Seven Point Eight

by Marie Harbon

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Do you love her?” she pressed.

  The question caught him unawares, and he appeared to swallow hard.

  “Do you love her?” Tahra repeated.

  “What do you think?” he asked her, still unable to answer the question.

  “I think that you’re comfortable with her and you like her company, but you don’t love her.”

  Paul only responded with silence, as if someone wonderful had just unexpectedly punched him. Tahra noted her words had found the target and waited for his response. Unseen by both of them, Eleanor moved away from the doorway to the patio, shaken. Reaction hidden behind her mask, she abruptly left and returned to the dining room. Neither Paul nor Tahra noticed her.

  “Tahra,” Paul said, “I can’t get involved with you, I can’t. We need to maintain a friendly but professional relationship. Besides, I’m twice your age. Wouldn’t you rather find a nice guy your own age?”

  For the second time that night, she felt a sense of sheer and utter frustration.

  “I’m sorry I said anything,” she said.

  Tahra fled the scene, face flushing with humiliation and in a dazed state, she located Max’s driver.

  “Please, take me back to The Institute.”

  He relented and Tahra grabbed her coat, following the driver to the Daimler. From behind his mask, Max watched her depart, noting her clearly emotional state. Bitterly, he downed the remainder of his champagne and returned to the celebrations.

  Meanwhile, in the Daimler, Tahra stared out of the window, allowing the tears to flow.

  What a great start to the New Year.

  Max had fired her anger, and Paul had disappointed her, albeit for sound moral reasons. However, she couldn’t deny her affection for Paul. She hoped one day, the tide would turn in her favour. However, as she watched the streets of London draw into view once more, she made a determined resolution.

  Why wait for the tide to turn in her favour?

  Why not command the tide, so it turned at her will?

  Reflecting on her ability to move the emotions of others, Tahra decided to use her God given talents to attract what she needed in life. She’d win Paul’s heart, no matter.

  ***

  A week into the New Year, Paul sat at his desk, perusing his NASA clippings with an absent mind. The excitement of Project OOBE seemed to pull everything into its gravity, awakening and challenging other facets of his life. Tahra’s admonition that night had left him unsettled.

  Despite being in a settled relationship with Eleanor, that declaration of love had meant something to him. He’d developed a reverence and respect for Tahra through working alongside her, and he cared about her wellbeing. However, his response had been the correct one. He just couldn’t get romantically involved with her, even if he were single. She was such a young girl, and it would feel like taking advantage, exploiting her naivety. Perhaps, due to her age, this crush would eventually pass and they wouldn’t have to address the matter again.

  No matter, Eleanor’s behaviour towards him had subtly altered.

  The phone rang and Paul valued its intrusion into his poor concentration. On answering, he heard Max’s voice on the other end of the line and they went through the customary greetings. Max queried the OOBE project’s progress.

  “Well, we haven’t found life on other planets yet,” Paul joked.

  He heard a soft chuckle escape Max’s lips.

  “It’s not the reason for my call,” Max explained. “I’ve just received some feedback from one of my contacts about that encounter with the orbital capsule.”

  Paul had almost forgotten about that.

  “It seems there may be something in Tahra’s belief that someone in the capsule saw her,” Max continued. “It’s in a top secret report, so we’ll never see it become official, but the astronaut claims to have seen an orb of light outside the capsule. It’s being regarded as a UFO encounter.”

  After hanging up the phone, the significance of that statement hit Paul. Tahra’s consciousness had manifested in the physical realm, taking the form of light. That would mean consciousness itself could take the form of photons, and if that were the case, it had the potential to travel at the speed of light.

  Travelling to the moon became just one mere step in the evolution of Project OOBE, for if consciousness were light, they really could be heading for the stars.

  Part Three

  OOBE

  The entire universe is this gigantic loaf with many other slices, potentially. So our universe could be one slice, and a different parallel universe could be living on a different slice.

  *

  Brian Greene

  15

  To See the Truth

  Sunday 31st October 1993

  The call he’d been expecting still hadn’t materialised. She was cutting it fine and a promise was a promise, despite being made three months ago. Sam despaired, if there was anybody he wanted to see, it was her.

  At the tender age of twenty one, which he’d turned this very day, he was deeply involved in the final year of his art degree. He still loved to perform and compose music though, and he’d already produced several CDs full of his work. His father didn’t approve of his career choice, no change there, but Sam had dismissed these criticisms in his teenage years.

  Finally, he’d left his father’s Victorian town house and found himself a reasonable, clean, yet quirky one bedroom flat in FinsburyPark, just off Seven Sisters Road. He’d grown up surrounded by financial security, it meant little to him and so long as he could be relatively comfortable, Sam felt happy. All that mattered was art, music…and love.

  Sam walked along the road on his way home at dusk, having visited a friend. On reaching his door, he took out his key and opened the door to his ground floor flat, his own request as it made it easier to accommodate a piano. After entering, he placed his bag by the door, put on the radio, searching for a classical station and jumped onto the sofa. He checked his answer phone to see if there were any messages, but there weren’t and he sighed with disappointment. Maybe she’d call later.

