Parallel Process

by Barbara Sheridan

  He clicked on the recorder, and Madeleine’s voice crackled through the tiny speaker. “The ghost was warning us, I’m so sure of it. I mean, I never felt afraid of her, but it was clear that she didn’t want me to leave for the night shift and take Daria to stay downstairs.”

  Matt pushed the button on the recorder again and grinned triumphantly at Haku. “Like I said, a daemon.”

  “I dunno, Matt.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt waved the mini-recorder at Haku. “It’s right here, dude. Any malevolent or pissed-off spirit usually leaves people scared shitless and does damage of some kind.”

  Haku snatched up the palm-sized piece of electronics, his eyes widening. “If you’re right, this is the most powerful guardian apparition we’ve ever heard about. This is phenomenal, Matt!”

  “It is!” Matt grinned. “And I just made seventy-five bucks!”

  “What?” Haku scrunched up his nose.

  “We made a bet.” Matt grinned and leaned his head back against Haku’s waist.

  “I don’t remember actually saying anything to that effect.” Haku rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Denial is a sad thing in a parapsychologist,” Matt teased, looking up at Haku and grabbing back the mini-recorder.

  “Fine.” Haku rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. He took both sides of Matt’s face in his hands and bent over to kiss him on the chin.

  “Mmm.” Matt closed his eyes at the feel of Haku’s lips, his grin widening. “A few more of those and I’ll forget about that bet.”

  Haku sighed and pulled away. “You’re obsessed with sex, you know that?”

  Matt chuckled. “That’s a bad thing?” He frowned when his friend returned to the other side of the table and slumped down into the chair. “Haku?”

  “It’s nothing.” The other man leaned over the table, bangs falling across his face. “Just forget it.”

  “What?” Matt pouted and tilted back, teetering on the chair’s back legs. “What did I say?”

  Haku snapped a book shut. “You missed the lunch meeting.”

  “Oh, shit.” Matt covered his face with his hands, letting out a frustrated puff of air between his fingers. “Sorry, Haku. But I would’ve been late to the interviews for our case studies if I’d gone, anyway.”

  He tapped the recorder against the edge of the armrest before setting it next to the laptop. “You were there, so I’m sure everything went okay.” Matt chewed on his lower lip. “Right?”

  “We got one hell of an offer for a grant.” Haku tucked the books into his messenger bag. “Twelve thousand dollars.”

  “Twelve thousand!” Matt shot up too fast for the chair to compensate for the shift in weight. The chair tumbled backward and crashed to the floor, taking him with it.

  “Are you okay?” Haku gaped at him from over the table.

  “Twelve thousand!” Matt stared at Haku between his legs. “You’re kidding me!”

  Haku shook his head. “I kid you not ‑‑ and for doing a segment in one of Dannings’s documentaries, no less.”

  “That’s great news!” Matt grinned, reaching up toward Haku. “It doesn’t matter now what Bagelhole does at the Regent’s meeting tomorrow.”

  Pushing the laptop to one side and leaning across the table, Haku grabbed his hand. “It seems almost too good to be true.” He hoisted Matt halfway up.

  “Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Matt grinned. “This is twelve thousand bucks, Haku!”

  “Shhh!” A librarian peered out from behind one of the surrounding bookshelves, glaring at them through her six-inch-thick, red-framed glasses. The two men froze, Matt’s legs spread open over the edge of the chair and Haku’s face an inch from his crotch.

  Matt gave the older woman a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” She took a long look at them, then turned without another word, her nose up in the air.

  “Stuffy old biddy,” Matt mumbled.

  Haku finished pulling him up, snickering under his breath. “You keep making this kind of racket and she’ll get us banned from back here.”

  “It’s not like she caught us on top of the radiator humping each other senseless.” Matt’s eyes widened. “Hey ‑‑” He wiggled his eyebrows at Haku.

  “No.”

  Matt smirked. “You had to think about it before saying no, didn’t you?”

