High Desert High

by Steven Schindler

  Ranger wasn’t a bad tour guide at all. He explained the history of the Integratron. How the builder received the plans from a Venusian – yes, the kind that come from Venus – and was built on the convergence of energy forces that emanate across the universe and go through the earth like lasers of WiFi, and that all of this energy would be magnified through this structure to extend the human life form indefinitely and also attract visitors from other planets in their flying saucers. He also mentioned the nearby Giant Rock, and a brief explanation of the relationship between the Integratron and the people who holed up inside a cave at the Giant Rock and were thought to be Nazis during World War II, and how it somehow got blown up … but that was all lost in a marijuana coughing fit.

  They were told how the upstairs of the Integratron was an acoustically perfect space so unique that no less than Moby himself recorded there. Whoever the hell that is, Paul thought to himself as he took up the rear position on the way up the rickety ladder right behind Ash’s leather-clad rumpled ass.

  Upstairs was impressive. It did have a feeling of being churchlike even though it was essentially devoid of any furniture or décor. At one end of the round room was a pile of yoga mats. At the other were six large clear glass bowls with varying amounts of liquid in them. Behind the bowls were large pillows. They were instructed to take a yoga mat and choose a spot where each of them would lie down on their backs and get “as comfortable as possible,” as Ranger put it. Paul wondered if that meant to get naked. After going up the ladder behind Ash he hoped that wasn’t the case. Apparently it wasn’t. Kate put two yoga mats next to each other, as Jasmine and Ash put two together on the other side of the space. Ranger instructed them to be still and try not to make any sounds, or have sexual fantasies about anyone in the room. Which of course caused Paul to immediately think of what it would be like if they were naked in this spaced-out space as they lay on their backs on the yoga mats with their eyes closed.

  Ranger took a seat on the pillow behind the six large bowls, and picked up two large mallets that were covered with thick cotton-like fabric at the top. He then began circling the top edges of the bowls, two at a time, and the bowls began to ring and vibrate at different frequencies. At first it seemed silly to Paul. He even secretly opened an eye to peek at Kate who kept her eyes shut tight and had a look of total peacefulness across her face. As the bowls rang, the vibrations seemed to be bouncing off the rounded walls and ceilings and continuing to reverberate around and up and down as if they were gaining strength as the seconds and minutes passed. Five minutes must have gone by, and the different frequencies seemed to be gaining strength as if they were joining together into one great vibration instead of hundreds of little ones.

  With eyes closed, breathing slowed, and total relaxation taking him over, Paul could feel a tingling going through his body. He felt a lightness. Almost as if he was floating. He was imagining the frequencies entering through the top of his head, and creating swirls of colors as they traveled through his skin, muscles, bones, and organs, down to his legs, and exiting through the tips of his toes. He also began to see something behind his eyelids. It made him think of those times when he was clocked in the head, with a baseball or a low doorway or a fist – those things depicted as stars in cartoons – that you see just before you black out. But he wasn’t blacking out, and those tingly things he was seeing with his eyes closed were swirling around his head as if it was hollow and were reverberating back and forth just like the sounds ricocheting around the space they were all laying down in. He discovered that he could send those sounds and images down out of his head and into other parts of his body, and that those parts became more alive, or at least he felt he was aware of every tiny little part of his body that the sounds and images were willed to travel to.

  Paul did something he hadn’t done in a long time. With all the times he had been high or buzzed or drunk on booze, or having sex, or running up a darkened stairway chasing somebody with his gun out, with adrenaline surging, it was always an exhilarating rush. But this was different. He was having some kind of a high, but he didn’t understand where it was coming from. Was it coming from this place – the convergence of energy life forces shooting through the universe, the planet, the desert, this crazy UFO-attracting building, the good vibrations from the mysterious bowls – or from the inside of his head? So he just let himself go, to see where all this would take him. His mind was drifting, lost in the waves of sound energy going into, around, under, over, through his blood, bodily fluids, eyeballs, intestines, hair … then out of nowhere:

  ZZZKKKRRROOOPPPPPPKKKKKKZZZZZZKAAAA GH!