  By force of habit, he pulled out some rizlas, a pouch of tobacco, and a small lump of cannabis encased in cling film, proceeding to roll a joint. He lit it and lay back on the sofa, smoking thoughtfully and listening to the radio.

  It kept the visitors away. Initially, he’d started drinking to keep them quiet and it did work, but alcohol stunted his ability to be creative and inspirational so he tried smoking a joint instead. Cannabis provided an effective spirits barrier while preserving his creativity. It’d been a few years since he’d seen any of them, they were too intrusive and he didn’t want their advice anyway.

  After the joint, he moved over to the piano and played a couple of his own compositions. As if answering his prayers, the phone rang and his fingers paused over the piano keys. This had to be the call he desired, so he answered it, buzzing with anticipation.

  “Oh Sam, I’m glad you’re in,” the voice at the other end said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier, I’ve been doing overtime. I hardly get time to breathe.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam replied. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  “Well, happy birthday first of all. How’s your day been?”

  Sam shrugged. “Okay I guess…it’s just another birthday.”

  “Just another birthday?” she queried, “It’s your twenty first!”

  “So it is.”

  “Have you planned a big night out, like the drinking extravaganza that was your eighteenth?”

  “No, I’d rather do something quiet, I don’t feel like partying.”

  “Well, as long as you’re happy about it. I bet you’ll spend it with your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam said, quickly.

  An awkward silence followed.

  “So…are you going to sit in your flat alone or shall I come over, to force you to go out?” she asked him.

&
nbsp; Sam laughed, relieved at the break in the sudden tension.

  “I think you’re going to have to drag me out.”

  “Well, I did promise to visit. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Sam said.

  Everything was going to plan.

  An hour later, he heard the door bell and rushed out of the bedroom to answer it. Checking his reflection in the mirror first, he produced a mock smile to ensure nothing sat lodged in his teeth. He smoothed back his ebony hair, which reached his shoulders now, and straightened his clothing, the usual ripped jeans, loose black shirt, sweatbands, and a few lethal looking silver rings.

  Perfect.

  Sam opened the door and flashed a welcoming smile.

  “Happy birthday!” Ava said.

  She looked different, more mature, more elegant but just as beautiful though. Her hair had been straightened and layered, framing her face quite delicately. She wore a long coat over a pair of tight jeans and a lace bodice, plus her favourite red silk scarf tied loosely around her neck.

  Sam noted how her eyes fixed on his face and they hugged, he discreetly inhaling the sensual scent of her perfume.

  “I’m ready if you are,” he said, rushing back to grab his money and keys.

  They walked down the main road, chatting about his life at university, his music and his art. He valued her sincere interest, plus her request that he had to perform for her and show her his paintings, to which he agreed. Sam asked what filled her life at the moment.

  “Viruses, bacteria, diseases, immunity… I’m researching the genetic structure of them and developing ways to combat illness. However, I’m thinking of taking on a new contract in the near future, researching the human genome. ”

  “It sounds very important,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, I guess it is. I didn’t want to take the lab job at first, as I never expected your father to feel responsible for my career, but it’s turned out to be a real pivotal point in my life. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to join the Human Genome Project.”

  “I’m glad he’s done something positive for somebody,” he said, trying to hide his bitterness.

  Ava wanted to discuss the sideline research she and Tom were conducting, but she’d sworn him to non-disclosure and didn’t want to draw Sam into it. In many ways, the research terrified her even though it broke new ground, as it forced her to face the fact she was unique. Nobody wanted to be a freak of nature. It made the reasons for someone observing or spying on her become more sinister. What would happen if the medical establishment knew about this? What would Sam’s father do about it?

  Putting such thoughts to the back of their minds, they found a traditional local pub, complete with a pool table, and Sam placed a couple of coins on the table. Before too long, the table became free so he set up the balls in the triangle and took the break, sinking a red in the process. He strode around the table with confidence, but refrained from showing off. A small group of young women watched Sam with appreciation and Ava smiled to herself, however, he didn’t pay them any attention.

  After the pub, they found a Chinese restaurant not too far away and ate a meal, chatting about family and various things that had been happening. Ava glanced at her watch, shocked at the late hour and aware she’d had a few glasses of wine too many. It didn’t look like she’d be driving home tonight.

  “You can stay at mine,” Sam offered, “I don’t have uni in the morning.”

  Ava shook her head.

  “I’ve got work in the morning…”

  “Don’t be silly, you’re more than welcome. There’s no way you can drive home tonight.”

  She relented in the knowledge she was unfit to drive.

  “There’s nothing wrong with pulling the odd sickie,” Sam told her.

  They enjoyed the stroll back to his flat, laughing and joking about anything random that sprang to mind. As it was Halloween, people walked the streets, frequenting pubs and bars dressed up as witches, Frankenstein, Dracula or ghosts. The hour of night and the stiff breeze accentuated the atmosphere. On the main road, they encountered a young couple standing in the middle of the pavement, looking up at a second floor bay window, which was slightly open. Rather than walk past, Sam and Ava stopped to ask if they needed help.

