by Ron S. Nolan
Astra decided that she needed time to sort things out. “I am still analyzing the data, but I will get the report to you by tomorrow afternoon.”
Astra left his office, locked up her lab and then hurried to the RoboCar waiting patiently at the campus gate. Early that morning she had received a very strange call from Ruth Barlow, a friend from her undergrad days. The gist of the conversation was that one of Ruth’s paranormally gifted friends wanted very badly to meet Astra and that she had an important message for her from the spirit world–could she make it tonight? The sooner the better.
He held out his hand. "Oh, I almost forgot, please give me your write up–just in case I am missing something."
If the request had come from anyone else, Astra would have been suspicious and declined, but she had a great deal of respect and trust for Ruth who was finishing up her doctoral research in parapsychology.
So Astra found herself in the unusual and somewhat awkward position of being a hard-core research scientist en route to a meeting with a psychic. I have to make sure that Horowitz doesn’t find out about this.
Astra settled into the passenger side of the RoboCar and entered the destination address into the armrest. Then she asked the AI to play a Brazilian folk song while she leaned back and closed her eyes. What an incredible day. I can only wonder what’s going to come next.
-- CHAPTER 5 --
There is something magical about the air in San Francisco which holds an exhilarating, energetic freshness unlike that of any other city in the world. Astra wondered if it might be due to the negatively charged ions generated in the surf at Pacifica and blown inland by the sea breeze. Whatever the cause and in spite of the heat, the air in the ‘City', as it was called by the natives, never failed to excite her and she relished the times when she could escape the lab and the BGI carnival of geeks and money mongers.
The RoboCar's onboard AI expertly found the designated drop off point and accepted her payment chip and then headed for its next fare. The harbor side of Potrero Hill hadn't changed much since the 1980's. Monday through Friday, the yellow and black Santa Fe Railroad locomotives lugged tons of raw materials to the district’s garment and furniture factories and fuel from the oil refineries in Benicia just like at the turn of the century.
The industrial sector was routinely shut down by dinner time so it was unlikely that anyone from BGI would have reason to venture this far onto the back streets. Horowitz's Freudian slip about 'watching' her hadn't gone unnoticed and she was most definitely feeling paranoid.
Astra tucked her long brown hair up inside a Las Vegas Raiders ball cap and hid her striking brown eyes behind a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. She wore a baggy, gray sweat suit and running shoes in order to pass as a jogger. The sneakers were a good idea in any event because she was about to take on the steepest hill in the City. The sidewalk took a marked pitch upward as she climbed past the homes at the leading edge of the residential district. Pastel tinted, two-story cubical houses with adjoining walls were stacked along both sides of the street. It looked like an endless series of normal homes had been slowly compressed until the yards had evaporated. Many of the homes had been customized with artfully varnished doors and balcony flower gardens. But even the run of the mill, neglected homes were still in the million dollar plus price range. The breath taking view of the city below justified the stratospheric real estate prices. The farther up the hill, the higher the price. This close to the ocean in the late afternoon there was a slight coolness to the breeze, but the sun felt warm and inviting–a typical gorgeous summer late afternoon in the Bay Area. By the time she reached the historic Kline's Deli near the summit, she could feel the radiant heat from the exertion trapped within her sweatshirt and the muscles of her calves were burning fiercely.
When she reached Klines, she briefly took a table by the window that offered an unobstructed view of the vicinity below to make certain that she hadn't been followed. She surveyed the street one last time and found all directions to be in the clear. She turned left out of Klines onto a small side street and again headed upwards. Halfway up the block, a narrow path lined with a canopy of tree branches bearing yellow leaves led down a steep cascade of stone steps. A small sign warned, 'Private Residence–Keep Out'. A dense plume of fog sailed by overhead blocking the sun so Astra waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was noticeably cooler in the shade. She grasped the tarnished brass railing as she navigated down the walkway, which was bordered by what appeared to be miniature banzai oaks. A white picket fence glowed in the ethereal light. She reached over, unlatched the gate and followed a line of flagstones that snaked through a rose garden to the front of the property. Astra turned one last time to make sure that she was not being followed, and then sharply rapped the brass striker against its metal plate. Within seconds a vibrant woman in her early forty's wearing a colorful, flowered kimono cautiously opened the door. Her thick brown hair was done in braids which draped down each shoulder Indian style–an affect accentuated by the thin leather band tied tightly around her head.