  Someone snored loud enough to rattle the tie-dye off a Grateful Dead t-shirt. Paul looked over and there was Ash snoring like an English bulldog with asthma. Ranger was so startled he stopped ringing the bowls with his mallet. But the snoring continued. Paul, Kate, and Jasmine looked at each other and just rolled their eyes. Ranger started it up again, but the moment was gone. After all that, Paul began worrying about Tracy, whether he needed to go to Walmart for anything, and what he might want for dinner; monkey mind was back, eyes closed or not.

  Five minutes later, the sound-bath session was officially over as Ranger’s vibrations ceased and he asked for the yoga mats to be placed neatly away. But Ash continued to snore away until Jasmine gave him several hard finger pokes in his chest.

  “Wow that was great!” Ash said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t wake yourself up. You couldn’t hear a bunker-buster explode if you were napping nearby,” Paul said.

  “Do I snore?”

  All laughed and began to put their yoga mats away. Jasmine approached Kate and asked if she and Paul would like to join them for dinner at her place, only a few miles from there. Kate discreetly pulled Paul aside and asked him.

  “Is Ash going?” Paul whispered. Paul looked over and saw that Ash had heard his whisper, which had bounced off the perfectly acoustic dome and into his ear. He didn’t want to seem like a dick so he agreed with a big smile and a nod on his face. “Sure. I’ll leave my car here in the lot.”

  “If everybody drove on the left side of these washboard roads, it would help smooth them out,” Kate said, driving down the bumpy dirt road in the dark.

  “Even at night? In the dark? Seems dangerous to me,” Paul said with his right hand holding the handle above the passenger-side door as he bounced in his seat. “Watch it!” Paul yelled, grabbing the wheel and pulling it to the right as Kate slammed on the brakes, barely missing a huge jackrabbit that darted across the road and into the darkness.

  “Oh my. That happens a lot. I forget sometimes about the things that come out of nowhere. Especially at night,” Kate said, rattled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No. I’m fine. We’re almost there,” Kate said, concentrating on the road ahead.

  Paul wondered how anybody could find their way around these pitch-black dirt roads at night. Even the darkest corners of New York are illuminated by the glow effect from billions of light bulbs across the city, bouncing off buildings, bridges, and the atmosphere itself.

  Kate drove off the road and into what appeared to be merely another empty lot. The ride got bumpier, and after going over a berm or two, there was a small house that looked like one of the many abandoned sheds in various stages of decomposition throughout the desert. But this one was a survivor. A square building of concrete blocks and a flat roof, lit up by Kate’s high beams.

  “Here we are,” Kate said, turning off the car and the headlamps.

  Paul exited, closed his door, and looked up. Paul had never seen a sky so bright with stars, particularly the mushy mix of stars and lights across the moonless sky. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Milky Way so clearly. It’s amazing! In New York you’re lucky if you can see the moon on a clear night.”

  Kate walked across the front of the car to stand next to h
im. “There are so many kinds of pollution. Even light pollution. That’s why it’s so important to get away from it. Even just temporarily. Just listen.”

  They stood next to each other, the house still a hundred or so feet away, in total silence and darkness. Much like the sound bath, Paul could feel his breath traveling into his nose and through to his lungs. He could also hear Kate’s breathing and as he inched towards her. He was almost certain he could hear her heartbeat as well as his own.

  Was this something new? Was he always able to hear his own heartbeat and breathing, and that of someone standing next to him, but didn’t because there was too much noise, light, tension, and bullshit bombarding him constantly that made it impossible to see and hear those sensations?

  From the outside, Jasmine’s home looked like a bunker: concrete blocks, a plain steel door, small windows, a flat roof. But upon entering, it became an enchanting abode of silken fabrics streaming across walls, large unframed landscape watercolors, and funky thrift-store furniture. It was a single room: a kitchenette off to the right, complete with an antique stove, looking like something from a Laurel and Hardy movie; upholstered chairs constructed for small frames a hundred years ago placed to enable conversation, not television viewing; faded Oriental rugs strewn throughout the room over a simple concrete-slab floor.

