The Altar in the Hills and Other Weird Tales

by Brandon Barrows

  I want to panic, deprived of my one source of comfort. Swaddled in this liquid embrace, however, my mind is clearer than it has been – clearer than I can remember it ever being – and yet still I cannot remember this land or how I have come to be here. I know, somehow, that I should be worried, but I’m not. I am instead possessed by a sheer and total calmness and bolstered by a strange urge contrary to every instinct I have. It surges forward from places within the core of my being that I didn’t know existed and impels me to plunge into greater uncertainty. I dive, with no intention but to become somehow closer to this phenomenon that has made me feel whole and alive in ways I didn’t know I was missing. With that release into the unfamiliar, I feel something enter me; something my waking mind could not conceive of existing outside of this place that must be a dream. Yes – this place must be a dream.

  Now, secure in the knowledge that this place is no place at all, I surrender myself fully, completely, without any reservations or lingering fear, knowing that whatever happens here has no consequence. And in that moment, the breath of the universe washes over me, sending chills down my spine that radiate into parts of my being that are more than physical.

  As I sink deeper down into the current, naked and insignificant, I realize that this is not a dream at all.

  Lewis

  Excerpted from the session logs and case report file of Dr. Jeremiah Fenster, M.D., Ph.D., Miskatonic University Hospital, Children’s Psychology Department.

  October 14th, 2009. Patient – “Lewis Doe”

  12:34 p.m.

  It’s been about thirty minutes since I began my first session with the child the administration has dubbed “Lewis.” As reported by other staff, he doesn’t seem to be at all afraid, or even wary, of me but neither will he open up. Unfortunately, this is pretty much what I was told to expect. He’s actually lost interest in me for the moment and is watching something out of the western window, giving me a chance to get this on paper. As if I’d forget any of it.

  For the first few minutes, he seemed to be studying me as much as I was him – and far more openly than I’m comfortable with. At least it gave me a chance to observe him closely.

  The physical abnormalities that Dr. Menton noted in Lewis’s file (see section A-24) are readily apparent and he wasn’t kidding when he said they were “creepy.” Not a term I’d use, but I have to agree with the sentiment.

  At any rate, before the hospital figures out what to do with him, they’d like an idea of where Lewis came from and how he ended up alone on that barge in the river, so I better give this another try.

  “Lewis,” my voice falters and I fidget, annoyed with myself because I should be projecting authority to the strange child. “I’d like us to try doing this puzzle together.” I hold up the box and flash my brightest smile. I love puzzles; they’re great for connecting with my patients. Unlike so many other things, they make sense – no matter how many pieces, no matter how difficult to fit together, it’s something that can be solved. “Does that sound like fun?”

  Lewis grins back at me, his too-wide mouth showing too many teeth – more teeth should possibly be able to fit in there. But he only focuses on me for a second before those weird, runny eyes start drifting again – in opposite directions no less.

  I suppress a shudder. The disgust he inspires in me is physical. I’ve dealt with child sociopaths who seemed more human. I can’t imagine having to do the initial examination when they brought him in. The thought makes me ill. I know he can’t help the way he is, but still I want to run, to hide, anything to get away from this thing they tell me is a child.

  Instead, I dump the puzzle pieces out of the box onto the table, keeping up a big, shiny smile I hope doesn’t look as fake as it feels. I’m a professional. I can do this. I want to do this, even if only to prove to myself I can. Besides, after volunteering to take responsibility for at least this portion of Lewis’s treatment – whatever that will ultimately entail – the administration wouldn’t look kindly on me shirking those duties, so I’ve sort of put myself over a barrel.

  Lewis’s head turns back in my direction, drawn by the sound of the pieces scattering across the polished wooden surface. I try to encourage him and gesture towards the cardboard shapes. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

  There’s no way I can possibly be prepared for Lewis’s response as a whip-like tongue lashes from his mouth, snagging a piece and dragging it back to his maw.

  The boy grins even wider than before, a ribbon of drool seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

  I shift nervously and look towards the doorway. Sixteen minutes left in this session, then I’ll go right back to my office and start my resignation letter.

  Through the Ether

  "It appears possible for man… to harness [the] ether and at his command… old worlds would vanish and new ones would spring into being.”

  – Nikola Tesla

  April 21st, 1886 -

  As vitally important as the product of a creative brain is to the development of both mankind and the world in which we live, more difficult than the birth of each idea is its successful transmission to others. I emphasize "successful" because as much as I can write, speak and demonstrate the foundation of my ideas on alternating current I cannot bring my investors to believe in my cause. It is all the more frustrating because without their backing, the Tesla Electric Light and Manufacturing concern we've built to date will go no further without their complete and total support. I know in my heart that this is the future – they just cannot yet see it.

