Black Wave

by Devon Glenn

  “Good morning, Emily,” Elerick said nervously. “Joan, Burt.”

  Joan and Burt were preoccupied with their tablet and didn’t respond. “We don’t say good morning here,” Emily explained. “We grunt until coffee comes.”

  Joan patted the chair next to hers. “Emily, have a seat. We need you to help us expand our social media presence.”

  “We’re high tech now!” Burt exclaimed. “Black Wave 2.0!”

  Emily laughed. “Do you even know what that means, Dad?”

  “I certainly do.” Burt lifted his tablet and set it upright on the table, propped with a kickstand so that the screen faced the two of them. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Elerick’s aunt told us about this app called Orbies,” Joan said. As he spoke, he pulled up Emily’s profile. “I went on it, and I saw that you were already there! How many people have started following you since you joined, Emily?”

  Emily stared blankly at the screen. She would need coffee for this.

  Burt’s eyes twinkled. “Why do people follow each other if they’re dead?” he asked. “Shouldn’t they ‘haunt’ each other instead of ‘following’ each other?”

  Elerick smiled, but he looked back at Emily, waiting for her answer.

  “At first, it was just Elerick and a girl from school,” Emily said. “But after I registered as a medium, I started getting a lot of notices. More than I could keep up with.”

  Elerick squinted at her profile. “Oh no. They made you a featured member,” he said. “You’re literally the first person new members see when they join.” He moved his hand to the keypad and hit the Back button. “That’s your avatar right there on the homepage.”

  Emily cringed at her picture. “I wish someone had told me that was happening before I uploaded a picture of myself wearing sweatpants.”

  “You can switch that picture out any time,” Elerick said, “but I’d shut down my account if I were you.”

  “So that’s why I’m getting all those messages?”

  “That’s right. Every time you ID an orb, it’s signal-boosted to the rest of the community. I would imagine that you’ve been getting requests to verify orbs, and people probably want you to talk to the ghosts, too. Am I right?”

  “My friend Melody asked me to channel her grandma,” Emily replied. Though she doubted that the makeshift Ouija board she used to channel Melody’s grandmother was anything worth signal boosting. “I helped some guy take a selfie with a spirit from the brothel last night.” He could have shared that with others. “And other people have been sending me videos.”

  “I know,” Elerick said. “I remember.”

  Burt turned to Elerick. “Do you think Emily could use this app to conduct séances? I just watched this demonstration video about how to IM with an Orb account.”

  “Can ghosts type, Emily?” Joan asked. “Is this a real thing?”

  “They can’t type on a regular keyboard,” Emily said, “but they can use a touchscreen in the same way that they can manipulate radio stations and light bulbs. I used my touchscreen keypad as a Ouija board when I was talking to Melody and her grandmother. If you have two or more people touching the screen at the same time, it’s as good as having a planchette.”

  Burt pulled up the demonstration video and pressed Play.

  “Hi. I’m Alex. I’m the chief orb at Orbies,” the narrator said as a cartoon orb bobbed across the screen. “When we first envisioned Orbies, we thought about creating an online version of a Ouija board.”

  A man sat in a chair in front of his computer and typed, “Am I an inspiring man?”

  “D-O-U-B-T-F-U-L” was the response.

  Emily and Burt laughed.

  Alex continued: “It uses an algorithm to populate the answers at random. If you play with this tool for long periods of time, like I have, you’ll notice that there are only so many answers in its data set. That’s not satisfying for the users if they want more than one-word answers to their questions. And it’s sure frustrating for us orbs.

  “I wanted people to be able to speak more naturally with people on the Other Side. I wanted them to sound more like the people you used to know. Now they can—and they’ll be just the way you remember them.”

  “That’s because they stalk their users,” Elerick explained. “They use the memorial pages to collect people’s comments and photo captions. Then they scan through all that text to pick up phrases to use in response to instant messages. I was one of the guinea pigs in customer service who had to use their predictive text.”