  “Come in! Have a seat! Would you like some tea?” Jasmine said as she welcomed Paul and Kate into her home.

  Paul immediately noticed what wasn’t in the room: Ash. “Yes, I’d like some tea. But not that funny kind.”

  “I’ll have some!” Kate replied, hoping Paul wouldn’t immediately go into an anti-weed routine.

  “No, just plain old Earl Grey or herbal,” Jasmine said, as the red teakettle sputtered. “Has Kate been giving you the funny stuff?”

  “Funny sounding,” Paul said, “St. John’s warts!”

  “Wort not wart,” Kate said laughing.

  Dainty cups of tea on saucers were served. Paul felt odd in the overstuffed chair, balancing a saucer and teacup on his lap. The conversation wound around the décor, the night sky, the washboard road, the sound bath, but no mention of Ash.

  “By the way, where’s Ash? I thought he was coming,” Kate asked.

  “I thought so, too,” Jasmine said, surprised but not disappointed. “He mentioned he had a few deliveries to make and would try to come by later.”

  Kate studied Paul. She knew the deliveries mention would get his narc radar going and hoped it wouldn’t surface in an uncomfortable way. Paul just nodded, took a sip of tea, and smiled.

  “That guy’s quite the window rattler,” Paul said.

  Kate and Jasmine looked quizzically at each other.

  “His snoring. It rattles the windows.”

  In the distance the sound of loud motorcycle pipes could be heard approaching. The noise increased until it was parked next to the house, and in fact did rattle the open windows until the engine stopped. Jasmine looked outside. “It’s Ash.”

  Paul looked at Kate as they were both trying to gauge each other’s reaction to the arrival of Ash. He entered the house and stomped his feet on the concrete floor, knocking sand off his boots. Reaching inside his leather jacket he pulled out a bulky envelope and handed it to Jasmine.

  “Here ya go,” Ash said, handing her the envelope and taking off his jacket. “Do you have any beer?”

  “Anyone else want one?” Jasmine asked.

  Paul though for a moment, but decided against it. He didn’t know why. He actually really wanted one at this moment, on this warm, cozy evening, but something told him to stay clear-headed. “Not me, thanks.”

  Ash drank the can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in about three gulps and headed for the bathroom, which was just out of view in the next room. He apparently left the door open, because the sound of his pee hitting the water was quite loud.

  “I really got to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jasmine,” Ash said, putting his jacket on and leaving.

  The motorcycle roared to life, then faded in the distance. As soon as there was silence Jasmine said, “Let’s sit in the yard. It’s gorgeous outside.”

  Jasmine turned off all the house lights except for one dim nightlight, grabbed a small flashlight, and led them outside to the backyard. There were four chaise lounge-style chairs all pointing in the same direction, away from the rear of the house. In the distance was nothing. Just darkness.

  “It’ll take a few minutes for your eyes to adjust,” Jasmine said, adjusting the chair backs to the lowest positions and leading Paul and Kate to them. “Just relax here. While we’re waiting, I’m going to cause a slight amount of light pollution while I light up a bowl.”

  Paul watched as a red glow illuminated Jasmine’s face as she lit the bowl and inhaled. Without asking, she passed the pipe to Kate, who also took long deep breaths from it. Kate held it out for Paul.

  “No thanks.”

  After a couple of exchanges between Kate and Jasmine the pipe went out and was placed on the table next to Jasmine’s chair.

  Nothing was said. For a while. And as the seconds and minutes passed, Paul, flat on his back, as were the others, noticed the stars becoming brighter. The sounds of bugs buzzing nearby become noticeable. And he began to become aware of the breathing and swallowing patters of his chair mates.

  “There’s one,” Jasmine said, pointing east to west across the sky.

  “I saw it,” Kate added.

  “What?”

  Kate held up her hand, which was now visible to Paul because his eyes were used to the darkness. “A shooting star.”