  I understand their objections – radical ideas are never initially well-received, no matter how well-supported – but isn't the mark of intelligence the ability to be persuaded by reasonable arguments rather than clinging to initial opinions that can be proven unfounded? These men, for all their business acumen, can see me as nothing more than the inventor of a clever new lamp. True, the venture has so far brought them profits, but I fear I will be unable to shake their impressions and gain the additional funds required without the promise of swift and impressive remuneration. And that I cannot do; no matter how badly I need their support, I will not stoop to lying to these men.

  Still, I am not ready to concede defeat in this. The government has granted my patent requests for the new regulators. Surely if that hidebound organization can be convinced of their uniqueness and potential applications, my reluctant partners can be, as well.

  May 27th, 1886 -

  Has not man evolved past the need to rely on pure instinct? Have we as a species not gained the ability to allow our innate reason to assert itself and become on the whole ever more systematic and designing? As much as I believe this should be true, I am presented with evidence to the contrary.

  I have met three times more with the investors with the same disappointing results each time. They simply do not possess the foresight or creativity to see the value in what I am presenting to them. Mister Arnold, in particular, seems to be dead-set against the idea of my AC motors. He brought up the failures of the many others who have tried in recent memory and presented his anecdotes as if such were evidence that the thing was not possible! I listened patiently, waiting for my chance to rebut his argument but when I had scarcely begun, he cut me off saying, "Mister Tesla, my gut tells me that it just cannot be done." More galling than his basic incivility were the nods and murmurs of agreement from most of the others. I give them mathematics, engineering and logic and they refute me with messages from their "guts."

  Worst of all are the whispers I hear, circulating amongst the colleagues with whom I keep in contact. Edison, they say, undermines me at every step with a word here and a nudge there. I cannot believe that. For all his faults, Edison is a man of reason and learning. Such childish behavior is beneath him.

  May 27th, 1886 (cont.) -

  Happier news - I've received a trans-Atlantic letter from a gentleman called Ethan Layport, who is interested in my theories on wave-form transmission. I'm unsure where he has heard
of my work in this particular field as I've yet to tell more than a handful of people, and published nothing, but he seems rather well-versed in the aspects that I've developed to date and quite enthusiastic. His commentary is among the most intelligent I've yet encountered and he seems to understand my work as well as I.

  I will have to review some of my notes on the matter and give Mister Layport's epistle a second reading before composing a return missive. Already, even without knowing precisely what I will say, I find myself looking forward to his response. If nothing else, this was a most-welcome distraction from my current affairs and will perhaps lead to more interesting discourse.

  June 4th, 1886 -

  The past week has been a pleasant one after the previous months' trials and strain. I took a brief leave from the offices in order to refresh myself on the details of my thoughts on wave-forms and the ether all around us, which I believe to be their primary means of transmission. It is an odd thing to study one's own work, but eminently enjoyable.

  As I read my notes and journals, I composed a letter to Mr. Layport and tried to put as much thought into my words as his own conveyed to me. I have read and reread his letter and find myself increasingly convinced that he is not only a kindred spirit, but perhaps a visionary in his own right.

  I anticipate with genuine excitement his response.

  June 6th, 1886 -

  I have not been back to my "official" work for two full days yet and already my financial backers are badgering me once more.

  I fear that my assertions regarding the U.S. government's patent-grants may have been a mistake. Lead once again by Arnold, the group now demands I build prototypes. I have proven to peers, colleagues and even the "eminent Edison" himself, during my tenure in his employ, that I need no models or prototypes. My devices are as real in my mind as they could ever be in the hand of a close-minded penny-pincher and, indeed, within my mind I can enjoy the purest forms of experimentation without fear or worry of waste or error.

  I expressed to the gentlemen that the moment a device is constructed to carry into practice an unfinished idea that the details innate to the apparatus become so engrossing that the original purpose of the construction is lost. Results may be obtained but at the cost of lost quality, time and resources. Is not their primary concern financial? Is not waste of resources a waste of money? I don't think they can even see the hypocrisy in their request.

  Prior to attaching myself to this particular group, I have never before encountered exception to my methods and I am vaguely insulted. Needless to say, I flat out refused the request.

  I left the offices earlier than is my practice and returned home to try and relax from my confrontation. Mr. Layport's letter (the original, as no second could have arrived this soon) was inexplicably found on the table in the drawing room. I do not recall leaving it there, nor even removing it from the desk in my little office off the bedroom, but having seen it again I reread it and began to mull some additional points that had not occurred to me before. I become further convinced of Mr. Layport's erudition and feel that we would complement each other excellently as research partners. Perhaps, even given the distance between us, something might be arranged.

  June 21st, 1886 -

  Another meeting with the investors this afternoon. Beforehand, Mr. Weatherby took me aside and asked what compromise could be made between myself and Arnold, now acting as the de facto head of my ostensible benefactors. The man truly seemed like he wished to find an equitable solution and I hated to disappoint him when he suggested it could do no harm to build the prototype his fellows requested. I considered explaining again exactly what harm could be done but decided it would be useless. In the end, I told Weatherby I would consider it.