  Haku bopped him on the top of his head with a rolled-up copy of the monthly issue of the American Journal of Psychology. “Back to the grant, Matt. I dunno, something about Dannings didn’t feel right.”

  “The guy is a pinhead,” Matt agreed. “Adler so much as said so. But as long as he’s serious about his offer, I think we can suck it up.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Haku pressed his lips into a thin line.

  “So what do we have to do?” Matt asked. “We have a lot of research and data compiled over the past few months, so there’s lots to talk about.”

  “Not sure what we’re going to do yet.” Haku shrugged and slung the messenger bag over his shoulder. “I have his receptionist’s number, in case we get lost on the way to the film site or whatever.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Matt’s grin slipped. “But where are you going?”

  “I have to finish this paper.” Haku stepped away from the table. “I figure I’ll do it in the dorm.”

  “You don’t have to trudge all the way back up the hill.” Matt rested his elbows on the table, smiling innocently. “I’ll behave and let you work ‑‑ promise.”

  “It’s okay.” Haku shrugged again.

  “Then I’ll go with you.” Matt started to close his laptop’s screen, stopping when Haku waved him off.

  “Don’t bother, Foster’s probably there,” Haku explained. He cleared his throat. “It’s my room, too, so I shouldn’t be letting him chase me out of there anyway.”

  “Oh, okay.” Matt scratched the back of his head, confused. “But ‑‑”

  “I’ll see you later,” Haku interrupted. He flashed Matt a quick smile and ducked off, head bowed.

  “Bye,” Matt called after his lover. Frowning to himself, he whispered, “What was that about?”

  “Shhh!” the librarian hissed from somewhere in the maze of shelves.

  “Aw, shh yourself,” Matt grumbled, before turning back to his computer with a sigh.

  Chapter Four

  “President Carroll, I’m presenting this case to the Board of Regents as a matter of protecting our university’s dignity.” Beaglehole rubbed the flat of his palm over the shiny bald spot on the back of his head. Matt scowled at his own reflection on the greasy, pasty white skin. Standing beside him, Haku touched his elbow.

  “Do not say anything yet, Matt,” he warned under his breath.

  “I know, I know.” Matt scowled all the harder.

  A few feet in front of them, their department head waved a stack of papers at the row of school officials. The men and women who comprised the Board of Regents sat at folding tables that had been lined up along the right wall of the campus’s student union ballroom. They squinted against the late afternoon sunlight that filtered through the gaps in the venetian blinds covering the windows on the opposite wall. Matt scanned their contorted faces for any sign that they gave a rat’s ass about the steam Beaglehole was blowing, but most seemed tired after a long day of listening to student petitions and faculty griping.

  “This program of study ‑‑ and I use the term as loosely as possible, mind you ‑‑ is nothing but a waste of time and academic resources.” Beaglehole waved the papers around more vigorously, as if that would make the print easier to read at a distance of ten feet or so.

  “Professor, either show us those handouts or stop waving them around,” the president said wearily. She rested her chin in her hand, tucking her bobbed salt-and-pepper hair behind her ear.

  Beaglehole bumbled up to the table and passed out the papers while Matt tried not to laugh. Haku nudged him in the ribs, making the sound come o
ut more like a cross between a snort and a cough. The department head skewered him with a frigid look before turning back to the regents.

  “Just take a look at that spreadsheet,” the man huffed. “This program for the ‘Study of Paranormal Psychology’ is rife with over-spending, questionable research, and incompetent class curriculums. Do you realize that the freshman students in the introductory psychology courses that this program offers pass at an alarming rate of eighty-five percent? That’s outrageous!”

  A few members of the administration started mumbling among themselves. The president looked over the top of the sheet of paper in her hand. “Mr. Gavin and Mr. Nishikiwa, those are rather atypical statistics.” She frowned.

  The vice-chancellor seated on her left nodded. “We expect maybe fifty or sixty percent of students to pass on their first try.” He scratched at his bushy mustache.

  “Anything above that and people might think we’re operating at a community college’s level,” Beaglehole chimed in.