She offered her hand. “Hi, I am Madeline Grant. Welcome to my humble abode." She shook Astra's hand and said, "I am glad that our friend Ruth was able to get a hold of you. She told me that you are a brilliant geneticist. I have an important message for you from the spirit world and before you ask, I conduct my sessions in the tradition of Adele Tinning–meaning that like her, I never demand a fee for my time. 'Donations accepted but not requested' was one of Adele's favorite mantras. Psychics that demand fees for services have most likely have either lost their connection or never had one. Come and join our group session and then afterwards we will get to your message.”
After Astra was introduced to the other guests, Madeline announced, "Since many of you here tonight are new visitors I think we will break the ice with what some would consider a magic trick." She laughed then dimmed the lights and relaxed into a comfortable chair in the middle of the living room. A small wooden stand faced the front of the chair; its top draped in a black cloth which Madeline snatched up and off with a flourish of showmanship revealing a shiny, silver sphere about the size of a baseball.
She picked up the sphere and passed it to Astra saying, "Please inspect this and tell me your impression."
Astra replied, "It feels like it is made of solid steel, heavy...about 10 pounds. She passed it to the man next to her whose name she had already forgotten and added, "It would definitely hurt if someone hit you with it."
After the sphere had made the rounds, it was returned to Madeline who placed it back on the table. She slowly lifted her arms and the shiny, steel sphere lifted smoothly suspended halfway between her sinewy brown hands.
The group of onlookers moved in until they were shoulder to shoulder, straining to see the law of gravity so nonchalantly violated. Madeline's eyelids were tightly pressed together and her hands were steady with no apparent exertion. As she raised and lowered her hands, the sphere levitated upwards and downwards in perfect unison with her movements.
Madeline said in a deep, resonate voice, "All right everyone. I have a strong connection going. Anyone that wishes may experiment with the object. Feel free to have fun...have a ball," she laughed.
Being closest, Astra slowly swiped her hand beneath the sphere, then across the top. There was nothing there! As she slid her hand beneath Madeline's, she felt an electrical tingle that surged to the middle of her shoulder blades and sent a thrill down her back. Her shoulders involuntarily jerked and she heard what sounded like a locomotive train whistle in the distance.
Astonished, she moved to the rear to allow a well-dressed businessman in a charcoal gray suit a chance to experiment. His approach was more direct. He grasped the table with one hand and then inserted the other with upturned palm beneath the sphere. He suddenly grabbed the sphere and tried to jerk it up and away pulling Madeline up out of her seat against the edge of the table. Slowly the sphere returned to its original position and Madeline sunk back into h
er chair.
"Woops," she said. "I wasn't expecting that. Go ahead and pull as hard as you like Dennis. You just threw me off balance for a moment; don't worry about it at all."
Dennis said, "Oh, I didn't realize that would happen. I didn't mean to surprise you. I can't believe that you're doing this. I thought it must be–you know–some sort of parlor trick."
"Test me all you want Dennis." The man leaned closer and put as much weight as he could on the ball. It moved downwards an inch or so and again returned to its original position. Obviously a strong-minded individual, this time he grasped the sphere with both hands and lifted. The effort drew him downwards until his elbows banged against the table. He continued to apply force but the sphere barely moved. "Okay, Madeline. I'm convinced. Who's next?"
