The Keeper

by Natasha Mostert

  She suddenly turned a corner and gestured to an open doorway. ‘In here.’ Nick stepped into an office that was decorated in the determinedly feminine colours of peach and powder pink.

  After they had both sat down, she said, ‘You said you’re a journalist and that you’re doing an article on Adrian Ashton.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me about him.’

  ‘I’d rather you talked to me than some of the other people round here. He was not universally loved.’

  ‘I gathered that. Did you know him well?’

  ‘We were colleagues, as well as friends.’

  ‘What did you think of him?’

  ‘A brilliant mind. Absolutely first-rate.’

  ‘I detect a “but” in your voice.’

  Longford didn’t answer. Pushing a stack of papers neatly to one side of her desk, she said, ‘What exactly is it you want to know about Ash, Mr Duffy?’

  ‘What was he working on? Why did he leave here on bad terms?’

  ‘The answer to those two things is probably one and the same.’ Longford paused. ‘Mr Duffy, before we go on, you have to understand one thing. We’re a research facility and the people who work here are scientists. We’re supposed to explore new horizons. But the scientific community is not a lenient one and protocols are rigid. On the one hand, a good scientist is open to anything that comes his way. On the other hand, he should be ruthless about not giving credence to superstition and quackery. Science protects itself by sometimes weeding out new ideas that should probably have been allowed to flourish but, because they deviate so much from the wisdom of the great white fathers, they get rejected. Crucially, they don’t get the grants they need.’

  ‘The great white fathers?’

  ‘Newton. Descartes. Darwin. Einstein. De Broglie. Schrodinger. Even in the twenty-first century, their laws and insights still rule the world of biology and classical physics. None of them ever questioned Descartes’s edict that soul, mind and body are separate. But there are scientists out there who disagree. Ash was one of them. Some of his own ideas also jettisoned many of the sacred tenets of Western medicine. That never goes down well with your peers.’

  ‘Did you agree with his ideas?’

  ‘Truthfully? I don’t know. But let me put it to you this way: Western medicine is a powerful tool for healing. But it still has not discovered the body’s master computer. We know a great deal about the nuts and bolts of the body—bones, blood, enzymes, hormones. We value the brain and the heart above all else. But Western medicine has yet to discover the key to life itself. We still don’t know why we fall ill. How we think. Why your pinkie develops as a finger and your big toe as a toe even though they share the same genes and proteins. How one cell becomes a fully developed human being. What happens to our consciousness when our bodies die. In other words, what is the organising principle of it all.’

  ‘And Ashton thought he knew?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘He thought it was chi?’

  ‘Yes. And he was obsessed with gaining physical control of it. Ash was inspired by Robert Becker’s research on energy medicine and Fritz-Albert Popp’s experiments on biophoton emissions coming from humans. One of the things Popp studied was the kind of light that is present in a person who is severely ill—for example, cancer patients—and in each instance he found that the biophoton emissions were off. They had lost their natural periodic rhythms and coherence. You can imagine the implications this might have for the field of medicine.’

  ‘And Ashton?’

  ‘Ash was fascinated by Popp’s studies. Machines have been built that can measure human light emissions, you know, and Ash had his own light emissions studied and his periodic rhythms established. He called them his energy numbers, if I remember correctly. He spent years on this.’

  ‘And?’ Nick prodded.

  ‘Well, what excited Ash in particular was that when Popp ran his tests on volunteers, he noted that their light emissions could be correlated by day and night and by week and by month—as though the body followed not only its own biorhythms, but also those of the world. Ash was excited. He interpreted Popp’s research as our energy being in sync with the energy of the world around us. Being Ash, of course, he took the even more extreme view that this energy can be controlled and exchanged.’

  ‘Exchanged? I don’t follow.’

  Longford cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. ‘Ash believed that people can exchange their chi. Your energy can influence mine and my energy can influence yours—for better or for worse.’

  ‘That sounds very New Age.’

  ‘Ash looked at it scientifically. His theory was that we are all receivers and transmitters of energy in a quantum world.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘According to quantum physics, once subatomic waves or particles are in contact with each other, the actions of one will always have an impact on the actions of the other one. It doesn’t matter if they separate and it doesn’t matter how far they go in different directions. Physicists found this very upsetting at first, you understand. Even Einstein did not like this long-distance communication—he called it “spooky”. But it has been verified numerous times: the universe has memory. We most certainly do live in an interconnected universe.’

  Nick frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand how this relates to people actually being able to exchange their energy with one another.’

  Longford sighed. ‘Well, this is where Ash broke ranks with other scientists and why his work was so controversial. Quantum physics, as it is understood today, is considered only relevant to dead matter at the micro-scale and definitely not to human bodies and consciousness. Ashton believed our bodies also operate according to the laws of the quantum world. Why, he asked, should quantum physics only affect the small and the inanimate and not the large and the living? If the particles from which we are made exchange energy and retain memories, why would there be no consequences at the macro-scale?’ Longford looked at Nick as though expecting a response.

  ‘And this put him at loggerheads with his colleagues?’

