by Jon Jacks
‘No way! Who do you think I am? Einstein? I said it might be possible. But really, it would have to be a whole lot simpler than a mass of formulae if there’s any hope of anyone using it!’
‘But this might be the book they’re after, might it? A book providing answers to any problem you might face–’
‘A theoretical book I’ve actually got no chance whatsoever of completing!’
‘The Book of Jasmine; it has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘Sounds a bit pretentious! Like it’s some kind of mystical book!’
‘But isn’t that exactly what an angel would be wanting? A mystical book?’
‘A book that’s not even written.’
‘One that’s circulating in your head.’
A young girl is heading our way.
I can’t help but notice her as, far from crossing the road to avoid us, she’s actually smiling at me.
Jodie. Or is it Jolie? She’s from our school anyway. So she should be definitely making sure our paths don’t cross.
‘Hi Jaz, Pat,’ she cries out happily.
‘Hi,’ we reply.
‘Gariel sent me,’ she says, drawing closer.
‘Gariel?’
‘You know, Jaz: the man you probably think is an angel.’
*
Chapter 18
‘You’ve met him? You’ve met the angel?’
‘He saved my life; like he saved yours.’
‘When? When did he save your life?’
‘When Mary died. I would have died too, if Gariel hadn’t saved me.’
‘How do you know his name’s Gariel? What do you mean, when Mary died?’
This is crazy! I don’t know which of the questions I’ve got flowing around my head to ask her first.
‘Why did he save you? No, no sorry; I’m asking you too many questions aren’t I?’
She giggles.
I still haven’t asked her for her name!
That will have to wait.
‘Okay, okay,’ I say, trying to slow my own whirling mind down. ‘Mary first, right? Do you mean you were there when Mary died?’
She nods.
‘She was pulling me. That’s why we both ended up out in the road.’
‘What was she pulling you for?’
‘Because she was Mary. She was always hitting me, teasing me. She said she was going to throw me in front of the next car. Laughing, like it was a joke. When the car came, I didn’t think she really meant to do it; but she did.’
‘But she stumbled, ending up falling in front of it instead of you?’ Pat frowns as he tries to guess what might have happened.
‘More or less,’ Jodie/Jolie agrees. ‘Although she also took me with her. We would both have died if Gariel hadn’t saved me.’
‘Probably how he saved me,’ I say, looking at Pat. ‘But why you Jodie? Why did he save you?’
‘Jolie,’ she says with a wide smile, correcting me. ‘And he saved me because he said I was destined to be one of the first Blessed Jasmines – and that you would let me know more about that when the time was right!’
*
Jolie hadn’t mentioned to anyone that she had been present at Mary’s death.
‘Who’d believe me? You know, when I said I would’ve died too if an angel hadn’t rescued me? I knew I’d just get into trouble. Someone would start saying I must’ve somehow made Mary end up in the road.’
‘Why didn’t he save Mary if he was there? It wouldn’t have been too hard, would it?’
I say it out loud, but I’m not really expecting Jolie to have an answer.
‘I asked him that. He said it was her time.’
‘Her time?’ Pat repeats. ‘As in her time to die?’
Jolie nods, her eyes bright.
‘It has to be as it was written, Gariel said; or something like that.’
‘And how do know his name.’
‘I asked him,’ she says innocently.
I never thought of asking him his name. It seemed a bit impolite somehow, a bit silly, asking an angel if he has a name.
‘Did he tell you anything else before he left you?’ Pat asks.
‘He didn’t tell me his name the first time. I asked him his name the second time he came to me.’
‘He came to you again? He had to rescue you once more?’
‘No, not rescue me!’ She says it like she’s having to answer a ridiculous question. ‘He came to me to say you would need my help.’
‘When? When did he visit you? And how are you supposed to help us?’
‘Just an hour ago. He said I’d soon know how I could help you. He said that you would let–’
‘I would let you know, right?’
She nods ferociously, her eyes sparkling with eagerness.
‘Thing is Jolie, I’m afraid I haven’t got the faintest idea what I’m supposed to be doing. So I don’t know how you’re supposed to help me!’
Jolie looks a little hurt by my frustrated outburst.
‘Sorry Jolie, sorry! I’m not angry at you, honest! I’m just…just so exasperated because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to do for him! I don’t even know what these Blessed Jasmines are that he says you’re going to be!’
‘One of the first one-hundred and fifty-three, Gariel said!’
Her whole face lights up.
‘You sure you didn’t ask the angel what he meant?’ I say.
‘Angel,’ Jolie giggles. ‘I thought he was an angel too!’
‘Thought he was an angel? Meaning what exactly? That he isn’t an angel?’
She both nods and shakes her head, like she’s unsure what the correct response to my various questions should be. She laughs.
‘How do you know he’s not an angel?’ I say.
‘I asked him.’
‘Figures. And he said – what?’
‘He laughed. He said he wouldn’t want me thinking that he was an angel; he said it might cause complications.’
‘Complications? How would thinking he’s an angel cause complications?’ Pat voices the question that was on the tip of my own tongue.
‘And if he’s not an angel, how does he happen to have all these powers?’ I say, wondering if we’ve just been presented with yet another mystery to solve.