Astra drifted away to the divan and absentmindedly picked up a throw pillow and clutched it to her stomach. She looked around; the living room was filled with wall-to-wall shelves packed with hundreds of books and dozens of burning candles. A rare Michael H.D. Dormer original painting depicting an alternate dimension hung above the mantle of the rock fireplace where a cheery fire snapped and popped. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the candles.
Madeline excused herself from the group and escorted Astra to the privacy of the kitchen. She motioned for Astra to sit in a chair next to the old wooden, white-painted kitchen table. Madeline then sat down across from her and put her palms down on the tabletop. She motioned to Astra to do the same. To Astra's surprise the table jerked closer to her then tilted up on its side barely nudging Astra's stomach region. It was like a pet saying hello.
Madeline said, "As I explained to our friend Ruth Barlow, I have been getting a very strong message especially for you. Sorry, we're going to have to use the old-style table tapping way to connect, so please help me count the number of taps and then translate them into letters."
Madeline rubbed her hands together then said, "As a professional research scientist, you will probably think this is a crazy form of communication, but believe me it works more times than not and it is a lot more accurate than automatic writing where our consciousness sometimes interferes with our connection. Just, think of the table as one of those WiFi network antennas and right now it is receiving a special message to you from the spirit net.”
Astra fished out her notepad and stylus from her pack and surreptitiously looked under the table for gimmicks. She found nothing unusual.
She put her hands back on the table and asked, "Who is sending the message?"
Madeline said, "The source is probably your mentor. Some call them 'Master Teachers'. Ask it to spell out its name."
As soon as Astra spoke the question, the table began slowly tapping with Astra recording and translating until they had received the following,
T...H...A...D...D...E...U...S
"Good, now ask Thaddeus for the message that I mentioned earlier. You can do it out loud or silently."
The table began tapping and once more Astra did the counting and text conversion. After twenty minutes, the table that once seemed so alive abruptly ceased motion and now seemed just like an ordinary table that could be found in any kitchen. Astra handed Madeline her notepad with the following transcribed message:
danger
do not trust boss
HE IS evil
Madeline looked concerned. "This sounds serious. I'm not sure exactly what kind of research you are doing, but it seems like you may be mixed up with the wrong crowd.”
Suddenly, the table came back to life and after another twenty minutes it had spelled out:
WORLD TOO HOT
CRISIS COMING SOON
you have new calling
build sanctuary to PRESERVE life
vidas will ASSIST
Astra took Madeline’s hand and laughed, “This is like a dream I had a long time ago after a bible school lesson on Noah’s Ark–except the Ark in my dream was an encyclopedia about endangered species. Now that I think about it, that dream was what led me to become a biologist.”
Madeline told Astra, “That’s all for today, the connection has closed.” She looked at the message on Astra’s notepad and asked, "What are ‘VIDAS’?"
Astra thought for a moment. ”Vida means ‘life’. I think it may be a name for those that help me build a sanctuary–an Ark of genetic information for the future.”
"Oh, then I will pass the word. Sounds like you need all the help you can get. Keep me informed. You are welcome here anytime." Madeline reached behind her neck and removed a heart-shaped golden locket that reflected sparks of light as she handed it to Astra. “Here, take this for luck. It has a long history that I will tell you about some day. But, I have to get back to my group. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope Ruth can join us next time.”
"This is all so new to me. May I ask you a personal question?"
"Let me guess. Since you are a geneticist, you probably want to know if my psychic abilities were inherited."
"That is exactly what I was about to ask."
"The answer is 'very much so'." In fact you may have heard about Dr. Sandra Grant–the scientist that has been doing pioneering research on mental telepathy in dolphins since the 1990's. Sandra is my mother–that's a picture of her in the locket. She has told me many stories about of my grandmother, Erma Grant, who had such strong connection with animal spirits that she owned a pet shop. However, for some reason my twin brother has no connection. Maybe he is a late bloomer."
Astra hugged her goodbye. "Thank you so much. The message that we received confirms suspicions that I have been having about my boss. Don't worry; I am going to ask my brother Sabien for his help. Thanks again for the beautiful locket," She placed a $100 USACO token on the kitchen counter and headed out the door.