  ‘Well, yes. Ash insisted that quantum theory could also be applied to biology: that human beings are a network of energy fields that interact with our chemical cellular systems. But what really set the cat among the pigeons was Ash’s insistence that we are all plugged into a vast psi-space called the Zero-Point Field, which allows us to interact and exchange our energy, even our consciousness.’

  Nick said slowly, ‘I can see that this idea might have created problems for him.’

  ‘It was bad enough that Ash was going round saying quantum physics has effects in a single human being,’ Longford continued. ‘Imagine his colleagues’ reactions when he suggested connections between humans.’

  ‘Do you believe in the Zero-Point Field yourself?’

  ‘Of course.’ Longford nodded emphatically. ‘The Field itself is not a controversial concept. It is merely an infinitely large space filled with energy. Where Ash goes off the rails, according to his peers, is his insistence that the Zero-Point Field provides the scientific explanation for chi and its link to human consciousness and the light shining from our own bodies. Chi, after all, is described by the Chinese as the energy of the universe, connecting to the energy within us. Just as the Zero-Point Field is all-pervasive, so chi is all-pervasive. Ash even insisted that the Zero-Point Field could explain paranormal activities like remote viewing and remote healing.’

  Remote healing.

  ‘Mr Duffy?’

  ‘I have a friend who claims to be a long-distance healer. She believes she can use her own vital energy to protect another person.’

  Longford’s gaze was keen. ‘Ash would have been very interested in your friend. Ash believed there are those among us who are intuitives—people who have a great natural ability to tap into the psi-space. He called them gifted innocents.’

  ‘So Ash got into trouble because of his theories abo
ut psi-space?’

  ‘And for claiming to have discovered a way to access it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Through dreams and meditation. What’s more, he claimed he had managed to pull it off.’

  ‘So he got fired because he was lying?’

  ‘No—because he was not.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Ash managed to access other people’s dreams.’

  ‘You’re saying this actually happened?’ Nick was incredulous.

  Longford nodded. ‘It appears so. As I said, we have a laboratory here where people are taught how to dream lucidly. All these students have dream diaries and when they wake up they write down what they experienced in their dreams. When we compared their notes with Ash’s, they correlated. He saw what they saw… without ever being privy to their notebooks. Ash had no access to these students, so he could not have influenced them in any way. No subliminal suggestions. He never even spoke to them.’

  ‘But that’s fantastic.’ Nick stared at Longford. ‘You should have given him a prize. Not fired him.’

  ‘We did not fire him. He just wasn’t able to find funding.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The institute was worried about lawsuits. People complaining that their privacy had been violated. Or that they’d picked up health problems because he walked around inside their heads. And the institute was worried about the giggle factor. They didn’t want to get the reputation that we’re running a psychic hotline out here.’

  ‘So he left.’

  ‘Yes. And when he left, a lot of the energy disappeared from this place with him.’ She smiled faintly. ‘No pun intended.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to him afterwards?’

  ‘I heard he lived in Asia for many years. He never worked at any academic research facility again as far as I know, but I’ve heard rumours that he started a secret book on the Internet—a work in progress. It has a following among other Zero-Point Field fanatics.’

  ‘I wonder why he would choose to go on the net rather than publish professionally.’

  ‘Probably because he was never able to get published in a reputable journal again. Those science publications with their peer-review systems are unforgiving, you know. Also, I heard his book is a mixture of personal philosophy, diary entries and science: in other words, it does not conform to classic scientific format. The name already gives you an indication—it is called The Book of Light and Dust. That is far too poetic a name for a straightforward scientific treatise.’

  Nick reached for his pen. ‘Can you give me the URL?’

  ‘No. I’ve never been able to find it myself. It’s all very secretive. You have to track it down and break all kinds of passwords and secret codes to gain access. You have to show yourself worthy—that kind of thing.’

  Nick frowned. ‘You’d think if he wants to go public with his ideas, he wouldn’t make the book so difficult to find.’

  ‘He is probably no longer interested in a debate with classically trained scientists. But we scientists are narcissists, Mr Duffy.’ Her voice was wry. ‘We all want to leave a legacy. Ash is no different. He would want to be remembered… even if only by a small group of true believers.’

  For a few minutes it was quiet between them. Then Nick said, ‘He never got in touch with you again?’

  ‘No.’ For just a moment a great sadness came into her eyes. She had cared for him, Nick suddenly realised. This had not been a platonic relationship.

  Longford spoke slowly. ‘I can’t believe thirteen years have gone by since I last saw him. By this time, Ash must be well into old age, so he may not be as passionate about all of this stuff as before. The fire burns out, you know.’ She suddenly looked tired.

  ‘Old age?’ Nick was startled. ‘The Adrian Ashton I’m talking about is in his mid-thirties.’

  ‘No.’ Longford’s voice was firm. ‘Ash was quite a bit older than me.’

  Nick looked at her. She seemed to him to be in her fifties, but with women you could so easily be wrong…

  As though reading his mind, Longford said tartly, ‘I’m fifty-four, Mr Duffy.’

  ‘There must be some mistake. We can’t be talking about the same man. Do you have a photograph of him?’