  By the conclusion of the meeting with the entire group I knew that even that concession would not be enough for Arnold, but I finally agreed to his demand if for no other purpose than to delay the inevitable while I plan.

  Much as I am loathe to admit, I am beginning to think that Tesla Electric Light & Manufacturing was a grave mistake.

  July 3rd, 1886 -

  Received a response from Mr. Layport today. He appreciated my answers to his questions and my comments on his assertions as well as adding many more of his own.

  My theory on the cosmic rays emanating from the sun, as well as from more-distant stars, being harnessable for mankind's usage makes perfect sense to him and he did not dismiss or scoff at the idea that every exertion requires the permanent expenditure of life-energy – those rays being that of our sun. He goes on at great lengths about his own astronomical observations, some theories he has devised concerning the basic components and the types of energy that make up reality itself and how those theories dovetail with the physics of my own.

  Layport closed his letter, in a language that came across to me as almost shy, with a wish that the two of us could work together in some fashion. I think I will explain my theory on the ethers in my next letter.

  August 6th, 1886 -

  The dynamo prototype, outfitted with my improved regulators, was completed some weeks ago and worked exactly as I had envisioned and designed it. I had assumed that this would be enough for Arnold and that I'd be left in peace for a time. Not so, unfortunately; now he demands greater improvements in efficiency and lowered cost, as well. When I asked if he intended to pursue my AC motor program, he said, "The group has yet to decide on that."

  "The group”… and I had thought that I was in charge of this company's research direction. Arnold and his cohorts were intended to simply be a source of funding. I cannot see why they care so much as long as we are making money. After all, with or without the dynamo and the regulators and the motors, the company is still reaping profits from the light fixtures.

  The stress of this situation is beginning to wear on me. My sleep is disturbed by unusual dreams so vivid they rouse me from my slumber, but upon awakening I can recall nothing but a sense of how life-like they seemed. I must take pains to distance myself emotionally from the day’s events before retiring, if at all possible. Balance, as ever, is key.

  As an aside, I've received nothing further from Layport, to my disappointment. Perhaps I put him off with the explanation of my ether theory.

  August 17th, 1886 -

  Several days ago, I awoke in the small hours of the morning drenched in perspiration, with my chest heaving and legs cramping as if I had run a great distance. Lodged within my mind was an inexplicable fright of a presence nearby that I could not perceive. With effort, I steadied myself and regained control of my breathing and nerves, knowing that it was almost certainly just the lingering traces of one of the unusually-realistic dreams I have been experiencing. Still, however, the sense of an unseen other within my private demesne could not be shed and I relented to my own foolishness and made a thorough investigation of my rooms. I found nothing, as I expected, and returned to bed still possessed by that irrational impression of not being alone.

  A variation has since occurred nightly, though not nearly as terrible as the first such. I have forced myself to come to terms of a sort with my own troubled psyche, which allows me acceptance, if not relief.

  Perhaps putting such troubles out of mind is best, though I know full well that this is dangerous mental territory. I must take care not to relapse.

  September 9th, 1886 -

  My days at the Light & Manufacturing firm are numbered, of that I am sure. Arnold demanded yet-greater efficiency from my dynamo and I explained that it was not possible to further improve my machine's production of electrical actions at this time; at least not with the technology available. He seemed to think I was making excuses and stormed out. I don't know how else to say something but the plain truth – the machine is already at its peak. Clearly, this was not the answer he sought.

  It was only with the greatest restraint that I kept myself from expressing my thoughts aloud and further alienating Arnold, or anyone else for that matter. I have grown irritable of late, born from lack of
quality sleep and the stress of my waking life.

  I know this cannot continue much longer.

  October 14th, 1886 -

  They've done it. Arnold and his cronies have removed me from my position at the company that bears my name.

  Arnold was prepared with some fiction about my standing in the way of the company's continuing technological development and financial progress. What could I say to that? The company would not exist were it not for technology that I invented and all present in that room knew it. Any statement of defense on my part would be ludicrous in the face of such attacks.

  I don't know what I'll do next.

  October 31st, 1886 -

  Finally received word from Mr. Layport. He apologized profusely for his lengthy response time, explaining that he was so astonished by my last letter's contents that he wished to take the time to both properly digest them and to study the relevant material available to him so as to compose an intelligent response.

  He proposed, in reference to my assertion that the ether around us has no easily-discernible qualities and hence has remained unobserved by science, that it is likely the same substance as composes outer space and that its very lack of properties is its defining quality. Like God Himself, Layport wrote, the only properties such a non-substance could have is what we attribute to it and that it would be up to us to find a way to imbue it with recordable characteristics. He suggested that since the ether would in theory curve light around large bodies, that perhaps specially-designed mirrors and some sort of light-generating device might be viable in capturing some measure of the thing.