Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set

by P. E. Padilla

Aha!, I’m not crazy. I actually did go to that other place. So, not insane. That was good. But he still had a problem. How would he get back there? He returned to his meditation room to think.

  Ok, Sam, let’s just go through this problem logically. You did the same things as before, but they didn’t work. What has changed? Can I recreate the earlier procedure exactly?

  Thinking it through, Sam finally admitted that he didn’t have enough information to figure out what was going wrong. So then, what I need is more information.

  “That’s it!” he cried out loud. “I need to do some research!” He looked around to make sure no one was there to see him talking to himself. That’s what living alone with only a cat for company will do to you.

  Happy with his momentary resolution and being relaxed from his hour of meditation, he switched the light off and headed to bed.

  Sam slept soundly except for a couple of dreams in which he relived watching the scientific lecture so many years ago, the one given by that unkempt man. It was the one that started him thinking about vibrational energy and how ancient civilizations may have used it. As each of the dreams tapered off and he fell back into blissful sleep, he told himself he would look into things when he got up in the morning.

  For the next several weeks, Sam rarely went anywhere except work. He spent most of his time trying to unravel the mystery of the “other place.” It seemed logical to start with internet searches but he found sparse information from keyword phrases such as “ancient civilizations” and “vibrational energy.” Most of the information either referred to the use of musical instruments or vibrational healing. While the several dozen articles, blogs, and posts he read were interesting, it was not what he was looking for. When he tried different variations of related words, the search seemed to spit out the same web sites, just in a different order.

  Finally, using the keywords “vibration,” “ancient people,” and “levitation,” several sites came up on the search list, all with the same name: Dr. Walter Wicket. Searching for the doctor’s name, he came across some photographs of him. It was the same man who gave the lecture all those years ago! Smacking his forehead, he begrudged his faulty thinking. He should have started out searching for the man himself rather than the subject.

  Interestingly, though there was a fair amount of information on Dr. Wicket, many of the sites also linked a newspaper article indicating that he had suddenly disappeared a little over ten years ago. Foul play was investigated, but no traces of the scientist or of any struggle were ever found.

  While reading references to some scientific journals, Sam finally hit the jackpot. Dr. Wicket had published a book! It was called “The Use of Harmonics and Vibration in Early Civilizations.” Though now out of print, a quick search on electronic auction sites turned up a few used copies for sale. Purchasing one, along with expedited shipping, Sam settled back into a normal routine for the eight days it took the book to arrive.

  Sam anxiously tore the packaging to obtain his treasure. He clutched the book tightly and went to his favorite chair before opening the cover. It was Saturday morning, so Sam had all weekend to read. He began immediately.

  The book was over 500 pages and contrary to the excitement Dr. Wicket showed in his lecture, the information was very dry. The book, in fact, read just like a textbook. Perhaps it was meant to be a textbook, Sam thought, but based on the information he had gathered and on the low printing volumes of the book, he didn’t believe it was probably ever used as such.

  Though it was technical, Sam was able to follow enough of the information to get an understanding of the topic. He marveled at the level of research, coherence, and the practical, reasonable assumptions presented. It was simply fascinating. Dr. Wicket held PhDs in physics and archaeology and he seamlessly integrated those fields in his research. As Sam pondered what he was reading, he realized that it was perhaps the most important thing he had ever read.

  In the period of time he spent waiting for the book to arrive, Sam had found some old videos of Dr. Wicket’s lectures on the internet. As he read, he replayed the videos in his mind.

  “Everything in the universe is dependent on vibration. Whereas the general population is familiar with the classical atomic structure, with the nucleus containing protons and neutrons and with the electrons whizzing around the nucleus like a planet orbiting the sun, contemporary atomic theory is more complex,” Dr. Wicket explained in one of the videos.

  “In fact, electrons are not necessarily particles, but at times are what we refer to as a “standing wave.” They do not orbit like planets around the sun. The electrons are sometimes pure energy, pure vibration, while at other times they act like a particle, like matter. In essence, vibrational energy is the core of all things.”

  The doctor, as shaggy and stooped as Sam remembered him, knocked firmly on the laboratory tabletop. “All things, being made of atoms, are always vibrating at certain stable frequencies. Though they seem solid, they are actually made of billions of very tiny pieces that are shaking and moving, vibrating, at all times.”

  “‘So what?’ you may ask. Well, this is important for many reasons. One effect of this phenomenon is that being energetic, all things can be used as a source of energy. Though that desktop looks solid, when exposed to conditions that would cause it to burn, it releases its energy as heat and light. So, too, all the inherent energy in other things can be released or manipulated. And that’s not even addressing such things as nuclear power.”

  Looking at the audience, making eye contact with one person and then another, finally resting his gaze on the camera itself, Dr. Wicket continued, “Some of the ancients could manipulate the vibration of items, actually causing parts of them to phase out of existence, making the object lighter and easier to move. Once it was where they wanted it to be, the ancient vibrational energy masters would simply manipulate its vibration, restoring the object to its original form and weight.

