by John Nelson
A junior field agent named Rob Sanchez took us back to a small conference room where Musgrave was waiting for us. There were two more experts, or so I assumed, flanking him on either side.
“Ah, the prodigal pair returns,” Musgrave said with a smirk.
Brenda immediately switched back to her “Jean” persona and tensed up, as if we had done something wrong. “Which means what, sir?”
“Calm down, Whatley. It’s just a figure of speech, since this is the Wild West and your assignment isn’t exactly pedestrian.” Jean forced a smile and took a deep breath. Musgrave turned to me. “So, Alan. You stepped forward and had a ‘healing,’ I understand.”
“Yes. We had planned for Jean to test it first, but … seemed like a waste of time, since I was planted there to gauge Fria’s effects on me, or I should say, my neural processor.”
“Well, you have operational latitude. So, tell about your reception in town.”
I proceeded to fill in Musgrave on our hotel, the restaurant where we made first contact, and the library where I was first approached. This ruffled Jean a bit since I hadn’t shared this flirtation with her, and she tried to make it an issue. Musgrave waved her off, wanting me to continue with my assessment. I moved on to the healing ceremony—that grabbed everybody’s attention. I gave a detailed report of what happened there and my own personal experience.
“Excellent. Of course, we’ll download the recording from both of your neural processors, but this incursion is as much about your personal reaction as it is the nuts and bolts of what occurred.” I nodded my head. “Don’t worry, Alan. Besides the testing, we’ll conduct a more thorough debriefing, including a psyche evaluation with Klaus.”
“But he’s not here, I take it.”
Musgrave looked curiously at me. “No, Alan. It’ll be a remote session.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Jean asked.
Musgrave smiled. “Tell her, Alan.”
“Well, they’ve certainly checked out the effects of Fria’s spiritual healings, via her students, on other subjects or plants, but probably never one with a high degree of … integration, if I may say so.”
“Exactly,” he said.
“Which will tell us what?” Jean asked. She was definitely out of the loop on the science end of this operation but didn’t like being left in the dark.
I looked over at Musgrave, who nodded his head. I turned to Jean. “Harkum, the accountant who went berserk and killed three people, had a great deal of anxiety and it appears that his state of mind short-circuited his neural processor and opened a floodgate that led to his rage.”
“And you’re quite the opposite, I take it, and they want to gauge how it affects or expands you?” she asked.
I nodded my head.
Jean turned to Musgrave, “Then why don’t you just test a Buddhist monk or something?”
“Haven’t found one with a neural processor, and the idea is exposure to this particular healer’s energy since it is so pervasive, and with someone who can better gauge its effects,” Musgrave said.
“Which may give them an idea of how it would affect larger groups of people, if this healing modality is generally applied by individuals,” I added.
Musgrave’s eyes narrowed at this description. He turned to the mirror on the wall across from us. “Delete that statement from the record.” He turned to me. “We need to keep focused on the task at hand, Alan, and rein in your personal speculation.”
I nodded my head; Jean shook hers in consternation. What was that about? She must’ve asked herself.
Musgrave opened a folder. “Okay, before your testing, let’s run through some operational directives.”
“Okay.” I assumed they figured that the testing might further space me out and they wanted to go over details now, so Jean could drive us back tomorrow. It was hard to keep my focus; I kept thinking about my interview with Klaus.
21.
The first test in their makeshift clinic was a remote examination of my neural processor, which they could test separately from my normal neo-cortex reactions. However, they had to redo the test several times; I assumed there was more integration of my processor with the neocortex than they had expected and separating the two feedback loops was difficult. I was then given a battery of IQ tests, emotional response tests, and finally an intuitive or psychic test. No doubt its inclusion was Dr. Klaus’ brainchild, if I can use that term, which seemed counterintuitive here. The testing took some three hours; at which point I was given a half-hour of sleep time to clear my mind for the next round. I had no trouble falling off to sleep.
Afterward I ate lunch alone; apparently they didn’t want any contact between me and the others, including Jean, until after my interview with Klaus. I was now ushered into a living room setting in which one wall was a huge screen; after I got settled on the sofa and someone brought me some water, the screen blipped on and there was Dr. Klaus in his New York office.
“Alan, hear you’ve had an interesting start to our little adventure.”
“Well, I’ve made an intensive first contact, if that’s what you mean.”
Klaus gave me one of his Cheshire cat smiles; this was appropriate since in this case he had my test results and did know more than me. “Okay, Alan, run me through the actual healing experience. Close your eyes and relive it, if you will.”
I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes. “She put her hands on the top of my head, or just above it, and after a while I felt this warm current of energy spread across the top of my head, and then seep down into the cranial cavity. At first it seemed to collect around my neural processor, or that’s what it felt like. I do know its location, unlike others you’ve tested, and so I think I can make that statement. I didn’t feel affected in any way, and then it moved on to other areas of the brain but seemed to affect them. This I felt. Then, it leaped from one chakra center to the next, or that’s what I assumed they were, radiating out from each one, until it left my body through the bottom of my feet.”
