Seven Point Eight

by Marie Harbon

  She sat up, realising bed time called them both. Sam gazed at her expectantly and she lowered her eyes.

  “It’s not right,” she replied.

  “What’s not right?”

  “You’re family, I can’t share a bed…”

  “We used to all the time, remember? I used to knock on the door of your bedroom, and ask for a cuddle because of the monsters in my room.”

  “That was different,” she argued gently, “we were kids….”

  “I’m just thinking of your comfort.”

  He stood up and walked to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. Ava remained rooted to the piano bench, no, she couldn’t… Sam took off his shirt, threw it on the bed and walked back towards Ava. He stood in the doorway, hands lightly gripping the frame overhead.

  “Which are you going to choose? I’ve attained grade 5 in Awesome Cuddles, you know.” he asked her.

  He successfully diffused the awkward tension and Ava laughed, unable to resist the puppy dog eyes he expressed. She stood up and wandered over, standing before him. Ava felt disturbed that she found his body erotic, even though technically she had no blood tie to him. Sam’s lean musculature looked natural, not forced and to her embarrassment, she found herself staring. Sam knew what she was thinking.

  “Is there anything I could wear to sleep in?” she asked.

  Sam paused, watching her wandering eyes and enjoying the effect he had upon her. He searched his wardrobe for an old t shirt and handed it to her, resisting the temptation to peep as she changed, and slipped into a pair of jogging bottoms to preserve some modesty. Normally, he’d sleep naked but that wasn’t appropriate tonight.

  They lay on top of the covers, chatting and laughing, no pressures, no pretences, and no mention of his father. They remembered the good times in their normally sad childhood, although began to reflect on all the missing pieces as the clock ticked into the early hours of the morning. Whereas most children grew up with a clear idea of where they came from, this security had been denied them all their life. The mystery status of his mother reared its ugly head again.

  “I wonder if she’d be proud of me, if we ever crossed paths,” he wondered aloud.

  “Of course she would, you’re kind and talented.”

  Sam rolled onto his side, looking wistful.

  “Do you ever imagine what your real parents would think if they could see you?”

  Ava mirrored his position as she answered.

  “Sometimes. I don’t know if my mother watches me from some kind of spirit world, science doesn’t really allow for that concept. My father…I guess if he never stepped forward to claim me after her death, he doesn’t really care. I’m a Kavanagh, and their support means everything to me.”

  Sam propped himself up on his elbow.

  “You still want to know who they are though, don’t you?”

  “One day…maybe one day.”

  He made her feel at ease as they joined together in a friendly embrace. In the back of her mind, she was afraid of the truth. Not only did she seem to possess a super-human immune system, but she knew little of her origins too. However, another truth began to emerge from her subconscious. She felt attracted to Sam and he was attracted to her.

  Was that so wrong?

  Was that so very wrong?

  16

  Satus

  Eight planets in addition to Mother Earth, eight targets for exploration. The possibility of consciousness taking a photon-like form excited him, along with the potential to travel across the far reaches of space. So far, the bond between consciousness and body hadn’t been broken and Paul wondered if there was a natural ‘stretching point’ for this connection. Hopefully, God had included an inbuilt safety mechanism in his design.

  Tahra breezed in, punctual and enthusiastic, although she found it difficult to meet his gaze. He sensed how awkward she probably felt about their discussion at the New Year masquerade ball, and contemplated addressing the issue. However, he realised that might simply increase her level of embarrassment so he chose to discuss her abilities.

  “Ready for some space exploration?”

  “It’s what I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been perfecting my lunar orbit,” she declared.

  Paul let loose a chuckle.

  “The Space Race is so behind the times,” he commented.

  “Where are we going today?”

  “Well,” Paul began, tentatively, “I thought we’d leave the safety of the Earth and start to push onward.”

  “I wondered when we’d get past the warm up.”