  “We’ve lost the keys to our flat,” the man said, shivering a little as he wore no coat.

  “Don’t tell me,” Sam said, “you live on the second floor.”

  “Yeah,” the man replied, sheepish.

  “No problem,” Sam said.

  Before anyone could say anything, Sam leapt over the wall, grabbed hold of the drain pipe and proceeded to climb up it with incredible agility. Ava watched in admiration, the woman in the couple seemed concerned he’d fall while the man looked on, impressed. Sam reached the second floor window in no time, shimmying along the windowsill from the drain pipe without difficulty. Then he climbed through the open window, disappeared into the flat and he reappeared a few moments later at the main door on the ground floor. The couple were extremely grateful.

  “Most people don’t give a shit,” he said, “but thanks a million mate.”

  Sam shrugged.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “You wanna pop in for a beer?” the woman offered.

  Sam looked at Ava, she seemed easy either way, so he made the decision and declined the offer respectfully. They continued on their way, getting closer to Sam’s flat, which was just off the main road. Cutting through an alleyway, a frequent shortcut of Sam’s, a man stepped out from the shadows without warning. Sam and Ava stopped dead in their tracks as he brandished a knife.

  “I’m not carrying any money,” Sam said, staring at the man hard, not intimidated in the slightest.

  If anything, their assailant seemed shifty.

  “I will use this knife,” he remonstrated.

  Sam didn’t flinch, although he grabbed Ava’s arm as he addressed their potential attacker.

  “Like your mother did when she sliced her own wrists?” Sam said, with disdain. “She left you alone, with a younger brother to care for and a step-father who beat you both without mercy. Now your brother is a junkie and you’re a drug dealer. You live in squalor, not caring for the future or whether the next day will be different”.

  Their assailant began to freak, his hands shaking, his manner confused.

  Sam continued, “It’s only a matter of months before you find your brother dead and you’ll only outlive him by a year. Already, I can hear the clock ticking for you, the countdown has already begun. Maybe you should be careful who you buy from.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” the man cried, dropping his knife and running off. Ava didn’t know what to say, she looked at Sam with incredulity and some suspicion.

  “Did you know that guy?” she asked him.

  Sam shook his head, staring after him as he staggered down the alleyway.

  “Well, you seemed to know so much about him.”

  He shrugged. “I just see the truth, that’s all.”

  She still looked at him with a question mark on her face. Sam conceded that from her point of view, the whole thing did seem so peculiar, as he’d shown absolutely no fear, even when confronted by a knife wielding junkie. If anything, Sam felt pretty nonchalant about the incident, he knew they weren’t on the Grim Reaper’s list for the night.

  He opened the door of his flat and stepped aside, to allow Ava to enter first. Once inside, they hung up their coats. He crashed on the sofa and gestured for her to sit beside him, while she stood around looking a little reluctant.

  “This is all so weird,” she commented.

  Sam put his feet up and patted the empty space next to him. Giving a little sigh and a soft laugh, she kicked off her shoes and wandered over, sitting next to him.

  “Just relax,” Sam said, noting how nervous she suddenly appeared.

  “Sorry,” Ava said, “I just…never expected to be here.”


  He understood how awkward she felt. They had, after all, known each other since childhood and now had to adapt to a more adult friendship. Aware of the need to break the odd tension, he jumped up and sat down at the piano, playing a composition of his own. Ava reclined on the sofa and listened to the music, a melancholic, albeit meaningful melody that reminded one of lost opportunities, yet hope for the future.

  She hadn’t heard him play for a long time. Sam had always been talented and she felt a sense of exasperation sometimes at the attitude of his father, who couldn’t seem to recognise that fact. Thankfully, her mother and family had given Sam a lot of support, keeping a piano at their house so that could learn, away from the critical disdain of his father.

  After a while, Ava wandered over and sat next to him on the piano bench, as there was just enough room for two. He smiled and selected another tune, something familiar. The first few bars of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ rang out and without prompting, Ava added the lyrics. She had a smooth voice that held a tune, but a keen ear would recognise its lack of formal vocal training. Sam didn’t care, she provided the Yoko Ono to his John Lennon.

  “Better than ‘Chopsticks’, eh?” he queried with a laugh, after he’d played the final cords.

  “Well, I certainly feel more relaxed now.”

  He continued to play a greater range of tunes, some of them didn’t require lyrics, such as Dvorak’s ‘New World Symphony’, and some did. Sam performed a surprisingly tender rendition of ‘Nothing Compares To You’ by Sinead O’ Connor, which made the night memorable. Because Ava responded favourably to his voice and music, he continued to play well into the early hours of the morning. When it reached 2:00am, Sam sat back, feeling pretty exhausted. He reflected on the piano playing marathon that had just reached its conclusion.

  “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!” he joked.

  Ava laughed and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling equally tired. Sam made a suggestion.

  “There’s a sofa over there that’s reasonably comfortable, or there’s a king size bed that’s extremely comfortable.”