Edge of Revelation
Page 11
“I believe we have talked this one to death, Charlotte. If we don’t do this then someone else will and we might like those consequences a lot less,” said Professor Kitteridge.
“So if I am the one that is to invent the method and send the message, what happens when I get asked how I decided to do it?” Christopher asked.
“Well you say that you did it because that was your role in Professor Kitteridge’s team,” Charlotte answered.
“Not that so much that, as why did I do it that particular way?”
“Ah funnily enough, that question is easy as people generally understand that inspiration comes in mysterious ways. I recall Nostradamus saying he stood in a bucket of water for inspiration. Descartes preferred strong heat from an open fire and Einstein got his ideas from reading favourite science fiction authors. In other words totally unsatisfactory answers about how to gain insights into monumental discoveries. You could just say you dreamt up the ideas after Professor Kitteridge asked you to look into it, Chris, that will do it,” Charlotte said.
“The trickier part will be handling the bad feeling when the people who don’t want to make contact with other worlds start blaming us,” Professor Kitteridge added. “There will be many fearful people, with good reason, plus the usual wave of Luddites wanting to take us back to their view of the safety of a pre-technological society. Then all the vested interests that will want to control the process, or fear for the economic welfare of their businesses.
“Once again most people on Earth will benefit dramatically. The people that control resources, who seem important now, will still be rich, just not as overwhelmingly as they used to be. And the main reason still stands; if we don’t do it then Spargar will annex this planet very soon and any chance of freedom for the people of Earth will vanish and everybody will be vassals of the Spargar Empire.”
Professor Kitteridge seemed reassured and moved on to the more familiar territory of guiding his students in their work. “So our idea hinges on sending a targeted message to areas of the galaxy that we believe would have a good chance of harbouring alien life, rather than passively listening like we have been doing up to now with organisations like SETI. We have been broadcasting accidentally through space since Marconi invented radio, and listening for broadcast messages coming back. The problem with broadcasting is the slow speed and it does not seem to be getting us anywhere. Our earliest radio messages are reaching 200 light years or so out there into space. That sounds a lot but it’s a mere speck compared to the breadth of just our own galaxy. So we postulate that alien races, if they are out there, are using a much faster mechanism to communicate between the stars, and all we have to do is send out a message in a bottle they would be likely to pick up. Once they collect the message then they can respond to us by replying or, better still, visiting.
“Two more parts to the plan for you to implement,” the Professor continued after a slurp of his tea. “Firstly we send to places that are already of interest in the night sky. The Hyades and the Pleiades are interesting as star clusters relatively close by that could support many planets with life. One problem is that only the Hyades are near enough to have heard our earliest radio signals already and that helps your enemies, Spargar, of course. But the Pleiades has a special place in alien mythology so we could be expected to send our message there as well. Ancient cultures claimed they met ‘Star People’ from the Seven Sisters, presumably old friends of yours, Charlotte? Secondly, the nature of the message is crucial. Charlotte can compose the actual message that can be picked up and processed by Gayan systems rather than Spargar ones. Christopher can add a number of other spurious messages to camouflage the real one aimed at Gaya. Then we send the message out and wait for your friends to reply.” Professor Kitteridge looked enquiringly to Charlotte.
“That would work efficiently, Professor,” Charlotte replied. “We can use the Cosmology Department’s equipment to get the messages to the edge of dark matter on the edge of the solar system where we can pick them up, send them through warp messaging to Gaya and shortly after make a formal reply.”
“What would that reply look like?” asked Professor Kitteridge.
“That would be for the Worders on Gaya responsible for our work on Earth to decide. They have done it many times before and they have specific ceremonies that they use. Typically it would be as low-key and non-threatening as it could be in the first instance. The Worders are sensitive to the opposing emotions of the people when they arrive for the first time but of course it will be the single most important event in human history on Earth so you can’t underestimate the impact it is going to have. We are really going to need your help with that side of things, Professor. It’s important that we keep you fit to lead us with the politicians, media and the establishment. Daniel will help out with our medicines and a little faith healing would also do you good.”
Professor Kitteridge was taken aback at that thought. “Do you really think so, my dear? Surely Daniel’s potions will do the trick?”
“No harm in tending to the mind and the body, Professor. We know of a really good healer locally we would like you to see.”
“If you really think it’s a good idea, then I am open to it I suppose,” Professor Kitteridge replied.
*
At 11.15 the following morning there was a knock on Professor Kitteridge’s front door and Anya, Professor Kitteridge’s lead carer, opened it to a tiny silver-haired woman who was bright as a button. She was of indeterminate old age but unbent and with the brightest blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She smiled.“Hello, I am Alice Critchly, a close friend of Doctor McGregor. Sorry I’m late but I got lost at the turning at the end of the street.”