  She placed her bag down and flopped into the hot seat, relieved her declaration of love could crawl back under the rock where it temporarily belonged. Paul idly watched her with admiration, and she met his gaze briefly.

  He produced an illustration, which indicated the next assignment. Tahra looked at a picture of the solar system, with an arrow pointing to the fourth planet, a location map using a backdrop of constellations, and some artists’ representations of the planet he wished her to remote view.

  “Mars, the red planet, regarded as the God of War in mythology and it’s also our neighbour in space. It featured as the home planet of the invaders in ‘War of the Worlds’…you know, ‘the chances of anything coming from Mars…” he began to sing. When she didn’t recognise the tune, he continued. “Anyway, as of 1965, no probe has landed on Mars, although Mariner 4 is due to fly past it in the summer of 1965. I assume you’ve never been to Mars in your spare time,” he mused.

  “This will be much harder though,” she pointed out, “as I only have drawings to work from.” Realising it sounded negative, she added, “Not that I shirk from a challenge.”

  Getting comfortable in the chair, she closed her eyes and held an image of Mars in her mind’s eye. It wasn’t easy focusing on extra-terrestrial targets but she prompted herself.

  You can do this. What does a little bit of outer space matter in the grand scheme of things?

  With a metaphorical kick up her own backside, she felt the usual psychological surge, soon finding herself poised above their home planet. A lucid stillness enveloped her consciousness with its cool fingers of serenity, yet she allowed a nagging doubt to claw scratch away at the delicate surface of her peace bubble.

  Tahra opened her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul asked, disappointed.

  “I’m used to working from maps, or objects that are obvious, easy to find. I can reach the moon because I can see it in the sky and know where it is, but Mars is so far away.”

  He rubbed his chin and considered her words.

  “If anyone can achieve this, you can. Remember, consciousness isn’t limited like the physical body. That’s why we’re using remote viewing to explore the solar system. I’m not sure how you reach a destination, but try to feel it, try to touch the red planet, let its gravity reel you in, if that makes any sense.”

  Putting negative talk to the back of her mind was easier said than done, but she didn’t want to disappoint Paul, even though it was impossible to ignore the distance and the enormous degree of separation from her body.

  Okay, red planet…gravity…reel me in…

  Closing her eyes, she infused her will with added determination. A small, reddish-orange ball of light grew larger as she pushed towards it, and she sensed her target lay within her grasp. The effort to reach it seemed greater than her previous journeys and as she drew close, she felt a sensation of winding down, like a clockwork toy. Maybe with regular practice she could overcome this, but how long would that take? It could take years. With one last push, that reddish-orange globe lay beneath her.

  I’m even further from home.

  It actually looks quite dirty in comparison to the Earth.

  No human eye has witnessed this before though.

  Mars lacked the vivid blues, greens, oranges, and white hues of Earth. It truly felt alien. While she felt at peace in the orbit of Earth, Mars had a different ‘aura’, or vibrati
on. Tahra moved into the atmosphere, feeling like a spaceship ready to drop its landing gear. Beneath her, she viewed a barren desert and allowed the planet’s natural magnetism to draw her in for a closer look. She found the surface to be a desolate place with rusty red rocks strewn around the lifeless landscape. Looking up at the sky, she saw a point of light like a large star, attempting to offer its meagre illumination to the planet’s surface.

  That must be the sun.

  I’m so far away from the father, the giver of light and life.

  It really does feel like no place on Earth.

  How can a place feel so lifeless?

  I’m so alone, lonelier than ever.

  Out here, you can only face yourself.

  Are we ready to do that?

  Tahra returned to orbit and tried to find the Earth, but when she realised she couldn’t find it, she felt a growing sense of panic. Becoming stranded at the level of consciousness became a potential reality. There was only one way to return. Tahra opened her eyes and endured the unpleasant jolt back into her body. It felt like falling out of bed and hitting the floor with a thud.

  After a moment of silence, she announced, “I visited the red planet.”