  Matt clenched his jaw and stared down at his sneakers, counting the loops in the lacing to keep from telling everyone on the board where they could shove their statistics. He shouldn’t have bothered getting dressed up for this meeting; he wore the one clean pair of Dockers and a button-down shirt he’d managed to sneak into Cyn’s laundry pile last night. Matt could already read the minutes for the get-together: At one p.m., President Carroll called the meeting to order. Motion to adopt agenda “Bullshit and More Bullshit” approved unanimously by a vote of twenty old farts.

  Matt glanced over at Haku’s loafers as his friend shuffled in place. “We use a lot of innovative teaching techniques in class,” Haku spoke up. “Students just happen to respond well to them.”

  The student body president chipped in his two cents from the end of the table. “Yeah, they grade on a great curve.”

  Haku groaned under his breath, and Matt winced. He looked up to see all the stodgy regents glowering at him and Haku. “We’re also concerned about the amount of money your program has been spending.” Carroll pursed her lips and scanned the paper. “Three thousand dollars in raw iron?”

  “Iron is a natural and very potent inhibitor of paradynamical relativity,” Matt tried to explain.

  “In real English, Mr. Gavin.”

  Their department head jumped in, wiggling his fingers in the air. “Iron makes the boogeyman easy to catch, Madam President,” he scoffed.

  Matt seared the man with a scathing look. “It works on demons, Meagerhole.”

  “It’s Beaglehole!” the man fumed.

  Madeline Carroll sighed and directed her next question to Matt and Haku. “Where is your professor and faculty advisor?”

  Haku traded glances with Matt before volunteering an excuse. “He’s tied up, um, out in the field.”

  “On a case study,” Matt added. “A very important one.” Anything to cover up the truth that Adler was hiding in his office until the smoke from the BOR meeting cleared.

  “Attending these gatherings is also important, if he expects to receive further funding from the university.” Carroll set the spreadsheet down. “Gentlemen, please make sure Professor Adler is aware of that.”

  Haku and Matt both nodded and mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Professor Meagerhole ‑‑ I mean, Beaglehole,” she quickly corrected herself, addressing the department head. “Terminating their funding in the middle of a school year is not something the Board is considering.”

  “Why not?” Beaglehole practically stomped his foot like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

  “Unless a case of gross misconduct or embezzlement is made, it’s against the university’s constitution to do so.” Carroll stifled a yawn. “It’s the same policy keeping the xylophone alive as a legitimate course of study in the music department.”

  “Woo hoo!” Three music juniors cheered in the back of the room, high-fiving each other and wiggling around in a nerdy rendition of a touchdown dance. The matching high-water khakis the three guys wore did nothing to help their image either.

  Carroll raised a hand. “But ‑‑” She fixed Matt and Haku with a stern look. “The program is on probation until the next BOR meeting. Justify to us why you gentlemen are spending so much and present us with some research. We want to see some results.”

  Haku made a quiet, choked sound of terror. But Matt put on a brave face and smiled. “Sure thing, President Carroll.”

  “This meeting is adjourned then.” She banged her gavel on the table. Scowling at the music majors in the back of the room, she called out, “And will you three stop that?”

  The kids stopped dancing and shuffled out along with the handful of other students lingering in attendance. The BOR members made a rush for the closest exit, tripping over their feet and briefcases as they ran. Beaglehole approached Matt and Haku.

  “This isn’t over.” He shifted his stare between them. “I’ll be watching the three of you.”

  “Bite it.” Matt snorted as the department head stormed off.

  Haku rubbed at the sides of his head, muttering under his breath about having to produce results. Another man approached, a pencil tucked behind his ear and spiral-bound notebook under his arm.

  “Wow, you guys dodged another bullet there ‑‑ congrats.” The guy gave them a sarcastic, braces-filled grin. “So it’s off to hunt down Slimer next? Hang on, let me get a couple of quotes for the student paper.” He whipped out his notebook.

  Matt scowled at the reporter. “Not now, Rick.”