I opened my eyes and Klaus was staring at me, his right hand stroking his chin, thinking intently, or so it seemed. “Excellent description, Alan. Almost worth all the effort put into this op on its own.”
I didn’t know how to respond to this praise, so I just nodded my head.
Klaus looked down at his glass table computer screen, no doubt reviewing the test results. “Normally, I wouldn’t share test results with a subject, but in this case you’re an active collaborator in this venture, and frankly we need you to monitor your own reactions in the field, since it’s not something we can safely do without detection in this case.”
This sounded promising; I did want to know how this energy would affect me but needed feedback to get an overview. “Okay, I understand, and I assume this would be on a ‘need to know’ basis.”
“Yes, Alan. Your new security agreement would cover it, but you’re not to share this aspect of your assignment with Whatley or even Musgrave. I’ll keep him informed.” Keeping Musgrave out of the loop was unusual and made me wonder who was running this operation, since Klaus was from the private sector, or so I had always assumed.
I instinctively looked at the mirror on the side wall, which was no doubt one-way and wondered if we were being monitored. I turned back to Klaus. He shook his head to indicate I wasn’t.
“Your intuitive test scores are quite high, much more than your entry test score of several years ago. Whether this has been accumulative, or a spike due to this contact, we don’t know. It’s not a test we administer on a yearly basis like some. I assume the latter.”
“I think that’s safe to say.”
“So, you’ve noticed a difference, or heightened awareness, I should say.”
“Yes. Nothing too dramatic, but you could say that.”
“So, Alan, this is the question. Does this energy integrate cognitive-intuitive functionality across the board, especially in regard to neural processors, or just in isolated advanced cases
like yours?”
“You mean …”
“Alan, I think it best that you keep your speculation to yourself, as Musgrave said earlier.”
“So I assume you’ll want to expose Jean as well, to gauge her reaction as a comparison.”
Klaus nodded his head. “One reason she was chosen. Although we have readings from others at her level; she’s been ‘conditioned’ and we want to gauge the reaction.”
That was interesting and made me wonder just how that was done or to what extent.
“Well, I hope you’re telling her, not me.”
“She’s being informed as we speak.”
I shook my head, as if trying to shake off her coming reaction to this twist in the assignment.
“Don’t worry, Alan. She’s a trouper.” Klaus glanced down at his computer screen for a moment, then back to me. “We’ll want you to monitor your intuitive reactions or progress. I mean, reports on dreams, intuitive flashes, heightened sensitivity and also cognitive functionality or its lack.” I nodded my head. “Normally we’d have you make notes in your neural processor and download them, but given the heightened psychic reach of our subject, we’ll provide you with a secure recorder for your notes.”
“Okay. I can do that, and I assume I’m to keep this operational detail from Whatley, so as not to contaminate her own log.”
“Yes, Alan. Perceptive as always.” He smiled, as if making a mental note to himself. “I look forward to your progress reports, and if I may say, be careful Alan. This is a hazardous mission, more so than you can ever imagine.”
He let this last statement hang in the air for a moment, and then the screen went blank. Talk about a counterintuitive break in the flow of our conversation. Maybe Klaus found himself stepping over some operational line with this last warning, and this was the only way he could reestablish his detachment, for himself and others.
When I left the interrogation room, Jean was waiting for me. She was definitely tense and preoccupied, but soon her lead role took over and we quickly left the clinic as previously instructed. We took the elevator up to the electronics store, picked up our packages, including I assumed, my recorder, and headed out into the mall. We had reservations at a hotel/spa northeast of Scottsdale in the desert and so we didn’t linger here. As we drove east from Phoenix, Jean’s “Brenda” persona took over again, maybe a self-preservation mechanism.
“Well, Lewis, I certainly hope this spa has private hot tubs and some good tequila. I definitely need to get drunk and fucked good.” She looked over at me and blinked her eyes. “But in no particular order, dear.”
“Sounds like what the doctor ordered,” I said in a rather off-the-cuff tone. Brenda, however, gave me a penetrating look, as if I had been given separate instructions from hers. I reached over and took her hand. “Why don’t you call ahead and reserve that private hot tub.”
She put her other hand over ours. “Lewis, you can be so thoughtful,” she snickered. She pulled her hands away, picked up her portable, and made the reservation.
The hotel/spa was located in the desert and our room with its balcony had a spectacular view of the chaparral and the McDowell Mountain range to the east. It was after 7:00 when we pulled in, and already the daytime temperature had cooled off and would become cooler still in the desert at night. We had a fast meal in the hotel dining room, since our hot tub reservation was for 8:30. What was really great was that the private hot tub rooms all had views of the desert and its night sky with its starry Milky Way band. As soon as we got settled in the tub, Brenda caught me staring at the sky.
“So, Lewis, is this what it’s going to be—stargazing and not body gazing?”
