Her super-power is the ability to winnow her bookshelves without whining about it. Much.
43 Responses To "In Memory of Dr. Alexandra Nako"
Barbara A. Barnett
puppyhugs42
2-4-2016 12:03pm
Thanks so much for this post, Dr. Bates. Such a fitting tribute to a true pioneer in the field of near-death experience (NDE) research. Controversy over methodology be damned; you and Dr. Nako have done groundbreaking work. I know you're still crunching the data, but I truly believe your research will prove once and for all what those of us who've had NDEs know in our guts to be true: activity continues after the brain dies and the EEG goes flat.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 12:11pm
Agreed. I'm so sick of these narrow-minded skeptics acting like they know everything. There's something beyond death. Science backs it up. Dr. Nako is a martyr.
AlexandraNako
2-4-2016 12:16pm
You need to stop the research, Kevin. We were so wrong. Thear'eja;eaa;ed
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 12:21pm
@AlexandraNako: Insensitive username much? What a douche.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 12:32pm
@puppyhugs42: Thanks for the kind words. I hope I can do justice to Dr. Nako's contributions as I carry on our work. The American NDE Journal has shown interest in publishing our recent findings as part of a special tribute issue to her.
@Chekhov's Jellyfish: No insults please. I don't want another caveshark30 incident.
@AlexandraNako: Not funny, and not welcome on my blog. I lost a dear colleague this week and don't appreciate her passing being mocked.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 12:37pm
I miss caveshark30 and his crazy-fu. Always good for a laugh. Its been far too long since we've had an illiterate troll here blaming the president for everything.
SchlumpySpacePrincess
2-4-2016 12:39pm
@Chekhov's Jellyfish: *it's
AlexandraNako
2-4-2016 12:40pm
It's me, Kevin, I swear it. Ask me anything and I'll prove it. My favorite color, the last thing I ordered for lunch, whatever will convince you. But you have to listen to me and stop the research. If anyone else tries to replicate what we did they're going to unleash esfnaeaehxx
puppyhugs42
2-4-2016 12:50pm
I'm so sorry you have to deal with this, Dr. Bates. I'm not surprised by the onslaught of negative comments you've gotten from the skeptics on other posts, but making fun of someone's death is so utterly heartless.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 12:56pm
@puppyhugs42: Thank you.
@AlexandraNako: Fine, I'll play along with your twisted little joke: why should I stop? And if you're really Alexandra, you should be able to tell me what's in the middle drawer on the left side of her desk.
AlexandraNako
2-4-2016 12:58pm
All the drawers are on the right. The middle one has my journal (the one with the daisies on the cover), a bottle of hand lotion, a pack of tissues and a nail file. The last thing I wrote in the journal was my new password for the NDE Association discussion forum: LfrgH8M*. And you never call me Alexandra.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 1:04pm
Thanks, that narrows your identity down to people with access to Alex's desk. And you haven't answered my other question: why should I stop the research?
AlexandraNako
2-4-2016 1:05pm
It'aifjeawj;we
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 1:07pm
Nice typing, jerk.
AlexandraNako
2-4-2016 1:08pm
It won't let me tell you, Kevin. Every time I try to describe it, it's like I'm suffocating, like something heavy is forcing itself through every fiber of my being, trying to rip me apart. There's something beyond death, but it's not what we thought. There's no white light, no tunnel, no sense of peace. I know you wanted to believe that. I know you wanted to believe Lily is safe.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 1:12pm
AlexandraNako has been banned from making further comments on this blog. Based on the IP address, it sadly appears that someone at my own university is responsible for this nonsense. They will be found and held accountable. In the meantime, the best I can do is move on and continue the good work Dr. Nako and I started.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 1:15pm
Troll-lol-lol-lol-lol!
Lesley
2-4-2016 1:18pm
Um, guys? What if it's not a joke? All of us Near Death Experiencers know there's life after death, right? We've been there. Literally. So think about all of that equipment Dr. Nako was hooked up to when she died. What if she and Dr. Bates found a way to tap into the afterworld? Created a bridge or something. Maybe it's really her. Maybe we should listen.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 1:22pm
@lesley: People like you need to learn how science works. Your why no one takes NDE research seriously.
SchlumpySpacePrincess
2-4-2016 1:25pm
@Chekhov's Jellyfish: *You're
puppyhugs42
2-4-2016 1:26pm
@lesley: As much as I hate to say it, I agree with Chekhov's Jellyfish on this one. I know a lot people use NDEs to try and prove the existence of ghosts and other paranormal activity, but I personally haven't seen any compelling evidence supporting that.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 1:28pm
@SchlumpySpacePrincess: Do you ever post anything but grammer corrections? Find something useful to say or GTFO.
