by Gary Starta
Seated at the kitchen table, Iris battled the nagging pinpricks of déjà vu. The room in the video induced a feeling of vague familiarity, even though Iris knew she’d never been there. Kassidy continued pacing back and forth behind her. In minutes, Iris’s ghost hunters would meet with Mitchell’s UFO investigators. How could she seriously represent the findings of the team and provide helpful analysis? Bewildered by her latest revelation, that the unidentified structure on video bore some connection to a past experience, she feared what she might sound like if she divulged that fact. And just a little while ago, she was ready to scream quackery at Mitchell for believing others were chasing the dial.
She might appear to be a scatter-brained novice, just like she feared yesterday when she met Mitchell. She’d spoken of time loss, unexplained temperature changes, shampoo bottles floating through walls, and the hovering object. Yet she’d had no hard evidence to confirm any of it. Mitchell appeared to have digested her report with professional courtesy. Was that all it was? Did he run back to his investigators and equate her confusion with inexperience? A paranormal investigator who couldn’t discern a haunting from an alien anomaly?
Iris’s initial intention was to rule out alien involvement. She didn’t believe in gray or green people. Now, she imagined the sky watchers might dominate the investigation. Her only tangible evidence of the investigation was the dial, some unidentified, plastic and metallic like device, round with the hands of a clock, but one that was never designed to measure time as she had come to know it. It screamed “out of this world” a lot louder than “some ghost’s toy.” There was still a possibility it was a control mechanism from the downed satellite. If so, no matter how odd it appeared, it could be terrestrial. But that didn’t come close to explaining its involvement with the spirit she was certain existed. Her psychic senses had never failed her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t justify that belief with hard evidence either.
A whiff of Kassidy’s breath broke her train of thought. She morphed out of her daze to cold lucidity. “I thought we agreed after the other night: no drinking during any phase of investigating.”
“Okay, but it was only one, Iris. I’m functional, not buzzed. In defense, it was this recording that has me over the edge. As if it wasn’t bad enough that every yardstick we ever used to judge a spiritual presence might need reevaluation—scratch that—will need revaluation. And where does that leave us? We’re going to look like rank amateurs.”
The feeling hit home with Iris; she rose from her chair and draped an arm over Kassidy’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure this one out. We’ll just be needing assistance.” Iris waited a long minute for Kassidy to smile.
“Are you guys ready?” It was Rachel’s voice from the adjacent living room. She had been busy preparing refreshments for the arriving guests. At least Iris hoped she was. If she had been eavesdropping, it might be the straw to break the camel’s back. Rachel had threatened to quit the team when DJ left. It seemed to Iris that DJ represented a sister of sorts for Rachel, who was a lone child. DJ never scolded Rachel for her rookie mistakes whereas Kassidy was certain to. Rachel didn’t need to hear any more discord. Displays of confusion, frustration, and anger from the lead investigator would not aid in solidarity. Iris was thankful this notion popped into her head. She must appear relaxed and confident, not only for the guest investigators, but for her team.
Iris heard the front door close. She bounded into the living room with Kassidy in tow to find DJ had returned from work. It was about the only thing DJ left the house for these days. Iris realized her sister still struggled with dreams, even fearing if she was sane or not. DJ seemed to have come to terms with the ordeal in the last month by channeling her trauma into one simple emotion: anger. If anger allowed her sister to function, Iris conceded she would deal with it. The young medium was still unbuttoning her coat when Iris grabbed a glass of iced tea from the coffee table as a peace offering and mostly because she didn’t want her sister blowing a gasket in front of the team. “Here, Sis, I made your favorite drink.” DJ waved a hand. Iris wondered how her half sister behaved around the general population. Was she continually behaving in a despondent manner? If so, Iris feared she would lose her job and fall further back into dysfunction.