  She hesitated. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Tall guy. Fair-haired. Good-looking.’

  ‘Yes. That sounds like Ash. But he can’t be in his thirties, I assure you.’ She was starting to look agitated. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Duffy, but I have another appointment. I’ll walk you outside.’

  As they reached the door that gave access to the car park, Longford turned to Nick. ‘Does he really look that young?’

  Nick nodded.

  ‘You know, he always said that if you managed to harness the energy of the Zero-Point Field, not only would you be able to power up every car on the planet, but you would also be able to draw on its healing properties and live forever. He was joking, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Some of us are fortunate. We keep our vitality instead of fizzling out. It’s just luck. Ash was one of the most vital people I knew. It’s no surprise he’s ageing well.’

  ‘You miss him, don’t you?’ After Nick spoke he was sorry. This woman would not wish to share something so personal with a stranger.

  But to his surprise she nodded. ‘I miss his sense of beauty. He was able to see beauty in the tiniest thing, you know. In my mind I always think of him as walking through a beautiful world shimmering with light and energy. When you were with him, he could make you see that world too.’ She made an embarrassed gesture with her hand. ‘I’m getting sentimental. I apologise.’

  ‘Not at all. Thank you very much for your help.’

  ‘If you see him again’—she hesitated—‘tell him to come and visit me. It would be good to catch up.’

  ‘I will do that.’

  She nodded and turned round to leave.

  ‘Doctor Longford…’

  She looked over her shoulder.

  ‘Was Adrian Ashton a martial artist?’ The answer to this, Nick thought, would go some way to establishing whether they were indeed talking about the same man.

  ‘Oh, yes. It was his greatest passion. And he always said it might produce the key.’

  ‘The key to what?’

  But she had already turned back and was walking away, looking straight ahead of her.

  Keeping his eyes on her retreating figure, Nick took out his phone and pressed the speed-dial number for Flash. When Flash answered, he spoke briefly. ‘It’s Nick. Meet me at the office in two hours. And bring Mia with you.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  ‘The Book of Light and Dust? That’s kind of a cool name,’ Flash nodded appreciatively.

  ‘Well, can you find it?’ Nick was impatient. ‘Longford says it’s hidden somewhere on the Internet and isn’t easily accessible. She made it sound as though you have to jump through hoops to get to it.’

  ‘I can find it, yes. The question is: how long have I got?’

  Mia spoke for the first time. ‘Yesterday would be too late.’

  ‘Hmm. Hmm. If it’s an underground site, I won’t find it by Googling it. I’m going to have to trawl through some shady areas. That’s not so easy.’ Flash thought for a moment. ‘I might start with some of the chat rooms.’

  ‘Chat rooms? Are you serious?’

  ‘Of course. You can pick up a lot of gossip there.’ Flash turned towards his computer and flexed his fingers. ‘Let’s see if I can get a lead on where the chatter’s at. Pedal to the metal.’

  For the next hour Mia and Nick watched as Flash sped from one site to another—a virtual acid trip through a formless, borderless world of faceless identities and made-up personas; a sprawling universe of off-the-wall ideas, bad grammar and lots of attitude.

  The first clue was found in a chat room called #totalenergy.

  Flash: Looking for The Book of Light and Dust. Anyone heard
of it?

  A reply appeared almost immediately.

  Dark Decider: Why, dude?

  Flash: Heard it was some radical chi trip.

  Dark Decider: Radical is right. You don’t want to mess with this shit, man.

  Flash: Live dangerously. Ha. Ha.

  Dark Decider: Eyeball?

  Mia was shoulder-surfing. ‘What does he mean?’

  ‘At the moment everyone in the chat room can follow our conversation,’ Flash explained. ‘So he wants to go one-on-one. See?’ A small window had opened on the screen in front of him.

  Flash: You read the book already?

  Dark Decider: No, man. Not me. But I heard you go to this board. BBS 3*32. Passcode: superc*hi. You find directions there.

  Flash: Thanks for sharing.

  Dark Decider: Peace, brother. Be safe.

  The window disappeared.

  ‘It’s a bulletin board.’ Flash’s bony fingers were already moving again. ‘These boards are unregulated, you know. Some scary stuff gets posted on them. Like how to blow up Big Ben.’

  ‘Well, at least you have a lead,’ Nick said hopefully.

  But if Nick thought the end of the search was in sight, he was disappointed. The bulletin board supplied another URL and that site directed them to yet another location. Flash jumped from site to site. On some of them were helpful hyperlinks. On others there were barriers and Flash had to identify small hidden icons buried in the text or find steganographic visuals. He always found them, but it took time.

  After another two hours Flash sat back and rubbed his neck. ‘It’s no use the two of you sitting here staring at me. You should shoot off. Don’t you have a fight tomorrow?’ He looked at Nick.

  Nick nodded reluctantly. ‘OK. But you call me immediately if you find it, all right?’

  ‘Yeah. But don’t hold your breath. This is going to be leisurely.’

  Nick turned to look at Mia. Her eyes were exhausted. ‘Let’s go home.’ He held out his hand.