Anya introduced Alice to Professor Kitteridge sitting by the comforting glow of the log fire. He was amused at the thought of a clairvoyant and faith healer who got lost on the way to an appointment. Alice was an effusive woman full of energy but not overbearing in any way. She accepted the offer of a cup of tea and explained there was quite a bit of work to do in her field. Apparently there were small groups of people like her in all the towns in England and they also communicated with similar groups in other countries. They had a strong religious faith, which enabled them to help others with health or spiritual difficulties that could not be fixed by more established treatments. Remarkably, they did not do this for money and only ever took expenses if there were travelling costs. This was a surprise to Professor Kitteridge who had always suspected spiritualists were involved in some kind of fraud, but the lack of a request for money made that a difficult proposition.
Shortly they were seated in the couches and armchairs around the fireplace where a cosy log fire was burning. Alice’s attention was distracted as if she was paying attention to some invisible voice. “So this is where it all happened,” Alice said after some sips of her tea. “You do seem to have some spirits here in the house. Servants, I would say, I would think two or three, who haven’t passed on properly yet. Very interesting”. It could not have been too interesting as Alice decided to take another tack. “I think we could help you with your health problems.” They both already knew that was the reason for her visit but this was the first time that Alice had witnessed Professor Kitteridge’s sickly aura at first hand.
“That is good to hear, but how do you know that?” replied Professor Kitteridge, leaning forward attentively.
“Doctor McGregor told me. He is sitting over there and helping me at the moment. I think I preferred him when he was alive; this new version of him is a bit full of himself.”
Professor Kitteridge felt distinctly ill at ease that this little old lady seemed aware of his old friend’s presence in his own house when he had no sense of it himself. He was further disturbed that his plan to test this faith healer by not volunteering any information which she could cleverly use to fool him was being made redundant by the plain fact that Alice was making all the statements and not asking him for any inf
ormation at all. Strange things going on in his life was becoming the norm, however, and it was a bright sunny morning after all so, apart from the matter under discussion, everything about the world was rosy. He asked Alice to pass his best regards to his old friend and she turned her head to the empty leather armchair in clear appraisal of who or whatever was occupying it.
Alice changed tack again, “Professor Kitteridge, I see a river running through your life. Does this mean anything to you?”
“Well, I work in Cambridge, but cannot spend time on the river in my condition.”
“Have you ever lived on a river or in a boat?”
“No, never lived or worked on a river.” Alice seemed surprised at the answer, and Professor Kitteridge was surprised also as the reference to the river did make sense in a metaphorical sense, though it was clear that Alice was only thinking of a river in a physical way. “Why are you asking?”
Alice’s mood changed yet again and she sprang up out of the chair. “So let’s have a look at these spirits of yours. Perhaps I can look around the house?” Alice walked across the carpet as if to the chair where the spirit of Doctor McGregor was supposedly sitting. She passed a point where the room widened and seemed to collide with an invisible object. “Oh, I am walking through brick!” she stated. Professor Kitteridge smiled and explained that was where the old wall used to be before the building work. It was fairly obvious if you knew anything about extending buildings. Alice took two more steps across the lounge and her progress was halted abruptly a second time. “And now I am walking through wood!” Professor Kitteridge was bemused now and said he did not know anything about that – there was no wood on the wall he could recall when the building work was going on.
Alice walked out of the room with Anya to take a look around. At one point she pointed at a carpet in a bathroom. “There’s a patch of damp under there you need to get sorted out.” Professor Kitteridge later asked Anya to check and was unsurprised to find there was indeed a damp area hidden beneath. He had no doubts now that however Alice knew the things she was talking about they were not coming consciously or otherwise from Anya or himself.
At the end of her tour of the house, Alice confirmed there were at least three spirits in the house as well as Doctor McGregor but they were not malign and would pass on in time. It was unwise to exorcise these spirits, although that could be done, as it was most harmful to the spirits.
Alice returned with Anya and stood before Professor Kitteridge. “I would like to try to help you with some healing now, Professor, but we would need privacy for it to have a chance of working.”
“Would you mind leaving us, my dear?” Professor Kitteridge turned to Anya.
“Yes no problems, Professor, I have plenty to be getting along with in the kitchen,” Anya said and left the room.
“I will stand behind you and place my hands on your head so I can do the healing.” She placed her hands over Professor Kitteridge’s ears from above, the thumbs to the front. Her hands were warm and dry on his head. A minute later the Professor started to grin self-consciously at the strangeness of the situation and was soundly told off by Alice. “You have to take this seriously, you know, or it just won’t work!”