“You didn’t have to, Iris. I said I’d appear to be a member of the team for tonight’s meeting and I meant it.” She hung her knee-length coat on the coat tree. “I don’t need bribes. And for god’s sakes, I’m okay.” Iris’s intervention had kept DJ’s infamous temper in check, but Kassidy circled a finger around her temple in jest. “And we agreed not to pressure you in anyway shape or form to rejoin the team or request your services. Didn’t we, team?”
Everyone nodded. DJ peered into their eyes, armed with a doubtful glance. It broke Kassidy, who giggled. “Okay,” DJ asked, “are we absolutely freaking sure Kassidy hasn’t spiked the tea?”
“No, we aren’t” Rachel responded with a mischievous grin. “But I’m absolutely freaking sure we have Absolut.”
“Yuck,” Kassidy scowled. “I like the vodka advertised by that pretty android girl.”
“I think Kassidy just likes pretty girls,” Rachel teased.
“Come on, our guests should be here any minute,” Iris reprimanded. “We want to project seriousness and confidence.”
“I’m seriously confident we don’t know what the hell we just investigated,” Kassidy concluded.
DJ crept up behind Rachel and Kassidy, draping an arm over each friend’s shoulder. “I am always glad to be with my buds. Leaving was never personal.”
Iris smiled and lowered her eyes to the floor. She pretended not to watch her younger sister hugging her friends. But Iris didn’t have to see anything. She felt their bond, psychically. It gave her all the confidence she would need for tonight.
“Wow,” an auburn-haired man exclaimed with a gasp upon entering. “Nice digs. Guys, check out the space in this room. It would make for a great headquarters.”
“Whoa—down puppy,” Mitchell responded. “Gavin, introduce yourself properly and gentlemanly to our gracious hosts.”
A younger man, possibly early twenties, with raven-black hair following from behind Gavin, wasted no time to quip. “Yeah, then make all the bad observations you want, we’re used to them.”
Iris eased up, observing how the UFO hunters alleviated stress. They weren’t too different from them. She cracked her neck, a relaxation technique, and stuck out a hand to greet outspoken Gavin.
“I wish I could accept your compliments on the living room, Gavin, but I’m afraid Mom’s life insurance policy gets the props.”
Everyone observed Gavin shrink from regret. He folded his arms in front of him, crisscrossed. “My sincere apologies. I’m sorry for offending you.”
Iris chuckled. “That’s just my dark humor taking over. Really, the room is this spacious because it’s supposed to be a combination living/dining room. Since DJ and I never dine here, we removed the table. If you think we need the table, we can always reassemble it.”
Gavin nodded while the dark-haired man patted his shoulder. “Nice first impression, Gavin. By the way, I’m Darian. Spelled with two As.”
More handshaking ensued until each woman was given the chance to introduce herself to each of the guests. Iris’s eyes were glued on DJ. Her sister’s complexion was nearly rose colored. It was the first time DJ had looked like herself since the accident, and Iris sensed a connection between DJ and Darian, especially as her sister’s eyes seemed to grow wider by the moment. DJ threw a reproachful glance her way as if to say: I’m on to you.
Kassidy plugged a wire from her laptop into the wall-mounted, flat-screen TV.
Gavin seated himself on a sofa, folded hands resting on his knees. Darian dared to take a seat on an opposite sofa, next to DJ. Iris noticed Mitchell observing his young investigator. She pushed Rachel into the last open space next to DJ.
Mitchell and Iris stood together, two leaders from different worlds looking ov
er the proceedings. Once the video began to play on the forty-six inch screen, things really began to resemble the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.
“You say this is a phantom-recording. No chance of the memory card being used by anyone else?” Gavin asked.
Kassidy cocked her head and folded her arms across and chest. “Not unless the store clerk had some fun with it. I unsealed it from its package moments before our investigation. It was a virgin. I’m sure of it.”
Gavin broke from Kassidy’s icy glare after a long moment. “Could this anomaly have anything to do with the artifact?”
Mitchell responded. “That seems to be the $64,000 question. Doesn’t it?”
“What if the artifact—or the dial—was some kind of recorder in itself and maybe it transferred the images onto your camera?” Darian asked.