  “So,” Burt said, “your own words will come back to haunt you?”

  “Basically.”

  Onscreen, Alex the Orb was bobbing over to a user’s profile. The user’s name was Steve. “Go ahead, Steve. Ask me anything.”

  Steve: What would you do if you could come back to life for one day?

  Alex: I’d tee-pee your house and blame it on Andrew.

  There was a moment of silence while Elerick, Emily, Burt, and Joan skimmed the page to see where that answer had come from.

  “Ah, here it is.” Elerick paused the video to show a picture of a blue house with white trim on the windows.

  Squinting, Emily realized that the white trim was actually toilet paper streaming from the roof. There was also toilet paper draped over the branches of a large tree on the lawn. There was a person tagged as Steve standing on the lawn with his hand resting on the trunk of the tree. It was Andrew who had posted the photo. Alex read the caption aloud. “Alex thought it was me this whole time. But it was you, buddy. RIP.”

  Emily looked at Elerick. “How did the app know about the house and the toilet paper?”

  “Orbies used geolocation to tag the house and image recognition software to identify Steve—it’s a stock photo, by the way. ‘Steve’ was a fake user they created to run tests. I’m not sure how the app knew about the toilet paper, though—that might have come from a private conversation between some of ‘Steve’s’ followers. Which would mean they’re reading private conversations now, too. It’s creepy.”

  “It’s a ghost app. Isn’t it supposed to be creepy?” Burt chuckled.

  “Pictures would be a lot faster than using words,” Emily pointed out. “I can interpret their meanings.”

  On cue an array of symbols flashed on the screen: a piece of peppermint candy, a Jet Ski, a bed of flowers, a bra, a boat, a pen, and others. “Some orbs prefer the emoji keyboard,” Alex said.

  “They’re perfect,” Emily said. She had goose bumps thinking about what she’d be able to do with her own arsenal of online tools. “How do I use this for séances?”

  “Let’s watch the part about the mediums.” Burt moved the bar forward a couple of minutes.

  “There are hundreds of self-proclaimed mediums,” Alex continued. “But we have preselected a handful of mediums for the community members to choose from based on their level of activity in the community and on their credibility.” Emily’s profile picture appeared for a third time, along with screenshots of positive Yelp reviews.

  “You’re the number one medium in Cape May, FYI,” said Burt.

  “Did anyone contact you about this, Emily?” Elerick asked. “They usually send you an email.”

  Emily blushed. “Not too long after I joined. I deleted it. I thought it was an ad. Although I did meet a ghost last night who told me to check my email. Maybe that’s why.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Elerick told her. “The company really does invade your privacy.”

  “Everyone invades our privacy,” Joan argued. “Try getting through one day without using your credit card or walking in front of a surveillance camera. You won’t last five minutes.”

  “Exactly,” Burt said. “This time, though, when Emily overshares her information, we get the benefits. Not the marketers, not the b
ankers—us. Look at all those people who came to the happy hour, bought drinks, and decided to stay the night!”

  “Who are you?” Emily asked. “What did you do to my real parents?”

  “You see, Emily, the world is always a terrible place,” Burt said. “But it’s not terrible for everyone at the same time.”

  “Listen to your father, for he is wise,” Joan agreed. “The hotel took some time to build, but we’re finally in the right place at the right time to benefit from the new technology. Let’s just enjoy it.”

  “Sadie!” Emily called to the lobby. “You might want to come in here and look at what we’re doing.”

  Sadie shuffled in with her pajama bottoms sagging over a pair of ratty slippers. She had had twice as much to drink as Emily, and she was now nursing a nasty hangover. “I’m tired,” she said with a yawn. “This had better be a really good cat video.”

  She stopped short when she saw Elerick and fell into a flurry of smoothing her hair, straightening her T-shirt, and shooting lasers at Emily with her eyes. It wasn’t unusual for Sadie to wander down for breakfast in her pajamas. She and Emily had lived in an inn for so long that they treated the guests like furniture.