SchlumpySpacePrincess
2-4-2016 1:32pm
*grammar
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 1:35pm
Bite me nazi.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 1:42pm
Seriously, folks, be civil or the fake AlexandraNako won't be the only one banned.
LisaG
2-4-2016 2:39pm
Yikes, now I'm nervous about posting. I had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Nako after a talk she gave at my university a few years ago. She was a lovely person. But you have to admit that the ethics involved in this study are highly questionable. I know she was suffering. She likely didn't have much time left because of the cancer. But was the data gained really worth taking her own life? How much more could she have accomplished in the time she had left?
puppyhugs42
2-4-2016 3:12pm
@LisaG: Apparently Dr. Nako thought it was worth it. Terminally ill persons should have the right to die how they choose. I applaud Dr. Nako's bravery in making that decision in a way that furthers scientific discovery.
Dr_Alexandra_Nako
2-4-2016 3:16pm
You're not going to find what you're looking for, Kevin. There isn't going to be some white-lighted reunion with Lily and everyone else you ever loved. You're going to open a door that you can't shut. I got through, just barely. You don't want to know what I left behind me. It's going to get through too if you don't stop.
Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-4-2016 3:20pm
She's back! So how exactly does a dead person even post here? Are there computers in the afterlife? FOLKS, WE'VE GOT A REAL LIVE NDE EXPERIENCE IN ACTION HERE!
SchlumpySpacePrincess
2-4-2016 3:24pm
@Chekhov's Jellyfish: "NDE experience" is redundant
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 3:35pm
@Dr_Alexandra_Nako: I don't know who you are or why you're doing this, but it needs to stop. If you have a problem with my research, fine. LisaG expressed her thoughts on that matter quite civilly. But bringing up my daughter like that? It's sick.
Dr_Alexandra_Nako
2-4-2016 3:37pm
When she died you came into the lab drunk. Angry. You stumbled and knocked ov
er one of the portable work stations. The equipment was in pieces. I covered for you, said my sweater caught on the cart and pulled it over as I walked past. Who else but me knows that?
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 3:40pm
Dr_Alexandra_Nako has been banned and all posts associated with that username have been deleted.
alex
2-4-2016 4:53pm
I didn't want it to come to this, Kevin, but I will stop you myself if I have to. More people will die if this thing gets out.
puppyhugs42
2-4-2016 5:00pm
You should contact the authorities, Dr. Bates. This has gotten into harassment territory.
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-4-2016 6:16pm
@puppyhugs42: Thank you for your concern.
@alex: I've figured out which terminal you're posting from. Security is on the way, and so am I.
alex
2-4-2016 6:17pm
Please don't make me do this.
alex
2-4-2016 6:25pm
I'm so sorry, Kevin.
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Chekhov's Jellyfish
2-5-2016 9:24am
Spam clean up in aisle 4!
puppyhugs42
2-5-2016 10:38am
I'm worried, Dr. Bates is usually more on top of deleting that stuff. Please post soon and let us know you're ok, Dr. B!
Dr. Kevin Bates
2-5-2016 12:16pm
http://www.NDEassociation.org/news/05feb16/NDE-pioneer-kevin-bates-found-dead-in-apparent-homicide.html
* * *
Comments on this post are now closed.
This story originally appeared in the Daily Science Fiction magazine, 2016.
Barbara A. Barnett is a writer, musician, orchestra librarian, coffee addict, wine lover, and all-around geek. Her short fiction has appeared in publications such as Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show, Daily Science Fiction, and Flash Fiction Online. She is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop and currently serves as managing editor of the workshop's blog. Barbara lurks about the Philadelphia area, where she lives with her husband and a pantsless stuffed monkey named Super Great. You can find her online at www.babarnett.com.
Kvetchula's Daughter
Darrell Schweitzer
THE DAY MY MOTHER became a vampire, she ruined my life. I didn't know it at the time, and I'm sure she didn't have time to think about it—I have to admit that being dead and coming back to life more-or-less can be distracting—but that's God's honest truth and if I were of a slightly different persuasion I'd add "cross my heart and hope to die."
Give me a break!
It wasn't as if I were not beside myself with worry, what with Momma and Poppa off on their trip to Romania, he being, though he is my father and I love him, such a nebbish he never stood up to her about anything, so when he booked the two of them on that Dracula Fan Club tour or whatever it was with non-refundable tickets, you could have heard Momma's jaw drop in Brooklyn, as she observed at the time, and we don't live anywhere near Brooklyn.