“That’s a very good question,” Mitchell said. “Now, how would we go about proving it?”
“We would need to take the artifact apart. Reverse engineer it, just like those shy folks who hide out in underground bases at Area 51.”
Everyone laughed. “I trust you are good with your hands, Darian,” Mitchell said. “But it’s too dangerous. We still don’t know what it is or where it came from. And it’s radioactive to a degree. I wouldn’t risk opening it to expose any one of us further.”
“Yeah,” Gavin added, “I conducted a lot of searches online. It’s definitely not part of some video game, although one might mistake its protrusions for some kind of rad tech joystick. I also checked anything relating to satellites, specifically the hardware used. It was just as fruitless. I’m about 95 percent sure it’s not used in any satellites we know of. But . . . that begs the question, what about satellites we don’t know about. Ones possibly built with covert capabilities, namely, spy capability. Maybe some device that can record, unlike any video device we have ever heard of. Or . . . there is the possibility of aliens. Unfortunately, I can’t confirm that on Google.”
“Okay,” Mitchell said, “so that leaves us with a gaping hole. There are way too many possibilities concerning this dial. Is it terrestrial, extraterrestrial? Maybe both if it was indeed reverse engineered. I do believe Iris has a strong feeling that a spirit is involved. Can we go in the house, attempt another EVP recording? Maybe this time, the electronics will produce a more real-time picture. And whatever the outcome, we must also consider other natural and unnatural explanations.”
“Natural explanations, being . . .?” Rachel asked.
“Earth-based explanations, like fault lines. In combination with our object, the normal laws of physics might be altered.”
Iris felt her face lose color. She maintained science couldn’t be altered. If it could, what explanation might the video contain? She felt a need to go back to the home as Mitchell suggested. The Morses’ couldn’t remain in hotels forever. “I think we should investigate the house again. There is an answer out there, somewhere.”
The video repeated. “So, we don’t seem to glean much from the video. Other than it has recorded a different residence with very large rooms,” Mitchell added. “Iris, we still must consider abduction as a possibility. You did say time seemed to move slower at some point. I would think that had to be the period you lost time.”
“Yes, while we were waiting for Rachel. Time appeared to move slower, but that seems somewhat normal. They say a watched pot never boils.” Iris rested her chin on her hand.
“This video makes me wonder if Iris and Kassidy were somehow transported to this place during the time loss. I realize this is a disturbing possibility.” Mitchell kept watching the screen. Iris assumed he was fearful of her team’s response.
“But if this is indeed an alien intervention, why would they take us to some place so banal?” Kassidy questioned.
“I don’t understand either,” Mitchell responded. “Gavin, maybe you can try to match this footage with any other pictures or film ever uploaded.”
Iris tapped her foot and felt she couldn’t contain her feelings a moment longer. Mitchell’s team seemed attentive and professional. She was no longer afraid of possible ridicule. For all intents and purposes, Iris believed some sort of déjà vu was influencing the case. But was the influence coming directly from her, and not the dial.
“Everyone, I have one more piece of information. Actually, it’s just a feeling. But I’m almost certain I’ve been to the place on the video before. It’s just that it doesn’t feel as recent as two days ago. I psychically sense being there at some other point of time. Thing is, I can’t recognize the place, at least not from this video.”
“That seems plausible,” Darian remarked. “The video is limited to only two rooms. The limited information may not be enough to trigger full sensory recall.”
Kassidy pursed her lips and pointed a finger at Iris. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, instead of making me think I was blinded by some alcohol-induced hallucination?”
“I think we should call a break,” Mitchell said. Iris wasn’t certain if Mitch was calling a break to avoid an argument between her and Kassidy or if her déjà vu theory upset him.
Iris pulled Mitchell aside. “Walk with me, into the kitchen, please.” It seemed Mitchell was prepped for Iris’s full fury upon entering. His hands were flexing as he walked.
“What’s up? Was I out of line with my summations?”