  Fortunately, Elerick didn’t seem to be too concerned by Sadie’s sloppy pajama ensemble. He waved. “Hi, Sadie.”

  Emily reached to the empty table next to her and fetched a clean coffee mug for Sadie. “Did you know that Elerick used to work at Orbies?”

  “The app where random orbs from California try to make friends with you?” Sadie asked.

  “That’s another thing I wanted to explain,” Elerick said to Emily. “Do you remember the image recognition software I told you about just two seconds ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s what they use to identify the orbs.”

  Emily stared at the screen as Elerick pulled up a photo filled with orbs.

  “Each one of these, though very similar, has a unique pattern to it, like a snowflake. You might not know who the ghost is,” Elerick explained, “but you can see when the same ghost has appeared in more than one picture.”

  Emily thought about the ghosts who had appeared in her bedroom that morning. “How do you know that the tags are accurate?”

  “You don’t. That’s the problem. It’s up to the community to decide. There are all types of people on this site: they can be mediums, historians, or family members who make educated guesses, but they could also be scam artists, kidnappers, or murderers. You never know.” He clicked on one of the orbs in the photo.

  Beneath the orb, there were about fifteen commenters who had thrown out a name. “If enough people vote the name up, it sticks,” Elerick said. “And you can see from the vibe gauge”—he pointed on the screen to a sentiment bar that was half red and half green—“whether or not people believe that the ghost is friendly.”

  “What if they’re wrong?” Emily said.

  “Orbies doesn’t care. The orbs are dead. They can’t sue.”

  Emily gasped.

  Onscreen, Alex bobbed in front of a video camera. “When this app is working the way we want it to, you’ll be able to see us for yourselves—not just our orbs, but our faces.

  “Orbies now has an image enhancement tool that can make an orb look more like its human shape.”

  “Like a ghost filter?” Sadie asked.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Elerick said.

  Sadie clapped her hands. “Does it work with videos?”

  Burt fast-forwarded the video. “Our pattern recognition tool can find the orbs in your videos and tag them accordingly. And our orb filter turns them into specters, making them easier to see,” Alex said.

  “I uploaded an old video to Orbies,” Sadie said. “We could totally see ghost shapes. Right, Emily?”

  Emily nodded absently. Her attention had wandered to where a reflection from the lamp across the room had brightened against the wallpaper. The gold embossment shimmered until Emily was no longer looking at a wall, but the gown of her favorite dead movie star: Lorelei Lemke.

  With a single tear sliding down her cheek, she said breathlessly, “Will I be invited to audition?” Lorelei drifted closer to where Burt sat, peering into the screen. “I realize your cameras are different than mine were, but could you really film a spirit? Could you film me?”

  Emily looked at her sadly. “Who’s going to be able to see it?” she asked. “Our cameras won’t do you justice—all people will see are streaks of light. Can’t you make films where you are?”

  Lorelei shrugged. She wouldn’t answer the question. All she would say was, “I want to see how my films will hold up against the ones they’re making in Hollywood now.”

  Joan caught Emily staring at the wall and leaned close to her ear.

  “Who’s here, Emily?” Joan whispered. “Please remember there are guests present before you start talking to yourself.”

  “It’s Lorelei,” Emily replied, looking at Sadie. To Elerick, she said, “We talked to her last night at Happy Hour.”

  “Wow, you’re talking to Lorelei right now? She’s like, right here?” Sadie swiveled in her chair and looked around the room as if she could see orbs in the real world as well as on her screen.

  “She says she’s not a ghost; she’s a spirit,” Emily clarified. “But yes, she’s standing to my right, next to the wall.”

  “Does that make a difference in the video?” Joan said, pointing her phone camera at the wall in the blank space next to Emily.

  “Your specter changes when you cross over to the Other Side,” Emily said. “You can see it on your screen.”