  “This is the most ground breaking OOBE so far,” Paul commented. “I’m…in awe.”

  “It was lonely,” she said quite flatly, trying to recover her composure.

  “What did you see?”

  Drawing from her initial thoughts, she replied, “Something so extraordinarily alien. I’ve never experienced such a sense of desolation.”

  “Was it beautiful?”

  “I don’t think beautiful is the word but it was vivid, a very lucid experience…a little unsettling though.”

  Her inability to express the experience fully and share it with Paul disappointed her. Some reconnaissance service she offered.

  “Okay, we’re going to need to record this in the OOBE diary. Detailed accounts will ensure we get funded in excess of twelve months. Do you think you can put your experience into words?”

  She nodded and Paul grabbed a journal, in which he began to scribble whatever issued from her lips. Eventually, she gave precise details about the landscape, the view from orbit, and her overall journey.

  “This is excellent,” he commented. “I’ve identified an artist who can produce some sketches based on your descriptions.”

  Her account wouldn’t be corroborated until a spacecraft landed on Mars, but for the time being he believed her without doubt.

  “Where next?” she queried.

  “Well…our next trip is scheduled around Valentine’s Day. I thought a visit to the Goddess of Love should be the next destination. Tahra, I want you to remote view Venus.”

  ***

  A conflict of heart tainted Valentine’s Day. He felt obliged to spend the day with Eleanor, yet he really wanted to work on the project with Tahra. With a dream to pursue and a vision to turn to reality, he found the whole process of discovery addictive. However, the nature of the day implied he needed to do something romantic. In the dichotomy of relationships and objectives, the project won.

  Neither Paul nor Tahra mentioned the theme of the day, despite Venus being the destination. Everyone had preconceptions about the planet, yet no one had pierced the veil of dense cloud that covered the planet. Paul considered it essential to check out the neighbours first before exploring the rest of the street.

  “What can I expect?” Tahra queried, easing into the hot seat once more.

  “Well, it’s closer to the Sun, which means hotter surface temperatures and therefore, it’s not a likely target for future colonisation. No probe has been sent to land there by either the Soviets or Americans to date, although the American probe Mariner 2 made a flyby in December 1962.”

  “What else do you know about it?”

  “The ancients regarded it as the planet of love and beauty, due to it being the brightest planet in the sky. Some more ancient texts refer to it as Lucifer, light of the morning.”

  She nodded, adjusted herself for comfortable and closed her eyes.

  Goddess of Love and Beauty, I can’t wait to see your magnificence.

  Once she had her bearings, provided by Paul’s map of the constellations with Venus’s current position marked from the Earth’s perspective, she allowed her consciousness to issue from a point between her brows. Bolstered by Paul’s faith in her, she visualised her intended destination, using the constellations.

  The planet loomed into view, a yellow-orange orb that lacked the vivid canvas of Earth. It didn’t match her expectations in that respect, and she wondered if what lay beneath equalled beauty. She pushed her consciousness through the dense, choking clouds which seemed quite acrid, even though she didn’t breathe its atmosphere.

  Tahra discovered a world that suggested not heaven, but its antithesis. It felt turbulent, oppressive, and desolate. If she were in her physical body, the atmospheric pressure would crush her and she sensed a force trying to intrude on her senses. Winds howled around her, and although she couldn’t actually hear it, she felt something quite violent attempting to subdue her into submission. The sight of the clouds blowing above at a fierce pace gave her a perception of movement.

  A sea of lava advanced beneath her, like some latent inferno or an advancing army of molten rock. She looked around and realised Venus had a volcanic environment, quite mountainous in places with dark soil, topped with a virulent atmosphere.

  Oh Venus, you’re no vision of love and beauty, you’re a picture of hell, without the demons and eternal damnation.

  You’re no goddess; you’re a bitch, a psychotic, fiery virago that will consume anyone who even attempts to touch you.

  You must have inspired the Catholic’s notion of purgatory.

