By Douglas E. Gogerty
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Ben asked me.
"My name is Robert Adams, I am a veterinarian," I replied.
"And that gives you the right to come into my house?"
"Ummm -- no I guess not. It was just -- er -- uh..."
"Go on, spit it out!"
"Your niece was worried, and she sent me up here to check in -- on -- your animals."
"She was worried about my animals more than me?"
"She did mention that you had been acting strangely."
"And she sent a veterinarian to check up on me?"
"I think she wanted some sort of medical person to check on you. It wouldn't be my first time diagnosing humans, and to be honest, you are wearing a tinfoil hat."
"Actually, it is aluminum foil -- what of it?"
"You know that there have been studies that have determined that such hats may act as an amplifier rather than a shield."
"Naturally, that is why I am wearing it."
"If it were actually tinfoil, it would block the signal."
"Are you telling me that it was a government cover-up to switch from tin foil to aluminum foil?"
"Are you crazy? Aluminum is much more common than tin, it does not impart a taste upon the food it wraps, and it is highly recyclable. It makes complete sense to use aluminum over tin."
"I am glad to hear you say that, and Alcoa probably is too."
"So, how are my animals?" Ben asked to change the subject.
"They appear fine. Although, I am concerned about the feral cats in your barn."
"You are a vet aren't you?"
"Of course, you didn't think..."
"I didn't know what to think -- probably -- like you when you saw me sitting here."
"Do you want to explain?"
"It is kind of a long story."
"I had a good meal at your niece's place, and I was just about to head home. However, I've got time."
"Would you like some coffee?"
"We can take this into the kitchen," Ben said as he took off his hat.
I followed Ben into the kitchen where Ben poured us each a cup of coffee. I followed his lead and sat at the kitchen table. We both sat silent for an instant as Ben thought about where to begin.
"You're probably wondering about the hat and the plates," Ben eventually said after taking a sip of coffee.
"You could say that," I replied.
"I don't know how to begin without sounding crazy."
"That is a conundrum."
"Okay, so about three months ago, I went into the parlor there to get something. Out of nowhere, I hear this voice. It wasn't exactly a voice, but it sounded like a cry or a call. Like anyone, I just thought it was the wind or my mind playing tricks on me. I thought it was nothing, and I went on with what I was doing."
Ben took another sip of coffee, thought for a moment, and then continued.
"I did not hear the voice again, until I returned to the parlor. In fact, I became frightened of even entering the parlor for the thought of hearing the voice. I went for days avoiding the parlor, and I never heard any voices outside of the parlor.
"I searched the outside of the room for cracks and whatnot. I wanted to eliminate the wind at first. I caulked all of the cracks, and I even used a bug bomb. Thus, that would eliminate animals and insects playing tricks on me.
"As you may have guessed, the voice was not very distinct. I could not make out any words, but there was some sort of voice. I assumed it was trying to communicate with me."
"Did you think the room was haunted?" I asked.
"I never believed in ghosts, but this started to make me a believer. Thus, I went onto the internet for advice on 'exorcising' my poltergeist. In an effort to give the spirit rest, I started spending more time in the room; however, it had the opposite effect. The more time I spent in the room, the clearer the voice became. What started out to be sort of a 'hey' became more complicated. Also, the voice became more persistent and more frequent. Thus, it eventually became less of a disembodied sound and more of an actual voice."
"You do realize that all of this was happening in your head don't you?" I remarked.
"Yes. There was no physical person there, so I knew it was occurring all in my head. However, I wondered what it was and why it was only happening in the parlor. My curiosity was peeked, and therefore, I spent even more time in the parlor. What was at first a fear of the room became somewhat of an obsession."
"This is when you family first noticed you not leaving the house," I added.
"Unfortunately, that was a side-effect. I had to know what it wanted to say -- or do. Thus, I spent as much time as I could in the room. I ate in there and slept. I wanted to know what the voice had to say."
"What was that like?" I asked with great curiosity.
"It was like trying to tune in a station on a very touchy radio. Whatever it was would occasionally hit something, but would zoom right past. It was a very painstaking process and sometimes very frustrating. Primarily this was because I was not in control. Whoever had the remote would zoom right past whatever showed promise."
"So, do you think it was some sort of radio communication you were picking up?" I inquired.
"That is more of an analogy than actuality," replied Ben after taking another sip of coffee. "Our brains are complicated, and our brains give off varying brain-waves for lack of a better term. Thus, if someone was attempting to communicate with us via telepathy, they would have to tune into a particular brain pattern."
"Telepathy!" I exclaimed.
"It was the only conclusion I could make. Someone -- or something -- was studying my brain to communicate with me via telepathy. All I could do is go through a normal series of actions, and let -- whatever -- study how my particular brain operates. Thus, eventually the disembodied voice would actually be able to communicate."
"Communicate with you via telepathy?" I asked. "What is this -- some sort of science fiction story?"
- "The Amnesiac" - Forth Entry
- Friday Fun
- "The Amnesiac" - Third Entry
- "The Amnesiac" - Second Entry
- "A Bottle of Elixir"
- "The Amnesiac" - First Entry
- "Smith and Wesson" - Chapter Six: Smith Meets Wesson
- "Smith and Wesson" - Chapter Five: Back to Earth
- "Smith and Wesson" - Chapter Four: The Life of Zephenia Smith
- "Smith and Wesson" - Chapter Three: The Escape Continues
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