My Poppa, he was bats about bats, and about Dracula and Children of the Night and all that stuff. He had a vampire-movie collection like you wouldn't believe. I think it was the one thing Momma couldn't take away from him. After I went off to college and they were alone, he got even battier, and so they went on this tour that was supposed last two weeks, and after they didn't come back and I didn't hear a thing from them for six months, you think I shouldn't worry?
It was one thing, that two weeks, during my spring break, me back in the old house, watching Poppa's movies when there was nothing else to do—he really does have a dubbed copy of Mein Yiddishe Drakula—and taking care of the cats. The cats, Elvira and Vlad. Poppa named them before Momma could. Just as well because she probably would have called them Pusscha and Poopsie.
Me, I am nothing like my mother, which is just as well, but I have to worry.
My putzy, sometime boyfriend Max, he says maybe they were carried off by the fairies, and I said no, in the Balkans you get carried off by the Gypsies. Ireland, fairies, Romania, Gypsies. Got it?
So Max, not worrying—I should have shot him—says, "Maybe Dracula turned her into a vampire . . ." and I have to laugh, despite my worries, because Momma is so short. What would she do, stand on a stepladder so she can reach people's necks to bite them?
Max has no idea what he is talking about.
THEN THE PACKAGES ARRIVE, delivered by Gypsies. The truck says Transylvanian Parcel Service, but I know these guys are Gypsies because what kind of delivery men wear scarves and earrings and make jokes about pulling one over on the gajos while hauling these enormous packages into the living room? I have to make sure the silverware doesn't disappear.
Max and I are left staring at these two boxes the size of phonebooths, which are marked DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SUNDOWN, but today is Tuesday so the Shabbat rules do not apply, so what the Hell does this mean, I want to know.
Nevertheless, it is getting late and starting to get dark, and God knows what's inside these packages, so we close the curtains. Then Max and I whack away at the first crate with hammers and big screwdrivers. Dirt pours out onto Momma's immaculate living-room rug, and the lid comes off, and inside is a coffin packed in more dirt. To get that open, we have to remove a whole bunch of silver nails, which are probably worth something, so I put them carefully aside.
The coffin lid creaks open just like in the movies. As soon as Momma, lying inside it, sees the hammer in my hand, and I see her, we both scream so loudly we could split the eardrums of everybody from Jersey City to Canton, China. She clutches her chest and says, "Go ahead, drive a stake through your poor mother's heart. You've already broken it!"
I let the hammer drop to the floor. It lands on my foot. While I'm hopping around in pain, I say, "I have?"
And Momma, she looks so weird, I should say terrible, her hair all frizzed up and tangled, her nails like claws, her face so pale and sunken like a balloon that's lost most of its air, and her eyes so dark and somehow burning that I can't look away from them; Momma, she turns to Max (who also drops his hammer but misses his foot) and says, "No mother, living or dead, wants to come home after so many trials and tribulations, to find out her daughter's still messing with a sheygets."
"But Mom—" I say.
"But nothing. When are you going to get a serious boyfriend, somebody with a future, somebody you can marry, one of your own kind?"
Max blurts out, "Who said anything about marriage?"
I stare at her, dumbfounded. Max is a bit of a doofus. He works in a flower shop and makes tie-died T-shirts on weekends and would have been a hippie if he'd been born a generation earlier. Maybe he's not such a good prospect, but this is a stupid time to bring this up.
Apropos of not knowing what else to say, I get defensive. "But Momma, I like Max."
Max beams at me like a dope, "You do?"
I don't bother to explain that much of the time I'm not entirely sure of that because Max does have his shortcomings. But before I can utter another word Momma gets out of that coffin, opens her mouth to reveal huge, dripping fangs, and slinks over to Max in a way that no respectable short, zaftig, middle-aged woman should, and says, "Well if you're going to marry him, he has to convert." She pronounces it "convoit," her accent having somehow grown a lot thicker.
I stamp my foot (not the one the hammer had landed on) and shake my finger at her. "Momma, we've been over this before! Get used to it! Max doesn't want to become a Jew!"
Momma's fangs somehow arc out of her mouth the way a rattlesnake's do and still
(I have no idea how) she's able to say, "That's not what I have in mind."
Now there's a loud pounding from inside the other box. Momma pulls back, her fangs disappear back into her mouth, and she looks as close to normal as she is going to since stepping out of that coffin. She is Momma again and she's giving orders.
Funny Horror (Unidentified Funny Objects Annual Anthology Series of Humorous SF/F) Page 3