  She didn’t like this world, so Tahra gritted her teeth, opened her eyes and jolted back into her body.

  “I don’t have to return there, do I?” she asked,

  “Well…unless I need to verify the reliability of your journeys. Was Venus so terrible?”

  Tahra sighed, feeling drained and because she looked tired, Paul put his arms around her without thinking. Taken by surprise, she didn’t resist as no man had comforted her or given affection since Max. The Goddess of Love might have decided to bless her after all.

  “I’m so proud of you and what you’ve achieved so far,” he told her.

  Without considering the message he communicated to her, Paul brushed the hair away from her face. Without thinking of the consequences, she leaned close and kissed him as a lover would do. Without resistance, he reciprocated.

  She broke away and looked at him, wondering whether or not to take the situation further. The time they’d spent together on a shared passion, this mutual vision brought dividends. Surely he must realise that the relationship needed to become more than professional, it had a life and momentum of its own, no matter the consequences. Would they regret it, or would they be perfectly matched? What about Eleanor? Yes, what about Eleanor?

  Tahra threw caution to the wind. Paul was the man for her, not Max. Destiny had offered her a man of kindness, warmth, passion, with a desire to share his life and work. He didn’t hide anything and possessed charisma to compliment his intelligence. It was now or never.

  “I want you to make love to me,” she declared.

  Paul stopped dead, his admiration for her clear to see, but he didn’t know what to say. Did he regret reciprocating that kiss, and did he want to take things further? Tahra placed her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes, still aiming to persuade.

  “I want you to be my first lover,” she continued. “I’m still a virgin, you know.”

  He took hold of her hands and she felt a fleeting hope that he’d accept the offer but he didn’t reciprocate, he merely released her hands and stroked her face.

  “I’m sorry, Tahra. It’s not you, it’s the situation. I can’t do this to Eleanor.”

  She lowered her eyes, aware of the sinking feeling i
n her heart and the error of judgement she’d just made. His respect for ethics and his strong principles only made her value him more, despite the refusal. Looking regretful, he turned his attention to his journal, although he just held it in his hands and closed his eyes. What thoughts ran through his mind?

  Instead of giving up hope, Tahra decided next time she’d just have to try harder and unleash her talents upon him. He carried some kind of torch for her, and wasn’t a lost cause in the slightest. It was simply a matter of time before she got what she wanted.

  ***

  Paul returned home wondering what it would have been like to accept her enticing offer. She exuded a sensuality and drive that Eleanor didn’t possess. However, they had to maintain a professional relationship, especially with the months of close contact that lay ahead. He sighed and collapsed into his favourite armchair, running his hands through his hair. It wouldn’t be the last time this opportunity would arise and he wondered if he’d hold out, or cave in to her seduction.

  Tahra seemed too good to be true though, but she was true and he’d never, ever find another woman like her. Entering the kitchen, he found Eleanor preparing something to eat. At first, he didn’t meet her gaze and she immediately became a little suspicious. He wondered if Eleanor knew she was losing him, as the passion had gone and surely, she could see it in his eyes. He recognised that too, but the most disturbing fact was that he no longer cared it had gone.

  ***

  Paul’s forty-fourth birthday passed with a whimper. He shut himself away in his study with a typewriter and Billie Holliday playing in the background, evading contact with the outside world. When he emerged late that night, Eleanor appeared weary, unable to understand why he’d wanted to spend his birthday alone and she received no explanation from him. The project consumed his passions in a way that she couldn’t, and no woman wanted to hear that. Tahra belonged in that sphere of interest, she didn’t, and he often looked forward to their meetings, despite the fact that Tahra was, actually, the cause of his relationship difficulties.

  As Tahra bounced into The Establishment one morning late in February, Paul sat in his office with the radio on, typing up the day’s objectives. The Seekers sang ‘I’ll Never Find Another You’ in the background, causing Paul and Tahra to exchange a shy but knowing glance.