The walk downhill to rendezvous with the RoboCar that she requested to meet her outside of Klines was a lot easier than the climb up. As the RoboCar pulled onto the top level of the Embarcadero Freeway and headed for her apartment, Astra fondled the locket that Madeline had given her and wondered if any of this psychic connection business was really true.
But the levitating sphere seemed real enough. I wonder if that was Madeline's way of demonstrating her credibility. And as to the 'Ark', a computer program encyclopedia like the one in my dream would serve as a database, but I would need to collect and store living samples from around the world–fertilized embryos would be best but any tissue containing DNA would suffice. It will take a lot of help and cryogenic equipment to pull this off. Plus...I have an 'evil boss' to deal with.
Astra phoned her brother Sabien and briefed him about her work situation and her new 'calling'. He sounded very supportive and promised to join her as soon as he could clear some time from his project in Alaska. And yes, he knew where he could score a CryoVat and a liquid nitrogen cylinder and would ship them to her via overnight courier so she could get started right away on her new project.
She didn't tell him that she had received a warning message delivered by a psychic through a kitchen table. He probably would think that I have completely flipped out. But...on the other hand, he might want to conduct his own investigations. Someday I hope to introduce him to Madeline and see what he makes of it all.
Next Astra called her friend Ruth and thanked her for setting up the meeting with Madeline. Since Ruth just happened to be a part-time property manager to help pay for her fees at UC Berkeley, Astra decided to seize the initiative and asked her to be on the lookout for a place that she could set up a small research lab.
Ruth promptly shifted gears and donned her realtor persona. She asked, "How much space? What kind of research?"
Astra replied, "Only about five or six hundred square feet is all. I am going to build an Ark to serve as a sanctuary to restore biodiversity until my brother Sabien finally puts an end to global warming–also a garage would be great. There will likely be a lot of equipment loading and unloading.
All Ruth could manage was an "Oh...okay." She thought for a
minute, and then added, “Actually, I do know this industrialist dude who owns a bunch of commercial property in the Bay Area that might just let you have some space for free. He's turning into a born-again environmentalist–trying to atone for all the nature-devastating development projects that he has been responsible for is my guess. I will contact him tomorrow and run your project by him, then get back to you. Say what did you think about Madeline and her connection to the spirit world? I think it's for real. How about you?"
"I'll give you this. If it any of this turns out to be real, then I will have to change the way that I think about almost everything."
"Sounds good to me–and I bet you will!"
"Good night Ruth and I thank you for your help."
-- CHAPTER 6 --
Early the next morning Astra phoned Benjamin McIntyre, another friend from her college days that now worked as a patent attorney at a local law firm. He immediately understood her concern about talking over an unsecured line and agreed to meet her for lunch in a local restaurant where she briefed him on her flatworm project and her promising results,
Benjamin told her, "My firm has been involved in several patent battles with BGI and I warn you, they are ruthless back stabbers; you can't trust anything they tell you. I urge you to find every way you can think of to protect yourself and your research results.”
Astra said, “Since my funding was from the World Science Foundation, I think that my research should be in the public domain. I would much rather see humankind benefit from my work than help BGI shareholders get fabulously rich–or have it fall into the hands of tyrants. These files contain my grant award and BGI contract.” She tapped her notepad to his.
Benjamin quickly flipped through pages on his notepad and then told her. “’I'll study these and get back to you once I have had time to digest all the legal mumbo jumbo. Astra, you mentioned that Director Horowitz doesn’t think much of your project because it only involves worms–in other words it’s not immediately profitable. For the time being, I recommend that you maintain a low profile. Let your contract term expire and then just gradually fade beyond their radar–assuming you can find other means of support, which I think you should be able to do. I would be happy to make some contacts for you. Longevity research seems to be a hot topic for patent firms these days."