‘I asked him that,’ Jolie says. ‘He said that if I could travel back to, say, Elizabethan times, wouldn’t the technology I carried with me seem like magic to them?’
‘He’s from the future?’ Pat’s enthralled, amazed. ‘Is that what you mean?’
‘Oh, I didn’t ask him that.’
‘Is that possible?’ Pat now looks bewildered. ‘To travel back into the past from the future? Isn’t that impossible?’
‘A few days ago,’ I say, ‘I would have thought being saved from an oncoming bus would have been impossible.’
*
Chapter 19
‘No, no; it still doesn’t make sense,’ Pat insists as we sit down around his computer. ‘There’s all that thing about travelling back into the past being impossible! If you killed an ancestor, you wouldn’t exist. And so you wouldn’t be around to go back and kill him.’
‘So don’t kill your ancestor,’ I say smugly, even though I know what Pat means and I agree with him.
Jolie chuckles.
Pat purses his lips, like he’s not quite sure if I’m joking or not.
‘Jaz, you’re bright enough to know that paradox applies to any small change you might make. Over the years, the knock on effects become so huge that the time you came from has changed. Chances are, even if you’re around, you wouldn’t be involved in any time travel project, even if it is up and running.’
I nod.
Jolie nods. She understands too.
‘So, is he an alien then?’ I say. ‘All these powers; that could make sense.’
‘So now we’re saying someone coming back from the future’s impossible,’ Jolie says, ‘but an alien visiting us? Hey, why not? That�
�s real easy, isn’t it?’
We all swap amused glances.
‘Okay Pat,’ I say, ‘so what have you got to show me?’
Pat calls up on screen a few grabs he’s saved.
‘That scale you mentioned? The Solfeggio scale? It turns out that used to be the scale everyone used way back when all those monks were chanting their praises to God.’
Reaching for a tuning fork, he taps it on the edge of the table.
‘That’s an A above middle C,’ Jolie says.
Pat’s impressed.
‘She’s right. This is our, modern standard tuning fork. Vibrating at 440 cycles per second. And you know why that’s unusual?’
I’ve no idea. Thankfully Jolie excitedly answers for me.
‘It’s only divisible by two rather than three; the frequency I mean. And all the other notes both above and below it are affected too.’
Pat’s even more impressed.
‘You like music, obviously.’
‘Sure; I’d like to be a singer, in a band. But I love all those mystical, chanting tones too. They really seem to penetrate deep inside you, know what I mean?’
Pat nods.
‘I do now, thanks to what we’ve been finding out.’
He points to the figures he’s called up on the screen.
‘This is the Solfeggio scale; UT, RE, MI, FA, SOL, LA. See this Jaz; MI? That’s the 528 hertz we’re so interested in. The MI–ra gestorum; that’s Latin for miracle.’
He calls up another page, this time one of an intense close up of what looks like hexagonal crystals.
‘The clustered water molecules forming the supportive matrix of healthy DNA,’ Pat explains. ‘And guess what frequency they vibrate at? 528 cycles per second, our “miracle” frequency.’
‘If my geometry serves me correctly,’ I add, ‘you draw hexagons using intersecting circles. Which means the distance between parallel sides is our square root of three again.’
‘So if these frequencies are so good for us,’ Jolie says, having quickly latched on to where all this is leading, ‘why did we change to our modern standard scale?’
‘Well, funnily enough,’ Pat answers, ‘it seems the changeover was backed by both the Rockefeller Foundation and Hitler’s Third Reich. And whatever you want to read into that, that’s up to you.’
*
If this Gariel really is from the future, does that mean our futures are all neatly laid out for us?
How would we go about finding out what’s waiting for us?
Could this be something to do with the book Gariel’s expecting of me?
Is this what my Book of Jasmine’s supposed to be about?
A way of predicting the problems lying ahead of us. A way of setting out the ways we should approach those problems, to lessen or even negate their effect?
Would it be possible to create such a book, utilising the discoveries we’re making here?
Natural frequencies. Hexagons. DNA – perhaps linked in some way to something like the unique arrangement of chromosomes it’s made up of?
Is this the book I’m supposed to write?
*
A relaxing, sonorous tone fills the room.
‘This is MI,’ Pat explains.
The continuous note is emanating from the speakers of Pat’s computer.
He’s got it turned up way loud, as his mum and dad are out and the nearest houses are either side of their large garden.
‘It’s like a mantra; like the humming of Tibetan monks.’
Jolie has her eyes closed, like she’s meditating. She’s beaming, happy.
‘I think America’s Indian tribes used to use something similar in their rituals,’ she adds dreamily.
‘Ah, I knew Jolie would be of help to you!’
It’s Gariel.
And he’s standing right alongside us in Pat’s room.
*
Chapter 20
Within the confines of Pat’s room, Gariel’s glow seems more intense, more painful to the eyes, than ever.
We’ve all instinctively jumped out of our chairs. Pat immediately switches off the humming tone.
I could be wrong, but Gariel’s glow seems to flicker and fade slightly. Even so, he’s still shining, sparkling, as if he were made of nothing but vibrating light.