  “It’s a sign.” Jasmine added.

  Paul waited about a minute, then asked, “A sign of what?”

  “I was asking for a sign. And then it appeared,” Jasmine said softly. After another minute or so she added, “It’s a sign from 67 P.”

  “What’s 67 P?” Paul asked.

  “Scientists are telling us that a comet called 67 P is approaching earth. But some say it’s not a comet at all. It’s an alien ship,” Jasmine stated matter-of-factly. “It has been communicating, or should I say, attempting to communicate with earth. The European Space Agency landed on it a couple years ago and they’re keeping their findings secret. Why would they pick that so-called comet to land on? One they already admitted was emitting strange signals that were like singing? Right where we are, right now, we sit on over 90 percent of the exact convergence of the earth energy force vortex that the Integratron sits on. Do you remember Heaven’s Gate?”

  “That big flop that ruined Michael Cimino’s career?” Paul asked. He could hear Jasmine sigh deeply.

  “No. Heaven’s Gate, the commune that transitioned in San Diego to an extraterrestrial star ship that was using the comet Hale-Bopp as cover as it approached the earth. They were the first to understand the ancient astronaut hypothesis in terms of modern applications.”

  Paul waited about a half minute, wondering if Kate might jump in, or start laughing, but nothing but silence hung in the air. “Didn’t they commit mass suicide?”

  “That’s what it appeared to outsiders. Hale-Bopp was close enough to earth that they could accept the human spirit forms. There goes another!”

  “That one I think I saw!” Paul said excitedly. “Is that another sign?”

  “Yes, signs of what is to come.”

  “Will 67 P be accepting passengers?” Paul asked and immediately got a poke in the arm from Kate.

  “Absolutely,” Jasmine said slowly.

  “What’s that?” Paul asked. “Over on the left. All the way. Brighter than everything else? It looks like it’s … moving!”

  All three rose from their reclining positions and sat up. It was clear as day; a bright round object, brighter than anything in the moonless night was traveling high across the sky.

  “It could be a scout. Alien visitors send out scout craft from their motherships to survey earth. Those are the craft that….” Jasmines voice trailed off and there was silence for a minute
or so. “Those are the craft that abduct specimens.”

  “Specimens?”

  “Animal. And human,” Jasmine said, noticeably upset. “I have to go in for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  Paul watched the flashlight lead her way, back to the kitchen door.

  “What was that all about?” Paul whispered into Kate’s ear.

  “She gets that way when she’s high.”

  “You mean psychotic?”

  “She’s not psychotic. She just … she believes she was abducted.”

  “You mean, like held for ransom by tweakers, right?” Paul said, referring to a slang term for a meth addict.

  “No. You know what I mean. A victim of an alien abduction. It’s not that unusual.”

  “Maybe here it’s not unusual. Can we go inside? I need a drink.”

  Jasmine was in the darkened kitchen, and as soon as Paul and Kate entered she turned on the light. She had a pitcher on the counter with some reddish drink in it. She reached under the counter, retrieving a bottle of vodka, and began pouring it into the pitcher.

  “Paul was wondering if he could have a drink,” Kate asked.

  “Oh, I’m making vodka Red Bulls.”

  Paul looked at the concoction and thought it looked too much like Kool Aid for him, in light of Jasmine’s fascination with mass-suicide-committing alien-worshipping cult members.

  “Actually, I drink my vodka straight up,” Paul said, reaching for the bottle, removing the top, and taking a deep whiff. “I love the smell of vodka,” he added, hoping he didn’t arouse any embarrassing suspicions, with his checking out the purity of the spirits.

  “Want some ice?” Asked Jasmine, as she got a tray of ice from the freezer and began dropping ice cubes in the pitcher.

  “No, I’m good.”

  Jasmine and Kate sat on the sofa, and Paul sat across from them in the upholstered chair. The pipe was on the coffee table and Jasmine began preparing for another bowl. “You don’t mind, do you? I usually don’t smoke in the house, but….”