  “For all we know, there could be whole dimensions occupying the same space as our current one, but vibrating at a different rate. If that was the case, causing something—or someone?—to vibrate at the correct frequency could move it from our dimension to another one. In effect, the object, or part of it, would travel to the other dimension, the other world.”

  Sam’s mind was reeling. Maybe that was what he had done. Maybe he had actually gone to another dimension, one that was similar to his own, but different, too. If that was true, the implications were staggering. A whole different world? How amazing would that be? If Dr. Wicket was correct, there were an awful lot of scientists who would need to apologize to him.

  Reading carefully, caught up on what he was learning, Sam hardly moved for 30 hours. He only got up every few hours to snack, use the bathroom, and stretch his legs. When he was done, he had read the textbook from cover to cover and felt like things were finally making sense. He couldn’t wait to experiment a bit more. After a well-deserved rest, he reminded himself. He went straight to bed and slept for a solid twelve hours.

  Over the weeks following his reading, Sam took every opportunity he could to experiment with his original procedure. He modified little things, just one thing each time. He kept a log of what he did, and carried out his actions as a formal scientific experiment. By the end of the month, he still had not been able to duplicate his original journey. He began to despair, thinking that maybe he would never do so.

  Chapter 3

  It was finally Friday. The early spring weather was cool and Sam was so tired from his experimentation over the last several weeks, he felt ready to drop. It was almost midnight and he was finished with work for the week. Instead of engaging in his habit of meditating before he went to bed to relax himself for sleep, he took a shower and fell into bed.

  Sam woke suddenly from a deep sleep. He had been dreaming he was driving a race car and he had hit the wall, creating a crash as loud as an explosion. The jolt felt like he had actually hit that wall, not just dreamed it. His head swiveled back and forth
, looking for the source of the sound, blinking his eyes rapidly trying to focus. When lightning flashed outside his window, he realized that it was a thunderstorm and sank into his bed, relieved. Until the next peal of thunder shook his body and made him jump because of its suddenness.

  He had been so tired, he didn’t even remember lying down. Rubbing his eyes and trying still to focus them, he looked at his clock. Four-thirty AM. He lay there motionless for a moment, until he jumped again as the sky lit up outside his window and the house shook from the thunder that followed almost immediately.

  He lifted the blinds on the window and saw sheets of water falling in the dim light of the nearby streetlight. When lightning flashed and thunder roared again, he couldn’t help but to jump a little and shiver. He could feel the vibration of the thunder down to his bones

  Vibration? I wonder. Could this be what I have been waiting for? Dressing quickly, he grabbed his water bottle and sipped it to wet his too-dry throat while walking, used the toilet, and headed to his meditation room.

  In the hall, his cat Stoker meowed at him and looked at him quizzically.

  “Hey, buddy. Is the thunder scaring you?”

  The cat stared at him for a moment, narrowed his eyes until they were almost closed, and then headed for the back door. Once there, he meowed again, modulating his sound so that it sounded like a question.

  “You want to go out? Now? There’s water falling from the sky, you know. You’re not going to like it out there.”

  Looking at Sam, Stoker narrowed his eyes and slowly blinked at him again, repeating his questioning meow. He put one paw on the door—claws still in thankfully—and pushed impotently.

  “Ok, but don’t blame me if you get soaking wet. Crazy cat.” He opened the door and the cat, after pausing to decide if his desire to go out was really appropriate, charged out into the yard. Being a cat, in a neighborhood where there were several other cats, the old tom would sometimes disappear for days at a time. Sam thought that maybe he spent time in other people’s houses, eating the other cats’ food. He was independent that way. He may end up wet, but he’d be fine.

  Sam pushed his feline friend from his mind and went to the meditation room. He closed the door, absently rubbed the head of the little statue, and settled himself on the rug.

  He settled into the loose cross-legged position he could hold for hours and began methodically relaxing his body, one part at a time, in preparation for quieting his mind. His rhythmic breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, relaxed him as he tried to clear his mind of all thought. After a few moments, even the spontaneous peals of thunder did not affect him. He felt like he was in a shell, buffered from the sound.

  Within moments, the familiar light-headed feeling was there, the pitch black background present in Sam’s mind. As he peered deeper into the blackness, he felt the energy of the thunderstorm surrounding him. Though he was still buffered from the sound, he felt a spike in the energy just before the dull sound of the thunder registered each time. He wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he thought he may actually have been feeling the unbridled power of the lightning itself.

  He delved more deeply into the blackness and cleared his mind even further, until an image gradually resolved in the blackness. It was hard to describe. Red, violet, yellow, and, intermittently, green spirals of light danced in the darkness. To him, they looked like the pictures and videos he’d seen of the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. Mesmerized, he stared at them within his mind for several moments.

  All at once, he picked out patterns in the lights, as if everything had snapped into focus. He could see the lights coruscating around each other, forming an intricate dance that was both beautiful and frightening. The lights appeared to be swirling around something he could not see, as if he was in the middle of a colorful sandstorm and just beyond sight, the sand was pelting a structure or some other object.