“No, you weren’t. I may have been observing something else, right here, which may assist our investigation in the long run. Your friend Darian seems to have pushed a button with DJ. He’s been showing her some photos from his iPhone. They’ve been laughing. More specifically, she’s been laughing.” Iris was flummoxed. His reasoning to call a meeting had nothing to do with what she suspected. Some psychic she was turning out to be.
“Okay, I see. I’ll put a stop to this.”
Iris grabbed Mitchell by the wrist as he attempted to leave.
“No. I’m not explaining this correctly. DJ has been living like a shut in. Only leaves the house for work. No thought of boys. No thought of continuing school like she’d planned before my stepmother’s death. If she can connect with Darian, it’s going to go a long way in her recovery. And in time, she may entertain the possibility of using her gift again.”
“Which means we might obtain some answers from your spirit after all: like what is the dial and how did that video get recorded?”
“Exactly, so we need to further things along.”
“I can ask Darian to ask her out sometime . . .”
“No, that’s too slow. They need a date—tonight.”
Mitchell texted Darian, requesting that he text DJ to go for a cup of coffee. Iris was certain DJ had her phone about her person—at all times.
DJ RESPONDED to her phone’s chime. “Excuse me, Darian.”
The text read: I could use a paranormal break. How about getting some coffee? Your new bud, Darian.
She texted: I like your break. Let’s get out of here . . . like now . . .
DJ gave Iris another reproachful look upon slipping out the door. The sisters were joined telepathically. DJ realized this was a setup. Yet, she went anyway, realizing Iris was also a sister who loved her very much.
Their playful banter continued throughout the ride to the coffee shop. DJ and Darian never once had to wade through uncomfortable periods of silence. It was as if they had ridden the bus together at school and shared small talk.
Favorite subjects at school; music, clothing styles, and food dominated the discussion. What DJ liked most about Darian’s conversational skills was that they didn’t include any inquiries about ghost hunting or how she came to talk with the dead.
An order was placed for two mocha lattes. After the waitress departed, DJ began fumbling with a napkin. It was the first apprehensive moment she had spent with her new acquaintance.
“Something going on with that napkin I should know about?” Darian asked.
“Ooh. Caught me fiddling. My teachers never appreciated it either. Some thoug
ht I was lost in a daydream, but when I fiddle with things, I’m actually in the moment, formulating ideas and such.”
“I think I can relate.” Darian dislodged two packets of sweetener from a dispenser.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know I appreciate your self control. You’ve got to be busting to ask me about my gift. Everyone I ever meet eventually learns I’m a medium and can’t stop asking me about it. It’s as if I’m some sort of walking reference library. I want to tell them I’m not a field of study, I’m a damn person. Oops. There goes my self control.”
“I haven’t asked because we’re supposed to be on break per Mitchell’s orders.”
“Do you always follow instructions to the letter?”
“Detail is important. They say the devil is in the detail. I hate idioms, but it is wise to learn everything you can about the subject at hand.”
“So, I guess you guys are pretty stumped about the dial. I mean, how can you study something if you can’t find its definition?”
Darian lifted his eyes to the TV screen. It was placed above DJ, out of her view. “Well, sometimes definitions are wrong or they are skewed. Take the TV news, for example. They give snippets of a story, leaving out a whole lot of details. People seem to accept their conclusions. Their conclusions or definitions are consequently inaccurate, sometimes for the sake of brevity, sometimes for the sake of an agenda. So just because we can’t find a definition of the object, it doesn’t mean we’re stymied. It might be more objective to find the answer ourselves.”
“Taking the positive approach, I see.” DJ smiled.
“I like your smile. It’s honest.”
“I’m glad we met. You’re pretty down to earth. Yet . . .” DJ paused while the waitress served the coffees. “It seems you don’t share every idea.”
“Uh, well I try to be cautious with my speech—unlike my buddy, Gavin. He speaks without thinking. Sometimes his thoughts are brilliant; emphasis on the word sometimes.”