I looked down at Brenda, her lovely breasts floating on the bubbling water, which immediately grabbed my attention. We made out in the tub, and then I sat on one of the steps in shallow water, while Brenda sat on me and we made slow passionate love, her getting all my attention. Afterward she sat across from me in the tub, so she could see my facial expression.
“So, I take it that Klaus told you about me having to get a healing from Fria.”
“Yes. They want comparative test results to check.”
“My low readings with your high ones,” she said with a bite to her words.
“Why assume the worst? It’s your own individual reaction, whatever it may be.”
Brenda stared at me, and I met her gaze. “Well, you’re more comfortable with your feelings and I’ve expended a lot of effort to ‘manage’ mine for career and operational purposes.”
“Trust me. Integrating them will work out better for you than repressing them, and make you more competent.”
“Unless, like Harkum, I go on a rampage.”
I shook my head. “Won’t happen. Two different cases. You’re fairly well adjusted; he wasn’t; it should only work better for you.”
Brenda reached over and kissed me. “That’s what I like about you, Lewis. Always the optimist.” She rolled over and started kissing my chest, moving downward. “Or one of the things I like about you.”
Chapter Eight
22.
We drove back to Jerome the next morning. Brenda was unusually quiet and played her game console most of the way. We had eaten a large breakfast before heading out, so this was going to be a port-to-port trip. As we approached Jerome, her level of anxiety seemed to increase and she started up a conversation.
“So what do you think our next move is?” she asked, probably hoping it wasn’t us going to their next service and her getting a “healing.”
I felt my way through a response. “Seems like they’ll contact us under some pretext. They’re going to want a one-on-one with me and Fria so she can work her ‘magic’ on me, if Musgrave’s scenario is correct.”
“Which you doubt?” she asked.
“Let’s just say there could be another explanation and she’s not what we think, or at least her motivations aren’t.”
Brenda paused. I could tell she was making a mental note in her processor log, and this reminded me to be less open with her about “my speculation,” as Musgrave termed it.
“So you don’t have the same trepidations now?” she asked.
“I don’t believe in mind-control, or I should say, the garden variety. And, during the healing, it seems like I got as much of a handle on her as she on me.”
“Did they give you any drugs to close down invasive avenues?”
I smiled; she really was spooked. “The whole idea is borny on borny, or my borny side at least.” She nodded her head, but her body was as tense as a board. I reached over and grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry, Brenda. I’ll just quote some passages from Hargrove’s books and bore her shitless.”
This did seem to mollify her somewhat, or it at least allowed her to more easily slip into her Brenda persona. “Your readings always turn me on, dear.” Then she caught herself. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t have the same effect on her.”
“‘The sun slipping behind the ancient volcanic rock affected those in its shadow, drawing out their own shadow selves, releasing them to the coming night and the havoc it would hasten.’”
Brenda started to laugh. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” She leaned over and grabbed my arm, snuggling up against me. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, Lewis, and I’d hate to lose you.”
I didn’t know how to respond to this expression, and so I just smiled—given that my own feelings toward her were more ambivalent.
When we got to our room at The Sliding Sands, there was a message left on our room phone recorder from the Center for Planetary Healing—Fria’s umbrella organization. A Ms. June Caldwell asked that I call the Center in the morning, to schedule a follow-up for my healing. Brenda was going to say something, but I took out my bug-detector and swept the room first, then shook my head.
She now told me, “That was pretty intuitive of you.”
“Not really. What else were they going to do? Wait until we came to one of their weekly services, or i
nvite us to tea.”
That night, since the quick two-day trip had worn us both out, we just went to sleep without any sexual conjoining. I did have a dream of Maria Fria wearing a business suit and conducting a job interview with me. When I woke in the middle of the night and went out to the balcony, I realized that this wasn’t an intrusive dream but one summoned up from my subconscious, which again made me wonder about the other dreams of her. I remember reading somewhere about compensatory dreams: you have a conscious attitude and call up a dream about a situation that is quite the opposite to give you a more balanced perspective, not that either one is literally true. As I looked out over the plateau at the surrounding desert revealed in the moonlight, I realized that I had figured this next encounter would be more insidious or undermining, when it could be just a friendly inquiry from a naïve spiritual woman, just interested in the welfare of others.
In the morning I called the center and asked for June. The woman from the library picked up the call. “Oh yes, Lewis Hargrove. You’re not the novelist, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How interesting. Maria loves your work.” I didn’t respond. “Well, we’d like to do a follow-up to your healing. Just pretty standard stuff: how you felt afterward and any changes you experienced.”
“We can’t do that over the phone?”
“We prefer to do it in person. One of our healers will conduct the interview and be able to scan your energy body which can be just as productive.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“Would eleven o’clock this morning be all right for you?” she asked.
“That’s fine. I take it that the Center is in the brick building behind the church?”
“Yes. See you then.” She paused, then added, “Oh, and we prefer that you don’t eat ahead of time.”
“Okay.”