  Sam mentally focused on the absence of light and a hole in the colors became clear. The space resembled a tunnel. The implications swirled in Sam’s mind, much like the colors were swirling in, well, his mind. A tunnel within colors made up from vibrations that originated externally, all in his mind’s eye. He wondered what it was and what it could mean.

  A thought came into Sam’s mind suddenly and he decided to try something. In his mind, he strained to focus more precisely and then consciously flipped the colors to their negatives, like the old negatives from film photographs. The colors, muted and faded, now were swirling around a tunnel that looked like one of the huge concrete pipes Sam had seen the city install along the highway. At the end of the short tunnel, there was a dim light, reminding him of the way dawn looks on a cloudy morning.

  He concentrated on his internal vibrations, trying to match how the tunnel felt to him, changing his own vibrations as he did when he traveled to the other place the first time. He felt a oneness with the tunnel. As he became more and more in synch with it, he felt his body relax further. With a final sharp breath taken by his physical body, he mentally dove into the tunnel.

  Once, Sam had ridden on a ride at an amusement park that made him feel the same way he was feeling now. The ride was simple: the riders would stand with their backs against a wall and, as the circular room spun faster and faster, the floor would drop down several feet. Because of centrifugal force, each person would be pinned to the wall. One time, just to see what would happen, Sam had put both hands behind his head and lifted it away from the wall. With his eyes closed, Sam pulled his head out and faced the floor. When he opened his eyes, the world spun crazily and Sam was barely able to keep from vomiting all over the other kids on the ride. That was how he felt now.

  Entering the tunnel, it seemed as if the entire universe spun, sending him cartwheeling head over heels until he had no idea which way was up and which was down. The feeling seemed to last for several minutes, though it was probably only seconds.

  When everything settled into place, Sam was sitting in his meditation room, just as he was when he started. He paused, with his eyes still closed, breathing and trying to allow his stomach to settle. When he felt he could, he opened his eyes. Everything looked just as it should, yet it felt different somehow. Things were just slightly off. He couldn’t explain the difference. He recognized it as the feeling he had before, when he went to the other world. Sam jumped to his feet and ran to the front door.

  When he opened the door, his eyes widened and a smile crept slowly across his face. There, staring back at him, was the same dense forest as before, deep green and beautiful in the morning light. The little clearing was just as he remembered, as were the tips of the mountains poking up above the trees. Diffuse sunlight filtered through the wisps of mist that floated just above the ground.

  He had done it! He actually came back to this other world, this other dimension. Standing there, looking at the trees with a self-satisfied grin on his face, he congratulated himself on a job well done.

  Chapter 4

  Sam looked around at his surroundings for several minutes, eyes aflame with interest and the smile still painted on his face. Then, with a deep sigh, he experienced what many do when their goals have been achieved: a realization that he didn’t know what to do next.

  His expression faltered and then changed to a more neutral one. His lips compressed and his brows drew down slightly. He was at a loss about what to do.

  An idea struck him and he raced back into his house, returning scant moments later carrying his camera. Soon, the click of the shutter filled the quiet forest air as he took dozens of pictures of his house with the thick forest in the background. This time, he would have proof of his journey.

  When he had taken all the pictures he needed, and then some, he sat on his front porch, trying to figure out what he would do. Maybe exploring the area would be good. He wondered if there were wild animals around. Or people. Were there people in this world at all? All he’d seen on his first visit was the creature he met, the one he named Skitter. Would he s
ee Skitter again?

  He sat with his back leaning on the on the wall of his house, contemplating what he would do. A logical, scientific approach would be best. He had to be careful and methodical. When dealing with unknowns, as he was here, one must proceed with caution. He decided it would be best to practice going to and from this world so he could do it any time he wanted. If he practiced enough, he may be able to do it quickly enough to escape danger if he ran into it.

  Forty minutes later, after trying repeatedly to return home, he developed a tight feeling in his stomach, thinking maybe he had made a big mistake. It had taken him almost two months to get back to this world after his first visit. What if it took him longer to get back home? What if he could never get back home? His heart raced and he began to feel overwhelmed.

  What he needed was some cold water on his face and to relax so he didn’t panic. He went to the bathroom sink and turned on the faucet. Nothing. Of course. The water pipes aren’t connected to anything here. Trying the light switch, knowing already what he’d find, he confirmed that, of course, the same was true for electricity. Any food he had in the refrigerator would soon go bad. If he took months to get back home, he would starve to death long before he was able to return.

  The butterflies in his stomach were working overtime. He shook his head to clear it and stepped outside for some fresh air. After taking two deep breaths, he sat down on the front porch. He needed to explore the surrounding area to see if there was a source of food or some sign of civilization. Perhaps there were people here who could help him.

  While mentally planning what he would do, he sensed something near. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was, but he was sure something was close to him, something alive and moving. His hand shook slightly, he noticed, as he waited and willed himself to be invisible. The palms of his hands felt clammy and his breathing came in quick, ragged breaths, much too loudly. There, ahead of him and to the right, there was rustling in the underbrush.