‘Was it the tone? Did it call you?’ I ask.
‘Even a bee, through the flapping of its wings, creates an electromagnetic charge that dislodges the pollen it seeks. Even a spider’s web can turn that same charge to its advantage, drawing the bee into its embrace. The queen of an ant colony transmits her building plans to her workers from far away; and when she dies, all work in the colony stops. If insects can do this, why not man?’
Wow. How comes Jolie gets straight answers to her questions but all I get is all this?
‘The Schumann frequencies influence the weather, and those same frequencies are produced in our brains. Just like the animals, in earlier times we were connected to the group consciousness. You returned that understanding to us. Without relationships, we are nothing. With relationships, we are everything.’
‘I wrote that? You sure? It’s all pretty deep and mystical for me! I’m not sure I even understand what you’re saying.’
‘I must not aid you more than is necessary.’
‘I think I understand.’ Jolie could be one of those kids who think they’ve seen the Virgin Mary, going by her ecstatic expression. ‘If you can’t relate to someone, they mean nothing to you, right?’
Gariel nods, smiles like he’s waiting for her to continue.
Jolie closes her eyes, as if she’s meditating again, as if she’s drawing her inspiration from somewhere or something outside herself.
‘But if you have a strong relationship with someone, they change you, and you change them. So it isn’t the physical body that’s important, but the relationships flowing between us, linking us.’
She opens her eyes, gasps like she’s just come up for air after being underwater too long.
She smiles ecstatically.
Her eyes shine.
When Gariel was talking, was I right when I heard him say ‘in our brains’? Which would mean, as Jolie said earlier, that he’s a man, not an angel.
‘Gariel – what are you? You’re not an angel, right?’
He bows his head slightly, demurely.
‘I am a Prefect of The Perfection.’
‘The Perfection?’ Pat pulls a puzzled frown. ‘Is that some kind of… what… religious cult or something?’
Gariel chuckles quietly.
‘The Perfection is the religion of my time.’
‘The future? You’re from the future?’
He nods in answer to my question.
‘So this book you’re expecting me to produce; is it the Book of Jasmine?’
He laughs again.
‘So much more is expected of you, Jasmine! Yes, the Book of Jasmine is regarded by many as an admirable work; but it is not the Book!’
‘So that’s at least two books expected of me. And I haven’t written either one of them yet!’
‘Should we say, you are predicted to write it?’
He grins wryly at his own joke.
‘Are you saying the future can be predicted?
‘For the many, yes; their future is already written. But you are not of the many. So you may alter it, and alter it too for the many. Your influence will be timeless, as my own presence demonstrates.’
‘But all this is crazy! You’re making me sound like some kind of god!’
‘No no; not at all. But you showed us that we are all God, in our way.’
‘You’re just making me more confused with all these riddles!’
‘These are truths.’
He smiles.
He shimmers, vibrates.
He vanishes.
*
‘Isn’t all this something like that paradox you mentioned?’ Jolie says before I can give Pat a high five for
his work on the frequencies.
‘The time paradox, you mean?’ Pat asks.
Jolie nods, her face a picture of childish innocence. She’s one of those girls who looks at least two years younger than she actually is, yet it’s a face hiding an obviously sharp mind.
‘If Jaz doesn’t do what’s expected of her, then Gariel wouldn’t be who he is. So he wouldn’t come back here, would he? Yet he said that Jaz’s life isn’t predetermined like everyone else’s. But if she does what’s expected of her, obviously it is.’ She stares at us both, wide eyed. ‘Does that make sense?’
‘In the sense that you’re saying it’s confusing, yeah.’ Pat nods in agreement.
‘So, if I don’t do what’s expected of me, he wouldn’t be who is, so he wouldn’t be here?’
Jolie looks as bright-eyed as the sweetest little deer you’ve ever seen as she nods away.
‘Phew,’ Pat sighs. ‘We could all get a little bit lost in our thoughts here; but, as he is here, then that means…’
He pauses, like he’s trying to work it all out in his head before he goes any further. Or like he’s already lost and confused.
‘That he could be from a parallel world!’
As Jolie elatedly finishes his sentence for him, Pat’s face lights up.
‘Yes! Of course! That’s how the time paradox has always been resolved! You can’t go back in time within your own past! But you can slip over into the past of a parallel world!’
He slips back into his chair, starts typing urgently on the computer keyboard.
‘I don’t need to tell either of you what a parallel world is, right?’
‘Right,’ I say.
Every time a choice is offered to someone, every possible outcome takes place, each outcome creating a whole new, parallel world. Some of these worlds are almost like our own. Many diverged long ago, so that we would find them unrecognisable.
‘Wow! Got it straight away!’ Pat leans back and swings the screen around so we can get a clearer look.
‘To get here, they’d have to use something like a wormhole – a warped area of space-time creating a tunnel, right? So I searched “wormhole” with what we’ve been working on; “frequencies”.’
He points to the fifth item on the google page: ‘Wormholes in Our DNA.’
The words beneath point to a further connection: ‘The scientists also proved that using frequency can repair ... found out that our DNA can produce magnetized wormholes.’