman in her mid-sixties. “She’s the longest serving resident here.”
Grace looked quite withered for her years, but Paul caught a glint of intelligence in her eyes. Her white, wispy hair had been tied into a bun, which sat in the nape of her neck. She walked slowly with rounded shoulders, each step carefully calculated, for she was cursed with arthritis and a slight scoliosis of the spine. Paul warmed to her instantly. She was just like somebody’s grandmother, the matriarch who baked cakes and served tea on a Sunday afternoon.
Grace took hold of his hands, and the sparkle in her eyes assumed a luminous intensity.
“Max has told me all about you,” she began. “You’re so important in the Lord’s plan, and that’s the reason you’ve come to The Institute.”
He helped her take a seat at the table.
“I know you think you’ve already gained a certain view on life that elevates you above all the rest, but there’s still plenty more to discover. Your journey will be rewarding, although it will be painful too. You must learn to stay strong.”
He found her words a little disconcerting. “How do you arrive at this conclusion?”
She smiled, revealing a fine set of dentures. “I have always known the truth about people.”
It all sounded fascinating.
“And what is there to know?”
“The future, of course,” she said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Paul was amused but inherently inquisitive, and his body language reflected this.
“I know you must be thinking this is a Victorian parlour game!” she continued. “But I can say with certainty, that you’ll lead an incredibly long life.”
Hmmm, not a great start.
“Well, I guess I’ll find that out eventually. In my long life, will my work become well known?”
She paused momentarily before answering. “In many years time, the world will know your name, but not for the reason you expect. In fact, you’ll not want the recognition, as there’ll be a greater purpose. Your children will be part of this.”
He often felt frustrated that his work hadn’t been published, so anonymity would his last choice. He still found her predictions vague and unconvincing.
“Tell me about these children,” he probed.
Grace seemed more interested in this question.
“Oh yes, there won’t be any for a little while yet.”
“How many will I have?”
As yet, he still felt uninspired.
She frowned, putting her hand to her mouth in an expression of abject confusion.
“I can’t count them, there are too many.”
It was Paul’s turn to frown.
“Well, I’m thirty nine…I haven’t even begun procreating yet. In fact, I’m not married and there’s no love interest in sight.”
A mischievous glint flickered in Grace’s eyes.
“But there will be, you’d better hold on tight.”
For a long moment, they appraised each other. Paul wanted to believe her, but she’d made some quite generic predictions. Did she have any degree of accuracy?
“Are you always right?” he queried.
“No,” she declared, with honesty, “and that’s why you’re here. Not all my predictions are accurate. Max wants to know why some are, and some aren’t.”
“Okay,” he changed tactic. “Can you give me a prediction for this year, a world event…something important so I can check your accuracy for myself?”
She drifted off for a while and during this time, he fiddled impatiently with the teaspoon on the saucer.
“Two dogs…” she announced, finally. “I can see them looking down upon the Earth, and the world is watching them too. They are the new explorers, as will you be too.”
What a strange prediction. He pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket, scribbled it down and sat back in his chair.
“Well, Grace, it’s going to be a delight working with you.”
***
From that point onwards, I researched at The Institute, while Max Richardson continued to develop upon my previous work back at The Establishment. Still today, I don’t know exactly what that continuation entailed, but he paid me well throughout my time at The Establishment to not unduly worry about the exploitation of my findings. At least my work hadn’t been in vain, although, I didn’t find any conclusive proof of the soul. Yes, I’d discovered some tantalising clues, but I never saw my thesis published, which disappointed me.
Working at The Institute gave me a new lease of life. I soon became well acquainted with these gifted individuals and the more I witnessed, the more I believed they weren’t charlatans and were, in fact, highly psychic.
Sakie, for example, was a little eccentric but quite endearing with it. I measured her EM field in the second week at The Institute, and found it to be the most extraordinary spectacle I’ve ever seen. She could drive a compass crazy and short-circuit electrical equipment, sometimes accidentally to her chagrin, whilst listening to something beautiful on the radio, or watching a television programme. (In those days, we only had a choice between two stations, the BBC plus ATV, the commercial channel). Sometimes, she disappeared for several days to carry out contracts. When I asked her about them, she said very little, and not just due to her poor English.
Emilie proved somewhat shy and private, yet cooperative. I performed many experiments on her, to be sure her answers weren’t triggered by non-verbal clues and body language. Her accuracy impressed me, even when the volunteers’ faces were obscured. At that time, I never reached any particular conclusion regarding how she did it, but concurred that telepathy did indeed appear to be genuine, at least in Emilie’s case. Once I became more established at The Institute, I learned she was an interrogator’s assistant, contracted out when the usual lines of questioning weren’t forthcoming.
Beth carried a maternal air about her, while Peter always seemed quite seriou
s. They claimed they could contact spirits and through rigorous testing, their accuracy startled me. Many facts could be checked, providing a good file of evidence. Maybe there is a form of existence after death…death of the body but not of consciousness, or of the soul. Possibly consciousness exists in another quantum state, another dimension even. I wasn’t closed-minded towards that probability.
Oscar proved to be the friendliest resident, whereas George was a great friend for more intellectual conversation. They both produced excellent results with their remote viewing experiments, and their ability to pinpoint what could be found at particular locations around the world bowled me over.
And Grace? Despite my initial reservations, I became very fond of her. A number of other so-called precognitives and modern day seers also came and went during my first year at The Institute, displaying the sort of accuracy that would be expected by chance. They tended to make dramatic, apocalyptic, and religiously tainted predictions about the long term future, which were impossible to verify in our time frame. However, Grace was different. She hadn’t asked for this and in a way, resented her life under scrutiny at The Institute.
Did I believe her?
I recall one particular night in my first summer there and at the time, I was typing at my desk with the Bakelite radio on in the background. A news broadcast caught my attention.
“Good evening, it’s the 20th of August 1960 and the time is 9 o’clock, here is tonight’s news. Soviet dogs, Belka and Strelka, returned safely to Earth after spending a day in space aboard Sputnik 5. They were accompanied by a grey rabbit, forty two mice, two rats, some flies, and a number of plants and fungi, which also survived the trip. They are the first Earth-born creatures to go into orbit and return alive. Scientists hope this will pave the way for the first human being to reach orbit and return to Earth alive.”
I stopped typing and began to fumble around for my old notepad. I found it in the top drawer and flicked through the pages to find something I’d written down eight months earlier. Reading it, I laughed, picked up a pen and drew a huge tick next to it.