Professor Kitteridge relaxed after that and seemingly drifted thoughtlessly for a while. The spirit of Doctor McGregor joined with Alice and passed through the physical contact of Alice’s fingertips to penetrate the Professor’s consciousness as never before. Professor Kitteridge felt the power of his old friend’s presence, the comfort and companionship returning as it used to be when Doctor McGregor was alive and helping him formulate his research as no other colleague had ever managed before or since. Professor Kitteridge could feel his old friend’s spirit reaching out to him, trying to communicate. Professor Kitteridge felt his mind was in a different mode, open in a way totally different to his scientific training, receiving the mood of his old friend if not the words. He was excited that he was on the verge of a discovery that could be the start of a completely new dimension of his existence. His mind came to bear on reaching to Doctor McGregor and in so doing his conscious mind overwhelmed his spirit. Doctor McGregor’s presence faded away. He felt a pang of loss like a drowning friend slipping deep into dark water as their despairing fingers slipped apart and the presence fell into the murk. Professor Kitteridge slumped mentally at the loss, the only light of hope being that he had come close to crossing some kind of a Rubicon. He would retain this thought and pursue it purposefully should he get another opportunity.
Alice felt the connection of the two academic gentlemen, one there in spirit the other with her in person, but in great distress. She saw them closing, Doctor McGregor’s power surrounding Professor Kitteridge’s naive efforts, helping his struggles to make progress and then the despair as something closed in Professor Kitteridge’s mind and the bond was broken. Alice continued her ministrations beyond the disappointment of the moment, mending Professor Kitteridge’s aura as best she could. When she had finished she declared, “Well, I think I have done all I can here, so it’s time I was getting along, Professor.”
Professor Kitteridge was suddenly nervous thinking this was ending abruptly and that Alice was perhaps seeing something bad she did not want to share with him. “So how does everything look, Alice? Is it working?” he asked.
“It is hard to know just now, Professor. It can’t do any harm and we need to let it have some time to work. Let me know how it goes from here and if you have any problems, but I think it will be better now.”
Alice left Professor Kitteridge’s house and reclaimed her old bicycle left chained to wrought-iron railings outside. Many layers of generously applied black paint had rounded the sharp edges of the railings from where she unlocked the pad and wrapped its chain back around the cycle frame. Doctor McGregor’s spirit was about her head like a pesky fly and she swatted him mentally, not wishing to be seen talking to him out in the street like a crazy old lady.
Alice rode away towards home in perfect command of her bicycle. Over sixty years of cycling made her an expert. Doctor McGregor’s spirit let her go and watched her disappear before turning back to remain in Professor Kitteridge’s house.
*
The following day Professor Kitteridge called Cambridge Council about the history of his house to follow up on the information Alice had given to him. He asked the lady at the planning department if there were any records on the Lodge that he could take a look at.
; “I have a small section of local interest in the corner here,” she replied. “I have some old newspapers and magazines with articles on the village going back over a hundred years I can scan and send on to you.”
Professor Kitteridge waited a few moments for the email from her to arrive with its attachments of the historical articles. There was quite a thriving community in the town in the late 1800s, with a population as large as the academic community living there today. It seemed that many of the menfolk had died in the Great War. Professor Kitteridge had seen the names on the war memorial locally many times but somehow reading about them in these magazine articles brought them to life. He could see the tragedy that befell these kind of communities when the technology of warfare advanced beyond the tactics used in earlier wars, as had happened in World War I.
Professor Kitteridge turned the pages of a newer magazine and inside the cover was a sepia picture of the Lodge from the year 1865. There was a toddler and young girl walking by the wall and hedge next to the road. They both were wearing striped pinafores and large bonnets which shaded their faces. The house seemed much the same except the recent extensions were missing. He could see the lift and pulley arrangement hanging from a short gantry at the apex of the roof, which had been used to haul hay bales into the roof space in the time of horse-drawn transport. This mechanism had been removed to extend the roof of the new lounge. Then he was struck by the fact that there was a wooden shed leaning against the house at that point where the rope from the pulley came to the ground.
Professor Kitteridge recalled Alice walking to the place in the new lounge where the shed wall used to be and seeming to collide with something, and then the comment <“I am walking through wood.”> Professor Kitteridge was not surprised by this confirmation of Alice’s abilities but it added to the body of evidence suggesting that if she were right about all the things he could check, she was probably right about everything, including the soul presence of his old friend McGregor.