  “Not to mess with the think tank you boys are running, but Haku looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm or something.” Rick folded his arms across his chest.

  “Dealing with assholes isn’t good for my migraines,” Haku said dryly. “That’s my quote for the paper.” Rick moved for his pencil, and Haku’s eyes widened. “Wait ‑‑ don’t really quote me on that!”

  Rick laughed. “Hell, I wasn’t really going to do it. No one gives a shit about your program on campus anyway.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Matt snapped.

  “Hey, it’s the truth. I’m just the impartial observer reporting to the masses, my friends. At least you guys made this regents’ meeting a little more interesting than usual.”

  “We have another engagement.” Haku glanced down at his wristwatch. “If you want to razz us, save it for another time.”

  “Simmer down, no need to go kung fu on my ass, Nishikawa.” Rick tucked the notebook under his arm. “The truth hurts, but that’s how it is. You were all gung ho about looking for the ‘real answers’ when you worked on the paper before, Matt. So you should appreciate that.”

  “I still am looking for the truth, Dick,” Matt replied.

  “Then I stand corrected.” The reporter rubbed the edges of his goatee. “Tell you what ‑‑ when you show these results to the BOR next quarter, I’ll make it a front page story in the paper. Give you two some of that respect you’re missing at the moment.”

  “We don’t need your charity,” Haku said frostily.

  “If it’s the ‘truth,’ then it’s not charity.” Rick stepped away. “I’ll just be doing my job, same as you.”

  When they were alone in the room, Matt turned to Haku. “And I have a soapbox?”

  “Not now.” Haku started out of the room. “It’s almost sunset, and we’re supposed to be at the site for the documentary in twenty minutes.”

  Matt tagged along after his friend as they wrapped around the building and took the walkway up to the front of the university. “Damn BS meeting.” He sighed. “By the time the cab comes to pick us up, we’re going to be late for Dannings.”

  “Oh, come on, Matt!” Haku raised his hands, frustrated. “Your car is still at the impound lot?”

  “For your information, it’s not at the pound.” Matt ran a hand through his messy hair. “It’s still parked in front of my apartment with a cast-iron boot on the front wheel.” He dropped his hand to his side. “At least it’s safe from the boog
eyman.” He snorted.

  They stopped at the top of the wide stone steps that led down to the courtyard. Flagpoles and a statue of the university’s founder greeted visitors and the high-ranking faculty, who were allowed to park in the lot closest to the school’s entrance. Banyan trees shaded the sidewalk wrapping around the lot, leaves rustling in the breeze.

  “Why don’t you ever say anything?” Haku frowned at Matt.

  “What do you mean?” Matt blinked. “I said I needed the seventy-five bucks, didn’t I?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Haku pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not psychic, Matt. I can’t pluck the thoughts out of your head or decipher what you really mean when you blurt something out.”

  “And I am?” Matt tugged at his hair. “’Cause what you’re talking about now isn’t making any sense to me, either. I just didn’t want to hit you up for money.”

  Haku sighed. “Here, let me.” He tried straightening out Matt’s stubborn blond curls. “I’ll give Dannings’s people a call to let them know we’ll be late.”

  “There’s no need,” a voice chirped from behind them. They turned to face a frizzy-haired woman in an olive green hoodie, a camera hanging from her neck. “I’m Elaine Belson, the producer with the film crew. Dr. Dannings asked me to pick the two of you up here at the university.”

  Haku blinked. “Oh, okay.” Matt and Haku shook her hand.

  “Thanks,” Matt said, flashing her one of his all-American-boy sunny smiles.

  “Let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  Haku and Matt exchanged a curious glance when Elaine Belson drove them to a dingy old building that once housed a transfer station for the old Red Car line transit system.

  “Dr. Dannings thought this place would provide the perfect atmospheric backdrop for the narrated portion of the program you’ll be involved with,” Elaine told them as they followed her inside the partially gutted brick building. “You guys signed onto the project at the perfect time. We thought we’d have to postpone filming this segment with a narrator.”