  “Great. Let’s check it out.” Sitting down at the table, Joan slid the tablet toward her and clicked on the video that she had just uploaded to Orbies using her phone. “Look. Here she is.”

  Burt, Sadie, Emily, and Elerick crowded around the screen to see. A white light bobbed against the wallpaper. Burt clicked on a small box that appeared next to the light. He tagged the orb “Lorelei” and checked her in to the Black Wave Beach Hotel.

  “Let’s see this ghost filter in action,” Joan said. She played the video again. This time streaks of golden light formed the outline of a slender, elegant woman. Her head and hands moved as she spoke.

  Sadie gasped. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Go ahead and touch it,” Emily said to Lorelei. “You can use the app, too.”

  Lorelei’s eyes shone at the sight of her body lit up on the screen. “The definition could be better,” she told Emily. “But it’s me. I can see myself.” Her fingers reached toward the screen. “Can everyone see me?”

  CHAPTER 28

  Peppermint and

  a Jet Ski

  Elerick pulled a fresh set of sheets out of the linen closet and draped them over the massage table. He grabbed a handful of scented-oil bottles and arranged them in a semicircle around the table so his incoming clients could read the labels before they selected which one they’d like him to use. Elerick tried to steer clients away from the floral scents and toward something more neutral, like peppermint. No matter how hard he scrubbed his hands after they left, the aromatic oils clung to his clothes and skin and left him smelling too fresh for his own good. Peppermint was one of the few scents that could follow him home without making him feel like he had an old lady on his back.

  Elerick read the next name on his schedule and sighed. While that twisted orb Alex was brainwashing Emily into touching his dirty keypad, Elerick would be elbow deep in massage oil with Hannah the Towel Lady. He sighed again, remembering the comment she had made to Joan and Burt in the lobby on the night of his arrival.

  “Have you ever had a massage before?” Elerick asked when Hannah lumbered into the room. Her face was sunburned from who knows what at this time of year—probably sitting too close to the dryer, waiting for fresh towels.

  �
�I’ve come to Cape May every year for the last twenty years,” Hannah replied curtly. “And I like a good massage, but Burt and Joan didn’t offer that in their old Victorian. Now that they’ve moved into this fancy new hotel with a day spa, I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “How do you like the hotel so far?”

  “We’ll see” is all Hannah would say.

  Handing her a clean towel, Elerick left Hannah alone to disrobe and lie on the table. “I’ll be back with some hot stones,” he said. “Take as long as you need.”

  He returned to the massage room to find Hannah soaking wet, her once-dry towel clinging to her skin and dripping water on either side of the table. “What happened here?” he asked.

  “I was about to ask the same thing,” she huffed. “I was just lying here, waiting for you, and suddenly I was drenched. How about getting me a fresh towel?”

  Elerick handed her a dry towel and ducked out of the room so Hannah could dry off. It was a good thing, because he had forgotten the hot stones.

  “I’m not sure what happened,” he said, stepping back into the room.

  “Oh, I know what happened,” Hannah said. “There are never enough dry towels in this place. They always sass me at the front desk when I ask for new ones, but you saw what just happened here. It’s like staying in a goddamned waterpark.”

  Elerick leaned in hard on her back with his hands, partially to spread a little oil on her skin to stop her from shivering, but mostly to push the breath out of her just long enough to stop her from talking.

  Hannah whined, grunting in pain. “You gotta go easy on me, kid.”

  Elerick said nothing. He couldn’t blame her for being so sour. He could read the past in her back the way a fortuneteller could read the future in a palm. Bad feelings were prisoners in a person’s body for as long as the mind refused to release them. As he gently explored Hannah’s back to find the weak muscles, the tight muscles, the sore muscles, and the strong muscles that were working too hard to support the others, he could sense what was really curving her spine: loneliness. There was guilt there, too. He had the sudden mental picture of Hannah on a Jet Ski, bouncing too hard on jagged waves with white caps.